Nightfall (21 page)

Several hours later, Line's fever broke. Marin and Kana had been sleeping fitfully. There was a steady clamor of thunder in the distance, which made it hard to remain asleep. She didn't even realize that Line was awake—let alone feeling better—until he spoke.

“It's really dark in here.” Line said this casually, as if Night was just a candle that had been blown out.

“Line!” said Marin excitedly. She crawled over to his side and felt his forehead. It was cool now. “How's your arm?”

“Feels like I left it on a campfire overnight—but it's better.”

“Kana, can you take a look at it?”

Kana crawled across the cool, dry sand. His waxed canvas pants and wool sweater were caked in mud and dried bits of seaweed. He brushed a lock of blond hair from his eyes, smearing dirt across his pale face.

He studied Line's arm. “The swelling is down,” he said. “Now we just have to keep an eye on it.”

“Finally some good news,” said Marin, ruffling Line's hair.

A long roll of thunder came from outside the cave, followed
by another. There was something almost rhythmic to the sound.

After a reasonable amount of time had passed, Marin spoke up. “We should go,” she said. “Line, are you up for walking?”

“I think so.”

Marin crawled to the mouth of the cave. “It's not raining, and the moon is out,” she announced. “Don't you find that weird?”

“Really?” said Kana. “Even with all that thunder . . .”

“It can't be thunder,” said Line. He crawled from under the overhang and stood up straight next to the stream.

Marin and Kana joined him.

“There's no lightning,” said Line. “Besides, thunder starts like a faraway rumble, then gets sharper—like a crack. Right? And like Marin said, it's not even raining.”

He frowned. When he awoke from his feverish sleep, the thunder was the first thing he'd heard. It was steady, as if a great storm were drawing near but never arriving.

“What is it, then?” asked Kana.

“That's what I've been trying to figure out,” replied Line. “The sound comes every ten seconds, right? It's almost like there's something intentional to it.” He paused, uncertain whether he should continue. “Kana, remember back in the woods? Those slabs that were built into the side of the canyon?”

“Yeah?”

“What did they look like to you?” Line asked.

“I don't know,” said Kana. He sighed and then rubbed his eyes savagely. “What do you think?”

“Doors,” said Line. “They look like massive stone doors. There are lots of them—what if the thunder sound is them opening one by one?”

“Why would they be opening so regularly?” asked Marin, nuzzling her nose into her oilskin for warmth. “I mean, most doors just open at random, when people want to come or go.”

“Maybe the doors only open at Nightfall,” said Line. “They might open in sequence. Maybe it's all timed.” He sighed heavily. “I have no idea. My point is, that's
not
thunder.”

“We better go,” said Kana, rising to his feet.

They left the cave and resumed their trek up the gully. As they splashed their way upstream, Line was tempted to insist that they return to the seabed, even though Marin seemed intent on following the woman's advice.
And we trust her why, exactly?
Line gritted his teeth but continued on.

After widening for several hundred feet, the gully narrowed again until it was nothing more than a tear in the cliffs. The tightness of the space was unnerving—a claustrophobe's nightmare—because the farther they went, the more the walls pressed in on them.

Kana led the way, with Marin and Line behind. They splashed through the stream, soaking themselves yet again. After about twenty minutes, the gully came to a dead end, enclosed by piles of stone boulders. Water poured down through crevices in the rocks and gathered in a deep black pool. The moon shone dully, as if there were several layers of translucent clouds obscuring its light. Nothing stirred. Marin walked silently to the pool and drank deeply. The water tasted sharp
and fresh. It was a melancholy place—full of gurgling water but devoid of any other life. A mist of vapor hugged the dirt and swirled around their feet.

“So what now?” asked Line.

“We leave the gully and head for the white stone arch,” said Marin. “She said it was just past the old walls.”

“I'm having second thoughts,” said Line. Going through that narrow part of the gully had crystallized his doubts. “We don't know anything about who was actually speaking to you. Why would we assume she's trying to help us?”

“I understand,” said Marin. “But what's the alternative?”

“I'm just saying,” said Line. “What if the voice you heard was one of the creatures?”

Marin shook her head. “If the creatures could speak, wouldn't they have said something at the mayor's house, when they were attacking us?”

“What did the voice sound like?” interjected Kana. “Did it sound like someone from Bliss?”

