If that were the case, where was he now? Where was he when she was in captivity? Maybe that was the problem: he didn’t want her anymore
She looked down at where her hand was supposed to be. “He’s a smart guy,” she replied sharply. “When he wants something, he gets it and if he wanted me, he would be here already.” Saying the words was like having her hand cut off, painful, yet complete in its segregation. “Besides,” she continued, “he wasn’t the one who got me out of that hole. I got myself out. I don’t need him anymore.”
CorMand, the kingdom of kingdoms, with its innovation and elevation was always an irresistible lure for young, ambitious Eli Jackson. Like a lion among alley cats, he paced and plotted to leave his humble beginnings and join a superior pride. Meanwhile Mevia skittered between alleys, and rummaged beneath the welcoming shadows of the underground. Eli wanted the tower, a castle fit for a king. She ruled the tunnel-trains, the underworld’s feral queen.
It started off as an innocent child’s game of “When I grow up…” Then as adolescents it loomed into a deadline hanging over her head. When it was time, Eli would leave and she would stay behind where she belonged. Neither had said so out loud, but they were both aware. Eli even had the nerve to try and mitigate his break up by suggesting she come along. They both knew that wasn’t the plan. He needed to be with some hot-shot Corporate princess—the kind of girl who flaunted pretty dresses, manicured nails and would pose nicely on his arm at CorMand events. Not a Mevia with her fleather jackets, paint crusted hangnails and open animosity. No, sadly the two of them were destined for doom. Only, after she had met Kilt did she finally stop feeling like the one getting left behind.
Throughout her life she had painted. She protested. She was arrested. But none of it really mattered. She wasn’t doing anything. Then that all changed when she met Kilt. When Kilt approached her about helping him burn the drug factory, she knew she had found her purpose. At first she was cautious about his intentions. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she had said. Then he assured her they would go at night when there was minimal staff. “When the fires start, they’ll have plenty of time to make it out,” he said. “They’ll leave, thinking the sprinkler system is working, however little will they know that we’ve deactivated it. The plan is fool proof.” After that she made it her sole purpose. She was going to achieve what her mother couldn’t. Mevia was going to change things.
“Good to see you James,” said Kurt, popping a pinch of greasy pig skin in his mouth.
He only nodded.
“How’s the boat?”
“Fine,” said James softly. “Fine, but I’ve been up on watch all day.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Um, we need to have a discussion tonight at dinner. I have something I need to tell everyone.”
Dila looked worried. “Ok. We’ll be eating here shortly. Kurt, how much longer you think?”
“Just a liiiiittle bit more. She’s almost there.” He poked the hide.
“Good,” said James. He walked away and sat down around the already burning campfire, his posture slouched, the sun reflecting off his brown neck.
“What’s with him?” Dila nudged Mevia.
She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the boat.” But even as she said it, her stomach tightened. If it was the boat, he wouldn’t need to be making an announcement.
***
The tribe members took their time gathering around the campfire. They shuffled along, plates in hand speaking somberly. Lin’s face was gathered in a stiff scowl. Mevia heard Thomas tell Sandra that they lost their net while wade fishing due to a large school of fish dragging it away. “After that the current had it.”
Everyone sat and began eating quietly, thinking, most likely, of all the fish that net would cost them. Mevia stole glances at James, who sat quietly, his meal untouched.
Finally he set his plate down and stood up, clearing his throat. “During my watch, I spotted smoke coming from the jungle.” His eyebrows were pushed together, his hands perched on his bony hips. “I’ve never seen it that close before.”
No one spoke for a minute, some continued eating, not greatly affected by the sighting, but for Mevia, it was as if she had witnessed flaming horseman in the sky. The end was upon their doorstep.
Thomas spoke. “How close?”
“About five miles northwest of here. Three miles from the Poacher’s domain.”
There was shuffling and murmuring about.
“What does this mean?” asked Telly.
“It means,” James said slowly, “that they’re coming. The Poachers are hunting us and they’re getting closer than they ever have before.”
Like a booming clap of thunder, his words struck the tribe and they exploded into panicked chatter. Mevia dropped her bowl in the dirt, her entire body shaking.
Some were speaking, loudly trying to talk over one another, and some remained silent clutching their hand over their mouths, but everyone was scared. It wasn’t until Sandra stood and raised her hands did everyone finally settle.
“We need to remain calm. Let’s have a reasonable discussion and not give into fear and chaos.” She looked around the circle. “James, what do you suppose they want?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Revenge. Women. We took their girl. And of course they know Mevia had a hand in it.”
All eyes turned to her. Mevia looked down at her discarded dinner now powdered white from the sand. She fought to keep what little she had eaten down in her stomach.
“Damn,” cursed Cree.
“What are we going to do?” asked Henny.
More talk bubbled. This time it was Mevia who silenced it.
“We run,” she announced, sitting up straight.
Everyone grew silent.
“We run,” she repeated turning to Sandra. “It’s the only way.”
“Where?” somebody asked.
Mevia stood up, still shaking. Her words fumbled clumsily. “We have…we have to leave The Clearing! We have to leave now.”
“And go where?”
