Secret Worlds (568 page)

Oh, yes, there’s more, a lot more. I explain that Jan attacked our teacher, Nevada, and that he murdered Dr. Varik. I tell him we’re going to set up a memorial for the good doctor and that George and his people are invited. Then I ask him about the nature of Alex Dean’s prize. “The fact that it’s military,” I say, “is disturbing, given that Axiom was a
student
contest.”

“Yes.” George sighs deeply as he tugs on one of his shell buttons. “I regret making that, um, decision.” In his weighted pause, it’s obvious that he was bought off, not only by NanoPearl but also by the well-heeled faculty at Baronland South. I feel sorry for him. He desperately needs a stronger rudder. He’s so much weaker than I ever suspected Nevada of being. In contrast, Nevada is a mighty goddess who could hold up The Greening in her own bare hands. “Under the circumstances I’d like to suggest that you rethink the contest prize.”

Armonk, Blane and Thorn gasp collectively at my pluck. I’m shocked at it myself.

I’ve inspired a flow though, because Armonk says, “What’s all this war talk anyway? What is pre-war exactly, and the
ramp-up
?”

A look of astonished mortification comes over George as he jiggles his holo pen. “We’ve had skirmishes,” he confides. “In the northwest sectors with Land Dominion. Some in our sector feel that we need to arm ourselves. Get ready for the moment our bounty’s bigger than that in the north, because heaven knows, we were very unprepared before the Border Wars, unprepared for the wall they built, barring us from northern dominions.” George looks weary, even his suit looks droopy and sad. I’ll be an adult in a year, but I feel sorry for some of them, the ones who aren’t totally grownup after all, yet playing dangerous war games.

Armonk pipes up. “I like your ideas better.”

“Which ones?” George puts down his holo pen and leans forward.

“When you were so excited about all of the good things you were going to build in your city, all of the ways you would improve life down here.” Armonk stops. “If the contest funds were reallocated, some of them could be distributed to Nevada to fix up The Greening, and some sent to my home sector, Black Hills. There’s no water there. People are suffering. You said your family drilled for wells. You’d be such a hero to so many.”

“Young man, you make good sense,” George scribbles down more notes on his holo pad.

“Oh, one last thing,” I tell him. “I’d love to send word to my family back at the … the Fireseed compound in Chihuahua, that I’m okay. Will you please have a letter carried there for my mother?”

“The Fireseed compound, eh?” His disc-like eyes widen. I guess everyone knows about that cult. “Of course, glad to do it.” George says, and squeezes my hands. He seems relieved that this last request is simple, and doable.

By the time we leave his office, we’re bubbling with new ideas and hope. And George seems almost excited to have an expanded philanthropic role. He even assigns a trio of his armed guards to accompany us back.

We take one more hour at the Vegas beach to bask in the sun as the guards pace back and forth on the sand. Thorn splashes in the surf, Armonk does yoga and Blane’s eyes shimmer ever more emerald as I apply one more dose of healing gel to his injured thigh. After our ordeal we deserve a few extra moments to soak in solar minerals. I grin as I imagine the looks on Vesper and Jan’s faces when we return with an armed escort. But my glee fades to sadness when we discuss plans for Dr. Varik’s memorial.

We hold Dr. Varik’s memorial at our school, in the fields that we deck out in strands of Fireseed blossoms. The most spectacular ones, plucked from his body, we display in a vase by his casket. He’ll be cremated and join the soil to fertilize it. The field could use some help, as great swaths self-destructed during our turmoil out at NanoPearl.

Moori’s yurt family attends, as do many other dune dwellers that Dr. Varik attended to. Moori is healthy and pink-cheeked now, and her villagers are no longer suffering from uncured insect bites. The people spring to the memorial like lizards from their cave gardens. I’m amazed that Doctor Varik touched the lives of so many.

Earlier that morning, we took turns consoling Nevada, who was completely heartbroken by the doctor’s death. We cooked her a breakfast in bed and Bea and I helped braid her hair.

“What would I do without you kids?” she’d asked as she gazed at the bunch of us circling her bed.

“We’re not exactly kids,” Armonk reminded her.

“Young men and women.” She squeezed his hand.

“I think we’ve earned a few days off from lessons,” I said.

