361 Years After Landing

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Macy wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and angled the brim of her hat to block the glare of the bright afternoon sun. Every day was warm on Halora, but today was unusually hot, and there wasn’t a spot on her that didn’t feel damp with perspiration.

Her knees sank into the soft dirt as she crawled forward. Tall stalks of corn towered over her to either side, planted in neat rows, and the scent of earth and growing plants permeated the air. She stopped when she reached a mass of red vines.

She dug her fingers into the ground to grasp as much of the crimson creeper’s root as possible. When she pulled up, the plant resisted briefly before coming loose with a spray of dirt. The thin, red vines were harmless for a few days, but they quickly killed most Earth-crops when left untended. Macy shoved it into the bulging sack of weeds hanging over her shoulder.

“Ugh!” exclaimed Aymee from the next row of corn. “I should’ve stayed at the Doc’s today. If I keep volunteering to help you here on the slow days, I’ll be walking like an old crone before the year’s out.”

Macy chuckled and shook her head as she pulled up another root. “Guess we’ll be old crones together.”

“You better believe it.”

There was a rustle of leaves; Macy glanced up as the stalks parted and Aymee poked her grinning face through. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back and stuffed beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat, just like Macy’s, and her brown eyes danced with humor. “Wasn’t that the plan? To cause mischief together until we’re so old that nobody will believe we’d cause trouble anymore?”

“You are the mischief maker, Aymee.” Macy tore up another cluster of roots and stuffed it into the sack.

“Yeah, and you’re always the voice of reason.” Aymee rolled her eyes. “Admit it, Mace. Without me, your life would be dull.”

Macy sat on her heels, stretched her sore back, and rested her hands on her thighs.

Life in The Watch was monotonous. Each day bled into the next with little deviation; everyone had a job to perform, and the entire community’s prosperity was dependent on those duties being performed. Sure, people usually gathered for food, drink, and song after dark, but even that had become predictable and routine.

Aymee brought a hint of unpredictability. She added color to life, and that made it all a little more bearable.

Guilt filled Macy.

She should feel the same about Camrin. Where Aymee exuded vitality, Camrin was a steady presence she could always count on.

Camrin’s father, like Macy’s, was a fisherman. It had always been expected that Macy and Camrin would form a relationship and eventually join — they’d been friends since they were toddlers, and their parents had always been close. Much to the delight of their families, Camrin had begun courting Macy when she’d come of age at eighteen.

Macy was approaching twenty-five; most people had already joined their partner and started a family by her age. Camrin had always been sweet, had never pushed her, but she sensed he wasn’t going to wait much longer.

Her guilt morphed into anxiousness. It curled in her gut, tying her stomach into knots. As much as she cared for Camrin, she couldn’t see life with him as anything beyond the same routines. The same thing she’d been doing all along.

“Macy? You okay?”

“What?” Macy asked, blinking. She met her friend’s gaze.

Aymee carefully squeezed between the stalks, crawling into Macy’s row. “You had this look on your face. Like you were going to be ill.”

Macy lifted her hands to rub her eyes, stopping abruptly when she noticed the dirt clinging to her gloves. She dropped her hands back to her lap. “Camrin wants to take me on his boat tonight.”

“What? You hate the water! Camrin knows that!”

Macy turned her palms up and stared at them as she brushed away the clumps of dirt. “He said he wants to show me something. A place he found while he was sailing. And I…I need to do better, Aymee. Be better. For him. He deserves it.”

“Oh, Mace!” Aymee knelt before Macy and took her hands. “You don’t need to be better for anyone! Why are you settling?”

“Settling?” Macy flicked her eyes up to meet Aymee’s. “I’m not settling.”

“You are. Camrin’s a wonderful guy. Hardworking, patient, kind. He’ll make a great life partner—”

“I know—”

“—but not for you. I know you, Macy. I know what they expect of you. But this is your life. Just because your parents want it doesn’t mean you have to.”

Macy pulled her hands away. “I can’t disappoint them. Not again.” She’d already caused her parents enough heartache and grief.

“Do you love him?” There was no judgment in Aymee’s question; she was as close to being a sister to Macy as anyone could be and knew the guilt Macy carried in her heart every day.

