The Island at the End of the World

by Sam Taylor

  I want to bury him I say. My voices all crowky.

  Pa says come with me I no a good place we can put a stone on the grave an rite his name an grow flowers round the stone if you like.

  An we walk down the hill out from the trees into the sun. An I feel it on my skin a gen so warm an good an I wonder how such a sweet morning turnd so bad.

  I follow Pa round near the rocks bove the sea. He shows me a path that goes to a lil spinny of trees on ther own. Its a peace full place. The trees shelter yer back an sides an you can look out at the sun flected on the sea an the rising where sky touches water. Its all blue today you can harly see where one gins an the other ends. Pa uses a pick to dig the hole. It dont take long. I put Snowys body inside an Pa mutters some words I dont stand an sprinkles erth over the body. Wen I see the dark ness on his wite fur I start weeping a gen but silent now. An I member difrant times stroking Snowy an how he used to jump up to my shoulders an rub his face genst mine. An I smile an cry to gether like wen you get a rainbow. He wer a lovely cat.

  Soon the holes fild in an Pas put a big round stone on top an ritten SNOWY on it with a nother stone. We sit to gether near the stone an slowly the tears stop coming. I breath an sigh an look round in the silents. The trees an sky look difrant some how. Inside I feel lighter less bad than in the weeping but kinda hollow like I never felt befor. The trees an sky look greyer thats wat it is. Mor distant. Like theyre not mine any mor only trees an sky. Like some body took the I out of I-land.

  But who cud do that. Not even Pa. An then I member God an how He drove the man an woman out from the garden an how He drownd all most all the creatures on the face of the erth an I no it wer Him who did it.

  III

  There’s still snow in the shadows, but during the half-moon that’s passed since I first caught sight of my enemy, the springtime’s started coming through. I can see it in the Mountain Daisies and Indian Warriors sparkling like shards of sunlight and drops of blood all over the new-green grass. I can hear it in the clouds of swallows screaming as they swoop crazily over the lower treetops. More than anything, though, I can feel it in the looseness of my muscles as I climb towards the sun. My very bones seem to sigh with relief.

  And then I reach the top and look out through the glasses again, and the relief shrivels and petrifies like a snake’s head in fire. I stare at the dark mark with my heart clanging like a tocsin. He has not turned around. He has not sailed away.

  Did any of the bottles reach him? Surely the message within would have. But no, I should have known it would make no difference. He looks so tiny, so vulnerable from here. If only he were the ant he now resembles and I could crush him beneath the tip of my thumb, printing gore on the bluegreen flatness beneath, or push him down down down into the water to drown and vanish like every other creeping thing that once crept upon the earth. Why did this one have to survive, O Lord? Why do you send me such trials when I.

  They must not know.

  I lift the glasses and look farther west. Past the horizon, below the waveless sea … somewhere over there must be the City of Angels, where I lived all those years. Where I sat in a robocooled office, staring at a monitor or doodling on a Rite-Me or cradling my head in my hands and waiting for the pain behind my eyes to go away. The feel of the smooth tight clean-smelling cotton on my skin; the pressure of the tie knotted at my clean-shaven throat; coffee and cigarette smoke in my mouth: almost tastable, the memory … but a lifetime ago, a world away. Thank God. For without are dogs and sorcerers and murderers and lawyers and copywriters and WHOSOEVER LOVETH AND MAKETH A LIE.

  Calm down, calm. You know what happens when you get like this. I press one palm against my sweatshirted torso and feel the bone, flesh, fluttering muscle beneath. Don’t disturb the wasps’ nest. I take deep breaths.

  All gone. In the past. Lost forever.

  I move to the eastern side of the platform and look out. A vast stretch of nothing glares back at me: pale sky melting into pale sea. But somewhere out there, I know, is (or was) the City of Devils – New Orleans – where I was born and went to high school, where my parents were living when …

  I close my eyes.

  The great wave that crashed down on us must also have drowned them. I know it with my head but feeling it in my heart is something else. Too hard.

  Ma and Pa. Strange how the words can have two registers. One (doomful and reverberant) for the sound inside me when I think of them, and another (softer, sweeter, simpler) when Finn or Daisy say it to me.

