by Sam Taylor
THE ISLAND AT THE END
OF THE WORLD
Sam Taylor
for Oscar, Milo and Paul-Emile
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Part One
I Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?
II Soon as I breath in I no
III There’s still snow in the shadows
IV I spy her hidden round a boulder
V When they’re asleep I leave the ark
VI Evry things so green today even the air
VII I pour another glass, the red blackish
VIII First I hear a gunshot then I open my eyes
IX I untangle myself from Daisy’s hot arms
X Leaning back genst the dry mud bank
XI I wake up and remember. Thank God, thank God
XII The risings speard a gen
XIII He is breathless, his eyes huge
XIV Its go-ing to be a nother flamer of a day
XV Walking in the garden in the cool of the shade
XVI Ahm sat nex to his grave stone
Part Two
XVII I dreamt that he was gone again
XVIII The silence is noisy as Hell
XIX Yes, the sky is lightening now
XX Calm down, calm. I close my eyes
XXI The final petal falls to the ground
XXII I tidy up the mess in her bedroom
XXIII I shake my head, blinking in the dazzle
XXIV Back in the ark, I fix supper
XXV Something flickers in the corner of my eye
XXVI The words keep pouring out my mouth
XXVII All was black but for a rhombus of blue light
XXVIII I can feel it, ghostlike, chilling my bones
XXIX Is the mist clearing?
XXX Up the last slope I go
XXXI The trees, ever taller, lean into the hill
XXXII In the gentle heat of these gloaming rays
XXXIII Soon as I breath in I no
About the Author
Copyright
PART ONE
And the waters decreased continually until the tenth month: in the tenth month, on the first day of the month, were the tops of the mountains seen.
Genesis 8 : 5
I
Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?
I don’t know who you are but you’re headed into trouble.
So, stranger, do yourself a favor. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER TO THIS ISLAND. Turn around now and go back where you came from.
I have lived here with my children since the Great Flood seven springtimes ago, and we are happy here. Me and my family, we are UNCONTAMINATED.
You, O dark dot on my horizon, O mote in my telescopic sights, come from a God-damned place. You may have escaped drowning but you’re still soiled and spoiled by the evils that stalked this land before the Great Wave crashed down and swallowed them all up. Like the angel said, Babylon is fallen, is fallen and is become the habitation of devils. And you, stranger, partook of her sins, you received her plagues, you are tainted by her poisons.
IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I WILL KILL YOU I SWEAR.
You can’t see me but I can see you. I have you in my crosshairs now. Turn around and sail back to your own island or believe me you’re a deadman.
*
I put down the pen, breathing heavily, and read through what I’ve written. It’s OK, I guess. It’ll do. Truth is, it’s hard to tell a stranger how much you hate them just by writing words on a piece of paper. I could make the point so much more eloquently with my eyeballs an inch from his and my hands round his throat.
But (relax, deep breaths) I don’t want it to go that far, not if I can help it. The risks are too great. These words could save both of us from Hell, so I need to make them perfect. Right now, though, I’m still too angry to think clearly so I fold the paper up and slide it in the pocket of my fleece. Then I stand up from the desk and climb into my long rabbit-fur coat, walk outside, close and lock the door of the wooden cabin behind me, and begin the walk through the forest.
Springtime’s late this year. Frost and ice reign unmelted in the shadows on the ground, where leaves crunch beneath my boots. The sky I see in shreds through the canopy of naked oak branches is the same low dead-ash grey it’s been for months now, and the air’s the same soul-sucking cold. But listen to me, I sound like a fickle woman, moaning about the horrors of winter. Lord, I am sorry for my weakness. I know without Your grace myself and my family would not even be alive now. You saved us from the fate the others suffered and I will always love and obey You, for You are the resurrection and the light, Amen.
