Nil Read online

  THAD

  DAY 355, ALMOST NOON

  Today was my day.

  I felt it—when I woke up, when we picked the Flower Field as the day’s hot spot, and when Charley squeezed my hand a second ago. Today felt right. Or maybe I just wanted it to be right. Want, need, entwined in a blur of desperation, choking me so tight I was incapable of separating the two.

  Charley’s voice sucked me back from my mental black hole.

  “Scan the field,” she said, her eyes busy. “I’ve got the north edge.”

  Tick-tock. Seconds passed, then minutes. I felt noon slip when Charley shouted.

  “There!” she cried, pointing.

  Meters away, the writhing wall of air whispered my name as it rose. Come, Thad. Run.

  “Run!” Charley yelled, pulling my hand.

  I took off, Charley by my side, her hand tight in mine. The gate was glorious, winking with outbound perfection. Abruptly, clarity struck—as crisp and clear as the cloudless Nil sky—and in that moment, I knew: I couldn’t win. Because even when I caught the gate, I would lose.

  I would lose Charley.

  Just run, I told myself. Charley’s feet paced mine.

  The gate rolled fast, skimming the north edge of the Flower Field. It was a racer, a single. Three meters away, the air glittered like sunlight bouncing off of snow.

  I looked at Charley, certain I would shatter, even before I felt the burn of the gate. “I love you.”

  “As I love you.” She grinned. “No regrets. See you on the flip side!” Then she let go.

  In my peripheral vision, Charley spun out of gate range.

  Heat leaked from the gate; it was like approaching an oven set on full broil, and I was about to throw myself in. As I braced for the burn, a sickly looking orange cat darted from the field, brushed my ankle, and shot into the gate.

  Charley screamed as the cat shimmered; I fought to stop, windmilling my arms to get away before the gate zapped me to death. Millimeters from my nose, the gate snapped shut with an audible hiss.

  It was gone. So was the cat.

  And I was still right here.

  “Well, that sucked,” I said. I rested my hands on my hips as I fought to catch my breath. My quads trembled; I couldn’t make them stop.

  Charley threw her arms around me. “If you’d have hit that gate—” She shook her head, holding me tight.

  I rested my head against hers. “But I didn’t.”

  For a long moment, we just stood there. I had no clue who was holding who, and it didn’t matter. We were together. And I was still alive.

  “Holy crap,” Charley murmured, her breathing almost normal. “That gate was yours. We were right there. And some crazy cat stole it and almost killed you in the process. What’s up with all these frickin’ cats?”

  “You know how Nil loves to play with kitties. Gates are like catnip. It’s weird.”

  “It’s awful.” Letting go, she sat on a rock. Her expression was half shocked, half furious. “To be so close only to have it stolen by something so random, especially something that looked half dead.”

  “Nothing like Nil to try to save a cat with one foot in the grave.” My voice was bitter. Forcing a smile, I sat beside Charley and took her hand in mine.

  “No,” Charley said. “It wasn’t Nil, it was random. Cats are like a wild card, literally.”

  That was when I knew Charley didn’t get Nil. Maybe Nil hadn’t found the chink in Charley’s armor of goodness; maybe Charley didn’t have one. Nil wasn’t in Charley’s head—at least not yet, and I hoped not ever.

  Because I knew better.

  This was Nil’s playground, where Nil watched and cackled and called every last shot. She knew that cat was primed and ready to run, just like us. Nil flashed gates where she pleased, using gates to change the game, bringing new contestants and threats to add to her fun. Right now Nil was enjoying herself way too much with us to let me go: watching us hope, watching us struggle. Today’s gate was a calculated Nil move. Here, kitty, she’d crooned, crooking her island finger and calling for trouble. Run and I’ll let you go. But you, Thad, will stay.

  Thinking of Ramia, I shuddered.

  Watching me, Charley frowned.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said, unwilling to tell her she was wrong. I refused to give Nil any advantage, not when it came to Charley. The warmth in Charley’s hand was a grounding force, a reminder of what was real and what mattered.

