On Such a Full Sea by Chang-rae Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

herself down even deeper, her leg now right again, and as one will, she had a welling of gratitude for the nurturing, this feeling that erased all thoughts of B-Mor behind her and of the open counties ahead, momentarily erasing even thoughts of Reg, whose voice and images she’d loaded onto the album card she’d sewn inside the pocket of her vest, plus some of his favorite oldies songs, which she would play in the card’s tinny voice, just to make out a chorus, “Only the young . . .” In a word, she was alone for the first time in her life, as if she were in a state of nature like the girl who lived by herself on an island in that ancient movie Fan once saw, hunting and fishing and swimming. What was her name? Fan could not remember. Could she have been called Fan? This Fan who could take care of herself, who could wield the spear, dive from the high rock, who could plunge into the deepest waters and hold her breath for as long as she wanted? But beneath her, the kindly fronds suddenly ossified, turning into muscled shoots. Chattering blindly at first, they found her. These ravenous eels. And as they gnawed at the flesh on her back, they lifted her, pushing her up and out of the water, all the weight returning to her and collecting in her leg. She was frantically wrestling the creatures when the woman reached back and hit her in the head with the tail end of a large flashlight. Fan fought some more and she was struck again, hard enough this time to take her breath away.
    When Fan came to, she was in the man’s arms, being lifted from the car. She may have been drugged again for she could only move her eyes. She could not quite speak. A strong breeze crossed them and, aside from the man’s animal odor, the air was damp but smelled green and fresh with what she didn’t yet know was the scent of young pines. She could hardly see a thing. There was complete cloud cover and it was as black as night gets, for out in the counties after sunset the settlements go wholly dark, the roads and buildings unlighted, the few shops shuttered and closed. They had driven up and around the peak of a hill, finally stopping in a cleared patch of flatter land. Around her she could make out the shapes of other vehicles and in the background the outline of a structure, a house built low to the ground and with wings on either side, one of which the man entered after the woman opened a door. The woman lighted the way and he brought Fan inside and laid her on a table.
    I’m going to sleep, Loreen said.
    Crank on the generator, he told her.
    She turned the light on his face and he squinted, his expression one of limited tolerance. She flashed on Fan.
    I don’t know what you mean to do with her but I’m so fed up and tired I don’t care. I’m hungry! So I’m getting myself something and going to bed.
    Get the generator on. Then come back.
    Get it on yourself!
    Do it.
    She cursed at him and left. For a while, Fan and Quig were just there in the dark but then a distant whirring could be heard and Quig pulled a chain and a shop light above her flickered twice and then came on. When her eyes adjusted, Fan could see in the penumbra that they were in a kitchen of sorts, fitted with a short run of cabinets, a freestanding utility sink, a burner plate, a large microwave on the counter. He asked what her name was and she was surprised that she wanted to tell him, though she wasn’t able. But he was a frightening-looking man. He was big, much taller and broader than most of the men in B-Mor, probably in his fifties, darkly bearded and mustached but with wild streaks of gray. When he removed his cap, he was balding, the smooth, wide dome of his head bulbous and very pale, as well as tattooed with many fine jagged lines: a pattern of cracks. Her extremities began to itch and prickle, and when he reached for her leg, Fan jumped, bringing on a hot shear of pain. He placed his large hands on her ankles, but gently, his touch oddly pacifying as he