by Loren Walker
“Should we tell Tehmi what’s going on?” CaLarca finally spoke up. “They might be mad.”
“We’re only supposed to wake them up if it’s an emergency,” Marette reminded her.
“Yeah, but it’s - I don’t know - wrong, isn’t it? Kuri’s so old.”
“So is Joran,” Marette said with a sniff. “Tehmi’s not much older than we are. So why would they care?”
CaLarca suddenly felt very naïve. “I guess you’re right.”
“What are you doing to do when you get out of here?” Marette continued. “Me and Shantou are going to use our money to travel and sing. We’ll be famous. That’s the only thing I can think about. Just two more months and total freedom. Not even our parents can stop us, not with the money. We can do whatever we want. What about you?”
“I don’t know yet,” CaLarca said. She had been so consumed with the experiments that she barely thought about the outside. In a way, she forgot that they were all supposed to leave at some point and go back to their lives.
“You should think big,” Marette told her. “We can do anything. Look how much we’re changing. Do you know what we could do on the outside? I could do Nadi demonstrations while I perform. Shantou could read the thoughts around people and sing the songs they want to hear most. It’ll be easy to be famous, y’know? We can do anything. We can be higher than everyone else.”
Discomfort thickened in CaLarca’s chest. “I think we should go to sleep,” she said, seeing the look of disappointment on Marette’s face. “Stay if you want, but I’m going to sleep.”
The girl stayed in the armchair. Soon, Marette’s breathing grew heavy, and CaLarca knew she was free, but her mind was racing.
How would her parents react on her return? What if they found out that she was heightening her gifts, instead of learning how to eradicate them? What if they found out about the money? Was she really what Marette said, higher than everyone else? Like a god? Is that what they all were now?
We can’t go back, she realized. We’re different now. We can never go back.
*
“I said no!” Ganasan shouted. “And I won’t say it again!”
Everyone turned at the sound. The boy stood before Kuri, his fists clenched. Kuri took a step back, surprise on his face. Noting the response from the room, he raised his hands. “We’re just talking,” he announced.
“You’re supposed to focus on your own group’s activities,” Joran spoke out, his voice booming.
Kuri’s eyes narrowed. “I’m trying to help him.” He addressed the boy again. “Gani, just go and ask Shantou. She did it, and it didn’t hurt.”
“Don’t call me Gani,” the boy snapped. “I don’t care. You’re not doing it, no matter what you threaten.”
Everyone wore the same look of shock. Ganasan is stronger than he looks, CaLarca thought.
Though, from the anger on Kuri’s face, he wasn’t used to being told the word ‘no.’
“You realize that I could just do it if I wanted to, and you couldn’t stop me,” Kuri told the boy.
“Stop it!” came Tehmi’s voice as she crossed the room. She stood in front of Ganasan, one hand on her pregnant belly, the other outstretched to shield him. “He said no. Leave him alone. I mean it. He has a choice whether to -”
“Does he?” came Zarek’s retort, surprising them all. “Does he really?”
Tehmi lowered her hand. For a split second, CaLarca saw a wash of fear come over the woman. “Of course,” she finally said. “He’s just a child.”
“Unfortunate for them to be involved in this,” the bearded man said. There was a strange, flat tone to his voice. “But they are, and we are, and we both know that there’s no freedom, Tehmi. You and Joran made sure of that.”
“You all agreed to a contract,” Joran announced, with the slightest shake to his words. “To payment, for three months of service, under the rules given to you on entry. Behave yourself, and step away from each other. Now!”
Tehmi gasped then, her hands dropping to her stomach. Joran darted to her side, ignoring Zarek and Kuri, who stood together, watching. In the midst of all of this, CaLarca saw Yann, the quiet balding man, leaving the room.
