One January Morning, Part 18
“It happens all the time,” is what he said when she said yes. “Morgans are just this way by nature,” he said. And she tried to believe him as she followed him up the rusted ladder to the surface, its rungs so cold they burned her hands. But she could not let it go. Which way by nature? Murderous? Paranoid? As he helped her up into the abandoned alley, she thought to ask for clarification. But what she saw when she reached the surface—that sight held her tongue, bound it.
There, past the vacant arcades the squeezed them in on either side, there was the beach. And beyond it, beyond it was the vast, beautiful, unknowable sea. Out there, in the distance, her ship bobbed gently on the waves.
“This is what we do,” he said, setting a warm hand on her shoulder. “Standard procedure,” he said. “We bring you back to where it all began, to where it all went wrong.”
To be continued…