Nil Unlocked Read online

  Part extended vacation, part work trip for my dad, it was the three of us, as always. Dad was researching a Thai crime ring, a massive operation with international ramifications and disturbing political ties, or so he’d said. The engine’s drone faded, and my dad had seized the vacuum of that moment. Look around, he’d counseled as the plane taxied to a stop. Watch the people. Watch the cues. And watch your back. Never forget you’re a foreigner. Never take your security for granted. Inattentiveness means missed chances and lost opportunities. But, worse, it puts you at risk. Then his eyes had softened. Got it, son?

  Sure, Dad, I’d said.

  I wondered if he’d known then I was all talk.

  The next day, I’d gone to Freedom Beach to take pictures. I was checking out some girls chilling on the sand, watching their butts and not my own. A gate caught me from behind; I never saw it coming.

  Got it now, Dad, I thought grimly.

  On Nil, inattentiveness could get you killed.

  I shifted my full focus to my surroundings, to the general postquake status. Clear sky, solid ground. No movement.

  A kilometer away, a black rhino marked the intersection of the red and black flows, his head swung toward me. Sweeping wide, I gave him all the space he needed, opting for the “I won’t mess with you if you don’t mess with me” approach.

  The rhino didn’t budge.

  Win for me, but the closer I got to the City, the more uneasy I grew. No people, no animals. No movement at all. Enough nothing to put me on edge.

  Stillness on Nil was like the calm before the storm; stillness here felt weighted.

  Every muscle tensed, the island’s weight pressing on me.

  Then I saw it: two skinny boys, dressed in City garb, sprinting barefoot through the Flower Field, running away from the City, carting nets. Our nets. The ones Miya just finished last week.

  “Hey,” I shouted, taking off in their direction. “Stop!”

  Of course the boys didn’t stop; they didn’t even turn. And then they were gone, lost in ribbons of color.

  I’d never gotten close.

  My concern for the City jacked up to panic level.

  I spun back around and stopped. A boy built like a man stood at the edge of the field. His skin matched mine, only his upper left arm and shoulder were laced with lines and swirls of crisp black ink. He wore a ring of flowers around his neck and a brown loincloth low on his waist. A homemade spear in his hand flowed like a deadly extension of him. Facing the field, he studied the raiders’ retreat.

  Friend or foe?

  Like he’d sensed my thoughts, our eyes met, and I’d have sworn his held pity. He turned away first. Away from the City, away from the field, moving toward the southern tip. And then he disappeared into the island like he belonged.

  My grip on Nil wavered in the wake of today’s noon.

  Charley always joked that I was Thad’s wingman, but he’d also been mine, and his absence felt like a hole in the fabric of the island itself. Possibly a tear in the fabric of me. I’d never realized how heavily I relied on Thad’s guidance, or his friendship. Nil was different now. More dangerous, with more variables, and fewer people to lean on to work it all out. Now I had confirmed raiders, a loner, a new Second to appoint, and a City to hold together in the quake’s aftermath.

  At least I had brought good news back.

  The deadleaf plants at the City’s edge greeted me first, their bright green leaves broadcasting danger. Green usually meant go, but with these plants it meant death. One plant was trampled, its cracked leaves limp and weeping. I noticed it even as I avoided it, my dad’s training instinctual. Pay attention, Rives. Notice what others ignore. It’s what made him an Emmy-nominated journalist, and it’s what made me notice the small things. The odd things, the things out of place—even people. People in the wrong place at the right time, people with tells, tics giving away truths.

  Eyes wide open, Thad used to say. I’d smile, even as I’d think, Always.

  Inside the perimeter, the City was organized chaos. I slowed, relieved to find that no one seemed hurt and all huts were intact. The chicken coop was already reinforced with fresh hemp twine and new logs. By my count only one chicken was lost. The goats roamed loose. One currently nosed around the firepit’s edge, scavenging the last of the fish wraps.

  Thank God for Dex.

