Into the Wilderness: Blood of the Lamb (Book Two) (11 page)

Ruth closed her eyes and fat tears rolled down her cheeks as
she listened to the words. A shaky sigh escaped her lips before she looked again at Maryam. “Very well. If this is what He asks of me, then I will go.”

All four poured over the map as the late afternoon sun beat down on the back of their necks.

“I think we should make haste towards the next nearest island on the map,” Maryam said.

“I don't agree,” said Lazarus. “There's a good chance, from what we've found here and what we know of our own history, that all the people of the small islands
were
destroyed by the Tribulation. I reckon we head for this big island here.” He jabbed his finger at the large landmass labelled Australia.

Joseph cleared his throat. “But my parents rejected that idea when they first planned their escape.”

“Why?” Maryam asked.

“I'm not really sure. All I know is that they rejected it.”

“But didn't you say it was once a great country? Surely, if they were so advanced, the chances are they'd have survived? Think of the wonderful things the people of that time could do—make energy from the skies, turn sea water into fresh…”

Joseph shrugged. “I don't know.” He wiped his hand across his face, swaying with tiredness.

“I say we go,” Ruth broke in.

All three turned, startled to hear her voice an opinion at last.

“We could spend the rest of our lives sailing from island to island and find no help. If you really want to keep going with
this crazy plan, we may as well just head for the place most likely to have the medicines we need.”

“That, Sister,” Lazarus said, raising an eyebrow at Ruth, “is the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say.”

Ruth flushed, and scuffed the deck with her bare toes. She could not meet his eye.

“But how long do you think it'd take to sail there?” Maryam asked.

Joseph measured the distance between Onewēre and Marawa Island with his fingers. “The trip here took just on four days,” he said, plotting the expanse across the blue-tinted ocean between Marawa and the enormous landmass that was Australia. The journey was three times as long. “I guess that means about twelve days.”

“Twelve days?” Ruth's eyes bulged as she took this in.

“Too long,” Maryam and Lazarus said in unison. Maryam ignored his smirk, and turned her attention back to the map. “In that case I think we'd better try for somewhere closer.” She scanned the dots that signified islands, hoping one would miraculously stand out as right. But there were too many, and she felt baffled by the choice.

“I think you should head for the place where you most want to stay,” Joseph said. “There's no point doing it for me.”

“How can you say that?” Maryam reached out for him, skimming her hand down his arm. “You're going to survive, Joseph. We'll see to that.”

“Indeed, cousin,” Lazarus chipped in. “You must not give up now, when we're so close.”

Joseph threw his arms into the air, shaking off Maryam's hand. “Do you think I don't understand how sick I am? You
forget that I've just watched my father die in the same way.” His face was flushed and sweaty, and his sudden movement seemed to dizzy him. He reeled backwards, and would have fallen had not Lazarus seized him by the arm and supported him until he'd stabilised.

Maryam turned away as he struggled to regain his composure, and tried instead to focus on the map. It was hard to see anything through her tears. But she would not give up hope of saving him. Refused.

“There,” she announced, stabbing her finger at a clump of islands further west of Marawa Island. “What about these?”

The other three leaned back in over the map, Lazarus wrapping his arm around Joseph's shoulder as if he were simply being friendly, but Maryam could see the muscles of his arm were straining as he continued to support Joseph's weight.

“Why these and not this?” Lazarus countered, pointing at a larger island to the south. It sat alone, within the pool of blue.

“These are closer to Australia,” she explained. “If there
is
more possibility of help from there, it makes sense to get as close as we can.” She flicked her gaze to Ruth, hoping she'd approve so they need waste no more time. “Besides, with so many islands so close together, surely we're bound to find
someone
who can help.”

Lazarus smiled and gave Joseph's shoulders a playful squeeze. “It seems the rain has cleared both their heads! It's a good suggestion. I agree.”
How arrogant
, Maryam thought. Acting as if the decision rested with him, when he was nothing more than a stowaway. But at least he was not making the decision harder, and for that, she supposed, she was grateful. “Ruth? What about you?”

“I guess.” She hesitated. “You won't forget your promise should we fail?”

