Cracks in the Shell

Chapter 21

Mist drifted through the village like a parade of ghosts, streaming endlessly over the raised platforms and bridges. Below him, the tide had risen; timbers creaked and groaned with each ocean swell.   

“I’m glad we didn’t camp in the sand,” Carlos whispered to himself. He took a deep breath and focused on his task. A spy had infiltrated their group, someone who was feeding the baka information, someone with access to restricted archives. If he could match their sandal to the footprint he’d seen there, he’d have proof. 

Before long he came across a platform with three sleeping men. Although they appeared to be deep in slumber, they all kept their weapons within arm’s reach. Carlos knew he’d have to tread cautiously here. He gingerly lifted the nearest sandal up by its leather straps. The sole was smooth – not a match. This could take a while, he realized. He quickly checked the other sandals, but none showed the radiating sun pattern, so he turned to leave. As he took the next step, however, the board beneath his foot creaked in protest. 

He froze. 

One of the men shifted in his sleep but did not wake. Carlos resumed breathing, moved off the platform, and hurried across the next bridge. 

Soon he had checked over a dozen sandal pairs with no luck. The mist was thickening by the hour, and he began to fear he’d loose his bearings. The last thing he wanted was to get lost in this endless tree house. All he heard now was the ocean lapping at the poles beneath him and an occasional snore. A thin chill permeated the air. Salt spray stung his nostrils. The bridge beneath his feet trembled slightly, and Carlos stopped. 

He wasn’t sure if it was fatigue, but he swore he saw a figure’s shadow ahead. A patch of fog momentarily obscured his vision, and then he saw the form again. Whoever it was must have seen him too. A dark shape fell from the bridge, plunging into the rolling waves with a splash. Carlos ran to the side and looked over. All he saw was the ebb and flow of the ocean and a few ripples. 

Why would someone jump into that? Just to escape me? It didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t identified any sandals yet. But he had bent down and inspected that print in the sand, and now he was looking for matching soles. Someone could have seen him doing all this and put the pieces together. In fact, he felt like he was being watched this very second. Carlos spun around. 

“You shouldn’t be eating so late.” Ayzili stood right behind him, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What are you looking at down there?”

“I thought I saw someone jump,” he said and then decided she deserved to know the whole story. He told her about the matching footprint, his theory about the spy, and the figure he’d just seen through the mist. Ayzili absorbed it all with a look of grave concern.

“I trust you,” she said, “but many people have seen things in the Village of Ghede, things that don’t exist.” 

“I still think we should gather everyone and see who’s missing.” 

She gave him a long look as if weighing whether or not he was serious. Then she shrugged and cupped a hand to her mouth. The yell that she gave pierced his eardrums, but it had the desired effect. Soon the entire party had gathered back at the central platform where they’d first ascended. Most of the men had their weapons draw and were ready to fight. 

“What’s wrong?” they asked Ayzili.

“Who’s missing?” She performed a quick headcount. “It’s Moro. Anyone seen him?”

“He was sleeping alone in one of the outer huts.” An older man pointed into the mist. 

“He’s no spy,” Ayzili said, turning to Carlos. “He wouldn’t help the baka after they killed his daughter.”