Some Fine Day (12 page)

We wade into the shallows and Nileen demonstrates a couple of casts, swinging the net with both hands and letting the weights carry it out. Then she walks backwards with the drawstring over her shoulder until it cinches shut. A few others are also fishing in the surf a ways down the beach. Nileen points to a slender girl, about our age, with honey brown skin and lots of short braids. Even at a distance, with the sun in my eyes, I can tell she’s extraordinarily pretty. Something in the way she holds herself, every movement precise and graceful.

“That there’s Fatima,” Nileen says. “Lisa’s kid. Dad died of bone-rot when she was a baby. Well, she’s the reason we got Bob.”

I watch closely as Nileen hurls the net in a soaring arc, try to memorize what’s happening with her arms and legs and hands. “She gave me clothes,” I say. “So what’s the story?”

“You don’t know?” Nileen says, clearly relishing a new person to gossip with. “Here, hold it like this.” She reels in the net and hands it to me. “Now throw as hard as you can, it’s heavier than it looks. . . Not bad. Try again, with your legs a little farther apart. . . Anyway, Bob’s only been with us four years. He used to be one of the Lord’s Redeemers. They’re bad juju. Recruit kids to raid other groups. They beat ’em and drug ’em up and whatnot till they’ll do anything they’re told. Till they get so brainwashed they like it.”

Nileen casts the net and this time she lets it settle into a wide circle on the water and waits.

“Where do they find the kids?” I ask.

“When they hit a camp, they kill all the grownups and take the ones under twelve,” she says matter-of-factly. “Well, they hit us one day. Snuck up in the fog. We was getting our asses kicked pretty bad when Bob sees Fatima and it’s like love at first sight or something. Even at fifteen he was huge. Almost as big as he is now. His mates wanted to grab her but he wouldn’t let no one near her. Killed a dozen men that day, none of ’em ours.” Nileen hauls on the drawstring and I see flashes of silver in the depths. “Finally, his mates broke and ran. Captain said he could stay. Some weren’t crazy about that but no one cared to speak against him. He’s dead loyal to her now.”

“What about Fatima?” I ask. “How’d she feel about that?”

Nileen sucks her teeth as we pluck a dozen fish from the net and drop them in the bucket. The littlest ones she tosses back. Then she shows me how to hang the net for drying.

“She don’t fancy him if that’s what you mean. But he saved her life. I don’t think she’ll ever forget that.”

“So what? He just moons around after her, knowing she’ll never love him back?”

“Yeah, basically.” Nileen points to the bucket. “You’re the newbie, you get to carry it to camp.”

“Well, that’s pretty pathetic,” I say, hoisting the bucket and wincing at the burn in my shoulder. “About Bob, I mean.”

“Yep.”

The sun’s low on the horizon as we walk into the trees. I’m suddenly exhausted and can’t wait to topple onto my cot. It seems like weeks since I’ve stood on my feet for more than a couple of hours.

“Well, you sure pumped me for information today,” Nileen remarks as we enter the camp.

“I so didn’t,” I mumble, stifling a yawn. “You volunteered everything.”

“Whatever. Tomorrow you’re telling me what
I
want to know. Like all the fancy food you pikas get and. . . other stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t know. Real houses. Pretty clothes. Hot tubs.”

“Hot tubs?” I start to laugh.

“Yeah.” She glares at me defensively. “I read about ’em in a book.”

“OK, OK.” I drop the bucket by the mess tent. “I’ll tell you all about my life of luxury tomorrow. Ever heard of a mani-pedi?”

Nileen comes to my tent later and tries to get me to eat with the crew but I pretend to have a headache. I’m starting to like her and I don’t want to.

When night falls, my surface sickness comes back with a vengeance. It’s funny, but the thing that makes me feel better isn’t the womb-like tunnels and caverns of home. Instead, I pull the blanket over my head and imagine in I’m in the cockpit of a British-made Hawker Nimrod fighter. With my eyes shut tight, I see green fields of alfalfa below, winding country roads with white fencing and mottled black dairy cows. Then the sea, blue and endless. And beyond, only the gentle curve of the Earth.

