by Dan Glover
Amanda thought it was all wishful thinking but that was all she had right now. She jumped when something slithered against her legs still dangling in the water thinking it might be a shark or a sea snake but then she realized it was only a rope. It must have unfurled from the deck below and its buoyancy allowed the loose end to float to the surface.
Using it to tie Ena's still unconscious body to the hull of the Liberty, Amanda gave way to the encroaching sleep that came over her. Just as she felt herself slipping back into the water and the darkness seemed sweet and precious, a set of strong arms lifted her back onto the Liberty.
Chapter 60—On the Edge
She was lying at the bottom of a well.
There were voices far above her but it took more strength than she had to listen. She never knew how much energy was required for such a simple thing as understanding a word. Someone was calling her name way up there among the treetops where the wind was rustling the leaves.
It was cool and calming down there. Ginger felt as if she was finally finished with a great task—she was ready to go home—and yet something was holding her in place, a string, nothing more. One gentle tug and she would be free.
She thought how she might be back in the creek where she used to play as a girl. Someone had hung a rope from a high branch of a tree they often used to swing out to the middle and drop off into the sweet deep water piled high behind the stone dam erected somewhere in the dim recesses of time.
It was quiet beneath the water. Looking up she could see sunbeams piercing the blue-green surface and rippling with the softly rushing currents flowing past her like a summer breeze on a warm afternoon.
She wanted to stay down there forever. She envied the Ladies and their ability to breathe the water just as easily as the air. A sort of forgetfulness rustled around the edges of her memory as one by one the worries of the world dropped away leaving behind only the soft touch of nothing.
The sense of floating upon a cloud brought her back to reality. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t above it all but below. If she drifted away into the air she might never return whereas if she could just rest for a few moments in the depths of the water she might emerge energized and alive once more.
A feeling of falling ensued like the time they dared her to jump from the highest branch of the tree growing by the creek and how her stomach rushed up into her mouth about the same time she hit the water.
Why did they keep calling her name? Couldn't they see she'd completed what needed doing? She grew irritated at the insistency of the unseen voices above her calling her back from this place where she belonged.
Pain enshrouded her body as she sensed she was being drawn upwards like a bucket of water banging against the sides of the stone-encircled well. Each bump jostled brittle bones and tore flimsy flesh.
Though she thought she was awake she began to realize her eyelids were so heavy that they wouldn't open. It dawned on her she was dreaming the dream of paradise. She wanted to go on pretending but that damned voice kept calling out her name.
It took every ounce of strength to force open her eyes. The light blinded her as she blinked herself awake, feeling irritated that that cursed voice didn’t understand the quest she was on: for sleep, for peace, for comfort and bliss.
"Ginger? Can you hear me?"
Recognition struck like a bolt of lightning out of the bluest of skies. It was her husband, her lover, and her man: Kāne. Why was he was holding a bundle of rags? Her mind turned flip flops trying to fathom where she was and why Kāne was so desperately calling to her.
"I think she's awake, Mindy."
Another voice which sounded familiar and yet alien at the same time spoke from somewhere out of sight. She hadn’t the energy to turn her head to look but she knew that voice and hated the sound it made as it echoed against the memories lingering thick and vivid inside her mind.
"Ginger? It's mom, sweetie... can you hear me?"
Ginger wondered who this imposter was. Her mother hadn’t spoken a word to her in fifty years. Her memory was slowly returning now. She was having a baby. Yes... that was what she was doing at the bottom of the well.
But it wasn’t a well at all... she was lingering beneath the soft cool waters of the creek that flowed behind Orchardton Hall. They all teased her so much that this was her only refuge. Now, they had discovered her secret.
"It's mother Lauren, sweet Ginger... we think you're passed the worst of it now. You have a baby boy, sweetie. Look how precious he is!"
Something warm was laid upon her chest. Ginger thought it was that kitten she once had as a girl and one day it just disappeared. Someone must have found it. She remembered how she loved that kitten as a warm feeling began to build as eager lips were suckling her breast.
"We named him Joshua just like we talked about, darling Ginger. Tell me if that's still the name you want."
"Kāne... is that you?"
Her throat was so dry she couldn't speak above a whisper. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and when she put forth the effort to pull it free it felt as if skin came away with it. Her voice sounded garbled as if she was trying to talk while holding a handful of marbles in her mouth.
"I'm right here, sweet Ginger."
"Thirsty."
"Can she have some water, mother Lauren?"
"Just give her a few chips of ice, darling Kāne... if she drinks too much she'll vomit."
"Is she going to be all right now, Lady Lauren?"
Why were they all so concerned about her? She was fine. She just needed to be left alone. How had they found her? Now, each time she sought out the privacy of the water they would know where to look. She would never have another moment's peace.
"Yes, Mindy... I think she's going to make it, thanks to you. Without your help she might have died."
"I should go then... I don’t think she appreciates me being here."
"Stay, Mindy... you'll be awfully weak for at least a day or two from the blood you gave Ginger. Stay here until you're feeling stronger. Visit with your grandson and your daughter."
