The Uncharted Series Omnibus

by Keely Brooke Keith

  A small smile curved Roseanna’s lips as she stood. “My, don’t you look dashing!” She began straightening Everett’s cravat and glanced back at Samuel. “Doesn’t he look handsome?”

  Everett did not mind her motherly attention, but he wanted to see his father while he had the chance. He craned his neck around his mother. “How are you feeling, Father?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, son, just fine.” Samuel wheezed out a breath. “Roseanna, let the boy alone so we can speak.” She nodded then skirted Everett and left the room. Samuel motioned to the empty chair. “Have a seat. There are some things I want to say to you while there is still time.”

  Everett sensed his father was about to impart his final wishes and felt his throat tighten. He lowered himself into the chair. It was still warm. “I can stay home tonight if you wish.”

  “No, no. You should go to Bethany’s party.” Samuel smiled and his cheeks rounded. “She’s a sweet girl—came to visit me today, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “She did. Precious girl. She cried when she said goodbye.” Samuel took a few shallow breaths. “John Colburn is a blessed man to have her for a daughter. She’ll make an excellent wife for you one day.”

  Everett chuckled at his father’s bluntness, but the sound was muffled by fluid emotion as he blinked back tears. Samuel lay quietly for a moment. While Everett waited for him to regain the strength to speak again, the stillness in the room pained him. He heard his mother busying herself in the kitchen. The clank of a kettle on the stove echoed down the hallway.

  Samuel drew a quick breath. “How are the animals?”

  “Excellent. Tomorrow I’ll ride to the western pastures and help drive the flock home.”

  “And your new man—Nicholas—will he work out?”

  “Yes, I believe so. He’s a strong worker and good with the animals. He and James work well together.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Samuel nodded as much as the pillow allowed. He seemed to gain a burst of strength. “I want you to hire men when you need them. You already manage the farm well and the flock has doubled under your care. You will no doubt see it prosper many times over. Never try to do it all yourself—hire men when you need them. And never let a needy man go without work. Our family has run this farm for six generations and we’ve never let a neighbor go hungry. Understand?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Be fair with the men you hire so they prosper too. Never use your position to mistreat people. Take care of your mother for me. She may live another thirty years, and she likes to keep busy. Let her work all she wants.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “And if something happens to Levi, you must take care of Mandy. I know John would take her in, but she’s your sister. Promise me you will make sure she is taken care of.”

  “I promise.”

  “Marry young so you can raise children while you still have the energy.”

  “I can’t promise you that.”

  “No, I reckon you can’t.” Samuel paused and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “It meant so much that Bethany came to see me this afternoon. She’s always been a special girl. She laughs when someone laughs and cries when he cries. Hannah had that same ability to commiserate. That’s where Bethany got her sensitivity—from her mother. She sees life as a gift and that makes her look for the possibilities in every situation. I know you are fond of her, son.”

  “I am.”

  “She won’t be available long now that she has reached the age that John lets his girls court. Speak to John. He will give you his blessing.”

  Everett nodded but said nothing. He wanted to tell his father that he had planned to court Bethany, but she said she wasn’t ready. She needed time and he loved her enough to give her whatever she needed. He wanted to tell his father all of it, but Samuel’s strength was already beginning to diminish. Samuel blinked several times, each time slower than the time before. At last his eyes remained closed. Everett leaned close and listened to his father’s chest. He was still alive, just lost again in the unconscious depths that recurrently swallowed him for unpredictable expanses of time.

  As Everett left home, his favorite dog hobbled to meet him in the yard. “Hello, old Shep.” The dog lumbered beside Everett as he walked across the yard to the road. He stooped to pat the dog’s head before leaving the property. Shep dropped his aged body to the ground as Everett walked away.

  The mile walk on the road that led into the village of Good Springs put a needed distance between Everett and the farm he was soon to inherit. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked along the gravel path and wondered if he had spoken to his father for the last time.

  As he got close to the Colburn property at the southern edge of the village, he saw Connor and Levi lighting torches staked in the ground in front of the main house. John stood at the back door passing chairs out to two of his sons-in-law, while Bethany’s eldest sisters arranged platters stacked high with food on a long table. One of Mandy’s music students, backlit by the setting sun, stood near the medical cottage tuning her violin. Lydia stepped out of the house holding her baby in one arm and guiding their elderly aunt with the other. Phoebe McIntosh was whispering in the ear of a man who stood near a freshly lit torch. Everett assumed he was the man that Bethany had mentioned was soon to propose to Phoebe. He noticed two other young women from Bethany’s class but no other men. Maybe John Colburn had already refused the competition, or maybe they had yet to arrive.

  Everett stepped off the path from the road and onto the lawn in front of the Colburn house. After Levi lit the last torch, he pinched the match head, extinguishing its flame, and lifted his chin acknowledging Everett.

  Everett removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together. “Need help with anything?”

  Levi shook his head. “We’re just waiting for Beth.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Still inside with Mandy.” Levi crossed his arms. “How’s Samuel?”

  “He was awake for a while this afternoon.” Everett glanced at the house then at Bethany’s family and friends moving about the yard. “Are you expecting anyone else tonight?”