  He stood on a black boulder directing salvage teams, his tattoos adding an air of tribal authority to his gestures. Ink was the one accessory that made it to Nil, and Dex’s was impressive. Skulls and words paired with flaming crosses and bloody daggers wove together across his torso like a painted shirt, one jacked with color.

  Now that I’d seen the kid by the Flower Field, Dex’s tats screamed hard-core rocker rather than tribal statesman. To Dex’s credit, he held the City’s attention like a lead act.

  Seeing me, he raised his hand, his expression hopeful.

  “He made it.” I gave a double thumbs-up. “Thad’s gone.”

  Jason covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. My heart twisted. He’d seen more death than any fourteen-year-old should ever see. Miya gently rested her small hand on his shoulder, as if passing on her quiet strength to him. As I watched her, my heart twisted again, for a different reason.

  Because of a different person.

  Around Jason, people hooted; Ahmad hugged Jillian; Julio threw his fist in the air as Johan crossed himself, smiling. Macy beamed. Zane, Michael, and a few others clapped, almost politely. They’d barely known Thad. A dark-haired girl with a purple flower tucked behind one ear stood quietly, shoulders back, chin lifted, no clapping. Sy looked relieved.

  Dex hopped down and strode over. “Where’s Charley?”

  “Gone,” I said. “Nil sent a triple. Charley caught a ride home, too.”

  Dex’s eyes widened. “A triple? And both Thad and Charley made it? Blimey. Did you go for the third?”

  “Never had the chance. Thad missed the first one, so they took the next two.” I smiled. “Not my noon, bro.” I glanced toward the Flower Field. “Or the City’s. I just saw two raiders sprinting east, and they were hauling our nets.”

  Dex groaned. “Tell me they weren’t the new cast nets?”

  “Yup.”

  “Bloody bastards,” Dex fumed. “We need those nets.” He ran a hand through his half-bleached hair, frustration written all over his face.

  “We’ll need to set up watch on the Shack again.” I sighed. “We can’t afford to lose supplies to raiders.”

  “Maybe.” Dex looked thoughtful. “But the nets weren’t at the Shack. They were hanging by the firepit to dry.” He mumbled a string of expletives, all starting with the word bloody.

  By the firepit. Near the trampled deadleaf bush.

  I dropped my gear and took off at a full sprint, retracing my steps to the Flower Field, but this time I went farther. This time I went into the field, starting at the point closest to the City, tracking the trail of crushed flowers.

  Sloppy, I thought. But helpful.

  “What is it?” Jason asked. He’d followed me soundlessly. His innate stealth put the raiders’ clumsiness to shame.

  I didn’t answer until I saw what I was looking for: a large brown net, abandoned in the field, its weight flattening a swath of purple. “Just recovering stolen goods. Sit tight.”

  I tossed it over my shoulder, and as rocks pressed into my back, I smiled. Small rocks weighted the net’s bottom, added kilos that made the difference. The breeze rustled the flowers, whispering without words.

  Sensing company, I stilled.

  I turned around slowly, fully expecting to see the inked boy’s eyes on me. But when I surveyed the field, a lone zebra stared back. Head held high, the zebra stood motionless, ears pricked, its monochromatic stripes a sharp contrast to the brilliant colors of the field. Somehow I knew it was seconds away from being spooked—by us.

  We were the foe.

  No one else was around.

  I turned aw
ay. The zebra deserved peace, especially after today’s quake.

  “How’d you know they dropped it?” Jason pointed to the net when I drew close.

  “They didn’t drop it; they left it. Too heavy to carry with a numb foot. Or maybe they panicked when they lost feeling in their feet and ditched it to get away faster. Either way, we got one back.”

  I pointed out the trampled deadleaf plant as we walked back. “Our savior.”

  Jason laughed. “Nasty plants. I like ’em.” He paused. “Thad’s idea worked.”

  I nodded, abruptly choked up.

  When Dex saw us, he pointed to the net and grinned. “Pulled out a bit of island magic, did you, Rives?” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Well done, mate.”

  I returned his grin. “Just a hunch that panned out.”

