by David Holley
Noah starts to rise but is stopped by Evelyn. “Wait!” she says, grasping his arm.
“I’m just going to ask her a few questions,” Noah assures.
“Let me do it. She’s obviously distraught. She might be more willing to talk to me.”
“Alright,” Noah relents. “I’ll go find the boy. But you should know something before you talk to her,” he says quietly.
“Yes, what is it?”
Noah stands and walks away from the group as Evelyn follows. He turns to her and whispers: “Max seems to think that Mia knew the crash was going to happen before it happened.”
“What?” her voice is louder than she had intended.
“She didn’t exactly admit to it just now, but she did acknowledge having some sort of idea that it was happening. Whatever it is, something doesn’t add up, Eve.”
Her eyes wander as she tries to understand. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find out.”
They break off, Noah darting toward the crashing tide and Evelyn heading straight for Mia, who is sobbing with her head buried in her hands.
“Mia?” Evelyn comes closer, bending slowly until she is next her. “Are you okay?”
Mia sniffles and breathes heavily, trying to recover. “No. I’m not okay.”
Evelyn nods slowly and then sits more comfortably on the soft cool sand. She buries her hands deep, gathering up handfuls of the white grains and letting them pour out from between her fingers until all of the silicon has been relinquished. She does it again, over and over as she sits patiently, waiting for Mia to break the silence whenever she chooses to do so.
“It’s been an extraordinarily bad day,” Mia says, taking long slow breaths through her nose and exhaling through pursed lips.
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Max thinks our parents are still alive… but I have this horrible feeling that they are not.” Mia’s voice cracks and she dries her eyes with the sleeve of her black hoodie.
“Do you often rely on your senses?”
The question catches Mia off guard. “Wuh… what do you mean?”
Evelyn smiles. “As a woman, I have occasionally relied on my intuition to shape my thoughts, that’s all I meant by it.”
Mia looks relieved. “Oh right… intuition, um, yeah, I just have this intuition I guess.” She shrugs and looks to the ocean disinterestedly.
Evelyn changes the subject. “You’re American, aren’t you? I’m sorry to say I don’t come across too many Yanks these days. I’m still heartbroken over what happened to your nation.”
“Thank you. Yes... that was the worst day of my life… well, until now,” she says.
“Did you live in the States?”
“Yes, we lived in Pittsford, New York. But we were staying with our grandparents in London when the eruption happened.”
That day, Evelyn thinks, oh how I remember that harrowing day. It was the day after Christmas 2018, yet another holiday without her husband. He’d already been away at war for two years and there was no end in sight. Evelyn had just finished having tea with her sister Grace and her mother, who turned seventy-two that day. Their celebration was ruined the moment they heard the news of a super volcanic eruption in the Pacific Northwest of the United States of America. They watched in horror from a world away as their sister nation burned to the ground. Within days, the largest volcanic eruption in human history buried most of North America in a sea of ash. With the fallout came the poisoning of the waterways and the clogging of their infrastructure, sending America and its neighbors into chaos and ruin. Mass evacuation eventually came but the efforts fell woefully short, and for most, it was already too late. In just a matter of months, one of the greatest societies of modern civilization was thrown into the dark ages, sending waves of desolation and cooling temperatures around the globe. All told, the eruption and its aftermath claimed over 200 million human lives, while millions of others were left to fend for themselves in the wasteland that remained. This was the worst insult in the years-long onslaught of bad news. With the death of America, the burden of the war fell on the shoulders of England and what remained of the United Front. The eruption ensured that her husband would be indefinitely entrenched in the war and even farther away from home.
To this day, I am convinced the destruction of North America signaled the tipping point for the calamities that have happened since. It was during that terrible time that I also realized how truly alone I was and the horrible feeling — that the end is near.
“Evelyn?” Mia probes, getting no response. “Evelyn?”
Evelyn finally snaps out of it. “Yes dear... I’m so sorry. I was just thinking about that day…. What a horrible day that was.”
Mia nods. “You will get no argument from me. We lost everything: our home, our friends and family, my horse, Bottlerocket. God, I loved that damn horse.”
Mia’s tears begin to fall again. They sit in silence for a long while, reflecting on the personal losses they have endured in the years since.
“Nihilo sanctum estne?” Startled, they realize they have uttered the words in unison.
“Did you just say, nihilo sanctum estne?” Evelyn asks in utter astonishment.
“I… did,” Mia admits. Choosing her words carefully, she continues, “I have been saying that phrase for as long as I can remember.”
“As have I,” Evelyn replies slowly. “How odd... how very, very odd.”
*************
Noah walks toward the ocean and looks to the right and then to the left, where he spots Max walking along the shore. He walks quickly and with purpose, his silhouette glowing in the moonlight, his figure alien. Noah sets off after him, jogging at a brisk pace, and as he nears, he calls out, “Max!” The young man stops and looks behind him. “Where are you heading?” Noah asks, slowing his pace to a casual walk.
“Nowhere,” says Max. “I just need to clear my head.”
“I understand. But we need to stick together for when our rescue comes, okay?”
