After the Flood

by Kassandra Montag

  Abran crouched at the water’s edge, dipping his hands just below the surface. He knelt and wedged the torch between two rocks. Then he slid his feet in and slipped under the water.

  The water was too dark to see him. I waited a moment. There was a rustle outside the hollow, but when I glanced out the opening I was blinded by the sun and couldn’t see anything. The cave smelled like a mouthful of dirt, and I had the sudden urge to gag.

  Abran surfaced and I jumped. The water made dark ripples around him.

  “I think it’s on a rock ledge, under some mud and plants. Can you hand me the rope?” he asked.

  I took the rope from my shoulder, uncoiled it, and handed one end to him. He dove underwater again with it. When he came back up, he lifted himself from the pool and crouched dripping wet beside me.

  We both pulled on the rope, straining against the weight, the rope burning my hands. Finally, the edge of a rust-covered metal box broke the surface of the water. Abran leaned forward, grabbed a metal handle, and pulled it toward us. It thudded against the rock ledge and Abran knelt before it, working on the rust-covered hinges.

  “Is it the one you remember?” I asked. A bat screeched behind us and I ducked, hands over my head.

  “I think so,” he said. “I’m not sure. There’s no lock. I thought we locked them.”

  One of the hinges was too rusty to open, so Abran hit it with a rock until it broke. The sound of the rock against the metal echoed in the cave, growing quieter and quieter like a ripple disappearing until out of sight.

  Abran lifted the lid and we peered inside. The contents were submerged in water and Abran pulled out clear plastic bags holding bottles. He held them up to the dim light of the torch.

  “Penicillin, tetracycline, amoxicillin,” he read, setting the bags on the rocks. He reached in and pulled out more plastic bags, these holding rounds of ammunition.

  “I thought you said this hiding spot was only for medicine,” I said, frowning.

  Abran paused. “It was.” He was very still, like he was listening for something. The wind rustled the branches of trees just outside the cave.

  “There aren’t locks on the trunk because they’ve refilled it. Refilled it and haven’t left the island,” he said.

  I took my knapsack from my shoulder and started shoveling the plastic bags into it.

  “They could be waiting . . .” Abran said, his eyes dilated even though he was staring into the bright opening at the end of the cave. “Could be a trap.”

  “Fill your bag,” I said, smacking his shoulder. I kept wiping my palms on my pant legs. Between the water on the cave walls, water in the trunk, and sweat now dripping from my brow, I couldn’t get dry. I thought of the others on the boat. Had Daniel spotted anything while they waited? I almost hoped that if they did, they would sail away without us.

  We filled our bags and extinguished our torch, darkness falling over us like a blanket. We crept along the rock ledge, our hands feeling along the wall for balance. Abran slipped on a wet rock and fell against the wall. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, his face only inches from me. I smelled alcohol on his breath.

  “Do you have whiskey in your canister?” I asked.

  “A tiny bit. Helps me focus.”

  I gripped his arm so tightly that he whimpered and tried to pry my fingers loose.

  “I swear to God, Abran, get your shit together,” I whispered.

  I let go of him and he stumbled forward. He grasped the edge of the rock wall and peered around the corner. “Looks clear,” he whispered. “Let’s try to make it to the stream.”

  I nodded and we bolted from the cave, trying not to stumble on the rocks, dodging trees and fallen branches. When we reached the stream, Abran held out his arm to halt me. We both crouched behind ferns and bushes growing along the stream. We crept down the mountainside, along the stream, glancing between the trees as we went, listening for anything unusual. Seabirds in the trees made a raucous noise, their thin voices like the edge of a blade. The sun was so bright I kept squinting, the muscles in my face sore and stiff.

  Abran’s hand shot out in front of me. He placed a finger to his lips and then pointed. Between two pines, a thin man in a long black coat smoked a cigarette. He had a tattoo of a rabbit on his neck. He was humming a tune we could barely hear over the birds’ constant screeching.

