Storm of Locusts

Chapter 32

It’s midday when we reach Wahweap. The shore slopes down to the water, white rocks turning to a sandier mix beneath our feet. A metal dock that’s seen better days reaches out past the shallows, branching into bays, offering room to anchor at least two dozen boats. But all the bays are empty, save one. And what’s parked there isn’t particularly impressive. A flat-bottomed boat about fifty feet long, give or take. White, with some sort of black and maroon patterned design on the sides that is peeling off like old paint in the heat. A dull white railing circles the boat on both the lower and upper deck, the upper deck open to the sky. Up top are a few old folding chairs, and next to one is a bright orange fishing pole, it’s red and white floater bobbing in the water below.

“Looks abandoned,” Rissa says, joining me. She holds her hand up to shade her eyes, scanning the lakefront as if there must be more to Wahweap than this. But she’s seeing the same limited options I am.

“Why would Nohoilpi say to come here?” I wonder, thinking of the bright modern city just a few miles behind us.

Rissa shrugs. “These gods of yours have a strange sense of humor. I wouldn’t put it past him to do it just to mess with us.” She steps out on the dock tentatively, and the metal structure rocks under her weight.

I follow after her, the dock swaying. It’s a little disconcerting, the way the flimsy structure floats on top of the water. If it collapses, the water is shallow enough that we could simply wade back to shore, but it’s unsettling anyway. I’ve never been on a body of water bigger than Lake Asááyi back home, and Lake Powell could swallow a hundred Lake Asááyis. I’m feeling nervous and having second thoughts about Nohoilpi’s advice. But we’re here, so I’ll see it through.

“Let’s go introduce ourselves to whoever owns that thing,” I say. “If there’s anyone home.”

Rissa and I move forward, Ben and Aaron trailing. The docks creaks and moans but holds together.

“Are we supposed to knock?” Ben asks as we reach the dilapidated old boat.

“On what? There’s no door.” Just an opening in the white railing big enough to fit through. It’s a small leap across a narrow strip of water to reach the deck, but it seems rude to invite ourselves.

“Hello!?” I call. And for good measure, “Yá’át’ééh?!”

A water bird squawks and flies out from beneath the edge of the dock not ten feet away. I whirl, startled, my hand automatically reaching for my gun. Rissa does the same. We watch as the bird flaps its wings, climbing into the blue sky and across the surface of the lake. I give her a tight smile. Seems I’m not the only one who’s jittery.

“Yíi!” shouts a voice from the upper deck of the boat. “Who’s down there scaring my birds?”

I step back to get a better view. An old Diné man who wasn’t there before is leaning over the white railing above us, giving me the evil eye. He’s wearing a blue terry-cloth robe over matching pajama pants and a ratty blue T-shirt. Thin black hair hangs down in a bowl around his grizzled brown face. He looks at me expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Sorry about your bird, but we’re looking for help.”

“Help?” he scoffs. He shuffles across the deck, muttering to himself. Climbs down the ladder to the lower deck. His body sways and rolls with the rocking of the boat, but he’s sure-footed in his fuzzy house slippers, clearly accustomed to spending time on the water. He comes to the edge of the deck and grasps the rail. He squints, one eye fixed on me as if he’s evaluating whether I’m worthy of his help. But he’s not much to look at himself.

“We were sent here from Twin Arrows. We were told you would help.”

“Who told you that?”

“Nohoilpi.”

“Nohoilpi, eh?” The old man scratches at a scruff of silver hair that lines his cheek. “Well, if Nohoilpi sent you from the Arrows, then you must be rich. What are you paying?”

“We’re not rich.” I hesitate, unsure how much to tell him, but his eyes are sharp and I didn’t miss that he appeared out of nowhere. I decide truth is best. “We have a friend who was kidnapped. We think the people who took him are on the other side of the lake at a place called Amangiri. We just need to get there. Nohoilpi said to come here and look for a boat. That crossing here was the fastest way. And if we didn’t get there by tonight, it would be too late.”