“We all have.” Nevada sighed and took a bite of yam loaf with sea-grape jam. “Delicious bread! The chef?”

Radius beamed. “That would be me.”

After the memorial George Axiom helps perk up Nevada by donating a generous sum to The Greening for renovation and state of the art student labs. Nevada is deeply grateful.

Jan, Stazzi and Vesper are in holding cells in Vegas-by-the-Sea awaiting the trials of the century. When they first saw Axiom’s guards marching with us the day we returned they were dumbfounded—at a loss for words. That is until they realized the guards were coming to escort them off to jail. Then, all manner of filthy curses broke loose from Vesper’s mouth. Jan added in a few choice ones too.

“Lousy druggie,” Vesper screeched at me, “I should have finished you off with the rest of your poison powder.”

“You’re the one who belongs in jail,” Jan snarled at me as the guards cuffed him. “You and your brother invaded our school and ruined everything. Criminals!”

No one bothered with an answer. Not even the guards who dragged them off. How do you reason with four scoops of crazy? All I know is that we breathed a major sigh of relief when that Axiom glider took off for points west.

The guards told us that the prison overlooks the great blue Pacific. Picture the view! Funny, I imagine that Vesper and Jan’s jails are cushy. Everything’s glitzy in Vegas-by-the-Sea, so why not the jails? I bet they get tasty fried fish dinners and fancy jail outfits with shell buttons. Perhaps Jan will have some kind of great human turnaround, but I won’t hold my breath.

I’ve gotten in touch with Caprice, the turbaned healer lady out there. Caprice wants to buy cartons of my elixirs for her clients. She wants to brainstorm with me to develop more outrageous cures and potions. Elixirs that make your wrinkles, depressions and love troubles disappear forever, and salves that enhance hearing and sight. Potions that could even make you fly. Sky’s the limit, and that suits me fine.

I’m going to save every tarnished coin and crinkled Dominion bill, until I collect enough to set up my wave blue house with sky blue curtains on the coast. It’ll be a sanctuary for friends and family, who I’m going to rescue from the cult, the second I figure out a foolproof plan.

First, I have to graduate. One more year—education before enterprise.

Today we’re reseeding the decimated field. We have brimming satchels of seeds that George helped buy. We reluctantly donned our burnsuits and masks because it’s a long, laborious job. We should really head out to different quadrants; it’d be so much faster that way. But we want to be together, after so much. Plus Armonk’s heading to Black Hills tomorrow. George will fly him there and help drill his people their wells. That part is exciting. If I dwell on Armonk leaving, though I’ll start bawling. We’ll never return to the cockeyed house for talks, never again cook together as we share our innermost secrets.

But I have Blane—man of fire and soul. It makes sense, after all, that I ended up with the one who was a brute, yet blossomed into a sensitive, smart man. After all, I started as a drug-addled tease, whose method of connection was manipulation and seduction. You start with the tools you have at hand, but you don’t have to end up using those same tools. We both transformed, not only our personalities, but through and through, as hybrids.

It’s funny, the world and what you can become in it if you try.

As if Blane can hear my thoughts—of course he can—he leans over and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. I stand on tiptoes and kiss his too.

We work in a line, reaching in the bags and tossing out the pretty red seeds like confetti.

“Don’t make yourself too scarce,” I tell Armonk. “You’ll have to visit me in Vegas-by-the-Sea next year. I want to introduce you to my best friends, Petal and Blossom.” He’s dark and tanned, but his blush peeks through.

“Your best friends?” Bea teases as she tosses a handful. “What about me?”

“Well, you’re already spoken for,
best
friend.”

“True,” she says, and with this, Radius raises her mask and gives her a kiss.

Thorn tugs on Armonk’s hand. He takes his dinosaur toy from his latchbag and hands it to Armonk.

“Really? You sure you want to give me this?” Thorn nods. Above his mask, Armonk ruffles Thorn’s hair. “Okay, fair is fair. Got something for you too, little man.” Armonk touches his shell necklace and lifts the twine over his head, lowers it over Thorn’s head and adjusts it. “It’s a tradition. This little man is now officially a big man.”

Thorn laughs, loudly and freely. I’ve never seen his face so joyful.

We work for another hour, and as we do, the surviving plants thrum in thanks. We’re filling in the charred patches and I can see the first baby fronds of Fireseed arc up from the ashes. My lord, this incredible plant grows fast.

