Nil on Fire Page 15

But she was not needed, yet.

  For now, the island was content to wait, and to watch. It would act sparingly, until the pivotal moment arrived. Then it would fully engage; it would lean on the ones it needed most because there would be no other option left.

  It ached for the pain to come, a price to be paid by all. For the island saw the future, the end already written.

  If it could weep, it would have.

  *

  Calvin had never gone so long without a regimented workout or a home-cooked meal. Now he was hauling wood and hunting down food and sweating like he’d just finished a brutal two-a-day practice in an Alabama summer, only there was no hot shower to follow or cool AC to chillax in later. His workout routine was completely shot. He woke up each day stiff and sore, and the so-called mattresses were crap. He missed the weight room, his teammates, his family, and he definitely missed his queen-sized bed. Sleeping outside had gotten old on night one. He’d never been a camper, and this whole island nightmare confirmed what he already knew: roughing it sucked.

  “Watch your step,” Davey warned.

  Calvin froze, his arms full of wood. The City’s edge loomed twenty yards out, the firepit a few yards more. But here, on the periphery, there were trees and shrubs and pockets of foliage and rocks where things could hide. He hadn’t forgotten about the tiger.

  “The bright-green bush on your left,” Davey continued. “You do not want to touch it, trust me. Hafthor called these bushes deadleaf, and nothing with the word dead is good.”

  “Damn straight,” Calvin said. Now that he looked, more of the same bright-green bushes curved around the City like a living half wall, with open spots cropping up here and there like doorless entryways. Or exits. He and Davey had left the City via the beachside route, so this side looked foreign.

  “Deadleaf bushes.” Calvin stared at the glossy green leaves, as bright as a green-apple Jolly Rancher. “What kind of place is this where even the plants can kill you? Like tigers aren’t enough?”

  “Right?” Davey nodded. He took as much care as Calvin to avoid the leaves as he passed. “Dangerous beauty, everywhere you look.” He glanced ahead and gave a weird laugh. “Case in point,” he mumbled.

  By the firepit, Molly sat alone on the rocks. A small fire blazed, freshly made, no coals yet in sight. No Amara or Hafthor in sight, either. Calvin had to admit he was impressed. He had yet to be able to start a fire from scratch, but Molly? One quick session with Paulo on the fire bow and she’d started the fire, no problem. He felt certain she’d gotten this fire going too. Calvin secretly suspected Molly came from an outdoorsy family, because the girl had solid survival skills and no fear of the island or the outdoors.

  The closer they got to the firepit, the more Davey withdrew. It was like watching a bulb dim.

  Calvin set his pile of wood down and pain lanced across his palm.

  “Dammit,” he grumbled. Picking the largest black boulder of a set of three, he plopped down on a rock not far from the firepit.

  “What’s wrong?” Molly sat down beside him.

  “Splinter.” Calvin picked at his palm and winced.

  “A splinter?” Davey raised an eyebrow as he dropped his load of firewood beside Calvin’s. “Boo-bloody-hoo, big Cal. I’ve got a blister on my heel the size of Sydney. Not to mention a monster slice on my foot that won’t heal.” He glanced at the side of his foot, where bright-red droplets bloomed against an old scab. “Bloody thing stays bloody.”

  “Maybe you should be more careful where you step,” Molly said, her voice saccharine sweet.

  “I would’ve but I was too busy sweeping the rocks for animals with fangs.” Davey shrugged. “Priorities and all that.”

  Molly tilted her chin up slightly. “Didn’t see any, did you? Animals with fangs?”

  “Not lately. But that’s beside the point.” Sitting down on Calvin’s right, Davey rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen them up.

  “Is it?” Molly turned to Calvin, who was attempting to pry out the speck of wood with his massive fingers and failing miserably. “Here.” She offered her hand. “Let me take a look.”

  Calvin hesitated, then held out his hand.

  Molly took Calvin’s hand in hers, and with complete concentration, she worked the skin of his palm gently between her fingers. She didn’t have much in the way of fingernails, but she had enough. “There!” she said, a note of triumph in her voice. She held up a tiny sliver of wood to show Calvin, then flicked the offending splinter away.