Not surprisingly, what began as a military-run project gave rise to a rigid social and economic hierarchy. The most notable example of this is Raven Rock, which in many ways came to resemble the ancient city-state of Sparta.

I’m waiting under the tree the next day when Bob, Nileen and Ezzie arrive for class. I guess Matty had second thoughts once she realized it was full contact. They’re all walking stiffly, and I remember what it was like for me the first year at the Academy, when I’d go to bed crying every night, so sore I could barely hobble to the bathroom to pee. I was only eight.

“You ready?” I ask as we warm up.

Nileen gives me a dark look. “Dunno, boss. I got knocked down about a hundred times yesterday.”

“Today it’ll only be ninety-nine,” I say. “The main thing is you keep getting up. Now give me a hundred push-ups.”

Nileen doesn’t answer, largely because she can't breathe..

We cover the same ground as yesterday. It’ll be a long time before they move on to anything more advanced. I make a point of praising Bob when it’s due and making sure everyone gets their fair share of being the crash dummy. About halfway through class, I notice the captain and Will across the clearing, watching us. They’re talking quietly together and I’d give almost anything to hear what they’re saying but I have to pretend to ignore them. Frustration makes me push my students harder than I should, and I hear Ezzie cursing under her breath as she stumbles away.

As it turns out, my fears are grounded. The two of them have been plotting against me. Moments after I dismiss class, they walk over, the captain smirking, Will impassive as usual.

“How’s it going, Nordqvist?” Banerjee inquires. Her mouth is smiling while her black eyes dissect me, examine the pieces, and put me back together again.

“Just fine, ma’am,” I say.

“So glad to hear it. If I were you, I’d be getting a bit bored, restless even.”

“No ma’am. Frankly, I couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend my vacation.”   

She barks out a laugh. “Good.” Leans toward me. “Because I’ve been thinking. It’s time you start contributing even more to the community. We don’t need dead wood around here.”

I brace myself for latrine duty or some other odious task no one else wants.

“I know you were casting with Nileen yesterday but I’ve decided it’s a pity to waste your pika education on manual labor. So here’s the deal. Will’s volunteered to teach you some rudimentary physic skills. You’re lucky we’d just requisitioned supplies when you were hurt. But most medical treatment is undertaken with herbs and plants. Will is an expert in their identification and usage, and you will help him on his scouting trips in the jungle.”

I can tell from the way she said “volunteered” that she really meant “been ordered”, and wonder if latrine duty wouldn’t be less unpleasant.

“We’ll shift your classes to afternoons. Is this arrangement acceptable?” Banerjee’s tone makes it clear that this is not a question.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Have a pleasant day, Nordqvist.”

“I’ll come an hour after dawn,” Will says. “Please be ready.”

I check that no one is looking and make a horrible face at his back.

The next morning, Will walks into my tent. He doesn’t say good morning or anything at all, just dumps a pair of muddy hiking boots on the ground and walks out.

We’re off to a promising start, I think as I lace them up. They’re a little loose, but I know from experience that’s far better than too tight.

Outside, he hands me a backpack, and starts walking into the woods. He’s tall, with long legs, and I have to jog to keep up.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Up the mountain.”

“Thanks. I never would have figured that out.”

We slog through the undergrowth, crossing shallow streams and steadily ascending towards the higher ground in the island’s center. He pauses occasionally and plucks a flower or leaf to stow in his pack.

“
Cassia angustifolia
,” Will says, showing me a handful of yellow blossoms. “Also called senna.”

“What do you use that for?”

“It has laxative properties, among other things.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” I say perkily.

“Too late for that.”

“Oh, my God. Did you just make a joke?”

“No.”