Marin thought back to the citadel. “No,” she said. “But I had no trouble understanding it. At times her voice sounded harsh, but then it would suddenly go soft.”

“She's spoken to me before,” said Kana quietly, almost to himself. “I thought it was a dream.”

“When?” asked Line. He lowered his head, trying to make eye contact with Kana.

“It doesn't matter,” muttered Kana.

Line stood, suddenly alert. Something was up with Kana.
What isn't he telling us?
Line turned to Marin. “I have a bad feeling about this. Especially because she's telling us to go back
into the forest. It could be—well—a death trap . . . don't you see that?”

Marin sighed. “Look, if you want to stay here, freezing to death and debating this—go right ahead. I'm in favor of finding a boat, and quickly. It's a risk, but it's also our best option.” Her volume rose steadily until she was nearly shouting.

“Calm down,” said Line. “We're just trying to think this through.”

“We can't
think
our way off the island!” Marin snapped. Her sudden anger surprised her. She began walking around the pool of dark water, and hopped onto the nearby boulders. She found a narrow path leading away from the pool and into the meadow. “I'm going to find that arch. All right?”

This wasn't a question—it was a declaration. Marin punctuated her statement by jumping from a boulder onto the path. She walked on, and within seconds she was out of sight.

Kana stared after her. His face was paler and his jaw seemed more prominent than Line remembered. Line reached into his backpack, pulled out one of the last apples, and offered it to Kana.

Kana cringed and batted it roughly away with his hand.

“Kana!” said Line with shock, bending down to pick up the apple.
What's going on with him?

“I don't want your apples,” said Kana. His shoulders were hunched and tense, as if readying for a fight. “So don't shove them in my face.”

“All right,” said Line in a studiously even tone. “Do you want to tell me why you're angry?”

Kana glared at him, but then his features began to soften
and his shoulders relaxed. “I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm . . . I'm . . . I'm just not myself.”

Inwardly, Line felt a mounting sense of panic. They were all in terrible shape, physically and mentally. To make matters worse, their plan was going to pieces. The original plan had always been a long shot, but at least it was a
sensible
long shot, and one based on facts. There was a fishing depot on the Coil River. And it had a spare boat. This was certain. They had all agreed to go there, and this agreement had pushed them forward as a team. But now Marin had stomped off and Kana was having some sort of fit.

“Kana, you're not making sense,” said Line. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Kana said nothing for a moment. At last, he spoke, and when he did, tears rolled down his cheeks and there was an unmistakable quiver in his voice. “Line, we've been friends for a long time, but I can't talk about it . . . not right now.”

Kana took a step away from Line.

“Why not?” demanded Line. He watched Kana closely, searching for a clue in his body language, anything that might help him understand what was going on. Honestly, Line wanted to grab him and shake him. Instead, he waited.

“Listen,” said Kana finally. “The two of you need to get off this island.”

“Huh?” said Line. “You mean the three of us.”

“Right,” said Kana. And without another word, he started up the path after Marin.

They walked single file along the narrow path that hugged the cliff walls and meandered into open meadows. They went through thickets of waist-high undergrowth—hedgerows and bushes interspersed with prickly vines. Marin and Line were able to see fairly well here. Clouds dotted the sky, but the moon emitted enough light for them to discern the rough contours of the landscape.

It was easy enough for Kana to follow the trail, but he also followed the scent. He had first picked it up back in the gully, and it had been growing steadily stronger. It kindled a hunger that was so strong, he feared what he might do to satiate it.
Careful. Don't give yourself away. Not yet.
He thought about his outburst at Line.
Where did that come from?
It felt like he was losing control—of his body
and
his emotions. He needed to be the old Kana for just a little longer.
Get to the boat. That's the goal. The boat. Get there before the others wake.

After an hour of steady walking, the rain returned. At first it was soft enough to ignore. Soon it increased in volume and
power, and the raindrops themselves grew colder and colder until they changed into slush. The three of them were drenched and shivering, eyes fixed on the ground as they looked for obstacles that would trip them up. The meager consolation was that the rain washed away their footprints, and hopefully the smell of their bodies, which might make it easier to escape detection.