  Brushing her hands on her thighs, she turned back to Davey. “I think it’s quite important. That you didn’t see any beasties with fangs. I’m starting to think the animals here don’t want to mess with us.”

  Davey mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes glued to Molly’s thighs.

  She leaned forward and waved her fingers in front of his face. “Davey, focus!”

  “I was.” A smile pulled at Davey’s mouth.

  Calvin laughed, then froze. Something brown had just crept past his ankle. Peering at the ground, he squinted hard, then relaxed. Damn. This place wreaked havoc on his nerves.

  “What?” Molly was peering at the ground. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s just a leaf. But I swore there was a spider.” Calvin peered more closely at the ground.

  “There are no spiders,” Molly said cheerfully. “Or bugs, even.”

  “Really?” Davey looked curious. “How do you know?”

  “Because I listened to Paulo when he told us about this place.” Molly regarded Davey with undisguised annoyance, a look Calvin had grown accustomed to seeing on Molly’s face whenever Davey was around. For his part, Davey seemed to enjoy baiting her. The weird thing was, when Davey wasn’t around Molly, he was actually cool. A regular guy, pulling his weight, like earlier today when he and Calvin collected wood and passed the time talking about their families and home life and this freaky place. Davey had been laid-back and cool, no chip on his shoulder—but not now, not around Molly. Whatever the story was involving these two, Calvin sensed it went back before this island, maybe way back. And it wasn’t done yet.

  Neither was Molly.

  She regarded Davey with an exasperated You’re an idiot look.

  “Paulo specifically said there were no bugs here. No bugs, no snakes.” Molly scowled at Davey. “And no spiders.”

  Calvin had missed the no-spider speech too, but he kept that to himself.

  “Right.” Davey nodded. “No spiders. But”—he looked thoughtful, his tone as calm as Molly’s—“there are tigers and hippos and an incredibly large lot of creatures that make spiders look tame.”

  It was Molly’s turn to shrug.

  Abruptly, Davey got up. “I’m going to see if Paulo’s around yet. His mysterious excursion is quite the time suck.”

  He strode southeast, the direction Paulo had gone, toward the field full of flowers with the mountain in the background. Calvin wondered exactly how far he’d go.

  When he glanced at Molly, she was watching Davey’s back too.

  “So what’s the deal with you two?” Calvin asked.

  “There is no deal,” Molly said succinctly, pulling her eyes away from Davey and straightening her skirt. “There’s just me, and then there’s Davey. No deal.”

  “Uh-uh.” Calvin shook his head at Molly. “You two have a history, big-time. I don’t know what it’s all about, but there is definitely a deal.”

  Molly sighed. She picked up a small black pebble and rolled it between her fingers as she spoke. “I grew up with Davey,” she admitted. “I’ve known him forever. My older brother, JT, is Davey’s best friend. Davey’s always been around. Then, a few months ago Davey started dating my best friend, Lauren. And the night before I—we,” she quickly amended, “landed here, I caught him with another girl.” Her eyes glided back to Davey’s retreating figure and she fell silent.

  “And?” Calvin prompted.

  “That’s it.” Molly shifted her shoulders dismissively.
She turned away from Davey but not before Calvin saw the hurt flash through her eyes.

  “Huh.” Calvin thumbed his palm where the splinter had been. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think what?” Molly frowned.

  “I don’t think that’s it. But hey”—Calvin held up his hands—“I’m not saying I want to know. I’m just saying there’s more to it, that’s all.”

  Propping her chin in her hands, Molly glanced back at Davey. He stood, staring down toward the path Paulo had taken. “Maybe so.” She cocked her head at Calvin. “But maybe not. I don’t know.” Molly closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, not here anyway.”

  “I’m not sure here is any different,” Calvin spoke slowly. “Maybe it matters more here, I don’t know. Damn.” He rubbed both of his hands over his head. “I’m just saying it doesn’t matter any less. You get me?”

  Molly smiled. “I get you.”

  A quiet moment passed as both watched Davey in the distance. He seemed busy watching something else.

  “So back home, you camp a lot?” Calvin asked Molly conversationally.

