Amongst the Living

Exiled, forgotten, feared. Forced from his home, his family and his life, Camda is now one of the 'dead'. But, in Virdinia, the dead can return, bringing vengeance with them.

Amongst the Living

The stars stared down at them with cold, dead eyes as they sailed towards the shoreline, the waves shimmering in the moonlight. They were close now, and Camda felt his heart quicken expectantly as he imagined the settlement hidden in the rainforest before them. There were twenty of them in the boat, all silent, the only sound the distant crash of waves upon rock and shore.

'You must not kill another, not ever,' they whispered in his ears.

But it was all that Camda wanted, all he thought of as he pulled at the oar with his one good arm, the other chained to his back, his fingers brushing the base of his skull. The others were all like him with their chained arms, each trapped and without use. It was the mark of the dead.

Thick clouds had smothered the moon when they had left their rocky island, and they had been glad of its cover. Now, the clouds had been brushed aside, and the moon glared down at their approach. Let it stare, Camda thought angrily, let it watch their approach.

It had taken a long, relentless year to build the craft, a feat none had believed possible. Dead men from a dead island, they should never have been able to build anything. Old Jonan had told them they could though, and they had.

Old Jonan, Camda thought grimly. What man wanted to be king of the dead?

Their oars sliced through the water's surface and the waves shoved at the boat sullenly, it riding low in the water, the men heaving and straining as they hauled its bulk forwards. They would meet the shoreline in minutes, and jagged rocks slipped from the darkness to bar their way. The boat threatened to smash itself against them, it bucking and pulling as the water churned against the stony sentries.

The roar of the sea's fury as it smashed against the rocks ahead filled Camda's mind with memories. They had chained his left arm and thrown him to the sea. His family, his friends, fear had made them utterly merciless, and all for a mark on his arm. Death had touched him, they had declared.

He had been the only one that year, the only one to be chained and banished. The mark was trivial, a blue ring that appeared under the skin. Sometimes it was the left arm, for others it was the right. It sealed your fate instantly though, a threat of a deadly curse. Salty water had filled his lungs as the water had swept him away, they all watching, wondering if the water would take him. The sea had thrown him at these rocks then, too. But he had survived, clawing his way through the water, the metal chain threatening to drag him down. The ocean's depths had longed for him, he had felt it beneath him just as he did now. He had drifted in the water until his energy had been spent, and he had been sure death would take him then. Darkness had come at last, and sweet oblivion had taken him in its embrace. When he had awoken, he had been lying amongst the rocks, surrounded by those who should have been dead. The island was small, two miles off shore, their hell and their saviour all at once. Many of those that had been cast out by their settlements had arrived there. Many had not.

The boat plunged down a sudden swell with vicious intent and, for a moment, all any of them saw was black rock, slick with water and moonlight. There was a loud crunch, rocky teeth biting deep against wood, and suddenly the sea was amongst them. It rushed in through the jagged holes in their hull and the men braced against its force. All were aware that that death was amongst them now, that if they stopped rowing for even a moment the sea would claim them. More rocks, more waves, and the boat began its death throes.

Their craft was listing badly, the water up to their shins as black rocks surrounded them, they looming with grim expectancy. The sea churned and heaved, the boat at its mercy.

They had come seeking food, they had come seeking life. Now, all that waited for them was death. Camda's left arm clenched in fear and frustration, it longing to be free and he screamed in fury. He would not die here, he would not fail. Others took up his scream, the sound primal, it battling against the roar of the waves.

The whispers again, 'You must not kill another, not ever.'

Suddenly, they broke free of the rocks and relief surged through Camda. It was short lived though, a wave catching the side of the boat and rolling it effortlessly. Chaos surrounded him as he was thrown into the sea. He could not see, could not hear. Something crashed against him, a foot smashed into the side of his head, stunning him briefly. He cried out, instinctively reaching out with both arms, but only one able. Panic filled him, and he clawed at the water as best he could. He swam, swam for his life, in the dark confusion not knowing if he was swimming up or down, his legs powering him through the water.

Camda burst through the surface, filling his lungs with the night's air in ragged, choking gasps. The boat was rapidly sinking to his left and men dotted the water around him, many struggling. The shore was not far though, a white strip of sand that formed a small barrier between the rainforest and the sea. Jonan was shouting at them to get moving, waving towards the beach and the shadowy trees beyond it.

Gritting his teeth, Camda followed the others towards the shore, the boat a ruin but their plan not. Life on their small island had been tough, impossible even. The only food had been what they could fish, and a bitter-tasting root that grew sporadically amongst the rocks. They had been starving, dying. Jonan had arrived the year after Camda, full of anger and ambition. He had had no intention of remaining amongst the dead, he had declared. They would build a boat and sail back to civilization, curse and all. The men had been broken, yet something in Jonan's determination had sent a spark of life through the group. The dead had reawakened. They would use the boat to steal food and resources, they would be thieves in the night. Then, Jonan promised, they would find a new place to live in the rainforest, and free themselves of their chains.