He cocks his head. “That old greedy bastard said all that?”

“Not word for word, but close enough.”

“Talkative bugger. Never used to talk that much when I knew him. Unless he was trying to take your money. And these ones?” He takes in Rissa, Ben, and Aaron with a sharp thrust of his lips. “Do they need my help too?”

“They’re with me.”

“Well,” the old man says, “maybe you aren’t rich, but you can’t just ride for free. What can you do?”

“Work,” I say automatically. “We can work, but we need to cross by sunset.”

“Work? What kind of work?”

I start to answer, but Ben cuts me off. “I can catch fish!” she says enthusiastically. “I used to fish a lot with my uncle. He said I was a natural. Fish love me.”

“They love you, eh?” He snorts but nods his head begrudgingly. Motions Ben forward, and she makes the short hop across the water with ease, landing gracefully on the swaying deck. “And the rest of you? What work can you do?”

We stand there for a minute. The old man waits.

“I’m good with mechanical things,” Aaron offers. “If there’s something on your boat that needs repairs, I could help.”

“Ah!” The old man claps his hands together. “Now you’re talking. Come on, then.” Aaron does as he’s told, grabbing the railing to pull himself across to the boat.

Rissa folds her arms over her chest, evaluating the old man. “I can cook whatever fish Ben catches. I’m good in the kitchen.”

The old man holds his hand out, bowing his head. “Invaluable, my dear.” Rissa blinks, startled, and then takes his outstretched hand and lets him help her across the water.

“And you?” he asks me. “I ain’t got no enemies that needs killing at the moment, so what can you do exactly?”

My mouth drops a little in surprise. “How did you know . . . ?”

“That sword on your back,” he says, eyes narrow as he motions to the pommel over my shoulder. “Glowing big as day. That’s a killer’s sword.”

“It’s glowing?” I almost reach out and touch Neizghání’s sword in the scabbard.

“And all those weapons you’re wearing. Who needs so many sharp pointy things?” He sighs and turns away. “Come on, then. I’ll figure out something for you to make yourself useful. Shouldn’t be too hard. An old man like me needs a lot of help. Out here on the lake by myself.” He looks back at me, impatient. “Well? Are you coming? I thought this was important.”

I stop myself from responding to his gibe. Barely. Leap lightly across to the boat and do my best to remember my manners. “Ahéheé, Grandpa,” I say. “Thank you.”

“You can call me Tó.”

“Toe?” Ben asks.

Tó pulls a foot out of his slipper and sticks it out, wiggling. Ben giggles and he beams at her, obviously just as tickled.

“How long will it take?” I ask, looking uplake to the Utah side, knowing Kai isn’t far away now.

“Ask him,” Tó says, looking at Aaron.

“What? Why?”

“He’s the one going to fix the engine, enit? How long is it going to take you to fix that engine?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I step forward, hands raised, because surely I didn’t hear that right. “The engine doesn’t work?”

“Well, not right now, but it’s going to work.” He winks at Aaron, who’s standing there looking bemused. “I got a real good feeling.” He claps Aaron on the shoulder.

“You said you could help us.” My voice is low, calm, but I can feel my frustration building.

“And I am. You better get to work, then.” He grins at Aaron and pokes a thumb in my direction. “This one’s in a hurry.”

Aaron shakes his head, smiling. “You have tools, Grandpa?”

“All in the back, by that broken engine. Been working on it all week, but she won’t sing for me.”

Aaron’s face lights up. “I’ll get her to sing.”

Tó chuckles. “I figured.” He shuffles back toward the ladder to the upper deck. Pauses to look over his shoulder at Ben. “Well, come on, then. Come show me how them fish love you.” Ben hurries over, and the two of them climb the ladder. I can hear Tó’s low voice saying something and Ben’s laughing replies. Already two peas in a pod.

“What is going on?” I mutter to no one but myself. Everyone seems to be taking it all in stride, but I feel a step behind.

