They sailed across the ocean with the rift, and the island, at their backs. A fleet of ratty catamarans made of dried drift wood lashed together with seaweed and vines. Their once crimson sails, now faded to a pale pink, billowed and their pontoons splashed in the gentle waves as they progressed.

At the beginning of their journey, there were men and women playing loud instruments. Drums and horns the likes of which Jericho had never seen before. As time went on, however, the islanders' interest in music waned. Those people not integral to the job at hand lazed in the sun, or fished off the sides of their boats. Others sharpened weapons like the Jensai, or other spears which look more useful for throwing.

Jericho was alone. Marika, who had so kindly been his guide mere hours earlier, refused to even ride in the same boat as him. In fact, the vast majority of the islanders had refused so Cap'n stood up and decided to take him in his personal boat. It was bigger than the others, but only slightly, and high atop the tall mast was a tattered flag, a green circle, outlined in gold, emblazoned on a blue triangle of fabric. It looked old, much like the man who commanded the islanders.

"Cap'n . . . " Jericho said after two hours of silence. The sound of his voice cut through the gentle splashing of the water and whistling of the wind almost like a fog horn and he adjusted his volume accordingly. He inspected the weapon in his hand and remembered something. "When the riftmen touched the water in the safety spot . . . it was like they burned up. What was that about?"

"Freshwater bringin' life to you and I, death to dah riftie-man."

"I see . . . and when I stabbed that riftman on the mountain, he started convulsing . . . "

"Aye," Cap'n said, "Devi'shark poison."

"What exactly is a 'Devi'shark'?"

"Devi'shark bein a shark like a iz-land," Cap'n said in his nonchalant way, "giant mouth, all kindsa rippers."

Jericho pulled his limbs in closer to his body now, trying not to touch the water all around him as he imagined a shark the size of an island with poisonous teeth. He decided it was best not to think about it, to focus on other things. "What . . . what happened back there on the island? Why do you think I'm such a strong warrior?"

Cap'n stared at Jericho for a long time, making him feel uncomfortable. "Jericho bein' dangersome war child."

"Why do you think that?" Jericho punched the pontoon on which he sat. "I ran from that fight, I got people killed! It's my fault you guys had to evacuate that island."

Cap'n sigh and put his hand to his brow, Jericho could tell he was working his way through some sort of major problem, or conflict of heart. "There would have come a time when we needed to go either way."

"Whoa . . . what happened? You changed the way you talk."

"Been a long time since I talked like the Crusties." Cap'n said with a nod. "Dare say I still got it in I . . . uh . . . me."

"Who are the Crusties?"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is who are you?"

"I've already told you who I am! Hugh Jericho!"

"Beyond Hugh Jericho. Who are you?"

"I . . . I don't know, I'm an orphan? A coward? An inexperienced twit?"

"More than that. You have a warning from the riftmen."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, how you get that?"

"I guess it's not the first time. I told Marika about when it happened before, when I was a kid."

"How'd you get to the rift, Hugh Jericho?"

"What?"

"We found you in the ocean, near the rift." Jericho could see that Cap'n was struggling to speak clearly, to find the right words, the words of the 'Crusties' "How you get there?"

"I . . . I don't really remember."

"Marika says you killed a man on a boat."

"My BROTHER killed Grant."

"Tell me more, start with that."

Jericho scratched his head and thought hard about it. "Well, we kind of just drifted around for a while. We ran out of gas and then we just . . . let the waves take us."

---

We ran out of gas and then we just . . . let the waves take us. We had one jerrycan left and for some reason we figured it would be important to save it for some special emergency we both wished would never come.

"It's getting bigger." Caleb said to me one day, staring out at the dark and colourful rift.

"No, it's not," I responded, "we're just drifting closer to it."

Caleb grew nervous then. I saw him play with the knife in his pocket, as if it alone could save him from the riftmen, if they came calling.

We were running low on freshwater, and our energy reserves were depleting. The closer we came to the rift, the more mutated fish we found. Looking back I wonder if they were even mutants at all. They must have just been animals from the rift, like those vicious killers we'd come to know so well.