I can feel the tendons in my legs tensing as I climb the slope. I haven’t been out much lately, only to chop firewood and hunt. Mostly we’ve survived on soup and salted meat and spent our days in the ark, the four of us huddled near the woodburner. It’s been good – the songs, the stories, the love – but I guess in those frozen months my body’s rusted up, the skin thinned, muscles wasted, lungs shrivelled like week-old party balloons. Alice, Finn and Daisy are all fine because they’re young, but at my age you need to keep the engine turning over. I won’t let myself get so lazy again, I swear. Hell, I didn’t even go up to the lookout till yesterday, and then.
The shock of it.
For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.
I clench and unclench my fists, then remind myself that it could have been worse. The figure I saw through the field glasses was a tiny speck, far in the distance. He could have been closer, could have been HERE.
But no. A let-off. By the grace of God.
I take a breather before the final slope, then launch myself up the face of the hillside in the old way, thighs pumping, hands grasping branches and propelling my body past them, on to the next, to the last. At the top, I bend double and vomit up my meagre breakfast. Afterwards, light-headed but relieved, I walk through the plateau of redwoods and savour again the great ecstasy I first knew when I discovered this place. Eight years ago now, another lifetime.
I reach the Knowing Tree and look up its length, the upper branches vanished in mist. As I climb the first ladder, I think of my children. Worry about them. Fear for them. But they are safe and warm in the ark: the door is locked, and Alice has the key, if anything were to happen. Which it won’t. And they have Goldie to protect them. He would lay down his life for us, that dog.
As I climb the second and third ladders, I think about nothing but the knifelike pain in my chest. At the top of each, I rest until my breathing’s back to normal. I don’t look down. I climb the last ladder, entering and exiting the cloud of vapour, and finally collapse onto the platform.
When my heart’s slowed, I stand up and walk to the edge. I grip the low wood railing and look out, down, across: three hundred feet above the ground but all I can see is the mist, with treetops emerging from its whiteness, thousands of them, naked and evergreen, circling this bird’s nest. And then, beyond them, the sea. Stretching out in all directions till it meets the horizon. The silent, waveless, colour-changing sea that has guarded this island since the flood.
I pick up the field glasses and touch them to my eyes. A dazzling blur; I twitch the focus. And there, there, closer than yesterday, the dark mark that tolls the Bell of Dread inside me. He is coming, still.
I take the paper out of my pocket and unfold it, glance through it again. Yes, I think it gets the message across. But will it reach him? Will he read it? I must write a dozen, a hundred letters like this one and send them out in bottles across the quiet ocean. Surely one of them will find its way to him, will scare him away, stop him encroaching on our paradise and s
taining it forever with the filthy stench and lies of Babylon, whence he cometh.
Him. The stranger. Whoever HE is.
II
Soon as I breath in I no. The airs not cold on my I-lids like befor its warm an sweet the first blossoms mixt up with pine an grass an stonesmells all sharp from the night-fallen rain. I no shure as I no my names Finn an Ive got a hunerd an four moons. Shure as I no I live on an I-land an my Ma died wen I wer lil. Shure as the suns the sun an the seas the sea I no winters finely over. I stretch my arms an legs genst the sheets an let all the air out my lungs in a long low sigh. Springs here I hurray in my head. Then I breath in a gen.
I sit up an open my eyes an I can see the rainbowish light coming thru the gap in the doorway. The berfly in my chest shivers its wings. Quite as I can I crawl out from under the blankets an climb down the bunk ladder. Alices wheezing slowly so I no shes still a sleep but Daisy must be up all ready I can see her bed in the dim gold sunstreak an the pillows emty. Theres jus a hollow dint where her heads been.
I find her in the kitchen drinking milk her top lip painted wite an her fingers an thumbs cageing the cup tight like its a bird or a rabbit strulling to scape. Morning Daisy I say an she looks up all bleary from the cup an smiles. I ask her where Pa is an she shrugs Out like its a question cus she dont realy no the anser. Erly mornings shes too deep in her milk an dreams to pay any tension to wats round her.
I drink some milk its still warm an it makes me feel bigger an easier some how. There are pancakes on a plate in mill of the table but theyre cold so Pa musta made em befor he milkt the goats. I wonder where he is now. Some days hes gon all morning but its rare. I fetch some chopt wood from the pile an fill up the range. Alice reckons he goes up to the Afterwoods but she dont no shes only magining. I eat a pancake with blackbree jam an finish the milk an wash the cup then like all ways I por milk in a bowl an put it on the floor an yowl sheeck chush-chush but like some times Snowy dont come. He must be out hunting lizards I magine or licking him self some where in the sun.