“Of course,” Macy said, more defensively than she meant to. Loving him wasn’t the same as being in love with him, but it had to be enough. “I think…he’s going to ask me tonight.”

“Tonight?” Aymee’s eyes were wide, her jaw agape. “He’s going to ask you tonight?”

Macy nodded.

“Mace…you know I have your back, right? No matter what you choose, I’ll always support you. I just want you to be happy. You sure about this?”

Swallowing, Macy nodded again. “You said it yourself, Aymee. He’ll make a wonderful partner. It’s about time I make some effort to be the woman he deserves.”

He deserves so much better.

Despite her guilt, despite her misgivings, she would try. She’d spend the rest of her life trying to make him happy. Her doubts would fade after they were joined, and she would view him differently. She’d see the man, rather than the boy she’d grown up with. Her love for him would change and grow.

Wouldn’t it?

“I better go,” Macy said, brushing dirt from her knees as she stood. “I need to wash up and pack before I go meet him.”

“Pack?” Aymee rose with a frown. “You’re going to be out there all night?”

Macy took in a deep breath. “I trust Camrin. Wherever he’s taking me, it’ll be safe.”

The fear slinking through her chest didn’t diminish.

“You’re right. I just…” Aymee sighed and smiled. “Be careful, okay? I expect to see you when you get back, so we can keep working toward being old crones together.”

Tears blurred Macy’s eyes, but she laughed, and stepped forward to embrace her friend. Aymee squeezed her tight.

“I love you,” Macy said.

“Love you too, Mace. Even if you stink.”

Macy drew back. “What? Do I?”

“Can’t meet Camrin reeking of sweat and dirt, can you? Go on.” Aymee waved her hands, shooing Macy away. “I’ll see you when you get back, and I expect to hear everything.”

Laughing, Macy said goodbye and maneuvered through the rows of corn. When she finally emerged, she stretched her aching legs and back and walked to the burner. She upended the sack, dumping the weeds into the flames, and turned to stow the pouch and gloves in the battered metal locker nearby.

“Leaving early? That isn’t like you, Miss Macy.”

She turned and smiled. “Hello, Uncle Malcolm.”

He limped toward her, his gait slow but steady, his expression full of its usual warmth. Malcolm wasn’t related to her — he only had his wife, Tammy, as far as Macy knew — but his amiability and kindness toward everyone had earned him the title of Uncle to most of the town.

Uncle Malcolm worked in the greenhouses and fields, just like Macy, but he’d been a mechanic when he was younger. He’d worked on the complex machines that had been brought to Halora during the colonization, had kept them running for the good of The Watch. But time hadn’t been kind to the old equipment; every year, more of it broke down, never to run again. After Malcolm was injured by one, he taught another man his trade and went on to different duties.

“Where you off to, girl?” he asked.

“Home. I need to get cleaned up before I meet Camrin.”

“Truly?” He grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “Don’t let me hold you up, then. Tell that boy to make his move already, or a more experienced suitor might move in.”

Macy chuckled and gently patted his whiskered cheek. “Aunt Tammy would have something to say about that.”

Malcolm snorted. “You’re right. Wouldn’t want a limp in the other leg, too, would I? Already takes me half the day to walk across town.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” She asked before thinking.

“And keep your man waiting? Get on with you, girl.”

Though it felt dishonest, she smiled at him before continuing toward town; the sinking feeling in her gut had returned. She knew she’d only offered to walk with Malcolm to delay the looming excursion. Glancing at the sun, she increased her pace. If she wanted to wash and change without being late, she’d have to hurry.

This was important to Camrin. Macy didn’t want to disappoint him.

It was only fifteen meters from the edge of the cornfield to The Watch’s outermost buildings — several tall, metal silos constructed for storing crops in the early days. Macy walked between two of them and onto the dirt road leading into town. She passed between pastures and smaller fields without noticing; she’d made this walk almost every day for years and knew the sights by heart.

The lighthouse was the first building in the town proper to come into view. It towered over everything else from its perch on the cape. The structures immediately around it were all from the colonization — metal and concrete, built for functionality and durability. They were weatherworn and sun-faded but had withstood the test of time thanks to their tough materials and diligent maintenance. Most of them stood near the edge of the cliffs, overlooking the sea.

