“Oh! Maybe—” Thanh said, an idea crystallizing in his head, “maybe Mai had a tiny piece of a magical gift when we were in Vietnam, and now in this new world, her gift has grown. Multiplied.” Even as he said them, his words themselves sounded magical. A fairy tale. And yet they also made sense, like here was an explanation that was—in this world, anyway—real.
“Mai?” Uncle Hung said. “What do you think of all this?”
Mai did not answer. Her face glowed, the smile she’d lit up with a few minutes ago now burning bright. Like she had the best secret in the world and she couldn’t hold it in for a second longer. More drips ran down her face from her hair, and she licked at them.
“Mai?” Uncle Hung said gently. “Don’t drink salt water, honey.”
“The water,” Mai said. “THE WATER!” She slapped her foot through it in an arc that sprayed them all.
“Mai. Are you okay?” Thanh asked.
Mai laughed suddenly, and her voice pealed out as if she weren’t at all tired or thirsty or hungry, as if she hadn’t just been shot out of her world, as if she weren’t lost, maybe forever. “Didn’t you taste it when you went under? The water. We can drink it. It’s fresh water!”
It was indeed. Everyone let go of hands, this time on purpose, and immersed themselves and floated and drank their fill. Mai, who did not sink, squatted and scooped water for herself and the baby.
The water was good. It was very good.
Then they joined hands again, and they climbed out of the water and stood, and they chose a direction, and they walked.
PART FOUR
Kinchen and Caesar, on the Island of Tathenn in the Second World.
The Present (Summer 1978).
1
STANDING WITH Old Ren and Caesar in the surf of the Odd Bay, Kinchen faced the sea monster, and she trembled even as she stared into its enormous eye. The Kraken—Kinchen tasted the word on her tongue several times before even attempting to say it—did not charge them or shake its fists (or fronds or whatever it might shake), did not do anything remotely threatening; in fact, it didn’t do anything at all. Its size and potential power, though, were enough to render it terrifying. The Odd Bay appeared too small to contain it. “How did the— How does it fit?” she finally asked. It wasn’t the most pertinent question, but it was the only one that came out.
“Not it,” said Ren softly, eyes on the Kraken. “He. The water here is deeper than it looks. Lots of unusual things under the surface.” They talked in muted tones, as if not to disturb a sleeping baby.
“That how the Odd Bay got its name? Because of him?” asked Caesar. Neither Ren nor Kinchen replied; an answer wasn’t necessary. All three of them stared at the Kraken, who stared back with his giant eye.
The eye blinked again, and the Kraken descended, slowly submerging and disappearing.
“He’s ready to go now,” Ren said.
• • •
EACH GIRL carried a waterproof backpack containing a jacket and some dried food as well as a little packet of matches. There hadn’t been time to scrounge for more supplies—and if the Kraken took them all the way to Raftworld, they were unlikely to need much.
When she hugged her adopted grandfather good-bye, Kinchen couldn’t help but ask about the Kraken. “How do you talk to—to him?”
Ren laughed, then coughed. “Don’t be too impressed. Pip has had far more profound conversations with him than I ever did.”
“Pip?” He’d never told her.
“The boy has more adventure to him than people realize. Especially you, child.” Ren coughed, phlegmy spasms that made him prop his hands on his thighs and lean forward. When the coughs passed, he braced his lower back and slowly straightened up. The early moonlight made the wrinkles on his brow look like etchings. “You two need to get going,” he said, pointing with his free hand, which shook slightly.
Out in the bay, the Kraken began to re-emerge closer to shore, the mound of his head cresting the water. Soon a half orb of eye glimmered above the rippled surface, the iris black; in its depths Kinchen could see the reflection of the moon. She turned to Ren to hear what the Kraken had to say, and she saw the old man’s pale eyes reflecting the monster, his face gray in the dusk.
“How old are you?” she said. It slipped out—she hadn’t meant to ask. She knew it was a rude question, one she’d never asked before. Ren did not invite such personal questions.