  “Never.”

  His jaw dropped. “For real? You use that fire bow like a pro. Plus, you don’t seem a damn bit afraid of this place. Not the tigers, not the bugs. Not the dark. Nothing.”

  Molly smiled at Calvin. “Remember I come from Oz, a place with the most dangerous animals in the world. Deadly snails, spiders that would scare Freddy Krueger, and more venomous snakes than anywhere else, not to mention heaps of sharks and crocs and possibly killer koalas.” She grinned. “I’m used to shaking out my boots before I put them on. But here? No snakes, no spiders, and the other animals are too big to hide in my boots, which I actually find reassuring. But…” Her smile faded. “I am afraid of this place, not because of the animals. I’m afraid of whatever brought us here, afraid of what we can’t see.”

  Molly glanced toward the beach. Through the branches gently swaying in the breeze, bright-blue water glittered with bits of white and light. “I don’t think anything here is exactly what it seems.”

  Suddenly Calvin found himself wishing for a spider. At least then he’d know what he was up against. Because Molly’s words rang true. Something about this place gave him the creeps. Put his nerves on edge, and made him jumpy.

  Time felt heavy here, expectant, like the calm before a storm.

  As far as Calvin was concerned, tomorrow’s noon couldn’t come soon enough.

  *

  Trapped in chains not of its own making, the island simply watched.

  And listened.

  And learned.

  The one called Calvin was wiser than he knew. Perhaps his fear would not best him after all. Then again, perhaps it would.

  The island hoped for the former, and simply hoped.

  Indeed, tomorrow’s noon could not come soon enough.

  CHAPTER

  31

  SKYE

  94 DAYS UNTIL THE AUTUMNAL EQUINOX

  I glanced at Paulo as we walked, my old friend who, in many ways, was like a new friend. I had a million questions for him, but I didn’t press.

  I’d learned quite a bit during my first stay here.

  I wondered what Paulo had learned. After all, he’d never left. He had the lean muscles and long hair and quiet confidence to show for it, not to mention a leg laced with healed scars, hard proof of time served. He was a Nil survivor and Nil veteran—the oldest veteran on the island, a seniority marked not by age but days spent.

  Paulo didn’t speak either. We walked in comfortable silence. As we left South Beach behind, Rives dropped back to chat with Thad.

  Soon the Arches rose ahead, stunning and majestic. Massive rock formations, carved by the hands of invisible giants or Mother Nature herself, the Arches stretched toward the sky, curved and chunky and beautifully hollow. The black rock arches glistened with water at the base and winked matte black at the top, bathed in light from above.

  Paulo broke the silence. “We took this route because I wanted to show you something at the Arches. It won’t take long.”

  “You’re kidding.” Rives’s incredulous voice came from slightly behind us; I hadn’t heard him approach. “You said yourself we should get back by dark, and I think I’ve had enough Nil surprises for one day. Can’t it wait?”

  “I don’t think it should. This place”—Paulo waved a hand—“is unpredictable. It could be gone tomorrow. Destroyed, altered. It’s not a chance I want to take. It’s nothing scary, I promise. But”—his eyes found me—“Skye needs to see it.”

  “Rives, it is the longest day of the year.” I smiled. “We’ve got plenty of daylight left to see whatever this is.”

  Rives’s tight expression didn’t shift. His eyes remained on Paulo. “Exactly what is it that Skye needs to see?”

  “Just wait,” Paulo said, his tone encouraging. “See what unfolds.”

  His calm confidence reminded me slightly of Maaka, but where Maaka always spoke like a condescending Confucius, Paulo was kind, and patient. But he didn’t elaborate on this mysterious detour.

  Just wait, he’d said.

  As much as it killed me, I did. I kept my questions to myself, wondering what the Arches could hold that I needed to see. And why me? Why single me out?

  “This way,” Paulo said. Following his lead, I climbed up, past the Man in the Maze. We walked to the smallest of the rock arches, the one farthest from the water’s edge. Rives paused, waiting for the others to catch up, but his eyes stayed on me.

