The City on the Sea (City on the Sea Series Book 1)

by Heather Carson

  The City on the Sea

  (City on the sea Series Book 1)

  Heather Carson

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2020 Heather Carson

  Courtesy of Blue Tuesday Books

  Cover Design by Fay Lane at faylane.com

  ISBN: 9798570355019

  ‡ Chapter One ‡

  The solid earth is grounding. I can feel the pull through the soles of my feet deep into the core of the planet. Although my legs are shaking, unaccustomed to the lack of rocking rhythm on the docks, I’m steady now. I curl my bare toes into the shoreline and the grains of sand shift between them. The sensation is comforting. This is the way mammals were meant to live.

  “Move.” A fisherman with gold tinted red dreadlocks pushes through the crowd of waiting adults. I lift my head to watch him pass. He still has his sandals strapped to his feet unlike the rest of us who stand here enjoying the beach against our skin. His salty face and crystal blue eyes are hardened with a singular focus as he forces his way to the front.

  “What’s the hurry?” the collective emotion from the crowd seems to sigh. “You want to go first, be our guest.”

  Too soon, the iron latch is lifted and the metal gates creak open. The first face we see is of a woman with a gray bun and tight lips. She gives us a disinterested glance before turning her attention to the line of anxious children behind her. Watchmen dressed in their dark green clothes, with weapons at their sides, move forward to guard the gate.

  The children are respectfully silent as they wait their turn to be released. The salty man who still wears his shoes is the first to collect his child. The boy that grabs his hand stands a foot taller than the others.

  My heart breaks as I watch him leave. The tears in his eyes and the resolution on his father’s face tell me this is the last day of his youth. The crowd parts forming a ceremonious path for their exit. Silently, we watch the boy go.

  He gives one last look through the open gates as his father leads him off the beach. I offer him a reassuring smile, hoping he can see me in the sea of faces, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he’s too distraught to care. His father doesn’t look back as he pulls the child up the rickety metal steps toward the main wharf and the floating cities where we live.

  *

  “Auntie Brookie,” my nephew whispers to me after his name has been called and I retrieve him from the line. “Guess what I have?”

  We are standing at the edge of the crowd right before the steps. His innocent face is brimming with excitement.

  “What is it Zander?” I chuckle softly catching his conspiratorial tone. “Aren’t you going to show me?”

  He glances nervously at the adults. Seeing they are still preoccupied with enjoying their few precious seconds left on the beach, he slowly nods at me. From his pocket he pulls a small stone with specks of glitter that catch the sunlight and sparkle it back to us. Instant fear overcomes me, and I clasp my hand over his small palm.

  “Zander,” I whisper harshly. “What in the world were you thinking?” Confusion, and then panic, plays across his face.

  “I only wanted a piece,” he begins to stutter. “Something for when I can’t go back. It was all alone and no one will miss it. I promise.”

  I drop to my knees and hold his hand firmly, willing him to understand what I have to say. “This isn’t yours and you can’t keep it. We never take from the land. We protect it at all costs and if we do that then one day, you’ll get the chance to live there. This is wrong. Remember what your parents told you. We must always do the right thing and don’t cause trouble. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  His eyes are round, and he slowly nods again. He doesn’t have the slightest clue how important this is. I sigh as I shake my head.

  “Stay here,” I instruct him. This he understands and sits dutifully on a rock as I push my way back through the crowd.

  “Excuse me,” I say calmly, holding my hand out to the stern woman who watches the children during the day. “This got stuck in Zander’s shoe. We want to make sure it gets back to where it belongs.”

  Recognition lights up her eyes. “Brooke isn’t it?” She arches an eyebrow. “You are so grown up now.” I smile as I hand over the stone, not having any recollection of who she is.

  “I knew your father,” she reassures me. “He was a good man.” I flinch at the word “was” but do my best to hold my composure. I don’t want anything to take Zander away from his happy childhood days and getting on this woman’s bad side is probably not the best idea.

  “Thank you,” I respond quietly as I turn to leave.

  “Thank you for bringing it back,” she calls after me. “You’ve always done the right thing.”

  *

  The wharf is alive with noise. Hundreds of people packed onto the main pier screaming and laughing at one another. My world smells of fish drying under the sun and the musty scent of the tide coming into the harbor. The metal grates under my sandals feel uneven and cold compared to the beach. I already miss the calming sensation of digging my toes into the sand.

  Zander holds my hand as I weave us between the market stalls. It’d be easy to get lost in this chaos, but we cling to each other as I navigate down the familiar walkways through the city.

  “Watch out!” I laugh pulling Zander closer to my side. Bergah from the stall to our left flings a mackerel toward Anna’s market on our right. The old woman stands there with scowling eyes and hands on her hips as she faces down the fish attack.

  “What’s the matter, grandma?” Bergah yells as he scratches his protruding belly. “You don’t like our catch?”

  “It’s rotten,” she growls. “Just like you are.”

  “Why don’t you retire already?” Bergah chuckles. “You’re too beautiful for this place.”