  “I hope not.” Levi grinned.

  “Did anyone come to talk to John about her today?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you still going to speak to him tonight?”

  “I planned to, but yesterday she complained about boys wanting to ask her to court. She said she isn’t ready for it. I think she was just nervous about her birthday, but I’m going to let it pass before I say anything.” He noticed the crowd’s sudden stillness. Heads began to turn in the direction of the Colburn house. Bethany stepped across the threshold and into the yard. Everett’s senses instantly sharpened. He smelled the briny air that floated inland from the nearby ocean and heard the wind rustle through the gray leaf trees. His pulse thumped beneath his collar, but all he could see was Bethany. She smiled at the crowd. Dimples pitted her pink cheeks, and Everett took a step forward. Her friends thronged around her and admired her dress and her brown ringlets. He wished he could touch her hair and shoved his hands back into his pockets. She towered above the other girls, which made it easy for him to watch her face as she giggled with her friends. When he looked at her, everything changed for him. His troubled thoughts of work and family melted away. She glanced over her friends and met his gaze. When she smiled at him, the air changed and he wondered if she knew.

  Chapter Three

  Justin Mercer wiped the mirror with his towel. When it immediately steamed back over, he wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. As the steam escaped the bathroom, he looked back at himself in the clearing mirror. The telltale redness in his cheeks confirmed the drops on his face were sweat from the fever, not steam from the shower. His energy felt as depleted as the ship’s engines. He rarely got sick and loathed the feeling of oncoming illness.

  M
ercer leaned both palms on the edge of the sink and inspected his reflection. The fever’s grip distorted his perception, revealing a stranger—a feverish wayfarer with shaggy hair. He wanted to see the confident naval flight officer who—before the war—could leave a bar with any woman he wanted. He stared at the wings of the insignia tattooed on his chest. Becoming overwhelmed with the urge to look the part again, he reached for an electric clipper. Chunks of damp, black hair dropped into the sink with each pass of the clipper until all that remained was the buzz of a professional warrior.

  Mercer began to step out of the bathroom then stopped when his vision blurred. He gripped the wall. After several deep breaths, he moved slowly into his cabin. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a worn-out t-shirt, then a sudden chill prompted him to put on the hooded sweatshirt he had owned since college. He sat on the edge of his bed shivering for a moment, then lay back and closed his eyes. This strain of tuberculosis had already killed half the crew. Only he and Volt and three other crewmen were still alive. The icebreaker’s engines were down to limited power, leaving them adrift in the South Atlantic Ocean at the coordinates where Mercer’s parachute had carried him three years before. He propped himself on his elbows and looked out the open window at the endless blue of ocean and sky. He should accept the fact that the land he saw during his emergency parachute’s descent three years before simply did not exist, but the vivid memory would not fade. He had watched Lieutenant Connor Bradshaw’s parachute drift toward a pristine shoreline while he was being carried out to sea. Replaying the memory brought a surge of fresh energy and quickened his sluggish heartbeat.

  Mercer stood up and marched out of his cabin. He had come this far, and he was not going to die on the ship like the others. His hand grazed the laminate wall of the narrow corridor as he walked from his cabin to Volt’s. He halted in front of Volt’s door and lifted his hand to knock. When there was no answer, he let himself in the room.

  Volt was sitting up in bed, his thin legs buried under the blankets. He had bulky black headphones covering his ears, a computer keyboard on his lap, and several touchscreen devices strewn beside him on the bed. He nodded at Mercer and held up a finger then looked back at his computer screen. Faint sounds came from Volt’s headphones. His fingertips rapidly tapped the keys. Though he no longer had the strength to get out of bed, he was working tirelessly to restore the communications network he had once sabotaged.

  Mercer closed the door then picked up a side chair and set it near Volt’s bed. As he sat in the chair, Volt glanced at him and pointed at his hair then smiled. Mercer rubbed the top of his freshly buzzed head. Volt looked back at his screen as he typed with alacrity. His skin sagged from loss of hydration and his face bore the sallowness reserved for the terminal. He wheezed as he tapped a screen then removed his headphones. He slipped them down from his ears and let them wrap around the base of his whiskered neck. “It is working, mate. I’m starting to hear chatter out there. As soon as I can confirm these are Unified States allies on the network, I’ll send our coordinates.”

  “That’s great.” As Mercer said the words, he knew he should feel relieved, but instead he felt a sudden sense of panic. He was so close to that land. He glanced out the porthole behind Volt’s bed; that land was right here and he knew it. He could not stay and die on the ship waiting for a rescue. His chest tightened as his fingers tingled and his vision narrowed. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry, man, but I have to try.”

  “Try what, mate?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t stay here—onboard. I’m coming down with the fever and I can’t stay here and die. Not on this ship. I can’t do it. The others can help keep things going until the rescue arrives, but I have to go.”

  Volt lifted a palm. “Go where?”

