Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 43 of 54

The northern threat had a name now, but no numbers. Jake sat with Marisol at the radio table and stared at the coast maps. He did not know how many creatures the tyrant bred, or when they would come. Blind was worse than any storm. "We need eyes on the north," he said. "And better walls." He decided to go to Darrell at the enclave. Marisol set her jaw. "I'm going with you this time," she said. Jake had learned not to argue with his wife. "Okay," he said. Sofia took the babies. Marcus said he would hold the island. Then Jake and Marisol pushed off toward the mainland. The walls of Heartward Enclave rose above the dock like a castle. Gardens spilled over the towers. Darrell met them at the iron gate, wrench-callused hands crossed over his chest. He and Jake had hauled trash together in another life. "Married man," Darrell said, looking at Marisol. "And you brought your brains this time." He grinned, but his eyes were hard. He had heard about the north too. Jake laid it out inside the gate. "A tyrant 250 miles north breeds smarter creatures. We can't count them. We can't see them coming." Darrell nodded slowly. "So we're both blind," he said. "Ships could reach us before we knew." Marisol had been quiet. Now she spoke. "Then stop looking from the ground." She pulled a folded sketch from her pocket and spread it on a crate. Lines, a rotor, a light frame. "A flying machine," she said. "Small. Electric. I can build it from parts in your electronics halls. We fly it north and count what he has." Darrell leaned over the drawing. "You can make this fly?" "I built a radio from a broom handle," she said. "Give me the parts." They worked three days. Darrell's people brought motors, batteries, and light aluminum from the mall shops. Marisol wired the frame while Jake fetched and held. On the fourth morning the machine lifted off the enclave wall, wobbled, then steadied. A small camera hung under it. Marisol flew it north along the coast until the signal thinned, then brought it home. That night they watched the footage on a cracked screen. Jake's stomach turned. Pens. Rows of pens along the northern water, each packed with pale, twitching shapes. Boats lined the docks below them, flat and wide, built to carry. Marisol counted out loud and stopped at two hundred. "That's just what we saw," she said. "There's more inland." Jake sat back. The blindness was gone. Now he knew. The tyrant had an army of creatures and the boats to move them. "He's not building a wall," Jake said. "He's building an invasion." Darrell's grin was gone. "When?" he asked. Marisol pointed at the loaded boats. "They're already packing," she said. Jake stood. The island had a number now, and the number said the north was coming by sea.