  Zander jumps up into my arms and wraps his legs around my waist. I’m forced to lean backward to accommodate his weight.

  “He’s being mean to her,” Zander whispers in my ear. “That’s not right.”

  “It’s just a game. They are only teasing each other.” I smile reassuringly at the boy as I maneuver us out of the crowded market. “Let’s get you home now. I don’t want your mama to worry. When she worries, she doesn’t play games.”

  *

  “Thanks for getting him today.” My sister Meghan stands in the front room of their little shack with her swollen belly stretching the seams of her tanned seal dress to the breaking point. Her breaths are labored as she waddles across the rusted aluminum floor to give Zander a kiss on top of his curly brown hair. He brushes her off and runs to his toys in the back room.

  “You should sit.” I eye her feet which have doubled in size since this morning. “Seriously. Your toes look like sea cucumbers.”

  Her sarcastic reply gets stuck in her throat as she tries to look at her feet over the massive belly hiding them from view. We both burst into laughter and she clings to me as we walk to the bench at their dining room table.

  “I can’t wait for this baby to come out,” she groans as she leans back.

  “Yeah, I’m never getting pregnant. I don’t know why you did this to yourself again,” I joke. Meghan rolls her eyes, but beneath her tough exterior
I can see that she is scared. This pregnancy is nothing like it was with Zander. Her frame is too small, and her belly is too big. But she’ll never admit her fear out loud, so I sit on the bench beside her and casually hold her hand.

  “We should get you a rocking chair,” I sigh. “Something more comfortable to relax on.” The words leave my mouth before I think them through. It’s no surprise when the flash of anger lights up her deep brown eyes.

  “And be like her?” She glares at me. “No thanks.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I speak softly, trying to keep the peace. My tactic works. Meghan lowers her voice and squeezes my hand.

  “I know,” she says. “But it bothers me. The whole situation is messed up and I hate that you are still living there. She’s a grown woman, but she makes everyone miserable. That’s no kind of life for you. I wish you’d just stay here.”

  I look around the two-room shack. It’s much smaller than our childhood home where I still live. The table and kitchen area fill half the front room. Rowan’s fishing gear is stacked in the corner. The backroom is the sleeping area. It’s already a tight enough squeeze without the new baby.

  Don’t get me wrong, Meghan is pretty well off compared to how the rest of the world lives. It’s only that our home is bigger, and it’d honestly be better if they all came to live there. Except that will never happen, so I quickly change the subject.

  “Zander took a stone today. I brought it back. Don’t worry, I said it was an accident. I don’t think he’ll get in any trouble,” I reassure her.

  Meghan’s eyes narrow and I know the trick didn’t work this time. “Stop avoiding this conversation. I’ll deal with Zander later. You shouldn’t have to live like this. She’s old enough to retire. Tell her to go or you come stay with me.”

  “Dad wouldn’t want me to leave her alone,” I offer in weak defense. “It’s not the right thing to do.”

  “You’re wrong.” She squeezes my hand again. “Dad would never be okay with what she is doing. He would have wanted you to have a happy life.”

  I lean over and kiss her freckled cheek. “I have to go now. I don’t want to be late for work.” She holds my hand a moment longer before giving up, but the fight isn’t over.

  As the door closes behind me, I hear the sharp sound of my sister calling for my nephew. A small pulse of pity runs through me for the lecture Zander is about to receive, but it’ll be good for him. It’s better to learn these lessons early in life.

  *

  The women sit on the rocks off the side of the main wharf near the entrance of the cave storage centers. The sound of their practiced music comes drifting over the salty air, greeting me before I can even see their sun-darkened shoulders as they bend over the work in front of them.

  Their chatter and songs encircle me as I take my place on the rocks next to Lena. She glances up as she reaches for another strip of plastic and smiles warmly.

  “How’s your sister?” she asks.

  “Huge.” I laugh as I lean my back against hers and reach for the material beside us.

  Lena and I have been best friends since we were young. We couldn’t be more opposite, but that doesn’t make me love her any less. At sixteen, we both nervously asked for a job with the spinners. We always wanted to work together. It’s been two years and although I love working with my best friend, this job is getting a little repetitive.

  I work the strips of plastic into twists. Wrap at the third spin. Then I repeat the process over and over until my fingers go numb. What I’ve created is a single cord that will be bound with many others.

  In the old times, when there was more land on the earth, they supposedly had fibers from plants to make rope. We don’t have the space or technology to replicate that process, but the old ones did leave us a gift. Millions of pounds of plastic bags were buried in the sea when the world sank. Our divers still recover more all the time and this simple item helps to keep us alive.

  We twist and tie, strengthening each small strip into rope strong enough to pull in ships and delicate enough to use in fishing nets. The spinners are a cocky bunch of women. We know how vital this work is to humanity’s survival.

  “Is that the same one as yesterday?” Lena nudges me with her elbow and I turn to look in the direction she points.

  Standing on the edge of the wharf, watching with cold and calculating eyes, is a watchman dressed in his dark green uniform. He’s the same one as yesterday.

