Pilgrims Page 11

  Fritz was shivering.

  “Keep him warm,” Father had said. But how?

  “Utz,” Fritz’s voice was weak.

  “I’m here.”

  “You’ll have to be the heir now.”

  “What? No. You’re going to be OK.”

  Fritz groped for Utz.

  Utz took his brother’s hand in his own. Fritz’s hand was so cold!

  “Make Father proud. For me.”

  “No, no, you’ll be fine.” Tears streamed down Utz’s face.

  “Promise me.”

  “Of course, I promise. But it’s crazy; you’ll be fine.” Fritz had to be fine. Because there was nothing without his brother, his other half. “I promise,” Utz whispered. “Just stay with me.”

  The medical team arrived three hours later. Utz’s flashlight had long since gone dead. For endless hours and days and years and eons, he had sat in the dark and cradled his twin brother and tried to keep him warm.

  And failed.

  It was bad luck, they said. If they’d been able to get there in fifteen minutes, Fritz might have had a chance because his injuries weren’t that bad. Lying there in the cold and without treatment, though, he went into traumatic shock, and that’s what killed him.

  It was just an accident, they said. No one could predict that a quake would strike while they were underground. No one could have predicted the chaos from the quake that would prevent help from coming quickly.

  It’s not your fault, they said.

  When they took Fritz away, Utz stared at his father’s back. He crouched over the place where Fritz had died and cried. He raised his eyes to the rock ceiling and cried out his anger and grief.

  Utz huddled against a wall, just watching. Alone.

  When Father finally came to himself, he stood and looked around. His eyes found Utz, but they were empty. He shook his head, and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He stammered, “F-F-Fritz?”

  Utz could only whisper his name, “Utz.”

  Father grimaced and shivered. “Utz, not Fritz.”

  The words echoed in the cave tunnel, an angry snarl that wound around Utz until he covered his head with his arms, as if the words were pummeling him.

  Silence. Peering through his arms, Utz watched his father.

  Father stood silent for long moments, eyes closed, fists clenched. Then, without a word, he turned and trudged toward the cave entrance.

  Utz almost stayed there. Alone. Where he wouldn’t have to see that look in his father’s eye. Every time Father saw Utz, he’d see instead the son he’d lost.

  But Utz had promised his brother. Promised! The only thing he clung to was that promise. He would make his Father proud of him—for Fritz’s sake.

  But how? He wasn’t Fritz and never would be.

  It had been a hollow promise.

  Father looked at Utz and Derry. Suddenly, he stood, gripped Utz’s forearms, pulled him closer, and stared. “Utz,” he whispered.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “You’re Utz. And you have a future.”

  “Yes,” Utz whispered, guilt stinging his eyes because he wasn’t Fritz.

  “You and—” he glanced at Derry, but apparently, he couldn’t think of her name. He waved at her.

  “Me and Derry,” Utz said gently. “We’re going to Earth.”

  Father dropped Utz’s arms and leaned back, slumping against the sofa pillows. “Yes. You should go.”

  Utz licked his lips, hating that he couldn’t just rush away, that he had to ask the next question. “Will you help us?”

  Father roused himself and sat up. “What do you need?”

  “I need to negotiate with Ancel Fallstar to smuggle Godzilla to Earth. Derry goes along as Godzilla’s caretaker.”

  Father nodded slowly. “Good plan. Derry’s leg—I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice. Well, it’s a good plan.”

  “Will you pay Fallstar whatever he asks?” Utz held his breath. He had no way to pay and Ancel would demand thousands of US dollars, Indian rupees, or Japanese yen. But surely Father had reserves in Earth currencies.

  “What?”

  Utz repeated carefully. “Ancel will want the same fee for taking the shark pup to Earth as he did for bringing the pair of great whites here. Will you pay him for me?”

  Before he even finished speaking, Father was shaking his head. “No. You pay your own way. No.”

  “Father.” A lifetime of frustration spilled over into Utz’s voice. “You know I have nothing because I’m so young. And these are different times. Traditions don’t matter now, only survival. Please, give me—give us—a future.”