  Charley looked at our hands. “I hate this. I mean, I’m so happy to have you for another day, but—that cat robbed you.” Her voice went flat. “I was ready. I was ready to say good-bye, dreading it but ready, and you got robbed.”

  “I know.” I rubbed my thumb over her palm. “I know.”

  For a minute, we just sat there, holding hands, not speaking.

  “Did you ever see that old movie, Groundhog Day?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Well, it’s about this guy who lives the same day over and over. Noon is like that for me. We just keep saying good-bye, over and over. And then when noon’s over and you’re still here, it’s great, but it’s also terrible. And it’s worse than that stupid movie, because when we wake up, it’s not the same day, it’s another day, gone.”

  I stared at Charley’s hand in mine. “For me, noon is like that moment when I’m on the mountain, behind the start line and the horn’s about to blow. I’m running through the course in my head. I’m amped and ready; I’ve got my head straight—and then it’s like someone canceled the race. Without warning, they just said, ‘Not today. Come back tomorrow.’ And then I just get jacked up all over again, ready to fly, ready to go.” I swallowed, hard. “Ready to say good-bye.”

  She nodded, then laughed, a weird hollow sound. “That word: good-bye. I get that, too. Because when you catch a gate, it’ll be good. Better than good, it’ll be great. But it’s still a farewell.” Charley paused. “The crazy thing is, when noon passes, it’s like a gift. Another twenty-three hours together, guaranteed, that no one can take away.” She looked at me, her face full of guilt. “I know I shouldn’t be telling you this—I feel like I’m confessing, and I’m not even Catholic—but I’m totally dreading our good-bye.”

  Understatement, I thought. Charley had no idea how much I dreaded leaving her behind. Maybe I’d started out as her island guide, but along the way I’d become more like her shield, her protection against the darkness of Nil. And I feared that without me, she’d be vulnerable. But it wasn’t my choice; it was Nil’s. The cat was cruel evidence of that.

  “Me too,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But it’s temporary. It’ll all work out. Plenty of time, remember?”

  Despair washed over her face, and my heart dropped. Her mind had leaped ahead; she’d already done the math.

  Less than twenty-four hours until tomorrow’s noon.

  CHAPTER

  56

  CHARLEY

  DAY 89, NIGHT

  I’d lied to Thad today.

  Okay, maybe I hadn’t lied, but I hadn’t been totally honest either.

  I wasn’t lying about feeling guilty when noon passed and Thad was still here, because it did feel like a gift, a wholly selfish present. But today was different. Today when noon passed, Thad’s presence didn’t feel like a gift; it felt wrong. That was the truth I didn’t share with Thad.

  And the more I thought about it, the more today’s outcome felt like a mistake—a kink in Fate’s plan. Today was Thad’s day, bearing Thad’s gate; we’d never been so close. But that stupid cat stole it, and now Thad only had ten days left.

  As much as I was dreading it, the sooner Thad and I said good-bye the better.

  And yet, I couldn’t stifle the sense that we were missing something. That he was missing something—something that caused the kink.

  We’re all here for a reason, Macy had said. But not the same reason.

  I watched Thad’s eyelids flutter in sleep. Do you know why you’re here? Have you figur
ed it out?

  His breathing was steady, like Thad himself, which was oddly reassuring. Maybe he already knows, I thought. But if he didn’t, I prayed Thad dug deep, and soon. Because if Thad was right, and today’s miss wasn’t random, then he had exactly ten days to change his luck.

  And my charts couldn’t help with that.

  CHAPTER

  57

  THAD

  DAY 356, DAWN

  The Naming Wall looked different now.

  New names, belonging to faces I didn’t know. Spaces filled by hands that weren’t mine, on days I wasn’t here. Quan had a check. It seemed to right the balance. Heesham sported a fresh check, too, which felt better than good. Elia had a cross, which sucked. So did Sergio. I wondered why. He had plenty of time. Or did.

  One space looked exactly the same: mine. No cross, no check. The crosses around me looked sinister, like they were conspiring to birth one beside me, Nil jonesing to win her twisted version of tic-tac-toe.

  No, I thought, glaring at the space beside my name. You won’t win. Part of me had the perverse urge to carve a check next to my name right now, but it would accomplish nothing. It wouldn’t bring a gate. It wouldn’t guarantee that I’d live.

