Nil Unlocked Read online

  Preparations for tonight’s Nil Night fueled the City.

  Jason and I sat by the beachside firepit making torches, a mindless process if there ever was one. Beside us sat a basket filled with brown fruit the size and shape of oranges, only these fruits were off-limits for snacking.

  The secret lurked inside. Break open the flesh and inside was an oily nut. Dry them out, string them together, and you had a slick bead necklace, but we used these jewels for fire. Take a piece of bamboo, tie a dozen fresh-hulled nuts on it, and voilà—a Nil torch. Light the top nut first, then the flame worked its way down. From top to bottom, each torch burned for hours, depending on factors unknown to me.

  All I knew was that it worked.

  Even with Jason’s bum finger, we had a dozen torches fully made when the dark-haired girl with a flower tucked behind her ear walked up with Zane.

  “Like the new ’do, bro,” Zane said.

  “Thanks.” I turned to the girl and stuck out my hand, smiled. “Hey. I’m Rives.”

  “Kiera.” She smiled. “I was wondering when I’d finally meet you. It seems that everyone knows you but me.”

  Her accent surprised me.

  “You’re French?” I asked.

  “Tahitian.”

  “Your home is a beautiful place,” I said in French.

  She looked surprised too. “You speak French?” Hers was flawless.

  “Yes.” I answered in English, aware of Jason’s and Zane’s eyes, unwilling to make this moment private. “My mother was raised in Paris. We have a flat there.”

  “You don’t have an accent.” It sounded like an accusation.

  I shrugged. “We travel a lot.” With my parents’ jobs, we’d lived in a variety of places, always long enough for me to find a local club to play football and sharpen my skills as striker. My last coach said I had pro potential. Even though he was a former scout for Real Madrid, I thought Coach just threw out that line to get more out of me. I wondered now.

  “But”—Kiera’s lilting French brought me back, still pressing—“where do you live?”

  I didn’t feel like playing—or defending myself.

  “Here.” One word, in crisp English, delivered with a smile.

  “I meant, where are you from?” she asked. Annoyed tone, tilted chin. I realized I’d misread her posture the first time I’d seen her standing near Dex. It wasn’t strength I’d seen, or defiance; it was privilege. I sensed Kiera was accustomed to getting her way.

  “Before here?” she added in English.

  “Everywhere. I travel with my parents. They’re journalists.” I could’ve added that we had flats in Paris, Los Angeles, and Honolulu, and rotated between the three. But I didn’t.

  Arms crossed, Kiera studied the torch assembly line.

  “In Tahiti, we have candlenut trees, too,” she said. “I’ve seen fishermen use the nut oil, but I’ve never seen anyone make torches. How did you know how to do that?”

  “Natalie taught me,” I said. “She was the Leader before Thad. I don’t know who taught her. Maybe one day you’ll teach someone else.”

  “I’d rather go home,” she said.

  “Amen, sister,” Zane agreed.

  Jason looked up from his torch. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately,” he said. “Not about leaving but about how much knowledge we lose. You know someone before Charley must have figured out the gate pattern, but then it got lost, like in a bad telephone game.” He turned toward me, worried. “What if the next ten people who show up don’t speak English? What if all the veterans leave in the same week? What if people forget what these do?” He held up a nut. “What if there’s other stuff we don’t know, but we don’t even know that we don’t know?”

  “Whoa,” said Zane, his eyes wide. “Deep.”

  Jason tossed a nut at Zane, barely missing his head. “You know what I mean. For all we know, we’re still missing tons of information about this place.”

  “Or maybe we know more than ever,” I said. “Either way, I hear you, bro. But you can’t worry about the what-ifs.” Because that’s how Nil gets in your head. “All you can worry about is the now.”

  “Agreed,” Zane said. “But I’ve only been camping here forty-two days, so what do I know? Not much. Just that this place is a total freak fest.”

  “That it is,” I agreed.

  I wondered why I’d felt so defensive with Kiera, why I’d shared so little. Maybe I didn’t like all the questions. I came from a family that preferred to do the asking.