Maryam felt the boys' attention fall on her as she replied. “No. If we find those islands offer us no sanctuary, we will return.” She stared squarely at Lazarus, daring him to challenge her. Relief swept over her when he did not.

“All right,” she said, trying to tamp down the trepidation swilling in her stomach. “If everyone's agreed, let's organise ourselves today, then set off again tomorrow at first light.”

Each nodded their agreement, then backed away, leaving the decision to hang in the air over the map like an unwelcome cloud.

Maryam lay next to Joseph as the fire burned down to orange embers, and gave herself over to the pleasure of rest and a break in their preparations. They had renewed their water stores at a nearby stream, amassed a good haul of crabs and shellfish to add to the stash of coconuts and breadfruit they'd discovered nearby, and Lazarus had speared two good-sized fish to fill their bellies before they set off. The sea lapped peacefully against the shore, the long line of its foamy surf iridescent in the scrap of moonlight, while only the odd night bird called from the trees—a welcome reprieve from the day birds' constant squawk and creel.

For the rest of that day Joseph's energy had waned to such a point they'd ordered him to rest, and he had spent much of the evening dozing as the other three worked on. Now Ruth lay sleeping in the boat, and Lazarus had taken himself off up the beach again.

Joseph lay on his back now, with his arm tucked under Maryam's head, and pointed up towards the stars. “See that one,” he said, indicating a bright star at the very edge where the horizon met the sea. “That one I call Tekeaa, after Sister Sarah.”

Maryam felt as though her heart flipped over in her chest as her friend Sarah's dying words came back to her:
When you look up to the stars for help, I will be there.
It was Joseph who'd remained with Sarah—Tekeaa to her birth parents—as she died. Joseph, who now faced death himself. She rolled over to look at him, and saw how his face gleamed in the fire's dying light like the pale underbelly of a stingray in the sea's dark depths. He was caked in sweat, his shirt glued to his skin.

“I will not let you die,” she said. “We
will
find help.”

Joseph leaned towards her and kissed her forehead. “Shhhh,” he said. “Don't spoil our time. Tomorrow we will all be trapped together on the boat again. Tonight is ours.” His teeth flashed as he grinned at her. “I wish I had the strength to swim…I'd take you back out into the water and see what arose!”

Maryam felt herself blush, and slapped him jokingly. “I think I have a fair idea!” How she wished she could transport them back to the previous night, before Lazarus's spying had driven her away. Even the thought of their passionate meeting had the power to drive strange stabs low down into her abdomen—not painful, yet urgent and unsettling all the same.

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to lie with him in that sinful way. But, despite desire, her mind shied away from it. She wanted to be close to him—knew her body came alive under his touch and that it was obvious he felt the same—but the idea of taking it any further terrified her, even though she now lay beside him in this loving way. It
was all too confusing—the last thing she wanted was to ruin their precious friendship by doing something she might regret. Or Joseph might. What if she offered herself to him and then, when he truly looked upon her, he found her too small or ugly to love? The uncertainty, the possible shame, tied her stomach into knots, and for a moment she was glad Lazarus had interrupted them. Maybe she just wasn't ready for that final step. She snuggled in against him, savouring his closeness and the knowledge that, until she felt the time was right, he would not force himself on her as others might.

Joseph's sweat smelt sour and stale.
How uncomfortable he must be in that sticky shirt.
Before she'd even thought it through, she leapt from the sleeping mat and scooped up the container of water she'd placed beside the fire in case he was thirsty in the night. If she could not give him the pleasure he so desired, at least she could help to ease the discomfort of his illness and show him how she felt for him through lesser acts of love. “Take off your shirt!”

For a moment he merely stared at her, his forehead screwed up in a look of confused disbelief. But, then, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth, he did as she asked and handed Maryam his sweat-drenched shirt. His ribcage pressed tightly up against his skin, and the purple bruising of the plague spread dark shadows around his neck. She turned her eyes from it. For this short time she would close her mind to what it meant. She bundled up the shirt into a ball and poured a little of the water over it. Then, most tenderly, she began to wash his face. His eyes widened in surprise but, as she continued to wipe away the salty sweat, he closed them, lying back and tucking his hands under his head with a beatific smile.

