Nil Unlocked (22 page)

Two boys, very different. One strong, one weak. But both with secrets. Personal secrets, island secrets.

Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

Two visuals flashed, a Nil study in contrast: Rives, exiting the sea, muscular and threatening, a furious sea god, dripping water and power, and Paulo, sitting on a rock, bony shoulders hunched, stinking to high heaven, already broken.

Nope. Very different.
And they were the first two people I’d officially met here.

Was Nil always about extremes?

“Skye?” Jillian asked.

“Yes?” Apparently I’d zoned out.

“Are you hungry or would you rather get clothes first?”

“You pick. I’m good either way.”

An hour later, I’d decided Jillian was a fabulous one-person Nil welcome committee. So far she’d shown me the Map Wall, where she’d pointed out the locations of the labyrinth carvings and explained Charley’s storm theory for gates; the Food Hut, where she’d given me a mango, a handful of nuts, and explained the basic City meals; and the Shack, where she’d outfitted me in City wear. Now I wore an off-white wrap skirt and chest wrap. Wrapping was apparently the Nil way of life: When in doubt, wrap it. Wrap skirts, chest wraps, fish wraps, shrimp wraps. Fortunately, I could wrap my skirt around me twice. It wasn’t going to fall off, and thanks to the double wrap, it wasn’t even see-through. All in all, the soft island cloth won hands-down over my homemade leaf-kini. After leaving the Shack, I almost felt normal.

Then we went down to the beach, and the next round of introductions reminded me I was anything but normal. New faces and names, most with questions or comments about my uncle. Word had spread fast.

A boy with straight, dark hair and chiseled cheekbones walked up first.

“Michael.” Quick nod, no smile. Hard jaw. “Sixty-one days.”

“Leila.” Big brown eyes, thick ponytail. A single white shell hung from her wrist. She smiled. “Fifty days. Welcome to Nil, Skye, not that it sounds like you need it.” Her smile took the sting from her words.

“Hi Skye! I’m Macy.” Huge grin, warm handshake. Gorgeous skin I’d die for. I winced inwardly at my mental word choice. This wasn’t the place to flippantly toss around death wishes. “It’s gonna be okay, Skye,” Macy said, squeezing my hand. “I’ve been here long enough to know. Your uncle made it, and so will you. It’s in your blood. Oh, and you’ll be bunking with me, Brittney, and Kiera if that’s all right with you.”

I nodded. It was hard to disagree with Macy; she was just so—
buoyant
.

A girl stepped up. Wiry and fair, big blue eyes and a chipped front tooth. “Your uncle came here, too? That is
cray-cray
. I’m Brittney. I’ve been here for three weeks already. The sunrises are the prettiest things you’ve ever seen.” More talking, Texas twang. She sounded giddy, a little
cray-cray
herself.

Then a boy with skin as dark as a Nil night and a smile as bright as the Nil sun walked up. “Skye, welcome to paradise, island-nightmare style. You’re like Nil royalty. I’m Ahmad, by the way. Day One Hundred One.” I had to tilt my head back to look up at him; it reminded me of when I’d met Charley, only Ahmad made Charley look short. He wore a loincloth like Dex.

“Kiera,” another girl said. Proud posture, amazing hair. If anyone was royalty, it was Kiera. The white flower tucked behind one ear seemed both perfect and effortless; I felt underdressed even though our outfits were an exact match. “So Rives found you?” Unlike Macy’s, her brown eyes reminded me of the Cove. Chilly.

“Actually, I found him. I ran into him up on the beach north of the Cove.”

For some reason, Kiera looked disappointed.

More names, more introductions; it was a frenzy of
new
. Another trio showed up, emerging from the south. Their arrival was met by screams and hugs and blissfully diverted all the attention from me.

I slipped away to the Wall. I needed a minute by myself. I’d gone from zero to sixty in a few hours flat. As an only child, I was used to plenty of alone time. I usually spent my afternoons reading or sketching, or when I was at Dad’s, training. On weekends during the year I’d hang out with Tish, but then every summer I’d basically disappear. Summers were spent with my dad, going to crazy places, chasing crazy things.

Like Nil.

Where I was right now.

