Finder's Shore (13 page)

Explorer
ploughs into a trough, sending spray arcing across the deck. Lara has entrusted me with the wheel and I glance towards her, wondering if she’ll judge I’m angled wrong against the swell, but she doesn’t look round. She and Dev are occupied with monitoring the morning’s catch. Malik meets my eyes and grins.

“Dev always claimed he could turn you into a sailor,” he says.

I grimace. After a full week with no sight of land, I’ve less desire than ever for a career in sea-sci.

As if he can read my mind, Malik relieves me of the wheel. “You’ve earned a break,” he says. “Go get something to eat.”

Ronan is alone in the main cabin when I go in search of food. “How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Fine.”

“They took a record catch this morning. It should be enough to complete the batch.”

I watch as he flexes and folds his palm, working at the 
scar tissue. “Have you thought about what you’ll do once we get back to Vidya?”

He doesn’t answer. Ronan has retreated within himself these past few days. He’s not so introverted as when he first arrived in Vidya, but things are different now: his reticence never used to pain me.

“I’m sure the governors would agree if you choose to go back to Ebony Hill. Or else, you might stay in Vidya for a while — it won’t seem so foreign this time. I’ve grown used to it.” Almost. His eyebrow lifts at my lie.

We sit in awkward silence while I search for an easier topic. “I saw a shearwater today,” I say finally. “I’ve not seen one in years, not since I was small.”

Ronan decides at last to join the conversation, though apparently due to no effort of mine. “Is Lara busy?”

“Testing the catch we took this morning.”

“Ness, I’ve been thinking —”

Whatever he was about to tell me is lost when Dev and Lara jostle through the door, bringing with them the tang of brine and banter.

“You can claim it all you want,” Dev is saying, his eyes bright with affection. “I’ve known you long enough to know better.”

Lara laughs, then sobers as she takes in Ronan and me. “Food anyone?”

“There’s fish stew on the stove, but not much to go with it. We’re getting to the end of our stores.”

She grunts an acknowledgment. We spent more time in coming and going from Dunnett than Lara had allowed in her planning. 

“How’s the hand?” Dev asks.

“It’s fine.” Ronan drops it from sight below the table. “Ness was saying that today’s catch will be enough to finish the testing.”

“At this location,” Lara answers. “I’d like to do one more sampling before we head back.”

“South or west?” Ronan asks.

“West. Based on the way the pollution is clearing, I’ve a theory I’d like to test. Once we’ve done that we’ll head south.” She hands Dev a bowl of the stew I made yesterday and I shuffle along to make room at the table. “We’ll take a catch at the southern limit of our safe fishing zone.” She tries a spoonful of stew. “This is good, Ness.”

The silence extends as they eat. We’ll be on a diet of fish three times a day by the time we reach Vidya.

“Fish stocks are stronger and more varied the farther north we go, but in terms of delivering a catch, we’re limited by distance from Vidya,” she says, through a mouthful. “We need to find a way to store our haul for an extended journey.”

“Or build faster ships,” Dev suggests.

“You really think fish will become Vidya’s secondary food source?”

“Not necessarily secondary,” Lara says. “Dunnett isn’t going to change in a hurry, maybe not for years, and even then …” Her eyes find mine. “I’m sorry, Ness, but that’s the way I see it. It may never be worth the trouble it would bring.”

I don’t dispute it. Much as I wish Wilum well, I’ve no 
reason to believe Dunnett’s Council will suddenly begin to make rational decisions.

“Even with a reliable fish supply, it would be worth securing another land-based food source,” Ronan says.

“Maybe,” Lara concedes. “But it’s not up to us. The situation on Dunnett is out of our hands.”

Ronan shakes his head. “Vidya’s governors wanted us to explore the possibility of trade with Dunnett, but the island itself is peripheral.”

“Not to the islanders,” I interject.

He ignores me. “All the governors want is a secure food supply to supplement production from Ebony Hill.”

We all watch him. I’ve had no cause to think about Ebony Hill for days, but our experiences — last summer and this — still sit like a barb in the back of my mind.

“Dunnett’s not the only island.”

Dev leans forward. “What are you suggesting, Ronan?”