“Somewhere safe,” her words tumbled, her mouth moving faster than her mind. “There has to be another Clearing out there somewhere.”
“There’s not,” said Thomas.
“There…there has to be…maybe it won’t be as nice, but…but that’s ok.”
“And then what?”
“And then we’ll just be extra careful. We’ll have look outs around the clock. And then someday, maybe the Poachers will forget all about us and we’ll be ok again.” Her voice was dry and strained. She knew she sounded crazy but didn’t care.
“What’s this we business?” asked Lin, giving her a sly smile, it’s meaning ambiguous. “Aren’t you two leaving?”
Mevia glared at him.
“Besides,” said Henny, “we have a good hiding place here. Even if we find another, they’ll just root us out of that one.”
“That’s true,” said Kurt. He then turned and addressed Mevia, “And another thing, running won’t work. They won’t forget. You know that.” He clenched his fists. “The only answer is that we fight.”
“With what?” asked Mevia.
“Spears. Knives.”
Mevia shook her head and let out a laugh. “You don’t get it. Those Neanderthals are obsessed with weapons. They hunt for sport. They are violent. Spears and knives? Ha! They have bows and arrows, and shields, and homemade medieval torture devices, machetes.”
“Machetes?” asked Thomas. “Where did they get those?”
“Found them in one of the abandoned houses. They only have three, but still.”
“Medieval torture…? What does that mean?” asked Telly.
“They may not be able to count beyond their fingers, but they’re creative when it comes to weaponry.”
Mevia spent time answering everyone’s questions about the tribe: How many of them are there? Eight unless someone died since I left. How accurate are their bows and arrows? Not very. Plus they drink a lot. How m
any of each weapon do they have? I’m not sure. Do you think they would just try and take our women or would they kill us all? If you’re asking me if they’re merciful the answer is ‘no.’ They would slaughter us all and use our innards for dental floss.
“That’s why we have to hide,” Mevia stressed. “These guys are violent. They’re murderers. We can’t beat them.”
“She’s right. Why risk us all being killed?” Cree said. “Let’s go west.”
“And then what?” said Telly. “Be in hiding for the rest of our lives?”
“Maybe,” said Cree. “That’s better than resorting to violence.”
“They’re the ones who are violent!” Telly argued. “We can’t keep hiding behind this rock. We’re going to have to fight!”
“And what then?” Thomas interrupted. “We kill them all? Not likely. Some of them? Maybe. And then? We will have ourselves a war raging across this tiny island.”
“Then we’ll get better weapons,” said Henny.
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Kurt. “History has shown over and over that the nations with the most advanced weapons are the ones who conquer.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Thomas pointed at the group. “That’s how it starts. That’s how this world got into such a mess. Nuclear war, Medusa.”
“Medusa was an accident.”
“Please.”
“We’re not talking about a nuclear war, Thomas. This is just a primitive fight for survival,” said Kurt.
“Wrong! The government used the nukes to wipe out entire nations, and for that, we hate the nukes.” His eyes glowed with a furor Mevia had never seen before in tranquil, fatherly Thomas. He raised his finger in the air. “But that’s exactly what’s about to happen here. The only difference? Less efficiency.” His face was red. Everyone was silent. “If we start, that’s what this is going to become. Not immediately, but eventually, over time. Mankind has been working on his own extinction since the caveman days.”
“How is this the same as when they used nukes to flatten entire cities?” said Kurt. “We’d only be killing eight bad guys.”
“Yes, and that’s half of this island. Think about the world. The earth’s population is much, much smaller now. Eight people today is a hell of a lot more than eight back then.” Thomas grew quiet suddenly. He looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Can’t escape it,” he whispered. After that he didn’t sit down, but fell onto his seat like a disposable old man put out into a corner.
Sandra spoke softly. “Perhaps there is a chance we could negotiate with them.”
“For what?” James’ eyes narrowed. “We have nothing to offer that they’d want.”
“Except women,” Lin said.
“Not a chance,” Cree said.
“Regardless, they’ll still kill every one of our men.” Mevia gestured around the circle. “And trust me, all the women would eventually die painful, horrible deaths. Those thugs are ignorant, evil barbarians!” Her breath quickened as if her lungs suddenly turned shallow, a strange sense of claustrophobia set in, like being locked in a bullet train heading straight into a mountain side. Suddenly she wished Eli were here. He would know what to do, and if not, at least he would be on her side, as protective as he was. In the middle of a tropical island, surrounded by friends, she shivered in the chill of solitude.
“So, no negotiation,” Telly said firmly. “That’s ok. I didn’t like that idea anyway.”
“So what idea do you like?” asked Cree, biting each word. “Fight or flight?”
“Fight. I don’t see any other way.”
Cree scoffed. “You’re insane.”
“I’m with Cree,” Mevia said quickly. “I say we get out of here.”
“We’ll be running for the rest of our lives!” Telly protested. “And in case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, this is a small island. We won’t be running for long.”
“I agree with Telly,” Kurt said. “I say we go scavenge for some more weapons.”
Mevia shook her head. The taste of bile flooded her throat and filled her mouth. She took a drink of water but it didn’t help.