In Macy’s eye, it was the newer buildings that gave The Watch its true character. They were all more haphazard affairs, constructed of native wood and repurposed scrap — taken from broken-down machinery and structures that had lost their purpose — and so lacked the precision of the original structures. But they were hand-built, crafted with pride, care, and no small amount of trial-and-error.

That meant something.

The dirt path gave way first to cobblestones and then to the original concrete roads as Macy entered town. She greeted the townsfolk she passed with smiles, waves, and pleasantries, betraying nothing of the turmoil inside. It was no one’s burden but her own.

Her home was an old residence near the ramp to the dock. It was empty when she arrived, and she was relieved. Her mother could be difficult to deal with even on good days; Macy didn’t think she could handle her now.

She slipped into her room and packed a change of clothing and a few necessities, hesitating when she saw what she’d decided to wear for tonight. It was a white, knee-length dress her mother had made in anticipation of this occasion. Of Macy’s joining. The dress was finer than anything else she owned. She held it up by the shoulders, running her fingertips over the soft, silky material, and cringed as it caught on her callouses.

Laying the dress on her bed, she went to the bathroom, undressed, and ran a cold, wet, soapy cloth over her body, scrubbing away dirt and sweat. After rinsing off, she brushed her hair and returned to her room.

Macy allowed herself no hesitation this time; she picked up the dress and pulled it over her head. The fabric flowed over her body as easily as water. She hurriedly buttoned the front and turned to the mirror.

The dress was held up by two thin straps, and the hem hung just above her knees. It was lovely, nothing like the rugged work clothes she normally wore.

She longed to tear it off.

A stranger stared at her from the mirror. There was no sparkle of happiness in the woman’s eyes, no joy in her expression; nothing that said she was going to join with the man she loved. There was only fear. Regret. Shame.

Life with Camrin wouldn’t be bad. He’d work hard to keep Macy content, and they had been close friends since childhood. But it would always be missing something. It would always be somehow empty at heart because she would forever hold back a part of herself.

She’d try; it was all she could do.

Macy stood straighter and forced a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was enough. Enough to hide the conflict raging within…because, as though her reservations about joining with Camrin weren’t enough to deal with, he was taking her out on the ocean.

She moved to the wooden box atop the nightstand and held her hands over the lid. Swallowing, she opened the box. Inside lay a necklace — strands of thin rope, braided around a light green rock. Such stones could be found anywhere along the beach. They held no value, save to imaginative children who saw nothing but wonder when it came to the sea. And to Macy; it was priceless to her.

The necklace was all she had left of Sarina.

Macy lifted it from the box and gently closed it in her fist, which she pressed to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sting of tears. Her throat tightened with overwhelming guilt. Sarina would never join with anyone, would never make her own home, would never grow up.

Releasing a long, shuddering breath, she replaced the necklace.

“I can do this.”

She closed the lid, fingertips lingering on the smooth wood, and nodded.

“Camrin’s been on boats since before he could walk. He knows what he’s doing.”

After slipping on her shoes, she collected her pack, took another steadying breath, and departed for the dock.

The concrete road descended gradually, angling down from the cliffs to the ocean below. Macy’s heart beat faster with each step. The wide loading platform at the base of the path was a meter above the water — mid tide. There were a few workers there, strapping together barrels of fish to haul up to the warehouse with the crane.

She greeted them as she walked by, and worried they’d see through her forced pleasantries.

The dock stretched before her, floating atop the sea; the first few sections were angled downward to meet the water’s current level. They felt solid enough beneath her feet as she stepped on, but the dock’s swaying was undeniable as she proceeded. The sound of the ocean filled her ears, raising goosebumps on her arms.

It’d been so long since she last stepped foot here.

Camrin was near the end. When he looked up and noticed her approaching, he waved, a huge grin on his face.

He dropped the rope he’d been fiddling with and strode toward Macy, quickening to a run as he drew closer, until finally he took her by the waist and drew her close. Her stomach lurched, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“I missed you,” he said, either not noticing or unaware of the desperate way she clutched his shoulders, and lowered his mouth to claim hers.