One morning, as I came out of the cabin and onto the deck my heart stopped. The horizon was entirely eaten up by the rift, which was like a wall in the distance. I noticed the water around the thing was darker and for some reason it even looked warmer than the miles of ocean behind us.

I heard Caleb as he woke up and blocked the door. "Hugh, what's going on? Let me out."

"Caleb it's . . . it's not looking good out here."

"What do you mean? Let me see."

"Just . . . Don't freak out, okay?"

Caleb pushed past me and grabbed his hair with one hand. "Okay, that's fine, we'll use the emergency gas, we'll just get away from here."

"And go where?" My arms covered my chest. "There's nothing left for us Caleb, our parents are gone, our food is almost gone too. We're stranded and alone."

"So . . . what? That's a good reason to just let that thing swallow us up?"

I stared at my brazen little brother, then off towards the rift. I listened to Caleb dig around below deck, then he sprang back out with our last can of gas. "I'm the captain," he said and I was shocked to hear him cling to the title given him by Grant, "I'm going to get us outta here."

That was when I felt it, the tugging, the calling. I heard my brother speaking to me, but I didn't register his words.

"Caleb?" I asked, "where's your knife?"

Caleb checked his pockets and said, "by the bed I guess." But he wasn't really paying much attention to me.

I went down to the small space we both slept on together. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but finally I found what I was looking for. As I came back out onto the deck, Caleb was revving the motor and preparing to leave.

"You gonna finally grow up and protect us if we need it?" He said over his shoulder and I looked down at the knife. The blade swung out and I tested my grip on the handle.

"Hey, captain," I said with a heavy voice that fell from my lips without thinking. He turned and looked at me, confused at first.

"What is this?"

I pressed the knife against his gut and growled, or at least I can kind of remember growling but who knows what the sound actually was. He put his hands in the air and his eyes grew wide.

"Hugh, what are you doing?"

"I'm the captain now." The words were out of my control now, all I felt was that intense pull towards the rift.

"Okay, that's fine." He stepped back from the helm and I urged him towards the door to the cabin. "Just take a deep breath okay? Relax."

Without another word I locked Caleb up and turned to the wheel. I spun it around in my hands and felt the urging inside of me begin to ease as I approached the giant hole in our atmosphere. It seemed to giggle at me, to tempt me further and further until, finally, I was right beside the things.

Caleb cursed at me from his useless position inside. He threatened me and begged me to stop. He pounded on the door, but all I could hear was the calling of the rift as it beckoned me forward.

Passing through the rift was easier than I imagined. It was as if there was no boundary at all, and then the next thing I knew that dark, alien landscape was my own, the rift at my back showcased the beautiful blue of the familiar earth sky, and I knew I was on my way home.

---

" . . . and I knew I was on my way home. Somehow. I don't even know how to make sense of that. I'm just kind of . . . remembering this stuff as I say it, you know?" Jericho cast his eyes down and ran his hand through his hair.

"Some say story telling has a strong mumbo."

"Yeah, yeah, mumbo jumbo this, dark jumbo that! You people don't make any sense!"

"Mumbo is like . . . white magic, in a way. It's our best defence against the rift dwellers."

"And Jumbo is . . . the opposite of that?" Jericho thought of every time he was told he was full of Jumbo; Marika. Ty. Was he really full of some sort of evil?

"Jumbo is the magic of the rift. It's dark, it attacks a person's I" he tapped the tips of his fingers on his forehead. "Mumbo comes from I." He tapped his chest.

"What's with that, anyway? The whole 'I and I' thing, what is going on there exactly?"

"I and I." Cap'n again tapped his body -- forehead, heart. "Head, heart. The centres of I. When you say it that means you are . . . speaking true, or from a place ruled by both I and I, logically emotional."

"I see."

"Your head is full of Jumbo, but you can over come that."

"How do you know?"

"I and I know, Hugh Jericho."

Jericho turned to look in the direction they were travelling. He thought about how nice it was to speak with Cap'n, he'd forgotten how easy conversations could be.