  Then my eyes fell on Ramia’s name. The rising sun hit her cross, setting it on fire, then I blinked and the illusion was gone. I stared at Ramia’s cross, unable to look away.

  “Come on.” Charley’s voice broke my Wall thrall. She gently drew me away. “Everybody’s ready.”

  Behind her, Jason flashed me a thumbs-up. Miya stood beside him. Rives was talking to Dex, his new Second.

  Charley’s hand in mine, I walked over to the group.

  Dex stuck out his hand. Tattoos covered his chest and arms like a long-sleeved shirt, dark and tribal. His outstretched forearm boasted a massive cross sprouting flames.

  “Good luck out there,” he said. “Run fast.”

  I stared at his burning cross as I shook his hand. “Will do,” I said. Consumed by fire and fear, by flaming gates and burning crosses and by the infernal nature of Ramia’s predictions, my brain threatened to implode.

  Dex’s strong grip brought me back. “I’m serious, mate. Run fast. Get yourself back home. For you, for all of us.” He released my hand and looked at Charley. “Be careful, Charley,” Dex said. “Protect your boy, and watch your back as well. It can get a bit crazy out there, you know?”

  “I know.” She smiled. “See you, Dex. Stay alert and take care of each other.”

  She’d be a great Leader, I realized, if Nil didn’t steal her first, like Talla. Or Sergio. The firestorm in my head grew.

  Jillian squeezed my arm. “You’ll make it, Thad. I believe in you.”

  “Thanks.” But it’s not up to me. Not my game, not my choice. My destiny wasn’t my own, and I hated it.

  I was wired so tight I thought I might snap. Break, then shatter—into a million bone bits, doomed to stay forever, but I knew that’s what Nil wanted, and I refused.

  I would not crack.

  And yet part of me wondered if I already had, at least a little. Nil was screwing with my head, like she’d been for almost a year—and yesterday she’d drilled a little deeper, hitting another nerve. At the Flower Field, for a minute, Nil let me think I’d escape. I’d actually believed I’d made it, only for Nil to snatch victory away using a half dead cat. I’d stayed up half the night wondering if Nil would spend the next ten days toying with me, only to claim victory in the end.

  Charley was wrong about the carvings, at least about the lines. The target was on my chest, dead center, and I’d never felt more like prey. After all, that was why Nil brought us here. We were Nil’s sport, Nil’s fun. It was that simple.

  As we loaded our gear, I took a final look at the Wall. Empty spaces taunted me, like gravestones hungering for a final date.

  You’ll make it, Jillian had said.

  Staring at those empty spaces, I hoped we all made it. But I knew we all wouldn’t. The Wall said it all.

  Plus, Nil was full of all those damn cats.

  CHAPTER

  58

  CHARLEY

  DAY 90, AFTER DARK

  The night was silent and still. Thad lay beside me, and I prayed he was asleep. And I prayed we didn’t have to go back to the City.

  I’d barely been able to rip Thad away from that dang Wall. He’d stood there, running his hands over the carvings, only this time he was tracing crosses. I didn’t want to ask what was running through his head. I was afraid I already knew.

  After leaving the City, we headed north, marching toward noon. Watching and waiting. Then today’s noon came and went without a gate, like a party popper that fizzled.

  The rest of the day was weirdly shadowed.

  We continued north, trying to get ahead of the gates. Thad’s time was running out, and I was scared to death. I was scared of death—of Thad’s death. If he died, it would kill us both.

  He had nine days left.

  How did the end get here so fast? My mind couldn’t wrap around the pace, the frightening acceleration of time. It was like the more I wanted time to slow, the faster it sped up.

  The entire island was mapped now. We’d skipped the mountain, because none of us had enough clothes to hike up there anyway, and so really, what was the point? We’d made gate schedules using the quadrants as a guide, and we’d identified every hot spot. Food sources, too, which was Thad’s idea. The mango groves, guava stands, fish ponds, and shrimp spots—all were marked on a separate food map; the idea was to give future visitors the best chance to survive long enough to get home, just in case anyone forgot to mention to a rookie where they found something to eat. Back in the City, the Master Map was nearly finished. Dex took over where Sergio had left off, ensuring Sergio’s legacy would live on.

