And Lucas’s face. That puzzled look on Lucas’s face.
Forty-Four
Maia’s head hangs shackled like dead weight from her bony frame. She reluctantly scrunches one eye open, and then the other, flinching from the intense glare of the sun. Lucas still sits hunched in front of her. Propped against the bins, he nods in and out of a daze.
His shoulders are burning.
They’ve been so diligent up until now in guarding against the sun, but their tarp—if it’s still attached—will be trailing behind them beneath the water. They sit half-submerged on the loose and torn netting, hanging between an open square of large containers that once floated beneath them. Two pieces of driftwood still remain, along with a few clusters of buoys, but the raft as a whole has been destroyed.
And Maia’s beloved rubber ducky is gone.
The bins that once propped their raft above the water are intact on three sides, but the fourth wall has torn from the middle and they’ve lost half its containers. Now, it will only be a matter of time before they lose the entire side. Their sunken floor of netting is the only thing keeping this whole thing together. Once that lets go, it will be the end for them.
The placid ocean sits peacefully around them. Lucas lifts his wobbling head and surveys the raft. When his eyes eventually meet hers, the devastated look across his face is unbearable. Maia looks away, fighting back tears. And so, they sit, neither one saying a word.
“Maia.”
She awakens to Lucas’s hand wrapping around hers. “Was it only a dream?” she asks, her voice cracking.
“We are still alive. That in itself is a miracle.”
Opening her eyes, her heart breaks all over again. It wasn’t a dream. “What now?” she finally asks.
“We have to get out of this water. I think we could try to maneuver the pieces of driftwood from the netting below and line them across our remaining three floating walls. We can tie them against the middle row, which will give us a wider ledge to rest on out of this water. We can drag the tarp back up as well—get out of this sun.”
“Will it last through another—”
“No … but it’s all we have.”
“Is there any way we can flip the raft back over?” Maia asks.
“I have thought about it, but it would be next to impossible to flip something this big in the water and with the ropes as torn as they are, it will only make them tear more. Not to mention we are losing that wall of bins there…” His voice trails off. “So, no,” he says quietly. “There is no way to flip this raft.”
She knows he’s right. She knew before asking, but she thought maybe it isn’t as hopeless as it appears. They could untie the netted floor from the bottom of the floating bins and secure it along the top, turning their battered square frame into a triangle. But the weave is layered and intricately tied through the top of the containers—for easy maintenance—which is now underwater. They complicated the hell out of it on purpose, to give it more stability. The amount of work to untie it would take days and a vast amount of energy. Energy they don’t have.
So, for now, their living space will dwindle down to the width of two logs of driftwood.
Maia chokes back tears.
“Maia, don’t you dare.”
“This is all my fault.” She buries her head in her pruning hands. “I was warned … over and over and over again. But I went anyway and then I took you down with me. Now look at us, Lucas! This raft is disintegrating—we’re disintegrating. We’re going to die out here … and it’s all my fault.”
“What happened to my girl? What happened to ‘there is always a way’? Don’t do this, Maia.”
She lifts her hand from the water and reaches for him as she quietly sobs. He gently kisses her palm before placing it against his sunken chest.
This beautiful human. She’s done nothing but bring him pain and destruction. How could she be so naïve? For so long she thought she would find life out here … she knew she’d find it. But she was wrong. And this world is destroying them.
“I’ve waited my entire life to meet you,” she says quietly. “I just can’t believe it’s already over.”
“It’s not over.” Lucas clutches at her hand. “Maia, look at me.”
She refuses, holding her head in her other hand.
“The currents are pushing us, every minute of every day. Just a little while longer—”
“And this will all be over,” she chokes in response. “Yes, I know.”
Lucas dives under first. He doesn’t stay submerged for long before coming up, gasping for air.
“What’s wrong?” Maia calls from the raft, straddling a row of containers.
“It’s just … this is harder than it used to be,” he yells breathlessly. He sucks in a deep breath of air and disappears beneath the glassy surface.
They spend the afternoon taking turns swimming beneath the upside-down raft, eventually separating the driftwood from within its weave and re-tying any swaying loose ends dangling along the bottom. Lucas climbs back over the barrels and they heave the large planks of driftwood against the middle row of bins. With one next to the other, they now have a small shelf to lie on above the water. The width of the raft was designed to be based on the length of these logs—they were the sturdiest part—so they sit perfectly supported by the wall of containers on either side.
When they are finished, Lucas and Maia huddle next to each other beneath a dripping-wet tarp.
“Maia?” Lucas bites his lip.
“Yes?”
“Last night…” He shakes his head. “No, forget about it … I must have been hallucinating.”
Last night. Memories of the storm come flooding back to her. The glimmering water, the electric stream of power coursing through her, the world warping around her as the mirror image of her … smiled.
“It’s just…” he begins again.
Her heart pounds. She looks up at him as she grips the driftwood with trembling hands.
“For a minute, you looked … different,” he says.
Her heart hammers beneath her chest. “Different?”
