Paullina Simons - Inexpressible Island

The two young men menace Julian, both edging to his right, where they assume he is weakest. One guy swings a stick. Julian catches the stick in the crook of his right elbow and chops the guy on the side of the neck with his open left palm. The boy reels, is thrown off balance, and now Julian is armed. He hits the guy once on the forearm and even harder across his shoulder, all secondary but debilitating injuries. He squares off against the remaining youth. “Did you see how gently I tapped your friend’s arm with his own stick?” Julian says. “I could’ve bashed him in the face. And then he’d be dead. But, the night is still young. So what would you like to do? Run? Or fence?”

The dude clearly has learned nothing. He swings. Julian blocks, and kicks him in the knee. Howling, the guy drops to the ground. The entire confrontation has taken no more than twenty seconds.

Wild is overjoyed. “Finch, Dunk!” he yells. “Come here. I can’t fucking believe it! Did you see that?”

“He hit the dirt with such a beautiful thud,” Julian says with a light smile.

Finch and Duncan run over. Finch is not overjoyed. “No reason to knock them out like that,” he says dourly. “The cops will be here soon.”

“And now there’s less for them to do,” says Julian.

“Don’t listen to a word Finch says, Jules,” Duncan says. “That was amazing.”

“You got lucky, that’s all,” Finch says. “You caught them off guard.”

“You’re right, I did,” Julian says agreeably. “Otherwise I wouldn’t stand a chance.” He winks at Wild.

Wild throws his one arm around Julian. “Jules, you’ve been baptized by fire. You’re now officially a member of our Ten Bells Watch. Finch, go get him a Home Guard badge.”

“I can’t get him anything without an ID.”

“Get him an ID, too, Finch, or I’ll beat you with his stick,” Duncan says cheerfully.

Finch points to the groaning men. “What do you propose to do with them?” he says to Julian.

“Get me some rope, Duncan,” Julian says. “More may be coming, and I don’t want to worry about these three.”

“The rope we have is not for tying up delinquents,” Finch says. “The rope is for rescues, for saving lives. In case people are trapped and need to be pulled out.”

“Yes, thank you, Finch,” Julian says. “I know what rescue means. I don’t need a lot. I do need a knife, though.”

Duncan brings him a tangle of rope and a knife.

“No one here knows how to tie a knot,” Finch says. “So I don’t know what good the rope will do you.”

In half a minute, Julian binds all three men’s ankles and wrists with handcuff knots. Grimly Finch looks on, while Duncan and Wild celebrate. “We finally found our third musketeer, Dunk!” Wild says.

“We sure did, Wild.”

“So what was I, then?” says Finch.

“Aww, you’re not a musketeer, Finch,” Wild says. “You’re more like Richelieu.”

Finch ignores the mockery. “I think you made it too tight,” he says to Julian, “their circulation will be cut off.”

“That’ll teach them to loot houses,” Julian says, kicking one of them in the ribs. “Bastards.”

When Mia reappears in the street, Wild and Duncan call her over and interrupting each other tell her what happened, while she listens, twinkling approvingly at Julian. “He did that, did he?” she says. A disgusted Finch storms off.

“Folgate, Julian’s going to show me how to use a knife and a hammer,” Wild says. “And tie a handcuff knot.”

“Okay, let’s pipe down, Wild,” Julian says. “I’m not a magician. You can’t tie knots with one hand.”

“Who says?”

“As you were, boys,” Mia says. “But, Duncan, I need you. That woman is trying to drag a trunk the size of a cupboard out of her house. It’s too heavy for her, and it’s too heavy for me. I tried, but I can’t move it.”

“I’ll help you, Mia,” Julian immediately says, handing the stick to Wild.

“There you go,” Wild says. “Jules will help you, Mia. ”

“Shut up, Wild,” she says.

“Yeah,” says Julian. “Shut up, Wild.”

“Folgate, are you sure you don’t want Finch to help you move some heavy furniture?” Wild says, not shutting up—just the opposite.

“Shut up, I said! Of course I asked Finch first, but he’s busy. Pay no attention to him, Julian, come along.”

Leaving the boys snickering behind them, Julian and Mia make their way through the debris on the street to the old woman’s house. “They’re impossible,” she says. “Don’t mind them. They’re just teasing.”

“I know,” Julian says, inexpressibly pleased to be teased. “And I don’t mind.”

“So you know how to fight?” Mia says.

“I got lucky.”

“Sure you did,” she says, giving him an amused up and down. “I think it’s us who got lucky when you found us. I can’t tell you how badly we needed someone like you. Now that Lester’s gone, Duncan’s the only one facing the thieves. Nick comes sometimes, but he doesn’t like to fight. Wild likes to, but can’t. Hard to find someone who likes to and can.”

“Who says I like to?”

“I don’t know.” She squints at him. “You have that look about you.”

Julian squints at her in return, takes a breath. “Glad to help. Who is Lester?”

“One of us. He died last week,” she says.

“A blast got him.” At the house, Mia holds the kerosene lamp to light the way, and together she and Julian locate the woman’s half-open trunk in the debris of her partially destroyed home. The woman stands out in the street, shouting orders in a trembling but grateful voice. Near the spilled-out trunk lie necklaces and photo albums, a torn and dusty wedding veil, a child’s baptismal gown.

“Thanks for helping me,” Mia says to Julian as they collect the valuables. “Look how precious these small things are to her.”

“They’re not small,” Julian says. “They’re irreplaceable.”

“I guess. Often, finding these items is what matters most to these poor people. Not the house, but the wedding rings.”

Before he can respond, the all clear sounds. It’s an intense, one-note, high-pitched shriek, and it lasts one interminable minute. Julian can’t express the relief he feels for the blessed silence that follows. “Mia, you don’t do this every night, do you?” he says as they drag the trunk over the bricks. Please tell me you don’t do this every night.

“We try for every night. It doesn’t always work out.” She chuckles. “Sometimes Nick and Wild and Dunk get so drunk they can’t go anywhere when the siren calls. Finch judges them pretty harshly for that. He never overindulges.”

“In anything?”

That makes Mia blush for some reason and hurry past it without replying. “And the week Dunk had a concussion, I didn’t go. It wasn’t safe.” She shrugs, calmly acknowledging the reality of certain disadvantages of being a woman during war. “The thieves bring big wooden sticks. It’s a good thing all scrap metal, including tire irons, has been requisitioned by the city. Otherwise they’d be swinging iron, not wood, and we’d all be in a lot worse shape.”

After they pull the trunk out into the street and leave the old woman sitting on it, Julian looks Mia over. “Are you okay?” He stops her from walking. With his thumb, he wipes a trickle of blood off her forehead.

“Tonight was nothing.” She smiles. “It’s not always this easy.”

“This was easy?” Three houses destroyed, valuables lost, families homeless, looters. Seeing her quizzical expression, he coughs. “I mean, of course it’s been worse, but surely this wasn’t easy.”

Mia tells Julian that once Duncan had to battle six guys on his own.