BY EVA BARBER
This is a novel excerpt. Copyright is held by the author.
SHE OPENED her eyes to blueness all around her. She blinked, but the blue didn’t disappear. When her eyes opened wide enough, she understood that the blue-green abyss was water, separated from her by the wall of the crystal capsule. She lay curled at its bottom while the water battered the translucent barrier, trying to claim what was inside. She sat and studied the walls, breathing hard, and soon her chest hurt from her heart pounding against it. Her head hit the capsule when she jerked, seeing a fish piercing her with its cold, watery eyes. She pressed her hands against the walls of the capsule, searching for an opening. But the capsule walls were perfect — there was no opening, no lock, no handle. How long would the air last? Where was she? She stopped breathing, imagining she soon was to draw her last breath in this crystal prison.
Calm down. There is still air in here.
She drew a few even breaths and examined the capsule from top to bottom. That was when she noticed a faint triangle on the bottom. Before she pressed it, she looked out, searching for a light and the end of the abyss, and saw nothing but a deep blue void.
Maybe it’s night outside?
She weighed her options: stay and slowly suffocate, or try to swim to the surface, however far it was. She couldn’t remember, but her instincts told her she could swim, so she drew a deep breath and pressed the triangle.
The walls slid open, and water poured in and rammed her against the back wall of the capsule with such force that she lost almost all the air she’d just inhaled. She dove downward to avoid the force of the water, waited for the whirl to subside, and dove out of the capsule. With powerful strokes, she pulled herself up, searching for a light that would lead her to the surface and to air and salvation. Her chest hurt as she suppressed the urge to breathe and kept swimming up and up with no light in sight. The pain grew. Her eyes bulged, and blood pounded against her skull. This was it. Death was coming, and she just realized she couldn’t remember her name and how she had ended up in this mess. She pushed up with one last powerful stroke. Then she said goodbye to life and, deciding to end the pain, inhaled.
She had assumed the water would taste salty and burn her lungs, not expecting to inhale air instead. Her lungs still hurt, but the relief of pulling air into her lungs put her in a state of euphoria. She had reached the surface and was still alive. She lay on her back, drawing short, even breaths, and opened her eyes.
Complete darkness and nothingness surrounded her except for a few faint stars blinking lethargically against the black sky. There were no lights anywhere, which meant no nearby land and no boats to save her. If only she could remember how she had ended up here, she might guess where there was land. But her mind was blank. The euphoria slowly ebbed as she realized she might still die, swallowed by this black, unforgiving water.
Am I being punished for something I’ve done?
She floated, staring at the ominous sky. The harder she tried to remember who she was, the tougher it was to stay afloat, as if the burden was making her heavier. So she just floated mindlessly, staring at the lazy stars, listening to the waves splattering around her, and eventually, she relaxed, calmed by the idle blinking and the soft splatter. As she drifted into the blackness, a tune popped into her head. She didn’t remember the name of the song or its words, but it sounded familiar and soothing. She started humming the melody as she drifted, waiting for morning to arrive. As she hummed, a distant, foggy memory surfaced of dancing to this melody with someone dear to her in a giant room filled with bright lights and sparkling gems.
She drifted for a long time before the sun peeked shyly from beyond the horizon. Her body grew numb from the chill of the water as it sucked the warmth out of her. The sun, neither bright nor warm, made its way up and hid behind the grey clouds, wafting sluggishly. And when they covered the sun, her skin tightened from the chill, and her body seemed heavier. She searched the horizon. Still, no land, no boats. She was in the middle of the ocean.
I’m going to die here, after all.
She shut her eyes and drifted on her back. Tears squeezed out of her eyes and were absorbed by the salty ocean.
When they find my body, whose name will they put on my tombstone? Maybe no one will find me at all.
As she floated, feeling her body growing numb and heavy, she felt a thump on her head. She turned too quickly and swallowed a big gulp of salty water. And then she swallowed more when she saw a piece of wood that looked like it had come off a boat floating by her side.
