Nil Page 29

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking guilty. “When I saw you move, I thought—”

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you woke me.”

  Now that I focused, Charley looked wide awake. Eyes clear, and worried.

  “How long have you been up?” I asked.

  “A while,” she said, smiling. But her smile faded before it ever took hold. “I was terrified that when I woke up today, you’d be gone. Promise me you won’t leave, not like Kevin left Natalie.” Charley paused, her eyes fierce. “Promise you won’t go renegade.”

  I nodded.

  I didn’t admit it, but I had thought about it. Not about leaving Charley, but about Kevin’s choice to leave Nat. I finally understood. I still didn’t agree with it, but now I understood it. And Kevin’s choice was not mine. I refused to leave Charley until Nil ripped us apart. Plus, I had Charley’s charts, a shot at winning that Kevin never had.

  Charley was frowning at me.

  I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I give you my word. I promise I won’t leave you.”

  She nodded, then twisted her hair into a thick roll. The act struck me as nervous. “Thad, I keep thinking. About the carvings and the labyrinths. I know you think the personal journey angle Macy talked about is a bunch of hogwash, but—” she paused, avoiding my eyes. “Maybe you’ve already thought about it, maybe you’ve figured it out. But if you haven’t, I want you to think about it. Really think. About why you’re here. Because I agree with Macy, that we’re all here for a reason, and the reason is different for everyone.”

  Wrong, I thought. We’re here for exactly the same reason: Nil needed new contestants. End of story. “So why are you here?” I winced at the bitterness in my voice.

  “To meet you.” Her voice rang with conviction.

  “Then I’m here for you,” I said.

  Her eyes searched mine, like she was digging deep, hunting for truth. You know me, I thought, feeling the familiar ache in my chest. Better than anyone, ever. But I didn’t say it. Staying quiet, I watched her study me.

  She smiled, a sad smile that hit me like a punch in the gut. “We need to get going if we’re gonna make it to South Beach,” she said quietly. She was already getting to her feet.

  “Let’s pack and roll.” The words rolled out, like an autoresponse. Have a nice day. Good luck. May the Force be with you. Rote and hollow.

  Rives stretched, looking oddly comfortable for someone who’d slept upright against a chunk of black rock. Not many people could grab zz’s sitting up, but Rives told me once he could sleep anywhere, anytime. Lucky him.

  I watched them: Miya opening her eyes to Jason, Jason handing Charley dried fruit, Charley laughing at Rives, Rives reading Charley’s charts. They’d take care of each other after I was gone, and the knowledge gave me comfort. Charley wouldn’t be alone.

  We reached South Beach by mid-morning. After chasing gates north, we’d turned and were now chasing them south into Quadrant Two. The gate storm should be swirling through here soon—unless we’d already missed it. And we wouldn’t know until today at noon.

  I felt amped and edgy, like I always did as noon approached. Lately the noon vibe was worse than ever, because now nausea was mixed in, just enough to throw me off my game. Off Nil’s game.

  Eyes wide open, Kevin’s ghost urged. My eyes were so wide I barely blinked.

  Jason and Rives hugged the tree line, pacing like soldiers. Miya drifted near Jason. She had eagle-eye vision, and was a great Spotter in the making. And of course Charley walked beside me. Her hand tucked tight in mine, her chin tilted up, daring Nil to defy her.

  God, I love you, I thought, watching her face. I squeezed her hand, and just as she turned to me, Jason’s cry split the air. “Gate! Eleven o’clock!” Whipping to look, I caught the shadow rippling across the charcoal sand. Fifty meters out, at most.

  This was it.

  Like someone had shot a gun, we all began hauling ass toward the gate, running as if our lives depended on catching it, which of course, mine did. The sand dropped, the air rose, and in a sweet twist of fate, the gate began moving—toward us.

  “All out, Thad!” Rives shouted. “GO!”

  Jason, Miya, and Rives dropped back. I refused to let go of Charley’s hand. My fingers crushing hers, I kept her close.

  “Love you,” I choked out.

  “Love you, too,” she said, grinning, but her eyes were shimmering, like the gate I was dying to catch.

  Please don’t cry, I thought, fighting to run. Because I’ll lose it for sure.

  She didn’t. “Almost there,” she said. Now her eyes were on the gate. Her grip loosened, a tiny hint of what was coming: pain.

  But the pain of the gate would be nothing compared with the pain of leaving Charley.

  The gate rolled at us, fast. It was a single. It had to be; it flew like a rocket. The air glittered, reflecting rainbows and light, a million prisms, each one itching to tear me apart, more brilliant and roiling than I’d ever seen an incoming gate, or maybe I was already feeling the burn; the iridescence was blinding. Every fiber of my being ached as my brain screamed to let Charley go. Meters from the gate, I spun Charley out of range.

  The luminescence dulled.

  Behind me, Jason yelled, “Thad, something’s weird! The gate’s muddy.”

  “I see it!” I braked so hard I kicked up black sand. It sprayed into the face of the gate, where it disappeared like mist. Then it reappeared.

  Black sand. Black mist. Blackness in the air.

  “Back up!” I shouted, reversing in the soft sand and stumbling away. Breaking into a run, I grabbed Charley and dragged her away. “Incoming!”

  Two gates—one entry, one exit—were flashing in the same space, something I’d never seen or even known was possible. And my gate was blocked.

  As we sprinted away, I looked back in time to see the inbound gate flush completely black. To its left, the outside edge of the outbound gate shimmered. For an instant, two overlapping circles were clearly defined: one as black as night, the other iridescent crystal magic. The black one glittered like mirrored charcoal, confirming my fear: this inbound had a rider.

  Person, thing, or animal.

  One breath later, a massive bundle of brown fur fell from the air.

  Animal.

  My gate kept moving, missing the creature by inches, still rolling toward us. On the black sand, the animal lay still.

  “You have to go back!” Charley cried. “You can make it!”

  She yanked her hand away, and ran toward Rives. “Run!”

  “Charley—” I started. The creature stirred, lifting its head and baring its teeth. My answer was wrong: it was a thing.

  “RUN!” she screamed.

  I spun around and sprinted back toward the gate, feeling like I was playing Nil’s sick version of Simon Says. Nil says catch the gate. Nil says run away. Run back.

  The animal wobbled to its feet, swaying like a drunken boarder and grunting. It was a giant grizzly—and I was running right at him. The gate beckoned less than two meters away; the grizzly three. It was a catch-22, Nil style.

  Oh, I didn’t say Nil says …

  The outbound collapsed, dissolving into a shimmering black dot.

  It was just me, Charley, Jason, Miya, and Rives, and one seriously pissed-off bear.

  Nil says run away.

  “Go!” I shouted as I turned back around. Five steps later Charley’s hand was in mine and I was pulling her, running, sprinting, holding her tight; it was amazing I hadn’t broken her fingers by now.

  The grizzly roared; we had his full attention.

  Flying as a group, we sprinted past the tubes, gaining distance with each step. We knew Nil, and the bear didn’t. He was also having problems with the sand, or maybe he was confused from his gate trip.

  We hit the trees, Rives in the lead. The bear followed, swatting trees, roaring in frustration, and generally making enough racket to let us keep track of him. Running a
nd cutting, we wove through the trees, toward the lava fields and away from the bear.

  Eventually we lost the grumpy grizzly. After we hadn’t heard any roars in hours, I felt decently safe. We made camp, then I pulled Jason aside.

  “You still have a spear?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay. Take Miya and head back to the City. Tell them about the grizzly. Let everybody know Nil has a new toy. And check the gliders. Make sure they’re reinforced before you go up, okay? Check every time. But don’t forget the grizzly.”

  Jason looked at me. He knew what I was telling him. Guys suck at good-byes.

  “They need to know,” I said, gripping his shoulder.

  “You sure?” he asked, his face twisted with emotion.

  “I’m sure.”

  He stood there, then kicked a shell that wasn’t there. “This sucks.”

  “Nil does,” I agreed. “But hey, if it weren’t for Nil, I’d never have had the chance to school you in the proper way to land a frontside air.”

