She set the monkey down, unslung her rifle, and switched the light back on. Then, picking up the pack she had left in the dirt, she took off for the catamaran.
Most of the gear would have to wait for later. First, she needed to check the condition of the boat, and then she must find a way to get it into the water.
The monkey followed her and climbed inside with her.
The distant cries of the beasts echoed through the afternoon as she checked the boat. Ducking into the cabin, she found out why it was in such good shape.
A corpse lay on a bunk, pistol in hand, and a hole in its skull. The skeletal remains were old but not ancient. This person had come here long after the war.
Ada looked at the controls. The boat had no engine, just a battery for the navigation system, which had a cracked screen. She doubted that it worked. Old-world technology had advanced to the point that a storage battery could hold its charge indefinitely, but it wouldn’t help if the GPS was shot.
The wails faded away as she worked for the next few hours to get the boat seaworthy. The monkey followed her, watching curiously as she went outside and started jamming boards under the stern. Using masts scavenged from other boats, she began to build a ramp down the sloping beach.
If all went to plan, the tide would come up and dislodge the sailboat enough that she could slide it down the ramp, into the water. Then she would use the rudders and the mainsail to guide it out to sea on the high tide—assuming, of course, that the sails weren’t in bad shape and that she could figure out how to rig them.
She walked over and went to work to haul out the buried sails. One needed patching, but if she could get the mainsail up, she could rig the other two once she was out to sea.
She returned to the cabin, which had seats and a table with loads of cabinets, some hanging open. Ignoring the gear inside, she went straight for the navigation system.
She played the flashlight over the controls. After fiddling with the various dials and toggle switches on the panel for an hour with no luck, she returned outside to listen for the beasts.
All she heard were chirping bugs and the soft lapping of wavelets on the sand. Satisfied she wasn’t being hunted, she went back to work, and two hours later, she had figured out how to get the mainsail up. The others would have to wait.
For now, she had done all she could to get the boat ready. Now the tide must do its part. If it came up high enough, it would lift the boat. Getting it through the surf was another question.
Ada took the pistol and dragged the corpse outside. She dug a grave, filled it with sand, and said a prayer for someone who had died in desolation and solitude.
Exhausted, she returned to the outcropping where she had left her gear and supplies. She loaded everything into the boat while the monkey sat on a crate inside the cabin, chewing happily on a piece of fish jerky.
“You are going to need a name,” Ada whispered. “I guess for now, I’ll call you Jo-Jo.”
The monkey swallowed, then just stared at her. Not at her, she realized. Its ears had picked up something that she heard a moment later.
A guttural roar in the distance raised the hair on her neck.
The monkey bolted into the tiny cabin and hid under the bunk.
Ada looked toward the decaying resorts beyond the beach, where the noise had come from. There was something else out there worse than Sirens and giant leeches.
Grabbing the hatch, she closed it and prayed. She could worry later about how to navigate the way home—right now she just needed to get them through the surf and away from this place.
From Magnolia’s balcony everything looked peaceful and serene. The whitecaps had settled, leaving the ocean glossy under a retreating sun.
A mauve skyline with streaks of magenta hypnotized her with its beauty. But this wasn’t the heaven they all thought it could be, and she was growing tired of trekking through hell to protect it.
Sky citizens and Cazadores had suffered in the ambush by the skinwalkers, and many of them would go to sleep tonight missing loved ones—in Rodger’s case, his parents. He sat on her bed now, head bowed, hands on his thighs. He wore plum trousers and a brown collared shirt he had bought from the trading rig last week.
Her white dress fluttered in the breeze. She had been saving it for Tin and Layla’s inevitable wedding, which everyone but Layla had seen coming.
Tonight, Magnolia would wear the dress to the memorial service for those lost in the attack. Grabbing the windowsill, she fended off a wave of dizziness. Her hearing was better, but her head pounded.
“Are you okay?” Rodger asked.
He glanced up, pushing his glasses up on his nose. A tear rolled down from one dark eye and vanished in his beard.
She sat down beside him and put her hand on his.
“I just took more medicine,” she said. “I’ll be okay; don’t worry about me.”
He looked down at his shoes.
“I can’t believe they’re both gone.”
She pulled his head over onto her shoulder.
“I’m so, so sorry.” She tried to smile, but it hurt her burned face. “You still have me.”
She looked at the wood carvings he had made for her over the years. The elephant and other animals on her nightstand were the only possessions besides her armor and blades that she actually cared about.
And Rodger was the only man she had ever…
“I love you, Rodger,” she blurted.
He pulled his head away, tilting it slightly.
“You’re my guy,” she said. “Seeing Tin and Layla on the pier earlier today helped me realize something I never thought I would want.”
Rodger gripped her hand. “You don’t have to say this because—”
“I’m not. I’m saying it because it’s true, Rodge.” Magnolia leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then caught his gaze. “I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”
However long that might be…
“After we lay your parents to rest, we’re going to face one of the toughest fights of our lives, but together we can get through it, and when this is all over, that’s what I want.”
Rodger got up and reached for both her hands. His calloused palms were comforting to her in the way her father’s had been, from what little she could remember of the man.
“Magnolia Katib, you’ve had my heart since the moment I laid eyes on you, back when you were a rebel without a cause, stealing calorie-infused herb sticks from the trading post.”
She chuckled at the memory. “What color was my hair back then?” she asked.
“Blue.”
“You do remember.”
“Of course I do.”
She smiled, then sighed.
“What?” he asked.
Her eyes went to the mirror that she had been avoiding across the small room. The burns to her scalp were hideous beneath the bandage, and she doubted that her hair would even grow back.
“You’re beautiful no matter what,” Rodger said. He kissed her gently on the cheek and then helped her stand. “Now, come on. Let’s go bury my parents.”
Magnolia got up, dizzy from the sudden motion. She winced and lowered her head to touch her bandage.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Rodger asked, leaning down to look her in the eye.
“I’m fine. The gel is already helping heal the wound. The ruptured eardrum is what’s causing me issues.”
“Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”
“No.”
Rodger hesitated another moment, then looped her arm over his. He guided her out of the room, down the passage, and up the stairs to the rooftop.
People were already starting to gather, walking toward the tropical forest. Magnolia and Rodger took a winding path through the trees. The sunset’s glow bled through the canopy of banana leaves.