Chapter 8
EIGHT
I couldn’t stay long with Zina, since the rest of our community arrived. The medical ward became too flooded with people, and they needed every spare inch of space.
My uncle, aunt, and cousins stayed with Zina and Nico, but Jessie, Robert, Bea and I took our leave. I wanted to check on my parents, in any case, and Jessie and Robert went to locate their families.
My heartbeat quickened as I witnessed the sheer number of people in the hallways now—the space of those who had been lying down had been encroached upon, so much that they could hardly rest on the floor without risk of being trampled.
People darted in and out of the various wards, trying to locate friends and family members.
I held Bea close to me as we shuffled through the crowds, my heart aching at the distress on our people’s faces.
We, as a group, had always been strong. Resilient. Unfazed—by whatever nature threw at us.
Now, I saw fear and broken spirits.
And I could tell most already sensed there was no going back after this. No returning to that jungle. No returning home.
How could we really? I had to confront the issue myself. Anna had said that Fairwell had limited resources, and that those who wanted permanent use of those resources needed to be a positive contribution to their society.
“It’s how we have survived and thrived for so long.”
It would be foolish to think they would be willing to stretch those resources across—who knew how many miles of ocean—to help us live permanently and safely in our jungles, guarded from any future nomad attacks.
It had taken two of Fairwell’s extravagant hover ships to fend off those aggressors.
And without that ridiculous level of defense, we would never be able to sleep at night—from the trauma of what we’d experienced—even if there was something left to return to. It would no longer feel like home.
It felt like it had stolen something from me by coming here, something precious. It had invaded our privacy, our sacred space. The thought I’d had, when I first saw that the crawling metallic beast had followed us back to our base, came rushing back.
It had stolen something. Something both sacred and precious. And now I couldn’t believe there was any way to get it back.
Tears stung my eyes as I stepped into one ward after another, searching for my parents among the sea of heads. I tried to bite back the tears, but Bea noticed.
“What’s wrong, Tani?” she asked, wide-eyed.
I choked. “Nothing, Bea. It’s just… dusty in here.”
It was my sister who spotted my parents. They lay on beds next to each other in room seven. Someone had helped them change out of their old clothes, and now they wore cotton gowns. They had been given new, sturdier casts to support their injuries.
I lowered myself to my mother’s level. I leaned in to kiss her cheek and pressed my cheek against hers. Tears threatened to fall again.
“Did they examine you both?” I managed, sucking in a breath.
I felt my mother’s jaw clench, and I raised my head.
“Yes,” my father said, his expression worryingly grim. “They did a full examination of both of us and it’s not good. We both have fractured arms and legs, and your mother suffered a fracture in the neck from the fall.”
“They’re hoping it won’t have long-term effects on mobility, though,” my mother added quickly, noting the growing horror on my and Bea’s faces.
“But realistically,” my father continued, “we won’t be able to walk properly for a long time.”
The pain and trauma I saw in their eyes pulled me down like an iron weight. The only positive thought I could muster at that moment was that they were, at least, alive.
I leaned back, looked around the room, and wondered what the collective damage had been to our community. I thought of the question I feared to ask.
“Did anyone die?” I asked softly.
There was a long silence from my parents as they looked at one another.
“According to one of the nurses,” my father said, “five hundred and twenty-three of us made it back alive.”
“Who got left behind?” I whispered.
My mother’s eyes became glassy. “Not left behind, but… Mr. Sturridge. He passed away on the ship.”
Her voice broke, and tears returned to my eyes. I’d looked up to him as a grandfather since I was a child, after my own died in a construction accident. He had been so kind, so warm, so giving in everything he did. I couldn’t imagine not seeing him again. I never even got the chance to say goodbye.
“I need to go outside,” I stammered, and my parents nodded in understanding.
I left Bea with them and hurried out the door, seeking the staircase. I tried to adopt tunnel vision and block out everything around me, every pale, anxious face, every infant cry and fearful whisper. I focused on the bright world that I knew lay beyond that peeling front door.
I collided with something hard and unyielding the moment I reached the doorway. I’d been moving too fast to notice the towering, broad-shouldered man in a blue uniform entering at the same time. The pile of gowns he was carrying slipped from his arms and scattered across the floor.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, crouching to help him gather them.
“Just gowns,” he muttered, his voice a low baritone.
As I handed the clothing back to him, our eyes met.
His were a bluish jade, the kind of color you only catch for a second in the forest canopy.
Strange. Striking. He didn’t look much older than me—early twenties, maybe—but there was something seasoned about him.
And despite the uniform, he’d made it his own: jacket unzipped halfway to reveal an off-white shirt beneath, sleeves rolled up to his sun-burnished elbows, like he couldn’t quite be bothered with regulations.
When he took the pile of gowns from my hands, my eyes dropped to the bronze ring on his thumb.
I couldn’t help wondering, now almost unbearably, what those rings meant, and why they came in different colors.
