by Kristin Cast
Salmon Springs Fountain. 4:30.
—Your Neighborhood Mohawked Moleman
Elodie squealed a high-pitched bleat of excitement. She clapped her hands over her mouth. This is exactly what Astrid had mentioned.
Would you want to talk to him again in real life?
Elodie had never answered the question; instead, she’d just reported on her horrible gun-filled non-date date with Rhett. She hadn’t thought there was a reason to say anything about Mr. Mohawk, er, the Mohawked Moleman. When would she actually ever see him again?
Today. The word chimed between her ears. Four thirty. Salmon Springs Fountain.
Elodie placed the strip of paper on her textbook.
What would Vi do?
XXII
Elodie worried the edges of the folded note. No one had ever written her a note. Not a real one, using a pen and paper, that is. Actually, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember anyone who had written anything down on paper ever. That’s what Holly was for, and holopads, and, well, computers in general.
She flipped up the hood of her rain jacket and activated her Violet Shield as she passed through the automatic sets of glass doors of the downtown MediCenter building and onto the rain-slicked brick sidewalk.
The corners of the paper were furry beneath her fingers as she smoothed them over again and again. It wasn’t technically an invitation, but who went around telling people where they were going to be for no reason at all? Then again, who wrote a note and taped it to a bot? It was like something out of Death by Violet—except for the bot, of course.
Rain fell in fat droplets and lapped against her boots as she splashed through shallow puddles on the five-block walk to Waterfront Park. She slipped the note into her jacket pocket and balled her hands within the sleeves. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Elodie knew that for a fact. But if she wasn’t breaking any rules, why did she feel so . . . quaky?
Elodie shook her head. She’d never make it to the fountain if she continued down that path. Plus, there would be plenty of time to assess where her current bout of anxiety had come from as soon as she was home.
Across the street, the stretch of grass that bordered the walkway along the river’s edge sparkled vibrant green through the steady rainfall.
Okay. She was nearly there. She hadn’t stopped or convinced herself to go on home. For all the losses she’d acquired at work that morning, she was finally winning at something.
Well, almost. She still needed to cross the street. And all sorts of things happened to pedestrians. None that she could actually recall, but that didn’t mean getting flattened by the MAX or run over by a rogue Pearl wasn’t a thing.
She chewed on the corner of her nail and searched the concrete benches that surrounded Salmon Springs Fountain as she waited along with a handful of other Violet Shielded pedestrians to cross the two-lane street.
There he was, mohawk and all, casually leaning against a tree, a lightweight jacket over a tight T-shirt, no violet orb around him, without a care in the world. Like he’d somehow been able to transfer all of his emotions to her. That would explain the terrible clenching in her chest and stomach.
He pushed himself away from the tree and waved.
The pedestrian light flashed white, and Elodie suddenly had no idea what to do with her arms or her face. At least her legs were busy carrying her forward, although she’d forgotten how to walk normally, and skipped over to him. Her insides knotted, and she wished she had her backpack to hide behind. She’d left it in her locker in case they were going to go do something.
But why had she assumed they’d go do anything? What if he was trying to return something she’d dropped when they’d met, both the unofficial and official times? Crap, had she ever managed to be a normal, functioning human being when he’d been around? Or what if he was a complete weirdo like Astrid had said? He did work down in the morgue. What kind of craziness did you have to display in your testing to make them assign you to a career dealing with dead people? Part of her knew he was a bit weird (he had attached a handwritten note to a bot), but that’s what had drawn her out into the rain in only her Violet Shield, scrubs, raincoat, and boots, with the hopes of an adventure.
As she reached his side of the street, Elodie clicked the button on her wristband and the purple orb around her vanished. Rarely did anyone stray from the sidewalk that bordered the street and venture into Waterfront Park or take the path that ran along the Willamette River. Plus, it was always awkward to have a meetup with one person shielded and the other person not, and Elodie was already feeling awkward enough.
He jogged up to her, excitement stitched in the creases of his grin. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I was surprised when I, um . . .” Elodie watched the beads of water sliding down the tops of her rainboots as she fiddled with her jacket zipper. “When I got your note. The bot and everything. It was different.”
His worn boots creaked as he shifted. A muddy shadow spread against the pavement where his foot had been before the smudge was pulled away by the steady stream of rainwater seeking out the nearest drain. “Different, huh?”
She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. “Not different in a bad way. It was just different in a different way.” She winced. “I mean, no one has ever sent me a note before.” Heat crept up her neck. “People have sent me notes before. I get them all the time.” Warmth pricked her cheeks. “Not all the time, all the time. Just some of the time. Like, a normal amount of notes a normal amount of the time.” Her mouth went dry and her tongue felt glued to her teeth. “Sorry, what I’m trying to say is that I liked it.” A stray raindrop landed on her cheek. She brushed it away before it had a chance to sizzle and evaporate against her fiery flesh. “The paper and the bot. Very clever and unexpected.” She sighed, and finally met his gaze. “It was nice.”