  Poor Sergio, I thought. Nil was not the place to get stung by a jellyfish. Jillian told me he’d died within minutes. Odd how something so small could be so deadly.

  On the other hand, noon was killing us one day at a time.

  Thad and I just kept saying good-bye, over and over, and I was terrified that the one day I forgot to say it would be the day he left. But that would be good.

  Because that would be good-bye.

  As I fell asleep, I prayed that tomorrow was Thad’s lucky day.

  CHAPTER

  59

  THAD

  DAY 363, MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

  The last seven days passed so fast they blurred. Like cards flying through the hands of an expert dealer, flipping so fast you barely have time to spot the card’s edge before it vanishes into the deck, gone forever—those were my last days on Nil. I caught only the edges, unable to make time slow down, not sure I wanted to anyway.

  Nil was the dealer, and I was so damn sick of playing. And making the game extra fun, I’d developed insomnia. Raging, vicious, rip-your-eyes-out insomnia.

  I wanted to sleep, but couldn’t. And the more I thought about how much I needed it, the harder it was to fall asleep. It’s like when you watch the clock at home, thinking, If I fall asleep now, I’ll get five hours of sleep. If I fall asleep now, I’ll get four.

  There were no clocks on Nil, but I knew exactly how much time I had left.

  Two days.

  Two noons.

  Two chances.

  And if I blow those chances? Simple. It’s checkout time.

  Please just let me sleep, I begged.

  Two days, Nil giggled in the midnight breeze. In two days, you can sleep all you want.

  Desperate to shove Nil out of my head, I focused on Charley. On all that was good in my world. She lay curled against me, the one thing I wanted to live for more than anything else. And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about the end. My end. It was coming like an avalanche, or maybe I was shooting toward it.

  An old memory surfaced, one built on speed. I was seven. I loved skiing, the faster the better. I’d point my skis straight down the mountain, my only goal to get to the bottom faste
r. Frustrated by my apparent lack of caution, my dad had bought me a snowboard. He’d figured that if I had to go sideways, I’d have to slow down. That was when I’d discovered snowboard cross, and racing.

  And now I was racing toward death.

  Pictures of Nil’s victims flickered behind my eyes, a cruel mental montage. Li. Talla. Bart. Older visuals. Thomas and Sara. Uta.

  Ramia.

  You’ll Lead, she’d whispered, her eyes sharp, her fingers stroking that creepy bone cuff. But you’ll never leave.

  You don’t know, I thought, my mental tone fierce. It’s up to Nil, not you.

  Holy shit, now I’m talking to a dead person—in my head.

  Trying not to lose it more than I already had, I told myself that Ramia was a freak, an island anomaly. So what if she predicted her own death and a few others? My destiny lay with Nil.

  Life or Death. Door Number One or Door Number Two.

  I’d never told anyone—partly because I didn’t care, partly because I refused to add fuel to the labyrinth fire—but for me, the number two on Ahmad’s sketch represented choice. Life or death. Two options, the ultimate choice. Only it’s Nil’s choice. Because the gates are always her call.

  People die here, that’s a given. But if Nil chose death, the how was unclear, another Nil surprise. Will I just fade away? Or drop like a rag doll? Will it hurt? Burn like hell? Or will it be some fantastic ride?

  I couldn’t shut down the mental rat race.

  Charley had been asleep for at least an hour. I’d watched her the whole time, studying the curve of her shoulders, the set of her jaw, the bow of her lips. Nil’s cruelty was complete. She’d given me a taste of the good life, just to tear it away.

  I couldn’t imagine a world without Charley. It was worse than a world without snow.

  At some point, I obviously fell asleep, because Charley’s honey drawl woke me up.

  “Thad,” she whispered, stretching my name into two syllables, “are you awake?” Charley lay beside me, one hand propping up her head, her dark hair falling around her shoulders like rain.

  I blinked against the bright dawn light. “Yeah.” I tried to smile, but it came out a yawn.