The minutes seemed to stretch and slow: all she was aware of was the steady rhythm of the tide as it beat time to the soothing journey of her hands. She rinsed his face, his neck, his shoulders, the soft hairs that grew under his arms, his chest, and, finally, his white concave belly, which quivered and contracted beneath her touch. Then, with hands made brave by the deepening darkness as the fire burnt itself out, she carefully undid his belt—daring not look at his pressing groin. A dart of longing shot through her but she willed herself not to get caught up in its dangerous barb. Instead, she focused on the cleansing as he raised his hips to help her slip his trousers off, and then she washed his legs and feet, working the damp cloth into the cracks between his toes.

When she dared glance up at him, she found him watching her with hungry eyes. Again, her abdomen contracted.
Lord, forgive me for my brazenness.

“Come here,” he rasped, barely able to speak the words.

She shook her head, never so doubtful of her own self-control as her blood seared through her veins and her pulse beat out a primitive call to act. It would be so easy now to give in to the urge…Instead, she reached with trembling hands for the blanket she had used to prop his head, and spread it over him to keep the evening chills away.

For a few tense moments he closed his eyes and she watched his struggle to accept her decision play across his face. But then he sighed and met her gaze, holding out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation now, confident he understood, and slid herself back down beside him until they lay there touching nose to nose.

Maryam woke well before dawn, lying on her back beneath the blanket she had shared with Joseph after the residual heat of the fire had fled. Today they would set off again. She knew she should be frightened but right now all she felt was a kind of bittersweet joy, remembering how she had fallen asleep in the comforting embrace of Joseph's arms.

His breathing was laboured as she rolled off the mat and made her way down to the sea before the others awoke. A waning moon still lurked in the grey pre-dawn, its face a cool silver above the breeze-ruffled surface of the sea.

She washed and dressed while the sun rose and lit the horizon of the eastern sky. Red light filtered through a veil of streaky clouds, as if staining the heavens with blood. She shuddered at the sight, aware that such colour did not bode well. Somewhere out beyond the horizon a storm must be brewing. But they could not afford to delay their departure—every hour mattered when Te Matee Iai was on the move. They would just have to pray the winds were working in their favour, pushing the storm away to the east.

Lazarus walked up the beach, barely glancing at Maryam as he went to work rebuilding the fire. Joseph awoke at the noise and instantly began to cough, the harsh sound competing with the snap of wood as Lazarus broke up brittle branches to stack in a pile. Joseph met Maryam's worried gaze, trying to smile through the spasms that rocked him as he coughed.

“Good morning,” he said to her, once he'd caught his breath. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” she said. She passed him a cup of water. “Did you?” She could feel Lazarus's scathing gaze upon her as he worked.

Joseph gulped the whole cupful down, then stretched and rose shakily to his feet. He grinned. “Never better in my life.”

From his position by the fire Lazarus snorted. He blew on the small dry ball of bracken he'd pushed into the embers until a wispy trail of smoke streamed into the air. “I hate to break up your little love nest, Sister Maryam, but I suggest you wake up Ruth. We'll need a good breakfast before we get under way.”

His tone was typically superior, as though he spoke to a lesser being. But Maryam decided not to let his attitude rankle her this day—there was too much at stake for argument. Instead, she simply nodded and climbed aboard the boat. The tide was coming in steadily, lifting the boat from its bed of sand to wallow in the restless shallows as though raring to go. Its timing was perfect—they would need the high tide to manoeuvre the boat back out to sea.

“Time to move,” Maryam said, grabbing Ruth's exposed leg and shaking it. She slid her fingers to the sole of Ruth's foot, tickling at the hard pad of skin with her jagged nails.

Ruth squealed and rolled into a ball, tucking her feet out of Maryam's reach. “Don't!” Then she peered up into Maryam's face, not quite meeting her eye. “You did not sleep in here last night?”

“No,” Maryam murmured, heat flooding up her neck. She busied herself collecting the ingredients for breakfast, leaving Ruth to make of her answer what she wished. The night had been too special—too private—to share even with her.

“You didn't let him…touch you?”

The unbridled disgust in Ruth's voice filled Maryam with
shame. She understood Ruth's reaction but she knew Ruth would not believe she could strip Joseph, bathe him, and lie next to him for the whole night without committing some sinful act.

