Raindrops

Quicksilvre

Now that AP's are done, I might be able to get chapters in more quickly. We're coming close to the end here; I'd like to get this all done before graduation (June 26 for me).

)-)-)-)

The island was quite a bit bigger than it seemed. When Summer was sailing toward it, it looked as if it couldn't be more than a mile or two wide. However, as she continued onward toward the column of smoke, it was clear that it contained a whole lot more land than that. Two hours worth of wading had brought her only part of the way there. Still, Summer trudged on, prey in tow.

Summer flicked a mosquito off of her shoulder, and a fly off of the shark. She hoped that it would stay together for at least a few more hours. She looked at its collapsed head; other than that, it was still in good condition. She hadn't any idea how long it would take for it before it began to rot. Not soon, she hoped.

She looked back up. Squinting, she wondered how much closer she had gotten to the smoke column. She knew that she had to be at least a few miles from where she'd landed, as it was looking much thicker than it had. Either she was getting that much closer, or the fire had grown much bigger. She strained her ears, listening for the distant roar of an inferno, and heard nothing. The fire couldn't have been that big.

If the fire was small, and staying small, she hoped that something was keeping it that way. Or, maybe, someone.

She adjusted her new necklace on her shoulders. The hinges had stayed well knotted and showed no signs of falling apart. The whole thing was only a little bit bigger around than her neck, so several of the teeth snuggled right next to her skin. Passing by a little bay that had been cut off from the ocean, Summer peered at her reflection in the calm water. Her skin was as golden from sun as ever, her hair had become a bewildering black tangle and her clothes were all muddy, leaving the shark jaws as a shock of blood red and pearly white against the brown and tan.

Summer splashed some hair onto her face and head, trying to work herself into a bit more presentable state. If there was someone else on the island, she wanted to look good. Even if there wasn't, she still wanted a little bit of Newport Beach Summer back. A few handfuls fixed her hair part of the way and washed her face clean, but old Summer still wasn't coming back. It wasn't just tanned skin or dirty clothes: her eyes, strong and fierce, stared back at her once the pool had calmed down enough to show a reflection again. They were eyes that ran over the razor-sharp points that hovered next to her throat.

No, this is useless. Old Summer, she said to herself, is long dead. She died on the freeway, came back to live at the Tongau, and then died again picking bananas. Summer Roberts got worked to death in the fields and came out new. Came out better, even. You are who you are now.

A coconut fell from a palm tree and into the bay, its waves breaking up the reflection. For a moments Summer thought she saw her old self come back, but as the waves broke up the image, she knew it was for the last time. She went back out a few feet into the water and walked on.

)-)-)-)

It was about an hour later, when she was busily brushing off bugs, that she finally made it to where she wanted to be. It was clear that this was no forest fire. Summer had become someone else's neighbors. The column of smoke now spiraled high above her into the sky above her, and the sound of gentle chants was beginning to fill the air. Tying the shark to a rock in the surf, she climbed up onto the beach and edged toward the music.

There were eight or ten people there. People shuffled around, under a shelter and around the fire–which from here spread smoke in almost every direction, cutting down on how well Summer could see. She craned forward, trying to get a closer look while staying unseen.

For a few minutes she studied them as well as she could. As much as the smoke blocked her view, she was able to see much of what the tribe had: a couple shelters, a few spears lying around, and a couple of fish drying on a rack. As far as she could tell, no one there was a child or even as young as she was. Everyone in the little tribe seemed to be middle aged at the very least. A couple of fish were being doled out to everyone present. Whole, the plump and colorful fish looked like a fine feast, but as they were cut up for everyone it seemed that each portion was painfully small.

A rustle near her sent Summer scurrying for cover behind a bush. A few dozen yards away, someone was floating in on a raft. Everyone in the tribe looked up at the arrival, with a few even running up to him, but they were to be disappointed: he was empty-handed. Moving right in front of her, Summer could see their ribs and collarbones poke out under their skin.