They stopped for a minute to regroup, crouching beneath some large glacial rocks. The rocks provided scant protection from the rain, but it was something. In front of them, the trail continued down a steep dip in the landscape. From their vantage point, it looked like a giant bowl depressed into the earth. Kana could see straight lines—walls—arranged in a grid. They were close.

He looked at Line and Marin. They were a sorry sight: bruised, cold, and hungry. Then something farther away caught his attention. He stood up. Marin started to rise as well, but Kana put out his hand to stop her.

“Wait,” he said. He stared at the forest's edge, several hundred yards distant. After a long pause, he shook his head. “I guess it was nothing.”

“You're sure?” asked Marin. “We shouldn't move until you're positive.”

Kana continued to gaze into the woods, but nothing stirred. They continued slowly along the path, which led down toward the bottom of the bowl. The area here was more overgrown, with thick knots of twisted underbrush. Puddles of water and mud filled the path. Water dripped everywhere—from leaves, branches, and razor-sharp thorns. As the path made a final
descent into the bowl, they came upon a fork. The main trail continued down, while a smaller path veered back up toward the cliffs and the old seabed.

Line stopped. “I'd rather go up than down into this mess,” he shouted into the rain.

Marin nodded. She felt the same way but was reluctant to leave the main path. She looked at Kana. “What do you think?”

“The cemetery is down that way,” he said, pointing into the bowl. “Those must be the old walls the woman was talking about. If we're following her instructions, then we have to go past the cemetery.”

Marin turned to Line. “Are you okay with this?”

He shrugged wearily. “I guess I don't have a choice.” Rain dripped all over his face—his chin, ears, even his eyebrows.

Within a few minutes, they arrived at the bottom of the bowl. Kana was right. The cemetery walls. They were set in an orderly grid, like a giant, sprawling maze that kept on going and going. Only certain sections were used as the cemetery; others were beginning to decay. Weathered but imposing porticos served as entrances to different parts of the grid.

“This is it,” said Line grimly. He had last been here two years ago, at his mother's funeral. Those were the Evening years, with the sun low in the western sky. He remembered it vividly—the long shadows, the chill in the air, the sound of shovels scraping the earth, and the smell of burning incense. The vicar who gave the eulogy had carried a torch to shed light on her gravestone. Line remembered little of what the vicar had said. He had been focused almost entirely on Francis, who had sobbed unrelentingly.

Line carefully made his way through the dripping underbrush. He approached a portico that led into the grid, but stopped short of entering. Marin walked to where Line was standing. Despite the rain, she could still see the familiar contours of gravestones in a series of rows. She and Kana had been at the funeral, too. The entire town of Bliss had been there. She could still picture Line, wearing his black dress coat, holding his brother's hand. Her heart broke for him.

Kana joined them. He felt slightly faint, but he forced himself to focus on the walls themselves. They were roughly twice the height of a grown man and thick, strong enough to support a hefty roof or to hold off an attack. And they certainly weren't the sort of stone structures built merely to enclose a graveyard.

“They use this place,” said Kana softly.

Line frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We use this place during the Day and they use it at Night. It's a cycle. It's the same with the houses, the woods, everything.”

Line stared at the gravestones. “But what would they want with this place? This is
our
graveyard.”

Kana had a hunch, but he didn't dare say. Instead, he walked underneath the portico and approached the nearest wall. Despite the rain, the scent was so strong, it made his head spin with hunger.

“I'll be right back,” said Kana. He grabbed hold of the pebble- and moss-covered wall and began to climb. He had to see. Seconds later, he heard someone right behind him. It was Marin. She had that look of determination on her face.
I'm coming with you. I want to see, too.
Line remained where he was, staring at the gravestones.

Upon reaching the top, Marin and Kana looked down into the grid of stone walls. They formed square sections about twenty feet in length and width. The nearest sections were filled with gravestones. Nothing seemed unusual here. But something was happening in the more distant sections. They were filled with a milky liquid whose surface was bubbling, heaving, and undulating. Twice, Kana caught a glimpse of something humpbacked and fairly large breaking the surface. He could smell their fat and muscle.
What are they?
Food. That much was certain. And he couldn't put off eating. Not forever.

He glanced at Marin.
Does she know?
Sensing that he was looking at her, she turned to him.

She squinted and pointed to the distant sections of the grid. “Kana, what's in there?”

“I don't know,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even in order to conceal the lie. “It's hard to tell.”