“No. I stayed with him to give him comfort, that was all,” Maryam said, backing from the shelter. “I didn't want him to be alone.” She knew she sounded brusque and impatient but needed to cut off any further questions before Ruth pressed her into confessing something she'd misconstrue.

“What about me? You didn't think that maybe I was lying here alone in need of comfort too? We're sailing off into the void…” Ruth shrugged, unable to finish her sentence. Her eyes filled with tears.

Why was
she
the one who always had to consider others, Maryam wondered. Was she not allowed, for once, to indulge her own selfish needs? She sighed, immediately regretting such an uncharitable thought. Of course Ruth needed her as well: she was younger, and lost and frightened in an unknown world.

“I'm sorry, Ruthie. I didn't mean to leave you feeling all alone. It's just I'm scared Joseph will die.” She hated having to say the words, worried that giving them voice might somehow make them real.

Ruth's defensiveness relaxed a little. “Don't worry, we'll save him. I'm sure of that. If the Lord told you to continue on our journey till we find him help, then He will watch over Joseph and keep him safe until we do.”

Maryam forced a confident smile. “I'm sure you're right. But look, we've a lot to do before we go. Can you help with breakfast?” She turned and quickly climbed down from the boat, desperate to draw the conversation to a close. There was
nothing to be gained from it, and she hated holding back from Ruth.

By the time they'd eaten the last soused remnants of Lazarus's fish, the red had faded from the sky, leaving them with the beginnings of an overcast day. Already the heat was so oppressive that Maryam found herself covered with sweat despite her early morning swim. There was a strange charged feel to the air, as if it had soaked up all their anxieties. But there was no turning back now: they had all agreed to carry on.

They carefully extinguished the fire and packed the last of their belongings back into the boat. The plan was simple enough: Joseph would work the tiller while the other three ensured they made it safely through the passage in the reef. Lazarus and Ruth, much stronger than Maryam, untied the mooring ropes from the series of boulders and Maryam carefully coiled them on the deck. She prepared the small storm-sail, ready to raise it as soon as they had cleared the beach, then took up her position at the prow—directing the others as they manhandled the boat around in the shallow surf.

As soon as she could feel the boat floating free, Maryam ran back to raise the sail. She felt the wind tug at the woven cloth as Ruth and Lazarus gave the boat one final shove towards the reef then leapt aboard, water spraying out around them as they hauled themselves onto the deck.

Now Lazarus helped Maryam secure the sail, then the three of them took up their positions to help guide Joseph as he steered directly for the break. The tide was nearly at its zenith, and Maryam realised that the obstacles they'd encountered on their approach to the island were diminished by the increased depth of water under the boat. Accompanied by the reeling,
shrieking host of birds, they made it out through the passage without a glitch, and soon found themselves sailing smoothly on the ocean's broad rolling back.

Once the mainsail had been lifted and secured in place, they gathered together by the tiller to discuss their route. The direction of the wind was hard to gauge, the pennant strung from the big main mast flapping and curling in a confused dance. But long ribbons of cloud were travelling westwards with them, and so they pushed the boom of the big mainsail out to its farthest extreme, allowing the sail to balloon with air as they set a broad reach downwind, straight for the west.

Joseph handed the tiller over to Maryam, taking himself off to the shelter to steal some rest. Ruth and Lazarus sat down next to her, shifting only when they were needed to adjust the ropes. As the boat skimmed the short chop, gliding effortlessly down the rounded peaks of swell, the undulation of the sea lulled each of them into an insular, meditative mood.

By the time they'd been at sea two hours, Marawa Island once again appeared the stuff of dreams—a lush exotic backdrop that belied the death and destruction hidden at its core. How often she had found this true, Maryam thought—what looked good on the surface was rotten beneath.

Behind them, the clouds had now formed into a murky bank. Its dense dark underbelly clung close to the horizon line while, perching on its brooding back, lighter wind-wracked cumulus boiled and tumbled in a knotted mass.

Lazarus shook his head slowly as he studied the sky, his mouth pinching into a tight thin line. “We'd better keep an eye on that. If it gets any closer we'll have to haul down the sails.”