“Yeah, I know. I just… I don’t know.” Max turns and faces the ocean. He bends to the sand and grabs some broken pieces of shell that have washed upon the shore. He sorts them in his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, starts skipping them over the surface of the ocean.
“What’s taking so long, anyway?”
“The rescue? That’s a good question. I don’t have the answer to that.”
“So you don’t know everything?” Max asks sarcastically.
This draws a rolling laugh from Noah. “Guilty your honor.” He bows his head slightly, tongue firmly in cheek.
“That’s too bad….” Max’s tone shifts to a more serious pitch. “Then I guess you won’t know the answer to my next question.”
Noah knows the question but asks anyway. “And what would that be?”
“Do you think the passengers in Section One made it, as we did?”
Noah nods. “Yeah, it’s certainly possible that they did. It could also be why our rescue has been delayed.”
Max’s expression immediately brightens. “Yeah… that’s a good point! If the rescue team found them first it could explain why we’re still waiting.” He looks to Noah for reassurance.
“Indeed,” he concurs, feeling disingenuous. But he sees no reason to not give Max hope. The dead air marshal, the sabotaging of the shuttle, the lack of rescue — all of it supports his suspicions about the crash. “Not to pry, but is that what the blowup between you and your sister was about?”
Max stands in silence for a moment before answering. “Yeah, more or less. Our parents were seated in the other section and I want to believe they’re okay, but Mia thinks otherwise.”
“I see... so you’re frustrated with her because she doesn’t share your outlook?”
Max sighs and shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not why. We never share the same opinion… I’ve grown used to that. What I can’t seem to accept is that she’s always right.” His voice sounds defeated.
Noah, sensing the ha
rd truth behind Max’s remark, gives him an empathetic nod. They talk at length and eventually head back to the campsite. Mia is sitting where Noah was stationed earlier, and when she sees the two of them, she runs to Max at full speed. They come together in a heartfelt hug filled with tears and apologies, and Noah leaves them to it, as he continues toward the campfire. He doesn’t see Evelyn with the others, but when he peeks inside the tent he finds her taking Jeremy’s temperature.
“Well?”
Evelyn looks at the reading on the ear thermometer and concludes, “So far, so good.” Turning the digital display of the thermometer, Noah sees that it reads thirty-seven degrees.
“That is good news, but I was referring to the girl. Did you learn anything?”
“Oh, that.” She gives an exaggerated shrug. “I’m at my wits end with that one. Clearly there’s something more to her, but what it is I haven’t the foggiest. What about you? Did you find out anything from Max?”
“Only that Mia seems to have a knack for being right all the time.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, they ended up in London instead of Lake Tahoe when the supervolcano erupted because of her.”
“Wait. Rewind. Tell me exactly what Max told you.”
He sticks his head outside of the tent and spots the twins. They have joined the rest, tightly grouped around the fire, huddling for warmth. A few lie in prone positions trying to sleep, but most just sit in silence and wait. Noah crawls inside the tent and sits closer to Evelyn facing her. “Okay, so when I talked to Max, he was upset because Mia felt that their parents had died in the crash,” he whispers. “Not because they had differing opinions on the matter but because she felt that way; and Max, for as long as he can remember, knows that when Mia says things like that, she is always right. Always,” he repeats for emphasis.
“Fascinating, go on.”
“So I asked him, what else has she been right about? And he went silent. Eventually, I got him to tell me about the time they were supposed to go to California for their annual ski trip, but Mia had demanded that they go elsewhere and convinced them to visit their grandparents in London. Three days later....”
“The volcano erupted,” Evelyn finishes.
“You knew about that?” he asks, surprised.
“Yes, we talked about that. But she left out that they were supposed to be in the States and that going to London was her idea. I just took it as mere coincidence…. Speaking of, do you know what she said during our conversation?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Nihilo sanctum estne?” she says, exasperated, her eyes big and circular.
Noah shoots her a puzzled look. “Really? How odd.”
“That’s what I said!” Evelyn tries to contain her excitement. “There is something about her, Noah. I can’t put my finger on it just yet, but I am certain of it.”
Noah allows the moment to settle, and a large sheepish grin starts to take form. “Well, I do have a theory about that.”
“Of course you do,” Evelyn responds sarcastically. “Well, let me have it, captain.”
“I think Mia may be a clairvoyant,” he says matter-of-factly, his grin has now twisted into a wicked smile.
“Oh bollocks,” Evelyn dismisses, rolling her eyes.
“How else would you explain it?” Noah pleads.
This elicits no immediate response from Evelyn, as she ponders. “I’m not sure, but I am going to get to the bottom of this, I assure you.” She crawls past him to exit the tent.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I need to get some air… it’s far too hot in here,” she declares, leaving Noah to chuckle to himself.
Chapter 8
The cool chill of night has given way to an abundance of heat radiating from the early morning sun. As a new day rises on the crescent shaped beach, the plight of the survivors remains unchanged. In their haste to find land, they couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate location. The narrow stretch of beach spans roughly three kilometers across, bookended by sheer walls of jagged rock. To complicate matters further, the shallow but dense forest behind them offers no source of fresh water and comes to a dead end at the base of a massive grey peak.