I ran my fingers over the wood. The Wall of Names stood near the master map. I’d seen it earlier with Jillian but hadn’t stopped. Now I strolled alongside it, going back in time, searching for names I knew. I passed Charley and Thad; both had check marks beside their names. I passed Rives and Macy and Jillian and Dex, all still here, all with blank spaces. Then a stretch of names that meant nothing. The only name that stood out was Oliver. I’d dated a guy named Oliver last year, but he was forgettable. Sweet but dull. Once I’d dared him to eat a cricket on a whim after my dad had sent me a box of them along with an article called the
TOP TEN EDIBLE INSECTS WITH HIGH PROTEIN LEVELS
and Oliver had totally freaked out. He’d freaked even more when I ate one. Even his dimples couldn’t save our sad relationship.

I wondered how Oliver would’ve fared on Nil. Probably not so well.

Then I came to a name that stopped me cold.

Hui.

He had a cross.

I slowed, finding Jenny. She had a check. Then Karl, with his check. Keifer, with a cross, like Ryla. George with a check, like John and Anne.

And then Scott, with no mark at all.

I ran my fingers over the five letters, overwhelmed by a rush of emotion and connection to my uncle. We weren’t just connected by blood anymore; we were connected by Nil. The Wall blurred. I breathed deeply, pulling myself together and blinking back tears, because unless I wanted to rip off my chest wrap—which was
so
not going to happen—I had nothing to use to wipe my eyes.

I still wore my sling; it made me feel safe. Tucked inside rested my one tool: my honed rock. I angled it against the Wall, light glinting off the black rock, and slowly carved a check for my uncle. I stepped back to admire my handiwork.

“Looks good,” a deep voice said from behind me.

I turned and found myself inches from Rives’s chest. His
bare
chest. Automatically, I stepped back and my head bumped the Wall.

“Sorry.” Rives’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” His slight grin said
I totally meant to startle you.
Annoyed that he had, I stepped away from the Wall, toward Rives, intending to force him to move, but he had already shifted back to give me space, his eyes drifting to the Wall.

“Your uncle?” he asked, pointing. Uncle Scott’s new check stood out against the grayed wood.

I nodded. “His name was Scott.” Voicing his name, I fought a surge of emotion. My connection to a dead man had never been stronger.

I tapped Karl’s name. “Karl was the Leader when my uncle got here. He was a good guy. There were other good people, too,” I said, running my hand over Jenny’s name, reliving memories that weren’t mine. “All here, on this Wall of Names.”

“We call it the Naming Wall now, but the Wall of Names makes more sense. And there are good people still here, stuck in this deadly paradise. They all deserve to get home.”

“But that’s only part of it.” I faced Rives, the unexpected emotion of carving my uncle’s check leaving me raw and vulnerable and hurting and abruptly
angry
; I was furious with an invisible entity that was everywhere. “My uncle caught a gate alone on the beach. No one saw him leave. And do you know what my uncle’s first thought was when he got back?” I thought of the last journal page full of words—bitter words, pressed so hard into the paper that it felt like braille. “That he never got to say good-bye.”

“I’m sorry.” Rives’s eyes reflected his words.

“Me too.” I traced Jenny’s name. “I think he tried to find Jenny after he got back. He met her here, and from his journal, they were close. Maybe even in love. Maybe like Charley and Thad; I don’t know. I do know she was from Australia, and I know that about nine months after he got back from Nil, he went there. I can’t shake the feeling he was searching for her. I don’t know if he found her before he died. I’ll never know.”
Because he lost his fear. Was he base jumping to feel fear, or to feel alive? I’ll never know that, either. All I know is that this place touched him, and changed him. And maybe in the end, it killed him.

My fingers fell away from Jenny’s name.

“I get Nil now,” I said softly. “I know I’ve only been here three days, but I get it. The pressure of time, the waiting. The beauty and the downtime that lull you into forgetting that your clock is ticking. The not knowing. The hope, and the desperation. The camaraderie. The loss.” I thought of Charley, her face etched in pain.

“And I get that Nil’s reach goes beyond this island. Some people never escape it, even after they get home.” I found Rives’s eyes with mine, the residual pain of my uncle’s Nil turning to fire in my belly. “Rives, we have to stop this. To figure out a way to end it once and for all. And finding that stationary gate is the first step.”

CHAPTER

31

RIVES

DAY 279, ALMOST DUSK

Skye was fire.

Skye was ice.