His eyes searched hers, and she felt the sudden urge to zip up her coat and pull the bungees on her hood until only the tip of her nose was visible. She wasn’t going to do it, of course. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself. Not to mention the fact that she had also criticized the very cute thing that he had done.
He was probably trying to come up with an excuse to leave.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “There’s nothing wrong with different.” He rocked his head from side to side as if weighing the words. “At least, there shouldn’t be.”
Elodie exhaled completely for the first time that day.
“I’m Aiden, by the way,” he offered as he turned and clomped back toward the grass. “Not that you can’t call me Your Neighborhood Mohawked Moleman,” he tossed over his shoulder as he motioned for her to follow. “I just figured you’d want something a little more”—he hiked his shoulders—“formal.”
Soggy grass squished under Elodie’s boots as she trailed behind him through the trees. “Elodie. Elodie Benavidez.” She paused alongside him as he surveyed the expansive Willamette River.
“Benavidez. Is that Spanish?”
Elodie picked at her fingernails. “I think so. My dad used to try to teach me, but what’s the point in learning a language that Cerberus took down with it?”
Aiden’s gaze brushed over her. “To respect it, I suppose. I mean, it is a part of you.”
Goosebumps popped along Elodie’s arms. It was hard to think about the pieces that made up who she was when so much of the past had been gone for so long, weakened by Cerberus and put out of sight by the Key—to keep everyone strong, and safe, and the same, united. There was comfort in unity and comfort in knowing that only here and now remained. Only here and now mattered.
Aiden ran his hands along the faded sides of his curly mohawk. “This place is gorgeous.” With a sudden jolt of energy, he jogged across the lawn past the trees and halted at the thick stone balustrade that guarded the abrupt drop off along the edge of the dark rolling
sheet of the river.
The ground squelched as she closed the distance between them.
He rested his elbows against the gray stone. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
Elodie tried to follow his line of sight, squinting as she looked up the river. “I don’t think I’m seeing it.”
“Sure you are.” He pressed his palms against the rain-soaked rock and nodded toward the steady flow of gray water. “Sometimes I feel like no one looks at where we live. They see it, but they don’t really see it. You know?”
The swollen droplets had ceased, leaving behind a cool mist on Elodie’s skin as she watched the churning waters patiently carve out a home through the heart of the city. On the far shore, the tree-lined Riverwalk wound past sculptures and beneath bridges.
Elodie’s hair began to curl in the constant moisture, and she tucked it behind her ears.
She’d lived in Westfall her whole life and had never stopped to look at what was around her. She’d been too busy constructing a life as empty and hollow as VR.
Aiden ground the toe of his boot against the pavement. “It probably sounds crazy—”
“No.” And if it was, Elodie needed a little bit of crazy in her life. “You’re right.”
A grin plumped his cheeks. “Ever been skateboarding?”
She blinked at the sudden change in tempo. Or maybe it wasn’t an abrupt shift as much as it was a snapshot of the way Aiden viewed the world, like everything could at once be appreciated and playful; understood, yet still a question.
Elodie shook her head. “I usually go skiing or climbing. I went horseback riding once, but it was before all the updates, so it was kind of lame.”
“No, I mean, in real life?” He dug around the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a thick, black rectangle, and dropped it onto the sidewalk. The lone pedestrian quickly passing by didn’t seem to notice when the box landed on the concrete with a loud thud. “Tap it,” he said with a slight nod toward the box. “With your foot.”
Elodie’s toes squished together in the tip of her rainboot. “What will it do?”
He tilted his chin. “Guess you’re about to find out.”
With the quickness of a snake strike, Elodie kicked out her foot, tapped the box with the thick toe of her boot, and recoiled.
The box flattened against the sidewalk as it unfolded into a smooth concave deck with rounded ends.
“No way.” Elodie’s fingers flew to her smile as the board popped up off the ground and a set of chunky neon green wheels appeared on either end. “Where did you find that?”
“You can find anything if you’re willing to look hard enough.” Aiden’s gaze, deep and warm and sparking with secrets, found hers. “Having a few engineer friends helps too.”
Elodie’s cheeks were hot again, and she pulled her attention to the skateboard. “Are you going to . . .” she shrugged and tentatively tapped the lip of the board with her foot. “Ride it, or something?”
“I’m not, but you are.” He pushed the board in Elodie’s direction. A leaf stuck to one of its neon wheels and deposited it at her feet as it rolled to a stop.
Elodie pulled her arms further up her sleeves. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you.” Aiden brushed his hand through his mohawk. Rain sprung from his tight curls and dusted the air like glitter. “You’re going to step onto it like this and then push off.” He said as he mimed stepping onto the board with his left foot and pushing against the sidewalk with his right. “When you start moving, pivot and bring your back foot onto the deck.” Aiden shifted his feet and held out his arms like he was flying. “Easy peasy.”
Before she lost her nerve, Elodie sucked in a breath, balled her hands in her sleeves, stepped onto the skateboard, and pushed.