Summer looked away for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something further behind her. Behind the bush, there was a large, flat boulder, that seemed to hover a little bit off the ground. Tiptoeing back, trying not to catch attention from any of the others, she went up to the rock and looked under.

Her stomach instantly flipped.

The rock wasn't hovering, it was held up very well by a pile of bones–human bones. Ribs and skulls were strewn all around as a neat ring of leg bones supported the rock a foot off the ground. Summer's first instinct was to run back, or, more probably, stumble back and scream. However, the fisherman and the rest of his tribe was still right behind her. She stifled back something in her throat and stayed right where she was.

Summer never knew what inspired her to reach out and touch anything down there, but before she realized what she was doing, her fingertips brushed the skull closest to her. She snapped back into thought the instant she could feel its hardness, but that one little touch was all that it took.

)-)-)-)

Summer could see herself running down the beach, but she could sense that it wasn't her running down the beach. She didn't look down to see herself, but instinctively she knew that she was someone else–someone who was very frightened about something. Looking out into the water, she realized, in a moment of horror, what that something was.

About twenty yards from the shore, there was something thrashing about in the water. After a moment, Summer could see a man with a spear appear in the water for a second, but then a huge shark's tail smashed him in the head. The man went under; a few moments later, the water around him became dyed red. Summer could see herself run out in the water, just in time to see the shark swim away with something huge in its mouth, something as big as the shark itself. When she arrived at the scene, the blood was still thick in the water, its smell filling the air. A few fish, speared by the attacked man, floated around in the bloody water.

She picked up one of the fish, looked out to where the shark swam off, and then back to the shore. Many people, many more than Summer had just seen, were looking out at her, most of their faces streaked with anguish. Looking back at everyone gathered, she saw how even then their bodies were thin. Beyond them, the wind blew the branches of a few withered fruit trees, making them drop their meager crop onto the sand.

She suddenly felt very cold and very hungry. Gathering up all of the fish that hadn't been carried off, she slowly trudged back to shore.

)-)-)-)

She snapped out of it. Within her heart, she could feel a swell of pity for the others. They were starving, for a shark had swept their last true fisherman away as if he had been a leaf in the wind.

Now it was time. Summer stepped out into view.

"Er..."

Those in front of her turned around and faced her. The man from the boat picked up his spear and got ready to throw.

)-)-)-)

"No, no no. I'm not here to hurt any of you." Summer spoke as softly as she could, holding her hands out, palms up. "I don't have any weapons. I can't do anything. Calm down."

The fisherman–replacement fisherman, she assumed–stared hard at her for a few seconds, then lowered the spear. He began to speak at her, but it was in a tongue Summer was not familiar with. Since her death she had been able to understand everyone, no matter what language they spoke, and everyone understood her too. It took her a few moments to concentrate on what the annoyed-sounding fisherman was saying.

Iur fhlag iguoipde gottid... "...and we have been on this island for many, many years. We have been perfectly happy here without neighbors and we expect to stay that way. We must ask you to leave and let us be."

"I...I landed here just last night..."

That he seemed to understand. "You must leave tonight."

Summer paused, looking at him. He gripped the spear again, making his skin stretch tighter over his skeleton. "I understand how–"

"Go, stranger." The fisherman was keeping up his pride. Looking at him, she could see the anger in his eyes, mixed with a little hidden shame. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead she found it wiser just to turn heel and walk back. After she took a few steps, she heard the others first mumble to themselves, then walk back to their camp.

She returned to the rock to which she had tied the shark. Tying the rope back around her waist, she brushed her hand across its skin. There was no flashback this time, but she knew. There was no doubt to whom should receive and eat it. She walked back around in the water, towing the shark behind her.

"You must leave now." The same voice again.

"Very well." Summer walked back onto the shore and dragged the shark onto the beach. "I can go now." She took one last look at the astonished people in front of her, and then turned heel, stopping only to brush the flies off of the shark one last time.