  Pa.

  I love you Pa.

  I remember when I was five years old, it must be one of my earliest memories and I don’t know how much is real and how much I’ve imagined through the years of guilt and shame, but if I close my eyes now I can kinda see it, swimming, fading, coming back into focus like the sea through binoculars: our house in Davenport Street, the day we returned from the motel. The day after the flood subsided. My first flood, way back in 2005. I remember the empty roads, the eerie silence. I remember the triangular stain of sunlight on the front of our house, the roof unsmashed, then turning round and seeing Mrs Darley’s place with a big old oak tree growing upside down from its roof, the ripped-up roots reaching blindly at the air. And the sidewalks smeared with filth. And the stench of blocked drains, spilled trash, dead bodies. And the quiver in my belly when I saw that pack of dogs killing a cat: dogs that used to be pets, their jaws now slick with drool and hunger, eyes wild. And I remember (though I wish I couldn’t) pushing past my younger brother Eddie as we entered the driveway so I could reach the other side, the safe side, away from the dogs. And I remember (please forget) my father barking DON’T BE A COWARD SON, the white contempt in his eyes, and my shame. And that was only a small flood. What must the cities have been like in those final moments of the Big One, panic rising up with the water level, humans turned to rats on the Day of Judgement? O even my upstanding, courageous Father might have been frightened then. Even he.

  I open my eyes and look out again, but there’s nothing visible except for blank sky and reflecting sea, the horizon circling … and the dark mark.

  They must never know.

  I climb down the ladders and walk out through the Afterwoods. At the forest’s edge I turn left and walk along the shadow line, mechanically checking each of the traps and taking some small vague solace in the beauty of the morning mist over lake and sea. The stillness. The silence. At a moment like this you truly could believe we were all alone in the world.

  And then the God-damned cat comes out of nowhere and yows so loud it makes my heart start rattling and buzzing like before.

  I’ve never liked cats.

  ‘Hungry?’ I ask, looking it in the eyes. ‘Yow,’ it replies. ‘Yeah? Well, so am I. Fucking get used to it.’ It yows again and I kick it out of the way. It stares at me outraged, as if it cannot believe I would dare do such a thing. I hiss, and it retreats a little. Then I begin walking again and it YOWs and YOWs, sliding in front of my boots, scrabbling up my calves, staring at me as though I were evil GUILTY evil and it wanted to tell the whole world my secret crimes. I can see the damn red stains at the edges of my vision now, and I kick it aside again, harder this time, but it makes no difference, the scrawny white fucker comes back again, again, again, YOWing and YOWing, failing to take the hint, and finally the cat the trees the grass the sky everything in my vision turns deep scarlet and I pick the bloodcoloured beast up by its tail and it scratches my arm and I yell in pain and fury and fling the fucker. It hits a tree trunk and falls to the ground with a small crump.

  I close my eyes.

  When I open them again, the sky is blue, the grass green, the trees brown, the cat white. The cat doesn’t move. I walk up to it, feeling sick, and touch its throat. It’s dead. ‘Fuck,’ I whisper. The cat belongs to Finn. How will I tell him? He’ll be so.

  And then I get an idea. I pick up the dead cat and put it in one of the empty traps, letting the steel jaw snap down hard on its hind leg. With a little luck, F
inn will discover it by chance and figure the story out for himself.

  Satisfied, I begin walking back to the ark.

  IV

  I spy her hidden round a boulder jus her bare calf an its shadow poking out. Her calfs wite genst the yellow of the sand an the greyblack of the shadow an its sloping down cus her nees up an bent. Now I look I can see her footsteps in the sand go-ing up to the boulder. I walk softly cross to her. Wen I get closer I stop an listen. All I can hears her breathing an a kind of fast whisperd scraping.

  I step out from behind the boulder an say her name. Alice looks up like shes not realy sprized an mutters Come to spy on me Finn. Her eyes which are black an silvrish blue an wite an longlasht look up at me thru the like dark water fall of her hair.

  No Ive come to get you.

  Wy.