The Reds flicker by our sides, and join the thrum.
Beauty, beauty, beauty!

There’s only an hour of sun left. The sky drifts to that magic place where violet and orange blend in candy swirls over the horizon line.

Out, out, out to the dunes
we say to each other without saying. We throw off our burnsuits and masks. Our feet carry us out of the field and to the crescents of sand.

Rise up, up, up, beauties, stretch out, out, out, beauties.

Yes, we are beautiful, and yes, when we raise our arm-branches skyward they course with sap and blood and every single astounding lesson we learned this year.

Catherine's novels span the range from futuristic fantasy to paranormal to contemporary. Her sci-fi thriller companion novels Fireseed One and Ruby's Fire are both indie award winners. Her paranormal - horror Dorianna won Best Horror Novel in the Kindle Hub awards. Her forthcoming contemporary YA, Heart in a Box will launch with Inkspell in Dec. 2015. Find her at
http://www.catherinestine.com
and on her blog
www.catherinestine.blogspot.com

See more of Catherine’s books:
http://www.amazon.com/Catherine-Stine/e/B001H9TXJC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

What kind of person robbed a hardware store?

That was Ari’s first thought as she lay on the cold dirty floor. Her second was to keep her eyes down and away from the armed robbers.

The linoleum floor felt cool under Ari’s cheek. Once white, it now had a filthy, grayish tint. She tried not to think about the last time it had been cleaned. Not that that was her big worry at the moment, anyway. She focused on the men running through the store, shouting orders and making demands.

Ari took a deep breath, exhaling hot air across the slick floor, producing a light sheen of fog. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. Ari spent her days working with the criminals of this city, and now, on her day off, she walked into the middle of an armed robbery at her neighborhood hardware store. It was only a matter of time before she became a victim to Glory City’s incredibly high crime rate. Again.

A noise nearby reminded her that she wasn’t alone in her position on the floor. She looked at the customer closest to her. His panicked eyes darted around, while he clutched a silver wrench in his hand. Great, she thought, this guy was going to get killed over a leaky pipe.

She’d been shopping in the tool aisle, looking for a Phillips head screwdriver, when the armed robbers burst through the front door, yelling and making demands. Like everyone else, she dropped to the floor, never looking back at the men, because if working with a full caseload of juvenile delinquents had taught her anything, it was to never be able to identify an attacker. Instead, she put her head down, allowing her short hair to obscure her face, and she listened to the robbers demand money from shoppers.

They roamed the aisles. Well, at least some of the aisles. Multiple voices had shouted when they’d entered the store and Ari had caught a glimpse of at least two guys. At the moment, though, it seemed clear there were more than that. She heard two across the store fighting with an employee while at least two others trolled through the aisles.

“Give me your wallet.”

“Here … take it …” said a trembling voice on the other side of the shelf.

Ari heard feet shuffling and raised voices near the counter. The cashier cried out, something about not having a key to the safe. A loud thwack echoed through the store. Ari flinched at the sound of metal against flesh.

As the struggle continued over the locked safe, the other men patrolled the rows of hardware, stopping at each customer asking for their money and jewelry. The escalation in violence kick-started Ari’s heart and she began to panic, too. As the men came closer to her row, she looked at the antique diamond ring on her right hand, and with a resolved ‘hell no’ under her breath, slipped the ring off her finger and shoved it in her mouth, pushing it into her cheek with her tongue.

She nudged her purse in front of her face. They could take her money—the little bit that was in there. She just wanted to get out of here alive. For five years Ari worked as a caseworker for Glory City. The job had taught her several things: always pay attention; never turn her back, not even for a minute; and always wear shoes she can run in. She flexed her toes in her black leather boots and cursed the blind spot she had from her position on the floor. Congratulations Ari, at least you have two of the three … 

Her self-congratulatory thoughts dissipated and her heartbeat quickened as the footsteps came closer to her row. She glanced up and caught sight of the stocking cap and shaggy hair hanging out from underneath. She knew that kid. Jace Watkins. He wasn’t on her caseload but he’d been in the office. He had a reputation and Ari could have sworn he’d been remanded over to the adult system and had been in prison. Obviously not, because he was definitely one of the robbers. He turned his head, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked.