CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER
RIVES
It was all me, trekking solo.
The last time I’d been this far inland without backup was the day I’d arrived. Just like then, I had zero food, but unlike that hellacious first day, now I had supplies and clothes. Nudity didn’t bother me, but that didn’t mean I wanted to walk around with my junk on display, either.
Because of Charley’s escape, I even hauled an extra pair of shorts.
I’d taken for granted that I’d have Charley beside me on the return trip. Taken for granted that she’d be my Second, maybe even the next Leader. Taken for granted that she’d help me decode the rest of Nil, uncovering the secrets that made Nil tick.
Because I knew Nil was holding back.
Memories flashed, a million fractured mental pixels. Talla laughing, her blue eyes fierce. Talla whispering, “Be fearless, Rives.” Talla silent, lifeless in my arms.
I needed to stop taking things for granted. Like time, and people.
Got it, Nil, I thought.
I guess I was just a slow learner.
I glanced around, and struck by fierce island déjà vu, I laughed.
I was retracing my steps from my Day One.
Same solitary hike, right down to the afternoon arrival.
I’d woken in this black rock field months ago and made it to the City by nightfall; I’d now spent 241 consecutive days in this deadly arena, more consecutive days than I’d spent in any one place ever.
Staying in one place so long implied roots, at least to me.
But I damn sure wouldn’t call Nil home.
Nil was more like purgatory, a place trapped between Heaven and Hell, with heavy doses of both. Maybe Nil was the devil’s playground, maybe it was Heaven’s testing ground. Maybe it was both. Or neither. Nobody stuck here had a clue.
But lately I was desperate to find one.
Surviving wasn’t enough anymore; I had to know why I was here. Why we all were here.
Focus, Rives.
Daydreaming was a dangerous pastime on Nil. Then again, daydreaming was risky anywhere. Daydreaming was what landed me here in the first place, that and blowing off my dad’s advice.
Memories ripped through my head, moments I hadn’t replayed in months.
Landing in Phuket. My dad laughing, my mom kissing his cheek. The slowing whir of the plane’s engines, the lazy wink of the hot flight attendant. The sleek feel of my sick new Canon with a telephoto lens. The annoying weight of the mandatory books on Thai history and culture.
Part extended vacation, part work trip for my dad, it was the three of us, as always.
Dad was researching a Thai crime ring, a massive operation with international ramifications and disturbing political ties, or so he’d said.
The engine’s drone faded, and my dad had seized the vacuum of that moment.
Look around, he’d counseled as the plane taxied to a stop.
Watch the people. Watch the cues. And watch your back.
Never forget you’re a foreigner. Never take your security for granted.
Inattentiveness means missed chances and lost opportunities.
But, worse, it puts you at risk. Then his eyes had softened. Got it, son?
Sure, Dad, I’d said.
I wondered if he’d known then I was all talk.
The next day, I’d gone to Freedom Beach to take pictures. I was checking out some girls chilling on the sand, watching their butts and not my own. A gate caught me from behind; I hadn’t seen it coming.
Got it now, Dad, I thought grimly.
On Nil, inattentiveness could get you killed.
I shifted my full focus to my surroundings, to the general post-quake status. Clear sky, solid ground. No movement.
A kilometer away, a black rhino marked the intersection of the red and black flows, his head swung toward me. Sweeping wide, I gave him all the space he needed, opting for the “I won’t mess with you if you don’t mess with me” approach.
The rhino didn’t budge.
Win for me, but the closer I got to the City, the more uneasy I grew. No people, no animals. No movement at all. Enough nothing to put me on edge.
Stillness on Nil was like the calm before the storm; stillness here felt weighted.
Every muscle tensed, the island’s weight pressing on me.
Then I saw it: two skinny boys, dressed in City garb, sprinting barefoot through the Flower Field, running away from the City, carting nets. Our nets. The ones Miya just finished last week.
“Hey,” I shouted, taking off in their direction. “Stop!”
Of course the boys didn’t stop; they didn’t even turn. And then they were gone, lost in ribbons of color.
I’d never gotten close.
My concern for the City jacked up to panic level.
I spun back around and stopped. A boy built like a man stood at the edge of the field.
His skin matched mine, only his upper left arm and shoulder were laced with lines and swirls of crisp black ink.
He wore a ring of flowers around his neck and a brown loincloth low on his waist. A homemade spear in his hand flowed like a deadly extension of him.
