I have to get this bleeding stopped! The wound, pulsing with each heartbeat, is quickly draining the life from Mom. The animal who made a meal of her leg retreated back into the ocean, most likely to wait for its next victim. It would not be me.
Quickly, I tear a strip from the bottom of my dress and wrap it around mom’s pulpy stump. I use a small piece of driftwood to twist the fabric of the makeshift tourniquet.
“Argh!” my mother screams as I tighten the fabric. The blood slows to an ooze. She's lost so much already. Her white linen dress is drenched by the coagulating pool she's laying in. We need to move quickly before the smell of blood attracts another predator.
“Mom, you have to hold this!” I place her hand on the wood.
"Okay, hurry," she hisses behind clenched teeth.
I grab our fishing net and lay it out like a blanket next to Mom. I pull her onto the net and drag her through the brush to the path leading to camp.
I’m greeted by Nona. Her face instantly falls from joy to terror once seeing the contents of my net. She runs to the hospital tent to alert Dr. Brown. Swiftly, the other women in camp grab the net and help to carry Mom's unconscious body the rest of the way.
Dr. Brown takes my place carrying the net; she and the rest of the women disappear behind the tent flap. I crumble to the ground taking up a post that I will not abandon until I know if Mom will be okay.
Our camp is small, but no smaller than the other camps on this flooded continent. My family fled from Philadelphia during the great flood of 2055. We were told we would be safe in Wilkes-Barre, but in July of that year, the last of the ice caps melted, and we found ourselves racing for survival. The flood was not as fast as one of those old disaster movies where the protagonist has to race against the clock. No, it was slower, the destruction took weeks to complete.
One morning, we woke up and the river was a mile from our house, the next week, a half mile, the following week, it was lapping at our doorstep. We had plenty of warning. The race was finding a way to the Poconos. The race was making sure we had a place to make camp because so many people had already filled up the refugee camps.
I never thought of myself as a refugee until I reached our camp. Mom told me that we would be with other Philadelphians. I surveyed the camp and was shocked by the mass of people. It seemed so strange, this tiny tent village, plopped in the middle of an old grazing field, on top of the mountain. Instead of cattle, we were the livestock contained, fenced in by tents. There were a total of 100 tents in our community.
I was terrified for life in this camp, but I was relieved to see my friend, Lana Allen, the first and only familiar face in the camp. Lana was alone. Her father had died trying to salvage the last of the belongings before the flood engulfed the city. Her mother was now sick in the hospital tent. Hopefully, I think now, Mom can be next to Mrs. Allen if she survives.
I glance at the tent, but the only movement is a gentle flop-flop as the wind plays with the tent’s flap. I wish Lana was with me. She would have something truly wonderful to say right now. She always knew how to cheer me up. The first night in camp when I couldn’t stop crying, she knew exactly what to say- You should be happy, now we can stay together forever, just like we always said we would!
It was the first time I had laughed since we left Philadelphia. Lana and I had been friends since preschool. We did everything together. We almost lost each other forever, the year before the flood. Lana's Dad got a new job in Hawaii. He left that January, and Lana and her mom were going to move there at the end of the school year. Then, one day, everything changed.
"hello?" I answer the ringing phone.
"Sarah, we're not moving after all," Lana whispered.
"Lana, I can barely hear you. What happened? Did your Dad get fired?"
"It's gone. He's gone."
"What are you talking about, Lana? What's gone?"
"Hawaii. It flooded. My Dad's gone."
But now the attack. These predators, once gentle giants had waged war on humans. Their natural prey, penguins and seals, were nearly extinct. These stealthy mammals had learned our habits of harvesting seaweed. They wait until we wade into the water and attack us. Their black skin makes them invisible in the dark waters.
Now, around the camp, silence. There are no adults around. Lana is on foraging duty in the woods with a few others. The rest are helping Dr. Brown with Mom. I should know something by now!
As if by command, the tent flap opens. Nona appears. The front of her ivory sundress is dyed crimson with blood, there are matching red splotches across her face. Her posture reveals nothing. I’m paralyzed by her cold demeanor.
With labored steps, she reaches me, and struggles to lower herself to the ground. The muffled crackle of her knees seems to release her a little too quickly to the ground and the resulting plop sends billows of the dry earth into the air.
With her handkerchief, Nona wipes the sweat and speckles of blood from her forehead. “Nona, what happened?” I whisper.
“She’s going to make it, Sarah.”
The relief from this statement washes over me. All at once I sob and fall into Nona’s lap like a marionette cut from its strings. She’s going to live! Our family is saved. Now, we just need to survive the rebuilding.
(A quick glimpse at a future project....)
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