After the Flood

by Kassandra Montag

  I thought of Marjan’s hands as they made Pearl’s cake, those hands that did so much for the good of everyone, the invisible work we all enjoyed. I looked at Pearl, ready to take her first bite of the cake, made by people who cared for her as if she were their own child. Just as how when Grandfather was with me, Pearl wasn’t just my child. She was his, too; I didn’t have to shoulder the whole burden of raising her.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that Pearl knew we weren’t just deceiving them; we were using them for our purposes. Undermining them and everything they’d fought and suffered for. As she smiled at everyone smiling back at her, she knew.

  I was strung between my choices, stretched to the breaking point. I had to rescue Row. But I couldn’t do it this way. Not anymore. My heart rose higher in my throat until I felt like I was choking.

  “I lied to you all,” I said, so softly I felt it could have been only a thought.

  “What?” Wayne asked.

  Daniel’s face softened in a way that made me feel like he was taking my hand.

  “I lied to you all,” I said.

  “What?” Wayne said again, this time in angry disbelief.

  “Just let her finish,” Daniel said sharply.

  “I wanted to go to the Valley because my daughter is there—she’s being held captive by the Lost Abbots. The Valley is a colony—” The crew exchanged shocked looks and Abran glared at me. He set one palm down on the table like he was going to spring up out of his chair. I felt like I was running out of breath, so I rushed on. “They made it a colony after they used biological warfare to attack and subdue everyone. There was an epidemic—the plague—this was months ago. I don’t expect—” Wayne stood up so quickly his chair toppled over backward, and Abran held up a hand to tell him to wait. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for deceiving you. I’m telling you because there are antibiotics hidden on an island that we’ll pass soon. If we stop for them, we’ll have protection in case the epidemic isn’t gone yet. And also protection against future biological warfare. I think we should put it to a vote. Vote on whether to stop for the antibiotics.”

  Abran’s face hardened as he watched me, hatred darkening his eyes.

  “What makes you think we’re still even going to the Valley?” Wayne asked. He looked like he wanted to reach out and snap my neck.

  I took my eyes off Abran quickly, and my voice grew quiet once again. “You have nowhere else to go.”

  Marjan’s face held so much sadness, I had to look away from her, and I didn’t dare look at Behir or Pearl. The room was so silent, I heard the rhythmic clinking of a broken block out on deck, above the soft lapping of the waves against the boat. The sweet smell of the tomatoes and peaches had soured to an acidic scent and hardened in a glaze over the uneaten fish.

  “I could throw you off this ship right now,” Abran said, his voice cold and even. “But what would I do with Pearl?”

  “You’re not doing anything to Pearl,” Marjan said sharply.

  My heart thudded in my chest and my tongue was too dry in my mouth to speak. I tried to remember the ship rules and various punishments. But they wouldn’t maroon Pearl, I kept reminding myself. This both comforted and terrified me. She would be safe and I would be separated from her.

  Daniel stood up. “Whatever you do to her—”

  “Daniel, stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you,” I said. If they did anything to me, I needed him to stay and take care of Pearl. I knew I could count on him for that.

  “Did you know about this?” Wayne asked Daniel.

  “No, he didn’t. I kept it a secret,” I said.

  “Take her down to the hull,” Abran said.

  Wayne thundered around the table, throwing aside a spare chair, and grabbed me beneath my armpits and yanked me from the table like I was a rag doll.

  “Stop!” Daniel roared, charging at Wayne. Abran leapt up and stepped in front of him, slamming his elbow into Daniel’s chest and plowing him backward against the table. Pearl jumped up from her chair to dash after me, but Thomas caught her in one arm, her hand stretched out at me, calling my name.

  The darkness outside hit me like I’d been dunked underwater, voices tumbling from the cabin like sounds from a sunken ship. As Wayne pulled me toward the hull, I heard Pearl’s cries, her high shrieks begging them to stop.

