Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  “I heard she escaped from a slave ship, taking her to the New World.”

  “But not how she escaped?”

  “No.”

  “She’s beautiful, don’t you think? The crew of the slave ship thought so. They freed her from her chains, cleaned off the below decks filth, and used her.” The fury in his voice made it clear what those uses were. “And when they were not using her like that, they had her work for them, cleaning and cooking.”

  “They trusted her about the ship. Weren’t there weapons she might have got her hands on?”

  “She was a child. They weren’t frightened of her.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Eleven, maybe twelve. She’s not sure. The ship stopped to pick up water. Kali took her chance and dived overboard. She swam ashore and hid.”

  “What happened to the slavers?”

  “They were lucky. They sailed away before Atlantis jumped again.” Ricardo’s hands formed fists. “Never before had I known what it is to want to kill someone. If I could hunt them down through the centuries, I would not rest until every last one lay dead. But Kali…” He sighed. “She makes me happy. I worry for our child. Atlantis is no place to raise children. But I cannot put it in my heart to regret what we share.”

  The trees ended. They stood at the edge of an expanse of low growing plants, surrounded by a solid fence. It was clearly a field of vegetables. However, the plants did not lie in neat rows. Off to her right was another area, filled with ripe maize.

  “Do we tend this?”

  “Minimally,” Ricardo said. “We make sure the fence is strong enough to keep the goats out, and we remove the worst of the weeds, but we don’t bother plowing. Everything is left to self-seed. The farmland used to cover most of the outer island. The forest has taken nearly all of it. Yet there’s still enough to feed everyone in the Squat twenty times over. We do all right.”

  On the other side of the fields, Sam could see the remains of silos and other buildings. Even as crumbling ruins they stood as high as the surrounding trees. Discarded farm machinery rusted in the open, where it had been left. Sam walked over to inspect the nearest example.

  “These are plowshares.” Sam had never worked on a farm, but had no trouble identifying the curved blades.

  “Yes.”

  “But there’s twelve of them bolted together. It’s huge. What sort of horses could pull it?”

  “They probably had a tractor.”

  “A what?”

  Ricardo smiled. “When we get back to the Barn, I’ll see what I can find to help me explain. For now, we need to work. But first there is something I must tell you newbies.” He looked over his shoulder to check that Alonzo was in hearing distance. “If you look there, there, there, and there. Do you see the roosts?”

  “Yes.”

  “The hunters know we come to the farm, so they show up sometimes unexpected. All the while you’re working, keep your ears open. First click, drop everything and warn the rest. You’ve got a whistle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Three quick blasts and run for the nearest roost. Likewise if you hear someone signal, or if the island jumps. Don’t hang around and take chances. This is where we lose the most people.” He drew a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s make a start.”

  * * *

  Sam swung her machete. The sapling snapped after three blows. She stood, wiped the sweat from her eyes, and yawned. Her mouth felt like she had been chewing sand. Fortunately, water was not rationed. Piracola’s pack was in the Inflatable, but everyone else had theirs. Furthermore, the farm had a clean pond. Sam opened her flask and took a long drink.

  Ricardo was right. Her body refused to believe it was afternoon. Her head was strangely light, and the ground bobbed under her feet, as if she was aboard a ship. She would have to ask why he called it jet lag.

  Sweat trickled down her back and soaked into her waistband. Her skin felt dusty and sticky. Two weeks ago, she had never heard of a hot shower. Now, it was a hardship to be without one. However, the work was nearly done. Their harvest was in the sacks ready to be carried back.

  Sam put the cap on her water bottle and fought back another yawn. A few cuts with the machete turned the sapling into a stake. Sam used it to reinforce a section of fence then continued pulling up the more obvious weeds.

  A high-pitched whistle shrilled across the farm. Sam froze, spade in hand. At the other side of the field she could see Piracola working. The whistle came again, but this time she recognized it—just a bird. One more false alarm. Her pulse slowed. Sam shook her head and moved on.

