Free Some Fine Day by Kat Ross Page A

you’re supposed to pronounce it. I’m half northern stock myself, after all.
    I try for a withering look. “Unfortunately, I do.”
    Will’s eyes go flat. “You don’t get it. Listen to what I’m telling you, for God’s sake. I’ve seen him tear people apart. I don’t know where you come from, what you think you know, but trust me on this one. You’re not even remotely a match for Bob. And don’t think he’ll hold back, because he won’t.”
    This irritates me. When you’re short, and a girl, nobody takes you seriously. Until you convince them otherwise. “You're right. You don't know me. You don't the first thing about me,” I say haughtily. “And they were about to toss me into the sea, in case you’ve forgotten. The captain made it clear that us pikas are pretty well despised around here. Unless we have something to offer, something you need.”
    “And what do you have?” he asks in a sarcastic tone that irritates me further. “Besides excessive optimism.”
    “You’ll see,” I say, stepping out to the deck.
    It’s cool up here and not too bright, which gives my eyes a chance to adjust to the outside world again. The cavern is immense, extending back about a hundred yards, where the water disappears into a wide fissure. We climb down a ladder to a waiting rowboat and Will takes the oars, facing me. His eyes are a stormy blue-grey and his nose is slightly crooked, like it’s been broken a few times.
    “Do you have family on board?” I ask.
    “They’re dead,” he says, eyes fixed on a distant point over my left shoulder.
    “Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
    “It was a long time ago,” he replies, in a tone that discourages any more questions on the topic.
    I chew on my bottom lip. Long silences are not my strong suit. They make me prone to babble, especially when I’m already nervous. I try to size him up without being too obvious about it. His dirty-blonde hair is twisted into a topknot, and he’s wearing the same jean shorts, this time with a frayed T-shirt that might have been black once but is now just a colorless grey.
    As a matter of habit, my first instinct on meeting a new person is to try to figure out if I could beat them in a fight. At the Academy, this is not idle speculation. Will’s a lot taller. Not bulky like Jake, but with hard, lean muscle on his chest and arms. I’d say he has about sixty pounds on me. I bet I’m faster though. So probably an even match, if he’s had any training.
    “Where’d you learn medicine?” I ask after a while.
    “Books. I know a lot about plants, so I make natural remedies when we run out of drugs.”
    “Does that happen a lot?”
    “All the time.”
    “You mean, like paper books?”
    He looks at me oddly. “Yes, paper books.”
    This amazes me. “Hardly anyonet uses those anymore. They cost a fortune. Where do you get them?”
    “Here and there.”
    Thick forest slides by on our right. Many of the trees are missing their canopies. It looks like a giant hand came down and snapped off the trunks halfway up. My fear of the storms, which until now has taken a back seat to my fear of Bob, comes surging back.
    “Are there animals on these islands?” I say, trying to distract the panicking, lizard part of my brain that just wants to dig a deep hole and hide there.
    “You ask a lot of questions.”
    “Just curious. If there are people, maybe there are animals too.”
    Will turns the rowboat toward the sandy shoreline of the lagoon. “Some small game, but anything too big to hide got wiped out. The ones that could, moved on a long time ago, mainly toward the poles. Birds do the best. Most species are programmed to migrate anyway, and they sense when the storms are coming, days or even weeks ahead.”
    More boats are pulled up on the shore ahead of us, mostly rubber Zodiacs with electric outboards, and I see several dozen people unloading crates and carrying them into the jungle. There are kids too, which surprises me a little. The