“Yeah … you did not look … you looked…” He’s stumbling on his words—something’s wrong. “Back on the ship, we had this … how do you say … this myth. Well, a haunting, actually.”
“A haunting.”
“Our ship was … haunted—by a siren.”
Maia’s mouth dries. “A siren.”
He looks out across the ocean. “I know it sounds crazy, but the men swore by it. Quite a few of them saw her; some dreamed of her. She was absolutely stunning, alarmingly so, with bright red curls and a white dress.” He looks directly at Maia. “And two different-colored eyes.”
“Did you … had you … seen her?” Panicked, the skin on Maia’s face begins to prickle.
“No. Although I thought I had … on the afternoon you escaped your room in the middle of the day. Obviously, I was confused, as your hair is not the same, no white dress … but I had no other way of explaining it. I just saw you for a brief second from the corner of my eye. But last night, during that storm in the flashes of light … I swear to God, you looked just like her. Your eyes and your hair, even the dress. Just for a moment, I thought she was sitting across from me.” His eyes search hers. “That’s crazy, yes? Tell me I’m crazy.”
“Yeah,” she says, forcing a smile. “You’re crazy.”
Now would be the time to tell him. Tell him what, though? She doesn’t even understand. Up until last night, she had completely convinced herself it was all an illusion, something she was a spectator of versus the possible origin.
But maybe she could talk about it … maybe she doesn’t have to hold it in the way she has her entire life. Lucas saw her. Her grandfather never saw her, even when strange things were happening right in front of his face.
But Lucas saw her.
“Lucas—”
He waits for her to continue. That face, those kind eyes … what she wouldn’t give
in this moment to protect him from any more harm. She would give her life.
“What is it, Maia?”
The words are right there. Just tell him he’s not crazy.
But then, he may never look at her the same way again. This beautiful man. This one person in the entire world she loves more than anything would know she was a monster. He called their siren alarming. It would change everything. No, telling him would only hurt him. He could never love her knowing the truth. She would lose him—she would lose everything—all over again.
A fate worse than death.
“Nothing.” She forces a smile, then softly kisses him beneath the protective shadow of the tarp.
He never has to know.
Days pass as Lucas and Maia float numbly on their tattered raft in the middle of the ocean. Their broken wall has finally lost its containers, so they now lie on a u-shaped line of bins connected by a half-torn, sagging net.
To protect herself from the heavy assault of the sun, Maia has ripped off the bottom of her shirt and has it wrapped around her head. She sits hunched over in a daze, squinting across the endless ocean. Her head is pounding and her mouth is dry as a bone. Lucas’s sunken belly rises and falls as he sleeps soundly next to her.
Her leg cramps again. She grimaces as she rubs the muscle. Eventually it relaxes and she lies onto her back, exhausted. Dizzy. Shivering cold despite the heat. “Lucas?”
His face slowly turns towards her but he does not open his eyes. His reddened cheekbones protrude above his beard, and his pale lips are cracked and peeling.
“Lucas? Are we going to die?” she whispers.
He peels one eye open and looks at her. His face is overcome with sadness, but he does not say a word.
“So thirsty…” Maia giggles as she flips her head from side to side. “So thir—Huck! Stop.” She giggles again, lifting her foot up and down, up and down. “Soooo thirsty.”
She opens and closes her mouth, clacking her tongue and grimacing from the taste. “Huck! Seriously? You’re really starting to annoy me.” She flips her head away as Huck playfully licks the bottom of her foot. “HUCK!” She kicks her leg down. Hard.
Intense, white-hot electricity sears up Maia’s leg. She sits up, screaming in agony.
So confused. Where—
Somehow, she has wandered away from the safe driftwood ledge next to Lucas and is now on top of a low-lying barrel. Agonizing pain pierces through her body and she thrashes back, lifting her leg from the water.
Scanning across the horizon, panic sets in.
A bloom.
They are surrounded by thousands of jellyfish, tightly stacking on top of each other as if they had swallowed up the sea.
Swollen red lines trace around her ankle and calf. Gasping for air, an otherworldly howl pours from her mouth. Her stomach cramps violently and she doubles over. Gasping, wheezing—clutching her throat. Clutching the nets. Writhing in pain.
Lucas jumps across the netting. His voice rolls across her in waves. “Maaaaaa—”
Muffled.
Blurry.
Spinning.
Forty-Five
A twig snaps from under Maia’s foot. As she treads carefully down the familiar wooded path, the dead leaves beneath her shatter like glass. Countless chirping birds dance across the swaying branches above, flooding the sky with their song. Closing her eyes, she inhales the scent of rich, wet earth.
The smell of heaven.
The smell of home.
Overwhelmed with relief, she feels almost weightless from the sudden absence of thirst. Cruel and relentless, it’s been a burden for months. Stretching her arms overhead, she gazes across the ancient pine and pōhutukawa trees. She knows this bush, this path in particular—she’s walked it a thousand times. Her fingertips brush along an overhanging branch of a fern. The dew drips like rain from its tendril.
Entering a large clearing, her breath hangs in brief clouds in the cool mountain air. With an outstretched hand, she steps forward, her tears overflowing with each unbelieving flutter of her eyes.
