The Bone Cay by Eliza Nellums

Author:Eliza Nellums [Nellums, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane

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There were still standing trees at the top of the hill. Magda was glad she had let the lemurs go when she had—although if she later learned they had starved to death, or been eaten, or given somebody rabies, she reserved the right to change her opinion. She hoped all of them had made it through the night and were off playing in the trees somewhere. Or maybe the whole rest of the island was gone and the lemurs had drowned. Maybe she was still going to drown and just didn’t know it yet.

She gazed out through the blurry gray-brown of the storm. Calories, Maggie.

The driveway was a low spot, submerged but still passable. Magda splashed across it and then up the muddy hill to the sheltered space at the top of the road, where she found a few green coconuts that had been shaken loose by the wind of the night before. “And to think, I almost had you taken out,” she said, squinting up through the rain. There were enough loose branches around that she could throw a few at the nuts still being held under the leaves and catch a few more.

The sea grapes only had a few fruits left, but she did pull up a few runty little peach palms to bring in the shoots, which she’d heard could be eaten raw. Or did they have to be roasted? She wondered if any of the books in the library would have told her. Probably not—Charles Reyes paid for good produce to be brought down from the mainland; he hadn’t been eating his own garden plants.

There were downed trees in the road, she noted—those ridiculous non-native Christmas palm trees people planted because they thought they looked “tropical.” Too bad it wasn’t the season for their fruit. No cabbage palms either, the leaves of which were considered a delicacy.

She had enough to carry as it was, juggling the coconuts with the palms clenched in her fist. At least that was some food and water. It was amazing how quickly they’d fallen: from a thermos of coffee and a box of cereal bars, to foraging off the land. But there were worse things to be in such cases, she reflected, than a horticulturalist.

It was hard not to slip as she came back down the slick slope. She had gotten so used to being rained on that it barely even registered anymore. She returned with her arms full to find Hank standing out on the porch where she’d left him, squinting into the gloom.

“We still need more protein,” said Magda, putting her bounty down on the porch. “I was thinking maybe we could try to catch some fish or something.”

Hank squinted. “I’m not sure how many fish we’re going to catch in the middle of a hurricane,” he said.

“Well, it’s not like we have anything to lose, right? We could give it a try. But I don’t have the supplies.”

Hank considered. “I think there’s tackle in one of the compartments on the boat.

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