“Just like that?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“How do you think you were able to do that?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Okay, so if I understand correctly, you were able to listen and see what your brother experienced but you couldn’t alter or change anything that was happening?”
“That’s correct.”
“Was there anything of importance said?”
“Not really. Just that Maaka guy asking questions about Noah, and Max telling him how badass he thinks your husband is and basically trying to provoke him, I think. It was just a bunch of dumb macho bullshit.”
“What did he ask about Noah?” asks Evelyn, suddenly alarmed.
“It was nothing. It was just like,
who does that guy think he is
kinda thing.” Mia demonstrates by puffing out her chest and swinging her arms mockingly.
“Hmmm, I see. But how were you able to get out of Max’s head?”
“I’m not sure about that, either. When Maaka was walking away, I could see that Noah was trying to get my attention, and then the next thing I knew I was back to me again.”
“Have you tried to do it again?”
“I have actually, but I couldn’t and I don’t know why. It’s probably for the best though.”
“For the best? How do you mean?”
“Would
you
want to be in my brother’s head?”
“Good point.”
“I don’t know, maybe it was an anomaly and it will never happen again.”
Evelyn thinks otherwise but keeps it to herself. She’s battling her own demons. She struggles to accept what she has heard — a story that goes against everything she thinks she knows about reality.
How would Noah take this news?
He has always been open to outlandish possibilities, more so than she has, and while he prefers to know why things happen, he is also okay with life’s mysteries. But that has never sat well with her.
“Mia, would it be okay if I share this with Noah?”
“Yes, of course. I want you to.” She sighs. “I don’t want to have to explain this again, anyway. Although could you keep what I told you before a secret?”
“You mean about Atua?”
Mia nods and in an instant, Evelyn sees her as a young girl.
She’s just a child.
“Of course; that will be our little secret,” she says, flashing her the Lockheart wink and a smile.
“Thank you.” Mia sighs deeply as if a tremendous weight has been lifted. “This whole thing has been a nightmare. Max actually thinks I tried to kill myself before Atua saved me.”
“He does? Why on earth would he think that?”
“I’m not entirely sure. He is often confused.” Mia pauses, contemplating. “That’s not fair. He has every right to be confused. I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“You can’t beat yourself up about that now. All that matters is getting out of here alive. You will find the time to make things right with your brother then.”
“I hope so,” Mia says in a whisper.
Evelyn has another question, but hesitates to ask. In full scientist mode, she forces it. “Mia, have you ever tried going into anyone else’s subconscious?” Evelyn can scarcely believe the words leaving her lips, and she dreads the answer.
“I was afraid you were going to ask me that. I haven’t tried yet and, honestly, I’m not sure if I would want to.”
“I understand,” says Evelyn, relieved. “Quite frankly, I would have the same outlook.” Then, for the sake of both of their sanities, she changes the subject. “You shouldn’t worry yourself about Maaka. He wants the same the thing we all do, civilization and safety, nothing more, whatever misgivings you have about him. I kind of like the fellow myself.”
Mia’s face freezes in disgust. “Maaka? You actually
like
that guy? How is that even possible? You saw what he did to Hank, right?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think he’s a wee gruff, no doubt. But I do think there’s something interesting about him. There’s something to be said about someone who is so self-serving and uncompromising. I fear Noah has none of those qualities, and for that he has suffered.”
“Oh,” Mia blurts. “I think I understand.” But Evelyn knows that she doesn’t.
After hours of hiking, the group hunkers down on a grassy slope near a meandering stream to rest and drink their fill. It is a beautiful, warm day, and several people lie in the plush grass, surrounded by spring wildflowers, trying to squeeze in a mid-day nap. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, Maaka and Pango enter the scene, loud and disorderly, irritating those who pine for a few moments of peace.
The troublemakers stroll up to a prone Max, grab the canteen from his hand and proceed to guzzle its contents. In between gulps, the two splash one another soaking Max in the process. His face grows dark. “What the actual fuck?” he snaps, jumping to his feet and shoving Maaka into Pango. The provocation incenses the giant fisherman, who lunges toward Max, but Maaka stiff-arms his charge and settles Pango before snarking, “Easy mate, looks like we woke the sleeping Ashlander.”
Ashlander.
The derogatory term for the survivors of the massive volcanic blast that had sent the United States into the dark ages. While most North Americans had died during or soon after the eruption, the few who survived were refugees — if they were lucky. If they weren’t, they struggled on in a post-apocalyptic existence, reshuffled into the world order as nothing more than a fifth-world country.
“I’m not an Ashlander, you ignorant dick,” Max says through clenched teeth. “I live in England and, in case you didn’t get the memo, you and this whole miserable island are about to be covered in ash.”
“Quiet!” Noah barks, his voice cutting through the tension. His eyes are narrow and focused, as he approaches. Everyone watches on in shock as Noah orders, “Nobody move.” He slowly pulls out his hunting knife and then, like a bolt of lightning, hurls it at Maaka, whose eyes have grown wide with terror. The blade blurs past him before plunging into a giant pine, impaling an unsuspecting stoat between the eyes. The short-tailed weasel hangs lifelessly.
“Bingo!” Noah exclaims, bounding toward the fresh kill. The quarreling men stare at him, paralyzed by the sequence of events. “Shall we carry on?” asks Noah.
Evelyn immediately begins clapping her hands to encourage everyone to grab their gear and resume hiking. The others are unusually quick to fall in line.
Is that from fear
? Evelyn wonders. They come together in formation and, within minutes, they are back on the trail. As they set off, Atua approaches Max who is being consoled by Mia. Evelyn purposely lags behind them, in order to eavesdrop.
“I’m sorry about Maaka,” says Atua quietly. “My brother can be difficult, I know.”
“Difficult?” Mia interjects. “An ignorant bastard is more like it.” Her accusation causes Atua to laugh, further angering her. “Did I say something funny?”
Atua stops. “No, sorry. It’s just that there’s a lot of truth in that remark. More than you know.”
“How’s that?” demands Max, still fuming.
“Well, the truth is, Maaka really is a bastard. He’s actually my half-brother. He became part of our family when I was four years old and he was ten. His mother had died in a car accident and as my father’s illegitimate son and no other family, he came to live with us.”
“Are you telling us this so that we pity him?” Mia asks coldly.
“No, of course not. But Maaka has had a tough life. And we lost our father in the tsunami, along with our youngest brother and two cousins. All I ask is that you cut him some slack.”
“I am sorry for your loss. I really am,” Mia says. “But you and your rude brother are not the only ones who have suffered recently. Most of us here have lost a loved one and that can’t be an excuse for cruelty.”
Evelyn holds her tongue during the spirited back-and-forth. The talk of loss brings to mind her own painful memory of the loss that, to this day, causes her the greatest heartache whenever it surfaces.
It was January 1, 2018 — New Year’s Day — when Noah’s mother, Karen, broke the news. Evelyn was still reeling from the super-volcanic eruption in the United States, which had happened less than a week prior. In between sobs, Karen informed Evelyn that Jackson had died at sea while scuba diving off the coast of Majorca, a victim of an apparent stroke. While in the midst of a deep cavern dive, the Warden of the North and the Lion of the Sea was extinguished in an instant in the calm dark waters of the Mediterranean. Sir Admiral Jackson Leigh Lockheart, of the British Royal Navy, left behind legions who loved him and the country he had served proudly. At ninety-three, he died as he had lived, stretching the reaches of his own limits. When Evelyn heard the news, she dropped to her knees, the wind swept out of her. Overcome by emotion, she laid on the floor crying so helplessly that she could barely find the air to breath. He had meant far more to her than her own father. The devastation she felt at Jackson’s death was more pain than she could possibly bear; and she was filled with dread, knowing that she would be the one to give word to her husband.