"Mom? Is that you? What are you doing here?"
The sipping on the ice chips had helped Ginger's dry mouth and throat but her thirst still raged. Her voice was stronger though still barely a whisper and at least her tongue was working again.
"I came as soon as I heard you were in trouble, Ginger."
"Why? What happened?"
"You had some complications while giving birth, sweetie. Your mother saved your life. She helped deliver little Joshua and gave you blood from her own body. You might have died otherwise."
She didn’t believe mother Lauren. For some reason, the Lady was lying to her. Ginger didn’t want her mother by her side yet she hadn’t the strength to continue talking. The baby was nestling against her breast as she slipped back down the well.
Chapter 61—Island
Ena woke with a start.
The storm was over or perhaps the flotsam she was tied onto had somehow managed to drift out of it on its own. Though at first she believed she was on but a large piece of timber, upon closer examination she discovered it was in fact the upside down hull of the Liberty herself bobbing low in the water and yet still afloat.
"Hello?"
She was alone on an ocean still as glass. Untying the rope holding her onto the drifting carcass of their schooner she dipped beneath the waves scouting about for the others. The stiffness in her bones leaked into the salty waters though there was a grapefruit-sized lump on the back of her head that ached down to the middle of her shoulders with every movement of her body.
Circling the capsized ship she scampered back onto the hull to stand precariously surveying her surroundings. In the distance she spotted the tops of palm trees waving green against a blue background and white froth of the sea.
Having nowhere else to go and hoping her friend and family decided to make for dry land she dove back into the sea making her way with strong energetic motions through the depth
s homing in on the tip of land she knew was there.
The waters were full of life and silt stirred up from the depths by the great storm's passing. She tasted something else in the water too... dilute and yet obtrusive in her gills. She grew concerned knowing that they would never have left her tied to the capsized ship unless they deemed it an emergency.
Someone was hurt and hurt badly.
She remembered being in the hold with Amanda and with her mother trying to stop the water flooding in through a split in the hull. The engines were swamped. The ship was like a dead thing wallowing in the water.
"We need something sticky... this tarpaulin isn’t doing the job."
Her mother shouted to be heard over the rushing ocean streaming into the ship. They were standing in water up to their waists and it was rising fast. The Liberty was being tossed about like a paper cup.
"You should go up top, sweet Amanda. You're in danger down here."
Ena knew her friend would very likely die tonight. The ship was sinking. Even though her father assured her that the Liberty could not sink, seeing what was happening now convinced Ena otherwise.
"I'm not leaving you, my darling Ena. If I have to die, I want it to be with you."
Amanda was soaked in sea water. Her dirty blonde hair hung limp and damp over her face. Her beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot from the irritating effects of the salt. And yet Ena was quite sure she had never seen a more beautiful girl in her life.
Despite their predicament Ena wouldn’t willing choose to be anywhere else at that moment than with Amanda... she wanted the girl close to her always, to hear that luscious voice purring to her the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night.
When she took her in her arms it seemed as if there was only the two of them. The storm ceased to howl and the water gushing in through the gash in the side of the Liberty no longer troubled her. Mother and father disappeared. There was only Amanda and the love she felt for her.
When their lips met it was as if the two of them were caught up in a vortex of calm, an island in the center of a sea of calamity. She wanted to stay there forever but feeling Amanda's body pressing against hers brought her out of the fugue she had fallen into as she realized she was going to lose this girl tonight.
The world came rushing back. The fury of the sea seemed to be steadily increasing. The three of them held onto one another to keep from being driven into wooden bulkheads lurking in the shadows. Ena silently damned her father for not listening to her after they ran aground when they sailed around the Isles two weeks ago.
"I think the ship is leaking, father."
"We'll have a look when we get back into port, Ena. I don’t think it is anything serious though."
She respected her father too much to argue with him but she knew rotten wood when she saw it. The hull seemed solid except for one spot that was spongy to the touch, as if termites had started to make a meal of it. She also knew her father was so intent on sailing to America to save her grandmother and grandfather that he would ignore any peril.
Now she chided herself again for not being more firm with him in repairing the damage to the hull. Swimming beneath the waters she wondered if the Liberty could be salvaged though she knew without asking anyone that the ship was a total loss. Breeching the surface to gauge the distance to the island she noticed movement on the beach. Diving under she redoubled her efforts to reach dry land. The dark beneath the waves reminded her of something... what is it?
Oh yes... she remembered being in the hold when some force enormous and irresistible struck the side of the ship causing her to lose her footing. Though she tried to catch herself the back of her head hit a bulkhead. The next thing she knew she was waking up tied to the hull of the Liberty and completely alone.
Why would they leave her all alone like that? Was everyone else dead? Surely her mother and father could have dived deep below the surface and survived but what if they too had been knocked unconscious?
Perhaps they had fallen into the sea and sank into the murky depths where the creatures of nightmares lurked always hungry and forever searching for the next meal to fill their bottomless bellies.
