Chapter 8
CHAPTER
THAD
The mood in the City sucked. Even for Nil, it was a new low.
I lay there, hating Nil for the torture. For the constant mental merry-go-round. For the current City vibe, which was one body short of a burial. The wait for news on Kevin was killing us, which was probably the point.
After grabbing breakfast, I strode to the Wall. So many names, too many names. All gouged into the wood, first names only. I checked out Kevin’s, like maybe good news had come in the night, even though I knew it hadn’t. Of course the space beside his name sat empty. Waiting, like us.
Finding my name, I tapped each letter, too restless today to trace. Then I tapped my blank space. No cross, no check. I’m still here. Then I glanced back at Kevin’s. No check, no cross. But he’s gone.
Like Ramia.
Please not like Ramia.
Eight months after she vanished, Ramia was still MIA. No body, no clue. And eight months later, her final words still weirded me out.
For the first time, I wondered if Ramia had predicted Kevin’s fate, too.
It doesn’t matter; it means nothing. It was the same pep talk I gave myself whenever I thought of Ramia, which happened more often than I cared to admit. Pushing Ramia and crosses and every other Nil negative from my head, I ditched the Wall and went to collect my board.
The Shack was deserted. I didn’t go inside; I didn’t need to. All our boards were racked outside, and right now I had tunnel vision. But as I hefted my favorite plank, I sensed I was being watched. Turning in a slow circle, I scoped out my perimeter.
Clear. No movement, no people.
I chalked my jitters up to lack of sleep and went to find Jason.
He was down by the water, chunking rocks into the sea, lips in a line. Jason was the oldest thirteen-year-old I knew. Kevin had looked after Jason like a big brother, and nearly two weeks after Kevin bailed, I still wasn’t used to seeing Jason alone.
“Hey, man,” I said when I was in range. “You ready?” I gestured to my surfboard.
“Yeah.” Jason hauled off and threw his last rock. The black piece flew and fell. He watched it disappear, then without a word, he picked up his board and followed me into the water.
The waves were solid five-footers, but a relentless crosswind made them bumpy.
As I made the drop, if I closed my eyes, just for a second it was like shooting down a double black at Whistler.
It didn’t scratch my snowboarding itch, not even close, but this was Nil, and I’d take what I could get.
Still, I kept my closure to an extended blink.
Like Kevin told me on Day One, Nil demanded eyes wide open.
The current moved fast, pulling us south.
At this rate, we’d end up down by Black Bay, a long trek back with a board—especially one made of solid wood like ours were—and we still had to fish.
I’d just made the call to go in when a faint scream sliced across the water.
Then it vanished, disappearing like backspray gusting off a wave.
Board held tight, I searched for the screamer.
Talla was paddling out, mouth closed. One look at her typical game face told me it wasn’t her.
Back on the beach, Rives led a crew in wind sprints, running balls to the wall, working on speed. Nothing unusual there. No one screaming like a girl.
Then I realized if someone had screamed, I wouldn’t have heard it over the surf.
Get out of my head, Nil.
I signaled to Jason and pointed toward shore.
He gave me a thumbs-up. As I dragged my board through the froth, I glanced toward Black Bay, the scream lingering in my ears like water I couldn’t clear.
Or maybe that was Nil. New teams had launched, Kevin was still MIA, and Nat refused to budge.
And then there was me, wired so tight that I was hearing things.
Ten minutes later, nets in hand and minds on edge, Jason and I made tracks for the pools.
Our fish pools are ingenious, no credit to me. They were here when I got here, and they’ll stay when I leave. Black rock pools that fill with the tides. Slam the reed door traps, and spearfishing’s as easy as shooting fish in a barrel, which essentially was the plan.
But something pulled me to the Bay.
“How ’bout this,” I told Jason. “Let’s head to Black Bay first, look for redfruit, then we’ll fish on the way back. Sound good?”
Jason nodded, and in that moment, I knew he wanted to avoid the City as much as I did.
We cut inland, took the path through the cliff, then popped out near the Bay.
The first clump of redfruit trees was loaded, but the fruit was still green, so we kept walking.
Sand crunched under our feet, like an endless stretch of broken shark’s teeth.
Chunkier than the white sand near the City, this sand was as black as night, as black as death. Classic Nil beauty.
“It’s mighty quiet,” Jason commented, his head on a swivel.
I stopped immediately. “Hold up,” I said, raising one hand.
We stood perfectly still. Without our footfalls, the beach was cemetery quiet. Possibly Nil-up-to-something quiet. I swept the air, then the trees, looking for movement. Eyes wide open.
Up ahead, a bush jerked and snapped back, a motion too sharp to be wind.
“Jason,” I said, pulling my knife, “movement. Ten meters, straight ahead. Come to my other side, okay?”
Jason moved immediately. “Person?” he whispered. “Or animal?”
Person, place, thing, or animal? my mind asked. A game I played as a kid. Not so fun on Nil. I’d take person over animal any day, and both over a thing. Like I’d figured out early on, it was the things that could kill you. Place was the only category not in question. That answer was always Nil.
“Don’t know,” I said. “Something. Maybe nothing.”
Walking again, I kept my eyes trained on the spot where I’d seen movement.
The same bush swayed. A definite movement, more like a parting. My fingers choked down on my knife.
“Something’s coming,” I told Jason.
The bush shifted sideways, and a figure stepped out. A girl. Tall, lean. Long legs, long muscles. Great shoulders. Full lips. Even though she looked island-thin, she was hands-down the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.
And she was wearing Kevin’s clothes.