  “Right,” he said, watching me shrug off the net. “Well, it was a bloody good one.” Dex gestured for the net and hefted it over his shoulder, and, with a comical salute, he stepped away. Then he turned back, swallowing hard. “One more thing. I didn’t carve for Thad, or Charley. I thought you should be the bloke to do it.”

  The knot in my throat was back. “I’d be honored.” I turned to Jason, fighting to sound chill. “Why don’t you carve for Thad, and I’ll carve for Charley. Sound good?”

  Jason broke into a broad smile, telling me I’d made the right call. “Sounds good.”

  “Right, then.” Dex looked toward the island’s interior. “Well, I’m off.” But he didn’t move.

  “Anything else, D?” I asked.

  He cocked his head at me. “You didn’t spot any leopards out there, did you, Rives? Skulking about the island and such?”

  Now I grinned easily. “No leopards, skulking or otherwise. But Nil is now home to a pair of lions and one very ugly hyena. Oh, and a black rhino. Not sure if he’s new, though.”

  “Fantastic,” Dex said. “Bloody cats. I may have to change my stance on declawing. My mum was much opposed, but I’m reconsidering in the nature of survival.”

  I thought of Bart, found with claw marks raked down his back, Nil karma at its best—or worst. “I hear you, bro. But better to just avoid all Nil kitties, especially the big ones.” I paused. “Anyway, good news. The grizzly’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Jason asked. “Did the lions get him? Or did he take a gate?”

  “Neither. The island ate him for lunch.”

  “Well, that’s not creepy much.” Dex paled slightly. “Bears are Nil’s lunch? Then what are we?”

  “Dinner?” Jason offered.

  I laughed. “Entertainment. But at least that gives us a better chance to make it, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Dex said with feeling. “And better here in the City than out there with the leopards.” For an instant, I saw a flash of the shell-shocked boy I’d met on his Day One. But when he leveled his clear eyes on me, he looked every inch my Second. “It’s bloody good to have you back, Rives.” With a quick nod, Dex strode off, gripping the net with both hands like a weapon.

  Jason and I walked toward the Wall in silence.

  The Wall was less a wall, more like rows of wooden planks running horizontally, tacked to vertical posts. Both sides were coated with names—first names only. Life on Nil simplified quickly; the Wall was hard proof of that. Beside each name sat a mark. A check, for those lucky enough to win a ticket home. A cross, for the unlucky ones doomed to rest on Nil forever, hopefully in peace. A few other names had marks known only to the owner. Other names begged for a mark, the spaces beside their names conspicuously empty. Some spaces belonged to people still here, like me. Other names had blank spaces long after their owners’ days ran out, their fate known only to the island and God himself.

  I constantly wondered what became of those people. Maybe because I constantly wondered what would become of me.

  Without discussion, we stopped in front of Thad’s name first. I pulled Thad’s blade from my waistband, flipped it around, and handed the knife to Jason, hilt out.

  “It’s Thad’s. The one he used to carve his name.”

  Jason nodded, and, gripping the knife, he bowed his head before he stepped up to the Wall. A slight move, a show of respect. Even though he was the youngest person on Nil, Jason intuitively understood the island; he always had. It’s why he was the best Spotter I’d ever seen, and it’s why I’d bet money Jason would catch a gate when it was his time.

  Time.

  It defined our days and haunted our nights; we were all on the clock. It was one of Nil’s rules.

  Rules we lived by.

  Rules we died by.

  Rules we didn’t make, rules we were still fighting to figure out. But there were two island rules as unyielding as Nil rock.

  First, there’s only one way off the island: a gate. Grab one and you’re gone—but there’s a catch. The moment you open your eyes on Nil, your personal hourglass tips. You’ve got exactly 365 days to escape, or you’re done. Six feet under or lost, but either way, it shook out the same: If you didn’t catch an outbound gate by the end of your year, you were toast.

  And that was rule number two. Nil gives you one year, with zero chance of overtime. Nobody got an extra grain of Nil sand in their hourglass.

  It was a deadline written in blood.

  Jason finished carving Thad’s check, then pointed the blade at the top of the Wall, where NIL was carved in block letters.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, blade aimed at the I. “For letting him go.”

