“That’s alright. You can go now. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
“Not really.”
Cal scoffed. “The mill’s still a wreck. Shouldn’t you be out shoveling up debris or something?”
“That’s not my concern right now.”
“I bet Darius just loves that.” Cal was starting to get impatient, and he didn’t bother masking his sarcasm this time. He had enough to absorb, bringing Andrea home for the first time. Hunter’s lingering presence was bordering on unwelcome.
“He knows what I’m doing, and he’s fine with it. Actually, he wanted to come help too, but I told him that he needed to tend to the bigger matters first.”
“Fine. I get it. Could you just… just finish up and leave me alone?”
Hunter frowned and nodded. “Well, Traci should be by in a bit with a can of baby formula. Let me know if you need anything else,” he said as he walked back to the sales floor.
Cal grumbled under his breath as he climbed the flight of stairs to the apartment. The rise of the treads seemed much steeper than before. Andrea wiggled at an inopportune time, and Cal nearly dropped her. He cursed and finished the ascent.
The simple apartment was a mess. Clothing baskets had rattled on their shelves, a few toppling outward and spilling their contents on the floor. The ceramic wash basin had fallen from its perch and shattered into four large chunks and a dozen or so small, razor-like splinters. The latch that secured the slatted wooden shutters closed had broken loose, and the left shutter creaked softly, bouncing off the wall and swinging back toward center, before the wind would catch it and repeat the process. Only the crib and bed seemed undisturbed, except for a modest coating of dust.
Cal ignored the jumbled chaos and maneuvered to his side of the bed. He snapped the top blanket back and forth a couple times, catapulting the dirt into the air and onto the floor. He then lay down, still cradling Andrea in his arm. She adjusted out of instinct, but was soundly asleep. Cal unscrewed the medicine bottle with his free hand and popped a pill into his mouth. It felt as if it caught in his throat as he swallowed, and at once he wished he had washed it down with a swig of water.
He sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling. Minutes passed with nothing more than the rhythm of the loose shutter and the erratic breathing of his daughter to remind him of existence outside of his thoughts.
So what the hell do I do now?
What you’re supposed to do, his familiar voice echoed from within. What you’ve been doing for the past six years. Only now you get to figure out how to do it without frying or suffocating that little girl there.
It had been years since Cal had heard from his inner tormentor on a regular basis. One of the colony’s botanists had discovered that the bark of an otherwise ordinary, albeit brightly colored, flowering shrub contained compounds that could be extracted and refined into a low grade anti-psychotic. Cal had been taking it regularly since its discovery, though it had slipped his mind to ask for some when he was recovering at the hospital. Now the voice, who he called “Jerk”, only spoke to him when he drank, or during the winter when the medicine was not available.
How am I supposed to do that without Lexi?
I assume that whack to the head didn’t make you forget how to brew hooch or diesel. I don’t remember Lexi helping you with that part. So what’s the problem?
What’s the problem? She took care of everything else! Selling it all. Bookkeeping. Cleaning the shop. She was supposed to watch Andrea!
Well I guess you have a couple options here, Jerk snarked. Find a way to do it all yourself, or hire someone to watch the shop.
I can’t afford to hire anyone, and you know it.
Well, there’s the third alternative. Close up shop and try to find other work. Let’s see here, what can you do while you’re toting around that little bundle of joy of ours?
Cal blinked his eyes hard for a moment, trying to ignore the pluralization.
Well, construction’s out, the voice continued. So’s exploration. Probably shouldn’t have sharp things around her, so the mill and the butcher shop are out. Can’t work in the foundry or the smelter, she might get cooked. Oh hey, I know! You can go teach. Cal swore he heard cackling in his mind. Oh wait, not you can’t. You don’t know anything worth teaching.
Hey, that’s not fair. I know how to make fuel and soap.
Great. Take on an apprentice. That’ll solve all your problems.
“An apprentice,” he scoffed out loud. “Yeah, right.”
Why don’t you worry about feeding the kid first, huh? Sort out the little stuff later.
Yeah, you’re right.
As usual.
Shut up.
Make me.
Cal pinched the bridge of his nose and made a mental note to visit Dr. Taylor in the morning for the medication that would do exactly that.
Gabrielle Serrano
17 June, 6 yal, late morning
2 miles northeast of tropical archipelago
The bow of their ship dipped as it passed over a large, rolling wave. Daphne and Diego squealed as a spray washed over the ship, while Marya and Aidan huddled together at the stern. Kristin sat at the tiller, staring almost blankly into the distance. The air carried a bitter chill in it, and distant thunder trembled with a low growl. Memories stirred, and Gabi shuddered as a sudden uneasiness gripped her.
That better not be a hurricane, she thought nervously.
Will muttered a curse as he leaped from the outrigger to the starboard cargo hold, making the ship rock slightly side to side even as it ascended another wave. The wind shifted direction, and their forward momentum stopped.
“It’s no good,” he grumbled to Kristin, jerking his head at the darkening clouds that had swallowed the land mass far ahead of them. “We’ll never get there in one piece if we try to cross now.”
She sighed and nodded. “Where do we go then?”
“Double back. There was a cove at that last island where we can put in and let the storm pass.”
Gabi shook her head and tucked her slender frame into the cargo hold, nestling among the sacks of dried vegetables and jerked meat. The boom of the sail would soon sweep above and the safest place for her, though full of conflicting odors, would be below deck. Diego joined her, adding to her apprehension. She turned away from him when he tried to cuddle up to her. Diego squealed in protest, but didn’t press the issue any further.
Stuck on this damn boat with him and Marya. Nowhere to run to. And now we have to turn back.
Will would have them on their way again as soon as the storm passed—assuming it didn’t turn on them, of course—but making up for the lost time was not an idea that Gabi cherished. If their cobbled-together boat had walls, they would have been closing in on Gabi, squeezing the very life and breath from her.
The boat rocked and pitched as Will adjusted the sails to compensate for the shift in the wind, and Kristin had the vessel pointed back toward the modest island they had passed less than an hour earlier. It was about eight miles long and two wide, Gabi guessed. Lush vegetation formed a verdant crown over the wide sandy beaches. The sight of familiar salt palms and vinewoods as they closed in gave Gabi a small measure of relief. She would be able to hunt, and hunting meant relief from her constant companions, even if for only a brief time. Will might object, but she knew that the others would appreciate the fresh meat, and Gabi would win out on the argument.
It took an hour and a half for them to reach the cove and secure everything in case the storm changed paths. Gabi collected her bow, quiver, and an empty sack, and excused herself to hunt. Will didn’t object; he didn’t even seem to hear her, his attention firmly on the distant tempest. She was almost disappointed by this reaction, and the lack of ensuing argument. As she disappeared into the jungle she took a long look back. Karina was overseeing the setup of camp, and the younger children took to their duties without hesitation. Even Daphne, at four years of age, kept herself busy collecting pepperine
s from the shrubs at the edge of the beach.
Good, she thought. Keep them out of my hair.
She found fresh tracks all over, and began to sort them out. A wide variety of smaller animals were present in abundance, but it didn’t take Gabi long to figure out that the dreaded jaguars were nowhere to be found. Nor were the wild boars that were common around their old home. Her mouth widened into a pleased grin. There would be no predators today, or at least none that were a danger to her.
Easy pickings.
She spent hours hunting brush rabbits and fat birds of all colors. She only returned to the beach when the grumbling protest of her empty stomach escalated to the point where she couldn’t ignore it any more. By that time she only had three arrows left that she hadn’t broken or lost altogether. Gabi didn’t want to waste any more ammunition, so her last kill was made from close range with a thrown tomahawk. The damage done to the miniscule rabbit by the heavy axe was grotesque, and she had to leave the mangled, unusable corpse behind.
