by Mandy Hager
Staring down again at the rough edges of the reef, she found herself holding her breath as the hull started to slide past the jagged branches of coral with only a tiny fraction of space to spare.
“Ruth,” Lazarus shouted, “how's your side?”
“All right,” she said. “But don't come any further over this way.”
“Maryam?”
“Same as Ruth.”
“There's a huge rock just through the other side to port,” Joseph called out from his vantage point. “As soon as you're confident we're through, swing to the right.”
All appeared to be going as planned until, without warning, the boat was picked up by a surge of swell. The sea compressed through the narrow channel, shunting the boat forward, so that it slewed sideways at alarming speed. The right hull slammed up against the mass of coral, and a terrible scraping sound filled Maryam's ears as she was jolted off her feet and sent flying. Ruth screamed as the side rail caught Maryam square across her stomach, winding her. Somehow she managed to grab hold of the rail just in time to save herself from pitching overboard into the sea. But the pain was excruciating, and tears sprang to her eyes. She fell back to the deck, struggling for breath as the boat again lurched forwards on the swell.
“I'm okay,” she panted, motioning for Joseph and Ruth to stay at their posts. She forced herself to lean out past the rail to check for damage, fully expecting to see the timber shredded beyond repair. But by some wondrous miracle, the hull, though scraped and splintered, remained intact.
“It's fine,” she gasped, her voice wavering now though the worst was past.
“We've cleared the rock,” Joseph yelled. “And it looks as if we can sail straight up to the beach.”
Maryam wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to put her pain aside. There, ahead of them, the dense jungle reached long trailing fingers of vegetation down to the sandy shore, while a ragged procession of square boulders marched from the low-tide line up towards the dark understorey of the bush. Below her, the water was so clear she could see multicoloured fish dart between each individual stone and shell beneath swaying strings of seaweed.
With the hiss of the reef behind them, the air was alive with a barrage of birdsong and the clamour of insects rejoicing in the last of the afternoon's warm light. No one spoke as the boat glided in towards the beach. Instead, each of them nervously eyed the dark shadows of the bush for any sign of human life. The strange building they had spotted was now hidden from view and the trail of hewn boulders was the only hint that anyone had ever been here before.
They lifted the rudders and allowed the boat to slowly drift and beach itself on the smooth sandy shore, Maryam's heart beating so hard she could feel a pulse throbbing wildly in her temple. It was the moment she had dreamed of—safe at last from the Apostles’ controlling grasp. But even as she climbed across the rail and splashed into the warm shallows, a niggling uncertainty took hold of her. She had no idea what she feared the most: meeting the people who inhabited this island, or the awful possibility that no one lived here at all.
The first thing that struck Maryam as they secured the boat to several of the huge boulders was the staggering abundance of bird life. A colony of brown boobies lined the soft sand at the rim of the vegetation, their rich brown feathers puffed up and their piercing black eyes watching the intruders’ every step. Petrels, terns and shearwaters filled the sky, and from the dense jungle came a cacophony that seemed to make the air vibrate, as though warning the four that they did not belong. The smell, too, was overpowering—the fetid pungency of bird droppings mixed with the salty scent of kelp and the earthy undertones of the composting leaf-litter from the jungle floor.
There was no obvious sign of human settlement and, from the beach at least, no hint of the strange building they'd seen from the boat.
As soon as her feet touched dry land Ruth dropped to her knees in prayer. “Oh Lord, thank you for bringing us safely to Marawa…”
The other three regrouped behind her, swaying slightly as they adjusted to standing on firm ground again. Maryam felt a rush of excitement. They'd made it! Whatever else happened, they'd escaped the Apostles and sailed an unfamiliar craft across an equally unknown sea. Had she still believed the Lord was listening, as Ruth did, she'd have thanked Him too. But, for now at least, it was enough to feel pride in their own achievement.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked.
