Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  After a half hour of frustration, Catalina finally felt bits were starting to make sense. “If I read this right, we came in on level 124, and we’re now on 125. The farther down I go, the harder to understand everything gets. But on the top floors, the most promising sounding rooms are here, Daily rooms for living people, and here, Providing people access to food. Which I read as, Temporary human accommodation, and Kitchen for humans.”

  “I want to see the kitchen.” Torvold spoke first.

  “A kitchen might be more of a torment than anything else, if there’s no food.” Floyd folded his arms. “It’s a long shot, but we might find emergency supplies in a medical center, if there’s one here.”

  “Surely any food would have rotted away long ago,” Sam said.

  “Not if it’s the caretakers’ job to maintain the stocks.”

  “There are clinics.” Catalina scrolled across the map. “But the nearest one is four floors above us, and a quarter way around the tower, Performing art beside the sick bed. There’s this, which is nearer, Keeping the condition of good body, but that sounds more like a gymnasium.”

  “Okay. Let’s try the kitchen. If nothing else, it might have water, which is more urgent. It’s the old rule of threes. A human body can survive three minutes without air, three hours without heat, three days without water, and three weeks without food.” Floyd studied the map, then pointed to a corridor. “That way?”

  “Yes.” Catalina stared at the display, trying to memorize their route. “But it’s a maze, and we don’t have a ball of yarn.”

  * * *

  Fortunately, maps were fixed to the walls at major intersections. They were smaller than the one in the entrance foyer, but obeyed the same confusing logic. After going astray a few times, Catalina felt she was finally getting a grip on navigation. According to the map, the kitchen was two levels directly above them. All they needed were stairs.

  Catalina tapped in the key code to open a door and was faced with a dead end. “Oh.” She returned to check the nearest map, to see where she had gone wrong, but she was not mistaken. It was the right door.

  “What is it?” Floyd asked.

  “This symbol.” Catalina pointed to the map. “According to the key, it means Movement through the levels. I was thinking it would be a staircase, but it’s just that empty room over there.”

  Floyd laughed. “Is that it? Come on.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Up. I’m betting it’s an elevator.”

  “A what?”

  “You’ll see.” He herded them into the small room. “We just need to tell it which floor.”

  “How?”

  Floyd pointed to a row of colored buttons. “Did you notice the level we entered had red, orange, and green lines painted on the walls, but down in the foyer, the bottom line was blue?”

  “I did,” Sam said. “I wondered if it meant something.”

  “Right. I’m betting it’s like color banding on resistors—colored bands relate to numbers. When Cat showed us the kitchen on the map, up in the corner were three big dots in a row—red, orange, and yellow.” Floyd pressed the corresponding buttons in order.

  The door swished shut. Catalina felt her innards jump, as if she were on a seesaw. After a few seconds, the door opened on an identical corridor. In fact, without Floyd alerting her, she would have thought they had not moved. However, the bottom stripe on the wall had changed color. If Floyd was right, the door she wanted was straight ahead.

  “Let’s hope whoever this key code belonged to had access.”

  He did, but the room inside was nothing like the familiar kitchen in the Squat, with ovens, hot plates, and cold rooms. Instead it was laid out in a regular array of tables and chairs, sufficient to seat thirty humans. Three of the walls were plain. The other was inset with four large control panels, flush with the wall. There were no doors to other rooms, or stores. If it was not a kitchen, how did it provide food?

  “Where do you cook?” Torvold was just as confused.

  Floyd went to the nearest panel. “They look like vending machines to me. You press these buttons to say what you want, and the food comes out here.” He pulled up a flap. The rectangular cavity behind was empty. “This screen would tell you what your choices are. And I’m thinking it doesn’t look promising. What does it say, Cat?”

  The display was blank except for a single line of scrolling text. “Hard to tell. I wish it would stay still.” Catalina followed the words across the screen to where they disappeared, only to reappear again on the other side. On the third time around, she read out, “Status granary empty. Feeding restricted…”

  “Out of stock. I could have guessed.” Floyd moved away.

  “Wait, there’s more.” Catalina waited for the words to reappear. “Feeding restricted to extreme situations.”

  “Emergency rations only?”

  “Could be. It says, press alpha.”

  A pyramid shaped package dropped in the cavity. Catalina lifted the flap and took it out. The three-inch pouch felt like paste or liquid in a soft skin. Floyd also got a pyramid and tore a hole at the top. When he squeezed the sides, a brown paste oozed out, looking like mud.

  “Do you think it’s safe to eat?” Sam asked.

  “No more dangerous than starving, which is our other option.” Floyd sniffed the paste. “Doesn’t smell like it’s gone bad. Here goes nothing.” He squeezed the pouch into his mouth and grimaced.

  “What’s it like?”

  “Never going to win any awards.” Floyd went to where a half basin was fixed against the wall and pressed a button on the side. A jet of water shot six inches into the air. After taking a long drink, he brushed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let’s just say I understand why it only gets eaten in emergencies.”

  Torvold opened a pyramid and took a sniff. “What do you think it is?”

  “I’d guess a blend of vitamins and nutrients.”

