Deluge

CHAPTER 14

YANA WAS SO numb she could not feel the hands that grasped her arms to haul her out of the river.

She thought she was probably dying already. It was said that the cold began to feel almost warm when one was truly freezing, and the water beneath her had suddenly begun feeling that way. It was a relief.

Then there was the olfactory hallucination that told her she was smelling the sulfurous odor of the communion cave. She had the oddest sensation of something slipping between the legs of her snowsuit, bearing her up. Perhaps that was the case, since she didn’t fall back into the river even though her stiff and iced-over mittens could no longer maintain a hold on the ice. Her arms simply lay splayed in front of her like a pair of useless logs. Though she vaguely felt that she needed to survive for Sean, the kids, and even Kilcoole, she was so drowsy she couldn’t be bothered to care about all that at the moment.

The brightness of the snow dimmed beneath the shadow of a large form that reached down and grabbed her arms, while her parka was jerked upward by the hood.

“Well, well, we seem to have caught a big fish,” a gruff male voice said, and the part of Yana that was still alert to her surroundings knew she was not out of trouble. This was one of the troops from the ship.

But then another voice, a familiar one, said, “Yes, well, she’ll need tending to, and so will some of your people, so we’d best return to the village and then we’ll see who’s caught whom.”

Yana was facing the wrong direction to see the speaker, but she could almost feel Sinead’s rifle leveled at the ship’s crew. At any rate, she was pulled more gently upward and back. She felt almost weightless, as if buoyed up toward her rescuers.

Then the ice chose to break under her and splinter back under Sinead’s feet, forcing her sister-in-law and the village rescuers to retreat.

“Ladder!” Sinead called. Then, close to her ear, Yana heard, “Hang on. This is going to be slow, but we’ll have you ashore soon.”

In front of her the soldiers were scrambling off the river and up onto the banks as the ice crack chased them from her hole back in the direction of the ship.

Sinead shifted her grip, and Yana dipped back down to her chin momentarily as the ice under her split even further. Then suddenly she was borne up and a new current carried her back toward her rescuers, stopping only when the ice remained firm enough for her to be hauled upward.

She looked up and saw Sinead’s eyes dancing with amusement behind their iced-over lashes. “Thanks, Sean,” Sinead said.

They hauled Yana onto the bank and bundled her onto a sled, but not before she saw the sleek dark head pop out from beneath the ice and regard her with an Okay, now? look before the seal dived back into the river.

“ADRIENNE, C’EST MOI.” Marmie’s voice preceded her through the door. Adrienne sagged with relief until she saw the laser pistol pointed at Marmie’s back, followed by a tall young Corpsman.

Shoving Madame aside, Adrienne growled, “Drop it,” but Madame reached up and grabbed the man’s wrist. He looked down at her with alarm.

“This is Christian, Adrienne. He’s a friend. Quickly, we must leave this room. Everything here can be seen from the adjoining one.”

Adrienne glanced over to where the animals had been making their escape. Not one hair remained of either of them. She didn’t like to leave Zuzu behind, but her formerly pampered feline friend had given ample proof that she could take care of herself when necessary. And now Zuzu also had an ally.

SKY AND ZUZU watched from one of the rat holes as Marmie, Adrienne, and the soldier passed.

The fur along Sky’s spine rippled all the way to the tip of his tail. Caged again.

Zuzu’s whiskers twitched thoughtfully. I think not. Neither Adrienne nor Madame are afraid.

Cats know when humans are afraid? How?

Elementary, mon cher otter, Zuzu told him. It is a matter of scent and posture. Their shoulders are not tensed in fear of his weapon, their hands are relaxed, and most of all, they do not smell afraid.

Then too, I overheard Madame whisper, “Et maintenant, Christian?” to the gendarme. From this I deduce that they are on cordial terms. He will no doubt help them escape.

Sky considered this. Good. I will escape too.

You cannot go with them. You will draw attention to their unsuitable amiability.

How then? My friends who are river seal children do not know where to find me, so I must go to them.

How will you find them?

We talk in our heads, in the same way that cats and otters talk. When I am near to them, they will hear me call and come.

And if they cannot come?

Then they will guide me to them and I will save them. Friends save friends. We have done this hundreds of times.

In that case, follow me. I know a way out for otters and cats. Unfortunately, it is too petite for humans, even dainty ones such as Adrienne and Madame.

Otters are very slinky and can fit through very small places.

Indeed. If it transpires that Madame and Adrienne have escaped, I may decide to come with you on your search.

Oh? Do cats swim fast like otters?

I am fond of water, oui, Zuzu said with a proud lick to her shoulder. I am, I confess, unique among my species in that I swim very well indeed. Er-how much swimming would be involved in your search?

There is a sea. I saw that the river seal children were carried across it in a sky ship. This otter can ride in sky ships but cannot make them go. Though otter paws are very useful, they work better for swimming than for making things fly. Even the paws of sky otters, he added regretfully.

Ah, Zuzu said with regret as well, I comprehend perfectly. You wish to help your friends, as I do mine. Still, it seems a shame, does it not, to disband our alliance when we have discovered how much more useful even my brains and beauty and vast experience of this place can be with the assistance of your excellent teeth, paws, and exquisite slinkiness.

Sky preened. Otters are excellent, it’s true. Excellent is good, isn’t it?

Zuzu said, Excellent is very good indeed, my friend. So, shall we embark on this mission together as far as we can before splitting up?

Sky agreed happily. Sky otters were smart and brave, and learned to do things quickly, but having a cat for a friend was almost like having another otter or a river seal helping.

Zuzu led the way through the dark, rat-infested passages. Sky heard the scrabble of claws and, worst of all, the nasty scent messages the rats left, telling how they would use their rat nails and their big sharp teeth, if given a chance. Twice Zuzu walked straight up to a group of the rodents, and their red eyes gleamed. They thought they could gang up on the cat and kill her, but Sky edged up as close as he could to his companion and made his own eyes small and mean and said, Hah! Cats eat rats. Rats do not eat cats. I think otters eat rats too!

The rats fled. They were very big rats, Zuzu said, but Sky was twice the size of the largest and he let forth a scent message that told them he was extremely fierce and that his claws and teeth were twice as big and sharp as any rat’s. He might have said something about the hundreds of relatives who were right behind him and Zuzu too, but if he did, he had no way of knowing if the rats believed him or not.

At last the rat droppings and remnants of his own scent messages and the latrines of the prison cells above and below them diminished and the passages grew less dim. Sky sniffed eagerly. Salt water! He smelled salt water. He was not a sea otter, but according to the Father River Seal, he was an estuarial otter who could swim in salt water as well as fresh. He did not like it as much as fresh water, but he was getting used to it the more he did it. The cat led him to an opening through which a morning sky was tapering from the pink of the inside of a lovely otter’s mouth to the blue of the river seal twins’ eyes, and he quivered with happiness as he looked forward to swimming in the dark blue-gray waters washing up against the outside of the prison, directly below the hole.

It is a long way down, Zuzu said. Farther than I thought.

It would be better if there was a slide, Sky agreed. But otters are good divers. Are cats?

Zuzu considered. She did not like admitting that cats in general were in any way inferior to otters, or that she in particular was less skilled at something than he was. So she said, Cats are made to climb and leap. You dive and I’ll climb down, then leap in to join you.

Sky leaned forward, pushed with his back feet and muscular tail, and entered the water with a feeling of freedom he had been missing for what seemed hundreds of hours, or the otterly equivalent.