Authors: Lynne Matson
RIVES
DAY 280, BREAKING DAWN
No shit we have a situation.
Skye had just waltzed up to the tree line without a torch. Small in size not spirit, she may as well have told the potential predator,
Hey, I’m breakfast. Hungry much?
I didn’t care that she didn’t listen. I cared that she was reckless. And it made me ballistic.
Dex’s eyes darted between Skye and me before settling on me.
“That bloke Archie? The one who showed up yesterday? He just left the City from the south end,” he said in a low voice. “He’s walking like he’s out for a stroll, but it feels dodgy. Want me to follow? Or let him go?”
“Is he carrying anything?”
“Nothing I could see.”
“I’ll go,” I said. Archie already knew I had his number. I handed Dex my torch, trying to focus on Archie, not Skye. Lines of pink and gold lanced the air. Archie had timed his departure with dawn.
“Want company?” Skye asked.
Not really. Absolutely.
“Up to you,” I said crisply.
I took off at a slow jog, going as fast as I could without making any sound. My gut said he’d go toward the Flower Field, taking the same flight path I’d seen the raiders take before.
I didn’t have to turn to know Skye had followed me.
She’s quiet
, I grudgingly admitted. I didn’t hear her as much as I sensed her. I gave the deadleaf plants a wide berth, hoping she’d do the same. She must’ve, because as I approached the field, she was still behind me.
I raised one hand and stopped, hoping this time she’d listen.
She did.
It took me three seconds to assess the situation. In the middle of the field, Archie strode quickly. He carried three satchels slung over his shoulders, each bulging with stolen supplies. In the distance, two boys were running toward him, smiling. A raider meet-up in the making.
Now I ran.
When I got within hearing range, I yelled, “Archie!”
He spun around, wide-eyed, then turned and sprinted away, moving impressively fast given his stolen load. He handed off a sack to each boy in seconds. As a team, they spun and took off at a full sprint. Archie paused long enough to flip me a slick salute and wide smile, then spun back and hauled ass.
I kicked it up a notch, sprinting all out.
Within minutes, I was gaining ground on the trio. To my surprise, Skye hung with me; she paced me well. The trio’s tight group spread out into a line, with Archie at the rear. They were still a solid fifty meters out.
“What’s the plan?” Skye asked, her voice breathless.
Get our stuff? Follow them? Find out where their stash is?
I was still framing the plan when Archie collapsed.
Swiftly, violently, as if grabbed by the ankle or tripped, he went down without a cry. The boys in the lead never looked back, never stopped running. Soon they were gone, consumed by color and brilliant rising light.
I slowed, watching the spot where Archie went down. Skye slowed with me. The two of us watched, waiting for movement.
Nothing.
Just the breeze, batting the flowers around in waves. Nothing dangerous there. Yet that meant nothing. Nil’s dangers often lurked out of sight.
“I’m going to see if Archie is okay. The safe thing to do would be to stay put.” I raised one eyebrow at Skye, willing her to sit tight.
I tracked diagonally toward the spot where I’d seen Archie collapse. Raider or not, if he was hurt, he needed help. But if he’d broken an ankle or leg or been bitten on his leg, he was royally screwed. Because winning a ticket home usually meant a sprint to the finish, and if you couldn’t run, you weren’t even a contender.
I reached the place where I’d seen him fall and frowned. Nobody in pain, nobody hurt.
No body.
Maybe I’d misjudged.
“Where’d he go?” Skye asked. She stood four meters back, her head shifting slowly as she scanned the field. Of course she’d followed. Her other motto was
No fear
. Or maybe it was
I’ll do what the hell I want.
Either way, it was a little hot, but more than anything else it was extraordinarily frustrating. She was rolling the dice with her number one motto:
Stay alive.
I’d had enough Nil funerals to last a lifetime.
“Rives?” Skye said. “Which way?”
“I don’t know.”
I took a few steps forward, scanning the flowers, and caught a color out of place: a few meters away, a slick of crimson smeared across a swath of summer yellow. I eased closer, every smart cell in my head screaming,
BACK THE HELL UP.
The blood on the flowers glistened, wet. More blood stained the ground.
Fresh blood, too much blood.