  Maybe, the waves whispered. Or maybe it’s you. Maybe you haven’t found what you’re looking for. Or who.

  Or who? I wondered, glancing toward the ocean.

  If there was someone out there for me, she wasn’t on this island. I’d risked my heart once here; I sure as hell wouldn’t do it again.

  I had absolutely no time for that.

  CHAPTER

  15

  SKYE

  NOVEMBER 18, DUSK

  Entry #18

  Day 202. I stood alone in the Arches, looking at the sea.

  Come, the island whispered. Search.

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to search for. Gates? People? Something else?

  I still don’t know. But I know we Searched for gates every damn day. And the island named the system for us.

  My name is Scott Bracken, and this is the truth.

  Entry #19

  You’re not well, they say.

  We love you, they say.

  You’ll be okay, they say.

  I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes I think I still hear Nil.

  My name is Scott Bracken, and I swear this is the truth.

  Entry #20

  My last day on the island began like the rest.

  Sunrise, I rise.

  John sat by the firepit, carving dice. Anne lay curled beside him, asleep. I waved, not wanting to wake her. John tossed me a mango. I caught it and saluted him with it.

  He grinned.

  I passed the Wall, pointed to my name, and hit the beach. Sunrise in Giraffe Land was stunning. And peaceful. It was my favorite time of day on the island.

  Hui was already awake, working on the hang gliders he’d been building for weeks.

  The first time I’d gone up, the rush was so intense I didn’t want to come down. It had been our project ever since I’d stepped down as Leader. Hui was the engineer; I was the labor. We had two fully functional; two more were halfway complete. The gliders would help us see the island from the air, and since we’d broadened the Search area for gates well beyond the City, we were getting spread out. We were losing people to gates, which was good. We were losing supplies to the island, which was bad. And we were running into more wildlife than ever, which was dangerous. Weird wildlife, not what you’d expect on a tropical island. Like hippos. The game Hungry, Hungry Hippos was wrong; it should’ve been called Angry, Angry Hippos. Hippos were big, pissed-off creatures. And the only thing worse than getting caught off guard by a hippo was running into a snow leopard. An honest-to-God snow leopard, on a tropical island.

  Stay away from the meadow, my angel girl had warned. Probably because it hid snow leopards. A pair of them. And possibly a cheetah. And, for all I knew, a walrus. After Jenny and I ran into the leopards in the meadow and walked away unscathed, we never went back. Never went close. Even the giraffe knew to stay away from the meadow. He hung around the City until one day he simply disappeared.

  But the gliders. The gliders were fucking brilliant, like Hui. The gliders helped us spot danger before it found us.

  Hui went back to get some food. I looked toward the City, hoping Jenny would show soon. Her detail was collecting redfruit, but she should be back by now. Maybe we could go eat at the Arches. It was our favorite place to hang, close to the City but far enough away that it felt like ours. I laughed at that. Nothing here was ours. A total joke. I got up, stiff from crouching, and decided to jog to get my blood moving again. I ran by the water’s edge, slowly,
above the foam. I’d gone maybe eighty yards north when I saw the gate; it rose from the white sand and flew toward me, like it had my name on it.

  I didn’t even realize it was noon. I didn’t even have to run.

  One step later I walked into the gate. No fear.

  It burned.

  I passed out.

  That was it. Totally anticlimactic. Arrive alone, leave alone, like I’d come full circle, only the boy who arrived was not the same boy who left.

  And when I woke up on someone’s frosty lawn, my first thought wasn’t that I was naked. Or that I’d lived. Or that my time served in Giraffe Land was over. It was that I never told anyone good-bye.

  How messed up is that?

  So that’s it. End of story.

  My name is Scott Bracken, and this is the truth. Every fucking word of it.

  The next page was the last one with writing. In simple print, perfectly centered, were three words:

  I fear nothing.

  The remaining pages were blank.

  I wondered if Charley still heard Nil, or if she ever did. I wondered if she was fearless. And I wondered if I’d have the guts to ask her.

  In seventeen days, I’d find out.

  CHAPTER

  16

  RIVES

  DAY 243, DUSK

  Nil’s unknowns had me jacked.