“Where did you come from?”
What was left of the plank’s blue paint had lost its intensity, bleached by the sun. She looked around, hopeful, but saw nothing else. She grabbed and inspected it — the plank was big enough to use as a float, so she slid onto it and worked her feet, and straining her eyes, pushed in the direction the straggler had come from. The sun now shone directly on her, and she could feel its tentacles reach deep into her skull and morph into a pounding ache. She tried to lick her cracked lips, but her mouth was dry.
It was getting dark when she saw it. At first, she thought it was just the reflection of the setting sun on the water, but when she was closer, her heart leaped into her throat. An orange ring buoy bounced on the waves. The setting sun made the orange pop, so it looked like it was on fire. She reached for it, expecting it to disappear. When her hand grasped the firm ring, she gasped and swallowed more water. She tried to slip through the ring, but her arm got tangled in a rope. Tracing the rope, she found an orange object entwined with the ring’s rope and drifting along. When she reached for it, she thought she imagined it. The ring was attached to an inflatable lifeboat. With fingers trembling with excitement and slipping on the seaweed, she fumbled with it, swallowing more water, but finally found a yellow button amid the green slime and pressed it.
A round, orange boat materialized in front of her like a magic trick, bumping into her. She went under momentarily, crying out as she swallowed more water, seeing the boat float away. Her strength drifted away with it. A sudden wave came and covered her. She was drowning just when hope arrived. Then, the image of a dark-haired woman shouting at her not to give up released a powerful burst of energy and determination from somewhere deep down, powering her arms and legs as she swam to the lifeboat. Holding onto the yellow ropes on the boat’s side, she climbed into it and wept.
Thank you. She didn’t quite know who she was thanking — maybe the gods of the ocean. Searching the boat with her hands, as the darkness had already swallowed everything around her, she found several plastic pouches containing water. She emptied one in a few gulps, discovering the water tasted slightly sweet and tangy. She fell asleep shortly after and woke up when the sun was a third of the way up from the horizon. The buoy was still attached to the boat, bouncing behind it. Noticing the letters on its side, she brought it closer. The large letters spelled “Zoe.” The name echoed in her mind as something she should remember, but it refused to surface.
For three days and four nights, she drifted. On the fourth morning, she woke up disoriented, realizing something was different. She wasn’t swaying anymore. The boat had run aground on white sand.
On rubbery legs, she crawled out of the boat and walked, looking around. The white sandy beach stretched as far as the eye could see. Peppered with occasional rocks and tons of golden-brown shells sparkling in the sun, the sand reached far inland and ended in grass-covered dunes. There were no houses, no boat ramps, no trails leading inland, no other signs of civilization.
Her eyes landed on a row of trees, and that was where she headed. She shivered and inspected her clothes. Her fingers went through holes surrounded by rusty stains in the frayed tank top. Shoeless and wearing only the top and underwear, she slowly made her way up the dunes and toward the gnarly pines. The ground covered with pinecones and sharp rocks slowed her even more. She walked through the sparse forest for hours until it ended abruptly at a road.
The surface of the road was full of multicoloured shiny speckles that glowed as the road undulated through hills in both directions. The pines grew on one side, and unfamiliar, leafy green trees on the other.
“It probably doesn’t matter which way I go.”
She turned right and hobbled ahead on her sore feet, preparing for a long walk as the road seemed abandoned. She jerked when she heard music and chimes. The tune grew louder. A giant truck covered with stickers and decked out in multicoloured flashing lights strung all over its huge metal hulk was coming toward her. Colourful flags flanked both sides of the front and the back of the noisy monster. It didn’t even occur to her to flag the driver because she believed the strange apparition was only in her imagination. With her mouth wide open and her arms in midair, she stared at the beast coming her way. Only when the rush of air swept over her as the truck passed her did she wave her arms and run after it, shouting.
“Wait, wait. Please stop!”
