chapter thirty‑two

They stood on the side of a hill. In front of them was a carpet of fog. It was so dense that Andrew felt he could actually step onto it or, at the very least, swim through it.

"Follow me and don't look into the water," commanded Brian. "Haven't you got any shoes?" he added having noticed Andrew's stockinged feet.

"I've got one in my pocket," said Andrew as they descended the hill into the drenched air of the marsh.

"In case of emergencies eh?"

Andrew couldn't decide if Brian was making a rare attempt at sarcasm, or simply humouring him.

The ground had changed from the light springy grass of the hillside to a thick water‑logged layer of dark green moss. Each step squeezed a black fetid soup from the sponge‑like moss, which quickly soaked Andrew's socks and oozed between his toes.

Andrew followed Brian along the path which threaded its way between dark stagnant pools; he couldn't see more than a couple of yards in any direction.

"You know, Brian," said Andrew grimacing with each footstep, "you don't have to keep up the pretence. Henry doesn't bother any more and I certainly won't tell anyone. It's crazy for you to keep acting as if you don't know me."

Brian paused and turned to look at Andrew, his motion causing the mist to swirl around him like a gossamer veil.

"Perhaps," said Brian after observing Andrew for a moment, "it is you who pretend not to know me," he turned enigmatically and walked off, a curtain of fog closing in behind him.

"What?" said Andrew scurrying after the disappearing figure. "Look, that's all very profound, but I don't know what the shit you're talking about. In fact, most of the time, I don't know what the shit anyone is talking about."

The dark shape ahead made no comment.

"I mean," persisted Andrew, "this place, the Marsh of Disillusionment - or what ever it's called - it's straight out of a children's fantasy novel - The Lord of the Mirrors or Alice goes to Disneyland - it's preposterous, it's stupid, it's not at all credible. You know it, I know it. So why are we pretending, eh? Brian? Brian! How can you take it seriously? Are you listening to ... Ahhrrrggg."

Andrew was lying, face‑down, on the ground. Something had caught his ankle and toppled him head‑first into the stinking moss. He could feel the cold, tainted water soaking into his clothes, and freezing his skin. He tried to shake his foot loose. After some resistance, there was a sharp crack and it came free. He started to rise to his feet but was pulled back down by something which grabbed his leg. In panic he twisted his head to look back down his body. An arm was protruding from the pool to his left, its white bony hand was clamped firmly to his thigh. As he watched, in horror, other arms appeared from the water and clutched frantically at his body. He tried to stand but the combined strength of the arms was too much for him.

"Brian," he screamed. "Quickly, help me!"

He began beating at the bleached limbs with his clenched fist and jerking his leg violently. Some of the limbs broke at the wrist or the elbow with a sickening snap, but as fast as he broke them they were replaced by others.

He heard the squelch of running feet and peered ahead into the mist; suddenly, Brian's charging shape materialized out of the fog. Too late Brian saw Andrew's prone figure; he tried to stop but slipped on the wet surface and fell head‑long on top of Andrew. The hands divided their attention between the two men, but they were unable to grip Brian's smooth armour and he succeeded in scrambling back to his feet.

With one broad swing of his sword, Brian severed the remaining arms which pinned Andrew to the ground. Andrew staggered to his feet and the surviving limbs sank, reluctantly, back into the impenetrable blackness of the pool.

Andrew looked, in terror, at the hands which still clung tenaciously to his body, their skin was torn and long tendons trailed from the bloodless flesh. He ripped them off and, shuddering with revulsion, threw them into the pool.

Andrew stood leaning on Brian's shoulder, panting heavily and trying to shake off the feeling of nausea.

"We'd better keep moving," said Brian gently, "and, this time, try to look where you're stepping."

"But you told me not to look in the water."

"Oh, did I?" said Brian innocently as he turned and walked on down the path. "Sorry, my mistake."

"Well should I look, or not?" said Andrew peevishly as he hurried after Brian.

"That depends," said Brian thoughtfully, "on the situation."

"Great," muttered Andrew, "very bloody helpful."

They plodded on through the marsh, Andrew removed his socks which had become baggy, and flopped irritatingly around his feet as he walked.

"We have now," said Brian pausing in his long stride so that Andrew could catch up, "reached a situation where you should not look down."

"Why, what's going to happen," said Andrew nervously.

"If I told you, it would be as bad as if you had looked."

"Yeah, but if you don't tell me I won't be able to stop myself looking."

"I strongly suggest that you try," said Brian as he walked away.

Andrew kept his eyes fixed firmly on Brian's back, a few paces further on the texture of the ground under Andrew's bare feet changed. His feet were moving through an inch of water, under the water the surface was cold and clammy, like a dead fish, and it bobbed unsteadily as if it were floating. Unable to stand it any longer he risked a quick glance downwards. He snapped his head sharply up again, unwilling to believe what he had seen. His pace quickened, he pushed past Brian and began running, sprinting. Finally, his panic took over completely and he dashed madly ahead.

As he ran, his feet pummelled the white bloated corpses which formed the causeway. The human bodies floated side by side just below the surface of the water, their swollen hairless heads nodding in Andrew's wake, their wide staring eyes watching him insanely as he passed.

Brian found him, curled in a ball, a hundred yards passed the end of the cadaver causeway, he was shivering and making pitiful sobbing noises.

"At least you've added a bit of colour to the place," said Brian referring to a pile of what looked like coleslaw which lay on the path.