  Behind the last arch, Paulo knelt. “Look.” He pointed to the ground near the arch’s base. A flat rock about the size of a dinner plate nestled against the base. Words graced the rock face, roughly cut into the surface.

  Search.

  Look inside.

  Below the words, two smaller letters read S. B. All had a similar slant, as if carved by the same hand.

  “Did you carve these words?” A powerful hope filled Paulo’s eyes.

  Shaking my head, I knelt beside him. With one finger, I traced the letters S. B. “These are my initials,” I said, “and my uncle’s.” I glanced at Paulo. “Scott Bracken, the same uncle who met your aunt Rika.”

  He exhaled, relaxing. “I was right to bring you here today,” he said with certainty. “I knew this was a clue. I’d thought perhaps you left it for me, but now I know your uncle left it for you.”

  How could there be a twenty-year-old clue? I wondered.

  You have a twenty-year-old journal, my mind offered helpfully.

  I read aloud. “‘Look inside’? What does that even mean? I know they searched for gates, like us. But what does ‘Look inside’ mean? Look inside what? Ourselves? This rock?”

  The rock didn’t budge.

  “I don’t know,” Paulo admitted. He regarded me carefully. “I didn’t know you shared the same initials as your uncle, the one who knew my aunt. The one who told him about his destiny.”

  Your destiny wraps the island from beginning to end, Paulo’s aunt had told my uncle.

  But you didn’t end it, my guilty conscience said. You failed.

  Then, like the whisper of the wind, a gentle thought brushed the others away.

  It is not over yet.

  Rives stood near the Man in the Maze, his profile to me, deep in conversation with Thad. Neither boy looked my way.

  I closed my eyes, hearing the echo of a thought that wasn’t mine. Nil was everywhere: my past, my present, and maybe even still in my head. Or was that thought mine after all, whispered by my conscience? I couldn’t sort it all out.

  “Skye?”

  I glanced up at Paulo.

  “In the weeks after you left, I sat here a lot, alone, thinking. The day I found this carving, I was specifically thinking of you. It’s like this carving was here, but I didn’t see it right away. Granted, the carving is shallow, and dirt had blurred the letters, but still. I didn’t see these letters until I was thinking about you. And now you’re here. Again. It feels
—weird. Like a coincidence but not really.”

  There are no coincidences on Nil. Johan’s words haunted me.

  The letters, my initials. My failure and my return.

  “What did we miss?” I asked Paulo, desperate for understanding. “We failed, Paulo. The island wanted to die; I think it still does. It’s why I’m here, why I’m back. I feel it. So what didn’t we do last time? What didn’t we see?”

  “Skye, I’ve rewound that last day a million times, and I still have no answer. And since then? The island is—” He paused. “Different. Crueler. It’s the best word I can think of. More vicious, more volatile. I’ll see a rabbit one day, only to have a gate take it away before I can snare it. Then a camel falls out of the next gate, only to be eaten by a lion, and I don’t even eat camels so it’s like a warning: You’re next.” He shook his head. “There’ve been two earthquakes since you left. The first not so bad, but the second one opened steam vents on Mount Nil. The island is restless. I constantly feel a restlessness, and it isn’t mine.”

  “Like the exhaustion wasn’t mine,” I said. Understanding crept close, then drifted away before I could grasp it.

  “Looks like you found a little island graffiti.” Rives’s hands rested gently on my bare shoulders. “Your uncle’s?”

  “I think so.” I stared at the rock, at the words etched in stone, letters looking back at me.

  Search.

  Look inside.

  “He wrote in his journal that he heard the island telling him to search,” I said slowly. Was my uncle to search, or was this word left for me? Was it a mission left for someone else, for anyone else? Was there a difference, and did it matter?

  Did the island tell him to leave this mark?

  I spun around, moving so fast I startled Rives. “The island told my uncle to search,” I said. “But he didn’t know what he was supposed to search for. Gates? Answers? Understanding? People?” A familiar sense of frustration washed through me. “We’re back to square one, Rives. Sure, we know how to leave. We’ve got three months until our gate opens. But this time, we need to do more while we’re here. We have to figure out how to end Nil. Or at least destroy all the gates.” My voice reflected the urgent determination I felt.