Gina and Caleb were tending to a fire, boiling water that they had found somewhere nearby. Most of the others were hanging around a makeshift shelter at the jungle’s edge. Will was alone, sitting on the bow of the center hold, eyes still fixed to the stormy east.
That’s weird.
Gabi hauled the game sack to Caleb and handed it over. She didn’t linger long enough to help her elders prep her kills for cooking. Instead she took a purposeful line for the crew’s leader. Will didn’t pay her any mind as she approached.
“Too bad we’re stuck here,” she said, taking a seat on the outrigger opposite him. “But at least we’ll eat well. Who knows, maybe we can stock our supplies a little.”
Will gave her a brief, dead glance before his gaze returned to the stormy seas.
“What’s eating you?” she scoffed.
“It’s such a long way,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
“Through the strait. It looked so tiny on the map, but it’s really quite far.”
Gabi furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about? You said it would be like twenty or thirty miles from the last island to the mainland. That’s a half a day, maybe.”
“Could have been the wrong half of the day.” His piercing eyes finally turned to make contact with hers. “We could have been early, or the storm could have been late.”
“So you turned us back. So what? It’s a good thing.” Gabi smirked. “It means I don’t have to kill Marya yet.”
Her morbid humor was lost on Will. He did not rise to his usual reaction or threats to forcibly remove Gabi from the crew or complain about her constant feuding with Marya. Instead he looked back across the sea and sighed heavily.
“I hope they made it. Before the storm hit.”
“Who?”
“The rest of them,” he growled. “Nick and Daniel’s ships. How far ahead of us were they? They left the day before we did. Did they catch better winds? Were they moving faster than us? Did they make it across before the storm?”
“You saw what I saw,” Gabi countered. “That storm came across this morning. We could see the mainland before it crossed our path. It wasn’t there yesterday.”
“What if there was another storm yesterday? Or the day before?” he snapped back. “What if they were out in the middle of that strait, exposed? None of the ships could stand that kind of wind or waves. Hell, I’m really not sure if this thing will make it all the way across the strait on a good day.”
Gabi hopped down from her perch and took a seat next to Will on the bow. Hesitantly, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Nick’s not an idiot. Neither is Daniel. If they saw the storm coming they would have run for shelter.”
Will shrugged her hand off. “Shelter would have been this cove. This island. See any other ships here, Gabs? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
“Or it could have been on the other side. If they made it most of the way across, they wouldn’t turn back. Like I said, Nick’s not an idiot.”
“Well, I am.”
“For what?”
Will’s attention turned to her suddenly, and the hard scowl on his face put Gabi’s nerves on edge. “For letting you delay us. For not letting the past go. For thinking that letting you walk through the wreckage of our lives one last time, or to worship Captain Kimura’s grave one more time might possibly make you a civil being. If we hadn’t lost time waiting for you to come around to the fact that it was time to go…”
“What, Will?” she cut him off. “What would you have done differently if we had sailed with the other two ships? I mean, you seem to think they got caught shaking their asses at a jaguar. That they’re all dead. You have no idea.”
“I know they’re dead,” he bellowed. “Every one of them.”
“You don’t know that. You didn’t see the storm roll over their masts. We haven’t seen a trace of them since we left the Sorrow behind for good.”
He rose up from the bow and took three steps away from her, then paused. “You’re right. I don’t know for sure. But I have a feeling. It’s something I can’t shake. Like instinct. When I’m hunting and… and my eyes are lying to me.” He spun around to face her. “You of all people should appreciate that. Especially after all we’ve been through.”
“The only thing I see right now is our chief freaking out. Either they’re safe and you’re worrying about nothing, or they’re dead and you should be thanking me for being such a pain.” She hopped down and curtseyed sarcastically. “You’re welcome.”
Will laughed and shook his head, though it was hollow. The bitterness of his words drove that point home as soon as they came out.
