Ethereal

The Search

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, refusing to come out even for dinner. Thinking of the people waiting to be enslaved sitting right below me was enough to kill my appetite.

The ship was already docked back at Camp when I woke up the next morning. After I had left Jax’s room last night, I changed out of his clothes and into a pair of loose-fitting pants that stopped mid-shin and begrudgingly into the shirt Jax had let me wear the first night I visited his room. My old shirt was torn almost from the neck down on my left side – probably done at some point during my tussle with Jackson at Sailor’s Cove. I ripped a good five inches off the bottom and tied the remaining fabric into a knot on my hip, rolling the sleeves up until they rested just below my shoulders. Surely Jax had more on his mind right now and wouldn’t bother asking about one missing shirt.

I grabbed the lantern from my room and closed the door softly behind me. I had no other possessions besides the clothes on my back, and those didn’t even belong to me either. I wished for my bag that I had taken with me from the orphanage more than ever. Losing it had been a far greater tragedy than I had expected it would be – what I wouldn’t give to wear some of my own clothes, and most of all to hold the picture I had of my family in my hands again.

I met Stew and Carlo on the top deck, already preparing a rowboat to take us back to shore. Jax was nowhere to be seen, though I would never admit out loud that I was looking for him through the crowd of crewmates hovering around the deck.

I also didn’t see anyone from the Solomon Port trade on deck. They must still be below ship. I couldn’t help but wonder how they were going to get them back to the Camp – was a larger passenger ship going to collect them? Would they have the chance to escape then? Something in my gut told me that even if those people were freed from their chains and were released back into the world, they would still find themselves being herded through the Camp’s door.

I shook my head to clear it of thoughts. There was nothing I could do to help them now without getting myself killed in the process. My heart began beating loudly inside my chest. Is that what Jax thought? That if we tried to help them that we would be killed by Camp officials? Was he just trying to protect me?

“Ready, miss?” Stew said, turning my attention back to him. I nodded, taking his hand as he helped me into the rowboat. The thoughts still swirling in my head, I rubbed the dark skin underneath my eyes.

Stew and Carlo were quiet as the rowboat lowered onto the ocean, passing each other looks every so often when they thought I wasn’t looking. Embarrassment crept up my cheeks. They must have heard Jax and I arguing last night. Considering how loud I was yelling I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the crew heard us too.

Stew tried to make light conversation with me on the trip back to the mainland, and Carlo even attempted to pull me out of my reserve a few times as well. I felt stuck in my mind, unable to stop thinking. Guilt began to tug at my chest once I realized that despite the age and lifestyle difference between the three of us, Stew and Carlo had become my friends at some point in time and they were genuinely trying to help me feel better.

I forced myself to laugh at Stew’s corny jokes until it flowed naturally out of me. I fought with Carlo about my fears of being in the dark, trying to convince him that people my age could still be afraid of such things. We all chatted about what we were going to do once we arrived at mainland. Stew told me that Eli always paid his sailors a small reward fee for having delivered the cargo successfully, and the longer you worked the more you would earn over time.

Stew said he was going to take his money to the only tavern in Camp. Campers were forbidden from having alcohol, but certain officials were known alcoholics, and so no one would give them a second glance if they caught sailors smuggling the liquor in as long as the officials were promised a cut of it. Stew said he was a lover of gin and tonics, as were most of the crew, and that the first night back at Camp they would all celebrate together at the tavern.

Carlo was quiet about what he was going to do once he got back to the mainland, but Stew leaned in and told me that he was off to see his girl the moment we hit land.

Stew asked me what I planned to do with my time now that I wasn’t chopping onions and stealing potatoes. I offered him a weak answer of exploring the rest of Camp, since I had only been there half a day before Eli recruited me and find a place to sleep for the night. I stayed away from talking about my family, feeling oddly reserved about the subject. Maybe it was my nerves keeping me from talking about it, but the moment my feet sunk into the sand and helped pull the rowboat ashore the only thing that I could think about was getting back into the Camp so I could begin my search.