“Perhaps we should head back for land?” Ruth offered,
sounding briefly buoyed by the thought of a reprieve from this new voyage.

It is tempting
, Maryam thought. She'd have loved nothing more than to fly back to the safety of dry land. But they were making good progress across the sea, and to turn back now was to rob Joseph of what precious little life he may have left. “We have no time,” she said, surprised to find herself looking to Lazarus to back her up.

He grunted, turning away from the looming storm clouds to meet Maryam's eye. “Let's tie down everything that could wash loose,” he said. “At least, then, if it does catch up, we'll be prepared.”

“Good plan,” she said, wishing she had thought of this herself. “Ruthie, how about you take the tiller and I'll help secure the boat?”

Ruth, her eyes growing wide with worry, shuffled over on her knees to take Maryam's place at the tiller as the other two began to lash the storm-sail to the outside of the shelter wall. Then, with the sturdiest of the ropes, they tied the shelter itself even more securely to the beams that formed the structure of the deck, all the while watching as the storm bank seemed to deepen and darken in the east, moving ever closer with alarming speed. Already it had consumed Marawa, shrouding it without a trace, and the wind that drove the clouds now raced ahead and started to cut up the sea.

Between them, Maryam and Lazarus reefed in the main, reluctant to take it down completely in case they could still outrun the storm. The sky had emptied of birds, their incessant noise replaced by the creaking of the boat's timbers as it sliced its way through the increasingly sloppy chop.

Disturbed by all the activity on deck, Joseph had now re-emerged from the shelter. He stood face on to the wind, holding tightly to the aft rail as he studied the steady build-up of the clouds. The light seemed to have been sucked from the sky, turning everything around them to a dull and chilling steely grey. Maryam finished tying off the last of her ropes and joined him at the rail.

“Let's hope it passes over us as quickly as yesterday's rainstorm,” she said, covering his long white fingers with her own small brown hand. She huddled into him, and they swayed in unison as the wind stirred the sea and pitched the hulls.

He flipped his hand over and wove his fingers in through hers. “I fear it could be much, much worse.”

She did not bother questioning his judgement—born and raised on an island in the middle of the vast ocean, all of them knew how to read the skies. She, too, knew the signs were very bad.

“You must stay inside the shelter once the weather strikes,” she told him. “The last thing you need right now is to worsen your chill.”

“That's ridiculous,” he said. “You'll need me if the sea gets rough.”

“Maryam's right,” Ruth broke in. “Between the three of us I'm sure we'll cope.” Her tone belied her words; she sounded tremulous and very young.

Now Lazarus joined them at the aft rail as well. “You must make sure you keep dry,” he said to Joseph, punching him playfully on the arm. “You're wet enough without another dunking from the skies!”

Joseph blushed. “I thought I'd left my mother behind,” he countered, trying to smile. But, standing so close to him,
Maryam could see how his reference to his mother saddened him. His chin quivered as he fought to get his feelings for her back under control.

His dignity was saved by an unexpected gust that squalled across the water, throwing spray up in its path as it whipped the tops off the choppy waves and slammed directly into the stern. As the wind hit the sail, the whole boat heeled dramatically to port, pitching the four off-balance and leaving them scrabbling for footing. “Quick,” Lazarus cried to Joseph, “for the love of the Lord get back into the shelter now.”

Joseph reached for Maryam, blatantly kissing her on the lips right there in front of Lazarus and Ruth, before he made his way back to the shelter—the angry hunch of his shoulders leaving none of them in any doubt of his displeasure at being relegated back inside.

Maryam had no time to worry about the others' response, as another squall raced across the sea towards them. Already she was pushing Ruth aside from her position at the helm, making ready to counter the force of the wind as it hit the boat and pitched it like a child's toy. She gripped the smooth wooden tiller with both hands, using the full weight of her body to hold it to its course, while Lazarus shouted curt instructions to Ruth as they tried to stabilise the flapping sail.

These two vicious squalls turned out to be the first harbingers of the storm itself. The sky was now a solid mass of black, the clouds swarming so close above their heads it felt as if the whole roof of the world was caving in and pressing down on them. And the waves it pushed at them were huge and angry, licking up against the hulls as though they would swallow them whole.