What would she do all on her own? She had no idea where she was. The radio in the cabin of the Liberty was doubtlessly swamped with sea water and useless. She imagined she might be able to swim back to old Scotland but what would she tell the others? That she had simply abandoned both her parents out of a vague sense of fear?
She guessed Amanda was dead, no doubt drowned in the submerged hold. Suddenly she had the urge to turn back. Maybe the girl was trapped. Perhaps there was enough air down there to sustain her until she was rescued. She should have checked out the hold before she started for the island.
How could she have just left the girl without at least searching for her? Only a few hours ago she was ready to spend a lifetime together with Amanda on their own private island apart from everyone with only each other to paint upon the days and the nights with colors of love and whisperings of sweet nothings.
She suddenly realized why Alpin had forsaken her for Amanda... the girl was some kind of special being capable of engendering feelings that Ena had no idea she possessed. If she had damned the girl to slow drowning in the submerged Liberty she would never forgive herself, not in ten thousand years.
Love was such a stupid thing. It meant nothing. Only fools fell in love while the wise kept a distance between the feelings they felt and the object of affection those feelings were directed to. Alpin had taken a lot of time to teach her that lesson but she was a poor student.
Testing the surface again she saw the shoreline was now so much closer. Three people were waiting there... one lying on the sand and two kneeling.
Chapter 62—Revelation
When Kirk saw the big cat crouching amidships and gazing toward him he stopped short.
The memory of his encounter with the tiger and its cubs in the old village of Kurgan came roaring back. This creature put that one to shame, however. Its stripes were silver and gold with foot long fang-like sabers jutting out of its upper jaw. Its paw pads were easily a half meter across as the beast stood a good meter taller than him at the shoulders even in a crouch.
Every muscle in his body tensed in a mad desire to flee but he knew if the creature attacked him first the others might have a chance to escape. Like back in Kurgan he wondered fleetingly what that first bite would feel like, those razor sharp fangs slicing through his flesh tearing muscle from bone, the feeling of being torn apart bite by precious bite.
He remembered the coolness of the catacomb tunnel beneath the earth and how good it felt to just be alive and how he never again visited the old village where he once lived. The need to reminisce no longer haunted him, the face of his father no longer taunted him, and the childhood bullies were all dead, dust and bones.
The thing from his nightmares rose up and moved closer.
The enormous cat was now so near he felt the whiskers of the beast caressing his face as its maw hung open huffing the air as if in search of a meal. Its fur stood out like talons but its steel gray eyes were strangely calming. It tilted its enormous head while gazing at him as if he was something completely new and heretofore unknown. Those eyes were like steel balls floating in stagnant black ponds of oil.
He remembered thinking of those tiger cubs and their eager anticipation of making a meal of his flesh while their mother crunched his bones and drank his marrow. Perhaps his immortality meant he would not die but instead would become those tigers. He wondered if he would live on in this beast too, a chimera, a changeling, always there behind cold steel eyes.
There was no tunnel here, no easy escape unlooked for, and there wasn’t any sharp darkness to engulf him and to shield him from harm. Though an ocean breeze spilt over him fragrant and wild and they were many thousands of kilometers away, Kirk caught the faintly morbid stench erupting from those old ossuaries stacked deep and thick under Orchardton Hall. Would they inter his cracked
dead bones there too?
Years ago he recalled following Nate into the catacombs, curious where he was going. Kirk's savior, Drummond, was discovered dead after he and four girls left the Ladies in an idiotic attempt at starting their own colony. They asked Kirk to go along but he refused. He had never been the smartest guy around but he understood why he was alive. To leave the Ladies was to seek death.
"Don’t go, Drummond. Remember how sick we were when we arrived here? The Ladies saved our lives. You'll die out there."
Kirk stammered relentlessly in those days. They were drinking brandy from a flask Kirk pilfered at a smashed liquor store in Kurgan and sitting by the creek that ran behind the castle. Drummond took a big pull from the bottle and smacked his lips.
"You're still a stuttering simpleton, Kirk. Whatever virus that wiped out the world is long gone, my friend... you can stay here and be a lap dog to those water bitches but we're leaving. You'll see... we'll have our own country and when we return in a few years everyone will want to come back with us. This is your only chance to come along... I won't ask you again."
"I'm not going."
"Lucy is coming along with us."
"I don’t care about that, Drummond."
"I thought you liked her."
Kirk always suspected Lucy was his daughter and not Drummond's but Mindy, her mother, swore otherwise. It was as if Mindy was ashamed of being seen with him and though they were secret friends, she never acknowledged him at all when others were around.
Watching Drummond molest the girl infuriated Kirk but he felt impotent. Though he wanted to step in and stop what was happening, he feared Drummond would turn on him instead of the girl. Now, all these years later, he was still ashamed of those poor choices he made. Perhaps this last act of courage would be one of atonement.
The beast stepped closer, so close that its open maw redolent of rotting flesh and a weird smell of eggs seemed ready to bite his head off and swallow it in a single gulp. The world was silent like a newly opened tomb. Even the lapping of the incoming surf against the bow had ceased.