Bella Bella by Jonathan London

Author:Jonathan London
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graphic Arts Books
Published: 2016-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

“Thanks for that, Lisa,” Roger said. “I’d like to take a look at that book of yours sometime. But I’m bushed; now it’s time for some shut-eye.” He flung what was left of the tea in his cup into the sand, said goodnight, and headed for their tent.

“I think tomorrow we rest,” Willie said. “Then take off at sunset and paddle across the channel under the cover of darkness.”

“What about we go look for one of these burial islands?” Lisa said, picking up her book.

She flipped through some pages, then showed us a photo of a burial island with some totem poles on it. “Mortuary totems,” she said. “This island is supposed to be around here somewhere. We could probably get there and back in just a couple of hours, with time to check it out. That would be so awesome!”

She flipped to another page. It was a map, showing a tiny burial island east of us, over toward Hunter Island. I couldn’t make out its name in the firelight.

Willie grinned but shook his head. “No can do, Lisa. Sorry. We need the rest. We’re gonna need all the energy we can muster tomorrow evening. And remember, we’re supposed to be lying low, with the Sea Wolf out there somewhere.”

“But this is our last chance!” Lisa said.

Willie just shrugged and shook his head again.

Lisa slapped her book against her thigh, looked at me like maybe she was hoping I’d say something, then got up and went to her tent.

I felt like I let her down, but maybe Willie was right. With smugglers out there and all.

The fire was slowly shutting down, and with it, the night.

Dad and I stood up at the same time. “After you, Aaron,” he said. I skipped brushing my teeth and ducked right into our tent. I was too exhausted to even get out of my clothes.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, and listened to the sea slapping the sand silly. I tried not to think about the Root People, or even killer whales. I tried not to listen to my dad snoring, moments after his head hit the pillow. I tried to fall into the oblivion of sleep.

And when I finally did, I dreamt about Chinese immigrants huddled in the bowels of a ship with their ankles shackled like slaves. They moaned in pain. A hatch opened and light poured down on a girl’s face.

But she wasn’t Chinese. It was Lisa, her eyes wide with terror.

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