'You must not kill another, not ever.' The whispers again, their voices filling the air around them.

I know! Camda wanted to scream at the night. Jonan was right, they should never kill. Yet, why did the idea consume him, why did it feel so right? It was the single most important rule, the reason why they had been given to the sea instead of being given to death. They had all but killed him though, and why should he not take that extra step?

The dry, white sand had never felt so good, and many of the men wept as they broke from the waves. For many, it had been an age since they had felt it beneath them. The rainforest stood before them, pitch black but for the shadowy shapes of its towering trees. A light wind rustled through the canopy, and a creature shrieked at the night. Disquiet fell upon the men as they bunched up, there less of them than had left. They should not be there. The dead should not rejoin the living.

Jonan was firm though. He clapped a man on the shoulder, flashed the others a smile and led them through the tree line and into the darkness. The moon held no sway here, its presence only seen in the shards of silver light that slipped between the canopy high above. The settlement was close, Camda could smell wood smoke in the air, he could taste the life ahead.

Progress was slow and treacherous in the dark. Suddenly, one of the men let out a moan and pointed upwards. Rows of icy blue eyes stared down at them impassively, unblinking. Inky black bodies filled the branches high above them, their silhouettes darker than the night.

'You must not kill another, not ever,' they murmured, a hundred voices rustling like fallen leaves.

A shiver betrayed Camda and he stared upwards at them with the others. His stare was returned ten-fold and he blinked, looking away. Each step was torturous, but he kept walking, past the other men, past Jonan, ignoring those above. He saw Jonan shake himself and follow, the others following suit. He would survive, they all would.

Ahead, the glow of fires could be seen flickering amongst the trees. Fire, life and food. All theirs for the taking. Jonan was ahead of him now, deliberately, not that Camda cared. He had but one goal, and it was not leadership.

They knelt amongst the fallen trees and saplings, surrounded by ferns and undergrowth as they looked out upon the settlement. Rows of simple wooden buildings surrounded a rough, beaten communal ground. It would be familiar to all of them, but this was Camda's home. Had been his home. He recognised every building, knew every occupant, every person who had dragged him through the rainforest and slung him into the water.

'You must not kill another, not ever.' Words repeated endlessly as he had grown up. Words repeated endlessly as he had married. Words repeated endlessly to his children.

The settlement was empty and he broke from their cover, broke from death and darkness. The others followed more cautiously, Jonan hissing at him to come back, to stay with them. Camda ignored him, walking between two small huts, they made of roughly bound branches and topped with dried leaves and mud. He walked amongst the buildings, they lit by braziers of burning wood. He could see his house now, could see the glow of the fire beside its door.

There was a sudden scream and he turned in fright, a small girl before him. She wore simple rags, a doll in one hand, and her face was unfamiliar to him. He raised a hand to hush her but she screamed again, a shrill, cutting sound. There was frightened shouting and doors burst open, people spilling into the night. Some carried weapons and Camda heard Jonan shout to the others, urging them to run. They were spread about the settlement though and there would be no escape for many. Camda did not care, his eyes were on those that stepped from his house. There was his wife, there were his children and with them another man, a neighbor, someone he had once called a friend. Camda knocked over a brazier with a cold, deliberate motion. Burning wood spilled across the ground, the dry wood of a hut close by catching instantly. The fire would spread, but Camda did not care. He picked up a burning branch and walked towards his family, a man returned from the dead. They were motionless with fear, and Camda stopped before them. His wife's eyes were wide, clutching their children to her side and she pulled them back towards her new husband. He was just as frightened as her, and he put an arm around her protectively. What else could he do in the face of the dead, Camda thought with cold detachment. He paused, he could still feel those eyes in the forest on him, could feel them watching him. Waiting.

'You must not kill another, not ever.' He heard them, he heard them clearly. If he could not kill, then he would simply burn it all. Slowly, Camda touched the torch to his home and to his life, and watched the flames spread.

Author's Note

'Amongst the Living,' is the first short story from my unpublished collection, Tales from Virdinia. I welcome all comments, reviews and feedback. Enjoy!

You can find more stories from this collection at https://www.wattpad.com/user/gavin_w

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

This is an artfully and beautifully written story. Vivid desctiptions and imagery. Powerful morality tale of Camda's defiant odyssey to defeat destiny and curse, and the ironucally tragic outcome. A pleasure to read!

[GavinWilliamsAuthor]

Thanks for your kind words, I'm really glad you enjoyed it!