The Weight of a Thousand Oceans

by Jillian Webster

  “One night, I sat out after everyone had gone to sleep. I wanted to see the moon. I needed to think; I needed to feel safe. One of the elders came out. I remember being surprised by how close he sat next to me. I inched away but he immediately moved closer. He had made me uncomfortable from the beginning, but I kept that to myself.” She lifts her feet out of the water and then back in again, grappling with an overwhelming sense of anxiety rising from within, like a latent poison now seeping from her bones.

  “His face was so close to mine. I could feel the hairs of his beard touching my cheek. There was a strong stench of alcohol on his breath. He reached up and started stroking my hair, telling me how beautiful I was.” Chills prickle down her spine. “My heart … I’ve never felt my heart pound so hard—I thought it would stop. When he put his hand on my leg, that’s when I prayed it would stop.

  “I was young and naïve, but I knew I was in serious trouble. And my voice … my voice was stuck. Like a jagged stone had caught in my throat. My breathing was so loud, coming out in short spurts. It felt like he was suffocating me and he had only just put his hand on my leg. He had this smile on his face—I’ll never forget it. His features were highlighted by the light of the moon. He sat back and watched how terrified I was—with amusement.”

  Lucas shakes his head. “God, Maia, where was your grandfather?”

  She can hear Lucas speak, but it doesn’t register. It’s suddenly as if she’s no longer here. No longer stuck on this raft in the middle of the ocean but is thirteen again, stranded between the light of the moon and the shadow of a monster crawling out from the darkness.

  “I … I didn’t do anything at first. I was frozen. I remember feeling so betrayed. Not only did I feel stupid for putting myself in that situation, but I was so angry that my grandfather wasn’t there, this man who had spent his entire life protecting me from what seemed more like ghosts of the past than actual humans. He wasn’t there! He was sleeping. And there I was, with an actual ghost.

  “The more the man whispered to me, the more frozen I became. Like if I didn’t move, maybe it wouldn’t happen. Or it wouldn’t hurt. Or maybe I could disappear. And then he moved real close to my ear. The magnitude of his breath was like a megaphone. His lips touched my skin and my heart nearly stopped. He whispered, ‘If you say anything or fight back, I will kill your grandfather.’

  “He started touching me. His hand moved up my leg.” Maia looks up at the sky, the contour of the moon now blurred through her tears. “I remember thinking that it would be the end for me. That I’d end up another young girl in a commune of old men. And I’d just have to accept it. That was just the way things were now.

  “He pushed me onto my back. As he was turning to lie on top of me, there was a loud thump and he went limp and fell to his side. I looked up to find another young woman, just a little older than myself. She looked as scared as I felt. She was clutching a wooden board in her hands. We stared at each other in shock. I was about to say something, anything, but she stopped me.

  “She said to me, ‘Leave, and don’t come back.’ Not in a malicious way, but in a kind way. The old man started to grumble and lift his head. She dropped her board and we ran in opposite directions. I snuck back to my sleeping grandfather and crawled back into bed beside him. The next day the elder was ‘sick’ in bed with a ‘headache,’ and I begged to go home. I never told my grandfather what happened.”

  Lucas looks down. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’ll never forget the look in her eyes—that woman who saved me. It was like the life had been sucked out of her. Her eyes were so sad … hollow. And I knew I could never go back. Whatever happened to her must never happen to me.”

  “How could your grandfather not know? How could he not see how obviously abnormal the tribe was?”

  “We see what we want to see. He was so focused on his old age and on not leaving me alone. I think he wanted to see a bunch of men like him, taking care of each other. He wanted that to be the truth more than anything. I think he noticed the oddness of the tribe’s age disparity … but he couldn’t really see.

  “The thing is, my grandfather was adamant in teaching me not to trust strangers, to always stay hidden. He reminded me almost daily that the outside world was such a dreadful place. But for some reason he had this idea, stuck in his head, that we could find security within a trusted community like the Northern Tribe. He was blinded by his desire to keep me safe, and in turn led me into one of the most dangerous places on the island. What is that saying again? That everything you believe to be true, the opposite is also true? That woman had nothing to gain and everything to lose. But in the end, it was a stranger who saved me.”

  Forty-One

  Lightning flickers silently in scattered bursts from a dark corner of the horizon. Maia and Lucas lie side by side on their backs, completely silent. Besides the ominous black clouds in the distance, the early evening is calm, soothing. She tries to focus on this instead of her gnawing, almost mind-numbing thirst. Or that look on Lucas’s face … his brow furrowed, eyes distant, his mind seemingly battling against the weight of the world. She knows that look by now and decides to let him be. Folding her arms beneath her head, she breathes deeply and tries to reign in her focus.

  The expanse above gently cascades from a pale blue into a soft violet as the sinking sun lassos the light from the sky. A delicate breeze sweeps across their raft, carrying the scent of rain.

  Eventually, as darkness falls around them like a faint whisper, the Milky Way punctures the sky with its canopy of stars. A long-tailed comet burns across the glistening expanse and disappears behind the dark wall of ascending clouds.

