Chapter 59
CHAPTER
THAD
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 faster.
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.
“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 and 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.”