  “I’m not sure,” I whisper in response as I lower my face and reach for another strip of plastic. “They all look the same to me.” My heartrate quickens, and I twist the plastic faster forcing myself to focus on the work.

  Lena doesn’t notice because she’s still staring at the watchman. “I think it is the same guy. Why are they coming over here? They’ve never cared about this section before.”

  “Maybe he’s looking at you, girl.” Margaret chuckles in her ancient accent and her bones creak as she stretches out her back.

  I can feel Lena beam behind me. “Do you really think so?” she asks. “Too bad the rotation starts tomorrow. He’s missed his chance.”

  Lena sighs and returns to her work. I stay still and focus on mine as my brain races with the familiar paranoia that I’ve come to know so intimately for these past few months. What Margaret says could be true, Lena is without a doubt the prettiest girl in the entire city. Except I know in my heart it isn’t true. The watchman is here for me.

  ‡ Chapter Two ‡

  “Hey Brooke,” Tordon greets me at the edge of the wharf. The sun is setting over the sea. The spinners have stored our work away for the night. The watchman has vanished, but I still feel uneasy.

  I give Tordon a courteous nod. Things haven’t been right between us for a while now. Not since we attempted to kiss a few months ago, which felt very awkward and clumsy and is frankly not an experience that I’d ever like to have again. Still, our families have been friends forever. I don’t want to be rude to him.

  “Hey Tor, what’s going on?” Lena asks as she steps onto the wharf behind me. I’d always thought they’d make a good match. They’re both beautiful and tall with chiseled features, but he is sturdy and strong while she is whimsical and soft. Then the kissing incident happened and now Lena refuses to look at him in that way.

  “Not much.” Tordon shrugs. “There’s a storm coming in tomorrow sometime. We aren’t taking the boats out, so my old man wanted to offer you some work scraping barnacles if the sea is calm in the morning.”

  “Alright,” I answer. It’s been a long time since Tordon’s father asked for my help and he’s not a man you say no to. “I have to get Zander from the wall tomorrow. As long as I can leave before then I’ll come.”

  “It shouldn’t take that long.” He turns to Lena. “What about you?”

  “Uh, no thanks.” She scrunches her face in disgust. “If the boats are staying in then the tavern will be busy. I’ll probably need to help there.”

  Lena wraps her arm through mine intending to walk with me home. Tordon stares at us for an uncomfortable minute blocking our path.

  “Was there something else?” I ask. He shakes his head and steps to the side.

  “I think he still likes you,” Lena giggles once we are out of earshot.

  I nervously look around to make sure there are no watchmen nearby. They’ve never worried me before, they are only here to protect us after all, but the same watchman has been appearing wherever I go since my father died. I get the feeling that the less they know about my personal life the better off I’ll be. Thankfully, they change duty stations every six months and go somewhere else on the coast. I’ll probably never see his face again.

  “Focus Brooke.” Lena snaps playfully. “Do you still like him too?”

  “Not at all.” I cringe. “And I feel awful about it.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” she laughs. “I change my mind all the time. It’s too much fun to play around. I’d hate to be stuck with one gu
y right now.”

  “I think we have opposite problems,” I tease.

  “Well if you weren’t so prude, we would have the same problems.” She bumps against me with her hip.

  “I’m not prude.” My jaw drops. “I have a lot of things on my plate and dating isn’t one of them.”

  “I know,” she says softly. “I was only joking. How is she? Any better?”

  “I don’t know,” I sigh. “I guess I’ll figure that out when I get home.”

  *

  The sun sank quickly over the flat endless horizon of the ocean. Lanterns are lit on the main walkways mimicking the thousands of stars twinkling above us. With the sky this clear and the moon so bright it doesn’t seem like a storm is coming. But my neighbors are hard at work closing storm shutters and tying down loose ends.

  I leave Lena at our intersection and hurry home. The only thing I’ll have to do is lock the shutters. I haven’t pulled out our fishing gear in months so there’s nothing to blow away.

  I brace myself for what’s to come as I walk the dock nestled between the boulders close to the cliff face. My father said this cluster of rocks was once a mountain top long before the core of the earth heated to unstable temperatures.

  This is something I’ve always wanted to know more about. It’s passed down from generation to generation like all our stories, but there is no record of the actual event. They say there used to be something called books and this type of history would be written in them. Whatever material they used to make books has long since disintegrated. My father taught Meghan and I how to read the words they would write in them, but it was just a silly game. No one writes anymore.

  It’s said that when the earth’s core heated up it caused the polar ice caps to melt and set off a chain of seismic events that reorganized the way the earth looked. Earthquakes dropped shelves of land and the rising seas swallowed them up. The increase in energy pulled the moon closer raising the sea levels higher. Now the land of our ancestors is buried under the water beneath us.

  The small amount of earth that remains is preciously guarded and protected. There was too much fighting and not enough resources. That’s why the wall was built, and the watchmen were made to guard it. Only when you’ve reached retirement age are you given a choice to live out your days on the land.