*
Something was changing. Maybe it was the lack of fresh air. Maybe it was simple cabin fever, the difficulty of nine personalities forced to live with each other. But there were more and more conflicts. No one was willing to stay in their designated groups. Cliques began to form. The schedule grew fluid, and then non-existent. On day, CaLarca caught Shantou, Kuri and Zarek in one of the small bedrooms, whispering amongst themselves. They noticed CaLarca lurking outside, and gestured for her to join them. She was so startled that she ran back to her room and locked the door.
The next time it happened, CaLarca joined them. She couldn’t help it. She was growing more and more afraid. Joran and Tehmi refused to talk about anything other than getting back on track with the curriculum, yelling more and more, threatening punishments, storming away, hissing at each other like angry parents.
Zarek closed the door behind her. Shantou and Kuri were holding hands on the bed.
“I have a favor to ask of you, CaLarca,” Zarek began. “You’re always wandering. You know every corner of this place, I’d wager.”
“I can’t break out of here, if that’s what you want,” CaLarca said haughtily.
Zarek let out a bark of laughter. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you.”
Then his smile faded. “But powerful. One of the most powerful ones here. What do you think about this experiment, CaLarca?”
“I don’t know,” CaLarca said sullenly. “It’s fine.”
“And what do you think about our hosts?”
“They’re okay.”
“You can sense lies,” Zarek said. “You told me once, in conference. That’s related to Nadi, but you’ve developed some Eko talents, I believe.”
“I - maybe.” That was true. Something had shifted in her over the course of the week. Her hearing seemed to sharpen. Whispers of thoughts hovered around her. She had been too scared to tell anyone.
“It’s okay. We’re the same as you,” Zarek told her gently. “We’re changing too. Growing stronger. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
CaLarca couldn’t think of what else to do but nod.
“But for what purpose?” His voice was smooth. “Why are we here?”
“To learn from each other,” she recited.
“And then what?”
“We… go home.”
“Do you really think that’s the truth? At the end of this, we just leave? Go our own separate ways, with a bag full of rana and powerful abilities? Is that logical?”
“I - I don’t know.” She was starting to feel sick.
“Where’s Joran right now, CaLarca?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere, of course.”
“I would wager,” Zarek corrected. “If you searched all three floors, you wouldn’t find a trace of him.”
CaLarca shrugged. “Well, that’s not possible.”
Zarek ignored her response. “Were you put to sleep when you first arrived, for medical testing?”
Instinctively, CaLarca’s hand went to the back of her head. The headache had dulled after a few days, and she hadn’t thought about it since. Zarek mirrored her movement. So did Shantou and Kuri, lifting their hands to the napes.
“Something was implanted in us,” Zarek said. “I’ve become sure of it.”
Stricken, CaLarca rubbed at the base of her skull, searching. There was nothing, not a nub, or an edge, or even a bump. No pain, no swelling, nothing. This couldn’t be happening. What did they do to her? What did they do to all of them?
“I - I can’t - I don’t want to talk about this,” she announced, stumbling over her feet, backing away from the group.
“You will,” Zarek’s voice floated after her. “Soon enough, you will.”
*
Candlelight. The twins gathered around a doorframe, c
ooing. CaLarca peered inside the room. Tehmi was sitting in bed, propped with pillows, holding a tiny, mewling baby. Yann was next to her, bundling sheets into a ball, putting away medical tools. He was a doctor? She never knew that.
“What’s her name?” she asked instead.
“Sydel,” Tehmi said with a tired smile. “I think Sydel.”
“Congratulations,” came Kuri’s sneer from behind.
Tehmi’s smile dropped. With an effort, she put it back on.
Her face blurred, and then the world shifted back to darkness.
Then Shantou’s flushed, haunted face hovered over CaLarca’s.
“Get up,” the redhaired girl panted. “Get up and come with me.”
Tehmi’s face looked like she was about to gulp in a breath. But she didn’t inhale. She didn’t blink. She was sprawled across the bed, one hand hanging limp over the edge. In the thin opening of her eyes, the whites were bloodshot. Kuri was in the corner, wringing his hands, tears on his cheeks. The baby whimpered in its bassinet. CaLarca didn’t dare to move, or even breathe.