My stomach sank, my gut telling me that Archie’s hourglass had just run out. Still, I crept closer, ignoring the voice in my head, tracking until I saw drag marks. They pointed east, toward the meadow, away from the City.
The blood trail was gone.
So was Archie’s shot at leaving Nil.
“What took him?” Skye’s voice, a whisper on my left. Her arms were crossed like personal armor.
“No clue.” I’d been so focused on the raiders, I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the predator. And if I was completely honest with myself, I’d been slightly distracted by Skye. I needed to get my shit together, and fast.
“Should we go after him?”
“No point. Based on the blood trail, Archie’s lost too much blood for us to help him now. The trauma center here doesn’t even stock Band-Aids.” I sighed, wholly sick of Nil.
Archie may have been a thief, but the offense didn’t warrant death.
Skye hadn’t moved, her expression looking like she had all the numbers but couldn’t add them up. “So he’ll die?” Her eyes were locked on the blood trail. “On
Christmas
?”
“Birth, death. Arrivals, departures. All Nil cares about is balance, Skye. The day, or holiday, doesn’t matter to Nil. It all comes down to some invisible list, some master plan, with factors only Nil has access to, with scales only Nil can see.” My voice sounded tired, even to me. “But balance reigns, always. That’s Nil truth number four.”
Skye stared at the drag marks. “How can someone just disappear?”
Suddenly I had the thought that Skye would follow the tracks anyway, surprising the beast during its holiday feast, which wasn’t just stubborn; it was dangerous.
“Let’s go,” I said quickly.
To my relief, Skye listened without argument, her cheeks pale. Seeing Nil’s dark side had rattled her, denting her tough exterior. Not good. I wanted her sharp, not skittish.
Buck up, Skye,
I thought, glancing sideways at her.
First a dent, then a crack. Nil will force its way in, taking all you have to give.
She’d better regroup before Nil found a chink wide enough to blast Skye’s armor to dust. Then we’d all be screwed.
After taking a few steps, Skye spun and doubled back.
“Skye, don’t!”
Ignoring me, she went another meter, bent down, and when she stood she held up a satchel, the one Archie had carried. It was spattered with fresh blood. “I thought we might need this,” she said, striding back. Her tone cool, challenge gleamed in her eyes.
“Thanks,” I said.
And thank you for using your head
.
Maybe she wasn’t as rattled as I’d thought.
Then again, maybe she was. She was quiet as we walked through the flowers. I carried the satchel. Twice I caught her looking at it, staring at the bloodstains.
As we left the field, she glanced back, and I noticed a tiny streak of fresh blood on her face. It stood out like island paint, where her jaw had brushed the flowers when she’d bent to grab the bag. I reached out and immediately pulled my hand back. I didn’t have the right to touch her.
I barely knew her.
“Skye, you’ve got blood here.” I tapped my jaw with my finger.
Her eyes on mine, she reached up and touched her face.
“Closer to your chin,” I said softly, moving my finger down my jawline to explain.
Her motions tracked mine. Slowly, carefully, her fingers traced her cheek as she gently wiped away the blood, never looking away from me.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, like I’d sucked down deadleaf tea.
“Did I get it?” she whispered, her eyes barely blinking.
I nodded, my eyes on hers. I’d lost my ability to speak.
What the hell was that?
We started walking. Neither of us said another word.
Dex and Sy waited where we’d left them. “Raider meet-up, preplanned,” I told them succinctly. “Stole three bags, we got one back, thanks to Skye.”
Dropping into a squat, I gently dumped the contents of the recovered bag on the ground. Mangos, guava, and rocks spilled out.
“Rocks?” Skye frowned. “Why would anyone steal rocks?”
“No clue,” I said.
And why steal food when the groves offer plenty?
“About the rocks,” Sy said. He sounded hesitant. “Last night I saw Archie hanging around the Shack and the Food Hut. He looked like he was up to trouble. Like he might take stuff.” Sy flushed, not meeting my eyes. I recalled a time when Sy had been less than honest. My gut said his thoughts tracked mine.
