Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, #2) Read online

  The Rads’ faces are impassive at first glance, but if you know to look, you can see the tightness in their shoulders, the way their jaws clench even when they talk. With so many passengers already having perished during the journey from disease, it won’t be that much of a stretch for the captain to say we, too—or rather the fake passengers whose identities we carry—didn’t survive. It is not without risk, but it is our best option now.

  Shale walks up, studies Ceres's face. Satisfied by whatever he sees there—perhaps that at least there is a hint of animation about her—he turns to me.

  "Here." He hands me one end of a thick length of hemp rope. "We'll tie this around our waists so we can stay together after we've jumped. Once we’ve made sure everyone has resurfaced, we’ll swim to the boats. They should be waiting a few meters out. This rope will ensure that we don’t leave anyone behind."

  I look down at the rope. This is what's meant to keep us all together, after twenty-one days adrift at sea. A single length of twisted fibers.

  Slowly, silently, we take turns looping it around our middles. I make sure to tie the rope above my lower stomach where the baby resides, the stiff fibers threatening to pierce my skin. Shale is careful to tie above his injuries, though he must know that once he hits the sea, the pain will be almost unbearable. But that's nothing compared to what will happen to him—to any of us—if we're still on the ship when it docks in the morning. Around us, the other Rads who’ve decided to jump are also tying their groups together with rope. Some of them, especially the sick ones, are openly weeping, their fevered eyes shining with misery while the healthy members of their group try to calm them.

  Sara ties the rope around herself and Alexander, who she's now positioned on her back. The jarring movement wakes him, and looking around at our faces, he begins to cry. She bounces on the balls of her feet, making soothing noises. I brush the hair back from his forehead and force a smile.

  "It's okay," I say softly. "We're going on an adventure. We're going swimming."

  He looks at me, wide-eyed, his toddler imagination likely flaring at the word adventure.

  A Rad bustles by, and as he passes I hear, "Five minutes. Offload in five minutes."

  I look at Shale and he looks at me. In that moment, I remember the way we were once. I remember his hands on my face, tracing my collar bone. I remember his mouth on mine. But then he blinks and looks away, and the moment dissipates into the sea breeze.

  Shale takes one of my hands and one of Ceres's. Seeing what he means to do, I hold Sara’s hand with my free one, and she, in turn, takes Lucas’s. Lucas completes the circle by holding Ceres’s hand. Shale says, "‘You should be free indeed when your days are not without care nor your nights without a word and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked, unbound.’” He pauses so we all have a chance to absorb the meaning. “A prophet wrote those words more than a century ago. Let’s live them tonight.”

  We walk to the rusted railing, still hand in hand. I wonder whose hand I feel trembling, mine or Sara’s, mine or Shale’s. Before I climb over, I take a moment to look down at the dark sea. It churns restlessly beneath us, eager and willing to swallow us whole. The moonlight-dappled waves, so beautiful when observed from the deck, now seem sinister. If I plunge through to the ocean’s deep, cold depths, I am certain I will find a parallel universe: a sister, a Husband, a would-be mother, waiting for me with open arms.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Standing on the other side of the railing, held back only by my hands on the cold metal behind me, is exhilarating and terrifying at once. It feels wrong in the most intense way; my body crying out to be released from such imminent danger, my mind telling me there is no going back if the fifteen meter drop manages to shock my heart into stopping. There is nothing I can do if the fall damages the baby, causes me to miscarry.

  I wonder if I should feel sorrow or fear at that last thought. But standing here, staring out into the vastness of nature, I am only reminded of how insignificant I am. If the ocean chose to swallow me whole, would the world be any different? Ceres has lived years without me; she'd learn to live so again. And perhaps Shale and I shared something once, but we don't anymore. When those bullets ripped us apart, they tore something fragile, something not yet fully formed that, possibly, can never be repaired.

  The wind whips through my hair, flinging it backward as if my body is, in a last ditch attempt, attempting to clamber back on board. I inhale the sea breeze—salt and moonlight and mystery. My eyes seek out Ceres. She looks down into the depths of the water, seemingly unafraid now. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back weakly.

