Cerulean (One Thousand Blues) (11 page)

“Nearly all day. That’s the point of the pilgrimage, though.”

I stare at the scenery. With each corner we round, the sights become even more astounding; painted cliffs and small shrubs frame panoramic views of the island. The Surface is more amazing than I even dreamed.

The road dead-ends onto a small, paved square. The cement patch lays cracked and empty; weeds grow between each gap.

When Captain stops the car, Jesse jumps out and opens the door for me. I ignore him and squeeze past the steering wheel to follow Captain out the other door.

Captain barks orders. “Food and gear are in the trunk. Set up camp first, then begin the cooking. We’re going to have hungry kin up here soon.”

Captain guides me over to a group of odd plants. The thick, green stalks thrust upward, growing higher than any coral I ever found. The tallest nearly reaches my shoulders.

The plant is covered in long thin spikes, similar to a sea urchin’s spines. I finger them and discover silky, silver fibers rather than the poke of the urchin. “What is it?”

“Our sacred silversword. It only grows here, in the House of the Sun.”

“Why would a plant be sacred?”

“Patience, li’l mermaid. Things reveal themselves in due time.” Captain remains silent for a long moment. “It ain’t my business, but you’re mad at the wrong person. Jesse’s just following my directions.”

“Why do you avoid my questions?”

“In due time.” He chuckles and walks away.

I storm over to the nearby railing, but find that focusing on my anger is difficult when I can see
everything
. Clouds hover
below
us! I never knew clouds could be found beneath. I always assumed they would be high above, floating through the azure skies.

The hills and valleys of the island show through the sparse cloud cover. Everything is green. There must be as many shades of green on Land as there are blues in the seas. I cannot wait to learn them all.

Far below, the golden edges of the island meet the brilliant blues of the ocean. We are so high up, so far away, I have to squint to fully make it out. Turning, I see a deep impression, painted in reds and golds.

Pieces click together in my mind. The island, the height, the impression—no,
crater
. Professor S.’s lectures about the wonders of Land repeat in my head. “Is this a…
volcano
?”

Captain grins. “Well, you’re sure a smart one, li’l mermaid.”

“I’m just good with words,” I mutter.

“That underneath learning must not be as bad as I feared.” He pats me on my back. “You’ll make a right good addition to our kin.”

“The House of the Sun is one of the most beautiful places I have seen. Is that why it is sacred?”

Jesse approaches. He exchanges a long look with Captain. “She’ll find out anyway tonight, when the others arrive.”

Captain sits back against a large boulder. He pats the area next to him, and I join him. Jesse crouches across from us.

Finally, I will get some answers.

Captain gives me a long, steady look. “This here’s sacred land because it’s where we survived.”

15

Where they survived? “Do you mean the Disaster?”

“See, I knew you was a sharp one.” Captain leans back against the rock. “What do you know about the Great Disaster?”

“The world was at war—a bigger war than had ever been seen. The history recitations mention world wars, but this conflict spanned the entire… globe.”

“Go on,” urges Captain. He seems interested in discovering what I was taught.

“The old government and its allies began to worry. They feared the warring countries had no limits. Government officials had the foresight to build underwater safe havens to retreat to, if necessary. The ocean was divided into sectors, and a pod complex was built within each sector, with all of the supplies necessary for our survival. Their intelligence and foresight saved our entire people.” The words flow from memory. Every pod member had to learn the history of the sectors and honor the wisdom of our forefathers.

“Foresight.” Captain just shakes his head. “They just took their kakocracy underneath the seas.”

“Kakocracy?”

Captain chuckles. “I probably shouldn’t say on our sacred Sunday. We are at the House of the Sun.”

More avoidance. I move on to the real questions, though. Maybe I will finally get some answers. “How did your people survive up here? I thought the Land was poisoned.”

“There was a group who began making different plans. They didn’t trust the government and didn’t have any desire to be residing in the water, like a fish.”

Jesse points to a small building in the distance. “Our people began to bring food and water up here, stockpiling it in the visitor’s center. They figured the bombings would center on the towns. When the alarms rang, people trucked up here, fifty in all.”

“But… The towns weren’t bombed. The Land was poisoned.” Surely they know this.

Someone appears over the hill. He spins his legs around, powering his curious two-wheeled contraption. A steady stream of riders can be seen behind him.

“Li’l mermaid, the rest of this talk’s going to have to wait for a later time. We have company.” Captain tosses me a bottle of sunscreen, then leaves to greet the rider.

“What is that riding thing?” I smooth another layer of the lotion onto my skin.

“A bicycle. You can always tell the risk-takers in the group. They pop over the hill on their bikes.” Jesse points out a few more riders who appear within our view.

“Why? Are…
bicycles
… dangerous?”

“Not normally. But they sure go fast down the steep roads of this volcano.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to navigate those curves on a bike.”

I imagine the speed, the flight. It sounds thrilling. Maybe I will learn to ride a bicycle. As the sun glows down, bathing my body in its rays, I think again about how the lethargy and despair have not been as bad since Jesse pulled me from the seas. Is the novelty and excitement enough to keep them at bay, or does Land itself keep away the sadness?

“So you are not a risk taker?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jesse says. “I did face a tiger shark to protect you. I’m just not crazy enough to ride a bike down these wild turns. Suicide mission, that is.”

“Suicide? I don’t know that word.”

“It means… taking your own life.”

The rumors of a word for the Unmentionable were true. He said the word, spoke it as easily as any other. The forbidden word—unknown to most in the waters and completely illegal to utter—is part of casual conversation here. My face pales as images of those lost flash through my mind.