“Make sure you’re solid and balanced before you—”
Aiden’s advice came a second too late. Elodie squealed as the board surged out from under her and careened, riderless, into the grass, and her butt smacked against the concrete. “Ouch,” she groaned as she inspected her hands.
Aiden kneeled down next to her, concern widening his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Elodie grimaced as she got to her feet. “I’m fine. My jacket, not so much.” She offered her ripped sleeves as evidence.
“You sure you’re okay?” Aiden asked as he stepped onto the curved tail of the skateboard. The board pointed straight up and he grabbed the nose.
The underside of the deck was the same neon green as the wheels, and littered with various scratches and divots. What drew Elodie’s attention wasn’t the proof that Aiden had taken similar, albeit far less embarrassing, spills. It was the beautiful, hand painted script that seemed to dance across the board’s middle—after the storm comes the dawn.
“That’s really pretty.” Elodie motioned to the board.
Aiden dropped the nose and pushed the skateboard back onto the sidewalk. “The river’s a few feet higher than normal. Want to go to the pier and check it out?”
“As long as I don’t have to get there on that thing.” Elodie smiled.
Aiden caught up to the board and gave it another push. “Are you saying that wasn’t the funnest thing you’ve ever done?” he asked, his eyebrow arched.
Elodie joined him, kicking the skateboard as they neared it. “It comes in second, right behind running face first into a glass door.”
“You know, I’ve heard crashing into a door is a wild ride.” Aiden angled the board toward the pier and gave it a final tap before he strolled onto the dock. Wooden slats creaked and groaned as he headed toward the edge and stared out at the water.
Like Aiden had done, Elodie stepped on the end of the skateboard and lifted it by its nose before joining him on the pier. “Did you always want to work in the morgue?” She sat down with the board stretched across her lap. Her legs dangled over the edge of the pier as she absentmindedly traced the board’s fancy lettering. “I mean, unless you don’t want to talk about work.” She shook her head and moved the skateboard behind her. Of course he didn’t want to talk about work. People didn’t leave work to then keep talking about work. Rhett never wanted to hear about her day and, most days, she didn’t want to tell him about it anyway. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Aiden sat down next to her and tapped the toe of his boot against the river’s rippling surface. “You apologize a lot.”
“Sorry.” Elodie pressed her teeth against her bottom lip. Could she be any more predictable?
“Have you thought about saving them?” He dipped the toe of his boot into the river and flicked up a splash of gray water.
Her brow creased at the question. “Save my apologies? For what?”
“They’re heavy, apologies. At least they should be. And meaningful.”
Elodie shrugged. “They’re just words.”
“But words have power.” He lifted his foot. Water rolled off of his boot and rained back into the river. “That’s something Echo tells me all the time.”
Elodie smoothed the ends of her hair between her fingers. “Who’s Echo?”
Aiden plunged his foot into the river. Water sprayed around his boot. Elodie jerked backward and yipped when the cold splash found her.
He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Shit! I did not think it would reach that far!” he exclaimed, the words muffled between his fingers.
Laughter shook Elodie’s core and she collapsed back against the wooden slats. The clouds had cleared and left behind a pale blue sunlit sky.
“Seriously, that was a total accident.” He joined her on his back. “I completely miscalculated.”
Elodie shielded her eyes and stared into the endless blue. “Don’t even think about saying you’re sorry,” she said through a final bout of giggles. Her cheeks ached as she lay there, still smiling, river water soaking her pants. It w
as nice, just being there with Aiden. There were no expectations or harsh judgments. There was only freedom, room to be whoever she wanted to be, room to find out who exactly that was. “Sometimes,” she began, “I feel like this planet is the entirety of outer space. Like, the beginning of Zone Seven is the edge of our atmosphere, and it’s just black nothingness until the next city or country. I mean, no one can survive in or beyond Zone Seven, so from our Zone Seven to the next city’s Zone Seven is . . .” Elodie tossed her hands in the air. “Emptiness.”
Aiden sucked in a breath like he wanted to speak but remained silent.
She shivered, suddenly aware how cold her wet pants were.
Aiden finally broke the silence. “Who told you no one can survive in or beyond Zone Seven?”
Elodie shrugged. “School, I guess. But no one actually had to tell me. It’s a fact.” She rolled onto her elbow. Her breath stuck in her throat as she looked down at him. He’d laid down so close to her. She cleared her throat and attempted to wiggle away. A jagged slat caught her raincoat and held her in place.
He rolled toward her and propped himself up on his elbow, mirroring Elodie’s posture.
She stiffened and again attempted to move away. Her sleeve made a distinctive ripping noise and she stopped. How was Aiden okay with being so close to her? Maybe he wanted to be close to her. She swallowed. Her cheeks were hot again.
His brow furrowed. “No, I get it. We’re told that Zone Seven and beyond are monster-filled wastelands, and those notions are reinforced throughout our entire lives.” He scratched his chin. “I guess I asked the wrong question.”
“What’s the right question?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I have a friend, actually she’s my best friend, who would say that you sound like one of those kooks who believes there’s actually something out there,” Elodie motioned toward the distance. “Between the cities.”