His father was missing.
That on its own could have meant any number of things had happened. He might be traveling farther off shore in search of fish, or he might be dead. Either way, there was nothing Katale could do about it.
But now, others from his flotilla had gone missing.
One by one, all males from his flotilla had disappeared.
Unlike his father, who still truly believed that the good and evil sea spirits ruled their destiny, and that nothing could be done to influence one’s life, Katale had learned to speak English, and had taken a job guiding tourists to visit his community. Over the past two years, he’d learned just how much farther the world extended outside the Mergui Archipelago.
His young mind had absorbed the information like a sponge. He’d taken the time to learn to read. It was difficult, and so far, he’d only progressed to the size books that a small child might consume, but already it had taught him things about the world.
It was indeed filled with good and evil.
But those spirits weren’t just found beneath the sea. People were good and evil. Even non-people, something called countries, and powerful organizations that ruled people could be good and evil. The Myanmar Navy sometimes helped his people, while at other times, its people stole from them, and burned their boats.
When his father first disappeared, he thought it could have been caused by any number of unfortunate events that went hand in hand with being Moken. But when every one of his father’s friends disappeared after his father had gone out to gather the sea gypsies in order to determine what to do about the strange glass dome beneath the seabed. Katale became certain the events were related.
He thought of the strange drawing on the side of the canister the man was carrying inside the dome. There was something about it that was important. He’d shown the drawing to everyone he knew, but no one could tell him what it meant.
That’s why he was heading to Phang Nga Bay.
He was looking for a Thai man named Eamon, who currently had a job paddling kayaks for tourists through the Phang Nga Bay’s limestone caves and lagoons. Eamon’s Thai name translated to, Rich Guardian. And in many ways, that was what the man had become to Katale. Eamon had once traveled to America, and knew more about people and the world than any other person alive. If anyone could help him find his father and what had happened to the older men of his flotilla, it would be Eamon.
He pulled out of the wind, heading into the nearby lee of the white cliffs, where a couple large sea eagles soared on the thermals. At the base of the cliffs, a series of tourist boats were tied up together — all traditional Thai long-tails with their most defining feature being that of a car engine mounted on an inboard turret-like pole that could rotate through 180 degrees, allowing steering by thrust vectoring.
Katale greeted the first pilot he spotted. “Hello.”
The man smiled, eying him cautiously. “Hello.”
“Do you know where Eamon is working today?”
The stranger shook his head, as if to say he didn’t know him.
“Please. I just need to talk to him.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know him.”
Katale turned to keep heading south along the bay, but a pilot from a long-tailed boat shouted, “Eamon’s working at Koh Phanak.”
“Thank you.”
Katale rowed out into the wind and opened his square sail of woven pandanus leaves. It unfurled and caught the wind, pulling him swiftly toward Koh Phanak.
By midday, he had reached it.
The entire region was littered with startling limestone karsts. Tunnels, funnels, channels, and caves all honeycombed the island.
He checked the row of long-tail boats, but no one could point him in the direction of his friend. He tied his kabang to an overhanging piece of limestone, and waited. If Eamon was taking tourists into the cave system, he would have to come out through the main cavern.
An hour went by. Most tourists in their inflatable kayaks returned from their day trips, but Katale didn’t spot his friend.
A big powerboat with twin outboard engines roared across the bay heading toward him. Its pilot brought the engines to an idle, and the boat meandered toward the cave system, before pulling up alongside his kabang.
The man had very pale skin and blond hair. He stared at Katale, scrutinizing him. “Are you Katale?”
Katale stood up. “Yes?”
“Is your father a Moken leader from the North-Wind flotilla?”
Katale’s eyes beamed wide. “Do you know my father?”
“Know him?” The man’s evil eyes narrowed, and a vicious, thin-lipped smile tortured the villainous face with a grin. “Hell, I was the guy who shot him!”
Katale didn’t have a chance to respond.
The stranger withdrew a handgun and fired directly at him.
Katale dived into the green water beneath the boat. He swam straight down, disappearing into the murky waters at the cavern’s opening. Shots ripped through the water above, losing their momentum, and falling aimlessly beside him.
He kicked hard, swimming beneath the lip of the overhanging cavern, which extended deep into the water, before swimming up the other side.
Katale took in a deep breath.
Outside the cavern someone shouted, “He’s still alive. Go after him!”
“Are you kidding me, the tide’s rising, we’ll drown!” came someone’s reply.
The man said, “Go after him, or they will make you wish you’d drowned.”
Katale kept swimming deeper into the karst passageway. At low tide tourists were taken into these tunnels in kayaks by the droves. At high tide the entire labyrinth of underground passageways, drainage systems, and sinkholes were flooded through.
He kicked his feet and swam harder.
The tunnel was nearly three hundred feet long. If it wasn’t quite high tide yet, he would make it. If it was, then there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way even he could hold his breath that long.
He swam through the next passageway, which opened up to a wider tunnel. Green stalactites had formed into organic sculptures and white stalagmites appeared ghost-like through the gloom. Above, he heard the flutter of nocturnal wings, as bats adjusted their positions.
Katale kept moving. There wasn’t much time. Behind him, he heard the sound of labored breathing and fear. It brought a smile to his lips. At least his pursuers weren’t going to have a good time of it. There was every chance that they, too, would drown with him.
The thought gave him confidence.
If he was going to die, so be it that the gods should take his attackers with him.
The limestone ceiling tapered downward, progressively reducing the remaining chamber of air, until it disappeared completely.
Katale took a couple deep breaths, and dived underneath.
The narrow passageway was now pitch dark, meaning he needed to run his hands along the slimy submerged walls to ensure he kept moving in the right direction. He kicked with his legs and the muscles in his chest burned, begging him to take another breath.
Light appeared up ahead, and he kicked harder, until the passageway opened up into a large hong — the remains of an ancient sinkhole.
Katale took another deep breath, followed by several more, as he caught his wind. The place was surrounded by near vertical white cliffs, upon which a thick jungle of dense vegetation clung and wild macaque crab-eating monkeys played.
Standing alone in the middle of the hong was a tall man — one of the biggest men he’d ever seen — and a beautiful woman with short brown hair. The two appeared to have been in the process of an intimate kiss, when they were startled by the intrusion.
The woman was the first to notice him. She smiled. It was impish and mischievous. Like she was caught, but it didn’t matter, because she would do it again if she was given the chance. She said, “Hi there.”