  The King rose and paced back and forth before the fireplace. “No, no, no,” he murmured to himself. “They have to earn their fortunes, just as you did.” He shook his massive head and argued with himself. “But there’s no time.”

  In the Bo-See kingdom, family money was never inherited until after a person turned thirty-five or forty years old. It forced young men to work for their living and to find their own way. Utz saw the wisdom in it. But the planet’s pending destruction changed everything.

  Finally, King Seehafer threw up his hands and turned to Utz. “No.”

  Utz froze, holding his father’s gaze. He desperately wanted to be angry with his father, to be bitter with rage. Instead, he understood. King Pharomond Seehafer was a Bo-See, through and through. He couldn’t leave Rison because he’d be lost in a foreign society. Utz had to leave and take nothing with him. He was on his own.

  “I’m sorry, Fritz,” he thought. “I’ll never make this man proud of me.”

  He nodded to the King—to his father—in understanding.

  The King’s jaw twitched, but he held himself rigid.

  Utz turned his back on his father. He tucked Derry’s hand into the crook of his elbow. Slowly, Utz and Derry walked away without looking back.

  Fishing

  Before Jake could even wake properly, Utz was gone. A few minutes later, he saw the space craft lift off and speed east. Jake groaned to himself. They were stranded and at the mercy of that crazy Seehafer.

  With a shrug, he decided to go down to the beach, find a paddle board, and swim out to the island where they found starfish yesterday afternoon. No one seemed to know the habits of these starfish. Maybe the males and females got together at dawn. He shrugged. In any case, a morning swim would do him good.

  But first, he stole into Dr. Mangot’s bedroom to check on her.

  Captain Bulmer had dragged a lounge chair from the porch to her room and now dozed beside her. His eyes popped open at Jake’s entry. Instantly, he put a finger to his mouth to keep Jake quiet.

  He turned back to Dr. Mangot and scrunched his face in concern.

  Jake turned away, embarrassed by the show of emotion.

  Captain Bulmer stood, light on his feet, and tiptoed to the door, pushing Jake outside.

  “What?” Captain Bulmer said.

  “Just checking on her. Is her fever still high?” Jake asked.

  “Yes,” Captain Bulmer said. “But she’s about due for more antibiotics. She told me it might take 24 to 48 hours before the fever broke.”

  “So, she’s doing as well as expected,” Jake said.

  Captain Bulmer shook his head. “No, she needs to get well. You don’t understand how important she is to our people. She can’t just die.”

  Jake was puzzled by his passion. “She volunteered to come, knowing that she might get sick.”

  “And I wish I was the one sick, not her,” Captain Bulmer said. “It’s hard to watch someone you l—” He stopped himself. Then squared his shoulders and said again. “It’s hard to watch someone you love when they’re sick.”

  Jake stepped back and crossed his arms against the raw emotion. “Ah, yes. Hard.”

  “What did you want to tell me?” Captain Bulmer said.

  “I’m going to the dock to fish for breakfast. Do you need anything before I go?

  Captain
Bulmer rubbed a hand over his face. “Can you give me 5 minutes to clean up a bit?”

  Jake nodded. “Sure. I’ll sit with her for a few minutes.”

  Captain Bulmer went toward his room while Jake went inside and perched on the edge of the lounge. Dr. Mangot’s breathing was loud, and her face was pink with fever. He found himself breathing in time with her breaths.

  This is what Em was like when she was sick, he told himself. They hadn’t allowed him to be there. Maybe that was part of his problem with Captain Bulmer’s emotions. Because he’d been robbed of the opportunity to watch over Em while she was sick. Even now, he longed to be with her, to hold her up and support her as she walked. He wanted to warn her to slow down so she wouldn’t relapse. Instead, he was here on Rison watching Dr. Mangot.

  Jake suddenly wanted to know how sick she was. Touching the thermometer to her forehead, it read 102F degrees. Still too hot. Her face was flushed. She’d braided her thick hair, but tiny tendrils escaped and curled around her face, giving her an oddly girlish look.

  Captain Bulmer came in quietly. He’d changed into fresh clothes, washed his face and combed his hair. He’d be competent and efficient as Dr. Mangot’s nurse.

