Delphine pokes me and passes me her notepad, which I read before continuing. “Oh, Delphine says it’s not the ‘Great Floods’, it is actually the sea levels rising.” I notice Morris smile at her approvingly.
“You always were a clever wee lass, just like your parents. Yes, there’s no time for that mumbo jumbo here on the mainland. Make sure you always get straight to the point,” he says with a smile.
“You should just let them drown,” says Prue angrily. I’m startled by her outburst.
“Hush, woman,” says Morris. “There are good people left on the island. People like our new friend Christopher here, and his family.”
I notice Millie has taken her mother’s hand and is holding it tenderly. It’s a gesture in stark contrast to her tough exterior. Millie’s short brown hair and tanned face frame eyes that give away nothing. She exudes strength and grit.
Delphine passes me her notepad again. I say: “Delphine wants to know if we can leave tonight.” Tonight? I’d been hoping for a soft bed and some sleep. I look at her quizzically but she’s focused on her uncle.
“My darling Delphine, you don’t even need to ask. I’ve got horses you can use and our own Millie will show you the way, won’t you Millie?”
“It’s okay,” I blurt. “We can make it there without help.” Considering how unfriendly she’s been towards me, I don’t want to spend the next two weeks with Millie.
“Son, do you have any idea what New York is like? Do you understand the perils of the journey? My Millie here has made the trip many times by herself for supplies. She’s more resourceful, more capable, than most men you’d have the misfortune to cross paths with on the way.” He pauses and looks at Millie and she beams at her father’s compliment.
“And, no disrespect to you, son, but I wouldn’t let you take our dear Delphine to the city without Millie. You’ll need her.” Morris turns to Delphine. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay longer, sweetie? One night of rest and then on your way?”
Delphine shakes her head vigorously.
“Okay, let’s get you all sorted then,” he says good-naturedly.
Morris insists on showing us around before we set off. I look longingly at the beds and even more longingly at the barrels of wine and soft ripening cheese in his pantry. Morris must have seen my face because he carves off a hunk of cheese and hands it to me wordlessly. It tastes even better than I expected.
Finally, Morris takes us to his armory. His gun collection is impressive, and he loads Delphine and I up with extra ammunition. He also gives Delphine a knife which he instructs her to strap to her thigh and keep on her at all times.
“What gun do you shoot?” I ask Millie. She smiles at me and pulls an impressive-looking contraption from behind the gun cupboard. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“It’s a crossbow,” she says. “I always carry a handgun but this is my weapon of choice.”
“Does it shoot arrows?” I ask, edging closer to the crossbow and appraising it.
“We call them quarrels, not arrows,” she replies, proudly turning the weapon over in her hands.
Prue becomes tearful as we prepare to say goodbye. This time she hugs me and whispers in my ear: “You take good care of my girls.” I nod, somehow doubting Millie needs anyone to take care of her. Prue and Morris wrap up food and extra clothes for us all and then Morris brings three horses from the stables, which are saddled and ready to go.
Like the dogs, all three horses are black as night. We have several hundred horses on the island and most children learn to ride young. Our island horses are lame hacks compared to these three. Their muscular bodies ripple and their glossy coats shine. I rub my hand over the nose and neck of the horse Morris leads to me. I lean in close, cheek against flank, and breathe in the familiar, comforting smell.
“Hello you,” I say, looking into the horse’s eye. He looks back unblinkingly. They call my horse Lucky, which I hope is a good omen for the journey ahead.
It’s dusk as we saddle up and finally say goodbye. I’m bone-weary but it makes sense to start straight away. We’ve got two weeks to get back to the beach to meet Rich. The ride to New York City will take five days each way, three if we ride through the night and only stop for a few hours to sleep.
The thought of the long, arduous journey before us is daunting. I take a deep breath to fortify myself and hold Lucky’s reigns a little tighter as we ride out through the gate and into the rapidly encroaching night.
As we ride, heavy rain begins to fall. The wind whips the deluge across my face and I put on my waterproof coat, pulling it tight around my neck. The weather this time of year is often unpredictable; torrential rains, massive hailstones the size of my fist, and even hurricanes are not uncommon. I pray that this storm passes quickly. The others wrap themselves against the wet, blustery conditions.
Reaching into my coat, I touch the gold that Morris gave us to buy what we need from the library. He wanted me to hold it. I suspect it was so the women had nothing a thief might want.
Mercifully, the rain stops as we continue onward towards New York City. We don’t talk much. The landscape is moonlit as we wind through forest and grassland in single file, Millie leading the way. I am last and try to keep an eye out for anyone following us. But at one point, I’m sure I fall asleep in my saddle. The feeling of falling wakes me up. I sit bolt upright, suddenly alert and aware of the surrounding noises. We are in the middle of a dense patch of woodland and there is a sound like a dog howling. The noise is frightening and I kick my heels into Lucky’s side to catch up to the others.
“Wolves,” calls Millie over her shoulder. “Stay close. We won’t stop for a few more hours yet. Not until we are out of the woods. There have also been sightings of...” she turns away from me and her words trail off.
