Читать книгу After the Flood - Kassandra montag - Страница 20

I CAUGHT THE back of Daniel’s shirt, braced against the gunwale, and yanked him hard. We both stumbled backward and fell to the deck. Blood streamed from his arm, running along the cracks between the wood.

“Pearl! Grab the fabric!” I shouted.

I couldn’t see the wound past the blood. Skin and tendons hung from his arm. Had he severed an artery? Was the bone crushed?

Pearl ran to the deck cover and returned with the fabric I’d gotten in Harjo. I pressed it against his arm.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told him, my own blood pulsing in my ears. “We just need to stop the bleeding.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. His face was pale and his breath came in quick shallow bursts.

“Pearl, hold this here and apply pressure,” I said. She held the fabric against the wound as I took off my belt and hooked it around his upper arm, above his elbow. I cut a new hole in the leather with my knife, tightened the belt, and fastened it in place.

I leaned back on my heels to get a better look at him and laid my hand on his shoulder. “Breathe,” I said. “Try to stay calm.”

The sound of wood on rock filled the air, a rumble growing into a dull roar. The boat rocked abruptly, knocking me to my side.

Daniel’s eyes flew open. “Mountain. Mountain!” he said frantically.

I leapt up, ran to the stern, and looked over the gunwale. The tops of mountains glimmered just below the surface, pocked with crevices and peaks, small blooms of coral sprouting in the shadows. We were running aground on mountaintops.

I turned the tiller, yanking the rudder as far to the right as it would go, and felt the boat start to shift. A strong wind caught the sail and we surged forward. Beyond the bow, several peaks protruded a few feet above the water. We needed to turn farther to the right, and faster.

“The sail!” I called to Pearl, but she was already at the block, working the rope through. I joined her, pulling the rope, fumbling to release a knot.

Pearl’s hands shook and tears streamed down her face. “We’re going to be in the water,” she cried.

“We’re going to be okay,” I told her.

I dropped the knot, pulled my knife from its sheath, and cut the rope, releasing the sail so it let out, bearing us away from the wind.

But it was too late. The rocky tip of a mountain stood a foot above the water’s surface and was only twenty feet in front of us. I grabbed Pearl and pulled her close.

Bird tilted to the left as we ran over the mountain, water sloshing over the deck and Daniel rolling toward the gunwale. Pearl and I tumbled against the mast and clung to it. The boat slid over the mountain, the sound of cracking wood thundering around us.

The hull hit the water again with a thud and Bird almost leveled. I ran to Daniel, pulling him up beneath his armpits and propping him against the gunwale. He clutched his arm against his chest and gritted his teeth. Bird started to lean to the right. We were taking on water. I stood up and scanned the horizon, hoping to see land, but found none.

“Pearl, grab the bucket and a torch,” I said.

I opened the latch door in the deck and peered into the cavity between the hull and deck. Interlaced boards blocked my view, but I could hear the rush of water. Pearl handed me the torch, a branch with a piece of fabric wrapped around one end and a plastic bag over it to keep it dry. I ripped the plastic bag off the end and Pearl struck her flint stone against it.

I jumped through the hole, my feet hitting water when I landed. The flame only illuminated a foot around me, casting deep shadows between the interlaced boards. To the right I saw the hole, near the bottom right of the hull. The water inside was already two feet high. We could sink in an hour or less.

I pulled myself out of the hole and grabbed a bucket from Pearl. She’d already tied a string to the handle, and I dropped it into the hole and pulled it up, water dripping and sloshing over the rim.

“Pearl, while I haul water, you pack food and Daniel’s instruments into our bags. And bottle some of the water from the cistern.”

“It won’t all fit.”

“Don’t take the flour then.”

“Okay,” Pearl said. She turned and disappeared beneath the deck cover, dragging out bags and tossing them on the deck in front of her.

I dropped the bucket again and again, my arms and back beginning to ache.

“Shit,” I muttered. I wasn’t buying us any time. I tossed the water over the side of the boat, and it caught the light in a bright curve, sparkling like crystal. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them. Bird, I thought, thinking of Grandfather’s hands as he made her, his callused palms running over the wood.