“Eat,” replied Ruth, as she wound up her prayers. “I don't know what it is about the sea air, but I'm hungrier than I've ever been before.”
Maryam laughed. “That's no surprise.” She prodded her friend in the soft roll of fat around her belly. “But don't you think perhaps we should make a camp first?”
“I vote we go in search of that building we saw,” Joseph said. “It may be that we won't need to camp if we can find the people who live here.”
His words stirred up Maryam's nerves. For as long as she did not know the outcome of their search, she could still hope all would be well. But the thought of launching straight into a new adventure made her knees go weak. “You think there's time for that today?”
Joseph studied the position of the sinking sun. “I'm guessing we've got about another hour before it grows too dark.”
“Then let's waste no time,” Lazarus said. He hurried over to the edge of the jungle, searching the ground before he spied a weighty staff of wood and picked it up. “Come on.”
“What's that for?” Maryam demanded, fearing she already knew.
“Protection.”
She glanced over at Joseph, expecting him to tell Lazarus not to be so stupid. Instead, he nodded his agreement, made his way over to his cousin's side and scooped another hefty piece of driftwood off the sand.
“Are you mad?” she said. “If we approach them with weapons we're just inviting trouble.”
“There's no way I'm walking unprotected into what could be a trap,” Lazarus countered, chopping the air with his staff.
“Trap? That's crazy talk. No one even knows we're here.”
Joseph smiled nervously. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm with Laz on this. Until we know otherwise, it's best we're prepared for every possible response.”
“But you promised we'd be made welcome,” Ruth protested.
“That's my hope,” Joseph replied. “But I'm not letting you girls walk into anything unprepared.” He looked intently at Maryam, as though silently willing her to acquiesce.
Maryam shook her head. The boys were right to be cautious, she supposed—and she was touched by Joseph's desire to protect both her and Ruth—but it seemed ridiculous to invite trouble where there might be none. “All right. But as soon as we meet them and it's clear we have nothing to fear, you must promise you'll drop the sticks immediately, as a show of faith.”
Joseph smiled his relief. “That's fine with me.”
“And you?” Maryam challenged Lazarus.
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I'll make up my own mind when the time is right. I'll not have you dictating how I act.”
“I'm not dictating—”
“Good,” he interrupted. “Then we're in agreement. Let's be off.” He marched towards a break in the undergrowth and disappeared into its depths.
“Laz! Wait!” Joseph called, running now to catch him up. In a moment he, too, was swallowed by the dense curtain of trees.
Maryam grasped Ruth's hand and ploughed in after him, panicked by the thought of being left behind.
Enclosed by the trees, the rich loamy odour of humus was almost overpowering, and the air itself was damp and thick. They plodded on, still swaying slightly, ducking under low-slung branches as startled birds took to the air in a flurry of flapping wings and shrill complaints. Five minutes…Ten…Then, up ahead through the maze of trees, Maryam saw the boys halt in their tracks and gaze around in stunned silence. A shiver trickled down her spine. Whatever they had seen there did not bode well.
As soon as the two girls caught them up,
it was horribly apparent why the boys had stopped. All around them lay the remnants of what must once have been a village made from stone. Now it was almost one with the jungle itself, consumed by a thick tangle of creepers, moss and grasses, and invasive trees. For as far as they could see in each direction, disintegrating stonework littered the ground, displaced by huge trees that twisted up through the collapsed structures, suffocating them in sinewy roots that spilled over and down like water transformed to wood. In some places it was impossible to tell where plant and stone divided, the streaky limestone faded to the same dirty shade and texture as the rough-cast bark.
Ruth gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth as her eyes shocked wide. “It's all true, just like the Apostles said. Everything has been destroyed.” She dropped down to her haunches then, rocking backwards and forwards as she moaned.
“Hold on, Ruthie,” Maryam said, though she knew the consolation was meagre. “Until we've found that big building we can't be sure.”
“You think the jungle would have grown like this if people still lived nearby?”