  Lucas is the first to break their silence. “It’s so strange to think we are looking out into the universe. I wonder what else lies beyond our ancestors’ explorations. I bet there was still so much our dying race didn’t know.”

  “You think the human race is dying?” Maia asks.

  Lucas sighs. “I don’t think so, no. I think this may be a new beginning. After every extinction, a small percentage of the living remained. We are the new humans, Maia. We are the one percent who will evolve from this.”

  There is another flicker of lightning, followed by a low rumble of thunder rolling like a wave across them. It trails off into the distance.

  “When was the last time you saw electricity?” Maia asks.

  “When I was a child—our village still had some.”

  “How big was it?”

  “How big was what?”

  “Your village.”

  “It was one of the bigger ones I’ve seen while traveling the world … maybe thirty people? We were surrounded by emptiness and the elements were harsh, so we had to stick together. It seemed to give us an advantage, especially when some of us still had electricity. But one by one, the homes with ‘renewable’ energy sources had gone dark. It was always the ‘big news’ around the village—whose house had finally caved in to the shadows. I guess things can only last for so long without the resources necessary for upkeep. The last time I saw a working lightbulb was ten years ago. What about you?”

  “We had electricity for special occasions, when it wanted to work, but lightbulbs were limited. My grandfather wanted to make sure our life was sustainable without them so that by the time the last lightbulb went out, we wouldn’t be affected. The last time he tried switching on a light, I was around ten years old—it didn’t work. I barely remember it now,” Maia says quietly. She continues staring up at the stars. “But I still think about it from time to time when looking up at the sky.

  “Back in New Zealand, sometimes on a full moon, I’d sneak away in the middle of the night and head to our closest city, which was always an all-night affair, but I was fascinated by it. I’d walk the dark, littered streets, enamored by the broken streetlights. My grandfather used to tell me the bulbs inside would shine so bright, they’d illuminate the streets like sunlight.

  “I’d wander past the city�
�s gutted shops, full of dust and weeds and half-naked mannequins, and I’d try to imagine what it was like when they were brimming with life. Back when the broken things were once held together and the city lights glowed so bright they could be seen from space. My grandfather used to tell me stories about the cities. They sounded so magical.”

  “You would explore this place on your own?”

  “I was always on my own. There was no one left.”

  The raft is silent, the only sound coming from the occasional choppy wave sloshing between the bins below.

  “Anyway,” Maia continues. “I’d follow the old railway tracks back home, mostly hidden under weeds and bushes. But there’s a particular old station I really loved. It was covered in vines but had this beautiful red brick underneath. It had an old, ornate clock on the front of the building as well, forever stopped at 2:36.

  “The station had cathedral ceilings and this gorgeous tile work on the walls, although half of it was shattered on the floor, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the place in its original state. There was also an old grocery store…” She smiles. “I could just see the frantic people running in to grab some bread before they missed their train. ‘Wait!’” She giggles and flails her arms about. “‘Hold that train!’ And there was this coffee shop…” Her smile fades, suddenly embarrassed by her theatrics.

  “To be honest, I’m probably giving it more credit than it deserves. The entire building was full of broken glass and weeds and rats … it was quite pathetic, actually, but it seemed like it would have been a truly grand place once upon a time. I used to sit and daydream about what it would have been like to be there back then, when the paint was fresh and the coffee hot. I’d imagine I was waiting for a train to whisk me off somewhere new … like I was meeting a lover or heading off to explore the world with everything I owned in a single pack. My favorite daydream was that I was leaving for university. What I wouldn’t give to be able to learn at a university. With the whole world at my feet, endless possibilities…” Her voice trails off.

  Lucas turns towards her and reaches for her hand. He holds it within his but says nothing.

  Maia swipes a tear from her cheek. “How lonely it is to sit along the tracks for a train that will never come.”

  The raft rocks from side to side as Lucas sits up beside her. She watches him between the flickers of light. His head is in his hands.

  “Lucas?”

  He doesn’t speak.

  “Is it the storm? Do you think we should be worried?”

  “I cannot. It is not possible.”

  Maia sits up. “What?”

  Scrunching his hair in fists, he is shaking his head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  She leans forward, searching the darkness for his face. “Lucas?” She touches his shoulder and he flinches. Alarmed, she pulls back. “Lucas? What’s wrong?”

  His shadow turns towards her. “Maia,” he says sternly, then pauses.

  Lightning flashes, briefly illuminating his eyes—serious, pained. Glassy. Maia is taken aback. A splat of rain breaks across her shoulder. Another low growl of thunder reverberates across the sea as their raft travels over a small swell.

  “Maia,” he says again. “I cannot hold back anymore. I can’t. I won’t.”

  “Hold back?”

  He grabs her hand. “Never again, Maia. You will never be lonely again. Ever.”

  Her chin quivers as she searches the dark for his eyes. A gust of wind pulls at their tarp, flapping the tattered plastic in and out. A few more drops of rain splat against Maia’s cheek.