  He tasted it cautiously. “New tree ants? Hate to think what old ones are like.”

  * * *

  They spent the rest of the day exploring. The tower had a transport system for getting around the floors, which Floyd likened to a subway train. They came across huge vats of pink liquid, banks of cryptically labeled controls, knots of pipework, and strange objects none of them could even guess a use for. The key code worked for about one in six of the doors they tried. Luckily, these included what Floyd called the restrooms.

  Keeping the condition of good body, turned out to have a row of large beds, each one surrounded by multiple mechanical arms, ending in soft, rounded fist shapes. The temperature was noticeably warmer and more humid than elsewhere.

  Floyd broke out laughing. “I’m guessing Alien massage parlor as a translation.”

  They spent the most time in a viewing gallery where the long wall was covered by dozens of screens. These could be used to watch different corridors. Since nothing was happening, apart from an occasional caretaker scuttling by, even this had limited use. However, Catalina took reassurance in that nothing looking remotely dangerous appeared.

  The most potentially useful room was a tool storage, containing saws, lathes, hammers, workbenches, and a hose that shot out a tongue of flame. The outer and innermost rooms had windows, giving views over the islands and the central pit. They arrived at one in time to catch the last of the sunset. The thick glass added a purple tint to the colors.

  As the last rays faded, Sam turned from the window. “You said there were living quarters, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. There’s some not far from here.” Catalina had checked on the last map.

  The accommodation consisted of a dormitory lined with lockers and enough bunk beds to sleep sixteen people, plus two adjacent washrooms. There was also a small common room with tables, chairs, water fountain, and food dispenser.

  Catalina finished her third pyramid of emergency rations for the day. It was not getting any more enjoyable. The flavor was bland, with an acidic edg
e and a strange metallic aftertaste. “I hope this paste will keep us alive long enough to escape, otherwise we’re putting ourselves through an unnecessary ordeal.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get out of here.”

  Torvold thumped the ground with the butt of his axe. “Sam is right. Never give up. And if we die, we go into Valhalla together, side by side, singing.”

  Floyd leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. “Didn’t you convert to Christianity, Torry? I thought the Pope sent missionaries.”

  “I tell you, this Pope person gave big trouble in Iceland. The king of Norway pushed in with his nose. Then the Althing said we would become Christian. No arguing. When I said I would follow the new god, Leif was so happy, he gave me a boat to be captain. But, to say the truth, after I die, I would rather feast and drink in Valhalla than sit around being good with angels.”

  “Leif? That would be Leif Erikson? The man who first discovered America? Well, first except for Yaraha’s people who were already there.”

  “Ja. My father’s foster brother. He called it Vinland. Liz tells me America is the same place. Leif made camp and sent me to sail south and find how big it was. But my ship ran into a storm.” Torvold smiled. “Ah, Leif. He would be happy to know he is so famous. Always, he wanted to be the big hero. Much less messy to find a new land than die in battle.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Torvold frowned. “Do you want me to?”

  “No. It’s a figure of speech. It means I agree with you. There’s nothing good about war.”

  “I do not go so far. A man can test his courage in battle. Better to die on your feet.”

  “Maybe in your day. But for my generation?” Floyd shook his head. He patted the AK-47. “Remember, we were up against weapons like this, and worse. D-Day, I was two weeks short of my twentieth birthday. We got blown apart on the beach. Each day since is a bonus for me. It’s a day a lot of my buddies never got to see.”

  “So no more war for you?”

  “It wasn’t that easy. Guess it never is. After the war, I went back to college, majored in engineering, but I couldn’t settle. I volunteered when the Korean War started. The nightmares made sense there. When that was over, I joined the Coast Guard. Six months later, I ended up here.” Floyd smiled sadly. “And when I wake up tomorrow, it will be one more bonus day for me.”

  “Bonus days? That’s a good way to look at it.” Sam was staring at the food pyramid in her hands. “My bonus days started when I woke up and felt a little better than I had the day before. My pa didn’t wake at all, along with half our shipmates. But war? All Europe was going to hell in my day.”

  “My day too. That’s what D-Day was about.”

  “Pa tried to keep us out of it. The people doing most of the dying weren’t the ones who were going to get the prizes if their side won. That was the best bit about being with the privateers. We all got a fair share of the loot.”

  Loot. A fair share of the spoils from murder. Catalina worked on controlling her face. Sam was a pirate. Why was it so easy to forget that?

  Meanwhile, Sam crumpled her pyramid into a ball and tossed it at the aperture for waste disposal. She missed and the empty pouch bounced off the wall and ended up in a corner of the room. Sam scowled at it. “Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can find the door onto the roof and have a go at bagging a seagull. That paste makes Alonzo’s stew taste good.” She glanced at Catalina. “I’m sorry. I know what he meant to you, but I’m sure he’d be the first to admit he couldn’t cook.”

  “What do you know about the sort of man he was, or his abilities?” Catalina could hear the venom in her own voice.

  “He told us…Oh, nothing. Forget I spoke. I’ll try to think next time before I open my mouth.” Sam got to her feet. “I’m going to shower before bed.” She left the room.