Maryam shrugged, not risking her voice with a reply. Ruth was right. It was clear that no one had ventured to this place for more years than she cared to guess. She crossed to Joseph's side, and reached out for the comfort of his hand.
“What do you think?” she whispered, examining his face to try to read his thoughts. His skin reflected back the same ghostly pallor as the stone and trees.
“We carry on until we find the other building, like you said.” He squeezed her hand. “But maybe you should take Ruth back and wait for us at the boat.”
“You're joking! We stick together no matter what.”
Joseph looked over to Lazarus. “What do you think?”
“Sister Maryam is right for once. Until we know exactly what we're up against, it's better we don't split up.”
Ignoring his insult, Maryam smiled at Lazarus, thankful that for now he'd put away his bravado. She squatted down next to Ruth. “Come on, Ruthie—please don't give up on this yet.”
Ruth's haunted gaze rose to hers. “Thus with violence shall that great city be thrown down, and shall be found no more…for who knoweth the power of thine anger? Even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.”
This, from the Holy Book, shook Maryam right down to her bones. If it was true that this village had been destroyed by the Tribulation, then everything else they had been told about that terrible time in history could well be true. When Mother Deborah told Maryam of the ship's log and the solar flares, she'd made it sound as if she believed the destruction was only temporary—that she was sure most life had been restored and Onewēre was not alone in its revival, despite the Apostles’ claim that the Lord had chosen only them and their disciples to remain on Earth. Was it possible for the underlying story of the Tribulation to hold true, even while the Apostles lied about so much else? And if it was possible, what did that mean for the four of them now?
“I'm sorry but we have to keep going, Ruth. We really have no other choice.” Maryam forced herself to rise, and offered her hand to hoist Ruth back up to her feet.
Ruth caused no further argument, but followed after Maryam as though she sleepwalked towards death. And, indeed, it felt as if they were fighting through the outskirts of Hell, crumbling stonework tripping them, webs of roots and creepers snaring their arms, legs and hair as they pushed through the undergrowth in the growing gloom.
For fifteen minutes more they persisted, struggling and panting as the ground began to slope uphill. And still there was no end to the destruction, nor any sign of the great towering structure they had seen from out at sea. The jungle was slipping into darkness now, the birds settling down to roost and the clamour of the insects dying with the retreat of the sun.
“That's enough!” Joseph finally called, turning to the other three as sweat poured freely down his face. “We'll search again tomorrow, but for now let's go back to the boat and settle for the night, or else we'll end up lost in here.”
No one argued, so they turned and stumbled back along the way they'd come, the darkness setting snares for them as tiredness and disappointment took its toll. Maryam struggled to match the pace set by the boys and, in her haste, missed her step as she clambered over a fallen log. She fell heavily, catching her back on some crumbling stonework, and hit the ground hard. For a moment she just lay there, stunned. Her elbows had been torn open by sharp shards of stone and her tailbone pulsed with pain.
“Maryam!” Ruth scrabbled after her, frantically digging through the pile of mossy dislodged stone to free her of its leaden weight. Then she let out a blood-curdling scream, and Maryam saw her wildly fling something into the undergrowth. “Oh Lord! Oh Lord!” Ruth leapt away, shuddering uncontrollably.
“What is it?” Lazarus was beside her now, grasping her shoulders firmly and trying to calm her while Joseph rushed to Maryam's aid.
Ruth shrank from his grasp, but pointed at the pile of rubble. “A human skull. I saw it—it was just there. It was—” Again she shuddered, before she was beset by tears.
Joseph was supporting Maryam as she gingerly rose to her feet. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.” She tried to smile. Her tailbone ached so much she thought she would vomit, and her elbows stung. But worst was the humiliation. Why was she the clumsy one who always seemed so foolish and ridiculously weak? She shook Joseph's hand away and set off again towards the beach, biting on her bottom lip to hold in the pain. Right now she cared for nothing more than escaping her embarrassment—the supposed skull and Ruth's distress would have to wait.
