They sailed across the ocean with the rift, and the island, at their backs. A fleet of ratty catamarans made of dried drift wood lashed together with seaweed and vines. Their once crimson sails, now faded to a pale pink, billowed and their pontoons splashed in the gentle waves as they progressed.
At the beginning of their journey, there were men and women playing loud instruments. Drums and horns the likes of which Jericho had never seen before. As time went on, however, the islanders' interest in music waned. Those people not integral to the job at hand lazed in the sun, or fished off the sides of their boats. Others sharpened weapons like the Jensai, or other spears which look more useful for throwing.
Jericho was alone. Marika, who had so kindly been his guide mere hours earlier, refused to even ride in the same boat as him. In fact, the vast majority of the islanders had refused so Cap'n stood up and decided to take him in his personal boat. It was bigger than the others, but only slightly, and high atop the tall mast was a tattered flag, a green circle, outlined in gold, emblazoned on a blue triangle of fabric. It looked old, much like the man who commanded the islanders.
"Cap'n . . . " Jericho said after two hours of silence. The sound of his voice cut through the gentle splashing of the water and whistling of the wind almost like a fog horn and he adjusted his volume accordingly. He inspected the weapon in his hand and remembered something. "When the riftmen touched the water in the safety spot . . . it was like they burned up. What was that about?"
"Freshwater bringin' life to you and I, death to dah riftie-man."
"I see . . . and when I stabbed that riftman on the mountain, he started convulsing . . . "
"Aye," Cap'n said, "Devi'shark poison."
"What exactly is a 'Devi'shark'?"
"Devi'shark bein a shark like a iz-land," Cap'n said in his nonchalant way, "giant mouth, all kindsa rippers."
Jericho pulled his limbs in closer to his body now, trying not to touch the water all around him as he imagined a shark the size of an island with poisonous teeth. He decided it was best not to think about it, to focus on other things. "What . . . what happened back there on the island? Why do you think I'm such a strong warrior?"
Cap'n stared at Jericho for a long time, making him feel uncomfortable. "Jericho bein' dangersome war child."
"Why do you think that?" Jericho punched the pontoon on which he sat. "I ran from that fight, I got people killed! It's my fault you guys had to evacuate that island."
Cap'n sigh and put his hand to his brow, Jericho could tell he was working his way through some sort of major problem, or conflict of heart. "There would have come a time when we needed to go either way."
"Whoa . . . what happened? You changed the way you talk."
"Been a long time since I talked like the Crusties." Cap'n said with a nod. "Dare say I still got it in I . . . uh . . . me."
"Who are the Crusties?"
"Doesn't matter. What matters is who are you?"
"I've already told you who I am! Hugh Jericho!"
"Beyond Hugh Jericho. Who are you?"
"I . . . I don't know, I'm an orphan? A coward? An inexperienced twit?"
"More than that. You have a warning from the riftmen."
"Yeah, so?"
"So, how you get that?"
"I guess it's not the first time. I told Marika about when it happened before, when I was a kid."
"How'd you get to the rift, Hugh Jericho?"
YOU ARE READING
The Rift
Science Fiction"Maybe we'll start with the day the sky split open. There was this sound, like a vicious explosion that shook the building and threatened to split our eardrums. I was the first to my feet, I raced the others to the deck and we gawked at the scene be...
