Awake

Chapter Five - Boneless

The cold had settled deep inside of all of them, a persistent ache in the very marrow of your bones that would never leave. They had forgotten what it felt like to be warm. They had forgotten what streets looked like when they weren't deep beneath the snow, and what colour a clear sky was, and how the stars looked at night.

  The winter had never struck so hard, and worst of all that it should strike this year of all years, with the towns along the shore crowded out with runaways and refugees, seeking shelter from the madness further inland. They lived in people's attics, in the inns, in backrooms and warehouses and on boats moored in the harbour.

  Sandy Marks stood by the rail of the ship, looking across towards the town. The rail in front of him was encrusted with ice and his hands clumsy inside his mittens. He wore all his clothes at once, layered on top of one another, with a final great coat over the whole lot, the hood drawn up over his head. It would never win awards for style, but at least he wouldn't freeze to death.

   On the harbour front, a few people trudged along the road. Every day, men came to clear it with shovels, heaping the snow into drifts so that a channel could be cut through. By this mercy, people were still able to travel, to find food, to work. But only for the time being. The drifts were growing higher.

  Sandy shuddered as he thought of what might happen if the supply routes were cut off. The town was thick with people, crammed in. Sandy had been one of hundreds when he ran for the sea, praying for safety. He had found himself a tiny cabin aboard one of the permanent boats, the ones they called scud ships.

  Scud was a dirty term for a foreigner, an in-lander. It wasn't used so much in the town anymore. They were all foreigners.

"You alright, Mr Sandy?" a voice spoke up behind him.

Sandy turned slowly and carefully to face the round-faced young man who took care of him, and many others.

"Yes," Sandy said, a little thickly. "Yes, I'm alright."

The man, whose name was Arnold, nodded amiably. "Want to go into town, Mr Sandy?"

"Yes, please," Sandy decided. "To the inn."

Arnold nodded his understanding and held his arms open invitingly. Sandy stepped cautiously into them and gently, as if he were made of fine porcelain, he was lifted off his feet and cradled to Arnold's chest.

  Arnold was not very clever, but he was kind and he was strong which was why he worked as he did. Sandy's scud ship wasn't like the others. They needed people like Arnold to look after them, to carry them through the town to wherever they needed to go. They called it the boneless disease.

   Nobody knew how you contracted it, only that it wasn't contagious. First you became tired all the time and the strength disappeared from your muscles. You suffered headaches and deep depression. Then your bones started to weaken, your joints to crumble. You stopped being able to walk, to stand, to move. Eventually, you died.