The tires screeched, and as the stench of burning rubber and brakes reached her, the truck stopped three hundred feet ahead. Next, the cab door opened, and a man jumped down and ran toward her. Short and round, the man panted as he jogged toward her. When he finally reached her, he rested his small, golden-brown arms covered with thick gold hair on his legs as he inhaled deeply whilst he appraised her with his curious dark brown eyes. She stood gazing at the stout man, as peculiar and flamboyant as the beast he drove. Once he regained his breath, his round, brown face lit up in a brilliant smile. His full lips stretched across his face, almost touching his ears, which were full of glistening, dangling earrings of different shapes and lengths. As he smiled, the tiny gems embedded in his teeth shone. Straightening up, he wiped tiny droplets of sweat off his brow with the red scarf he snatched off his head. Dozens of gleaming black braids with multicoloured strings threaded into them spilled onto his shoulders.
“Hulla!” he bellowed and smiled again. “Oco dobish nutej?”
The smooth baritone of his voice broke her spell. She shrugged. “I don’t understand you. Where am I?” she asked, startled at how squeaky and unsure her voice sounded.
“Ah, you’re not Romana,” he said and wiped his forehead again, studying her. “Are you Andalian?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You speak it well, so you probably are,” he said, looking over her clothes.
Her cheeks burned while he appraised her skimpy outfit.
He pinched the sleeves of his yellow jacket and stroked his protruding belly in round strokes. “Are you hungry? You look cold.”
She nodded, probing his brown eyes. The man’s kindness triggered a tsunami of sudden self-pity. Deep sobs surged through her chest as she stared at him, trying to answer.
“Oh, no, no, no. Ne puch. Don’t cry,” he said, almost crying himself. He made an inviting gesture with his hand, pointing at his dazzling machine. “Come, come,” he added, smiling. “I have food and water, and I’ll take you wherever you’re going. Your feet are bleeding. Please. Let me help you,” he kept saying softly, waving his fleshy hands in gentle, inviting gestures.
Her outburst of emotion lasted only a few seconds. Wiping her tears with her hands, she nodded and then followed the little man to his truck. It didn’t even occur to her to distrust him. His goofy yet comforting mannerisms, smile, and eyes soothed her lonely soul. More than food and water, she’d just realized, she longed for another human being. And this eccentric man seemed perfect. A flamboyant angel.
He jumped the steep steel steps to the cab as if they were a mere two or three inches. When he was inside the cab, he extended his hand to help her and then gracefully jumped into the driver’s seat, his round belly jiggling as he settled in his bright red leather chair. Then he grabbed a lever by the steering wheel and raised it, starting the engine, which answered with a deep growl, and a bell sounded. While he revved the motor, he glanced over and pointed to a compartment in front of her. Its door was covered with stickers of various animals she could not name. She slid the compartment door open, and when she saw what was inside, her mouth watered. The large cabinet overflowed with snacks and bottles full of colourful liquids. She eyed a green bottle shaped like a cute animal with large ears. He glanced at her and grinned. “This one is really good. Kiwi. Try some.”
She didn’t need an invitation. With hands curved like talons, she snatched a bag and the green bottle and drained it with just a few gulps, belching loudly afterward. He giggled and patted his belly.
After she satisfied her hunger, devouring the contents of several packages of dried fruit and nuts, she scrutinized the cabin. With red leather seats and blue leather walls, the cab was both cozy and vibrant, with its glitzy golden tassels hanging from all corners, from the visors, the mirrors, and above the windows. All that glinted softly as colourful lights hung inside and outside blinked. On the dash, a line of varying sizes of yellow ducks with red beaks bounced their heads in agreement as the tires bounced along on the bumpy road.
Then he thumped his chest, repeating his name. “I’m Narius,” he said while glancing expectantly.
Oh, he wants to hear my name.
She hesitated before finally saying. “I don’t remember anything before I woke up in the middle of an ocean and then . . .” She stopped, seeing his friendly but befuddled glances. “I’m not making any sense to you?” she said and sighed. “Zoe. I’m Zoe. For now, at least. Until I remember.”