  Chapter 31

  Wayne tied my wrists with rope and shut me in the storage room, locking the door from the outside. I sat on the floor and leaned against bags of flour on the bottom shelf. A calendar had fallen off the wall and lay at my feet. Marjan kept a careful inventory on the calendar. Her neat script filled each day, listing what supplies had been lost and gained that day. Each day had a diagonal line through it until what must be today: October 5.

  I reached out and touched the paper, pulling it closer to me. Row’s birthday was October 2. Just a few days before. She had just turned thirteen. I’d first bled when I was thirteen, and undoubtedly she would soon, if she hadn’t already. Her body was a clock I was racing against. And now who knew if I’d ever reach her in time.

  The footsteps above me quieted and stilled. I tried not to think and dozed against the shelving, tossed to the ground when Sedna hit a wave. After some time, when I figured it was morning, the door opened and Abran stepped in.

  I sat up straight. “Is Pearl okay?” I asked.

  “She’s fine. Marjan is with her.”

  He shut the door and leaned against it. I waited for him to speak.

  “Did you lie about the resources?” Abran’s voice was cold and even. “About the materials for houses, the wells, the safety of the layout, the good soil?”

  “It is good land,” I said. I sifted through my memories, trying to remember what was true and what had been lies.

  “You’ve put everything I’ve built at risk. Everything. Were you even planning to help us build a community there? Or just get your daughter and run?” Abran asked.

  I looked down. I had mostly only thought of how to rescue Row and keep Pearl safe. I hadn’t thought much beyond that. “Whichever was best for Row and Pearl,” I told him.

  “Is someone else waiting for you there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your husband. The father of your girls. Did you just tell us about your other daughter to win you some sympathy? A mother rescuing her daughter, not a wife wanting to be reunited with her husband? Seems like something you would do,” Abran said, shaking his head at me as he spoke.

  “No,” I said. “My husband is dead.”

  Abran paced the small space of the storage room. “We discussed changing our destination, but you were right—we don’t have any other good alternatives. Not a lot of land left.” Abran flung out his arms and laughed. “They wanted to know how you knew about these antibiotics and I told them you had a friend who told you about it.” Abran shot me a sharp look. “I still don’t want them knowing about my time with the Lily Black.”

  “I’m not saying anything,” I said.

  Abran just glared at me and shook his head. “I’ve spent years building their trust. You undermined me. I decide what they need to know. I could maroon you for this.”

  I struggled to stand with my hands tied behind my back, but I made it to my feet. I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes. “You need me.”

  Abran took a step toward me. “You’re easy to replace.”

  We both knew that wasn’t true. Abran reached out and turned a can so the label faced us. We were running low on inventory; half the shelves were bare.

  “It was Marjan. Well, and Daniel, but we wouldn’t listen to him. Marjan spoke on your behalf. Said she couldn’t really blame you. And Behir agreed, and then, we couldn’t really do anything without them on board.” Abran shook his head. “So we aren’t marooning you, but we also aren’t letting you join us when we get there. You’ll help us take care of the Lost Abbot guards, and then you’ll be left alone. To die in the wild or try and sail somewhere else, I
don’t care. You’ll be dead to me. We’ll take Pearl and your other daughter—if she’s still alive. But not you.”

  I nodded, but a cold terror gripped me and I tried to hold myself steady. He’s angry, I reasoned with myself. This will all settle. At least the worst hasn’t happened—at least you and Pearl won’t be marooned. This will buy you time.

  But the image of being separated from Pearl and Row, being left alone to die, chilled me. I’d have to find a way to become necessary. To prove myself so they wouldn’t exile me. “And you’ll be fishing for us day and night. I want you out there working the nets and lines until your fingers bleed,” Abran said, pointing to the deck.

  I nodded again. Abran stepped behind me and cut the ropes that bound my wrists. As the relief receded from my body it left a heaviness, a deep ache settling on my chest. I had thought my fishing would save me, since I could keep the crew from starving. But that wasn’t it. It was Marjan and her mercy. Mercy she had because she knew loss as intimately as I did.