My eyes took in the Camp walls, their vast cement bricks seemed to reach as far as the cloud line. I remembered what Jax had told me about him living there for over twenty years – seeing the starvation, smelling the disease, and witnessing all the death that took place around him. That was what I was so eager to return to? Life has a funny way of keeping the things you love in dark and frightening places.

We waited on the beach for the rest of the crew to come ashore before a line of cars identical to the ones Eli and I rode in approached us from the distance. I took a quick glance around at the other crewmates, my eyes connecting with Jax’s. He was standing off to the side, his blonde hair swept messily over his forehead as he watched me with his honey eyes. They looked darker than usual today, with a rim of shadow hanging underneath them. I looked away far too fast, giving myself away. I thought I could hear the sound of his low chuckle over the ocean wind.

The line of cars grew closer, and I spotted the familiar bald sheen of Eli’s head behind the driver’s seat of the lead car. He stopped the car a few feet away from the crew, the tires spinning up sand in a wide arch. Eli climbed out of the car, still clad in the same blue overalls that he was wearing when I first met him, and walked over to Jax to shake his hand.

“Welcome back,” Eli said, pulling Jax in for a hug. I had assumed that Jax and Eli were close, but I didn’t realize they had reached such a level of comfort with each other.

He bargained with Eli for your life, I said to myself. You can’t get much closer than that.

“Don’t you have anything else to wear besides this ratty old thing? I’ve seen skeletons with a better wardrobe.” Jax said, his words light and teasing. Eli barked in laughter, his head flipping backwards. His eyes caught mine once his laughter had subsided, and he regarded me with interest.

“I see your new sailor made it through her first trip.” Eli said. I knew what he really meant, however: I’m surprised she isn’t dead.

“Who? Mousey? She did just fine. A real natural.” Jax said, not even sparing me so much as a glance in my direction. It felt as though the two were having a discreet conversation between themselves that no one else could pick up on, but I knew it had to do something about their deal. “You look like I could use a drink, old man. Let me buy you a round at the tavern.”

Eli laughed again, his skin wrinkling around his eyes. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

The group dispersed, everyone climbing into different cars with officials behind the wheel. They must not want us to run off on the way back to the Camp, is all that I could gather from this escorted drive. I watched as Jax got into the same car as Eli and the pair drove off together back towards Camp, disappearing over the dunes within minutes. I tried to push down a heavy feeling lingering in my stomach, as though my insides were turning into stone.

I was herded into a car and sat in between Stew and Carlo, the three of us smooched together in the back seat while the driver looked on ahead and said nothing. The ride back was completely silent, but I didn’t mind so much. The sun was directly overhead, sending down a bright ray of heat that was cooled by the ocean breeze. I closed my eyes as I enjoyed the feeling of my hair blowing behind me in the wind.

The car ride back to Camp seemed to take much more time than it did leaving it. My skin was a bright pink by the time we returned to Camp, the car parking just outside of the gate. Trying to ignore the pinch of the sunburn that had crawled up my arms and shoulders, I followed Stew and Carlo as we crossed over the bridge and back into the walls of Camp.

Nothing had changed all that much since my departure several weeks ago. The mud huts and cloth tents were still standing, packed to the brim with sleeping bodies. The ground consisted of several inches of mud that made my feet sink into the ground and made a popping noise whenever I lifted my feet out of it. The smell of urine and gasoline flitted through the air, and in the distance I could hear the bartering of the market as people traded their goods with each other.

Camp was the epitome of death, disease, and hopelessness, all mashed up into one place. Yet somehow these people had turned it into something close to a bustling town, a remnant of home.

“Are ya going to the tavern tonight?” asked Stew.

“Oh,” I said, completely forgetting about the crew’s tradition of celebration and drinks the night of their return. “yeah, sure. I just have to sort some things out, first though. Save me a spot for dinner.”