  “Maia.” He grasps her hands and pulls her closer to him. “I’m coming with you—to The Old Arctic Circle.”

  Her breath catches in her chest and she glares at him, unmoving.

  Another flash of light illuminates his eyes, staring intently into hers. “I never want to be in a world where you aren’t in it, Maia. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I am in this now…” He hesitates, then says quietly, “That is, if you will have me.”

  She exhales, overcome with emotion. Speechless. Releasing his hand, she reaches for his face, wanting more than anything to melt into him. “Have you?” she finally whispers, shaking her head. “If I’ll have you?” Her eyes flicker back tears. “You have me, Lucas. You always have.”

  Thunder rolls through the air as the sky continues to flash, the expanse of stars now devoured by the clouds. The smile on Lucas’s face fades. He holds her hand against his cheek and closes his eyes. Lightning zigzags across the sky, immediately followed by a ferocious clap of thunder.

  Lucas leans in and his lips softly touch hers. Grazing at first, gentle. He cups her cheek with his hand, then traces his fingertips down the side of her neck and across her collarbone.

  More flickers of light.

  She runs her hands through his head of curls, then without reservation, wraps them between her fingers. Pulling him into her, she kisses him passionately. Wild. He reaches up and under her shirt, stretching his hands across her back. His breathing now labored, he pulls her body closer to his, closer, kissing her harder, faster—almost ravenous.

  She straddles herself over him and he wraps his arms around her. The wind picks up and swirls around them, their battered tarp beating against the gusts. More raindrops spatter against her skin.

  Maia grabs the sides of Lucas’s face, tugging his lower lip between her teeth. The raft rides over another swell. Lucas peels off her top and whips it under the tarp. She holds his head against her as his lips move across her chest. Clawing at his back, she tears his shirt up over his head. The warmth of his skin is hot against her as they embrace under a sudden deluge of cool rain.

  She craves him, yearns for him, overwhelmed by the strength of his embrace. He kisses the skin down her neck and her head falls back, awakening something deeply primal from within.

  Lightning flashes wildly as the waves continue to propel their raft up and over their crests. Lucas moves with Maia and lays her onto her back. Her dark hair lies in wet ringlets across her face as the wind and rain whip around them. He peels off her ripped pants and she reaches up to grab him. He crawls on top of her and holds her tightly as she wraps her legs around him. She unbuttons his pants and shoves them down, gasping against his kisses. Another avalanche of water smashes down on top of them.

  With his naked body on top of hers, Maia can feel Lucas hard against her and her skin scatters with chills. He grabs her face, looking into her eyes as the sky fills with flashes of light. A magnificent crack of thunder seems to split open the heavens. She grabs the back of his neck, arching her body against the raft as he moves inside her. Her other hand reaches above her head, tightly gripping the nets as Lucas envelopes her beneath him.

  Lightning flashes.

  Thunder crashes.

  The storm rages on.

  Forty-Two

  Maia awakens to rain pelting hard against the tarp. Seawater jumps between the rows of buoys and bins beneath her, licking her skin in cool, brisk bursts. Chilled, she rolls over, reaching across the empty space beside her where Lucas had fallen asleep. Her hand lays hard against a large timber of driftwood crisscrossing their raft.

  She turns to find Lucas sitting topless in the rain, his body silhouetted against the early morning light. His eyes focused, he funnels the water pouring from the tarp into an empty bin. Their crate of bottles, now secured between his legs, is completely full.

  She wearily pulls herself upward, gripping the netting with both hands as the raft rocks from side to side. He stops, smiling tenderly through the onslaught of rain. Without saying a word, he grabs a bottle and hands it to her.

  She desperately unscrews the lid.

  “Please, take your time,” he says above the rain, resting his hand on her foot. “You will make yourself sick.”

  She nods as she gulps down the water, stopping halfway to catch her breath.

  “We have an entire crate full. Try to give yourself a min—”

  But Maia i
s already finishing the bottle. She hands it back to him to refill. He curls the end of the tarp into a funnel and sticks it through the top. Maia watches him, a new wave of concern stabbing from within. The muscles of his arms, something she had memorized during all those weeks on the ship, have deteriorated significantly. His back slightly hunched, undulating waves of ribs now emerge from beneath his goose-pimpled skin.

  Why hadn’t she noticed this before?

  They’ve gotten small dregs of food here and there, but clearly, it’s not enough—and it’s starting to show.

  As he hands her the bottle, she is taken aback as he holds her in his gaze. There is something different about the way he is looking at her. Holding her. His demeanor has been stripped bare, like the final wall between them has fallen and he is now seeing her clearly for the first time.

  Water drips from his curls and slides down his temple into a full beard. He reaches out and holds the side of her face with an overwhelming affection in his eyes. She holds his frigid hand against her skin. Turning into it, she closes her eyes and kisses his palm.

  Oh, dear God, please let us live through this.

  After she finishes the second bottle, Lucas fills it again. Her shrunken stomach is pained from the overload of water. She fights the urge to vomit.

  “Go back to sleep,” he whispers. “It’s okay—I have this.”