UNACCOMPANIED MINOR SERIAL
The Ferryman
Part II
The Ferryman swigged back his coffee. At the far end of the wooden table where he sat, a seagull coveted his battered fish and fries.
David knew this had to be the Ferryman. Once the bus had reached its destination, only five passengers had remained. Each of these five now had a place. Three shuffled about the dock, arms folded or hands in pockets. David shared a table with the young lady who had sat next him on the bus.
Her name was Sharon. She and David had chatted briefly after he had awoken from his restless sleep, his headache gone. Sharon was on her way to work in a B&B for the summer. It was her cousin’s cousin’s place or something like that. David had said he thought he knew the place.
Near the fish’n’chips shack stood the fish’n’chips vendor and the bus driver, sharing a cigarette. A stove pipe pierced the structure’s roof, the air above it shimmering. A white cloud spewed from the mouth of the stove pipe and snaked downward. No one else was present.