Stew nodded, but his lips stayed in a thin line as he suddenly turned grim. “Be careful, miss. Some parts of Camp aren’t suited for young ladies such as yourself. Keep to the edges of Camp, closer to the wall. There are more officials watching, so people are less likely to try anything.” Stew said. He glanced behind his shoulder as the rest of the crew continued through Camp, heading towards the tavern. Carlo shot him a look that said hurry this up.

“The tavern is just beyond the marketplace, now. Don’t be late for supper.” Stew said, and gave me a parting pat on the shoulder. I waved to them as they disappeared through the crowd, then realized with a jolt that Eli never gave me my reward fee. I’d have to collect it from him later.

Setting my mind back on task, I turned in the opposite direction and began trailing the edges of Camp, my nervousness growing. Stew’s words had stayed with me, his warning ringing in my ears. He seemed reluctant to leave me alone, and while I would’ve felt better with him and Carlo at my side, I doubted that anyone would answer my questions with two beefy sailors towering over them.

I let out a breath, willing my nerves to calm down. I would meet them for dinner. And if I didn’t show up they would come looking for me, right?

I let my hands trail the rough texture of the Camp wall, my neck arching backwards to see the very top of it. The black scorch marks that I had seen when I first arrived were still there, looking more menacing than ever. On some parts of the wall the scorch marks only came up to my height, while others stretched on for nearly the entire height of the wall. Whatever caused the scorch marks had been one violent ordeal.

Most of the people I passed were either asleep or were cradling young children in their arms, trying to coax them to sleep. I didn’t want to bother them once I saw the marks of exhaustion written on their faces. I kept going, searching for someone who would meet my eyes.

The sun had lowered dramatically the next time I looked up at the sky. I was trying to keep track of time so I wouldn’t be late to the tavern and make Stew and Carlo worry. But I also didn’t want to turn back until I had at least talked to somebody – if the Campers weren’t asleep or busy with their children, they would immediately walk away from me if I tried to approach them. They were skittish of newcomers – and rightfully so.

I caught the eyes of an older woman by a water well, pulling up buckets of brown, tainted water. Though her face was caked in dirt and she bore several harsh lines that gave her a permanent frowning expression, her eyes held a certain focus and intensity that reminded me of the Matrons. I turned and walked towards her, making sure my feet took slow and measured steps so I wouldn’t scare her off.

“Excuse me?” I said.

My voice still frightened her, my footsteps proving to be too quite as my appearance was obviously unexpected. She jumped away from me, her hands still wrapped around the bucket as half of the water came sloshing out and onto the ground. We both looked down at where the water sunk into the mud, and she looked back up at me and glared.

I said, “I’m sorry!” the same moment she said, “What do you want?”

“I just – I was wondering if you knew –“

“Speak up, girl. I don’t have all day.”

I took a deep breath before I opened my mouth again, my hands wrapping around themselves as I picked at one of my nails.

“I’m looking for my family,” I said, “my mother’s name is Elouise Carter, and my father’s name is Henry. They have my color hair and my eyes. There about this tall,” I said, lifting my hand up into the air above my head, “and –“

“Honey,” the woman said, stopping me, “I’m sorry to say but you’ve just described about every other person in the Camp. Unless you got a picture of them, me or anybody else for that matter isn’t gonna be of much help to you.” There was a look in her eyes that told me she felt sorry for me, but there wasn’t much else she could do.

I thought back to the only photo I had of my family. It had been left behind on the train cart with my bag, if someone hadn’t stolen it first then that where it would still be. The likelihood of me finding it now was slim to none, and trying to look for it would only be a waste of time.

I sighed, rubbing my face in an effort to rid the look of disappointment from my skin. “Thanks anyway,” I said, then turned and left.

The people that were willing enough to talk to me said the same thing as the first woman. That without a picture, there was no way they’d be able to tell me anything. One woman with a shaved head told me that my mother’s name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t tell me why.