  Jason nodded. “Yeah. You did, man, you did. Hey”—he looked up at me—“when I make it home, I’ll look you up. You can teach me how to snowboard, and I’ll—I’ll”—Jason stumbled—“let you drive the tractor or something.”

  I grinned. “Sounds like fun. I’ve never had the chance to drive a John Deere.”

  “Kidde,” he said abruptly. Almost fiercely. “With two d’s and an e. That’s my last name.”

  I realized I’d never asked Jason his last name. He was always Jason, from Omaha.

  “Blake. Thad Blake. Whistler, British Columbia. Near Vancouver.”

  He nodded, and I squeezed his shoulder before I let go. “You’re the best Spotter I’ve ever met. You’ll make it.”

  “So will you,” he said. Still fierce, only now he sounded desperate.

  “Hey,” I said as he turned away. “Don’t forget the grizzly.”

  “I won’t forget,” Jason said quietly.

  “I know,” I said, feeling sad and empty and pissed all at once. “Thanks.”

  Jason walked away, releasing his spear from his belt. He said something to Miya, who turned to me. She bowed slightly, then lifted one hand in farewell. Then Jason took her hand, and together they disappeared into the trees.

  I realized I’d forgotten to wave back. Maybe I’d nodded reflexively, but right now I was too far in my own head to be sure of anything, especially common courtesy.

  Rives was gathering tinder. Charley sat another ten meters away, out of whisper range, unpacking our food. Looking at the meager spread, it seemed fitting. There wasn’t enough food for three people to last another day; there was barely enough for two. But this Search ended tomorrow, and regardless of how the end played out, I knew that by the end of tomorrow, this team would be short a mouth.

  Mine.

  “Rives.” My voice was low.

  He looked up. “Yeah, bro?”

  “Listen.” I paused, swallowing, not sure how to say what I had to say. “I sent Jason and Miya back.”

  Rives rose, his face resolute. “You want me to bug out.”

  “No.” I shook my head, then glanced at Charley. She was slicing redfruit, her hair swirling around her shoulders, shielding her face. I looked back at Rives.

  “I want you to stay. But I have a favor to ask. Two, actually.”

  CHAPTER

  60

  CHARLEY

  DAY 98, NIGHT

  Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up.

  Because I feared he already had.

  One second I was freaking out, then I’d turn mad, then hopeless and then bitter. It was a continuous loop of desperation, and I was stuck smack in the middle, alone—because even though I lay curled beside Thad, he felt far away. A secret lay between us now, and I hated it.

  My mind flashed back to the conversation I’d overheard with Rives. Thad had kept his voice low, but my mom always claimed I had hearing like Superman, and she wasn’t kidding. Although I couldn’t see their faces, I’d heard every word.

  I have a favor to ask. Two, actually, Thad had said.

  Rives hadn’t hesitated. Anything. You name it.

  Okay. Thad had paused. Tomorrow I want you to stay with us, but hang back. Give us space, but stick around, eh?

  Not a problem, Rives had answered. I’m your wingman. There’d been a smile in his voice. What’s number two?

  If I—Thad had stumbled here—if tomorrow doesn’t work out like I hope, I want you to look out for Charley. I don’t want her to bury me—NO! I’d wanted to jump up and shake him, screaming, DON’T GIVE UP! but I’d been frozen to the rock, redfruit juice dripping off my knife like blood—and I need to know someone’s watching her back after I’m gone.

  Rives’s voice dropped, and I’d strained to hear his next words. You know I’ll do it, but listen, bro. We won’t be burying you. You’ll make it.

  Promise me you’ll look out for her, Rives. Thad’s voice was hard. I need your word.

  I promise, Rives had said, almost reluctantly. Like I said, I’m your wingman. I’ve got your back.

  Not my back. Charley’s. Promise me you’ll have Charley’s back.

  I promise. Rives sounded resigned. I’ve got Charley’s back.

  Thad never mentioned his conversation with Rives, and I hadn’t brought it up either. It was the first secret we’d had between us since Day 13, since he’d stalled on telling me about the year deadline. This secret was so much worse. Because now I not only heard his words, but I also heard his voice—full of pain and, worse, defeat.