“Can you take the baby?” Shantou interrupted her horror.
The baby wailed, a long, keening cry. CaLarca ran over and slid her hands underneath the warm swaddling, placing Sydel against her shoulder.
“It was an accident,” Kuri said shakily. “If she didn’t fight me so hard, and just told me the truth - it wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Shantou soothed him.
“You were in her head, weren’t you?” CaLarca accused, clutching the baby to her chest. “Like you were trying to do to Ganasan. You pushed into her mind too far. You killed her!”
“If she had just told me where the secret exit is,” Kuri rambled. “If she told me what their plans were, what they put in our heads –“
Was this really happening? The darkness that surrounded them, the lone candlelight, it was like some surreal dream.
“It’s time to leave.” Zarek’s voice floated through the shadows. He stood by the doorframe, surveying the scene without expression. His beard concealed the features, darkened the shadows of his face. He didn’t look kind and fatherly anymore.
His eyes fastened on hers. “Help us, CaLarca. Free us.”
CaLarca shook her head violently, clutching the baby to her.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Shantou said, a nasty edge to her voice. “We need to think about what to say to Joran.”
Zarek ignored her, focusing on CaLarca. “You don’t want to stay,” he said quietly. “You want to run away and forget that any of this ever happened. You want to forget about all of us. Start your life over, on your terms, not theirs, or your parents. Yours. Let it go. You know you want to.”
A spot of black appeared in the corner of CaLarca’s eye. She clung to the baby for warmth, for a tether. Her chest felt like it was in a vice. But she couldn’t help the words from spilling out. “The stairwell. Third floor platform. I think there’s a secret door.”
Tears welled in her eyes. The pressure in her chest ceased.
Zarek smiled. “Good girl.”
CaLarca ran away, ran down the hallway, vomit high in her throat, the baby’s wet face against her neck. She hit two bodies, warm and soft, with an oof! The baby wailed.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
It was Yann’s voice, Marette’s pale face at his side. CaLarca’s thoughts were a mad spiral. They were together. Them too? Was everyone sleeping together in this place?
But they weren’t part of that group, at least. The lesser evil.
CaLarca held the baby out. “Take her,” she ordered. “Take care of her.”
Yann immediately put his hands out for the baby. “What did they do?”
For the first time, CaLarca really looked at Yann: his long face, how his hairline was gently receding, how he was much younger than she initially thought. He cradled Sydel, tightening her swaddle, patting her on the back.
“It’s over,” CaLarca told them, her teeth chattering. “It’s over. They’re - ”
The stairwell. CaLarca ran past Yann and Marette, peering through the access door. On the bottom floor, where there was once a solid red wall of rock, now there was a gaping, black hole. A secret door. She slumped. She was right. There was a way out of here all along.
“Over?” Marette was hissing behind her. “What’s going on?”
CaLarca ignored her and took hold of Yann’s sleeve, opposite the baby. “Maybe Tehmi is still alive,” she offered. Tears choked her voice. “I couldn’t tell. But maybe?”
Yann backed away, the white bundle against his chest.
CaLarca stared at the black hole in the stairwell. The others were already gone, wherever the tunnel went on the other side. Where would she go? Should she try to stop them? Could she? It was over. It was all over. She put her hand on the door to push it open.
A hand grabbed hers from behind, small, hot and sweaty. Yelping, CaLarca tried to wrench away, but it held fast.
Ganasan’s face floated before her in the darkness. “It’s me!” he whispered. “What are you doing?”
Catching her breath, CaLarca looked past him into the corridor. Yann, Marette and Sydel were gone. “It’s over,” she told the boy. “We have to get as far away from here as fast as possible.”
Ganasan didn’t seem fazed. He just nodded, and gripped her hand tighter. “Okay,” he said firmly. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
It was the last thing she expected to hear in that moment. “You’ll - what?” she finally sputtered.
“I will. I know I’m only eleven, but I can do it. Whatever it takes. You’re safe with me.”