Lara overrules the question. “We already know there’s nothing left on the other islands, at least the ones within a reasonable distance of Vidya.” She looks at me. “Your father’s island was wiped out by a plague, wasn’t it?” I nod confirmation.

“There was no plague on Ister.”

My eyes flick to Ronan.

Lara frowns. “You said it was destroyed, that there was no one left.”

“The community was destroyed. The population became so small it was unsustainable. That’s what forced people to leave.”

A silence grows, thick as honey spilt on sand. Lara 
breaks it. “You’re suggesting we re-colonise Ister.”

“Judging by your charts, it’s no farther from Vidya than Tay. Ister is smaller than Dunnett and the farmland not so rich, but it could be improved. There’s water, houses, the old mine and quarry. The harbour could be replaced with a floating jetty like the one at Vidya.”

“I thought you said there’d been a war.”

“There was. Parts of the town were badly damaged, and the power plant. The livestock was lost, one way or another, but there’s a lot still intact. Enough to start with.”

“We haven’t got the resources to —”

“All it needs is people. You could set up a sea-sci research base, re-establish farms, develop a boat-building industry. Wilum might know people who could help with that.” He turns to me. “There’d be a place for Ty; Marn and Sophie too, maybe. Merryn, if she’d come. We’d need to ship in livestock, seeds, hives …”

My heart has begun to skip with the possibilities — until I see Lara’s expression.

“It’s an appealing fantasy, Ronan, but hardly practical.”

Dev speaks up. “It’s at least worth a look, Lara.” He hesitates, studying Ronan. “If you’re sure.”

Ronan’s eyes skitter away around the room and, finally, I understand what’s lain behind his distance these past few days. Going back to Ister brings different challenges for Ronan than returning to Dunnett did for me. But he’s right, I think, and Dev too. I meet Lara’s eyes and offer the only convincing argument I can find. “At least there’ll be no surprises on Ister.” 

Spray breaks ragged against the rocks, clambering up towards land as rumpled as a hulled walnut. I lean over the rail, droplets of seawater spattering me as we breast each wave. The coast is rocky, the land threadbare. There’s a similarity to Dunnett, as Ronan promised, but there’s a bleakness, as well — though perhaps Dunnett would feel the same, stripped of its people.

Ronan props his arms on the rail beside me. I turn. “Are you all right?”

He nods.

As we skim south along the coast, Dev and Farra join us. “Have we far to go?”

Ronan shakes his head. “The entry into Harlan harbour lies around that second headland. The peak shaped like a fist stands on the far side of the town.”

Farra has been clear from the outset that we make no assumptions about Ister. The four of us are to land first, assess the jetty and water supply, and look for any indication of contagion. We’ve a list of priorities that I don’t doubt Farra will hold us to.

As we clear the steep headland, Harlan slips into view, the town wrapped around the harbour like a shell around an oyster.

“That’s the fish processing factory.” Ronan points. “And see there, up the hill a little, that’s the hospital.”

“And the burnt-out buildings to the left?”

“Town hall, police barracks — that’s the one with barbed wire. They used it as headquarters for the HDF.”

“Defence force?”

Ronan nods. 

“Water reservoir, near the hill top?” Farra asks. “Should be easy enough to check that.”

Ronan makes no reply. I can feel the tension in him. Since the decision was made to visit his home island he’s been on edge, everything about him thrumming with a raw, taut energy.

Lara flings instructions after us as we scramble into the dinghy. “Two hours. Use the flare if you meet any difficulties. And keep together — we don’t know for certain that the island’s deserted.”

The sea slaps loud against what’s left of the wharf as we pull near. Ronan directs us to the slipway.

“Right,” Farra jumps out and takes the tow rope. “Let’s get the boat secured — mind the weed.”

Between us we haul the dinghy up the slippery ramp and tie it to a bollard. It’s easy to see how high the water comes: the slimy weed covers everything. In places waves have breached the sea wall, flooding the lowest of the harbour-side buildings. We detour around them.

Despite our list of priorities, Ronan takes us first to the cottage that housed Harlan’s sole remaining resident when he was last here, three years ago. It’s a forlorn hope that she might still be alive given she was then old and ill, but we each understand why he needs to be sure.

Though I offer, as medic, Farra goes in alone.

“Dead,” he confirms, when he reappears. “Natural causes, a long time ago.”