“If you could, for one second, feel an ounce of anyone else’s pain but your own, you would see the world a whole different way. I hope someday you get a chance to look back on yourself and see what a prickly little bitch you are.” As he walked past, he drove home one final thought. “But I know I shouldn’t expect that kind of self-awareness from someone who can’t even open her heart to her own flesh and blood.”
Her temper erupted in an instant. Gabi picked up a handful of wet sand and flung it at Will, hitting him in the back. He ignored it and continued walking toward the camp. “He’s not my brother. He’s just the reason my mom’s dead.”
Before she could hurl any more words or sand, Will was out of range. Though she held contempt for him, she did not want to pursue him. Isolation called to her, luring her into the hold of the boat with its song. In the bottom of the former fishing canoe she would be free from the judgment that she constantly faced, or the enemies within the crew. She would be left alone for the night, and that was all she could hope for.
Gov Darius Owens
21 June, 6 yal, 17:21
North Concordia
Darius counted the doors that passed to his left as he walked Benedict Boulevard. The exercise was more mental than a navigational necessity. Still, it had been a long, laborious day, and he needed to do whatever was necessary to keep exhaustion at bay. Assuming that his efforts to repair the colony’s power grid had succeeded, the two remaining errands would take him only a few minutes to complete. But no matter how short they were, he would still be returning to his temporary home on Michael in the dark. In the dying twilight, the details of the market square began to fade into one massive, dark shadow.
The fifth door on the east side was his target, preceded by a pair of benches that jutted out from the building in a wide ‘V’ shape. Frank Devereaux’s shop was a popular gathering point that, for the past week, had been eerily silent. Devereaux had been busy directing the Colonial Volunteer Militia in cleanup and repair efforts, and his clients were scattered to the wind. Some tended to friends and family injured during the earthquake, others stood shoulder to shoulder with neighbors in an incredible effort to repair and rebuild damaged buildings all over the city.
Darius stepped up to the door and rapped hard with his bare knuckles. It was only a moment later that he realized he m
ight not be presentable. In a fit of self-consciousness, he checked his attire. His pants were dusty, and several frayed fibers marked where a new hole was beginning to form at the knee. His once-white tank top was a dingy gray, and huge, dark sweat stains ran down the sides.
Well, that’s professional, he thought, irritated at his presentation.
The heavy door swung open, and Devereaux rubbed his eyes and blinked. Darius’s only consolation was that the Captain of the CVM looked even worse for wear than he did. Devereaux’s clothes were equally dirty, though with more rips. An angry, red welt on his forehead spoke of some recent construction mishap.
“Yes, Governor?” he rasped, his voice nearly gone.
Darius straightened up and smiled. “Just wanted to check to see if you’ve got power back.”
“Let me check.” Devereaux disappeared into the darkness of his shop. Darius could hear his feet drag along the floor.
He’s as tired as I feel.
It took Devereaux three minutes to return, which Darius found to be oddly long. When he did, he nodded. “Yeah, it’s back. Had to reset the breakers for the refrigerators.”
“Ah,” Darius nodded. “Well, that’s good to hear. That means we can reopen the lumber mills and the foundry tomorrow.”
“And not a minute too soon. We used up all the back stock of building supplies.”
Darius rubbed his scalp and neck. “Well, I’ll have to remember for the future to keep around spare poles for the power grid. If we didn’t have to go out and cut down new ones by hand, we could have got everything up and running a lot faster.”
“Hindsight is perfect. Seeing into the future… well, that’s a different matter. See you tomorrow, Governor.”
Darius bid him goodbye and continued down Benedict to River Way. His final stop would take him on a more personal errand, to visit a friend whose life had been torn asunder by tragedy. Cal McLaughlin had barely been seen by anyone in the colony following his release from the clinic. Hunter and Dr. Taylor were the only two who had contact with him since then. Darius didn’t begrudge him one bit. But sooner or later he would need to give his condolences, and checking in on Cal and Andrea could not wait any longer. In his mind, Darius was already well overdue for this visit.
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