CaLarca couldn’t find the words. Ganasan gazed up at her, six inches shorter, clasping her hand like a romantic hero.
“I can’t,” she said, removing her hand from his. “When I said we, I meant – you stay with Yann and Marette. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
She burst through the door into the stairwell, careening into the pitch black of the tunnel. The walls were rough to her touch, maybe five feet across, six feet tall, and full of dust. Coughing, CaLarca bounced off the rocks, stumbling over ridges. Her breath echoed in the darkness. There was light somewhere. There had to be light, eventually. After several long minutes, her hands scrambled over a wall; no, a door, one that moved when she pushed with all her strength.
CaLarca burst into the sun. Immediately, her eyes streamed with tears. It was so bright, too bright, too much oxygen, and she was going to faint. Groping blindly, she found a sun-hot boulder and pressed her back into it for support, panting for breath, blinking furiously, fighting the urge to sink to the ground.
When her vision finally adjusted, she realized she was on the canyon floor, surrounded by the great cliffs of the Kings Canyon. Three silhouettes stood, fifty feet away. A fourth lay on the ground. Even with blurred vision, CaLarca recognized the shade of blood.
The sound of anxious voices in the wind, coming from above. CaLarca craned her neck, squinting to look up. One hundred feet up, anxious faces peered over the edge of the cliff. A family. Four adults, four children.
“They’ve seen us,” CaLarca heard Shantou’s panicked whisper. “They don’t know what he tried to do.”
“You hold them,” Kuri hissed back. “I’ll wipe their minds. It’ll be fine.”
She couldn’t breathe. She was going to vomit. CaLarca’s knees collapsed.
Then a hand lay on top of her head as she retched, and Joran’s voice came from above:
“Run, Cyrah.”
CaLarca ran down the rocky incline, across the canyon floor, away from the pleas and screams, into the desert. She ran across plains and through oases, until her muscles collapsed under her body weight, sand pouring down her throat as she fell face-first. Then she crawled until she passed out under the blazing sun.
V.
“Enough!” CaLarca pushed Sydel out of her mind. Then she put her hands over her face.
Sydel was choked
with tears, too, by the sound of her mottled voice. “CaLarca, I’m so sorry.”
CaLarca shook her head, unable to form words.
“When I first treated you, you said you were involved in the assault of the Sava family. You weren’t. You clearly weren’t.”
“Wasn’t I?” CaLarca said through her fingers.
“You were a child.”
“I was a coward,” CaLarca muttered. “I should have done something. I should have tried to stop them.”
“Oh, CaLarca. You saved me, nonetheless.” The girl’s voice was full of gratitude. “Who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t given me to Yann.”
“Perhaps.”
Sydel brushed her hand over her face and stood up. “Thank you. Thank you for showing me the truth. I’m ready now.”
CaLarca peered through her fingers. “You’re – ready?”
“I want to meet Marette,” Sydel said firmly. “I want to help you, however I can. We’ll leave in an hour, if you think you’re strong enough.”
Despite the pain in CaLarca’s chest, her heart still leapt with excitement.
“I am,” CaLarca confirmed. “It’s just memories.”
“And the implant?”
“I don’t know,” CaLarca admitted. “I’ve never had the courage to look.”
Sydel nodded. “Maybe on the way, you might tell me more about your connection with Ganasan. It seems a positive thing.”
CaLarca shot out a hand, palm first. “I need a moment,” she barked.
“I understand. I hope I didn’t hurt you, Cyrah.”
Hearing her first name made her cringe. Sydel noticed, and her tone dropped. “I’m sorry. I won’t call you that again.”
“Thank you,” was all CaLarca could manage. Because, in the wake of Sydel’s invasion, all CaLarca was able to do was curl into a ball on her bed and throw the quilt over her head, until there was nothing but suffocating darkness. She had been exposed, so many nerves exposed, like being turned inside out, and it made her murderous and fearful and full of rage.
She had to push it all away again. She had to stick to her plan.
*