  “Good night.” Floyd avoided meeting Catalina’s eyes. “So, Torry, what do you think’s a good name for a rifle?”

  He clearly did not want to get involved in an argument between her and Sam. Not that Catalina intended to drag anyone in. She made her own good nights and went to the bunk she had selected, taking Gerard’s notebook with her. Reading should help her settle before sleep. However, concentrating was impossible. In the end, she put the book aside. If she would be spending days trapped with Sam, she was going to demand some answers.

  The sound of a hot air dryer meant Sam had nearly finished her shower. By an unspoken consensus, Torvold and Floyd used one washroom, leaving the other for the women. Catalina waited inside the door for Sam to emerge from the stall. She was pulling down her shirt as she turned around and saw Catalina. Sam’s expression changed from surprise to confusion to irritation.

  “If you want to accuse me again of murdering Alonzo, can you wait till I’ve had a decent night’s sleep? It’s been a long day, what with the time jump and being chased by hunters. And to be honest, I didn’t sleep well last night, thinking about visiting Old Town.”

  “It wasn’t a guilty conscience keeping you awake?”

  “No.”

  “Of course. You don’t have a conscience, do you?”

  Sam ran a hand through her spiky hair. “So what is it? You think I fought with Alonzo and threw him off the roost when the hunters turned up? You think I could have overpowered him?”

  “Not on the ground, but the way you climb, you’re more ape than human.”

  “While I was hanging by my feet from a branch, I gave him a good shove? Are you serious? He wasn’t even trying to get to another roost. He was heading off into the jungle. How could I have made him do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Catalina could feel her conviction weakening. Yet Sam was not guiltless. She knew it. “You said something to him. You can’t deny it.”

  “Yes. We talked.”

  “About what?”

  “He had problems and blamed me, but it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t responsible.”

  “What problems?” Catalina advanced until she was within arm’s reach of Sam. “You know what was upsetting him. Why won’t you say?”

  “Because I gave him my word I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “You want me to believe he’d share a secret with you he wouldn’t tell me?” The idea was ridiculous. Sam had to be lying.

  “I found out by accident, sort of.”

  “You were spying on him. You overheard him talking.”

  “No. And it wasn’t what he said as much as what he tried to do.”

  “He said you attacked him with a knife. You forced him to do something.” Although what that might be, Catalina could not begin to guess.

  “I didn’t attack him.”

  “You threatened him.”

  Sam merely shrugged by way of answer.

  “Anything Alonzo said or did under duress wouldn’t count against him.”

  Sam stayed silent.

  “Anyway, I don’t believe he’d put any faith in a promise from you. He was a man of honor. He didn’t strike bargains with criminals.”

  “Well, you’re right there. He said my word was worthless.”

  “If he wouldn’t accept your oath, then you’re not bound by it.”

  “Believe it or not, my word means something to me.” Sam’s expression softened. “And I owe him. I disturbed a snake hiding in a sack. Alonzo got rid of it, and probably saved my life. Keeping his secret is the only way I have to repay the debt.”

  “Would he want you to keep it from me?”

  “You more than anyone else.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he cared what you thought of him.”

  “You’re saying he was guilty of some awful crime.” Catalina could not believe it.

  “Only in his own mind.”

  Catalina slumped against the wall and buried her face in her hands. Much as she wanted to deny it, the honesty in Sam’s eyes was undeniable.

  “How can I honor his memory if I don’t know the truth? Was I to blame? Had he gone mad and I was too bound up in
myself to notice?”

  “No. You were even less at fault than me. It was all in his head.”

  Catalina looked up, heedless of the tears filling her eyes. “What had he done? Please, you can tell me. An unaccepted oath is not binding.”

  Sam hesitated, wavering.

  “You had a disagreement on the Golden Goose?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Enough for you to draw a knife?”

  Again a nod.

  “What?”

  Sam stared blankly at the wall. At first, it seemed she would still keep silent, but then she drew a deep breath. “I only pulled the knife when he wouldn’t accept that I had no wish to become his bedfellow.”

  “Bedfellow?”

  “Yes, you know. The pillow dance. Play in and out. Do the trick.”

  Catalina shook her head. “Alonzo didn’t know you were a woman.”

  “That’s the point.” Sam shrugged. “It’s a hazard of being a pretty boy on a ship full of men who’re missing female company. Up till last year, I had Pa looking out for me. And on the Golden Goose, privateers have rules about giving respect to everyone in the crew. Even so, Alonzo wasn’t the first who’d needed to be persuaded I meant what I said.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

  “Very sure.”

  “It makes no sense. I can’t believe the absence of women would have affected Alonzo in that way. Back in Spain, some even nicknamed him ‘the monk.’ He never married, and was known not to visit houses of ill repute.”

  “I can believe that. He had no desire for women to start with. He made it clear his choice in lovers was for his own sex. If I’d been a man and said yes, it wouldn’t have been his first time.”

  “You’re lying.” But Catalina had no faith in her own words and was speaking on a reflex. The truth was written on Sam’s face.

  Unsurprisingly, Sam reacted with a flash of anger. “Fine. Believe whatever you want.” She reached for the door controller.