  Snowys dead.

  I dont no wy but I can feel my mouth wanting to smile wen I tell her like its funny or ahm barrast or some thing. Its strange cus I no how sad I am truely. I look a way an cover my mouth so Alice dont see. Her voice comes out softer wen she says

  Oh Finn. How.

  Caught in a trap. We buried him. He wer still warm.

  Theres silents an then she says Finn ahm sorry you loved that cat dint you an she hols her arms open like some times at night wen she wants me to cull her. I swallow an stand still. It feels rong in daylight some how. She looks at me for a bit an then mutters some thing an looks back down. Thats wen I mark wat shes got in her hands a sheet of paper an a ninkpen. My brows make a V an I say

  Theyre Pas arent they.

  Alice dont speak a word but gins to rite. I see black up side down lines on the top part an finely stand that this wer the scraping sound I herd befor.

  Wat are you riting.

  A letter.

  Looks like moren one.

  She stops an looks up with a crinkly smile that I no means shes mocking me. Theres some thing I hant stood. Wat I snarl.

  Not a letter of the alfa bet Finn. A letter like a message.

  A message I echo.

  You member that bit in the Tales where theres a man on an I-land Alice asks.

  Soon as she says it the pictures in my head of an I-land I never realy seen a bit like ours but difrant cus that wer how it wer scribed in the Tales. An a man with long hair an a beard like Pa. An trees calld palm trees which I magined with hands for leaves but Pa said they werent truely like that.

  In that story the man rites a message an puts it in a boll you member Alice says. An he throws the boll out in the sea an it floats a way. An then one day some body in a nother land scovers the boll an reads the message an comes to rescue the man from the I-land.

  Yeh I say tho in truth ahd forgot all that part with the boll.

  Well thats wat ahm do-ing says Alice like thats the end of it.

  I dont no wat she means so I jus say Wy.

  I jus want to no if theres any body out there she shrugs.

  We both look out to sea. The views the same as all ways sept now theres a pack of grey clouds on the rising an the bird with the angry shrawk is gliding round an round in the high blue.

  But you no there int I sist.

  No I dont. How do I no.

  Cus Pa said.

  Thats not true. He said he dint no. He said it wer impossle to be shure.

  I frown trying to member but its like looking at some thing thru mist or rain I cant realy make it out.

  Its like we dont no if theres life on any other planets says Alice. There might be or there might not be but we dont no.

  I think bout this for a wile an then I ask

  So wat does it say.

  Wat.

  Yer letter.

  Not telling.

  Dont be stupid I snort an try to grab the paper but Alice hides it behind her. Its private she says in an I-scold voice.

  I get a shoot of black anger an hate for Alice then an the tiger in my chests roaring bigteetht but Pas tol me I shunt ever tally-8 so I push the shoot back down a gen an say You coming to eat.

  Soon.

  Dont touch the water I mind her.

  Alice rolls her eyes an mocks Yes Pa.

  The tiger roars a gen but I jus shrug an walk on up the beach breathing too fast an fitting my feet in the holes in the sand I made befor coming down. Wen I get to the marsh grass Ive calmd down a bit. I stop an look round an I see Alice standing by the waters edge an some thing bright that I guess is a boll floating slowly a way from her. I walk up the slope to the pines an wen I turn round nex Alices started following me her eyes on the ground like shes thinking of deeps. Out in the sea the bolls jus a faint dazzle on the rising.

  The guitar makes that clungky echo sound wen Pa puts it on his nees an we all go silent. Weare in the fire room like all ways but the fires not lit. Its not cold tonight an I can feel the warm coming from the range in the kitchen. All the lights coming from the candles on the walls an the table. I watch Pas fingers move over the strings smooth as river water over stones.

  Like mos times theres a duum duum that Pa calls the rithum. This ones fastish an sounds kinda happy. At first I dont member it so I think it must be new but then the words start an it comes back to me.

  Well he got real mad with the sinners an sided he orter Let rain fall till the hole erth wer covered in water

  Theres candlesmell in the room an in my mouth still the taste of pumkin soup. Pa an me workt thru the after noon on a new garden. My back an shoulders ache from digging an my skins brown an buzzing from the sun. Deep inside me tho alls calm an still. It feels good to be tired after working like Pa all ways says.