He cleared his throat. “He left the Shack, his arms full of stuff, and when he went into the woods, I saw him stash two satchels at the edge of the Flower Field. Then when he went to bed—he crashed in Cho’s hut last night—I snuck back out and opened the satchels. He’d taken sandals—three pairs—shorts, a wooden machete, and food.” He shrugged. “I filled the bags with rocks and covered the rocks with food. I figured he could take the food.”
“Nice job,” I added, watching Sy’s posture straighten with pride. “Good thinking.”
“So he’s gone then? Archie?” Dex asked.
“Yup,” I answered. “But his friends might come back. They ran off with two bags.” I caught Dex’s eye. “Archie didn’t make it.”
“What does that mean?” Sy frowned.
“It means something grabbed him in the Flower Field. Something strong enough to take down all seventy kilos of him in one bite. And something strong enough to drag him away.”
Dex clenched his jaw. “Something with fur, no doubt.”
“I’d guess yes.”
“It just took him?” Sy looked both bewildered and pale. “Like he vanished?”
“He left a trail of blood,” Skye said quietly. She pointed at the satchel, which now lay blood side up.
“Bloody hell,” Dex swore.
“That’s Nil,” I said.
Sy started hyperventilating.
“Breathe,” I told him calmly. “Slow and steady. You’re gonna be okay, buddy. Just breathe.”
I gently led us toward the Shack, Sy breathing loudly, Dex and Skye completely silent.
By the time we got there, Sy had pulled himself together but he still looked ready to puke. I wondered if he’d eaten today.
Working as a quiet group, we inventoried the Shack to see what else was missing.
The answer? Not much.
From our best guess, the third satchel had held a dried water gourd and, of all things, a pillow. Nothing else was missing. Sure, a pillow took a little time to make—the grasses didn’t dry overnight—and yeah, the cloth to wrap them was precious, but it was a goddamn
pillow.
Archie’s middle had abruptly turned into his end,
over a pillow.
And that was Nil truth number six. Don’t waste time on stupid stuff. Sometimes it will come around to bite you in the ankle.
Or kill you.
SKYE
DAY 4, MID-MORNING
Christmas in the islands was not at all I what I’d expected.
I had the blue sky and gorgeous beaches, the freshest fish I could ask for, plenty of downtime, and if I was honest, I had hot guys in skimpy island shorts that made me shiver at weird and unexpected moments. And I had people getting mauled by invisible predators and disappearing into thin air.
Merry deadly Christmas.
If Nil didn’t like thieves, I was in big trouble.
I hoped that wasn’t Nil truth number one.
I watched Rives paddle out, diving under the breaking waves like a pro. I didn’t know how to surf, and right now I hoped I wouldn’t stay long enough to learn. Noon would show up soon, maybe bringing a gate, maybe not. But midnight would show up eventually, too. I wasn’t so na
ï
ve as to think the stationary gate appeared every night at midnight; that would be too easy. But if there was a pattern to the rolling gates, why couldn’t there be a pattern to the stationary gates, too? And I wouldn’t find it sitting here on the sand, watching Rives surf.
My frustration with Rives grew.
Archie’s freak death made me want to find that elusive outbound
right now
. To not waste another single second, let alone a day. Not waste time goofing off in the ocean when we had a chance at a City-wide escape, here on land.
Rives pulled up and sat on his board. He faced the horizon, his board drifting, his body still. He made no attempt to catch a wave or come back to land, and he sure wouldn’t find the stationary gate at sea.
Why didn’t Rives feel the same urgency to find it as I did?
And how long did he expect me to keep the stationary gate a secret?
No more
, I thought. He’d had a day. Twenty-four hours, which on Nil was a lifetime. Rives basically said so himself.
Births, deaths. Arrivals, departures.
It all could happen—and
did
happen—in one day.
Rives had had his chance. Instead, he chose to surf.
It was time to make a new plan.
My
plan, which did not involve piddling the day away on the water.
I spun around and nearly knocked Macy down.
“Hey,” she said, backing up with her hands raised, smiling. “Most people only move that fast around here when they see a gate.”
“Or a predator,” I said. I didn’t smile. Less than three hours past dawn and a boy was dead.
Macy’s face softened. “True. I’m so sorry for what happened to Archie. Sometimes there are no words, Skye. Sometimes life is cruel.”