  Mercer felt a headache coming on and his ears began to ring. “I’m taking a dinghy onto the water.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. The land is here. It’s close. I just know it. Tomorrow is the third anniversary of the date I saw it—the date I floated on that water. Bradshaw made it to that land and I missed out somehow. I’m sick now and I will die soon, but I’m going to die trying. I have to. I’m sorry, Volt. You have been the best friend I’ve had in years and I will never forget you.” Mercer stood and backed toward the door. He studied Volt’s face, believing it would be the last time he would ever see him.

  Volt nodded and pressed his lips together. “Justin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good luck, mate.”

  Mercer walked out of Volt’s cabin and left the door open so the other men could hear if Volt needed them. He staggered through the corridor, up a short flight of stairs, and onto the deck. The calm sea breeze cooled his face as he worked to untie the ropes that were holding an inflatable dinghy to the deck near the rail. He felt the thorny grip of the illness inside his chest. Knowing his volition could only empower his weakened body for so long, he forced himself to keep going. After checking that the outboard engine was secured to the transom plate, he lifted the dinghy over the railing and lowered it to the water below. He coughed as he held the line linking the dinghy to the ship. He climbed over the railing and down an escape ladder then sat on the narrow seat of the dinghy. The ringing in his ears amplified as he removed a latch from the forward bridle and released the boat from the ship. Gripping an oar in one hand, he reached the other hand around to the back of his empty waistband. It was foolish to leave the ship without his sidearm, but he was not going back now. He started the outboard motor and aimed the boat in the direction of the lowering sun.

  * * *

  Bethany steadied a tall stack of clay bowls beneath her chin as she carried them out of the kiln. She set the stack on a worktable in the pottery shed, then she spread the bowls across the table to allow them to cool. Untying her apron, she stepped to a sink in the corner of the shelter and began to scrub her dirt-caked hands. As she picked at the clay beneath her fingernails, Mrs. Vestal hobbled to her pottery wheel in the opposite corner of the shelter.

  “Are you done for the afternoon, Bethany?”

  “If that’s all right with you.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” Mrs. Vestal did not look up from her clay when she spoke.

  Bethany blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “See you tomorrow then.”

  After Mrs. Vestal grunted a reply, Bethany nodded and wiped her wet hands on her skirt. She walked out of the shelter, crossed the pottery yard, and opened the wooden gate. As she closed it, the latch pinched her finger. A short gasp reflexively escaped her throat and she shook the sting out of her hand. Once the pain subsided, she examined her finger while she walked along the cobblestone street toward her family’s home.

  As she passed the sandy path that led through the forest from the beach, someone on the path caught her eye. She looked away from her red finger and saw a stranger walking out of the gray leaf forest and into the village. The memory of once being attacked by a stranger flashed through her mind. Her heart began to race and she scanned the village for anyone who could protect her. When she looked back at the man, Bethany noticed his clothing and was reminded of what Connor wore when he first arrived in the Land. Her fear began to dissipate and astonishment took its place. His gray shirt had block letters on the front that read: NAVY and his short haircut resembled Connor’s old military style. He had to be from Connor’s nation.

  The man coughed and held a hand to his chest. His steps slowed to a near stagger as if he were ill or injured. Then his eyes met hers and surprise lit his face.

  Bethany took several cautious steps toward him. “Are you all right?”

  He stopped walking and his dark eyes widened. “You speak English!”

  “Who are you? Where did you come from?” Bethany glanced around her as she stepped closer. “You look ill. Do you need help?”

  He erected his posture and cast his gaze toward the buildings and houses in the village behind her. “What is this place?”

  Bethany looked too, and th
en turned back to the stranger. “This is the village of Good Springs.” She remembered what Connor had said about the Land being hidden from the outside world. “Oh, do you mean the Land?”

  “The Land?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. This place—we call it the Land.”

  After a short chuckle, he nodded. “That’s fitting.”

  She wondered if he had parachuted to the Land like Connor did. She looked at the trees behind him and did not see any equipment. “How did you get here?”

  The man coughed but did not answer her. She was almost certain he was one of Connor’s people. Her curiosity had never been piqued with such vigor. Connor was brilliant and courteous and strong and now another man like him had arrived, and Bethany found him first. She felt like she had stumbled upon a great treasure and stepped within arm’s reach of the man. “Are you from America? You sound just like Connor.”

  When she said Connor’s name, he drew a quick breath and grabbed her arm. His hand was warm. “Connor Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw? Is he here? Do you know him?”

  “Yes. Did you come here to find Connor?”

  “I knew he was here.” He took his hand off Bethany and ran his fingers over his short hair. A smile spread across his face. “I knew it. I just knew it.”

  His astonishment delighted her. “Connor is teaching at the school right now, but he should be finished soon. What’s your name?”

  “Mercer. Lieutenant Justin Mercer.”

  Her stomach tingled. “So you are a soldier?”

  “No. I’m a naval flight officer—well, I used to be.” He wiped the palm of his hand across his chest.

  “In an army?”

  “Navy.”

  “Oh, the Royal Navy?” she asked thinking of what Connor said about the old plane below the bluffs.

  “No, Unified States. Have you had contact with the Royal Navy?”

  “No.” Bethany was not sure how his people addressed one another. She angled her head. “What shall I call you?”