We finally make it out of the forest and come to a group of boulders against a rocky cliff face. We tether the horses away from the track and stretch out on the hard ground.
“Can we light a fire to dry our clothes?” I ask. I’m still sodden from the storm.
“It’s too dangerous here,” replies Millie. “We don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”
Delphine looks exhausted and I give her my rucksack to rest her head on. She rolls over and is asleep in an instant. Millie tells me to sleep and that she will wake me in a few hours to take over guard duty. She doesn’t have to tell me twice and I’m asleep before my eyes close.
The next thing I know, Millie is shaking me awake. It’s still dark and I shrug off sleep wearily. Millie takes my place next to Delphine and I take a seat facing the expansive grasslands, contemplating the fact I’m on the mainland. I may die and see no one on the island again. The thought makes me feel sad and reckless at the same time.
I have no way of telling how much time has passed but I sense a new day about to break. There is stillness in the air and a subtle brightness that wasn’t there before. It’s like the night is holding its breath, waiting until the last moment before it exhales and the sun takes its place. I wake the other two and we set out again with the dark still lingering.
The next two days pass uneventfully. We glimpse isolated cabins, and smoke from a fire, but we steer clear of all people, taking a route that avoids the main trails and keeps us largely out of sight. Sometimes it seems like time has stood still and I am bored and filled with pent-up frustration. Other times I stare at the back of Delphine’s head and fantasize about running my hands through her hair and kissing her. We ration our food carefully and mostly I’m just hungry.
On the third day I can tell we are getting closer to more populated areas. Millie is being much more cautious now and her nervousness is contagious. We are all on high alert.
“If anyone asks, we are seeking buyers for my father’s wine,” Millie says. “We have nothing to trade, we have nothing valuable and we are not looking for the library. Understand? And Delphine, tie your hair back and put on a cap! Do you want to attract trouble?” It’s the first
time I’ve heard Millie speak sharply to Delphine, and it surprises me. Delphine does as Millie instructs.
Several groups pass us. Some are on horseback like us. Others are on foot. Millie has told us not to meet anyone’s eye, but it’s hard not to look when we pass people. Everyone appears harder, dirtier and more desperate than those on the island. Many of the people have skin tattoos and markings on their clothes.
“Do the tattoos mean anything?” I ask Millie.
“Yes, they indicate various gang affiliations,” she replies. I’m fascinated and want to know more but Millie seems reluctant to elaborate. I don’t push it.
On the third night we make camp in grassland only about two hundred chains from the edge of New York City. There is a renewed sense of excitement in our small group. We are almost there. Delphine passes me her notepad and I read it by the light of the full moon before passing it to Millie.
What is the plan tomorrow?
“We go by foot tomorrow,” says Millie. “I have a contact close by and we will leave the horses with him, they’ll be safe there until we get what Delphine needs from the library.”
“We can’t take the horses?” I ask.
“They’re too valuable. It will put us at unnecessary risk.”
How long will it take us to walk to the library?
“We should get there by mid-morning tomorrow. We must get in and out of the library quickly so we can be out of the city by nightfall. I’ve heard rumors that Yanx’s gang is moving through New York. We need to avoid them at all costs.”
“Yanx?” I ask.
“One of the most notorious gang leaders on the mainland,” Millie replies grimly. “Trust me, you do not want to be anywhere near them or their sick army of twisted freaks. Now, you two sit tight. I won’t be long.” She takes all three horses and leads them into the night. I watch as the three shiny black rumps disappear into the distance.
“Bye, Lucky,” I whisper softly. Delphine looks at me inquisitively and I smile at her.
For the first time since our jaunt in the dinghy, we are alone. I have been thinking about this moment for days. I slide closer to her and slip my arm over her shoulder. Our backs are against a large tree and there is waist-high heather all around us. We have a moment of privacy.
“Are you cold?” She shakes her head but wriggles closer. I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips gently. This makes her giggle which I take as a good sign. I turn her face to mine and graze her lips with my own. There is hesitation on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
We have to stay focused. It’s not the right time, Chris.
I’m about to utter a protest when something hard presses against my ear. I freeze. I recognize the cold barrel of a shotgun.
“All right then, hand over all your valuables and no one gets hurt,” says the voice behind me. Delphine has felt me stiffen, and she leans forward and gasps when she sees the man behind me. He’s crept up behind us and come around the side of the big tree. I’m suddenly furious. I hate this godforsaken place.
“We have nothing,” I say, gritting my teeth. My hand instinctively goes to the pouch of gold in my pocket. The man moves in front of us. In the dim lighting I can make out a swirling tattoo over his scalp, which has been shaved down to the skin.
The man wastes no time and hauls Delphine to her feet. He runs his free hand up and down her body looking for valuables. The other hand has the gun trained on me. She has nothing on her so he rummages through our packs. He finds my knife and pockets it. Delphine reaches for her own knife and I catch her eye and shake my head.
“Your turn,” he says to me. I’m yanked to my feet and this time he has the gun trained on Delphine. He frisks me and quickly locates the gold. He whistles when he empties the pouch into his hand. Anger flashes over Delphine’s face.
“Let him go Delphine. It’s not worth it,” I say to her.