  There are other people on the wrong side of the railing, other groups who've tied themselves together with rope. I turn just in time to see one of the sick men in the group next to ours lose his handhold and fall, arms pin-wheeling as he disappears into the churning sea. There isn’t even time for his group to scream before his unexpected weight yanks the rest of them off the railing and they plummet one by one into the frigid water below. All that hints at the horror that has just transpired are the soft splashes as they are swallowed by the sea, barely audible over the ship’s turbines. Though awful, I am thankful the details of their impacts are lost in the inky darkness. I turn to Ceres, wanting to reassure her, but her eyes remain steadfastly on the waves below. “G-gone,” she whispers. I read her lips to understand what she’s saying. “Th-the s-sea took...them.”

  “But it won’t take us.” I keep my voice solid and strong, as if I am sure of this fact. Inside, I tremble.

  Shale’s voice is soft but firm, carrying across the wind and the grating whir of the ship's turbines. He is directing our attention away from the group in the water. "When we jump, we will swim east, as discussed. Ready?"

  Sara and I nod. Lucas has his eyes closed, his mouth moving as he recites something to himself.

  Alexander has begun to cry again, but this time, I don't try to comfort him. It seems to me that he should be allowed to feel fear and insecurity and the real possibility that life will never be the same after this. Children are the most honest of us all; they feel what must be felt in any moment without worrying how they must appear to other people.

  "Five. Four." Shale's eyes are steady as he gazes out toward the horizon. "Three."

  I take a deep breath; prepare my body and the baby for the cold that it will feel in two fleeting seconds. I force my mind to think only of unfurling my fingers from the metal railing when Shale counts to zero. One step at a time—it is all I can manage at the moment.

  "Two."

  "One."

  We fly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The cold is like nothing I've experienced; it even masks the pain of having jumped fifteen meters. Once I'm plunged into the utter darkness and frigidness of the ocean, like being submerged in ice, panic courses through me. I kick my legs and arms, trying to buoy my body upward, toward the surface. The rope around my waist tugs me in opposing directions, but I do not think of the other people who must be causing the movement. I think only of myself, of my body, which will perish if it cannot get a breath of oxygen soon enough, I will die, I will die, and then I am at the surface, gasping, coughing, and sucking greedily at the air that is plentiful now.

  Once I am calm, I look around, my vision narrowing so I am aware only of our small group. Sara has surfaced with Alexander coughing and wailing on her back, but thankfully the ship's sounds drown him out. Shale is out, his face in a grimace, likely from the pain his wounds are causing. Lucas is out, wiping water out of his eyes. But where is Ceres?

  I turn, my heart beginning to pound, my shaking hands closing around the rope that is submerged in the water as I tug and tug and tug. My sister, where is my sister? The thought echoes around and around in my head, around and around and—

  "What? What is it?"

  I turn to Shale, who's swum over to me. Seeing my expression, how I clutch the rope, he seems to understand. Without a
nother word, he dives back into the ocean. The surface bubbles for a moment and then stops. I stare at the water, colder than I've ever been in my life, my mouth dry in spite of being drenched seemingly to the bone. I hear Sara trying to speak to me, but I don't understand her words. I don't understand at all.

  And then they break the surface, Ceres coughing and heaving, Shale with his arm wrapped around her upper chest. He lets go and I gather her into my arms, my legs kicking furiously. I wonder how much longer we can all tread water before we are too tired, before we begin to bring each other down. I push the thought out of my mind. One step at a time. Our only job now is to focus on swimming.

  Once Ceres is calm, once I have asked her over and over if she is all right, and she's nodded several times, I release her and we begin to swim. Now that my sister is safe, my brain begins to catalog the dozen other swimmers, dotted along the water’s surface like dead fish rising to the surface.

  As we pass a struggling group, one of the ill, coughing men begins to spew bloody vomit. It looks like tar in the moonlight, spreading slowly across the ocean’s surface. Before another member of his group can go to his aid, the man’s eyes roll back in his head. He goes completely still and his head slips underwater. Another man in his group tries to hold him up, to revive him, but he doesn’t regain consciousness. They will need to cut him loose so he doesn’t endanger their entire group.