  He offered me the knife, the same way I’d offered it to him. Striding to my right, I touched Charley’s name, remembering the girl who fought so hard to give us all a better shot at making it home.

  “Way to go, girl,” I said quietly. “When you find your boy on the other side, you tell him I said he’s a dumbass. Shoot, knowing you, C, you’ll probably tell him yourself.” I smiled, thinking of the piece of her mind Charley would give Thad when he showed up.

  Not if.

  When.

  “And when I get back,” I whispered, “I’m going to tell him, too.” I kissed my fingers and pressed them against her name in good-bye, knowing Charley and Thad would find each other on the other side. Believing it, because I had to. To lose hope was a death sentence, and I refused.

  But Thad had scared the crap out of me today with his white knight move, and for one tortured moment, my faith had wavered.

  Focus on the good, live in the moment.

  Thad’s words, a flashback perfectly timed. A stark reminder that if I wanted to live to see tomorrow, I’d better live in the now. I’d better get my head straight.

  I focused on Charley’s check, a mark of victory, fully aware that the last two Wall marks I’d carved had been crosses. One for Li, the first person I’d met in the City. And one for Talla, the last person I’d buried.

  The less time I spent at the Wall, the better.

  I’d just turned around when Jillian threw her arms around me. She shook like a quake.

  “Jills, you okay?” I gently lifted her chin so I could see her face. Half-dried tears stained her cheeks. A twine piece holding her hair had slipped, making one auburn braid unravel. Today Jillian looked younger than sixteen. She also looked conflicted and worried. The rest of her expression I couldn’t read, and that worried me. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I’m okay.” She nodded. “I am.” She smiled, as if convincing herself. “It’s just—everything, I think. On the way back from the Shack—which is fine, by the way, nothing missing, nothing damaged—I started thinking about Thad and Charley and it’s so awesome, but then I thought—what if Rives had caught the third gate? I heard you tell Dex it was a triple. And if you’d caught a gate, it would’ve been awesome, too, but we’d be totally clueless.”

  “Clueless about…?” I frowned.

  “About everything. We wouldn’t know whether Thad made it, and we wouldn’t know what had happened to Charley or you. All three of you would have blank spots on the Wall, and we’d never k
now if we should be celebrating or mourning or searching for you because you needed help, because there would be no one to tell us.” She pressed her cheek against my chest. “Then I felt guilty for being glad you’re still here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re my best friend here, Rives. I really want you to make it. But I’m glad it wasn’t today.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes wet again. “Does that make me a bad person?”

  “No,” I said, pushing her bangs from her eyes. “It makes you human.”

  We stood unmoving, Jillian’s head on my shoulder.

  We wouldn’t know. Blank spots on the Wall.

  Jillian had a point. The unknown was the worst part of Nil. Today, the island had saved the lives of two people and saved the sanity of many more.

  Maybe Nil wasn’t evil after all.

  “I still miss her.” Jillian’s soft words made me stiffen. “I know you do, too.”

  I knew Jillian was talking about Talla, Jillian’s other best friend on the island. Talla, whose grave lay near the Flower Field. Talla, whose presence I felt near the water. Talla, the first girl who saw through me.

  Who saw me.

  If she had lived, would we be together now?

  I didn’t know. I’d never know.

  I thought of the one night I’d spent with Talla, the one before she’d gone on Search. The night she’d slept in my arms—actually slept, her first full night’s sleep since she’d landed. As fierce as Talla was, she’d had her demons, the worst of which was chronic insomnia. On Nil, exhaustion made you vulnerable. And Talla hated feeling vulnerable. It was why she’d pushed herself physically, she’d confided, because she was sure that if she pushed her body to the limits, eventually it would have to cave and rest. Talla was determined to beat even herself.

  But the island won. First it broke her body, then her spirit.

  I would not let Nil break me.

  Maybe the island wasn’t evil, but it certainly could be cruel. Then again, cruelty and evil weren’t confined to Nil. Neither were love and loss; it was just that Nil’s hourglass distilled love, life, and loss into a heightened version of the same.