But Ren answered. “Too old. I won’t be around much longer.”
“Are you sick? Should I stay . . . ?” Kinchen couldn’t leave the old man if he was ill. But she had to find Pip—who was also in danger.
“I’ll still be here when you get back. Not to worry. I’m just saying that I think this is my last big thing.” He smiled, but she could see sadness in his eyes. Sadness and the Kraken.
“Your last big thing?”
“The last thing I need to do. What I came back for. To help you two, and him.” The Kraken disappeared, then bobbed up closer to shore.
And Kinchen realized that when Ren said “you two,” he meant her and Caesar; and when Ren said “him,” he meant not Pip but the Kraken. “How are you helping him?” She looked back into the bay.
The Kraken submerged again.
Ren said, “I had a choice to make once, long ago. It took me an eon to make that choice and to return here. Now he has a decision to make, too. All I can do is listen, and help him think things through.”
“What’s his problem?”
Ren didn’t answer. “He’ll take you most of the way, and then he needs to hurry back here. He’s waiting. And he’s old—he’ll be ready to turn into an island soon.”
“Is that what happens?” said Caesar, still staring out to sea. “When they die?”
Again Ren didn’t answer. “Time to go. Tide’s turning.”
Kinchen said good-bye to Ren. Prickly as he could sometimes be, she loved him more than she could say. “I’ll bring Pip back,” she said to the side of his neck as she hugged him.
He cleared his throat. “Come back yourself, safe and sound. I’ll be here. Safe travels.”
Kinchen and Caesar walked out into the bay, toward where they had last seen the Kraken. Before they were chest-deep in the water, Caesar took Kinchen’s hand and pulled her onto a bumpy log—which was not a log after all, but a tentacle. They traversed the long limb until they reached the mantle of the creature, the top of which now rose above the water’s surface, and they climbed aboard.
The Kraken began to move away from the Island. In the bright moonlight, Ren shrank to a waving dot and then disappeared.
Finally the Island disappeared, too, and they were truly at sea. Riding the back of a Kraken.
2
AS CAESAR pointed out, they weren’t actually riding the Kraken’s back—since Krakens don’t have backs. “At least, not according to the stories. It’s more like we’re sitting on top of his head.” But to Kinchen it felt like riding the back of an enormous horse—an animal she’d heard of but never seen, as none lived on Tathenn anymore.
The Kraken’s back (Kinchen decided to keep calling it that) was craggy and gray, like a mountain. It was not particularly comfortable to sit on, but it was large and it wasn’t slippery—they didn’t need to fear falling off. They seemed to be moving quickly; the wind whipped at their faces and the Kraken left a trail of white bubbles in its wake, like a long tail. Seaweed drifted past them at a respectable clip.
The Kraken carried them through the night. Both girls wrapped themselves in their coats and curled up uncomfortably on the rocky surface of his mantle. But once asleep they slept deeply, and it was not until bright morning that Kinchen awoke, stiff and a little damp from the spray.
“Where are we?”
Caesar looked up from her food scraps. “Close, I think.”
“How can you tell?”
“B
irds.” She swallowed a bite. “There are a lot of birds on Raftworld. So when I start to see them out here, I think we must be near home. Or other land. But since we’re looking for Raftworld, I’m hoping that’s what it is. Did you sleep good? This food is amazing.” She had devoured everything in her pack.
Kinchen opened her own pack and took enough for her breakfast, handing Caesar the rest.
“Thanks. Traveling is hungry work.”
A short hour later, they could see Raftworld, a long line on the horizon fluttering with birds. Kinchen and Caesar repacked their coats into their waterproof backpacks (there was no food to repack), and Kinchen sat back to wait.
But they didn’t draw closer. Raftworld stayed maddeningly on the horizon, and they drifted along behind it, not closing the distance. After a few minutes’ silence, Caesar said, “Well, this must be the drop-off spot. Maybe Kraken don’t like big crowds, and as your grandpa said, he wants to get back home. So we’ll go from here.”