“Maryam, hold on!” Joseph crashed after her, leaving Ruth and Lazarus to take up the rear.
“I reckon you imagined it,” Lazarus taunted Ruth.
“I swear I saw it!” she protested. “It was smooth and round, just like a skull.”
“So, tomorrow, then, when we return, I'll find it lying over there?” He pointed to the tangled branches.
“Yes, you will.”
To hear the two of them squabbling was for a moment strangely reassuring. But Maryam's distracted amusement quickly fell away as the effort to keep moving while every muscle in her body cried out for attention made the last quarter of an hour fighting through the tumbledown village a painful chore.
When finally she broke through the undergrowth, sidestepping her way past the nesting birds, the relief was so intense it released her tears. She limped down to the water's edge, groaning as she knelt to wash the sticky blood from her elbows.
She ignored Joseph as he came and squatted close beside her. She still felt too belittled by her own weaknesses to meet his eye. He said nothing, just reached across with his index finger and carefully brushed away a tear that had collected in the thick lashes beneath her eye. Out on the horizon, the sunset lit the sky with rusty pink and gold. She let the beauty of it wash over her, and slowly leaned in towards him until her head rested on his shoulder and the comfort of his body helped the pain recede.
“This is not what I imagined,” she confessed.
Joseph slipped his arm around her waist. “You're incredibly brave, you know?”
“No, not brave at all.”
“But look what you've endured already. First the bloodletting, then my Uncle Joshua's wrath. Even today, twice hurt enough for any normal girl to weep and wail, yet you—”
“Stupid and stubborn perhaps,” she interrupted, “and certainly clumsy—but not brave.” She shifted on her knees, trying to cushion her aching tailbone. “Braveness is a conscious act—like yours, standing up to my father when he would have seen me bound and beaten, or passing up your chance for a comfortable life. All I've done is run away.”
He grinned. “Well, you're right about the stubborn part!”
She feigned annoyance, nudging him so hard he lost his balance and fell onto the tide-lapped sand. “Watch yourself,” she warned.
Behind her, Ruth laughed. Maryam glanced back, expecting to see that Ruth had been sp
ying on their game. But she was still up near the edge of the jungle, laughing as Lazarus tried unsuccessfully to light a fire. And he was playing to his audience, striking the flint with such a pompous lack of skill it made Maryam smile as well.
“He should hand the flint over to Ruth. We've been lighting fires like that since we were small.”
“He used to know,” Joseph said, standing now to brush the coating of wet sand from his legs. “When we were little he used to come and stay with us. My father would show us how to hunt and fish, and make a fire from almost nothing to cook what we had caught.” He offered his hand to Maryam, but still she had to suppress a groan as she straightened out.
“You like Lazarus, don't you?” she asked as they walked back to join the others.
He nodded thoughtfully. “I do. Until the last two or three years we were as close as brothers, and then something—I don't know what—seemed to come over him. He changed.”
“He scares me,” Maryam said. “I don't trust him at all.”
“Give him a chance. I think maybe he'll be better now he's free of his father's expectations.”
“I hope you're right,” Maryam said, though her doubts remained. She knew the other side of Lazarus's behaviour—had experienced it firsthand.
They had reached the makeshift fireplace Lazarus and Ruth had built from scattered rocks.
Lazarus glanced up. “Right about what?” he asked.
“That I can teach you how to light a fire properly,” Joseph joked. He snatched the flint from Lazarus's hand and went to work, whooping with delight when a spark caught in the mix of twigs and dry leaf-litter at his second strike. He blew gently on the smouldering kindling, and fanned a tiny flame to life. “Now, that, cousin, is how you start a fire!”
Maryam and Ruth applauded, while Lazarus took his defeat in good grace. He even volunteered to scour the beach for burnable wood, hauling over great logs as Ruth and Maryam filled their arms with brittle branches from the jungle's edge.