  Noah made the ark like God told him out of gofer wood An that wer how he an his famly survived the great flood

  Its the song bout Noahs ark. Course I no that now cus I red the Bible but wen I wer Daisys age I all ways be leaved it wer bout us an how we rived at the I-land. I member wen Pa sung it befor I thought his name must be No-er. Alice an me we scust it after. I said Hes calld No-er cus he noes evry thing an Alice laft an said No hes calld No-er cus he all ways says No. Thats not true bout Pa all ways saying No tho. Truth is he jus wants to tect us.

  There wer kangroos an larmas an elfants all in the boat It stank to high heaven but at least they wer able to float

  Wen the songs over Pa takes a swig of wine an says Alice. She picks up her fiddle an bow. Daisy goes cross to Pa an sits on his emty nees an he puts his arms round her an his hairy chin in her neck. She giggles an Pa shushes her. Alice standing up near me hols the bow ready like shes bout to stab a fish an then

  Eee-wwerrr.

  Wat she plays I never herd befor its dark an slow. I watch Alice for a wile then close my eyes an I see the sun setting over the rising staining the sea like blood an Gods ghost moving over the waters. The songs got no words only string sounds but its beauty full an fear full. I open my eyes a gen an feel a shock cus Alices staring into me like shes angry an the musics gon jagged. But then her eyes kinda float thru an outta me an I stand that she wernt angry wernt looking at me a tall only see-ing the music an now the bows weaving sweet meldy from the fiddles neck jus three or four notes over an over but its power full sad. In the silents after Pa asks her wat it wer an she says

  I jus vented it.

  Truely says Pa. It wer strornery Alice. You got a title.

  Theres silents then Alice says Song for Snowy an she flashes me a tight lil smile. Then its gon an shes putting the fiddle an bow back in ther case.

  Nex I do some bird songs I been praxing. Pa shakes his head an says Thats mazing Finn. I smile an look at the floor. Pa can harly whistle a tall him self.

  Daisy stands up an sings her favourite the song that goes

  Its raining its poring

  The neighbors ignoring

  They laft at our boat

  Till we started to float

  An they were all dead in the morning

  Then we all join hands in a circle an skip round singing

  Rainy rainys falling

  The wether is up
alling

  Splish splash

  Glug glug

  All gon now

  We do it five times faster each time so by the end weare all laffing on the floor then after a wile we calm down an drink some wine an Pa picks up the guitar a gen. Them fer milyer notes come out the echo hole an Alice gets her fiddle out an pares to join in. I love this song it all ways makes me happy an shured. Pa rote it the day we rived at the I-land. I start tapping out a rithum on the wood floor with my feet an Pa an Daisy sing to gether ther voices like the sea an the sky.

  Morning has broken like the first morning

  The great wave has broken like the first wave

  Be cus the rain came an drownd all the sinners

  We live on this I-land an we are all saved

  The meldy gins slowish an all mos sad but soon like all ways weare speeding up an Alices fiddles whooping an ahm pounding the floor an the walls an weare all dancing even Pa with the guitar hanging from a strap round his neck. An hes singing like its the last song weare ever going to hear.

  The old world wer dying but now we are living

  The sins of our fathers are all washt a way

  Be cus the rain came an kild all the liars

  We no only truth now like on the first day

  By the time the songs ended weare all kissing an culling an the rooms spinning round us in a smoky blur. I can feel the hurrays shooting thru me.

  *

  I lie in bed closing an opening my eyes trying to see the difrance tween the two darks but I cant. Like some times the thought of the dark makes the black bird thats in me flap its wings. I magine Ive been buried under ground an wat I sees the erth packt tight to my I-balls. Or worse I magine the darks a black cape held down over my face by Pa to put me out my misry. And Abraham stretched forth his hand and took the knife to slay his son. I sigh an breath an coff jus to hear my self in the room an then I hear an ansring sigh from Alice. She turns over in bed the sheets shushing an I hiss