She ignores me and pulls out her knife, holding it towards the intruder. She edges closer.
“Delphine! Don’t do it,” I plead.
The man still has his gun on Delphine and I lunge towards him, hoping to knock him to the ground. He sees me and swings his arm, connecting the barrel of the gun to the side of my head. I fall heavily to the ground, dazed. He turns the gun back to Delphine.
“You going to stop me, gorgeous?” He asks, grinning dangerously. His finger teases the trigger.
From the darkness, an unexpected voice answers him: “No, but I might. Don’t move.” I look up to see Millie, her face knotted in fierce determination. She’s kneeling in the heather, her weapon drawn and ready to shoot.
“You!” the man exclaims.
Millie has her crossbow trained on him. He thinks a minute before replying, his gun still pointed at Delphine’s head.
“We both know my bullet will reach her a lot faster than your arrow will reach me. Let’s both back away slowly and our business will be done here.”
Millie pauses, and she seems to be calculating the respective distances and speeds in her head. She swears. She knows he is right.
The man grins. “Goodbye my friends. Until we meet again.” He winks at me before melting into the night.
Millie rushes over to Delphine and I stagger to my feet. I am embarrassed and sick that the gold is gone. Our plan is ruined and it’s futile to go on. Delphine is crying, and this makes it worse.
“Millie, I’m so sorry,” I say.
She waves me off with her hand and pulls Delphine in close. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. Delphine, it’s okay. We can still get to the library and we will think of a plan to get what you need. They probably wouldn’t have let us trade, anyway. We have no connections. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Her voice is comforting but I can see the lie on her face. Our situation is hopeless. We failed.
In a meager attempt to console Delphine, we talk strategy for a while before deciding to rest. I tell them I’ll take first watch. I don’t sleep at all and instead lie and stare at the stars, listening for intruders. Millie nods off at one point but Delphine is also awake. We both pretend that she is asleep and eventually her breathing becomes slow and regular. I wait alone for the day to come.
Chapter Five
We eat the last of our bread—which is now hard and dry, in the dwindling darkness and start to walk towards New York City. I am melancholy and sore. I need more rest and I’m surprised that Millie is indulging Delphine and continuing to the library. I was certain we would return to the winery today. Millie seems to share my sour mood. She refuses to meet my eye.
The new day arrives, announced by a chorus of loud squawking birds whose cries cut through the cool air. I look around and realize we’ve been sleeping among the bones of an old city. The ground is full of unnaturally straight lines and sharp edges overgrown with knotweed. There are crumbling stone walls jutting out precariously from the earth with plant life crawling up and over, reclaiming the space. The light filters softly through the towering trees. The ruins cast long, unnaturally straight shadows that cut through the tangled forest.
Walking through this graveyard of a long-destroyed metropolis I can almost imagine the city that existed before the Great Floods. The elders told us of the greed and single-minded suicide march that destroyed our forebears. They described the sprawling, heaving cities of long ago, which were places where people were pressed tightly together but had no neighbors. They were places where morality no longer mattered. They did something terrible, our ancestors, that bought the Gods’ wrath upon them.
“Delphine,” I say quietly to her. “You say the ice melted because of rising temperatures. Why do you suppose the temperatures rose, if it wasn’t a divine punishment?”
Delphine continues to walk next to me. She seems to consider my question. Finally she stops and pulls out her notebook.
My parents and I used to discuss this. My mother believed our ancestors did many terrible things to the planet. She believed they did things that pushed the entire system off kilter. I d
on’t know what exactly caused the temperature to rise, and the resulting extreme climatic disasters. The fires, droughts and ice melts are all part of what happened, but I don’t expect it was a natural phenomenon. Humans made this happen. The book I showed you mentions emissions of gas and feedback loops in the Earth itself, which hastened the downward spiral, but I don’t truly understand.
I read her note twice. Then I say to her: “So, we caused this to happen. We did something that made the temperature rise and the ice to melt, which caused the floods and the other disasters.”
Delphine nods her agreement.
“So how is your theory so different to the flood story that the elders believe?”
It’s different because I don’t accept that the Gods made this happen as a punishment. What happened was simply cause and effect. We did something to the planet. We changed things. Then we suffered the consequences.
“Come on you two,” calls Millie impatiently. She’s stopped a little way down the track that winds its way through the tangled understory of ferns and creepers.
“We’d better hurry,” I say to Delphine. She puts away her notepad and we catch up to Millie.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Millie.
She waves her hand dismissively. I try not to take her prickly demeanor personally as we continue walking towards New York City through the overgrown and crumbling remnants of the past.
Then, from up ahead, the roar of rapidly moving water interrupts my thoughts. “What’s that noise?” I ask Millie.
“It’s the river,” she replies.
“I want to get a closer look. One moment,” I say to the others, ignoring the irritated expression on Millie’s face.
I walk up a small rise and then hoist myself carefully into a large oak, slippery and wet with moss, to get a better view. From my vantage point, in the dim dawn light, I see a wild, rumbling river that runs from my right all the way towards the ocean. A smaller river flows from the main river and cuts across our intended path, directly between New York City and us.
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