“That’s an awful long swim,” said Kinchen. She was a strong swimmer, but this distance was ridiculous—especially if Raftworld was moving away from them. “Can you—can you swim that far?”
“Can’t swim at all,” said Caesar cheerfully, her braids swinging as she shook her head. “No, sir. I sink like a stone.”
“What?”
“That’s my gift, you see.”
Kinchen shook her head.
“I sink to the bottom. And then I walk.” She grinned. “And I can take you with me. At least, I’m pretty sure I can. I used to take my mom with me on walks, a long time ago when I was little. Before she died. And that was fine.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.”
“It was a long time ago. And my dad died when I was a baby. I’m an orphan—like you.”
But without Pip and Old Ren, Kinchen thought. Without even an adopted family.
Something must have showed on her face, because Caesar said, bouncing a little as she spoke, “I’m fine. Totally and completely okay. No worries. Now: let’s walk under the water.”
“Oh . . . I’ll swim.” The distance was long, but swimming still seemed safer than sinking to the bottom of the ocean and trying to walk. That was not going to happen.
Caesar scrunched up her face and squinted at Raftworld. “That’s crazy-far to paddle. You sure you don’t want to walk on the bottom with me?”
“I’ll swim.” She’d never poked her head underwater with Pip—never wanted to be part of something that was obviously not her gift. She wasn’t going to start now.
While Caesar put on both backpacks (“Since you’re swimming, I’ll carry”), Kinchen walked down the slope of the Kraken’s back into the water. It was like hiking down a rocky beach. When Kinchen had descended deep enough, she pushed off and treaded water. Caesar waded down until she was up to her chest, then paused, bobbing gently up and down with the Kraken. “I’ll thank him on my way down,” she said. “I don’t have gifts of talking to sea creatures, but I think he’ll understand.”
“Sounds good.” Warmed up from treading water, Kinchen was ready to swim.
“And I’ll be under you. The whole time. I’ll be there. If you get too tired, just sink, and I’ll catch you.”
Kinchen held up her thumb in an “okay” sign. But really: Sink if you get tired, and I’ll catch you? I don’t think so. She would just have to swim for it.
Caesar slid down into the water, her waving hand the last thing to disappear.
Kinchen waited, treading water for a moment, to see if Caesar would come up again. But she didn’t.
The Kraken, however, rose, its head growing until it resembled nothing so much as a mountain erupting from the sea. Finally, one great eye emerged, focused like a lamp upon her. Kinchen gasped; close up she could see that the eye was bigger than she was, even if she were to reach her legs and arms out like a starfish. She was barely bigger than the pupil.
The eye stared at her. It seemed to be waiting.
“Um,” she said. “I mean, thank you. Very much.”
The great eye blinked. The Kraken descended again until just the top of the head was visible. And then the top of the head submerged, and he was gone.
Kinchen was alone in the ocean.
She kicked out toward Raftworld and began to swim.
• • •
IT’S POSSIBLE that Kinchen might have made it all the way to Raftworld—maybe—if Raftworld hadn’t been retreating as she swam. Every time she looked up, it was sitting on the horizon. She swam for what seemed like hours, stopping only to drink water—so sweet and cool—and, every once in a while, to flip onto her back and catch her breath.
Raftworld never got closer. Never. The sun got higher and higher in the sky—and then lower. And Raftworld stayed on the horizon.
Finally Kinchen was so tired she could not lift her arms to paddle. Gasping, she treaded water and wondered if a kind dolphin might come along and give her a ride. But that only happened in stories. No, she’d have to figure out how to swim faster.
Or she’d sink.
And if she did . . . would Caesar really catch her?
She lay on her back, utterly exhausted, thinking about her options.
After a few more minutes, she flipped to her stomach, eyes open, and looked down. The water was clear and green, and as with much of the ocean in the second world, the bottom was close enough to see. Brightly colored fish flitted through coral that rose from the sand.