He’d kissed her before, but never like this. This was more than a brief brush of lips, more than a stolen peck. This was intimate, eager…sealing.

Macy stood still, willing it to end. Longing for solid ground beneath her feet.

“That’s enough, you two,” said a familiar voice behind her.

Camrin paused and lifted his head, grin returning. His blue eyes were bright as they shifted to look past her.

“I expect you to take care of her,” Breckett said, placing a big hand on Macy’s shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. “You look beautiful, Macy.”

“Thanks, dad.” She turned, slipping out of Camrin’s hold, and hugged her father. She shut her eyes as his big arms encircled her. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, smoothing down her hair.

“You’ll be fine, Macy girl.”

She nodded, wishing she believed him. Needing to believe him.

“You know…you can tell him to forget it,” he whispered to her, voice gruff. “Your heart isn’t with the sea, anymore, and that’s no fault of yours.”

She strengthened her hold on him as tears pricked her eyes. She’d loved the water when she was young. Loved the sea. The rhythm of the tides, the light sparkling atop the water, the boundless possibilities; it had spoken to her. Her parents could barely keep her away from it…and that had been the problem.

“I’ll be okay, dad.” She hoped her words didn’t sound as hollow to him as they did to her.

Breckett sighed, long and slow, turned his head, and kissed her cheek. “All right.” He released her, tugging his fingers through his thick beard.

She stepped back. “Tell mom I love her, and I’ll see her when I get back.”

“I will. You two enjoy yourselves.”

“We will,” Camrin said, taking Macy’s hand and twining their fingers.

Just before Breckett turned to leave, Macy caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes. Fighting back tears of her own, she allowed Camrin to lead her to his boat.

At six meters long, it was one of the smaller boats, but it was Camrin’s pride. He’d dreamt of having his own boat since they were children. Its sleek, wooden hull rode the surface with a shallow draft. He was as familiar with the coastal waters as any of the more experienced fishermen and handled his boat as naturally as most people walked.

He helped her over the railing, and her heart nearly stopped as the boat swayed beneath her.

“There you go, Mace.” He followed behind her.

Macy sat on the bench and clenched the rail as his weight rocked the boat. Leaning over the side, he untied the rope anchoring them to the dock, coiled it up, and turned to raise the sails. The wind filled them as Camrin adjusted the boom and sat down at the rudder.

When she was seven or eight, Macy would’ve given anything to have a boat of her own. She’d dreamt of sailing whether awake or asleep, and when she wasn’t out with her father, had spent her time watching all the holos about ships and the sea she could find — not easy, when only a few buildings had fully functioning electricity, and most of the projectors were worn with age.

That had been before she learned how dangerous and unforgiving the sea could be.

The wind swept the boat away from The Watch and toward the horizon. It flowed through her hair, ruffled her dress, and caressed her skin. It had been so long…

Gradually, her grip on the rail loosed. She shifted her eyes to gently rolling water.

“Nervous?” Camrin asked.

She glanced at him; he watched her with a smile and swept his tousled red hair back from his forehead.

“Yes.”

He tied off the boom, slid closer, and gently pried her hands from the railing. Massaging her stiff fingers, he lifted them to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before lowering their hands into her lap.

“I know you’re scared, Mace. I honestly didn’t think you’d come…but seeing you on the dock…” He squeezed her hands, and his smile widened. “It meant the world to me. You’re facing your biggest fear…for me.”

Her eyes watered, but she didn’t look away.

It’s not enough. You deserve more.

She blinked, and teardrops spilled down her cheek.

“Aw, Mace, don’t cry.” Camrin released one of her hands and brushed the moisture from her cheeks. He smiled. “I haven’t told you how beautiful you look. I’ve never seen—” He cleared his throat and touched one of her shoulder straps. “Is this for me?”

Macy nodded. “My mom made it.”

He leaned closer and cupped her chin. “I can’t wait to make you mine. I’ve waited so long.”

Camrin kissed her like he had on the dock. She curled her hands into fists on her lap, clenching the delicate fabric of her dress. His lips were soft, but demanding, and soon she felt the press of his tongue. She opened her mouth with the shock of it, and his tongue delved inside.