"Come on," he said quite tenderly as he patted Andrew reassuringly on the shoulder. "It's not real, you know, and the worst is over with now."

Andrew got slowly to his feet. "God, that's the most disgustingly, revolting thing I've ever seen."

"Really?" said Brian in surprise, "I've seen much worse than that, I remember one time-"

"Please," interrupted Andrew, "spare me."

Following a half hour of squelching along behind Brian, Andrew had recovered his composure. After all, he told himself, he'd once seen something very similar in a horror movie. The more he thought about it, the more his recent experience came to match what he had previously witnessed at the cinema, except that in this case he wasn't sitting in the back‑row with a box of Maltezers and a girl clutching his arm.

A dark shape loomed ominously out of the mist and turned, innocently, into a large notice board.

warning: logic gate ahead

Ahead of you are two paths; one leads to the destination you seek, the other leads to your death.

Each path is guarded by a sentinel; one sentinel always lies, the other always tells the truth.

You are allowed one question of either guard to determine the safe path.

"Hah, not very original," said Andrew striding confidently ahead.

The path, as predicted, split into a V shape with dark pools on all sides, standing at the joint of the two forks was a small man dressed in a business suit. Andrew approached him.

"Hey, I thought there were supposed to be two of you?" said Andrew.

"Yeah, well the other guy couldn't make it today, he's off sick. It doesn't matter though, because we're identical twins."

"Oh," said Andrew mildly confused.

"What's your question then?" said the man smiling expectantly.

"All right, um, let me get it straight, yes that's it. If I were to ask the other guy which was the good path, what would he say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He's got laryngitis," said the man giggling.

"Hold on, that's not fair!" said an outraged Andrew.

"You've had your question, now make your choice."

"Come on," said Brian taking the path to the left.

"Hey wait," shouted Andrew. "How do you know that's the right way?"

"I've got a map," said Brian over his shoulder.

Andrew turned to snarl at the man, who was still laughing, and then jogged after Brian.

A little further down the path the mist began to clear, sunlight filtered down through the thick shroud of condensed water and lit the area with an eerie yellow glow. As if encouraged by a vague promise of summer, lily‑like plants flourished in the ponds, even going as far as producing large exotic flowers. The heady scent of the blooms, trapped by the ceiling of fog, pervaded the air.

"Are we nearly there yet?" asked Andrew plaintively.

"Hard to tell."

"Well, look at the map."

"I've lost it."

"But you just looked at it."

"Yeah, but I've forgotten where I put it."

"Think back, when did you last look at it?"

"I'm not sure, you were there, don't you know?"

"Well, of course, we were ...," Andrew stopped walking and stood thoughtfully scratching his head, "I'm not sure weren't we ... no."

Brian stopped to wait for Andrew. "Why did you want the map?"

"Me? I didn't want the map."

"Now look, what‑ever‑your‑name‑is," said Brian angrily, "I didn't want the map, I know exactly where we're going."

"Oh yeah," said Andrew belligerently, "so where are we going?"

"You know as well as I do, you were the one who wanted to go there."

"Was I? Look," said Andrew in an embarrassed tone, "this may sound silly, but I've forgotten where we're going."

"I was afraid you'd say that, so have I. In fact, and please don't take this personally, even your name seems to have slipped my mind."

"Wait a minute, it's on the tip of my tongue ... no, no it's gone now. This is ridiculous, let's get out of here before we forget which way we were going."

"Oh good, you haven't then?" said Brian hopefully.

"Ah ... oh look, our footprints. It must be this way."

A mile further down the mossy track the mist began to thicken again, as they walked, the lilies became more and more stunted, until finally the pools reverted to their former lifeless appearance.

"Hey," said Andrew excitedly, "I've just remembered something!"

"Really, what?"

"About two minutes ago I thought how hungry I was."

"That's it?" said Brian, disappointed.

"Well it's a start, at least I've stopped forgetting things."

"But you haven't started remembering what you forgot?"

"No, but it occurs to me that if we knew we would be coming here, wherever here is, then we might have done something to help us get our memories back."

"Good idea, I wonder why we didn't think of it before."

"We probably did, but we forgot again," Andrew began searching his pockets. "Aha, I've got something," he carefully drew a very soggy piece of paper from his trouser' pocket and unfolded the flimsy sheet.

"What does it say?" said Brian impatiently.

"It's hard to read, all the ink has run, but it says something about a flood."

"That must be how you got so wet."

"Could be," said Andrew distractedly as he peered at the sheet, "there are two words hand‑written on the back ... no, I can't make them out. What about you, got anything interesting."

"I haven't got any pockets."

"What about in there," said Andrew pointing at the leather pouch hanging from Brian's waist.

Brian looked down. "Hey, I've got a sword too," he said happily, "that may come in handy."

"Let's hope not, what's in the pouch?"

"Umm, there's a map, a toothbrush, a tin of metal polish, a tube of toothpaste, a handkerchief, a pen and a dry piece of paper."

"Great, what does it say?"

"If you are reading this note you have lost your memory. You have just passed by the mind‑cleansing lilies of the Marsh of Dissimulation. You must go immediately to the Adult Education Centre and get your memory restored. P.S. The guy with you is suffering from some kind of psychological disorder and should not be trusted."

"Well what does that mean?"

"I don't know," said Brian eyeing Andrew suspiciously. "Just remember who's got the sword."

"That's about all I can remember."

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