There was something—a dark shape—just on the edge of the sandbar—but she couldn’t hold her breath any longer.
She flipped to her back again.
When she’d caught her breath, she turned over and looked down. There: Caesar, standing on the ocean’s sandy bottom near the coral, waving up at her.
No: not waving. Motioning her to come down.
3
THERE REALLY weren’t any options left, unless Kinchen counted drowning as an option. And she didn’t. So the choices were to swim—which she’d proven impossible—or to sink down to where Caesar was and trust her to take them to Raftworld.
Caesar certainly looked fine under the water. She’d been down there for hours and hadn’t died yet. She whirled her arms in giant come-here motions.
Kinchen was so exhausted, she wasn’t even sure she could make it down—and back up again if this experiment didn’t work. But she needed to try. She took as large a breath as she could, her lungs aching and cramped, and plunged downward.
She couldn’t make it to the bottom. She couldn’t. She could feel her arms giving out. She could see them, floating in front of her, and she thought, Pull. Pull. But her arms wouldn’t work anymore. They weren’t part of her body. They were just these things floating in front of her.
Her legs kept kicking, but weakly. She told them to kick harder, and they didn’t obey. Her lungs were about to burst.
Caesar jumped and jumped, little clouds of sand rising around her feet. But she was still too far away, and she was growing fuzzy, as if seen through a fog.
Then, as Kinchen drifted down, her last bit of breath leaving her body, Caesar gathered herself into a ball, leapt up higher than ever, and grabbed her hand, dragging her the rest of the way down.
• • •
AS SOON as Caesar grabbed her hand, they both dropped like stones to the bottom of the ocean—which wasn’t far. And Kinchen immediately felt better.
Not just better: good. She couldn’t breathe—but she didn’t need to. With Caesar’s hand in hers, Kinchen’s lungs stopped burning, and they no longer felt like they were going to burst. Her arms and legs were still tired—her arms felt far worse than the day she’d challenged herself to do a thousand push-ups (and hadn’t made it). But her body was now light, and her weary legs could support her. Next to her stood Caesar, shaking her head and grinning, braids swirling around her head like tentacles.
Amazing, isn’t it?
What? Somehow Kinchen could hear Caesar’s voice, as if Caesar was inside her head—even though Caesar’s mouth didn’t move. Caesar hadn’t actually spoken, not in the usual way.
That’s right! Caesar danced a bit, sparking the sand up around her feet. Just think at me, and I’ll hear you, as long as we’re holding hands.
Think at you?
Good job! Just like that. And isn’t this amazing?
Kinchen looked around. The light filtered down to them at the bottom of the shallow ocean. Bright fish darted in and out of the coral. When Kinchen looked up, she could see a blue sky waving and sparkling overhead through the window of water. She had to admit, Caesar’s favorite word seemed finally appropriate. Yes, amazing.
Now let’s hike ourselves to Raftworld. Caesar tugged at Kinchen’s hand. Let’s run!
And they did, in slow motion. They ran the way swallows fly, looping away from and toward the earth in long waves. Each step was a leap, and each landing took them a graceful vault closer to Raftworld.
Until, finally, they slowed to a walk.
They walked in the shadow of Raftworld.
4
WE SHOULD GO UP. Caesar pointed, as if Kinchen might not know what she meant. In the cool green shadow of Raftworld, her eyes flashed bright.
Yes, but right now? Maybe we want to sneak up. After dark. As the goal was to rescue Pip, and there were only two of them to accomplish the task—and those two not exactly warriors—Kinchen saw no sense in moving too quickly. But she didn’t think that part at Caesar—it was her own private thought.
Caesar knew, though. We don’t need only to rescue your brother. We also need to talk the Raft King out of it—out of a rash mistake, like your grandfather said. Remember?
Of course she remembered. Why do we need to talk the king out of leaving? Why not just let him go to the first world, if that’s what he wants?
A Crack in the Sea Page 17