“She wanted to die in her own bed,” Ronan says.

“And she did.”

We work our way through the town, assessing the 
condition of the buildings, checking on resources, noting anything that might impact on a resettlement programme. The departure must have been orderly. There are no signs of looting. I think about the desperation Ronan described to me once — the lack of food and basics that drove the last handful of residents away, without even an idea of where they would go. Perhaps there was no looting because there was nothing left to loot.

Our two hours are nearly spent when Farra leads us up the hill towards the reservoir. “Got the test kit?” he asks. Dev nods. If the reservoir water tests clean it removes a significant hurdle for resettlement.

At the top of the street the houses give way to rough grassland. “It used to be a park,” Ronan says. The trees have been cut down and what must once have been a children’s play area has been stripped of its components so that rusting pipes and posts stand aimless guard above bare ground. An old seesaw remains. I think of Tarbet, and the jigger that runs between Vidya and Ebony Hill. “I used to play on one of these,” I say, my fingers curling around the edge of a broken seat. “In Tarbet.” With Sophie, I don’t add.

There’s a rattle behind us, of metal against metal. The last house in the row backs onto the park, its gate all that remains of the fence that once divided public and private land. It squeaks on its hinges, slapping open and closed in the breeze. “Wind?” Dev suggests.

“I’ll take a look.” Farra starts towards the house.

“Wait!” Ronan’s voice is low. I look to where he’s pointing. In the shadowed ground near the gate, the print of a boot is marked clear in the damp earth. 

Farra drops to a squat, signalling for the rest of us to scatter. Ronan tows me sideways, behind the scant cover of a scrubby bush. Farra holds his hand aloft to quiet us. I look around for Dev, and locate him behind a cone of twisted metal.

Farra creeps into the overgrown garden. With an angry yowl, a mangy cat breaks cover, rocketing away around the side of the building. My breathing comes easier. Ronan moves cautiously forward. “Keep behind me,” he mutters.

I’m willing to do as he suggests, though I doubt a nest of wildcats offers any great threat. But nor do they generally wear boots.

Farra and Dev check the house while Ronan and I wait. When they reappear, Farra shrugs. “No one here. We could check the other buildings, but the print isn’t fresh.”

Ronan has studied it too. “It could be weeks old,” he agrees. “But not years.” There’s no answer to that.

We continue, more warily than before. The reservoir water tests purer than the drinking water in Vidya.

“Right then,” Farra says, as Dev packs the testing kit away. “Let’s head back to the harbour. I think we’ll all sleep on
Explorer
tonight.” His statement tells of his unease, however relaxed he might appear.

Halfway back down the road, there’s a wild shout from our left. A man, shaggy and shambling, runs towards us down one of the town’s twisting lanes.

Farra’s eyes flick left and right. “Could be a ruse. You three stay here till we know his intent. Keep a lookout for any others.” He strides purposefully forward.

Ronan and Dev hedge in towards me as we stand 
aimless in the centre of the street. Suddenly Dev stiffens. “Jiordo!”

Ignoring the instructions we were given he sprints up the slope, catching Farra just as the scarecrow man reaches him. Dev startles us all by wrapping his arms around the stranger. “What’s going on?” Ronan asks.

“No idea.”

The three men stand together in the roadway, the stranger lanky and thin, Farra stocky, Dev hopping from foot to foot as if his boots are filled with coals. He and the stranger embrace again before they march three abreast towards us.

Dev’s words, when they reach us, gush forth in a tumble. “Ness, Ronan, this is Jiordo. We thought he was dead, but he and the others — Mika and Yan, Neena — they’ve been here all along.”

His face glows with delight, but still I stare at him blankly.

“They’re Vidyans,” Farra expands. “They crewed with Dev on
Nemo
.”

Dev’s grins at my expression. “When you told me that no one else had been washed up on Dunnett, I assumed the others had drowned.”

“We assumed that you had,” Jiordo says. He thumps Dev’s arm, his smile flickering on and off in mixed delight and disbelief.

“But how did you get here?” I ask.

“Surfboat. Took us a couple of days, drifting half the time, sailing the rest. We were in pretty poor shape when we arrived.” 

“They’ve been on Ister ever since.” Emotions threaten to spill over in Dev’s voice.