I opened my mouth to ask, but he was already on his feet, moving with surprising speed as he disappeared through the door.
I sighed and exited the building. I returned my focus to the outside world, on the sunlight glancing off the dull platform and the glistening waves surrounding us.
It was already hot out here, but the breeze made it tolerable as I descended the stairs.
Only one of the three hover crafts remained, parked in the far corner of the platform, and other than a handful of our people who had the same idea as me, to come out and breathe, the islet was bare.
I walked toward an empty corner, wanting to be closer to the water. The sound of the lapping waves was calming, encouraging me to take deep breaths.
I reached the edge and rested my hands on the cold metal barrier. Fixing my eyes on the flowing blue depths, I felt the bullet-hard knot in my stomach loosen ever so slightly. Nature had that effect on me.
It’s… okay. It’s going to be… okay.
I stood there for ten minutes, eventually closing my eyes and just trying to be still. To rekindle the strength I knew I had.
But I also knew what I needed was positive action. If we couldn’t go back, we had to move forward—with purpose and dignity. That was the only way we could ever begin to pick up our broken pieces, heal from what we’d lost.
And that meant we needed to know a lot more about this place.
Much of my nerves came from missing details; what this nation truly stood for, and how we might find our places in it. Unknowns made everything more frightening. So that had to be the first step: learning more about Fairwell, and what it meant to be a settler here.
A familiar voice traveled across the platform. I turned and gazed toward the hover ship. It was Anna. She paced up and down in front of the ship, while talking to someone via her communication device.
Her voice sounded tight. “Yes. I know, I know. I haven’t gotten around to it, but I will. Yes, it’s on my list of things to do. I know, Dad. It’s fine, I’ll get it done in time. Okay. Love you.”
I frowned as she turned to face the hover ship, shut off her device and reattached it to her belt. She hadn’t noticed me yet, but when she headed back toward the aircraft’s stairs, I knew this was my opportunity.
“Hey, Anna!” I called, breaking into a sprint toward her.
She stalled halfway up the steps and turned to me. She definitely looked stressed, her short hair sticking up, as though she’d been running her hands through it. Still, she mustered a smile for me and traced her way back down the steps.
“You found Zina, I take it?” she asked genially.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, panting as I drew to a stop in front of her. I wet my lips and paused, trying to find the right words. “Listen, Anna… I wanted to talk to you about a potential scenario, in which we decided it’s not feasible for us to live out there, isolated and alone for any longer.”
“I see,” Anna said slowly, frowning down at me. “Are you trying to say you’ve decided you want to become settlers here?”
“Well, I—we haven’t had time to hold a meeting or anything, and I certainly can’t speak for everyone, but I sense that’s going to be the consensus, once we’ve had time to talk. I just...” I exhaled in frustration. “I can’t see returning as an option.”
“Well, I think it’s sensible myself,” Anna said, thoughtfully. “It’s the decision that I would certainly make, if I were in your shoes.”
“So,” I continued slowly, “I… we would need to understand how our lives would change. We would need to know more about this place, and how we would fit in, what roles we would all play and how we would maintain ourselves. Is there someone we can—”
“Yes, naturally,” Anna cut in. “If you’re seriously considering staying then, of course, we will need to give you all a formal introduction.
In fact,”—she rubbed her chin thoughtfully—“how about we arrange a little introductory session this evening? I’ll come along with a couple of my colleagues, and we’ll set up a presentation out here in the fresh air.
There’s no rain due tonight, based on the latest weather report. How does that sound?”
“That sounds good,” I replied, not sure what else to say. “We’d all appreciate it, because, one way or another, we obviously can’t stay on this small island forever.” I gestured toward the old building.
“Of course,” she said, glancing at it fleetingly, before switching her eyes back to the ship. “So, how does 6:30 this evening, sound? It’ll give your people time to get treated and generally recoup from the journey.”
“I’ll tell everyone 6:30,” I responded.
Then my eyes fell again to the golden ring on her thumb. “Also, do you mind telling me what those rings are for?” The question had been seriously bugging me.
She chuckled. “That’s best saved for the presentation this evening, hon.” She reached out and patted my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, then returned to the steps.
As she climbed, she reached for her communication device again. “Hayden, are you finished in there? I’m about to leave.”
She had barely stepped inside the aircraft when the main doors to the building creaked open behind us.
The man I’d collided with earlier appeared, descending the stairs at a jog.
His teal gaze caught mine for the briefest moment as he passed—steady, unreadable—before he vaulted up the ramp and disappeared through the hatch.
I drew a steady breath, then stepped back as the hover ship rumbled to life. Its frame gave a shudder before lifting off the platform, rising into the air with a low whine as it veered out over the water—heading back toward Founders’ Isle.
As I made my way back toward the building, the nerves still lingered, but at least we were finally going to get some answers.
And after that… well, I wasn’t ready to go there yet.
One step at a time.