I looked up at the painting again.
“Because he needs you, Aron, and I think you need him too. And right now, I need you to say yes so I don’t have to worry about what will happen to him.”
As a tear rolled down my cheek, I got up and walked to window and looked outside. Something moved up in the palm tree, and I realized it was William’s feet, visible just below the roofline. Every kid had a favorite hiding spot and that tree was his. I wondered if he could hear us way up there.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” I kept looking outside so she wouldn’t have a chance to read my crappy poker face. “I promise to take care of him, but you’ve gotta promise me something too. You can’t die… not yet. Okay?” I turned and looked into her eyes, “Just promise me that.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes, smiled, and nodded. I knew that it was a promise she couldn’t keep. I just hoped that when the time came, I could keep my end of the bargain.
Chapter 7
It was late afternoon by the time Kamish dropped me off on North Point. We hadn’t spoken much on the trip over. What was there to say? His brothers died while getting me to Male. It was my fault. He’d never say it, but he had to be thinking it.
After the boat left, I walked up to the shack. Before stowing my gear, I checked to see if Jin had replied to any of my messages. Still nothing. That sense that something was wrong grew a little stronger. But there was nothing I could do about it now. Climbing the ladder to the observation deck, I spent the rest of the day scanning the ocean for unidentified vessels that I knew wouldn’t be out there. It didn’t matter. Searching an empty ocean helped keep my mind off Jin, the Council, Sarah… everything.
From the deck, I had an unobstructed, three-hundred-and-sixty degree view. There was nothing out there but water and a tiny sliver of an island called Bandos. It sat a mile and a half south of North Point and was barely visible even with my binoculars.
As the evening sky darkened, I let the binoculars hang from the strap and I sat back into the plastic beach chair. I watched the sun as it sank into the ocean. And when the last rays finally disappeared below the horizon, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and willed my body to relax. It was nighttime, which meant that I was safe. Nobody in their right mind would try to navigate the maze of reefs that fenced the northern entrance to the atoll. And they’d have to be completely insane to try it at night.
I took another deep breath and opened my eyes, drinking in the western sky. It was alight with hues of blue, orange, and pink. As I watched the colors slowly melt together, a pang of nostalgia coursed through me. Kelly and I had once watched a sunset like this from the top of Bishop’s Peak in San Luis Obispo. The nostalgia quickly turned in to sadness as I tried to imagine what a sunset must look like there now. The colors in the sky dimmed along with my spirits, so I climbed down the rickety ladder and went into the shack.
Hastily constructed following the raid on Embudu, the one-room structure served as an early warning post. Barren except for a handful of scrub brush that had somehow found the will to live in the crevices of the dead coral and sand, the island itself was a perfect place for an observation post. It was positioned at the northernmost tip of the atoll and the view from the observation deck was totally unobstructed.
The only electricity on the island came from a small solar panel that powered the cameras on the observation deck. There was no plumbing, no air conditioning, no food, and no water. Everything I needed to survive I had to bring myself. Two five-gallon jugs of water and a plastic crate filled with food sat in the corner. I called that corner the kitchen. The other three corners were designated as the bedroom, the living room, and the office. The bathroom was outside. The toilet was a large flat rock that hung out over a small tide pool. It was the easiest place to maintain balance while squatting. And nature took care of flushing the toilet.
This shack was nothing like the huts on Lohifushi. With its earthen floor and palm frond walls, the shack took the word austere to a whole new level. The huts on Lohifushi were designed to look rustic for the tourists who wanted an authentic island experience without sacrificing any of the modern conveniences of home. The curtains, manufactured to look like hand woven fibers, were made from a fiber optic solar fabric that helped power each hut. There was even air conditioning, although I hadn’t used mine in over eight years. The sweltering heat and humid nights were a thing of the past. The weather now was more like what I had grown up with back on the central coast of California, pleasant days and cool nights.
Smiling at the simplicity of the place, I unrolled my data mat and set it down on the office floor. With a few flicks of my finger, I opened the surveillance app. A four-paned window appeared on the screen, each pane displaying a view from each of the four cameras mounted on the deck. The cameras had already switched themselves to night vision mode. It wasn’t like the modern, full-color, three-dimensional night vision system that was built into car windshields. No, these were basic infrared cameras that showed objects in ghostly black and white. It was all that Rick and I could manage given the parts we had to work with.
I made sure the app was fully operational and then stood up and stretched. The dim light of the data mat reflected off the snorkeling mask perched on top of the fishing gear. I had brought it along with a snorkel, fins, spear gun, and fishing pole. With any luck, I’d get a chance to do some fishing and maybe even snorkel off the reef. There was nothing like fresh fish cooked over an open fire in the middle of nowhere.
North Point sat off of a reef that extended out a hundred feet before dropping off a massive underwater cliff. What tropical fish were still around were usually swimming along the cliff’s edge. The fishing was nothing like when I had first arrived here, but it was better than nothing.
The soothing cadence of the waves lapping the shore filled the room. The more I listened to it, the sleepier I got. It had been a long day and I decided to turn in for the night. But I had to run my radio checks first.
I sat down on my bed roll and flicked an icon on the sidebar of the data mat. A communications panel opened. I clicked the address icon and a long list appeared. As I scrolled through the list, I only found three addresses that were colored green. Green meant that the data mat was within range for voice and video communications. People on watches and patrols were the only ones besides the MDF who could use that communication channel.
I clicked on Dhonakulhi and waited as the word CONNECTING blinked on the screen. With a ping, the word changed to CONNECTED and a small window opened. Inside the window was a familiar brown face. I knew who it was, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember his name.
“Dhonakulhi, this is North Point with a radio check. How do you read me?” I asked.
“I see you fine, Aron. How are you? It has been a long time.”
I fumbled for his name. It started with an A. “I’m good, how are you doing?”
“Very good, but very tired. I do not know if you heard, but Nisha had twins last month. I have been awake every night with crying babies, so I volunteered for the nightshift. I figured that I had a better chance of getting some sleep.” He chuckled and his hoarse laughter triggered my memory. It was Anand. He had helped me put up the tower on Dhonakulhi, but that was… what… almost eight years ago? He had been maybe twenty then.
I remembered how he had asked us for advice on how to convince Nisha’s father to let him marry her. I don’t remember what we told him, but it must have worked. And I remembered that he had played the sitar by the campfire at night. “Are you still playing the sitar, Anand?”