  I want to stop and help them, but I know we cannot afford to. I have my own people to take care of, my own family to safeguard. Perhaps in thinking this way I have lost my humanity. But maybe that’s what survival comes down to in the end: sacrificing your humanity to save your family.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  We fall into a rhythm. Shale leads the way. I stay at the back, to make sure that no one strays or gets hurt. We've been warned that the boats cannot call attention to themselves in any way, that they cannot risk being detected by the Chinese because the shore is so near. I can see the lights that dot the mainland like diamonds on a necklace, but it does not seem near to me. I concentrate on my movements: kick and stroke, kick and stroke. There will be time to sleep later.

  Shale is sure and steady as he swims, never once slowing down. I let his speed, his surety, guide me. If he can keep on, then so can I. I must, if not for myself, then for Ceres and for the baby. I wonder what the baby is thinking now, what she feels in these frigid waters, if she wonders what her mother is doing or simply accepts that I've plunged us into the sea. My arms ache and my chest burns from the activity of swimming so fiercely when Shale turns to face us, now swimming backward.

  "We're close," he says softly. "They're up ahead, five or six meters. Do you hear that sound?"

  I squint my eyes and look past him while listening intently. I imagine that I see a dark silhouette of something at that distance, but I cannot be sure. Perhaps it is only my mind, tricking me into thinking the end is near. But then I hear it, the sound Shale is speaking of: the soft swish and splash of rowboat oars. Shale turns and begins to swim forward again. The others follow, their limp strokes transformed by his words. Even Alexander has stopped whimpering.

  As we get closer still, I see that there is a small boat up ahead, no more than three or four meters away now, men in black hats waiting aboard. There are two other boats just like it, off to the sides, all waiting silently for the rest of the fugitives—those who are lucky enough to make it this far.

  When Shale reaches the first boat, they reach out a hand to pull him up. But he turns, hugging the side of the boat, and gestures to Ceres and me. I let Sara and Alexander on after me, and then clamber aboard, exhausted, dizzy, thirsty.

  We are here. We made it.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Ceres and I share a small wooden seat, shivering under a wool blanket that the Rads have given me. They explain to us what the situation is, why we've had to abandon Captain Jerome’s ship.

  "The radio message we intercepted was clear," the first Rad says. "They don't trust Jerome's been completely honest with his reports." He shakes his head as he continues to row. "Poor son of a bitch. When they dock tomorrow, he's going to be taken into custody."

  "Nah," the second Rad counters. "Jerome's solid. He's been doing this so long. He'll take care of himself."

  I think of the captain, his easy smile, his woolly beard. I hope fervently that the first Rad is wrong.

  "How many boats have come out?" My voice is thready, husky. I am dying for a drink of fresh water.

  "Three," the second Rad says. His words are punctuated by the soft slapping of water against the boat’s sides. "Each of them seats four." That explains why we’re all doubled up in these seats, with the Rads standing as they row. There isn’t enough room for everyone. I think back to the man who I witnessed drowning. I wonder how many other fugitives made it to the fishing boats besides us.

  "Where are we going now?" Shale asks. "What's the plan?"

  "We've set up shelters for you," the Rad responds. "Until we can get you new IDs—Chinese IDs—you'll have to stay put."

  Chinese IDs. Of course. I finger the ID from New Amana I still carry in the pocket of my wet clothes. It's useless now. If New Amana knows that we've tricked them by assuming false identities, a quick check of the passenger list will tell them exactly which IDs the fugitives have assumed.

  I put my arm around Ceres and pull her close. Across from us, Sara holds Alexander in her arms and sings him softly to sleep. I meet Shale's eyes, the expression there muted by moonlight. I can't tell what he's thinking.