  Tonight was my third Nil Night as Leader in the weeks since I’d taken Thad’s place—but it was the first where I couldn’t relax. The drive to unlock Nil’s secrets was a thirst I couldn’t slake, like the island held the perfect well of answers if I could just find it.

  I was constantly looking. Constantly paying attention.

  It was exhausting.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  The moon curved overhead, an arc of white sliced from Nil black. Stars glittered; they knit together into familiar constellations that lulled you into thinking you were safe. Black rocks circled the beachside firepit. Lit torches formed the outer ring, pockets of flame burning holes in the night. Black sky, black air. Black rocks. Nil at night was a dark, dark place.

  By the firepit, Nikolai and Alexei sat so close their hips touched, heads together as they talked. Alexei smiled. Ahmad joked with Kiera and Raj. Michael stared at the fire, face intense. Other groups of twos and threes stood listening.

  Dex played a pair of drums, rocking out with homemade sticks. Sweat glistened on his forehead as his hands moved to music locked deep in his head; he drummed with his eyes closed. Jillian sat beside him, mixing it up with gourd seed shakers; Zane played a primitive ukulele. On his left, Macy sang, deep and soulful, an island Etta James.

  Her last note trailed off. People raised cups and cheered; Dex waved a stick in thanks. As the hoots died down, I whistled, hard.

  All heads turned toward me.

  “We’ve had a big few weeks. First, a farewell. The best kind.” I raised my cup and smiled. “To Thad, who kept us safe and kept us together. And to Charley, who connected lost dots and improved our chances. To T and C.” I lifted my cup higher amid cheers and whoops. “Second, a welcome. To Nikolai, Kiera, and Alexei, we’re glad you’re here even though we’re sorry you’re here. I promise we’ll do all we can to help you get home.”

  Alexei raised his cup; Nikolai didn’t move. Kiera’s eyes held mine as she mouthed merci. Fresh weight settled on my shoulders where my dreads used to be. So many eyes, all looking to me for guidance and hope and direction in a place where the default was simply run.

  I refocused.

  “A few more things. Nil is now a serious cat preserve. Two lions and one leopard are confirmed. No word on whether the tiger is still around. Remember, they usually don’t mess with us if we don’t mess with them, so give the big cats some distance. We also have a rhino and at least one very ugly hyena, so be aware. Stay alert, especially for those going on Search tomorrow. Two teams head out at dawn. Johan, with Jason as Spotter and Miya and Julio as support. Raj has Pari as Spotter and Carlos as support. That’s it.” I raised my cup. “Focus on the good, live in the moment. To now.”

  To now, the City chorused.

  The ghosts of friends hung in the evening breeze.

  I tilted my head toward the night. Images flickered inside my brain, flashing like falling stars. I fought to grab one; it was a piece of the island puzzle.

  “Hey.” Kiera’s voice next to me shattered my mental mojo.

  The fragile outline disintegrated. Gone.

  I sighed.

  “How long have you been here, Rives?” On her lips, my name had a French lilt, a familiar cadence I hadn’t heard in months.

  “Two hundred forty-three days.”

  “So long,” she murmured in French. “So the Search system. Aren’t you cutting it close? What about just building a raft?”

  I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. “Rafts don’t work. The ocean always sends them back. The gates are our ticket home, and the Search system gives us the best shot at finding one. Plus, it keeps us alive until we can catch a gate.”

  My answer seemed to satisfy her.

  “You’re a great Leader, Rives.” Kiera smiled at me, but her gaze didn’t draw me in. No spark, no heat. I wasn’t looking for an island fling; I never had been. I wasn’t even sure if I was reading her right. All I knew was that her eyes held some form of want and I had nothing to give.

  “Thanks,” I said, wanting distance. Needing it. I stood. “I’d better go earn my keep.” I smiled casually, the sort of smile that meant nothing. “If you have more questions about Search, you can ask me, Dex, or Jason. Or Jillian. She knows a ton. Probably more than me.”

  Jillian leaned over. “Still a no, Rives,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Eavesdropper.” I laughed.

