Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 39 of 54

Jake stood at the enclave gate and stared at the loaded skiff. It sat low in the water, the rail almost touching the surface. The surgeon waited with her medical crates. Ten settlers stood behind her, packs on their backs. Marcus crouched by the boat and shook his head. "One skiff can't carry all this," he said. "Not eighty miles. First wave hits, we sink. Surgeon, gear, everyone gone." Jake counted the crates, then the people. The math did not work. Sofia needed the doctor alive. He could not leave anyone behind on the mainland either. Darrell walked up beside them. He had traded lives like cargo an hour ago. Now he looked at the sinking skiff and frowned. This was the same man who once split a sandwich with Jake on the truck at dawn. "You're going to drown my surgeon before she plants a single seed," Darrell said. "I know," Jake said. "I need more boats. I don't have them." Darrell was quiet. He looked out past the walls toward the water. Then he clapped a hand on Jake's shoulder. "Don't worry, my brother." He turned and shouted to his people. Within minutes two more boats rolled down on trailers, hulls scraping the pavement. "You take three," Darrell said. "Spread the weight. Surgeon in one. Gear in one. Settlers in the last." Jake stared at him. "You're giving me two boats." "I'm giving you a convoy," Darrell said. He grinned, and for a second he was the coworker again. "And I'm sending my own to build on those islands. Domed greenhouses. Glass over the fields so nothing gets in. We grow through winter. We feed both your people and mine." He gripped Jake's hand hard. "We will thrive in this world together." Marcus and the settlers loaded fast. They split the crates across three hulls. Each boat now rode high and steady. Jake felt the weight lift off his chest for the second time that day. The surgeon climbed into the lead boat and secured her bags. Darrell walked Jake to the rail. "One more thing," he said. "Survivors keep coming through my gate. More every week. I can't hold them all inside these walls." He nodded at the water. "I'll send most of them out to you. To work the islands. You've got the room. I've got the people." Jake looked at the three boats, low and full, pointed toward home. He had come for one doctor to save one friend. He was leaving with a fleet, a surgeon, ten farmers, and a promise of many more mouths to feed. Both communities were bound together now. "Deal," Jake said. He climbed into the lead boat and started the engine. The three hulls pulled away from the dock in a line. Behind him, Darrell raised a hand. Ahead lay eighty miles of open water, and an island that would never again be closed.