Facing the field, he studied the raiders’ retreat.
Friend or foe?
Like he’d sensed my thoughts, our eyes met, and I’d swear his held pity. He turned away first. Away from the City, away from the field, moving toward the southern tip. And then he disappeared into the island like he belonged.
My grip on Nil wavered in the wake of today’s noon.
Charley always joked that I was Thad’s wingman, but he’d also been mine, and his absence felt like a hole in the fabric of the island itself.
Possibly a tear in the fabric of me. I’d never realized how heavily I relied on Thad’s guidance, or his friendship.
Nil was different now. More dangerous, with more variables, and fewer people to lean on to work it all out.
Now I had confirmed raiders, a loner, a new Second to appoint, and a City to hold together in the quake’s aftermath.
At least I had brought good news back.
The deadleaf plants at the City’s edge greeted me first, their bright green leaves broadcasting danger.
Green usually meant go, but with these plants it meant death.
One plant was trampled, its cracked leaves limp and weeping.
I noticed it even as I avoided it, my dad’s training instinctual.
Pay attention, Rives. Notice what others ignore.
It’s what made him an Emmy-nominated journalist, and it’s what made me notice the small things.
The odd things, the things out of place—even people.
People in the wrong place at the right time, people with tells, tics giving away truths.
Eyes wide open, Thad used to say. I’d smile, even as I’d thought, Always.
Inside the perimeter, the City was organized chaos.
I slowed, relieved to find that no one seemed hurt and all huts were intact.
The chicken coop was already reinforced with fresh hemp twine and new logs.
By my count only one chicken was lost. The goats roamed loose.
One currently nosed around the firepit’s edge, scavenging the last of the fish wraps.
Thank God for Dex.
He stood on a black boulder directing salvage teams, his tattoos adding an air of tribal authority to his gestures.
Ink was the one accessory that made it to Nil, and Dex’s was impressive.
Skulls and words paired with flaming crosses and bloody daggers wove together across his torso like a painted shirt, one jacked with color.
Now that I’d seen the kid by the Flower Field, Dex’s tats screamed hard-core rocker rather than tribal statesman. To Dex’s credit, he held the City’s attention like a lead act.
Seeing me, he raised his hand, his expression hopeful.
“He made it.” I gave a double thumbs-up. “Thad’s gone.”
Jason covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking.
My heart twisted. He’d seen more death than any fourteen-year-old should ever see.
Miya gently rested her small hand on his shoulder, as if passing on her quiet strength to him.
As I watched her, my heart twisted again, for a different reason.
Because of a different person.
Around Jason, people hooted; Ahmad hugged Jillian; Julio threw his fist in the air as Johan crossed himself, smiling.
Macy beamed. Zane, Michael, and a few others clapped, almost politely.
They’d barely known Thad. A dark-haired girl with a purple flower tucked behind one ear stood quietly, shoulders back, chin lifted, no clapping. Sy looked relieved.
Dex hopped down and strode over. “Where’s Charley?”
“Gone,” I said. “Nil sent a triple. Charley caught a ride home, too.”
Dex’s eyes widened. “A triple? And both Thad and Charley made it? Blimey. Did you go for the third?”
“Never had the chance. Thad missed the first one, so they took the next two.” I smiled. “Not my noon, bro.” I glanced toward the Flower Field. “Or the City’s. I just saw two raiders sprinting east, and they were hauling our nets.”
Dex groaned. “Tell me they weren’t the new cast nets?”
“Yup.”
“Bloody bastards,” Dex fumed. “We need those nets.” He ran a hand through his half-bleached hair, frustration written all over his face.
“We’ll need to set up watch on the Shack again.” I sighed. “We can’t afford to lose supplies to raiders.”
“Maybe.” Dex looked thoughtful. “But the nets weren’t at the Shack. They were hanging by the firepit to dry.” He mumbled a string of expletives, all starting with the word bloody.
By the firepit. Near the trampled deadleaf bush.
I dropped my gear and took off at a full sprint, retracing my steps to the Flower Field, but this time I went farther. This time I went into the field, starting at the point closest to the City, tracking the trail of crushed flowers.
Sloppy, I thought. But helpful.
“What is it?” Jason asked. He’d followed me soundlessly. His innate stealth put the raiders’ clumsiness to shame.
I didn’t answer until I saw what I was looking for: a large brown net, abandoned in the field, its weight flattening a swath of purple. “Just recovering stolen goods. Sit tight.”