  Chapter 33

  Abran and I dropped to our stomachs, our arms tucked under our chests, our chins resting in the dirt, eyes locked on the man. Grass scratched my arms and rocks dug into my legs and chest. Abran breathed heavily next to me, his breath coming out loud and ragged. I elbowed him and put my finger to my lips. He dropped his head to the ground, his shoulders shaking and the dirt muffling his breath.

  The man gazed at the trees in the direction of our ship. Blood pounded in my ears. Could he see our ship below, or were the trees obscuring it?

  The man finished his cigarette, tossed it on the rocks, and meandered our way. The birds fell silent and we could hear the tune the man still hummed, some ballad that sounded Irish and ancient. All his hair was shaved off except for a long braid from just above the nape of his neck. The rabbit tattoo on his neck was in profile, and the single red eye of the rabbit seemed to stare straight at me.

  The trees cast long shadows in the grass before us. I wondered how long we’d been gone and if Daniel had had any trouble holding the ship’s position. The man approached the stream, squatted, and washed his hands, then stood and dried them on his long coat. We were tucked in the bushes on the opposite side of the stream. I could feel Abran go even tenser beside me, feel how he was ready to burst like a man held underwater.

  The man turned from where we were lying and began strolling along the stream. Abran and I both let out the breath we’d been holding. The man walked a few paces away from the stream, his back now to us. Abran lifted his head, turned to me, and nodded.

  We crept to our feet, crouching behind the bushes, keeping an eye on the man. A voice split the silence and Abran and I both jumped. I couldn’t hear what the other person shouted, but I thought I heard the word ship.

  “How far out?” the man called back.

  “We got to go,” Abran muttered, sweat glistening on his face, his hands shaking.

  “Not now,” I hissed, holding his forearm to keep him from bolting.

  Abran ripped his arm from my grip and rushed headlong down the stream. I swore and darted after him, stumbling over rocks, arms up to block being whipped by low branches. I hit a loose patch of stones and skidded, catching myself against a tree trunk.

  A bullet splintered the trunk next to my head. I didn’t turn to look; I broke into a run. Voices thundered behind me, yelling and cursing. Another gunshot rang out. Abran ran several paces ahead of me, branches thrashing against him as he broke through the underbrush. I smelled blood but I didn’t know where it came from. I went dizzy and the landscape before me seemed to blur.

  Below us I could see the cluster of pines where we’d hidden the canoe. Abran tripped and fell on the escarpment above the pines. He tumbled down, thudding against the rock with each roll until he disappeared into the tops of the trees, the needles shaking from the collision.

  I dropped to my side and slid down the escarpment, snapping branches from the pines as I fell, tumbling beside Abran next to the canoe. Abran tried to climb to his feet but was moving so slowly, I grabbed his arm and yanked him up. He moaned, and when I took my hand away it was covered in blood.

  The footsteps of our pursuers grew louder, the breaking of branches and flying rocks creating a din above and behind us. We pulled the canoe toward the water and splashed in and threw ourselves inside as a rain of bullets peppered the water around us. Gunshots reverberated like an echo. They felt both far away and like they were coming from within me, as if I’d already been splintered and flung across the water.

  I tossed an oar to Abran and we paddled in a frenzy, our bodies leaning f
orward, sweat in our eyes. A bullet rocked our boat, and I turned to see a hole and the water pouring through it. The moment widened and I felt that I was falling into it, my attention breaking and scattering.

  Sedna was only twenty feet away and Daniel had already lowered the ladder. Wayne was on deck, firing a rifle. We ran the canoe straight into the side of the ship. It rocked and almost capsized, the salt water stinging my eyes. Abran leapt from the canoe and grabbed the ladder, swinging on it before his legs, flailing in the air, found a rung and began to climb.

  The canoe was already drifting from the ship and I paddled closer again, dropping the oar as I leapt from the canoe toward the ladder. My fingers grazed the rope, but it slipped from my hands and I fell into the water. I clawed the side of the ship, small waves rolling into me. A spray of bullets littered the hull and I ducked underwater.