Will sets a hard pace, but I keep up without too much trouble. I think this surprises him a little, though it’s hard to tell since he’s got his actuary face on. At some point, we stop and eat lunch on a shaded hilltop. I open my backpack and find a crab salad thing that’s a refreshing break from the usual gruel.

“So what were you doing on the surface?” he asks.

“Holiday,” I mumble with my mouth full. “With my family.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Only child.”

“Your parents. Did they. . .?” He looks away, seeming to regret asking.

“They’re OK. They escaped in a mole. I got left behind.”

Will drinks some water, then hands me the bottle. He has nice teeth, improbably white and even.

“Did you go the surface a lot?”

“It was my first time. Talk about unlucky.” I beam my best fake smile at him.

“But why go at all?” he says. “Don’t you have everything you need down there?”

I shrug. “I guess so. But it’s not the same. I mean, we don’t have all this.” I open my arms to indicate the trees, the grass, the sky. “I’d never seen the sun before.”

“That’s crazy.” Will leans back against a boulder. “Where does the air come from?”

“We have ventilation tubes that bring cooler air from the surface into the prefectures and bullet train tunnels. They’re booby-trapped, for obvious reasons.”

“Are there farms?”

“Of course. We use hydroponic agriculture. It’s a way of growing crops without soil.”

“How do the plants photosynthesize if there’s no sun?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I say.

“I’m a physic. That’s what we do.”

“OK, OK. Fluorescent grow lights.”

He grills me for the rest of the afternoon until I’m forced to remind him that
he’s
supposed to be teaching
me
.

“The captain sent you to check me out, didn’t she?” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “Admit it.”

“What? No.” He flushes and I know I’m right.

“You think I want to be here? You think I’m some kind of spy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Look, I didn’t even know you people existed until a couple weeks ago. In school, they told us everyone was dead. That we were the only survivors. Now I’m stuck up here.” Lightning flickers, thunder booms, and the skies suddenly open up. “And it’s pouring!”

“Would you calm down please?”

I don’t answer, just turn and stomp down the mountain.

Now we’re even.

There are no clocks or calendars, so in my mind, I start dividing the days into morning, noon, and rain. Apparently, the region once known as Virginia has a monsoon season and we’re in the middle of it. This makes it harder to tell if a hypercane is coming because the barometers are up and down all the time.

The best thing about the rain is there’s plenty of fresh water, but the food is still meager, mostly vegetable soup with whatever else turns up, usually seaweed and small portions of fish. They keep four dairy cows and a few chickens, with a strict rotating schedule for who gets the eggs. I think with longing of the synth meat sandwich Will gave me on the ship.

I think I would literally kill someone for a piece of fruit.

The supplies are weirdly random. Like, I ate breakfast this morning with a gold-plated spoon, but there’s no salt or pepper. Toothpaste, but no toothbrushes. We use twigs instead, which works better than you’d think.

After a few days, my classes start to acquire an audience. Teenaged boys, no surprise there. Girls fighting girls has some kind of universal appeal that transcends race, caste or culture. Girls fighting Bob is probably a draw too. Eventually, one of them gets dared to sign up, a moonfaced kid with an unpronounceable name whose ancestors probably hailed from Eastern Europe somewhere, when there still was an Eastern Europe. He turns out to be a quick study, and doesn’t seem to mind getting dumped repeatedly in the mud.

Soon two more boys join in, and then the whole lot. Some more girls too. After a while, men and women in their early twenties show up, wanting to know why their snot-nosed siblings are suddenly getting the better of them.

We fight with our hands and feet, and we fight with sticks. I teach them how to neutralize guns and knives. The method you learn at the Academy has nothing to do with style or grace. It’s based on disabling your opponent as brutally and quickly as possible. Nileen is my best student, so I’ve promoted her to helping teach some of the rookies in small groups. I’m trying to condense their training so they learn enough to defend themselves in a real fight if the mercs hit us. I don’t know how much time we have here. Charlie says the storms always come, eventually.