  Another bird joined in. Then a flock of gulls took to the air, complaining in a riot of harsh, screeching. Sam raised her head, looking to where they had been perched. The treetops were swaying in a fresh wind, sending down showers of leaves. Then Sam felt the ground shake. Why would Atlantis not stay put?

  The light was changing. The sun was gone. Sam stuck her spade in the ground. She had managed to get herself as far from the scattered roosts as it was possible to get. Which was closest? Sam stumbled forward, trying to make haste over the heaving ground. She fell twice in the gloom, sprawling face-first in the dirt. The ladder over the fence was like climbing rigging in a gale. She bruised her knuckles, misjudging a handhold.

  By the time she reached the knotted rope, the worst was over. The wind dropped and the ground steadied. Sam paused for a second to catch her breath, listening. No clicking. No rustling in the undergrowth. She had made it.

  Sam hauled herself to the top, to find that she was not alone in selecting this roost. Of all people, why did it have to be Alonzo? Judging by his expression, he was even less happy to see her. “Why are you here?”

  Sam sighed. “You know that’s a silly question, don’t you?”

  Did she have any options? Sam glanced back down, but changing to another roost would be an act of insanity. The sun had moved and was now low on the horizon. Soon it would be dark. They did not have to talk. They could sleep until it was safe to leave.

  “You wanted to follow me?”

  “Why would I do that?” When Alonzo did not answer, Sam shifted to the far side of the platform and lay down with her back to him. “I’m going to sleep.”

  Yet, despite her tiredness, Sam’s mind would not settle. Her heart was pounding, her chin and knuckles stung where she had grazed them, and she could not stop listening for hunters. The minutes drew out.

  “You want to throw taunts at me. This is all your plan.” And now, of all times, Alonzo wanted to have a conversation.

  Sam rolled over. He was in the same spot with his arms wrapped around his raised knees. The last of the sun’s rays lit the side of his face.

  “Yes. Of course. Mind you, it was a bugger arranging the time jump so Piracola lost his grip on the boat.”

  “You think to laugh at me.”

  “What on earth gives you that idea?” Sam gave full rein to her irritation.

  “I do not have to listen to you acting as the fool.”

  “You started it.”

  “No. It starts with you, dressing as a man to defy God. The Bible tells us how it should be for men and women. You chose to fight the will of God. Only evil can come from your sins. Can you say it is not so? Can you say your heart does not burn with lust for other women?”

  Sam took a sharp breath. Unbidden, the image of Catalina’s face hung before her. “No. I won’t deny it. I do desire women as lovers.”

  The words were heavy on her tongue, but in giving them voice, a weight went from inside, just as when she had admitted her true sex to Charles. Saying the words was a release. Sam laced her fingers behind her head as a cushion and stared through the leaves at the darkening sky. Why had she ever felt confused when it was so obvious?

  “You smile. I see you. I repent my sins, but your kind always cover yourselves in evil. Ever you seek to spread your foulness.”

  “My kind? Spreading foulness? You’re just the same. I’ll bet I’m the only woman y
ou’ve ever offered to get your dick out for.”

  “You are without shame. A whore.”

  “No, I’m not, remember? I said no to you. If I was a whore, I’d have said yes, and charged you.” Despite being angry, Sam was enjoying herself. “You were the one begging for it.”

  “You played the trick on me.”

  “Trick you? Into what? Acting in a less sinful way? Except I don’t see any sin in you humping other men, as long as you leave them alone if they say no. And I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Have you talked to the others here?”

  Alonzo choked audibly. “You…you have told them how—”

  “No. You saved my life. If you want me to keep it a secret, then I will. You have my word on it.”

  “What does the word of a woman such as you count for?”

  “Do you know, I thought you’d say something like that. But you should talk to them. Ask Charles or Liz what they think about men and women having lovers of the same sex.”

  “They would be sickened.” His voice crackled with misplaced certainty.

  “No, they wouldn’t. And do you know how I know?” Sam swiveled around and sat facing him.