  When I resurfaced I swam for the ladder and reached it. The crew was yelling orders at each other and I felt the ship twitch as sails filled with wind. The ship heaved and turned as I climbed the ladder, and I slammed against the hull.

  I clung to the ladder and the water beneath me receded. Someone was pulling the ladder up. When I collapsed over the side of the gunwale my hands were raw and one was bleeding. I stared at it in confusion.

  Thomas was at the tiller, yanking it as far to the right as it would go. Behir dropped down from the rigging, a spare rope coiled around his shoulder. Daniel was at the mainmast, securing a block. Everyone was shouting to each other, but I couldn’t make sense of it.

  The hatch to the hull lifted and Pearl’s face appeared. I sent her a look that said stay down, and she dropped the hatch and disappeared. I dropped my head back against the gunwale, the blood from my hand staining the wood, settling into the weathered grain.

  We did it, I thought. We got it. I tried to steady my breathing but it still came out in spasms.

  There was no more gunfire, and when I turned and lifted myself to my feet, I saw that the island was already small in the distance. Daniel had caught a western wind and it was driving us east quickly.

  Marjan knelt beside Abran and helped him take his shirt off. He had a cut on the outside of his biceps, but no bullet wound. He must have been cut by a sharp branch. Marjan wrapped a cloth around his arm and picked up his backpack. I handed her mine.

  The hatch lifted again and I nodded that Pearl could come out. She ran toward me and I squatted and enveloped her in a hug. She tucked her head into my neck as she had when she was much smaller.

  “I got it, Pearl,” I whispered into her hair. “Your finger will feel better soon.”

  I could feel her smiling against my skin and she nuzzled closer.

  “Oh, no,” Marjan murmured. She had emptied one of the bottles into her palm and was looking at it.

  “What?” I stood up.

  Marjan held her hand toward me.

  The bottles didn’t hold pills. They held seeds.

  Chapter 34

  I stared at the seeds dumbfounded.

  Antibiotics. It had the names of antibiotics on the bottles, my mind kept repeating, as if repeating it would make it true.

  Someone slammed into me and I sprawled, knocked out of breath, my head ringing from hitting the deck. Abran grabbed me by my shirt and dragged me a few steps. He knelt and grabbed me beneath my arms and rammed me against the cabin wall. Before I could catch my breath, he shoved his forearm into my neck.

  I clawed at his arm, the space between my thoughts growing wider as I gasped for air.

  “I told you I didn’t want this. This is all on you,” he said, his face inches from me, his voice hoarse and unrecognizable. His eyes were bloodshot and his face red. My toes brushed the deck in desperate swipes.

  Daniel pulled Abran back and flung him to the deck. He pulled a pistol from his holster and cocked it at Abran.

  Marjan stepped between them, her hands up.

  “Put it away,” she said quietly.

  Pearl ran to my side and I massaged my throat, trying to bring back my voice.

  “What the hell happened out there?” Wayne asked. “Why were there raiders?”

  Daniel glanced at me, but I kept my eyes on Abran. I raised my eyebrows at him and gave him a warning look that asked him, Do you want me to tell?

  Abran gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  “Coincidence,” I said. “They’re everywhere.”

  Wayne glared at me. I saw now that my bag was in his hand, the zipper half open. He must have rummaged through to see what we got.

  “I don’t want to hear it from you,” he said. He looked at Abran, who slowly climbed to his feet.

  “Turns out raiders found the hiding spot before we did and removed the medicine and used it to hide other stuff,” Abran said.

  “Well, fuck,” Wayne said. “I hope these couple rounds of ammo and little garden seeds are worth it. They’ll be on our tail, now.”

  “Last I remember, this wasn’t my choice. It was all of yours,” Abran said.

  “They will have trouble tracking us,” Daniel said.

  “You think they can’t communicate with other ports?” Wayne asked. “We stole from them. It was the Lily Black, wasn’t it?”

  Daniel glanced at me and I could tell he was piecing together that Abran had been with the Lily Black. We all were quiet and then Abran nodded. Wayne kicked the side of the cabin and swore.