I put on trainers an walk outside. The sun feels so good on my skin I want to open up like a flower. I look at Pas mometer on the south wall the mercrys up to fourteen all ready an the rometers arrows pointing to sun. I no its go-ing to be a beauty full day.
I side to serch for Pa cus I want to ask him bout God. I jus gun reading the Bible an its strange an scary like be-ing lost outside at night. Its like the words dont have the same meanings they had in the Tales. An all them people be-ing born an kild an harly no thing in tween. An God. I cant stand God.
I look round near the chicken shed for Pa but he int there an the doors still bolted. I open it an out they flurry shrawking leven brown hens an the two cocks like kings in ther shiny blackanwite robes an rubberish red crowns. I throw em some corn an watch. The hens peck each other moren the food shrawking an grobbling ther beady eyes all ways open. Pa says theyre jus like people in the befor world eaten up with envy for all the things they hant got an not membring wat they do. But they lay eggs an ther flesh tastes good cookt so thats wy we keep em.
I go in the shed an pick seven eggs from round a nother hen whos I-ther laying or sitting. There are maybe mor under her but she pecks my rist wen I try to lift her up. I hold out the edge of my T-shirt so the eggs lie hard in the soft hollow clicking like stones in a pocket.
I take em to the kitchen an place em in the straw box. Daisys reading now she looks up an asks me wat an ogre is. I splain bout em being giant an eating people an her eyes widen. Its jus stories tho I shure her an she says Ohh an gins reading a gen. I miss the Tales I loved ther once-ponatimes an ther dangerous ventures an ther happy everafters. I liked magining my self a Prince fighting ogres an witches but the Bibles not like that I cant magine my self Cain or Noah or Abram an no body fighting God ever wins.
So out I go a gen round past the chickens an the bamboo hut an the yard of vines an up to the gardens. I guest Pa might be there but he int. So I walk past the rows of tatoes an pumkins an thru the new plowd fields where the cornll grow in summer till I come to the orchard.
I go up to the big cherry tree an climb its branches high as I can. From up here I can see all the gardens an the toy-seeming ark an the antlike chickens an the slope down to the beach an the shining sea. Theres no sign of Pa so I turn round an look up past the goats an sheep an the river an the lake up to where the trees grow taller an closer to gether till my eyes cant make out the spaces in tween em cus theyre all dark with shadow an the treetops rise ever higher on the hill steepning behind. The Afterwoods. Towring over us like all ways. My mind goes kinda blank an I look up at the sky. Its blue sept for one wite line like Gods scratcht it with his nail.
I feel thirsty so I jump down from the tree an walk to the river. I neel down an drink the clear I-see water. Its so good an cold I plunge my hole head in an after I rub the hairs dry. I breath in deep an I can smell the dark mud of the rivers bank. Then I close my eyes so the blood in my lids is luminated an all I sees red an I listen. I all ways hear sharper wen my eyes are closed. I hear the bird that sounds like its singing in questions an the bird that sounds like its sucking wet sand thru its beak an the bird that kinda shrawks like its angry. I dont no the names of the birds Pa says he never lernd em. An under all these sounds I can hear the river shushing thru its bends. An me. All ways me. I can hear the air go-ing in an out my mouth an wen I hold my breth I can hear my blood booming quitely like the thickest string on Pas guitar. Duum duum it goes. I wish Ikerd stop it some times so Ikerd hear all the other sounds clearer but Pa says without that duum duum I wunt hear no thing a tall.
I can feel my belly rumbling an stirring now so I go to the dark bend where the spade is an dig a hole an crouch over it the flies zizzing near my face an cool water rivering down my temples. In winter you cant smell wat you do but todays heat minds me of summer an the bleurch of it under me. I wipe my ass with dock leaves then throw em in the river where theyre carried a way. Then I cover wat I done with erth an wash my hands.