What if I don’t? She shuddered.
Noticing her shiver, Narius reached up to a cubby above his head and took out a red velvet blanket. A sigh escaped her lips as the blanket reached her skin. Soft as the fur of a puppy, the blanket enveloped her in gentleness and warmth. She slumped into the cozy red chair and closed her eyes to rest. As soon as her eyes closed, a myriad of questions crowded her mind. Who was she, and how did she end up in the ocean? Where was she? Narius’s language when he first spoke was fast and overflowing with consonants, sounding like wind blowing through leaves in the forest, and was unfamiliar to her.
The screeching, puffing, and squealing sounds woke her up. The truck came to a stop. She rubbed her crusty eyes. Narius smiled at her, and the gems caught and reflected the bright early morning sunrays filtering through the windows. She must have slept for a long time. Narius stopped in front of a house dazzling with colour and eccentricity. The sun made the bright yellow frames even brighter, and painted red poppies adorning the oval windows shimmered, appearing as though their delicate petals swayed in the wind. Whimsical butterflies were balanced on the flowering branches against a blue background.
An overweight golden dog jingling with tiny golden trinkets on his collar came running out of the door and gave a few loud barks and then showed all his ferocious white fangs in a wide smile, wagging his tail vigorously.
“Tamtam,” Narius said, pointing at the dog and smiling ear to ear, just like his golden friend. He jumped out of the truck, and the dog jumped on his chest and covered his face with kisses with its big, sloppy tongue. After the dog was done greeting Narius, it looked at the truck and sniffed. She glanced at Narius uncertainly through the window. He grinned and motioned for her to join him. After the initial sniffing, the dog licked her hand and smiled at her. Seeing the dog triggered a memory of a big black nose and eyes. Her dog. She used to have a dog that had licked her on her face. But she couldn’t remember his name.
“Come, come,” Narius invited her inside. As colourful as the outside, the inside welcomed her with walls in yellow and orange hues, a jungle of plants, paintings, and sculptures. Her jaw dropped upon seeing the sculptures — half-human, half-creatures, the life-size wood-and-stone creations occupied all the corners of this large, bright area. The sharp morning light created deep shadows, emphasizing their strangeness, elongating and bending the already long arms and legs as if they were engaged in a dance or a ritual. The sculptures were as beautiful and mesmerizing as they were scary and disturbing.
“Hulla yo,” a pleasant woman’s voice interrupted her reverie.
A small woman, whose brown hair erupted in a volcano of braids full of tiny shimmering stones, smiled at her. She was drying her hands on a yellow kitchen towel while appraising her guest. Her knee-high dress was covered in layered bands of beads that swayed as she moved. Her feet drowned in oversized yellow shoes with red polka dots.
As soon as he got through the door, Narius flooded the smiling woman with words like a fast-flowing stream. Zoe stood there listening to him, mesmerized, transported for a moment into a forest where leaves could talk.
Then the woman spoke to her in perfect Andalian, rounding her words elegantly. “Narius tells me he found you on a road by the seaside. You were lucky because that road is not used much anymore. He seldom goes there, except that he had to deliver an order in that area. But it turned out that the address was fake, and he made that trip for nothing. Well, not for nothing. To find you,” she said and waved her towel toward a hallway. “Come on. Our home is your home for as long as you want. We have several spare bedrooms for friends who visit us. We planned it that way, didn’t we, Narius?” She turned to him and smiled.
“Are you…Andalian?”
“No, I’m Romana, but I learned Andalian working for the art council in our Romana community. What’s your name?”
Zoe exhaled. “I don’t remember. For now, call me Zoe.”
“What happened to you?”
“I don’t know. I woke up in a strange container submerged in the ocean and don’t remember anything. After I freed myself from that glass thing, I found a buoy attached to a lifeboat as I was trying to stay afloat. Zoe was the name of that boat. It sort of sounded familiar.”
