Chapter 5: A few more drops of salty water

Morning came far too early; we'd all been up half the night. Micah was the only one who had gotten much rest; that far into a pregnancy, her body didn't ask if she needed to stay awake. It made her sleep. I never wanted to be pregnant, to be slow and vulnerably and heavy.

Travis was gone; he'd taken the bodies and let his boat drift on the currents, so he could dump them - after we'd bled them out. Water was always an issue on the atoll - any atoll. Drinking water. The one still plus rainwater had to supply not only nine people, but all the plants as well. If we watered the plants with blood, it wouldn't hurt them, and we'd have water to spare for us, because we weren't watering the plants. I doubted it would make much difference to the taste when we harvested. Greta had already said she wouldn't eat any of it. She'd also thrown up several times.

I made a big breakfast for everyone - they'd need it. It was starting to rain; Tyla and I, who had both come through more or less unscathed, put up the catching cloths and collection barrels. The wind was picking up.

"Can you steer that ship into the atoll?" she asked me. "I can hook it up, but..."

"Yeah. I think so." I'd watched Travis, and this boat had almost the same set-up. It was bigger, with more sails, but the same steering system. I gently moved it forward on its mooring line, nudging it into position as Tyla loosened the lines joining the smaller one-man boats at the round end of the atoll.
In five minutes of work we added nearly half the length of the atoll again.

"We'd better do something about the hull," I remarked. "It can't have that much life left in it."

"I agree," she said. "I'll talk to my brother; maybe he'll have some ideas. For now, let's see what our haul is." We'd already handed out spare clothes, boots - I had never owned a pair before, and they chafed - metal tools, knives, weapons. We found several stills below-decks, and water; food, an obviously much-prized lime bush - we didn't have any, and Tyla nearly had raptures - and all sorts of other things. Bandages. Dice. Cigarettes. Alcohol. Several sets of binoculars. It was all eagerly appropriated. I kept a set of crayons.

Grim work. I kept thinking about the look on someone's face when they die. Surprise and fear and anger all rolled up together, sometimes with acceptance or sadness or relief. I wondered what I'd feel when I died. How I'd look. Who'd care.

I had the feeling the faces of the men I killed would haunt me for a long time. Even more so for the ones I killed underwater, when they were just outlines without names or faces or anything else to know them by.

I hadn't wanted to grow up to be a whore, but I didn't think being a killer was any better. At least whoring paid.

When we were done, I took a nap. Travis was back when I woke up.

"Kayla, can we talk?" He asked as he came in to where I was hauling salt water into a barrel to be distilled.

"I'm kind of busy." Those buckets were heavy.

"Fine. You just listen. I know what I saw last night. You stayed under water for more than seven minutes at a time. I was counting. Now, I've known a few - a very few - people who could do that, once, then spend lots of time recovering. I've known no one who can do that while swimming. And I've never met anyone who can do that multiple times, swimming, and come out of it only a bit more tired than when they started." My hands shook just a little on the bucket.

"I swim well," I said.

"No. You don't."

"Let go of my arm." The grip he'd taken at some point was going to bruise.

"You swim. You swim like someone who's had a lot of practice and no talent. But you hold your breath so well most people don't notice."

"I said let go of my arm." He didn't. Tyla noticed.

"Travis," she said firmly, "let her go."

"No."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I want some answers."

"I want her to be able to work in the morning, not have an arm useless from the elbow on down."

He looked as if he hadn't realised how much he was hurting me and let go. I smiled grimly at him and brought a knee up hard.

He folded over with a whistling gasp and staggered back, falling on his rump and curling into a ball.

"That was unnecessary," he said hoarsely. Tyla was torn between concern and approval.

"You'd better finish filling that," she said. "How can you hold your breath for so long?"

"I just can."

"That's crap."

"Believe whatever you like." In a twisted way she was right. I hoped like hell my hair was covering my ears.

I was wrong. Travis got up and brushed a bit of it aside, breath hot on my ear. I tried to move aside, but I was trapped between a wall, a barrel and him. I didn't want him near me.

"This explains a lot," he said softly, almost viciously.

"What does?" I tried to pull his arm away and make him let go of my hair but he wouldn't budge. I hated being female.

"Oh," she said. "I've never seen that before."

"Neither have I. A human with gills. Very - unusual."

I could feel the tears coming. "Oh, go ahead and say it," I snapped. "There's nothing you can say I haven't already heard."

Both of them flinched back. I caught a glimpse of the pity mixed with revulsion on their faces, and I didn't want to see it. I ran.

God help me, I ran.

I hit the water hard, too distracted to flatten myself out properly for a dive. Someone yelled something, but I went down and kept going.

I wished I could stay down forever more than anything. I wished I could live on salt water the way fish do, and never come up into the sunlight again.
Sure, sharks and other fish with teeth could hurt, but humans could hurt worse. Far, far worse. Words and looks can wound more than losing a limb.

I'd have traded both arms and legs to be treated like everyone else.

I could never have that. I had the water, the ocean, like no other human being - but in return, I could never be like another human being. I'd always, always be alone. Hated. Despised. Feared.

I cried. No one would ever know it. What's a few more drops of salty water in an ocean that covers a world?