The wind shook the ship so violently, Gavean fell to the floor for the hundredth time. As always, it smelled like shit, and with the smell of the sea wafting down the halls, it only made the scent so much sharper; he couldn’t even tell which bothered him the most.

  They’d been at sea for eleven months now. It had gotten to the point that the mere thought of land made him unsteady, but he had to think about land. That was the only thing that kept him going. The belief that they’d get off. The belief that everything would work out.

  He got up, shaking the dirty water off his hands and sleeves. He hadn’t fought in the holy war with his family. That was a deep regret, whether he was a believer or not. Now they were all dead, and here he was. The sole survivor.

  It would be different this time. No matter what, he would at least try to do his part.

  Someone shouted at him. He turned around and found the masked man staring at him. That was odd. They usually lashed out if someone stopped a task for any reason. He couldn’t see the man’s face behind that strange marbled mask.

  “Sorry,” Gavean said.

  He thought of informing the man that the water was still leaking in, but the man had his own eyes. He could see the water dripping in from the pipes overhead and still chose to do nothing. So, he simply turned around, trying not to gag at the pungency of the smell.

  Five of the others were still walking through the garbage room, closing all the bags before he or one of the older refugees carried them out into the hall. The bags would wait there until they finished their task and took the bags to one of the empty cabins they’d use until they reached the next port.

  He bent low, studying the others. Using a scraper, he pried off soaked food debris from the wooden boards. One of them looked in his direction, practically on the verge of tears. Gavean shook his head subtly, an encouraging look in his eyes.

  The boy sniffed and nodded once, picking up the soaked filth that had fallen free and putting it back in the plastic bag. At least, he still had that effect on them. The older refugees were too hollowed out for even that. One look at them, and it was enough to throw yourself into the sea, as many had already done over the course of the voyage.

  Forget them!

  This wasn’t the holy war or even close, but he was trying. He was the only one who could keep their spirits up. He singlehandedly had kept many of them from plunging into the deep. An exhausting effort, but it would all be worth it when he got them to safety. Wherever that was.

  He finally pried a stubborn mark from the floorboards. One of the older kids moved a bag and gagged so loud they all turned to look at him. The smell did get worse then, the bag no longer covering the collection of gray water that had been standing there for days now. They always made them wait for days before they were brought in to clean it.

  The boy looked away, his pale face turning a sickly green as he fought against the nausea. For a moment, he was winning, before a wave crashed into the side of the ship, and he went flying into the sludgy mass of water. No one blamed him when he vomited right then and there.

  Gavean glanced behind him, looking at the masked men who stood in the doorway. They didn’t move, only watched impassively. The boy quickly wiped his mouth, getting back to his feet, his T-shirt covered in his vomit. He handed the bag to Gavean, asking that they swap.

  Gavean hid the pride he felt at that moment. Even with how embarrassing it must’ve felt for him to stand there like that. The boat rocked again, though not nearly as violently as it had the last two times, as Gavean stood and retrieved the bag.

  He nodded and dragged the heavy bag outside. As they’d planned, there were more than five bags already sitting out here. That would help explain why he was gone so long and why he had to go back and forth. He purposefully stumbled, pretending the bag was far too heavy for him to take another one.

  Just as they’d noticed before, there were fewer men on watch today. Recently, more and more of them seemed to be staying out of their sight. He just hoped they weren’t in the kitchens or the medicine room.

  Be a soldier, he reminded himself. Try.

  Leaning to his right, he walked on as if he were a second away from falling over. He made sure every step was long and looked like he had to work for it. When he turned the corner, he found the hallway empty.

  When they’d first boarded the ship, the halls had been filled with masked men either carrying swords, or handguns, or the powerful rifles the soldiers had used in the wars, both the holy war and Erosa’s new war.

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  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Six.

  Seven.

  He reached the seventh door and found no one waiting. He cursed. Where was Adelsa? Had she run into trouble? There were no masked men standing in the hallway, but that didn’t mean he could wait here. The ones back at the garbage room would quickly get suspicious.

