CHAPTER 21 – AMERIKANS ARE COMING

The Zorah called a band meeting that night. There was little food. Rashelope had found a cache of alganola in an abandoned cabin lower down the mountain and they ate some of it. The breadfruits were stored in one of the empty huts, wrapped in leaves, to give them the best chance of ripening. Sorrel looked around. Everyone was too thin. Most sat alone, their eyes lowered. Only Rashelope still bled every month. At least all the algaskins were full. Sorrel grimaced at the thought of sucking the underside of rocks, of the gelatinous texture of the inner flesh of agave.

Rashelope always spoke first at band meetings – she was their eyes and ears. No one except Caroni knew her story. She was almost 183 centimetres tall and her shoulders were square and strong. She moved through the bush as if on wings. She knew every old road and faint trail to every destroyed town in this part of the island, all the way back to Bana. She navigated the streets of the dying capital city like a wraith. She led a small band of the youngest girls who did whatever she asked. She was the one who brought new members to the band, but there had not been anyone new in months.

“The market is bone dry,” she said. “Nobody has anything to trade or sell. The dump at Oconuco is cleaned out. And the drones are back; dozens of them. The roads are full of Squaddies – I don’t know where they’re finding fuel for their ATVs. We couldn’t get anywhere near Bana this trip – nobody’s coming out either. We’ll starve if we stay here.” She knelt, looking worried. Before, Sorrel had never seen Rashelope look anything but fierce.

Lichen stumbled to her feet. She was one of Rashelope’s roving band; not strong, but small and nimble with a talent for hiding. She hardly ever spoke at band meetings. “Th-there’s talk,” she stammered.

“What kind of talk?” Caroni said. “Speak up, Lichen.”

“T-talk of an invasion from outside. P-people coming here. Northerners.”

“People from off the island? Why, though? There’s no food here and the sea is rising.”

“We still have m-mountains. T-trees in a few places. Water underground.” She pointed to what was all around them. “No w-winter. The big countries – they’re b-burning all the time, even in cold places. Better air here, when there’s no d-dust.”

“Rashelope? Did you hear this too?”

“No. But I trust Lichen. She listens.”

“Where did you hear this, Lichen?”