Member-only story
The Island, Epilogue
The end is not the end......
At the break of dawn, Kell and I woke up feeling somewhat frazzled, to say the least.
“You ok Steve?” He said rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah, and you?” I replied through a long yawn
“I’m good, mister. C’mon, let’s go see the damage at the museum before we head back to the inn. See if we can get back before panting Pinter gets wind we’re missing in action.”
And with that, we were up and off in the direction of the museum.
As we approached the museum there was an eerie silence about the place. Normally you could expect to hear birdsong. Not one tweet could be heard.
We went through the gardens and eventually turned a corner into the central patio where all the figureheads were on display. We fully expected to see total and utter devastation. Nothing of the sort.
Everything was exactly as it should have been as if nothing had ever happened. There was a faint smell of napalm and nothing of bitter almonds.
Kell and I just stared at it all in disbelief. What the hell, was it all just a bad dream?
Suddenly I noticed a couple of things. The figure I had down for a beautiful middle-aged Charlotte had a somehow more relaxed expression on her face…