I can’t do this.

Macy recoiled, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him from following.

Kissing him was like kissing a brother; if that made her feel ill, what would joining with him be like?

“Where are we going?” she asked, keeping her tone pleasant to mask her discomfort.

I can’t do this.

Camrin licked his lips, chuckled, and returned to the rudder, giving no indication that he noticed her discomfort. “You’ll see. The moment I saw it, I knew you’d love it.”

They sailed in silence, and Macy’s muscles eased over time. She lifted her face to the wind, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the warm rays of the setting sun on her skin. She breathed in the brine, recalling the time she’d spent on her father’s boat. She…missed it.

The boat lurched in a sudden blast of wind. Macy grappled for the rail, eyes flashing open.

“Shit!” Camrin leapt to his feet.

She turned her head to look at him, and the breath fled her lungs.

Ominous clouds darkened the sky behind them, and — in the far distance — she could make out the flash of light from the lighthouse. The signal only meant one thing.

Get off the water.

The wind hit them again, bringing a chill.

“Camrin…”

“I know, Mace! Just…stay calm.” He unraveled the rope securing the boom, wound it around his arm, and braced his legs.

A web of lightning spread across the clouds, followed by a roll of thunder. It reverberated through the sky, rattling the rigging and mast. Swelling waves lifted the boat and water splashed over the sides.

“W-we need to go back!” she cried, but she knew there was no turning around. You didn’t sail into a storm. “Camrin, we need to get off the water!”

“I know, Macy!” His shouts were nearly lost in another blast of thunder. “We’re almost there!”

She looked toward the bow which was directed at the horizon; the last sliver of daylight vanished, leaving only a faint crimson afterglow just over the water. The darkness thickened behind them as the storm was sped closer on strengthening winds. The angry ocean thrashed around the boat, and water pooled at Macy’s feet.

Another clap of thunder; stinging rain pelted Macy.

She swept her gaze across the rolling waves, searching the shoreline for a safe place to land, but only steep, high cliffs were in sight.

“Hold on tight!” Camrin shouted. His wide eyes were full of fear, his face pale and strained in the dimming twilight.

Macy followed his gaze away from the land. Ice crystallized in her veins; the sea was cresting, forming a massive wave alongside them.

“Camrin!”

“Get down!”

She dove to the floor and wrapped her arms around the base of the mast. Water swirled around her, and the boom groaned as Camrin battled the wind; he was trying to turn them into the wave to avoid being hit broadside.

For a fleeting instant, everything was still and silent. Macy dared not open her eyes. Then the ship dropped and rose suddenly, sickeningly, and the crash of the wave overwhelmed all her senses simultaneously. The world spun. The sea tore her away from the mast, and the current carried her into darkness. The water surrounding her muted the cacophony of the storm.

She kicked, uncertain of which way was up, lungs burning. Finally, she broke the surface. The terrible sound of the storm and the violent waves was deafening. Macy gasped, fighting to keep her head up.

“Camrin!”

It was too dark, too chaotic. The all-encompassing sea, boundless and untamable, dominated her vision.

“Camrin!”

Lightning flashed, lighting up the water, and she saw his dark shape. Too far.

If he called her name, she didn’t hear — the storm, the waves, and her own thundering heart were too loud.

More water crashed over her, forcing her under. Once again, she struggled to the surface, sputtering and gasping for air. The waves carried her away from the cliffs, away from Camrin, away from home. She was alone in the darkness. Alone in the open sea.

Just like Sarina.

Macy’s limbs grew weak. She could barely take a breath without water filling her mouth.

Though it only delayed the inevitable, Macy fought.

Wave after wave battered her. Each time she went under, she surfaced a little slower. Each time, more of her strength fled. She remembered that day on the beach, so long ago. Remembered how she’d struggled against drowning.

Remembered how long Sarina had struggled.

When she was forced underwater again, Macy stopped fighting.

Her body sank deeper. Her chest was on fire.

What little air had remained in her lungs bubbled from her nose and mouth, and she closed her eyes as awareness slipped away.

The last thing she felt before blackness fell over her was a pair of arms wrapping around her torso.