  Abruptly, my spine prickled, like I had eyes on my back. I grabbed a lit torch and turned.

  “Where are you going?” Jillian asked.

  “Just checking things out.”

  Behind me, Kiera whispered, “He takes his job seriously, doesn’t he?”

  I didn’t linger to hear Jillian’s response. Because someone blended with the tree line, watching. I felt his eyes; I felt him.

  It was the inked kid watching us, or maybe he was just watching me.

  I strode toward the trees, toward the darkest swath camouflaged in night. Unfortunately, my torch telegraphed exactly where I was heading, because when I got there, the dense spot was empty. No one waiting. No one watching. But he’d been here; I sensed it.

  I turned back, toward the beach. From where I stood, I had a clear view of the firepit through the trees. Careful not to set the trees on fire, I pointed my torch in all directions, trying to see where he’d gone. Nothing. No broken branches, no tells.

  No blazes.

  But when I looked down, a pale object glinted in the moonlight. Kneeling, I picked it up. A piece of bleached wood, carved into a crescent moon.

  Dropped by accident? I wondered. Or left on purpose?

  Another question, no answer.

  Carving in hand, I strolled toward the water, absorbing every sound, every sight. The booming salt spray, the clear night. The endless sea, leading nowhere I could go. The waves whispered, but too many voices in my head crowded out any shot at personal clarity. Johan urging, Be wary. The tatted-up boy warning, Don’t go back. Jillian saying, Don’t be stupid, and Talla whispering, Be fearless.

  Kiera challenging, You don’t have an accent.

  You don’t know me, I thought.

  Who does? the sea hissed.

  I couldn’t answer the ocean’s question. The person I’d been 243 days ago was slipping away, leaching from me like my time on Nil. Lately I’d even questioned myself. I questioned my motivation, my insane need for answers driving my moves with a compulsion I couldn’t fight. I didn’t know whether it was selfless, or selfish.

  I held the crescent moon carving as the real crescent moon shone high. The horizon was lost to the night. Each wave rolled like a shadow, inky black,
toward me. Above the water, stars huddled in brilliant groups.

  I closed my eyes and the mental dots exploded into shapes. The waves. The moon. The constellations.

  The ink on the boy’s arm.

  Lines of black waves, the single crescent moon, the interlocking diamonds. Shapes in the sky, shapes on his arm. Shapes in the cavern. All a crisp match.

  Then I had epiphany number two.

  I strode to the backside of the Wall, where most marks weren’t crosses or checks, but a mysterious mix of suns, stars, and crescent moons—exactly like the moon I held in my hand.

  Get ready, mystery man, I thought, squeezing the wood. It’s time to turn the tables. Because I’m not just coming for Nil, I’m coming for you too.

  I buried the thought that ever since I’d woken under the Nil sky, time had never been on my side.

  And then somebody screamed.

  CHAPTER

  17

  SKYE

  DECEMBER 5, MORNING

  As I drove toward Charley’s house, I was as nervous as the morning before a final exam. We’d flown into Atlanta last night, and today I’d talk with Charley if all went according to plan.

  To be honest, my plan was a little weak.

  I’d decided the best way to approach Charley was to catch her on her way home from school Friday afternoon. Dad didn’t teach on Fridays, so he enthusiastically went along with my idea. Suddenly I was the one steering the crazy train.

  At least I knew what she looked like.

  The international press ran pictures of her with each article, which helped, and having read each one, I had to admit her story was freaky. Star athlete, star student, heavily recruited by major universities to play volleyball, Charley was that girl who had it all going for her, then she disappeared without a trace, only to pop up months later in a foreign country, with no explanation given for her absence. According to the articles, she didn’t even have a passport.

  Weird.

  Like Uncle Scott weird.

  I wondered if she had a journal.

  Unfortunately, Charley didn’t have school on Friday, or maybe she just ditched. She never left the house. I lurked in our rental car in a creepy teen version of a stakeout, while Dad hung out in the hotel. I wondered if I’d missed her, guiltily thinking of the few times I’d zoned out. I returned to the hotel Friday night empty-handed except for Uncle Scott’s journal.