  “And they voted to stop for the antibiotics. Just like you wanted.” Abran’s face twisted in a sneer.

  I knew his anger was a thin veil over brokenness, disappointment. I took a step closer to him and was surprised when I didn’t smell alcohol on his breath.

  “I’m sorry. I really am,” I told him.

  Abran let out a low laugh. “You’re not very good at apologizing. Do you even regret it?”

  I paused and then shook my head no.

  He tossed his hands up behind his neck, elbows pointing out, and turned from me.

  “I trusted you more than I trusted most of my crew,” he said. “What a fucking moron I was. I thought you could be a big part of this. You and I. Together. I thought we’d be side by side building this place . . .” He tossed out his hand as though to gesture to an imaginary place where we could be, building something different.

  I wanted to defend myself, to ask him to imagine my position.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about us,” I said.

  “Us?” Abran tossed his head back and laughed. “You think ‘us’ matters, compared to this?” The agony in his voice told me that it did. That the betrayal hurt more coming from me.

  “You knew it was a colony the whole time and you were leading us blind!” Abran said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped closer to me and something in his eyes made me take a step back. He leaned in and roared in my face, “You knew!”

  He lunged forward and grabbed me by the throat, but instead of squeezing, his hand went limp at the touch of my skin. His face collapsed to my chest and he began to sob.

  I wrapped my arms around him and smoothed his hair.

  “I’m losing it, Myra. Losing all of it,” he murmured into my chest.

  “No, you aren’t. We’re going to make it there and you’re going to set up the community you promised. This doesn’t change that. I’ll do what I can to help and then I’ll leave.”

  He stepped away from me and wiped his face with his arm. He opened the door and turned back to look at me.

  “The hell of it is, I actually liked you,” he said.

  “I liked you, too,” I said, softly, but he shook his head and walked away.

  Chapter 32

  When we neared Ruenlock, the sun was already high in the sky. I thought of a clock’s hand ticking around the sky in a circle. The closer we got to the island, the tenser Daniel became, his eyes focusing into slits as he turned the tiller. He kept scanning the horizon as if scared he’d miss something.

  The coast was a rock-strewn mountainside littered with pines and evergreen shrubbery. Wayne was stationed in the rigging with the binoculars to keep an eye out for any other ships or signs that raiders were on the island. So far no one had seen anything.

  Pearl came and stood beside me.

  “You’re doing all this for my sister, aren’t you?” Pearl asked.

  “All what?” I asked.

  “Meeting raiders. That’s why everyone is so worried.”

  “We’re not meeting with raiders. We’re stopping here to pick up supplies.”

  “This isn’t a trading post,” Pearl said.

  “Pearl. I’m doing it for us. All of us.”

  She gave me a measured look. She lifted her hand, the one with the cut finger. The skin around the cut was bright red, pus oozing from the wound.

  “It hurts,” she said.

  “Pearl!” I took her finger in my palm and a clammy sweat broke out on my back. I pushed my hair back from my face and swore.

  “Is it bad?” Pearl asked. I could tell she was trying to steady her voice.

  I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “It will be fine. I promise.”

  Abran walked up to us. “Let’s dock there,” he told Daniel, pointing ahead to a small rock outcropping less than half a mile from the coast. “Then Myra and I can paddle to the coast with a canoe.”

  “Can’t dock there,” Daniel said, not bothering to look at him.

  Abran stiffened. “I said to dock at the outcropping. I don’t want to bother with the anchor. We’ll need to be able to get out fast if need be.” Abran’s hands were twitching and he jammed them in his pockets.

  “I don’t think you want a hole in the hull,” Daniel said. “The rest of the mountain is too near the surface.”

  “I don’t think you want to disobey my commands,” Abran said.

  Daniel smirked at Abran. I stepped between them.