  Wayne was right. Open sea, each port, each island, could be a place where more of their crew was hiding. And they’d be on the watch for us. Not so much to get back what we stole as to assert themselves, to remind us and everyone else that they were people to be reckoned with. A new nation that could protect itself.

  “When we stop at Broken Tree we’ll slip in, trade, and slip out,” Abran said. “No telling anyone that we’re going to the Valley, so they can’t track us. Once we’re on the open sea we’ll be in the clear.”

  Wayne waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and dropped the bag. “Don’t think for a second it will be that easy,” he said.

  I knelt beside Pearl and took her finger in my palm. It was bright red and still oozing pus. I felt her forehead. She was hot with fever.

  I leaned back on my heels and squeezed my eyes shut. The Lily Black following us and attacking us felt inconsequential. Like talking about a chess move. It seemed so silly, all this arguing, squaring our shoulders, stomping our feet like horses before a race.

  Fear held steady in Pearl’s eyes like a lily floating on water. We both knew the finger would have to go.

  I’d rather have cut off my own hand than take away any part of her. But the fever continued to rage and I knew if we didn’t act quick, the infection would spread and she’d lose more than a finger.

  I sharpened my knife on the whetstone in the cabin. Dim light filtered through the dirty window. Daniel lit the lantern overhead so we could see better. Pearl sat in the corner of the cabin, on a stool, her hair glowing red in the low light.

  Abran only had limited surgical training from his parents, but he said he remembered enough to do it. To do it better than the rest of us, at least. As soon as we decided he’d do the amputation, I made him walk me through the procedure. A clean cut near the knuckle. Pressure and a bandage to stem blood loss. New tissue called proud flesh would form a scab over the wound naturally and offer a barrier against infection.

  When Abran came into the cabin he wouldn’t look at me, but busied himself with setting out clean cloths and the alcohol to sanitize the blade and the wound.

  I stepped forward to hand him the blade and smelled alcohol on him. I looked down at the bottle of alcohol, unopened. Abran saw my face and stepped away from me, slightly swaying on his feet.

  Drunk. Again. Drunk now, when I needed him to be sober. My mind unfurled in a white spiral of rage and I steadied myself against the table. One hand on wood, grounding myself. Abran dropped his eyes to the ground and muttered something I couldn’t hear. My hand shot out and I jabbed him in the chest. />
  “Leave,” I whispered.

  “Myra, I said I’ll do it,” he said.

  “Leave now. I don’t want you to fuck it up,” I said.

  Abran’s face reddened and he ducked out of the cabin. Daniel and I helped Pearl lay down on the table. She was so hot she felt like a glowing ember. I wiped sweat from her brow and pushed her wet hair back from her face. Daniel set a codeine pill on Pearl’s tongue. We only had a few left, but Marjan insisted that Pearl should take them during and after the operation. Daniel put the bottle of alcohol to Pearl’s lips and she took a few gulps, grimacing and sputtering, liquid dripping from her chin.

  “How long will it hurt?” Pearl asked.

  “For a while,” I said, dabbing her face.

  “Are you sure I can’t keep it?” she asked.

  “Honey, at this point, it’s only getting worse. This will save you.”

  Her eyes darted around the room like she was searching for a way out of this and then she shut them, squeezing them tight. Daniel held her other hand and whispered something in her ear.

  I unwound myself like the spool of a kite, the better part of me drifting away. I floated above, a drifting, incapable thing. Something untouchable, fluttering in the wind with nowhere to go, nothing to do.

  Down below I cut clean and she cried out and Daniel pressed the bandage to the stump and she shot up into my arms and I held her as she sobbed, the both of us shaking, until the light died and we were only voices in the dark, warm skin, eyelash on cheek, lips in hair, a tangle of limbs, a single shadow in the gathering darkness.

  Chapter 35

  After we got Pearl bandaged and asleep in her bunk I went into the kitchen to help Marjan butcher the carp I’d caught earlier.