  He left the bag on the floor and hurried back to get another one. Pretending to stretch once or twice and making sure he gave the others working away inside that stinking room a gentle nod to show everything was going according to plan, he picked up the next bag and ambled away.

  It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Things were going according to plan, if slower than they’d thought. He just had to continue.

  Thankfully, this time around, Adelsa was there, looking around nervously.

  “What happened?” he whispered.

  She was older than him, older by far, but she was also the only one of her age group willing to help. She was fighting for her two kids and for her husband, who’d all contracted some illness a few days back.

  “The key wasn’t easy to find,” she explained, sliding it into the keyhole as she spoke. “One of them walked in while I was there. Told me I could have the medicine. Said it could help, but that it wouldn’t matter. We had no hope.”

  “There is hope,” he said. “At the next port, we’re all leaving, and they won’t be able to stop us.”

  She looked at him, studying him for a moment. “A child’s optimism. My husband has that same optimism. Don’t lose that. Ever.”

  Gavean nodded as she pushed the door open. He followed behind, thinking to himself how odd it was that the soldier hadn’t cared. And why were so many of them staying in their rooms? Were they sick with the same fever many of the refugees had?

  “Do you have the bag?” she asked him.

  He nodded, pulling out the spare plastic bag he’d taken when they’d first entered the garbage room.

  “I’ll have to put it in one of those bags outside in case one of them stops me,” she said.

  The room was filled with all sorts of medicine. He didn’t ask her how she knew which ones would help and which wouldn’t. Gavean stuck his head out into the hallway, keeping an eye out for a marbled mask.

  Just as he was pulling his head back in, someone rounded the corner into this hallway. His heart skipped a beat before he realized it was one of the others from the garbage room. He didn’t remember her name.

  “What are you doing?” he asked furiously before panic set in. “What happened?”

  “They left,” the girl said in shock, her eyes wider than he’d ever seen it. “They actually left.”

  “What do you mean they left?” he asked.

  “We were busy scraping and filling up the bags when one of them came down the stairs and called the others. I don’t know what they said, but they left. They just left.”

  Something didn’t feel right. Gavean turned back to Adelsa, giving her a questioning look. She nodded, saying, “I’ll be fine. You guys be careful.”

  He hesitated a moment. She had to get the medicine; it wouldn’t be right to ask her to stop or to even come with them, not now when the medicine was finally within reach. He’d have to go himself.

  “Let’s go up,” he said to the girl.

  When they stepped out into the hallway and rounded the corner, they found even more refugees walking in the halls. So, it’s true. They’re really gone? They’d never been allowed to walk around so freely.

  A lot of them barraged him with questions, all of them wanting to know what was happening.

  “We’re going to the deck to see what’s happening,” he told them, raising his voice so he was louder than all of them. “Some of us have to go check the cabins—see what they left behind.”

  They shared fearful glances, but they set off, going down different hallways to do as he’d asked.

  He slowly climbed the nearby stairs. From the minute they’d been herded onto the ship, they’d been kept below deck, shot and abused any time they tried to go above. That treatment was so deeply ingrained in them that even he hesitated. But they had to go above.

  He finally pushed open the latch and stepped out into the open air. The clouds swirled above, lightning darting for the water like spears being thrown down from some god in the sky. The purple waters thrashed, waves swirling in wide circles, rising and collapsing into each other.

  The strong pools.

  And there they were.

  Small boats filled with the masked men, sailing away from the pools he’d only read about before. The ship was headed straight for those crashing waves, and they were sailing to safety. Why?

  “Gav,” someone said behind him, their voice filled with nothing but fear at the sight of the sea. “All over the ship, they’re saying the cabins are empty. Beds are stripped. But the kitchen still has food.”

  He didn’t know where it came from, but something in him, the part that had clung to the idea of survival since his father had first gone off to the holy war, guided his thoughts until he said something that surprised even him.

  “We need to seal the food away. As fast as we can.” The others were still looking at the strong pool opening and widening just up ahead.

  “Come on!” he shouted. “We have to save the food.”

  I hope it works.