Noah has kept himself busy, working through the night to create numerous freshwater traps. He has collected two full canteens of water, in addition to a few plastic bottles he has found, but he knows it’s not nearly enough for everyone. His only option will be to ascend the steep mountain that walls off their beach to find a source of fresh water. In the meantime, he has taken to gathering what’s left of the life rafts and chopping down long stalks of bamboo. During the wee hours of the morning, Hiroshi had offered his assistance, and together they made plans to construct a shelter large enough for the entire group.
The others have grown restless. No longer needing to huddle for warmth, they have wandered about, some searching for food, others staring out to sea like zombies in hopes of sighting their rescue. The highlight of the morning comes when Alice stumbles across a stow of luggage washed up on the shore. While the unexpected bounty is appreciated by most, one person in particular finds it devastating. One of the found suitcases had belonged to Margaret Fulmer, Patrick’s wife. Their excitement is short lived, as Patrick’s reaction to his wife’s red leather suitcase reminds them that the rightful owners of the luggage have most likely died. Evelyn tactfully takes the heartbroken man aside and orders those within earshot to take the luggage to the campsite. She assures him that his wife’s belongings will not be ransacked and that she personally will go through the remaining bags to salvage only what can be helpful for the others. Patrick, while saddened, is rational and easily amenable to Evelyn’s suggestion and even offers to volunteer with the scavenging duties, which she is happy to indulge.
Luna Saito has also been keeping busy by collecting a substantial amount of flax leaves and other medicinal plants found during a brief survey of her surroundings. She intends to use the sap from the flax as an antiseptic to treat Jeremy’s leg, as well as several other wounds sustained during the crash. Upon entering the campsite, she is relieved to see Hiroshi working with Noah. She knows her husband needs to occupy himself, and it appears he is doing whatever he can to make that happen. When Noah sees her, he calls out, “Is that flax you’re carrying?”
“Yes, it is,” Luna responds, lowering to the ground a makeshift gunnysack that she improvised from a piece of the raft.
“Outstanding! Will you need all of it?”
She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the top of her right thumb. “No, I just need a few leaves. I figured I would grab as much as I could hold since we can use it for so many purposes.”
He kneels down to inspect the long sword-like leaves. “You just saved me a trip. Thank you.”
Luna bows her head in acknowledgment, but her eyes are set on her husband splitting a long rod of bamboo in half. She gestures toward Hiroshi. “My husband, how is he?” Her voice brims with concern.
Noah shrugs his shoulders. “As well as can be expected. He seems to want to be busy and I certainly could use his help.”
“Good. That’s good.” She places her hand on Noah’s arm and pulls herself closer to him. “He is terribly distraught, not only because of the loss of our daughter, but also by what happened afterward, when we were in the lifeboat,” she quietly confesses. We feel shame that our grief may have caused others to lose their lives.” She stops and wipes a few tears that have begun to fall.
“Luna,” Noah says, shaking his head. “Luna, please, no shame is warranted. I can’t imagine what you and Hiroshi must have been going through at that moment. No one, and I mean no one, holds you responsible for what happened out there. All that matters now is doing what we can to get through this. And we can only do that by working together.”
“You are very kind Noah, thank you.” She lets go of his arm. “Do you and Evelyn have any children?”
“No, not yet, but now that I
am retired from the army, that might be in order.”
“You should; you are a good man, Noah. I think you would be doing the world a great service, if you ever do.”
The statement strikes Noah as strange, but he thanks Luna graciously. He grabs an armful of the flax leaves and walks them over to Hiroshi, who will split their husks and weave them into a rope to fasten the bamboo stalks. In what seems like a short time, Noah and Hiroshi have erected the base of what will be a functional shelter. They design the roof to have a forty-five degree arch and line it with a large section of the rubber raft. By constructing a simple gutter using bamboo, the shelter will collect water from rain or dew. Their efforts are bolstered when Jacob and Sarah offer to help, and soon, several others join in as well.
In some respects, the combined efforts are an exercise in futility, but the activity provides a much needed diversion; there are even moments of laughter when Max whistles the tune made famous by the movie The Bridge on the River Kwai.
The good mood is cut short when Josette returns from a long and aimless walk. She is a petite French woman in her mid-forties dressed in a loose-fitting grey chiffon pantsuit. Her blouse is sleeveless with a scoop neckline that reveals a chest full of freckles and she drags her jacket listlessly across the sand. Her face is beet red, and she has obviously been crying for hours on end. She stops to take in the scene before erupting: “How dare you all act like this is some fucking summer camp! What is wrong with you people?”
Evelyn tries to diffuse the situation. “No one is being insensitive; we are all just trying to get through this together.”
“Together? That’s a load of bullshit coming from you! I have lost everything! What have you lost?”
Patrick, helping to sort through the luggage, is quick to come to Evelyn’s defense. “Josette, that’s not fair. Noah and Evelyn are doing everything they can to help.”
“Oh really, Patrick? And what has the brave captain done to help us, huh? Other than give us a false sense of hope. The last time I checked, we’re still on this miserable fucking island!” she hisses, turning to Noah with eyes full of venom. “So where are they, captain? Where’s the fucking rescue you promised?”