  I wonder where we are to go from here. What will the shelter be like? And beyond that, the labor camp? How much time will we have to linger there before we must move on again? New Amana will send my information out to China before too much longer. After all, I worked in a respectable position. I had a respectable mother. And I betrayed them all. I’d do it again, I think, looking at Ceres, taking in her pale, exhausted face. I’d make any sacrifice for her in a heartbeat.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Once the boats dock at the shore we are met by yet more Rads. Most of them are men, but there are a few women as well, dressed in black, their faces serious. They hand out jackets and hats and mittens in silence. We put them on with chattering teeth and shaking hands.

  It is winter here, because China still has seasons. I've heard the winters are bitterer than they'd ever been before. I can believe it now, when the frigid wind whips my wet hair against my face.

  When I’ve donned a jacket, I'm marginally warmer. But Ceres’s face is white, her lips a strange shade of blue. I wrap my arms around her. Shale walks toward us and puts an arm around me and Ceres, holding us tight against his torso. I look up at him, startled at the gesture, but he looks straight ahead as a Rad begins to tell us about the shelter to which we're being taken. It is as if this is simply a chore Shale's doing, keeping us warm so we don't succumb to hypothermia. I feel a strange emotion bite at me, something that feels much like disappointment.

  Sara, Lucas, and Alexander are off to the side, listening intently to the Rad describe our next course of action. Reluctantly, I turn to do the same. The Rads guide us to a waiting van the size of a small bus. The back has no seats, and is filled with boxes and crates. One of the Rads, a large man with sculpted, muscular arms, moves one of the large boxes out of the way, reaching for a hidden handle. He lifts the floor to reveal an empty space beneath.

  Gesturing toward it, he says, "It's not the most comfortable, I'm afraid, but it's never failed us. We'll transport you to the shelter, about thirty minutes away if the Monitors don't see us."

  Stopped and searched. I look around at our group. We have a child. How will he react to being in that crumpled position for thirty minutes? If we're stopped and searched, will he be able to keep quiet? But then another Rad, a woman with curly hair, hands Sara something, a cup of liquid of some kind.

  "For the boy," she says. "Makes him sleepy. It's better for the children that way."

  I expect Sara to say no, that she doesn't wa
nt to medicate her child with an unknown substance. But after a quick look toward me, one filled with helpless fear, she complies silently, taking the cup and coaxing Alexander to drink the "juice." He does, and, already tired, lays his head back down on her shoulder.

  We climb into the small compartment and lie on our sides, our knees pulled to our chests to make us as small and compact as possible. I am pressed into Shale’s back while Ceres is pressed into mine. A Rad shuts the lid to the trap with a final clunk, boxing us in and plunging us into darkness. I rest my chin on top of my knees, being careful to take in big, deep breaths. I do not allow myself to think of the air we are all consuming. I do not allow myself to think of the similarities between this space and the coffins of my grandmother's time. It is so dark, I cannot see anyone else. But I can feel them there all the same. I focus on the feeling of my sister. I focus on the promise of freedom.

  The old van shudders to life and we begin to move.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When the van stops rumbling, I jolt awake, wondering at the fact that I fell asleep at all. My head rests against a warm, muscular back and I realize with heat flaring in my cheeks that it is Shale's. I straighten as much as I can, thankful that he doesn’t say anything.

  Ceres's head rests against my shoulder blade, and from the solid weight of it, I can tell she is asleep. Her long, soft hair flows down one of my arms.

  "Wake up," I whisper, and I feel her shift.

  We hear the driver’s door bang shut, and then footsteps coming around. The false floor is lifted, and everyone sits up almost at once. I gulp in the fresh, cold air, thankful that we've made this part of the journey without incident. Shale stands, wincing, his hands smoothing the bandages at his ribs. My own sides ache in sympathy.

  "We're here," the Rad with the muscular arms says, smiling at us. "Not too bad of a journey, eh?"

  Shale smiles lightly while I get up and look around. It is a good thing the moon is out in full force tonight—it acts as a lamp. After the utter darkness of the interior of the van’s trap, my eyes adjust quickly to the moonlit landscape. A fenced salvage yard, a few bare trees scattered around. The van’s warm engine knocks in the chilly night air as we clamber out in silence.