“What do you think?” Rissa asks, coming up beside me. She has a rag in her hand like she’s ready to clean up the place. I can hear Aaron back by the engine, the sound of tools on metal.

“I think you all are acting strange,” I mutter. “And I’m tired of trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“We could try another way.”

I look pointedly around the empty marina. “There is no other way.”

“We could get back on the road. There’s got to be a road into Amangiri.”

“No doubt heavily guarded by a bunch of fanatics with explosives. Who knows if that road is even passable.”

“It might be worth taking the chance.”

Rissa’s eyes search mine for some kind of answer. And for the first time, I realize she’s willing to trust my lead. That something has changed between us, and it’s good. “No. We’ll let this play out.”

“Maggie!” Tó calls down. “Come on up. I figured out what you can do for me.”

I don’t even bother to ask how he knows my name. I just head for the ladder.

An hour later, we pull out of the dock. Ben cheers, and Aaron holds up a fist in victory. Rissa’s inside the boat somewhere, no doubt dutifully cleaning, but she pops out for a minute to give Aaron an encouraging smile. I’m just glad to be moving.

The old man puts me to work, like he said he would. First he has me pull a shade sail out and string it across the upper deck so he and Ben can fish in relative comfort. Even with the sun quickly moving toward evening, he grumbled that it was still too hot, so he has me connect small misting fans to the poles holding up the sunshades. I do it all with no complaints, but when he asks me if I would go downstairs and make him a nice refreshing iced tea, I give him a look that has him muttering about ungrateful “Native youth” and turning back to his fishing pole.

“I’ll do it,” Ben says, hopping up from her chair. She places her pole into a bucket next to her feet and steadies the reel on the railing to keep it from spinning. Turns and skips over to the ladder, braces her feet along the sides and slides down like an acrobat.

I fold into her abandoned chair, fanning my face. “Do you really have ice?” I ask, dubious. It’s got to be over a hundred, even in the shade. It would be a waste of his generator to keep something frozen, if it were even possible.

“You think I got ice?” he asks. “And here I thought you were smart.”

“Then why . . . ?” I wave a hand. “You know what? Never mind.”

I adjust the sword as it digs into my spine and stretch out my legs.

“You going to take that thing off?” Tó asks, his dark eyes on my sword.

“No.”

He grunts. Reels his line up and casts it out again.

“Was it really glowing?” I ask after a minute, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“You used it yet?”

I shake my head. “Not like it’s meant to be used.”

“Best to do it now, so there’s no surprises. Introduce yourself.”

I shift in my seat, turning to face him. “What do you know about it?”

“I know what it can do, which is more than you can say.”

I drag myself from the chair and walk to the center of the deck. Tó turns to watch, his face unreadable. I reach behind my right shoulder to grab the hilt and pull the sword free.

It’s as beautiful as I remember.

And with that memory comes another. Of Black Mesa. Our last battle. My betrayal. My stomach drops, and I can feel tears, heavy and hot, gathering in my eyes. I lower the sword, let the tip rest against the metal deck, as regret rolls through me.

“Ah . . . ,” Tó says quietly, his voice serious. “So it’s like that.”

I look up. I’d forgotten for a moment Tó was even there. I sheath the sword. “No, it’s not like that. It’s not like anything.”

He grunts.

“Take the sword again.” He gestures to me. “I don’t judge.”

I give him a look, but he’s serious. I gather myself, take a breath, and draw the sword a second time. Hold it up in front of me. He comes over, wraps his hand around mine. His palms are warm and dry. He jiggles my hands, checking my grip.

“Next time you touch this, you ask the atsiniltł’ish to come. It’s there, waiting for you. It just wants an invitation, jíni?” He looks at me, expectant. Making sure I understand. “Once the lightning is there, it’s just power. The sword acts like a . . . conduit. Helping you direct that power. You want to try it?”

“On a boat? In the middle of the lake? Is that safe?”

“Probably not. Tell you what. Just say hello. Introduce yourself so it knows you. And then when you’re ready, you invite it to stay.”

“Introduce myself,” I repeat.