  Jake stood and crept to the door. He whispered, “I’ll bring you some breakfast when it’s ready.”

  Captain Bulmer nodded without looking. Instead, he held Dr. Mangot’s hand in his and watched her face. Jake left and shut the door quietly behind him.

  The sun was barely over the horizon when Jake walked down to the beach. Mitzi was on the dock fishing, so he went out and leaned on the rough wood, chin in hands, to stare at the water. Crystal clear, the bay was teeming with fish.

  “What are you trying to catch?”

  She shrugged. Her blond hair was curling in the humidity. She wore a white t-shirt with a red swimming suit under it, and ragged shorts. Barefoot, she was tanned and beautiful. It was tempting to flirt with her.

  But she wasn’t Em.

  He looked away, remembering how Em looked so intense right before a swim meet, her hair squished into a swim cap and her dark eyes flashing.

  “Fishing for breakfast,” Mitzi said. She spoke in English, and her command of the language was good, even if it did have a heavy Risonian accent.

  Jake could’ve answered in a Bo-See dialect, but replied in English because that’s what she’d chosen. “Good idea. Got another pole?”

  She nodded toward a shack and said, “Take what you like.”

  Jake was back soon with a pole and some lures. But Mitzi handed him a worm instead.

  “Lures are for when you’re out deep. Here, they like something wiggly.”

  Jake nodded his thanks, baited his hook and dropped it in. The fishing poles were just poles with a long line and a bobber. Not the fancy rod and reels that Jake had seen on Earth. It was all they needed here.

  “So, what’s up with you?” Mitzi asked. “You haven’t come by the village to meet anyone.”

  “We’ve been busy,” Jake said.

  “You’re a Quad-de. The girls would be glad to meet you.”

  Jake was embarrassed. He knew his name would interest some girls, but not the kind of girls that would interest him. Jake shrugged. “Oh. Well, I’ve got a girlfriend.”

  “A human? You went off-planet and found someone?” Her voice was ironic. “All the good ones here, and you gotta go for a human.” She shook her head.

  Jake didn’t want to get into an argument about where he chose friends, so he said nothing.

  Her line jumped. She pulled in a small orange fish and said, “It’s a good one to pan fry. I just need a couple more.”

  Jake nodded and jiggled his own bait.

  Mitzi baited her hook again, stepped away a couple feet, and dropped the line again.

  “You know, I left here when I was eleven,” Jake said evenly. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen. When I left, I didn’t even know girls existed.”

  “Oh, Quad-de, we know what you are. You were always destined to have a human girlfriend.”

  Jake gulped. She was right. Probably everyone on Rison knew that Swann was only his step-father. When they saw Blake, it was obvious to everyone but Earthlings that Blake was his father. They’d never tried to hide it. But it had never been obvious to Jake that he had to wind up with a human girlfriend.

  “How’s the fishing?” Captain Bulmer stood at the edge of the dock.

  How much had he heard? Did he suspect that Jake was half human? Had Dr. Mangot told Captain Bulmer about Jake’s parentage? She’d sworn to tell no one, but she was very close to Captain Bulmer. It was a secret that had to stay a secret, especially when they returned to Earth.

  Jake shrugged. “Nothing. How’s Dr. Mangot?”

  “I gave her the morning dose, and she went back to sleep. I won’t leave her long, but I just needed some fresh air,” said Captain Bulmer.

  Mitzi’s line jerked again. With a quick flip, another orange fish flopped on the dock, this one bigger. “That’s enough for me,” she said brightly. “I’ll take these home and cook breakfast now.”

  She handed her pole to Captain Bulmer, then walked away briskly toward the village.

  Captain Bulmer watched her go. “Did you make her mad?”

  “She’s always mad,” Jake said.

  “What did that mean? ‘We know who you are.’” Captain Bulmer was watching him curiously.

  From the bucket that Mitzi had left, Jake pulled out a skinny, black worm and handed it to him. While he threaded the worm onto the hook, Jake thought about what to say. He had to trust that Dr. Mangot was keeping her word. And that the fever didn’t loosen her tongue.