The sun was sinking lower in the sky, giving me just another hour of daylight left. I began to head back towards the marketplace, then spotted the water well that the woman had been getting water out of earlier. My tongue was dry from walking in the hot sun all day, begging for just a drop of something to wet it.

I threw the bucket down into the water far below, hearing it splash as it made contact. Pulling the lever, the bucket returned filled with the same murky water that I had seen the woman get before. I dipped my finger into the water and put it into my mouth, my mouth curling down as I swallowed the unmistakable taste of dirt.

At least it’s only dirt, I thought to myself. Getting sick from tainted water was the last thing I wanted to deal with right now, but I wouldn’t make it to the tavern without getting at least a handful of water to cool me down.

I dipped my hands in and cupped the water, bringing it close to my mouth. I took slow, cautious sips at first, waiting for my stomach to churn uncomfortably. When it didn’t, I took more greedy sips until half of the bucket was empty.

Throwing the bucket back into the well, I felt much better than I did before. Just as I set my mind to head back towards the tavern, my eyes caught a familiar green cloak that disappeared around the corner of a mud hut.

I followed, forgetting all about Stew and Carlo and the tavern. I zigzagged past mud huts, stepped over people’s outstretched hands as they laid thrown across the dirt floors, and almost lost sight of the green cloak several times before they finally stopped beside a cloth tent. The figure opened the flap and disappeared inside, and I shifted from foot to foot while I waited for them to reappear. Sure enough, there was a moment of silence, and then a squeal of joy, before the tent flap was flung backwards again and a little boy came running out of the tent – with Jax in tow, his green cloak still tied around his shoulders.

I pressed back against the mud hut I was hiding behind, counting to ten before stealing another look. I blinked, hard, trying to see if I was dreaming. Maybe I had passed out from the heat, and this was all just a part of my imagination.

No matter how many times I tried pinching myself, however, did the scene in front of me end. The little boy, no older than six or seven, hanging around Jax’s ankles as he lifted him high up into the air and carried him towards an open court yard where I could see other little children playing. They vanished from my sight, and I crept out from behind my hiding spot to get a better look.

Jax sat the child down and squatted so he was eye level to the boy, his mouth moving as he said something I couldn’t hear. The boy nodded vigorously, clearly excited about whatever Jax had said, and disappeared through a gap between two mud huts. He returned within seconds, his hands full of skins and small black stones.

I stared, dumbfounded, as Jax helped the boy make clumpy mud-snowmen with thin stick arms and mud pies that were garnished with the small rocks. The boy suddenly leaped up and smeared a streak of mud across Jax’s right cheek, catching him by surprise. I gasped, thankfully muffling the noise with my hand, at the child’s actions. I nearly gasped again when Jax began to chuckle, smearing a handful of mud across the child’s face as well.

My eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Jax, the well respected captain of a crew of sailors who bled saltwater, who bargained with foreign ships and played a hand in slave trading, was now knees deep in the mud as he let a little boy wrestle him onto the ground and cover the tips of his hair in mud.

Who was this child? Jax’s brother? A nephew? His son?

I froze at the last thought, scrutinizing the little boy’s appearance and comparing it to Jax’s. Where Jax had blonde hair and brown eyes and had a tall, lean frame, the little boy had black hair and blue eyes and seemed small for his age. They looked nothing alike, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his child.

I pictured Jax with his arms wrapped another girl, one with raven black hair and the same blue eyes as the child prancing in front of me. Jealousy ate at me, my temper only worsening as I continued to watch them play.

With a click of my tongue I turned away, following my footsteps back to the water well once I decided that I had enough. Normally, I loved to be around and play with children, but seeing Jax with the little boy made something ugly rear its head inside my chest.

It’s not the child that’s making you angry, my mind told me. It’s the possibility that there might be another girl other than you that holds his heart.

I kicked up mud with my shoe, splattering it against the wall. Without glancing back I took off towards the tavern, the sound of the Jax and the boy’s giggling ringing in my ears the entire way back.