  “We can drop the canoe here without anchoring. We’ll only be gone . . . maybe two hours?” I looked at Daniel, hoping he’d back me up.

  “We’ll drift some, but I can circle back,” Daniel said.

  “You need to be here when we’re done,” Abran said. Sweat shone on his brow and he gnawed on his lip.

  “He’ll be here,” I said.

  Wayne and Thomas helped us drop the canoe into the water and Abran and I climbed down the ladder into it. As we paddled to the shore I kept trying to look between the trees, to see signs of people or a camp. There were still no boats in sight, but that didn’t mean they weren’t anchored just beyond my view, around a bend or in a cove.

  We pulled the canoe ashore and hid it among the pines. Abran read aloud from a small notebook.

  “There’s a hollow in the side of the mountain, up beyond a cluster of spruce. There’s a small stream that flows on the right-hand side. Follow the stream up the mountain to the hollow.”

  The stream was easy to find, pouring into the ocean between several pines, making a tiny waterfall. We began our ascent and very quickly we were out of breath, pausing often to drink from our canisters.

  Tiny purple flowers bloomed alongside the stream, reminding me of wildflowers alongside the road in Nebraska. How odd, to remember driving in a car, watching things fly past. Telephone poles, flowers in ditches, mailboxes. Half-invisible things until you missed them.

  We had climbed about a half mile and still had not seen an outcropping of spruce.

  “Are you sure about the spruce?” I asked. “Maybe some other tree?”

  Abran shook his head. “I took careful notes on all the hiding spots.”

  “You go that way, I’ll look this way. Only a few paces. We can’t lose each other,” I said.

  We separated. There were only pines as far as I could see, no spruces in sight. I kept looking down at my feet, stepping carefully between rocks to avoid tripping and tumbling down the mountainside. I had a heaviness in the pit of my stomach, a premonition that we wouldn’t find what we were looking for.

  I stumbled over a rock and looked down. A handmade cigarette stub lay next to the rock. I picked it up. It smelled more like soot than tobacco. The dirt close to the rock held several perfect shoe prints, leading away from where I stood. The cigarette and the prints were too unspoiled to be old. Someone else was on this island.

  I glanced over my shoulder, peering through the trees. I saw Abran walking toward me, his hand out, beckoning me to follow him.


  “I found it,” he said.

  “Sshh, idiot,” I whispered, quickly clambering over the rocks toward him.

  “I should have written that it was a little to the left of the stream, not directly visible from the stream,” he said. He led me past a cluster of spruce trees to the front of an opening in the mountain face. Moisture clung to its walls like beaded sweat and the depths of the cave stretched back into darkness.

  “I found this,” I said, holding the cigarette stub out in my palm. “And footprints.”

  “Shit.” Abran dropped his head and swore again. “We shouldn’t have come!”

  “We don’t know who it belongs to. Calm down. Let’s just keep quiet, get what we need, and get out.”

  “I knew we shouldn’t have come!”

  “We’re already here. I’m not leaving without checking. Do you have the torch?”

  Abran looked around, his shoulders hunched to his ears.

  “Abran!” I hissed.

  “What? Yeah, yeah.” Abran unzipped his bag and pulled out a stick with a gasoline-soaked rag at the end. We lit it and Abran glanced over his shoulder one last time before we entered the cave.

  I followed him, stepping onto a ridge that lined the rock wall of the cave. A pool of water lay in the middle of the cave and I heard a trickle farther back, where the light from our torch could not reach.

  Abran was several strides ahead of me. “We have to be quick,” he said.

  The ridge along the cave wall was slick and littered with small pebbles and I almost slipped, catching myself against the wall, my hands flying across its smooth surface, looking for something to grasp and steady myself. The light jumped in shadows around Abran and he stopped at the back edge of the pool. I could only make out his silhouette, and I crept closer toward him. Behind the pool, bats screeched and collided against one another in a flurry of wings. They dove from the rock ceiling the way birds dive to catch fish, only I couldn’t see what they were catching in the low light.