She was all the extremes of Nil wrapped in one, a mysterious package Nil didn’t count on.

Just when I thought I had her number, she changed it. A tough-as-nails, sheet-metal exterior that couldn’t dent—until it did.

And when I looked at her now, I saw fury beneath the calm, as fiery as the lava flowing down the back of Mount Nil. Her steel-flecked eyes barely held it in check.

“You’re right,” I said, my eyes on hers. “You’ve only been here three days, but you do get Nil. Between your uncle, Charley, and now checking out Nil for yourself, you’ve got the whole picture: past, present, and future.” I paused. “I’m all for ending this merry-go-round if we can, and I agree that finding that gate is crucial. But—” I stopped, mentally working through my personal Nil fixation, playing Tetris with my clues.

“Wait,” Skye said. “No ‘buts.’ Nothing good ever follows the word
but
, at least not here.”

“Did you just quote Dex?” I fought a laugh.

“At least you’re paying attention.” She almost smiled.

“Always.” I paused. “The stationary gate is huge, no doubt. But”— I emphasized this word, making Skye raise her eyebrows—“it’s not the starting place. We need to find Paulo and Maaka first. They have answers that would take us weeks or months to find, and we don’t have that kind of time. I think we start with them, and then hunt the gate.”

Skye looked unconvinced. “Why don’t we go back to the mountain and see what we find? We should go sooner rather than later, while the memory is still fresh in my head. I think I can find the location, or at least get us close. Maybe we do a twenty-four-hour stakeout where I think the gate flashed, to see if it flashes again at noon or midnight?”

“A stakeout?” I fought a laugh, knowing Skye would be offended, but the image struck me as funny. “You do those often?”

Her cheeks reddened but her steely eyes flashed. “Occasionally. When needed.”

Nodding, I considered her idea. The meadow was a deathtrap, more predators than gates, and I didn’t care to risk it for nothing. “I didn’t think you remembered exactly where it flashed.”

“I may not know
exactly
where I woke, but I can get us close. Close enough. I wouldn’t ask you to go there if I didn’t think I could find it.” Her tone had a bite.

I believed her—I believed that
she
believed she could find it—but I wasn’t convinced.

“I’ve got a question.” Gently, I grabbed her wrist and turned it over. Black faded letters were still visible, scrawled facing her. “What does
TFPL
mean?”

“Think first, panic later.” Her cheeks flushed again, barely.

“Is that your motto?” I teased.

“No. It’s my dad’s.”

“He seems tough,” I said, holding her gaze.

“You have no idea.” Looking away, Skye rubbed her TFPL tattoo.

“So what’s yours?” I asked.

“My what?” She looked back and frowned.

“Your motto.”

Five seconds passed. “I have a few,” Skye said. “‘Stay alive. Don’t mess with hippos. Let sleeping rhinos be.’” She grinned, then immediately turned serious. “But generally, my new motto is ‘Think first, act later.’”

Of course Skye had ditched the panic. It was tough to picture cool Skye in panic mode. But Nil had a way of pushing people to their edge—and beyond.
And there’s the but
, I thought.

“What’s yours?” she asked.

“My what?”

“Your motto.”

“I have a few.” I smiled. “‘Stay alive. Avoid the mudflats. Leave sleeping leopards alone.’ But generally my motto is ‘Notice what others ignore.’”

Skye studied me, her eyes sharp and clear like that first moment we’d met, like it was her motto too. She was always thinking, always
looking
. I wondered if she was even aware of it. And I wondered what she saw.

“That’s a good motto,” she said finally. “The tricky part would be knowing exactly what others have overlooked, right?”

“That’s why I make it a point to notice everything,” I said. Then I winked. “At least I do my best.”

“That’s all any of us can do,” she said. “Especially here, where each day is truly a new day, in every sense of the word.”

“Well said, rookie-who’s-not-really-a-rookie. You just nailed Nil truth number seven.”

“How many Nil truths are there?” she asked.

I grinned. “How much time do you have?” Her question, turned back at her.

She rewarded me with a slight smile. “Three hundred sixty-two days.”

My grin faltered.

A hell of a lot more time than me.

“And that’s Nil truth number two,” I said quietly. “You’re officially on the clock. Tick-tock.”

Skye had Nil’s number, no doubt about it.
Maybe she should be my Second.