On I go feeling lighter. Its hot in the sun so I walk long the side of the lake an up the slope till I reach the smaller trees at the edge of the Afterwoods. Now I turn left an walk thru scatterd shade edging the forest an looking side ways into its climbing darks. I stop an stare an feel sunly spookt. I never been in there a lone. I never been in there all the way. Pa says the heart of its dangerous. Cording to Alice theres a tree deep in there calld the No-ing Tree. Alice says Pa told her bout it once how it tells you secrets of the I-land an he promist wen she had a hunerd an sixty moons hed take her to this tree an shed no all. Shes got a hunerd an fifty nine now an Alice says if he dont take her nex moonday sheal go a lone. She dont say that to Pa tho only me an I dont be leave her. Her mouths biggern her belly Alice.
I keep on walking the forests edge my trainers shushing thru long wet grass. Ahm looking for Pa an for Snowy. I pass some traps but theyre emty ther steel mouths open waiting.
On an on I go the airs dead still an I start to grow fear full. I gin calling ther names.
Pa.
Snowy.
Pa.
Snowy.
Finely I spy him on the rising an run tords him calling. Pa. Pa. Pa. I cant stop my mouth making a smile it wer so creepy an lone some in the shadow of the Afterwoods. Hes with Goldy who waf-wafs me. I run fast as I can tripping over treeroots an brambles. Pas stood still his face shaded his arms held wide an he bends low as I rush an stumble into him. I can smell him like all ways its shuring his smell an his arms go tight strong warm round my back an lift me up an I feel safe in love my eyes are closed.
Wats up sofs Pa. His voice sounds strange.
I dint no where you wer I blurt an he says
Finn you no I all ways come back dont you. You no ahd never leave you for long.
His voices so strange I have to open my eyes an look at his face. Theres a spression on it I dont call seeing befor kinda like worrying an keeping a secret at the same time. To scover wat it means I make my face like his an
straighter way I can feel the poison toad squatting heavy in my chest. Thats weird I think wats Pa got to feel guilty bout.
Wats rong I ask staring in his eyes theyre brown an black an wite with yellowish patches an tiny streaks of red an they flick a way an sunly I no.
Mindreading a gen Finn he mutters like hes tired like its a question he all ready noes the anser to.
Pas staring at the treetops. Some things happend I no it.
He sighs Finn I got some sad news. It flashes inside me wat it is an then the black birds flapping in my chest.
Snowy I breath.
Pa nods Hes dead. I close my eyes. Sorry Finn I dint mean it to happen I left all the traps near the woods but he musta gon too far. His words kinda fade.
*
My hands in Pas an weare walking to gether cross the slope. Its not far but it feels like weare walking a longtime some how. We go past Alices field which all ways looks emty an rong to me without her sun flowers. Then weare in a shadowy part the grass long an I can see his wite fur like a shock in a prest down hollow. I bend closer an see him curld up like hes a sleep. Snowy. Theres blood on one paw an his mouths open like he got stuck in mill of a yawn but wen I touch his side its warm an the furs soft. I gin to stroke him half specting to hear his purr but theres only the birds an Goldys panting an my own duum duum. Snowys lost his duum duum long with his purr.
My I-balls itch an I rub em till all I sees bright stars an flames. Pa whispers Ahm sorry Finn some where bove me. I had to put him out his misry he says an his big hand gentles the back of my head. My face creases up then an the tears come down so hot an fast its like my eyes are poring blood. An my body shivring like in winter an my mouth making a noise I cant stop like ohnohnohno. Pa hols me tight from behind an says my name. Goldy sniffs an whimpers he noes some things rong.
Weare like this for a wile an then Pa lets me go. He rubs my hair an bends down over Snowy. He loosens the trap an picks up the wite body an passes it to me. Snowys not Snowy any mor. Its jus the body he used to wear. Its heavyern I spected an pletely stiff but I hold on to it the tears coming softer now an landing in the fur making lil grey circles. I can harly breath my nose is so glued with snot.