“Go on!”

I exhale, feeling foolish. “Hello, sword,” I whisper.

“In Diné!” he says. “Sword don’t speak English.”

“Yá’át’ééh, sword,” I say, feeling even more foolish. “Shí éí Maggie Hoskie yinishyé.”

And to my utter shock, the sword grows warm in my hand, the hilt pulsing like a small fire. “Whoa!” I say.

Tó grunts. “Now it knows you. Now when you need it, ask it. Politely.”

“Amazing,” I whisper, and as if it heard the compliment, a flash of white fire streaks up the blade, changing the obsidian to white lighting. I gape in wonder. Finally!

“Okay, okay, enough!” Tó says. “Now it’s just showing off. Put that thing away before you burn down my boat.”

Moments later Ben comes back with Tó’s tea. “There wasn’t any ice,” she complains as she hands him the glass. “I looked everywhere.”

He takes the tea. Sips. “At least you tried.”

I don’t even look at him.

“Aaron said he looked at the map and it’s going to take a couple of hours to get to the closest stop to Amangiri. Said the water only goes so far and then we’ll have to cross on foot. Not too far. A mile, maybe less.”

“Okay.”

“We’re still going to have dinner, right?” she asks, voice sheepish.

Tó laughs. “Your brains are in your stomach, eh? Okay then, Loved-By-Fish, let’s catch some dinner.”

I get up to give Ben back her seat and pole. She smiles, grateful. Retrieves her pole. Reels and casts. I have no interest in watching the two of them fish, so I decide to make myself scarce.

“I’ll go down and help Rissa,” I say, heading over to the ladder.

“Not yet, Maggie,” Tó says. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He leans over, rifling through the half dozen small buckets he keeps on the deck. Stands when he can’t find what he wants and totters over to another set of buckets on the far side of the deck.

“Here it is,” he says finally. He shakes an orange bucket, and something metal rattles around inside. I go over to take a look. The bucket is full of tiny metal discs, like the pennies we used to flatten on the train tracks as kids, but unlike copper pennies, these discs are shiny and silver.

“What are they?” I ask, picking one up. It catches the light, bright and pretty in a bauble kind of way. Something that Mósí would like.

“Watch this!”

Tó totters back to the rail, the bucket of silver discs in hand. Ben’s recast, but her line is still, nothing biting yet. Tó reaches into his bucket and tosses a silver disc out into the water, close to where Ben’s floater bobs on the surface. The disc lands. It doesn’t sink immediately, but instead floats on the water, glinting in the light. Slowly it starts to spin, caught in the pull of the water, sending ripples of iridescence in a circle around itself. A sudden splash and the disc disappears. A second later something tugs on Ben’s line. A fish.

“Spinners,” Ben exclaims. “My uncles used to always say fish were attracted to anything shiny.” She heaves on the rod, reeling in her catch. Slowly at first, and once it breaks the water, faster. Sure enough, a fleshy little smallmouth bass twists on her hook. Once it’s in range, Tó scoops it up in a net and dumps it into an empty bucket.

“They’re not the only thing attracted to the shine,” Tó says. “All kinds of things are attracted to shine. You hear that, Maggie?”

I lean back against the rail, arms across my chest. “I am sure the psychology of fish is all very fascinating, but what does this have to do with me?”

Tó huffs. Throws another spinner into the water. The same process happens—shine, spin, and catch. Which Ben reels in, delighted.

“It’s got everything to do with you. It’s nature’s way, enit?” He takes a handful of spinners and tosses them wide across the surface of the lake. A dozen shiny baubles dancing in the sun. The water starts to roil as scores of fish come for the metal discs. Ben lets out a little gasp of awe, leaning over the railing, the importance of catching anything forgotten for a moment in the storm of fish.

“I’m going down to help Rissa, unless there’s something else you want to show me.”

Tó spits, clearly irritated that I’m not more impressed. I give him a few more seconds, but when he doesn’t say anything else, just settles himself back into his chair, I take that as permission to leave.