I WATCHED BIRD sink as I clung to Daniel’s raft. Daniel and Pearl sat on top of the raft, clutching the sides so they wouldn’t be knocked off with each wave. There was only room for two without it sinking; I put Pearl on so she’d be safe and Daniel on so he’d stop pissing me off by bleeding into the water. We each wore a backpack stuffed with supplies.

Bird pitched to the side and seemed to hold steady as the water filled her. I felt that the water was filling me, its weight inescapable. But then a gurgling sound came from Bird, water pulling her down, and she disappeared from sight like a coin dropped in a wishing well. I sucked in air. Bird was the last thing tying me to my mother and grandfather, and without her I felt suspended, cut loose from them. I stifled a sob and clutched the raft more tightly.

I held my knife in my other hand, scanning the water for the shark.

“It will wait till we tire,” Daniel said, watching me, concern softening his voice.

I glared at him. You’ll tire first, I thought, half tempted to pull him into the water if I saw the shark again. “I told you not to reach for the sailfish,” I snapped.

“I told you we should’ve stayed on course and gone straight to port,” he snapped back. “Navigating this close to the coastline is impossible.”

A small strangled sound came from Pearl, a sob caught in her throat. She hadn’t stopped shaking since the first collision.

I reached my hand up to grasp her white knuckles. “Pearl, sweetie. We’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want you in the water. The shark,” she cried.

“I’ve got my knife,” I said, holding the blade up so it glinted in the sun. I forced a smile and squeezed her hand. “We’ll be fine.”

Pearl’s tears fell on my hand over hers. A wave splashed in my face and I swallowed salt water and felt rage unfurl inside me. I cursed myself. I never should have let him on board.

All my tackle and bait, most of the food stores, the fresh water in the cistern. All sunk, drifting to the seafloor. Even if we made it to land, I’d have nothing to trade for food or new fishing supplies.

“Myra, I see something,” Daniel said.

“Shut up.”

“Myra—”

“I said shut up,” I said, clutching my knife tighter.

“It’s a ship,” he said, reaching into a bag for the binoculars.

“Give them to me.”

I peered through the binoculars, scanning the horizon until I landed on a ship. It was larger than a fishing boat, about the size of a merchant vessel. I squinted through the binoculars, searching for a flag.

“I don’t know who they are,” I said. Strangely, they seemed to be sailing straight toward us, though I was doubtful they could see us yet. They seemed almost three miles from us, and we were such a small speck in the vast sea. I doubted they could see us unless they were searching for us.

I gnawed on my lip, already dry from salt and sun. I gazed toward the ship, only able to see a small shadow on the horizon without the binoculars. The ship could save us or condemn us to a worse fate than taking our chances on the open sea.

“You should wave them down,” Daniel said, reaching into the backpack for our white flag.

“We don’t know who they are,” I repeated. “I’d rather face my chances on the open sea than chained in the hull of a raider ship.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Daniel said.

I glared at him. Worth the risk for him, I thought. He wouldn’t survive on the open sea long, but Pearl and I might. At least for a few days, and if the currents were right, maybe we’d make it to the coast.

He seemed to read my thoughts. “You two won’t make it long. We’re still several miles from the coast. This isn’t well-traveled territory; someone else won’t come along.”

I glanced back at the ship. I remembered talking with my mother up in the attic, sitting on the top step, as Grandfather had fitted Bird’s joints. We talked about the latest reports we’d heard, how far the water had come, what buildings in town to avoid. Jacob was gone, meeting up with some of his new friends I didn’t know. Row carried a pail of water past us and set it next to the others, clustered around the perimeter of the attic. The city water had been shut off the week before and we were collecting rainwater in all our buckets and bowls. Row knelt in front of the bucket and leaned forward, grinning into her reflection.

“Hi,” she said to herself and giggled.

Grandfather had smiled at her and patted the side of Bird. “She’ll be a good boat to start out in,” he’d said.

I was surprised when he said this—I never imagined we’d leave Bird, not after it’d taken so much work to build. I was so young, I wasn’t accustomed to loss and impermanence the way Grandfather was. I hadn’t known how to expect it or accept it.

My heartbeat quickened and I tried to breathe deeply. No choice but to move forward, I told myself.

“Hand me the fishing wire,” I said. I pulled my torso up on the raft and treaded water. I pierced the fishing wire through the fabric, tying it around the oar to make a flag.