Jesse winces. Does he realize the magnitude of what he said? “Err… What about you? Are you a risk taker?”

Distraction is exactly what I need right now. “What do you think?”

“You came to meet me. Was that allowed by your authorities?”

I shake my head. “I try my hardest
not
to listen to the Authority.”

“Well that answers my question, I guess.” Jesse grins. “Next thing I know, you’ll be biking down from here.”

“In the waters, there is no such thing as…
fun
.” I try to explain. “I did take risks, but I needed to, to fight off the apathy.”

“I’ve heard that underneath, people get really down.”

How?
How do these islanders know so much of underneath, when we knew nothing of them? “Who did you hear that from?”

Jesse’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Well, I… Captain told me.”

The black-haired woman from the landing approaches. “Jesse, our kin are hard at work while you relax here. Remember the day.”

He jumps up and joins the cooking crew. The woman remains, looking me over from head to toe. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced. My name is Rachel.”

“Chey.” At her continued stare, I add, “Chevrolet.”

“Hmm. Different.” Rachel watches as Jesse stokes a fire that the meal steams over. “Jesse is my son.”

The trail of walkers slows, and the last few people in line appear: mothers hold infants and toddlers; an elderly woman ambles with a stick in each hand for balance; and a group of children walk hand-in-hand.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for this evening’s ceremony.” Rachel disappears into the growing crowd.

Activity buzzes all around. People laugh and talk and greet one another. I sit and watch. The children run around and play a game, trying to poke each other with a single finger. Someone brings a chair for the older woman and helps her settle into it. We threw around the word community underneath, but watching these islanders, I see for the first time what
community
really is.

Jesse’s mother raises a large bell and hits it three times. The group sinks to the floor, in a circle, surrounding the silverswords. There must be nearly one hundred people gathered together. Jesse crouches on my right side, while Captain sits on my left. Sydney and Danny snuggle close on the other side of the circle.

“Sacred Sunday.” Jesse’s mother moves to the center of the circle.

“Sacred Sunday,” the circle calls back, in unison.

“We gather here to honor the House of the Sun, our protector during the darkest hours. Without this sacred spot, all would be lost.”

Everyone in the circle leans forward until their mouths hover over the ground. Captain’s hand on the back of my neck encourages me to do the same. At the sound of the chime, they kiss the reddish soil. I quickly imitate the motion.

Another man steps into the circle. He wears an odd device, a thin semi-circle of wood with a glistening string holding it together. On his other hip is a pouch; long sticks topped with feathers stick out. “We gather here to honor the Nene. Without the goose’s sacrifice, our kin would not have survived.”

The circle lifts their arms to the sky in one fluid movement. At the sound of the chime, their fingers imitate wings flying through the sky. I copy once more.

A younger woman, dark hair flowing over her tan skin, enters the circle. “We gather here to honor the silversword. This rare plant serves as an example for how to survive, even when there are few of your kind remaining.”

She walks over to Sydney and embraces her. Sydney hugs back, then wraps her arms around Danny. Danny releases her, then turns to the person on his other side. One by one the hug spreads around the circle. Before I realize what is happening, Captain engulfs me in his bulky arms. I stiffen, unsure how to respond.

“Your turn, li’l mermaid,” he whispers in my ear.

I face Jesse and hesitate for a long moment. I was so angry with him, but up here, the feeling of community spreads. And he did begin to share answers. Slowly, I reach out. Jesse wraps his arms around me and squeezes, before turning toward the person on his other side.

I feel the connectedness passing from one to the next. Why don’t we hug more in the waters? This joining might help fight off the sadness.

Jesse’s mother steps forward. “Throughout the day, we have fasted in remembrance of our ancestors’ ordeal. Our stomachs churn with hunger to remember the hard days our kin endured when they had little food. Tonight, we will feast. We honor our ancestors’ sacrifices with our plates of plenty.”

At the mention of food, my stomach gurgles loudly. My body is not used to being empty. In the pod complex, attendance at the three daily meals is mandatory. The dark-haired woman has reentered the circle with a silver tray. She slowly parades around, allowing each person to take an object from the tray.

As she nears, I smell the sweetness of the island’s fruits. When it is my turn, I hesitate. Each variety of fruit looks delicious. I finally choose a bright yellow wedge.

When everyone has a piece in his or her hand, Jesse’s mother calls out again, “Look at the bounty of our island. Smell the aroma of our reclaimed lands. Give joy that our home is tainted no longer.”

The refrain echoes through the group: “We give joy!”

Joy
?
I know what the word means: feelings of
great
happiness. The idea of cultivating happiness—not just regular old happiness, but
great
happiness—stuns me. All this time, it has felt like happiness has evaded me. Was the true problem that I did not spend enough time seeking it out?

“Spread the joy,” the crowd calls, and I taste sweetness as juice runs across my lips.

Jesse holds his orange-hued fruit—
mango
—to my mouth. I try to glance around the circle without moving my head. All around me, people are feeding one another their fruits.

“Hold the pineapple up to me,” he instructs, quietly.

I bite into the mango and juice runs down my chin, while Jesse swallows the pineapple. His warm lips touch the tip of my finger, sending shivers down that arm.

He looks into my eyes as he offers me another nibble of mango. Then Jesse wipes the last dribble of mango juice from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

We are the last to finish the fruit sharing. I quickly turn to face the center of the circle again, cheeks blazing.