  “I’m a Quad-de,” he finally said. “That doesn’t mean much on Earth or in Aberforth Hills. But here—” He waved a hand. “—it’s sort of like we’re royalty.” He gave Captain Bulmer a rueful grin. “The Quad-des have been in Tizzalurian politics for centuries. I could have my pick of any of the native girls.”

  Jake casually looked up to see the effect of his words.

  Captain Bulmer squinted and looked Jake up and down. When he spoke, his Scottish accent was heavier than usual. “There’s more to it than the Quad-de name. I can’t quite figure it out. Yet.”

  Jake’s stomach churned at Captain Bulmer’s suspicions.

  Captain Bulmer turned to drop his line off the dock. Instantly, he got a hit and pulled up a big orange fish.

  Jake said, “Looks like you know what you’re doing.”

  Captain Bulmer said, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  It was a challenge to explain more about Tizzalurian politics, Jake’s position on Earth, and maybe even the truth about his parents. But he wasn’t talking to this Phoke.

  “Apparently, not. I’ve been here fishing for half an hour and caught nothing.”

  By now, Captain Bulmer’s hook was baited again. Instantly, he got another hit. The fish was smaller, but large enough to keep.

  Jake pulled up his hook to find that the worm was gone. Something had stolen his bait.

  He leaned on the dock and let Captain Bulmer fish instead. He wondered what Captain Bulmer was thinking. Did he suspect the truth, that Jake was a test-tube baby? Or did he think Swann was his real father? Or was he suspicious about something else? Angrily, he shook the thoughts. None of it mattered if they couldn’t get off-planet.

  Captain Bulmer broke into his thoughts. “That’s five. Enough for breakfast?”

  Jake nodded. “Thanks. Apparently, I’m not much of a fisherman. Let’s see if I’m a cook.”

  They climbed the hill to the resort. Jake went to the kitchen to cook while Captain Bulmer went back to check on Dr. Mangot.

  While Utz was gone, Jake had plenty of time to think. He’d grown up and changed so much since the day he first landed on Earth and visited Gulf Shores. He’d been defiant and gone swimming with the great white shark. Bainbridge High School had been an education, and he didn’t mean what schoolteachers meant when he said that. He’d just l
earned about life and about himself.

  Em had given him a different type of education, especially when he followed her to Aberforth Hills. And now, he was here in the south seas of Rison searching for a cure for her.

  Through it all, he was the one who’d changed: from insecure to more confident, from naïve to wiser, and from socially inept to some level of social grace. He’d learned about his Earth family and his Rison family, and learned to appreciate and love them both. He couldn’t imagine life without both.

  But it was all for nothing if they couldn’t find the male starfish and find the cure for Em.

  They spent the next two evenings in fruitless dives. No matter how deep they dove, they never saw an umjaadi male. The island’s daily temperatures soared, and the breeze was stagnant. When it did freshen some in the evenings, it always carried the sulfurous smell of volcanoes and ash. The planet shook—mostly small tremors—morning, noon and night. Time was short, and Jake chaffed that Utz was still gone.

  Smuggler Negotiations

  Utz stood before a large sailing ship that flew the feared yellow flag of pirates. He smiled ironically to himself. It used to be a plain yellow flag, but after learning about Earth’s pirates, Fallstar had taken to yellow flags with a skull-and-crossbones added. It was ironic how much they’d copied Earth.

  Derry had wanted to come along, but since she was Tizzalurian, she didn’t understand the Bo-See ways. Utz had to do this visit by himself.

  At the ship, he called, “Permission to come aboard.”

  A tall Boadan man turned. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, but otherwise wore the yellow uniform that loosely proclaimed him a pirate. “Who’s asking permission?”

  “Utz Seehafer, Prince of the Bo-See, and cousin to the captain.” He had many other ceremonial titles, but thought that was enough.

  “Hmpf,” the man said. Casually, he walked to the door of the captain’s cabin and knocked. “Utz Seehafer to see you, sir.”

  The door flung open, banging against the cabin’s front wall. “Utz!” A man dressed in scarlet—Ancel, himself—strode down the gangplank to Utz and buried him in a hug.