  “How?”

  “Because I’ve talked about it. Floyd’s the same as you. He’s a lover of men. The people here know it, and they don’t care. If you’d spent less time playing mother hen to Catalina and bothered talking to people you’d have heard it too. He had a lover called David. They were together for ages, until David was killed two years ago. Floyd puts on a brave face, but everyone knows he’s still mourning David. They feel sorry for him, but that’s it. Just like they’d feel sorry for Kali if something happened to Ricardo.”

  “Why do you say this?”

  “Because it’s true? Because you ought to hear it? Why do you think I’d say it?”

  “You think to tempt me.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Why would I tempt you? To do what?”

  “You are a devil, sent to test me. Now I see it all.” Alonzo’s voice grew in strength and conviction. “This island is a test. It is the work of the devil. He knows my weakness and he wants to trap my soul in lies. Your words are the lies. But at last I see the truth.”

  Alonzo got to his knees and crawled across the roost. Sam first thought he was coming to attack her, to push her off the edge. Instead he grabbed the rope and swung his legs over the side.

  Sam scrambled to stop him. “No. Don’t be an idiot.”

  She tried to grab his arm and haul him back to safety. Alonzo wrenched himself free and swung back at her. Whether or not it was intended, his fist connected with Sam’s face, stunning her. By the time she recovered, he was no longer on the roost. The rope creaked.

  Sam scuttled to the edge. Alonzo was already a third of the way down.

  “Where are you going?”

  “What does it matter? Anywhere that you are not. I wish to pray in peace and beg forgiveness for my sins.”

  “You mustn’t. It’s dangerous.”

  “The only danger comes from you. This is all the trap of the devil. I need fear nothing. I should have known from the beginning this was a trick. Jump across time. Monsters. Flying machines. Atlantis. The name is a myth for children. I was a fool to listen.” He was getting close to the ground.

  “No, Alonzo. Come back.”

  He looked up. The last glow of sunset lit his face. Was it certainty or insanity she saw there? Faintly, Sam heard the distant sound. “Tck-tck. Tck-tck-tck. Tck-tck.”

  “Alonzo. Listen. The hunters. They’re coming.”

  He laughed and dropped the final few feet. “Your made-up devils do not give me fear. The Lord is my guardian and my shield. I see through your lies.” He strode into the jungle.

  Sam swung her legs over the edge, about to follow. The clicks were closer, louder. “Tck. Tck-tck-tck. Tck-tck.”

  Sam stopped. What could she do, other than die with him? She closed her eyes and rolled back onto the roost. Even if she caught up with Alonzo, she could not force him to return. She could not carry him up the rope.

  The clicking passed beneath the tree and moved on, heading in the direction Alonzo had taken. Sam buried her head in her hands, until a wet tickle on her upper lip caught her notice. She wiped away blood—a nosebleed, and she would most likely have a black eye as well.

  The first scream ripped through the forest.

  A second scream came, fading to a gurgling, choking groan, and then there was silence, except for the sigh of the breeze in the branches and the thudding of Sam’s heart.

  * * *

  To her surprise, Sam fell asleep sometime after midnight. She woke with a crick in her neck and a chill seeping into her bones. However, the sun was peeking over the treetops. Soon, warmth would return to the world. All around were the sights, sounds, and scents of dawn in a tropical forest. Sam pressed her hands over her eyes. If only she could blot out the memory of the previous night.

  Something was moving around below. Sam rolled to the edge of the platform. She could see ferns shaking, but there were no clicks, no sounds of danger. Listening more carefully, she made out a noise like snuffling breath—a piglet? Then came men’s voices. The piglet fled.

  Ricardo strode into view. “Sam. Alonzo. Are you there?”

  “I am.” Sam dropped down the rope to join him and Piracola.

  “Where’s Alonzo? Didn’t he make it up?”

  What could she say? “He did, but then he…he had a fit of madness. He decided the entire island was an illusion, created by the devil to tempt him. He climbed down and walked away.”

