Isle of Broken Years by Jane Fletcher

Author:Jane Fletcher [Fletcher, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635551761
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2018-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Sam swung her machete. The sapling snapped after three blows. She stood, wiped the sweat from her eyes, and yawned. Her mouth felt like she had been chewing sand. Fortunately, water was not rationed. Piracola’s pack was in the Inflatable, but everyone else had theirs. Furthermore, the farm had a clean pond. Sam opened her flask and took a long drink.

Ricardo was right. Her body refused to believe it was afternoon. Her head was strangely light, and the ground bobbed under her feet, as if she was aboard a ship. She would have to ask why he called it jet lag.

Sweat trickled down her back and soaked into her waistband. Her skin felt dusty and sticky. Two weeks ago, she had never heard of a hot shower. Now, it was a hardship to be without one. However, the work was nearly done. Their harvest was in the sacks ready to be carried back.

Sam put the cap on her water bottle and fought back another yawn. A few cuts with the machete turned the sapling into a stake. Sam used it to reinforce a section of fence then continued pulling up the more obvious weeds.

A high-pitched whistle shrilled across the farm. Sam froze, spade in hand. At the other side of the field she could see Piracola working. The whistle came again, but this time she recognized it—just a bird. One more false alarm. Her pulse slowed. Sam shook her head and moved on.

Another bird joined in. Then a flock of gulls took to the air, complaining in a riot of harsh, screeching. Sam raised her head, looking to where they had been perched. The treetops were swaying in a fresh wind, sending down showers of leaves. Then Sam felt the ground shake. Why would Atlantis not stay put?

The light was changing. The sun was gone. Sam stuck her spade in the ground. She had managed to get herself as far from the scattered roosts as it was possible to get. Which was closest? Sam stumbled forward, trying to make haste over the heaving ground. She fell twice in the gloom, sprawling face-first in the dirt. The ladder over the fence was like climbing rigging in a gale. She bruised her knuckles, misjudging a handhold.

By the time she reached the knotted rope, the worst was over. The wind dropped and the ground steadied. Sam paused for a second to catch her breath, listening. No clicking. No rustling in the undergrowth. She had made it.

Sam hauled herself to the top, to find that she was not alone in selecting this roost. Of all people, why did it have to be Alonzo? Judging by his expression, he was even less happy to see her. “Why are you here?”

Sam sighed. “You know that’s a silly question, don’t you?”

Did she have any options? Sam glanced back down, but changing to another roost would be an act of insanity. The sun had moved and was now low on the horizon. Soon it would be dark.

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