James was pacing around the circle, deep in thought. Then his head popped up. “What if we build a fleet of boats? We could refurbish some of the abandoned ones around the island—smaller ones that we can complete quickly. Then, we could all escape to the mainland.”
Mevia sat up straight. “Yes. Of course!”
This ignited a new fire to the discussion.
They could use a rope and attach the boats together. They would only need four in total, three people to each plus supplies. James’ boat he had been working on was almost ready for open water, so really they only needed to make three more.
“If the Poachers get close to finding us before we’re finished, we may have to move the boats and finish the construction while in hiding, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” James walked back and forth, eyes on the ground, as if he was telling this to himself.
“Fine but will they work? Don’t you need sails for all of them? Is that even possible?” asked Cree.
James answered. “No. I don’t think so. The water here is fairly calm. And by my calculations there is a current flowing from the island all the way to the mainland. With some decent wind for the big boat and some strong rowing, we should be able to get there somewhat easily.”
“James, how do you know so much about the currents?” asked Sandra.
He smiled. “Hours and hours of patrol duty. What better place to observe ocean patterns?” He pointed up the mountain.
“So what have you all decided?” Thomas asked, placing his hands on his knees.
Cree raised his hand. “What if some of us don’t want to leave the island?”
“Are you crazy?” Dila shrieked.
Thomas didn’t say anything. He and Sandra exchanged a look.
Mevia didn’t like where this conversation was turning. “Look, why don’t we just start rebuilding the boats and gathering supplies? Quickly. Then we can go from there.”
“That’s right,” said James. “You forget that they don’t really know where we are. It will probably take them a long time to find the Clearing.”
“Yes,” said Mevia. “And we can watch their progress. If they’re getting too close we can always gather our things and leave.”
Everyone sat around and discussed the plan as the sun went down and continued into the evening while the crickets chirped loudly as if joining the debate. Finally, they agreed to go ahead with the escape preparations. James said that with everyone working, they should be able to finish the boats in a couple of weeks.
“And if we have to, how will we move them into hiding?” asked Thomas.
James shrugged. “It’s not as difficult as you might think. We can load them up on some logs and sail them around the island. It’ll be easier and safer than going by land.”
Mevia’s stomach was settling, but she still wasn’t hungry. She peered around the circle at each tribesmen, but instead of seeing their faces, she saw Flora’s, not the lifeless girl she found just days before, but the fresh faced, healthy one she met in the pit, young and scared; naïve and hopeful. Then the claustrophobia returned, her insides becoming insulated, and stuffy.
Sandra approached with a pitcher and refilled Mevia’s cup. She paused and placed her hand on Mevia’s head, leaving it there for a moment before she moved on. As Mevia watched her tend to Kurt, then Dila, then Cree, she suddenly thought about her mother. Dead for sixteen years, but in that moment, Mevia suddenly understood her better than she ever had before. She understood the woman, sitting around the dining room table with her family, knowing what was coming, what she needed to do, but praying in vain for it to be different.
This must be how she felt. Not as Captain Freestand, but as mother of daughter, wife of husband. All notions of nation and sacrifice obscured by her tiny world around the dinner table.
They’ll be ok. We’ll run aw
ay. You’re not responsible for their well-being.
Mevia closed her eyes, closed her mother’s eyes and willed herself to return to her present time on the island, and in this time and place, she could not blame these feelings on her dad and not on Eli. She clutched her gut as if trying to keep her grit from slipping away, like sitting in a receding wave. No matter what they decide, she told herself, whether they stay or go, no matter what happens to them, when the time comes to leave, I will be ready. I have to be.
***
The following morning there was some debate after breakfast between those who wanted to work on the boat, versus those to felt that other chores were more important.
Mevia watched as Dila jumped in on a conversation between Cree and Wil. “Look Cree,” she said. “Wil wants to work on the boats today. They’re more important.”
Cree’s brow furrowed. “Buddy,” he addressed Wil, ignoring Dila, “you can work on the boat later, right now we need to find a new net.”
Wil looked from Dila to Cree and back to Dila. From the forest, a goat brayed, its voice sounding distressed and strained. Wil placed a hand on Cree’s bare shoulder, “C’mon man, we’ll work on the net after the boat, ok? There’s plenty of time.” Then he and Dila walked off together, elbows linked.
Cree shook his head and sauntered off.
Mevia ducked away and gathered the breakfast dishes for wash, avoiding the other tribesmen’s eyes. Although she hadn’t been a part of the net disagreement, for some reason she felt like a central player in the scene.
“Not good. Not good.” Cree was standing out in the open, holding up his anemo-hygrometer tool, a contraption he constructed and insisted helped him predict the weather.
“What is it?” Sandra asked moving next to him.
“Storm coming. Big, wet rain.”
“Oh dear.” Sandra clutched her chin.
He looked down at Mevia, his face was reserved, but, she thought, it held a hint of unfriendliness. “This will put everyone behind in the boat preparations.” Cree shook his head, bitterly. “Not to mention, I still have to go out there and scavenge the houses for a new net. I suppose I can go alone.” He looked off to where Wil had disappeared beyond the trees.
Children of the Kradle (Trilogy Book 1) Page 27
