Free The Fog of Forgetting by G. A. Morgan

Knox.
    Seaborne placed the rocks on the ground and was on the boys in three strides, his expression dark and scowling.
    â€œI—I,” Knox stammered.
    Seaborne held up a hand, cutting him off.
    â€œThe first thing you must learn in Ayda is who your enemies are. The second—never underestimate them.” Seaborne’s fingers traced the wooden hilt of the machete at his hip as he considered the boys, eyes roaming between them. Teddy whimpered. Knox stuffed the collar of his T-shirt into his mouth. Chase held his breath. After several exruciating seconds, Seaborne sighed and dropped his hand.
    â€œI am not the enemy, lads.”
    Chase exhaled.
    â€œThorry, Mr. Theaborne,” said Teddy, still wrapped in life preservers.
    The edges of Seaborne’s mouth twitched up.
    â€œAnd that is lucky for you with such an ill-considered attempt. Rocks are unreliable weapons. Should you ever need to use them again, wield them with your hands—like a club.” He demonstrated by chopping his hand at Chase’s temple, playfully. Chase winced, then took a surprisingly deep breath. His brain had shut down but for three words: Get. Help. Now.
    â€œUmm, Mr. Seaborne, uh, we’d just as soon get going. So would you mind, I mean—please—could we use a phone?”
    Seaborne paced back toward the boat and climbed over the transom.
    â€œIf I knew what a phone was, I would be more than happy to get you one.”
    Knox spit out his collar.
    â€œA TELE-phone. The thing you use to call people? To talk from a distance?” He pantomimed holding an imaginary reciever up to his ear and pushing some imaginary buttons.
    Seaborne shrugged, not even curious.
    â€œI’m hungry!” said Teddy
    â€œAre you, small one?” asked Seaborne. “Well, I may not have a telephone, but I do have food and drink. I’ll be finished in just a moment.” Then he began asking questions.
    Chase and Knox answered as best they could, with some help from Teddy, but their story felt loose in their heads, like rocks rattling in a tin can. When they got around to describing Evelyn and Frankie’s departure from the beach, Seaborne grew agitated.
    â€œThey left how long ago?” he demanded.
    â€œI don’t know,” Chase replied. “Maybe an hour?”
    Seaborne shook his head in dismay. “It’s not safe for any of you to wander—”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt is too dangerous.”
    â€œWhy? What’s out there?” Chase asked again, eyes once again on the machete.
    Seaborne didn’t answer.
    â€œSo, uh, Seaborne, where is Ayda exactly?” asked Knox, trying a different tack.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œOh-kay.” Knox exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes at Chase, “let me get this straight. You don’t know where you live?”
    Seaborne gave him a sharp look.
    â€œI have told you where I live. What I cannot tell you is where, exactly , the island of Ayda is. I came here a long time ago—when I was a boy not much older than that one there.” He nodded to Teddy. “There may be a map somewhere that can tell you where Ayda lies in relation to everything that is known to you, but I have never seen it. Nor do I now remember clearly anything else that was once known to me.” He ran his finger along the gunwale of the boat and chucked his chin toward the sea. “It is the fog. It makes you forget.”
    Knox mouthed the word cuckoo to Chase.
    Chase rubbed his eyes again, getting impatient.
    â€œSo, you came here when you were a kid?”
    â€œYes; not here, precisely, but to Ayda. I came ashore east of here, in the neighboring land of Metria.”
    â€œAnd you stayed? By yourself? What about your family? Your friends?”
    A shadow crossed over Seaborne’s face, and he frowned. “I have told you, I do not remember much of anyone who once mattered to me,” he said.
    â€œI don’t want to