Uncontacted 2.0

Chapter 17 Katavia

Pressure andswaying. Swaying and pressure. Something was pushing on my head andchest, squeezing the air out and the navio was rocking justenough to not be my hammock, enough to remind me I was far from home.Except I had no home.

I swallowed. Icould make a new home in San Francisco. I would make amends toPeter's family. I would not make the same mistakes. I wouldn't makeany mistakes. This time I could stay and I would be part ofsomething. I would sit in back and be quiet, do my part, and bewelcomed into the group.

Gasping, I suckedin a breath and fought the pressure on my chest. My hammock hadcurled around me and swayed with my movements. Some nights I hadwondered if the hammock was how it had been when I was tucked in mymother's belly, before I had emerged under an unlucky omen andbrought her disappointment. And death. My father was the first.

She was glad to berid of me.

Instead of myhammock, the navio swayed. Atthe beginning it had made me feel as though my stomach was curdlingand my heart fluttered with every up and down. As though I wererocking on the edge of a precipice. Now, I clung to the soaring andfalling as I was cradled in the navio'sbelly.

Siphiwewas there, his face a mask. "I have no medicine for you," hesaid. "There is a nurse on the navio,but you are not supposed to be here and I do not want to ask for helpif I don't have to."

Hefiddled with his box, the one he always carried. There were two vinesthat emerged from one end to plug into his ears. On my second day Ihad convinced him to show me and I had heard music from the vines.Siphiwe's fist was tight around the box now, his knuckles whiteagainst it. "My family needs this money. It is a good job. Betterthan what most forest monkeys get." I saw now in his eyes that hewas pleading with me.

Ilooked at him. "How far until San Francisco?" My voice came outwith a rasp and I coughed.

"Sevendays." Siphiwe's eyes stayed on the floor.

Sevendays was not long. I would be better by then. From where I lay Icould see the dark water and where it met the brillian sky. In sevendays I would be there where the two met in San Francisco and I wouldfind Peter's family first. I closed my eyes against another coughthat rumbled and scratched at my throat. Siphiwe slid some food nextto me and left, closing the door with a hard click.

"Onethree five two Sycamore," I whispered. "Peter Jeffries." Islept, but the weight on my chest and in my head never left me.

Tocoihad feet that smelled of rot and fungus. I had teasted him aboutbeing the god of flies until I was tired of it and long after hestopped smiling in response, his boyish hair still falling like darkwater across his forehead.

Evenso, we sat together on the banks of the great river and threw sticksinto the water. My short legs spread in front of me and his were onlya little longer. Still a child's legs, though his would start tolengthen soon. A macaw and her mate took off from a nearby tree andclimbed the breeze toward the sun. "Someday I will be a bird andfly over the forest looking down on everything," I said, leaningback on my hands.

"Poopingon anyone you don't like." Tocoi snickered.

Iswatted his arm. "Just on you."

Hethrew in another twig, this one getting caught on an underwater sandbar. The rains were getting lighter and the river's waters werereceding. Dry season was coming. And turtle eggs.

"Oneday I'm going to be too important to fly around. I'm going to bemarried to a chieftess and I will tell everyone what to do." He waslooking at me now and I squirmed.

Iwas the daughter of a chieftess, but I would not bring himimportance. Though my place as the only surviving child of thechieftess meant that I would one day take her place, nothing elseconnected to me was important. "Want to dig for turtle eggs?" Iasked, jumping to my feet.

"Turtleeggs?" Tocoi blinked his dark eyes. "It's too early for that."

"Itis not. I saw a turtle down there."

"Haveyou been listening to what I've been saying?" He grabbed my arm andturned me to face him.

Istuck my chin out. "Yes, and I am bored. Since your second spearceremony you have only talked of one thing. I only needed to hear itthe first twelve times and now I do not need to listen at all."

Whateverhe started to say through the noise of the birds and insects andflowing water, I heard the sound of crying. "Shh!" I said,smothering his retort with my hand. "Do you hear that?"

"No."His words were hard like the line of his mouth.

ButI was already following the sound. My new spear Wasthis before or after her first ceremony?lay forgotten on the river bank as I ducked through the brush. I hadbeen practicing stealth and I used it now, placing each foot in thered earth and breathing with the rhythm of the trees.

Tocoifollowed, carrying both our spears, but his had the markings from hissecond ceremony and mine was only marked from one. "Never leaveyour---"

Icut him off with a hiss. "Be quiet!" Whatever I was following wasa human, I was mostly sure. They could be from one of the nearbyvillages, but they had tried to raid our village under the last fullmoon and I did not want to reveal myself too soon.

Aftera while, I realized that whoever I was following wandered in circlesas I closed the distance between us. How did they not notice they hadpassed the same Kapok tree more than once?

Tocoiwas just as silent as we followed, though he did not try to be quiet.I thought about threatening his life if he couldn't be more quiet,but as he was bigger than me, he had never taken those thingsseriously. He stomped through the underbrush behind me until wecaught our first glimpse of the lost person. Lost boy.

Hewas about my size with pale skin and hair the color of dried grass.

Tocoisucked in a breath. "An outsider." He cursed.

Itried to see more of the boy, but he disappeared around a bush.

"Comeon, let's go." Tocoi grabbed my arm, pulling me away.

"Buthe's alone! Let's just see where he's going." Maybe he belonged tothe village of outsiders that came during the dry seasons, but he wasfar from home if he was. They had been coming every dry season sincebefore I was born. The story keeper had told me about the long tribalcouncils. Some wanted to attack first. Others wanted to move thevillage deeper into the forest. My mother had kept the peace bywaiting. The spies had gone every day to watch them, but theoutsiders had done nothing of interest. Then they left just beforethe rains began again. The next dry season they were back, but withless of a disturbance to us.

Manyof the elders were still uneasy and told stories of other tribes orof things they had seen over the fires at night. I was only morecurious. Pale skin and light hair, covering their bodies with manycolors. The tricks they could play and how they would lure you inwith tools. We had an outsider's old ax that was barely useful anymore that Anutie Suya's husband had presented as a wedding gift. Hehad traded another village a year's supply of taro root for it.

Thisboy seemed so harmless, almost soft.

"Itcould be a trap. They are never alone." Tocoi gripped his spear asthough a lifeline.

Iwatched the boy, his crying and hiccupping reached out, tendrils of aliana and wrapped around my feet so that I did not want to move. Hecould be very dangerous. I had heard nothing good of outsiders, buthe turned then and I saw his eyes. They were the color of the skythat the macaws fluttered through, that I longed to fly through.

 "Let'sgo," I said, pushing past Tocoi to retrace our steps. I looked backas the boy pushed on to complete another circle in the forest. Iwould be back, but without Tocoi.