The next day I’m back fishing with Jag and his da, Uncle Sorren. I’ve asked the littlies to bring things up to show Aunty Gerra, like their favourite chook or the biggest egg, or if any interesting fish or salvage come back on the boats today. Like Jag said, maybe they’ll be better than me at convincing her we’re good. This is where I wanna be, out fishing.
We’re pulling out of our bay in Licorice Stix when Jag’s da says, ‘You know what I noticed last night? I noticed that red light not flashing.’ He rubs his fingertips through his beard, making a scratchy sound. He turns and looks right at me, making me suck in my breath and think for excuses. Then he says, ‘I reckon maybe they turned it off. I sure am glad about that. Not natural, that flashing light.’
I look back at the hill, and nod. ‘Reckon so,’ I say and rub my chin too.
We live simply coz our folks learned that what people do can damage the planet. We have our shared electric stovetops, our boats only use sails or little solar motors, our lamps is solar rechargeable or have little crank handles, and luckily for us, before the risen sea came flooding in, there was already enough fabrics, and clothes, and things like pots and plates, chairs and beds, to keep the world going for a very long time, so we don’t even need to take down any of our trees. We salvage anything we need.
There’s still people living in cities, the people who could afford to move to high ground when the cities relocated. Most of them way south of here, away from the endless heat. But most of our folks were pushed from their homes by flooding and hunger, and they couldn’t afford to be more than beggars in the cities. They don’t ever want to live in a way where they could get that hungry or in danger of getting sick again, so now we live off the sea.
Jag’s da, Sorren, lost two small sons, and he and his wife fled here but she was still too weak when she had Jag, and died anyway. Jag was born here and fed by some of the mothers in the village, including my ma who was nursing me. He’s a true child of the village, his da says, and he don’t ever wanna live anywhere where small boys get thin and sick and die while rich people get fat.
‘Weird thing that light,’ Sorren says. ‘I hope Marta can figure out what it’s all about.’
‘Makes me angry, the way they put it there without our saying so,’ Jag says.
Jag’s da sighs. ‘Anger is hardly ever useful, son.’
We sail out to our favourite fishing spot and I hook two tiddlers that I apologise to and throw back before Uncle Sorren hooks a keeper. Jag hooks a keeper too, but it’s a female full of eggs so we put her back too, or we’ll have no fish to feed Jag’s da when he’s old and grey.
We try another spot, and haul in four more large fish, then we pack up. Five large fish can easy feed twenty people and two other fishing boats went out today, so we don’t need anymore.
We’re done real quick so I ask, ‘Can we go see Jacob’s Reach?’ I tell Jag’s da that I think I can get to the bottom of the mystery of what happened to the siblings if I talk to the kids there.
‘It’s too dangerous, Neoma,’ he says. ‘Coz what if you’re right?’
‘You believe me?’ I ask him.
‘I don’t know for sure,’ he says.
‘Drop me off and I’ll walk around the back of the village. I jus’ wanna check out their hilltop, see if there’s any starting of a circle there. If we know Jacob is lying, we’ll know he’s covering up,’ I say.
‘Yeah, Da,’ Jag says. ‘Coz what if the Valley of the Sun people come and blame us? Shouldn’t we know for sure whether we can send them on to look at Jacob’s Reach?’
‘You kids!’ Uncle Sorren says like we’s nagging him. ‘I been worrying about the same thing. I saw how it was when the sea rose and the governments retreated to the cities, saying if you want any protection move to the slums. They turned their backs on the upcountry folk, them not set up to manage a spread of islands and mountain ranges, and not able to feed the city as it was. The people that stepped in to try and control the thieving after they left were no better than thieves themselves, their laws made up and changing on a whim, so they could line their own pockets. I’m worried that if we don’t know what happened to Gerra and her siblings, we’ll be blamed.’ He swings Licorice Stix about. ‘We’ll drop you off, Neoma, you go up the back of the hill, stay out of sight, jus’ to check the hilltop. Not to talk to anyone. We’ll go to the jetty for a visit, offer them a couple of fish as gifts to keep their eyes busy, and we’ll catch a couple more on the way home to replace them.’
‘Good plan,’ I say, grinning coz I can’t believe I got an adult to agree to this! Uncle Sorren is real nice.