  I don’t want her to bury me.

  And he doesn’t know that I know, I thought, feeling sick. Another secret, adding to the distance.

  Thad’s dark lashes fluttered, hiding eyes that I knew were the color of Nil’s deep waters. He was either asleep or faking it well. I studied his face, memorizing every line, and in this bittersweet moment, I felt achingly thankful to Nil. Nil was like that crazy aunt who hooked people up at weddings. Where other than on Nil would I have had the chance to meet the most amazing boy from Canada, a boy who snowboards so well he made their national team? Sometimes I’d caught Thad staring at the mountain when he didn’t think anyone was watching.

  Right now his eyes were closed and still. His lips rested slightly apart, his jaw was slack, and in this moment, he looked exactly seventeen.

  He’s asleep, I thought with relief. It’s harder to sprint when you’re tired, and I believed that crazy Nil would give him a reason to run tomorrow.

  I believed we were here for a reason, and I believed I was here to meet Thad. Maybe he was here to meet me, maybe not. Maybe he’d already figured out why he was here and didn’t want to share it with me, yet another secret he’d chosen to keep. But it didn’t matter if I knew why Thad was here; all that mattered was that Thad knew.

  But is knowing enough? my worried mind whispered.

  I thought of Talla and Li, of Sergio and Rory. People who’d stay in Nil’s labyrinth forever. Had they figured out why they were here? And did the understanding—or lack of it—alter their fate? Maybe knowing wasn’t enough, but not knowing might be a death sentence.

  Maybe some aren’t destined to leave.

  My breath caught at the thought. As panic set in, I clung to one irrefutable fact: crazy Nil had given us each other, and the only future we had wasn’t here. Thad would make it; he had to.

  He had one noon left.

  Please don’t give up.

  Wrapped in darkness and blanketed by secrets, I lay beside Thad, praying for one last gate. And as my eyes grew as heavy as my heart, I prayed he’d be there when I woke up.

  Because even though he’d promised he wouldn’t leave me, it felt like he already had.

  CHAPTER

  61

  THAD

  DAY 364, NIGHT

  I’m going to die tomorrow.

  A pervasive sense of calm accompanied that thought. Each minute marched on, counting down
toward one inevitable conclusion: death.

  The writing was on the Wall.

  Did the inevitability of death trigger the calm? I wondered. Did everyone staring down the barrel of a gun feel peace in that moment? Or did the surreal calm stem from acceptance of one’s fate? I’d finally given up trying to control something I couldn’t. My fate was out of my hands, and giving up had never felt so good.

  Tucked tight to my side, Charley fit perfectly, like a natural extension of me. I studied her profile, etching it in my memory. Eyes closed, lashes dark, one hand hiding under her cheek; the other resting gently on my chest.

  I knew she was finally asleep. She’d faked it for a while; we both had. Words were too painful. We’d said good-bye over and over, and at this point, there was nothing left to say. The reality sucked; it was what it was. The truth was ugly. Like Nil.

  I have one noon.

  One shot.

  One last roll of the dice.

  It was the ultimate Nil game. For 365 days, we took our chances, racing toward noon, standing in open Nil air, hoping for lightning to strike. Some were lucky, like Natalie and Kevin. Others rolled the dice over and over, but never won, like Ramia and Li. And some, like Rory, barely got to play.

  And then there was today. The inbound had dropped a bear bomb, screwing up my roll and changing the game. Changing the moment and ruining my chance.

  Maybe my last chance.

  Definitely my best chance.

  Our fates were left to chance, but it was Nil who ran the tables. Even with Charley’s charts, the deck was stacked in Nil’s favor. It was her show, her rules. One gate. One person. One noon. One year.

  And like I’d known since Day One, her rules sucked.

  But for the first time, I finally understood them. Today’s message was loud and clear.

  I held Charley against me, knowing that tomorrow I’d go all in. I’d step up, and with everything I had on the table, I’d roll the noon dice one last time. And this time, I’d be ready. Ready to run, ready to die. Whatever hand Nil dealt, I was braced to face it on my terms. All I hoped for now was the chance to win.