Callum Drift's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

The torch on the south shore went dark. Callum stopped walking. He had followed the moving flame down the beach through the dark, Harper close behind. Now nothing marked the way. He listened. The waves rolled. No voice called back. If the light stayed out, the crew might think no one was coming. They might stop signaling, and he would lose them in the black. "Keep moving," Callum said. "We find where the torch was." He walked faster, eyes on the sand. Ahead, a shape crouched over a dead fire. A middle-aged man with red hair and a short beard knelt in the ash, striking two stones together. Sparks flew and died. His hands shook. "Come on," the man muttered. "Catch, you stubborn thing." He struck again. Nothing. He was Declan Rourke, another of the wrecked crew. Beside him a black-haired woman held a bundle of dry grass ready. Louis, his wife. A dark-haired teenage boy stood over them both, gripping a burnt stick that no longer glowed. Finn. "Declan," Callum called. The man spun, stones raised like weapons. Then his shoulders dropped. "Callum." His voice broke. "The torch died. We had no dry wood left. We thought no one saw." "I saw. All day the smoke, then your flame." Callum knelt beside the dead fire. He took Harper's pack, pulled out the axe, and shaved dry curls from a driftwood plank. "Louis, the grass. Finn, shield the wind." They moved fast. Finn crouched with his arms spread. Louis packed the grass tight. Callum struck the stones over the shavings. A spark caught. He bent low and breathed. A thread of flame climbed. The grass took, then the shavings, then the plank. Declan laughed, wet and short. "You found us in the dark." "Your torch found me," Callum said. He fed the fire until it stood tall. The light spread across their faces. Three more crew, alive. He counted them and felt the weight lift. When the fire held on its own, they took stock of what they had gathered. Declan dragged over a battered metal toolbox, its red paint scratched and its sides dented. "Tools. A hammer, a saw, blades." Louis set down a rugged sealed case and unlatched it. Inside stood rows of manuals, dry and neat behind waterproof walls. "Guides," she said. "How to build, how to treat wounds, how to find water. I kept it dry the whole way." Callum ran his hand over the case. This changed everything. Not just more hands now, but knowledge and tools. "There's a shelter east," he said. "Rowan's leg is hurt. Marian's tending it. We have a signal fire burning." He stood. "We carry all of this back and put it in one place. Then we plan." Declan hefted the toolbox. Finn took the case. Louis smothered the beach fire, and they turned east, following Callum toward the others. For the first time the scattered crew moved as one group, toward one camp.