Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 38 of 54

Darrell led Jake and Marcus into the glass hall. Sunlight fell on rows of potted vegetables. A surgeon in a clean coat spoke with two nurses near a covered bed. Jake saw the equipment he needed for Sofia. But Darrell's smile had gone thin. "I want to help," he said. "But two thousand mouths eat every day. My surgeon, my drugs, my power—all of it costs. I can't spend it on strangers for nothing." Jake's chest tightened. "She's not a stranger to me. She's family." "I believe you," Darrell said. "That doesn't feed my people." He crossed his arms. The tattoos on his forearms flexed. This was the same man who once split a sandwich with Jake at dawn on the truck. Now he weighed lives like cargo. "Give me a reason my council can sign off on. Give me something real." Marcus stepped forward. "We've got nothing to trade. Canned food, maybe. A skiff." His voice dropped. "That won't buy surgery." Jake stared at the gardens climbing the walls. Every crate of soil was crammed tight. Then it landed. He turned to Darrell. "Land. That's what you don't have inside these walls. Room to grow." Darrell's arms uncrossed. "We control a chain of islands offshore," Jake said. "Eighty miles out. One holds caves big enough for a thousand people. Around it are smaller islands—clean soil, open ground, no creatures. We cleared them ourselves." He tapped the crowded planters. "You're stacking dirt in boxes. I've got fields sitting empty." Darrell walked to the glass and looked out at his packed courtyard. "Farmland," he said slowly. "Enough to feed your city for years," Jake said. "You send settlers to work it. Half the harvest ships back to you. The other half stays with us. And you send your surgeon to my island first, for Sofia." Marcus watched Darrell's face. "He's not lying. I've walked those islands." Darrell was quiet a long moment. He looked at the surgeon, then at Jake. "You're asking me to bet doctors and supplies on ground I've never seen." "You're betting on me," Jake said. "You know me." Darrell laughed, short and real, the way he used to over coffee. He put out his hand. "Two years on that truck. You never once cut a corner." They shook. "Deal. My surgeon, equipment, and a medical team go with you. In return, my people settle your islands and we split the crops." Jake gripped his hand hard. The weight lifted off him. Within the hour the courtyard filled with crates. The surgeon packed her bags. Nurses loaded drug boxes and folding gear onto carts. Darrell chose ten settlers to sail out and start the fields. Marcus checked the skiff's load and shook his head at how full it sat. Jake stood at the gate as the medical team gathered behind him. He had what Sofia needed. He also had a new promise—strangers on his islands, mouths he'd sworn to keep out. The alliance was made. Now he had to get it all home across eighty miles of open water.