Noah had already been dark for so many months, working undercover to orchestrate the daring missions that were tearing apart the infrastructure of the KOP. It wasn’t until a month later that Noah came out from hiding, and it was over a three-day leave that Evelyn informed him of his father’s passing. After completing a nine-month operation that had turned the tide of the war, Noah was completely exhausted and ill-prepared to receive such news. She watched in torment as her husband’s heart was ripped from him. She knew she would never forget the way his face burned red and then fell apart, as the cold reality of her words took hold. Evelyn could do nothing but hold her beloved Noah as he buried his head under her wing, sobbing.
Evelyn’s reverie is broken by Mia. “My God, Evelyn! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine dear. What is it?”
“Because....” Unable to speak, Mia reaches into her pocket for her compact mirror. She opens it and hands it to Evelyn.
Evelyn takes the mirror, filled with worry. Worry that turns to horror when she sees that her eyes are red and swollen and her face is soaked with tears. Embarrassed beyond words, all she can say is, “Oh my, will you look at that!”
Chapter 18
After a grueling day’s hike, the tired travelers collapse on a soft plateau of thick grass under an evening sky, marbled in pink, blue, and lavender. The plush bed provides a surprising amount of comfort, after crossing leagues of rough terrain. Fatigue and the realization that they are still two full days from the nearest town have taken their toll. As Noah carefully prepares a feast, their shrunken stomachs growl in anticipation.
A week ago, the thought of what they would eat in order to not starve would have sent most of them running from the dinner table in disgust; but today, anything remotely resembling food had been fair game. Fortunately for them, Noah can make almost anything taste delicious, thanks to his cache of spices, which enable him to concoct a savory meal fit for a king and his royal subjects. First, he slowly braises the weasel high above the flame, rotating it over and over on a wooden spit. He bastes it with a sauce of water, errvin flower, garlic, and pinches and thimbles of other riches. Then he stuffs the varmint with an array of arthropods of various sizes and colors, steamed to keep all of their nutrients packed in their soft malleable shells. Finally, he places the stuffed stoat atop even more creepy-crawlies in a black pan to which he adds a prepared stock of water, salt, pepper, rongoa powder, and black truffle oil and sets it to simmer for what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes. Their patience is soon rewarded with a hearty meal, and while the portions are small, it packs a wallop in flavor and protein that leaves a few of the refugees in a food coma around the fire. They stare into the dancing flames, too tired to move.
The others venture off into the pleasant evening, scattering across the banks of a wide, calm stream just a few paces from their campsite. Atua lies on his belly upon a diamond shaped rock, flanked by a standing Mia and a crouching Max, as he dangles a long flax leaf frayed in the middle that floats along the surface of the still water. Using an old Maori trick, he snares an unsuspecting eel with a lure constructed from pieces of stoat fat tangled in the shredded flax leaf. The catch elicits cheers from Max and Mia, and a friendly competition ensues as Hiroshi and Jacob try their hand at luring eels on the opposite side of the stream.
Elsewhere along the flooded banks, Maaka and Pango smoke cigarettes and curse in Maori, much to the delight of Alice Pearson, whose blonde locks bounce merrily, dancing in concert to her endless giggles. She appears to be preoccupied with Maaka, hanging on his every word, though he all but ignores the fair lady. Pango seems interested, however, informing young Alice on several occasions that she is “a fit bird” and inquiring whether she’s a “real blonde.”
Farthest from the campsite, Noah and Evelyn walk leisurely, engrossed in a conversation. As they wade through knee-high grass, Noah casually captures insects and stows them in his gunnysack for tomorrow’s breakfast, while Evelyn gives him grief for his earlier theatrics.
“I understand when you play the daredevil, as you are wont to do and have done for as long as I’ve known you. But what exactly was that little stunt with the knife? Fear and intimidation may have served you well on the battlefield, but Noah, you should know better. As Mia would say so eloquently, that was quite a load of macho bullshit you displayed back there.”