“I see. Where are my manners? I’m Nora. Come on, I’ll take you to your bedroom. Once you get some food in your belly and get a good night’s sleep, you might start remembering,” Nora said and gently took Zoe’s arm, leading her to a room at the far end of the house. Tamtam followed, wagging his tail and touching Zoe’s hand with his wet nose. She stroked his head, and he smiled.
“He likes you. You must be a dog person.”
“I think so.”
Cozy, bright, and colourful, the room welcomed her with its warmth and joyfulness. There were sculptures in the room, but smaller and of regular, human proportions. Nora handed her a handful of towels and then scratched her chin, evaluating Zoe’s skimpy wardrobe.
“Hmm, you’re much taller than I am, but I’ll try to find something out of the clothes my friends left behind. Make yourself comfy here, and I’ll be right back. Come, Tamtam. Let’s get her settled before you beg her for attention, you big baby.”
After they left, Zoe sat on the bed and exhaled deeply. The partially open door in the room’s corner caught her attention. She opened the door and stood in the doorway admiring the enormous see-through bathtub surrounded by palms in painted porcelain pots. When she looked into a mirror with an intricate gold frame, the towels she was holding fell to the floor.
The wavy blond hair, tousled by the sea and the sleep, fell to her shoulders in messy waves. The big oval-shaped blue eyes sparkled with gold and black dots as she stared at the face of the stranger. Her full lips parted as she traced her face in the mirror, searching for clues of her identity. Who are you? Are you Zoe? The head in the mirror shook. No, I’m not Zoe, she sighed.
“How are you?” Nora asked when Zoe, freshly showered, poked her head into the kitchen.
Zoe wore wide pants in a floral design and a white crochet blouse. Her wet hair dripped tiny drops onto the tiled kitchen floor as she walked toward Nora.
“Good. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
“Oh, you are so welcome, hon. Sit down, or you can help me prepare lunch. You can cut the vegetables,” Nora said, and pushed a cutting board and a knife her way. She pointed to a pile of round green vegetables. “Narius is unloading his sculptures from the truck. You know, the order that never got delivered. It shouldn’t take him long.”
“Is he the sculptor?”
“Yes, mostly, but I help. With inspiration,” she said with a giggle.
“It’s powerful and passionate. Beautiful, deep. I can sense their despair, hope, fear.”
“Yeah. Narius has always had a great imagination. He used to paint landscapes, people, or flowers — until one night, about eight years ago, he had a dream. A nightmare, really, if you ask me. He dreamed of the dark monsters that fought with each other, and he started sculpting them; otherwise, they wouldn’t leave him alone. I didn’t even know he sculpted so well,” Nora said, and shook her head. “He is very talented, that Narius of mine. Very special man,” she finished softly.
Narius bellowed something when he entered the kitchen. He kissed Nora on the neck. She flung the kitchen towel at him. “Behave. We have a guest. We’ll have torndilles and tampaniones today. Sit down. It’s almost ready,” she said, taking the cut vegetables from Zoe and tossing them into a giant bowl. “Did you wash your hands?” she asked, eyeing him and his hands.
He nodded vigorously.
When Zoe tasted the food, tears rushed to her eyes, and she stopped breathing for a moment. It was so full of flavour and surprising textures, aromas, and tastes. Zoe wolfed down her food, barely breathing. “Oh, this is soooo good,” she said with her mouth full.
“Thank you,” Nora said, beaming. “I enjoy making people feel good, and there’s no better way than food.”
***
Eva Barber is the author of the Dark World series, a speculative fiction adventure that she began writing while working as a biologist and environmentalist. Eva’s artistic background contributes to her cinematic writing style, while her background in science grounds her fantastical stories in reality. She writes stories about science that blend myth, family drama, and what it means to belong and sacrifice. She draws inspiration in part from the places she’s visited and lived in, but she calls the evergreen Pacific Northwest her home now. When she’s not writing or painting or playing with dirt, she enjoys camping and hiking with her husband and their two spoiled mutts.