Legends of a Shattered Age

1

T

he departing ship bobbed over the waves, fast diminishing toward the horizon.

Kita and Kenyatta had been down on the beach to look at the incoming wares, as they always did when a merchant ship arrived. But the higher import prices had quickly darkened what was usually a fun event of haggling and bargaining, so they left in short order. After hiking up what was more a hill than mountain at the back of the little town, they had engaged in a bit of sparring until the ship departed. Now from their position atop the barren hills of Rocky Point, Jamaica, the two friends looked from the unhappy clump of buyers on the beach to the merchant ship,

Salty Lady

, climbing over the rolling waves of the ocean headed northwest.

Kita whistled through his teeth, watching the departing ship bob over the waves, fast diminishing toward the horizon. “That captain rushed out of here like his life depended on it.”

“Yeah, man.” Kenyatta glanced down at the beach, and the unhappy shop owners who’d just paid a premium for goods they’d paid half as much for over many years. “You tink him lying about the ocean swallowing up ships at sea? Maybe an excuse for higher prices?”

“If not for the fear in his eyes and his urgency to be gone from here, I’d have thought so.” Kita shook his head. “No. That man was afraid.”

“What come out of the ocean to scare a sea captain?” Kenyatta asked. “Him look like he want to get out of the ocean forever, but in a hurry to get away from here at the same time. Never seen anyting like it.”

Kita turned away from the ocean to look down at the town below. “Whether he’s lying or not, it doesn’t matter. Sumfest is in two days. The grounds are freshly tilled and smoothed, and those angry vendors will make plenty of profit like they do every year.”

The mention of the annual summer festival nicknamed “sumfest”, brought a smile to Kenyatta’s face. He thought of the beach parties, the city streets packed with revelers, the straw hut taverns and eateries overflowing with jovial patrons talking loud and sipping rum. “Yeah, man. Dem carryin’ in a few new artists this year. Maybe …”

He trailed off when a sound, like an animal the size of a mountain taking in a deep breath, rolled over them. He looked out at the ocean to see a colossal wave rising several hundred feet from the beach. “Bombaclot …”

“What now?” Kita asked, turning back.

Kenyatta never took his eyes off the ocean as he waved Kita over. “Impossible.”

Kita’s eyes widened. “What is

that

?”

The wave approached the shore, picking up speed and size.

“Ken …” Kita cast Kenyatta a sidelong glance. “It’s coming straight for land.

Fast

.”

Kenyatta looked from the ocean to the throngs of people. Thatch-roofed huts filled with eating and drinking locals and visitors who’d come to perform at Sumfest. People socializing under towering coconut and palm trees, directly in the path of the still growing wave. “We’ve got to warn everyone. Now!”

“No time.” Kita pointed out at sea.

They stared helplessly as the swell—now more than fifty feet high—raced toward the shore.

When revelers on the beach finally spotted the danger, shouts and panic ensued. People scrambled from homes and buildings; those beachside sprinting away from the shore. Some climbed onto the roofs of houses while others tried to climb trees or simply ran.

Kenyatta and Kita shouted at people to come towards them for higher ground, but to no effect. They might as well have been yelling from the other side of the world, for the distance and the roar of the predatory wave drowned out their voices.

Kenyatta clenched his fists in helpless frustration as the wave reached the beach and washed right over it. Shouts turned to screams, which were quickly silenced by the crashing water.

The two friends could do nothing but watch as huts were blasted apart as though made of stacked twigs. Some of the older, hardier trees withstood the flood while others snapped in half or were snatched out of the ground and washed inland to burst through the stone and wooden walls of homes and businesses.

Kenyatta and Kita looked on in horror, their eyes darting left and right as they took in the tragedy. The ocean itself rose up before their eyes and flowed over those buildings that managed to survive the first impact. People thrashed around in the rushing currents like ants in a stream. Some were lucky enough to wash upon high ground, while others collided with trees and buildings, or were pushed further into town and out of sight.

Then it stopped.

Kita’s mouth worked silently as he watched in helplessness at the tragedy below. “How?” he finally managed. “How in the name of the Gods was that possible? Waves can’t just leap out of the ocean. They don’t raise up only in one spot, and settle back down like that.”

Kenyatta didn’t hear him. He just stared at the chaos which became a blur through the tears welling in his eyes. Rocky Point was a peninsula separated from the rest of the island by a clump of small bare mountains. In front of those mountains were a series of hills overlooking a town of colorful structures that brought the town to life.

Now that life was being crushed. Kenyatta looked out at the ocean. It washed completely over the town to crash at the base of the hills where he and Kita stood.

Like fingers sliding across the sand, the water retreated, leaving complete devastation in its wake. Homes and businesses lay in splinters. Trees, along with the dead and injured, lay strewn about the once-happy town like leaves after a windy day.

Kenyatta heard Kita’s voice, and it sounded as though it wasn’t the first time his friend had spoken.

“Ken,” Kita placed a hand on his shoulder, “we’ve got to get down there and help the survivors. Another one might come in.”

Kenyatta let out a ragged breath and nodded. “Yeah … yeah, man.”