  “Couldn’t you stop him?”

  “How? He wouldn’t listen to me.” Or maybe she had said too much, and he had listened to all the wrong bits.

  Both men were staring at her. Sam was aware of soreness where Alonzo had struck. She raised her hand and gently examined her face. Flakes of dried blood were rough under her fingers. Her nose was painful but not broken, as far as she could tell.

  “This was what I got when I tried to stop him from leaving.”

  “You fought?”

  “Not exactly. We argued, but I don’t think he meant to punch me. I was trying to pull him back onto the roost and he shoved me away.”

  Now Ricardo was peering at her hands. Sam held out her knuckles. “This isn’t anything to do with it. I ran into the fence when Atlantis jumped, before I’d even reached the roost.”

  Did he believe her? Ricardo said nothing, but his eyes held doubt.

  Sam turned and stared into the jungle. “We should look for him.”

  “There’s no point. You will not find enough to be worth burying,” Piracola said.

  “I have to see.”

  Sam started in the direction Alonzo had taken. After a few seconds, she heard Ricardo and Piracola follow. They walked in silence. How far had Alonzo gone? Sam tried to remember how long before he screamed. No. That was something she wanted to forget.

  Piracola tapped her arm. “Over there. See how the bush is bent back?”

  Sam did not but was happy to accept his word for it. Thereafter Piracola took the lead.

  When they found more traces of Alonzo, Sam did not need Piracola to point it out. Blood was splattered across the tree trunks, shoulder high and more. Ferns were crushed flat, and stained red. Then Sam saw half a finger, lying on the ground. She took another step and stopped.

  Shards of bone littered the blood-soaked soil. Skin and guts draped from surrounding plants like neckerchiefs hung out to dry. Sam saw an eye, peeking from under a bush, then realized only a third of a head was left behind. Her stomach heaved.

  “It is not a good way to die,” Piracola said.

  “What are the hunters?”

  “I have seen them clearly, three times. They are…” He shrugged. “They are not something you can fight.”

  Ricardo put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Come. There’s nothing we can do. We should collect the food from the farm and go. It would take a day to gather his rema
ins, and all the time we are here, we risk joining him. There is no graveyard in Atlantis.”

  No graveyard, but no shortage of corpses.

  * * *

  Sam shaded her eyes, looking across the inner sea. “Do you think they’ll have missed us yet?”

  “Probably not. Hopefully, they’ll start to wonder in a few hours more.” Ricardo stood at her side.

  “Could we signal them?”

  “How?”

  “Smoke.” Piracola sounded like someone who has just woken up. “We can make a fire.”

  “Do we have a tinder box with us?” Sam asked.

  “Better than that.” Ricardo slipped the pack off his back and pulled out a small tube. When he pushed a button on the side, a two-inch flame shot from the end.

  They made a simple hearth on the sand using a ring of stone and collected dry tinder. Once a small fire was blazing, Piracola half smothered it with wet leaves. He dipped an empty sack in the sea, taking care not to get his fingers close to the water, then wrung it out. With Sam’s help, he used the damp sack to cut the column of black smoke into a series of balls.

  Ricardo divided his attention between them and the inner island. “Now we just have to hope someone is watching.”

  Piracola grinned at him. “You are joking, right? Kali will not have left the quay while you’ve been gone.”

  Sam felt a tightening in her gut. Who, or what, else might be watching? “How long do you think it’ll take them to get here?”

  “Won’t be quick. Even if Piracola is right and Kali has seen the signal, they’ll have to get a canoe from the Barn and paddle over.” Ricardo pursed his lips. “If we’re lucky, an hour.”

  And if luck was not with them? Sam turned to the forest and closed her eyes, concentrating on every faint sound. Minutes dragged out. Would the hunters see their signal? She should have thought quicker. She should have said something earlier. Now all she could do was hope. Then her ears picked up something else. At first, it was faint, like a mosquito, but the volume grew by the second. The Inflatable was coming, full throttle.