Their same two wooden chairs sit on the cabin’s old sagging porch, with a cup of steaming tea resting on the table between them. Smoke pours from the chimney. Maia’s mouth waters as the delectable smell of frying onions drifts across the yard.
A wheelbarrow full of chopped wood waits outside the cabin’s slightly ajar front door, ready to be taken in. That door—the door she had closed and locked and held her head against as she said her tearful goodbyes, waiting for Huck.
She looks around the yard. Is Huck here? No—but neither is the grave in the corner. There are no char marks on the tree. It all looks … untouched.
Maia watches in disbelief as her little black fantail lands on the cabin’s mossy wooden fence. It flips forward and back, fanning its black and white tail.
“Hello, old friend,” she whispers.
The bird stops and watches her with its head cocked to one side. A tūī swoops overhead. It dives below the tree line before disappearing down the path.
Behind her, the cabin’s front door slowly groans open. A creak sounds from the wooden porch. Maia freezes, her heart pounding. A puff of smoke wafts past, lingering on the wind. Her breath escapes in short bursts.
Can’t be.
She must be dreaming—but everything is all so real: the cool, damp earth beneath her feet; the intense, almost overwhelming sound of birds; the delicate warmth from the morning sun sieving through the trees. Another cloud of smoke drifts overhead and she inhales the nostalgic smell of pipe.
Slowly turning towards the cabin, her hand flies up to her mouth.
Maia’s grandfather stands on the porch, watching her through tear-soaked eyes. He’s regained his weight but his gentle, weathered face is still the same. He smiles with a quivering chin and a tear slowly tumbles down his cheek. “Hello … my darling,” his voice cracks.
She bursts forward.
Her grandfather rushes down the steps as she runs across the yard. Extending his arms, he grunts as Maia slams into him. Her mouth gapes but not a single sound escapes. Her tears soak into his shirt. With a deep gasp, she wails a deep and solemn cry.
“Oh, my sweet child.” Sobbing, her grandfather holds her head against his shaking chest. “My sweet, sweet child.”
“Grandpa, I thought you died! I burned your body…” She looks up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I know, child.”
“I never thought I’d see you again.” She buries her face into his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m right here, darling. I’ve never left you.”
She keeps her arms wrapped around his body, no longer frail but sturdy. Strong. The way it was for so long until the end. “Grandpa … please let me stay with you. Please? If even just for a night?”
“I wish you could,” he chokes. “More than anything.”
“Grandpa?” She looks up at him. “Where am I?”
His face saddened, he shakes his head. “Somewhere you are not meant to be,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“Child, this place is not meant for you.”
Her eyes cast down. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”
“Don’t give up, Maia. Fight!” His voice is suddenly quiet—far away.
“Grandpa?!” Panicked, Maia clutches at his fading shirt. “NO! Don’t leave me!” she screeches as her grandfather slowly disappears before her. “No, please! Please! I’ll do anything!”
“I am always with you.”
She throws herself upon him but falls to the ground. Pounding her fists into the earth, water splashes back at her. Startled, she opens her eyes to find herself lying atop a calm blue ocean, the familiar abandoned skyscrapers towering beneath her. A white dress flows across her clenched fists.
“Hello, Maia.” Her mother holds out her hand.
Maia stands, unsteady, and gazes across the large body of water surrounding them. The cool water laps the top of her feet
.
“Maia.”
Stunned, she turns towards her mother. “Am I … am I dead?”
Her mother smiles and tenderly brushes Maia’s cheek. Closing her eyes, she brings their foreheads together.
Maia gasps as her entire life flashes before her. She and Lucas huddled together on a raft made of garbage as an onslaught of waves crash on top of them. Shivering alone in the dark basement of a ship. Kneeling before her grandfather’s burning pyre as a fury of ashes fall around her. Tending tomatoes on a wobbling wooden stool, her grandfather observing from over her shoulder. Giggles floating down an ancient trail as she runs through the bush as a young girl.
“No, child.” Her mother touches their foreheads together again. “Remember.”
Maia’s eyes burst open, but her mother no longer stands before her. She sees herself as a child, giggling as dozens of birds land across her outstretched arms, her grandfather watching in shock from the front porch. As an adolescent, she sits cross-legged in the yard, mesmerized as the blades of grass bend and move under her hovering hand. Tripping over a tree trunk, a branch swipes across her chest to catch her. Flashes of shimmering energy coursing through her from the veins of the earth. Waking at dawn under a thick weave of branches protecting her from the previous night’s storm. Slamming her fists into the ground and the entire earth quaking in response.
Maia returns to herself, huddling in a quivering ball on top of the ocean. New lights shine forth from the city below and the tower’s beacons flash across the dark haze of the sea. Maia holds her breath, bracing herself for the floor to shatter, plunging her once again into the darkness.
“Come,” her mother says, still standing before her, but Maia doesn’t move. “Maia, why are you so afraid to acknowledge who you are?” Her mother reaches down and helps her to her feet.
The Weight of a Thousand Oceans Page 24
