Everyone dead, variously staring, except me. I caught them all. Mainly whilst being incredulous that the blood hitting the ceiling was theirs and arterial.
I am tired because I've had to haul dead crew over the rail. Twelve of them. Each one in some different explanation of what it is to die violently.
But the problem is I don't know how to drive this boat as it heaves to the dock (quay? some fucking thing that gets destroyed, big splinters the width of your leg exploding up, because I don't know how to stop its progress). And it is basically halted by the granite side of the promenade that loops down from the hill of the little port we, all dead except me, enter.
I have fucked off long gone, dived into the black night-time waves five hundred yards out. I will swim to shore, and hopefully wash this blood and headache out. Salt cold sea will maybe make me feel better. At least clear the sparky fog from my head.
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