The Descent

Ali  saw  the  mood  and  decided  to  stay  clear  of  it.  The  group  was  pungent  with  fear and  grief  and  confusion.  She  went  looking  for  Ike  to  share  thoughts,  only  to  find  him propped  among  the  rocks  with  his  own  bottle.  Walker  had  turned  him  loose,  though without  his  guns.  She  was  mildly  disappointed  in  Ike.  Stripped  of  his  weapons,  he seemed  impotent,  more  dependent  on  his  ability  to  commit  mayhem  than  was  right.

'What are you drinking for?' she demanded. 'Tonight of all nights.'

'What's wrong with tonight?' he said.

'We're coming apart. Look around.'

In the distance, Walker's militia had set  up strobe  lights to defend  their  walls.  In  the foreground,  in  staccato  silhouette,  drunken  dancers  were  doing  dance  moves  and shedding  their  clothes.  But  there  was  no  music.  You  could  hear  arguing  and  despair and lovers  grinding each other into the hard sand. It  sounded like August in a ghetto.

'We were  too big to start  with,' Ike  commented. Ali stared  at him. 'You're not concerned?'

He  tipped  the  bottle,  wiped  his  mouth.  'Sometimes  you  just  have  to  go  with  it,'  he said.

'Don't give up on us, Ike.' He looked away.

Ali wandered to an isolated spot midway between  the two camps and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, she was awakened by  a hand clamped across her mouth.

'Sister,' a man whispered.

She felt a heavy  bundle thrust  into her hands.

'Hide it.'

He left before Ali could say  a word.

Ali laid the bundle beside her and unfolded it. She felt through  the  contents  with  her hands:  a  rifle  and  pistol,  three  knives,  a  sawed-off  shotgun  that  could  only  belong  to Ike,  and  boxes  of  ammunition.  Forbidden  fruit.  Her  visitor  could  only  have  been  a soldier,  and  she  felt  certain  it  was  one  of  the  burned  ones  Ike  had  brought  to  safety. But why  the guns?

Fearful that Walker was  putting  her  through  some  kind  of  test,  Ali  almost  returned the  bundle  of  weapons  to  the  fire  base.  She  went  to  ask  Ike's  opinion,  but  he  had passed out. Finally she buried the shadowy inheritance beneath a cliff wall.

Early in the morning, Ali woke to  a  phosphorescent  sea  fog  blanketing  the  beach.  In the  quiet,  she  felt,  rather  than  heard,  footsteps  padding  through  the  sand.  She  stood and made out figures stealing through the fog, specters  hauling  treasure.  As  one  came close,  she  saw  it  was  a  soldier,  who  gestured  for  her  to  be  quiet  and  sit  down.  She knew  him  slightly,  and  for  him  had  copied  a  short  verse  from  Saint  Teresa  of  Avila, her favorite  mystic. This morning he didn't meet  her eyes.

She  sat  down  and  stayed  mute  as  the  last  of  them  filed  past.  They  were  headed toward  the  water,  but  even  then  she  didn't  guess.  It  was  only  after  a  few  minutes, when no one else appeared, that she got up and  walked  to  the  shoreline  and  saw  their lights dwindling smoothly across the still black sea.

She  thought  Walker  must  have  sent  out  a  dawn  reconnaissance  of  some  kind.  But

there  were  no rafts  left on the sand; Ali walked back and forth,  looking  for  their  boats, sure  she  had  misplaced  their  location.  The  pontoon  tracks  were  clear,  though.  The rafts had all been taken.

'Wait,' she called after  the lights. 'Hello.'

It  was an absurd mistake. They  had forgotten her.

But if it was a mistake, why  had that  soldier  motioned  her  to  sit  down  again?  It  was part of a plan, she realized. They  had meant to leave  her.

The  shock emptied her. She'd been left. Marooned.

Ali's  sense  of  loss  was  immediate  and  overpowering,  similar  to  that  time,  long  ago, when  a  sheriff's  deputy  had  come  to  her  house  to  break  the  news  of  her  parents' accident.

The  sound  of  coughing  reached  through  the  fog,  and  the  full  truth  came  to  her.  She had   not   been   abandoned   alone.   Walker   had   forsaken   everyone   not   under   his immediate command.

Tripping in the sand, she rushed across the beach  and  found  the  scientists  scattered where  their  debauch  had  dropped  them,  still  asleep.  They  woke  reluctantly,  and refused to believe  her. Five  minutes later, as they  stood on  the  edge  of  the  sea,  where their rafts  had been lying, the awful fact seeped in.

'What's the meaning of this?' roared Gitner.

'They've  stranded us? Where's Shoat? He'd better  have  an explanation.' But Shoat was gone, too. And the feral girl.

'This can't be happening.'

Ali  watched   their   reactions   as  extensions   of   herself.   She   felt   numb.   Enraged. Paralyzed.  Like  her  friends  and  comrades,  she  wanted  to  shout  and  kick  at  the  sand and fall on her back. The  treachery  was beyond belief.

'Why have  they  done this?' someone cried.

'They  must have  left a note. An explanation.'