Eternal Youth

by Julia Crane

  His voice drifted into the hall, and Callie halted her steps, raising an eyebrow. Security? Why would we need security? Alaric had specifically told her there was no crime in Aionia. It was a relative Utopia.

  Callie thought it sounded like Josie, Alaric’s sister, who answered. She recognized the thick country accent. “Planned, sir. We’ll station units at each port for the full night. They’ll have strict instructions that not a single body is to sail the water.”

  “Good, good. And, Gretta, any headway on the portmasters?”

  “Yes. They’re going to post notice this weekend so the fishermen are aware of the closure with plenty of time to prepare.”

  “That’s fantastic. Thanks so much for your work in that,” Darren said cheerfully.

  “They’re cooperating fully, of course. You did well in placing those men and women,” Gretta replied, her voice full of respect.

  “Should we expect any problems this year?” Darren went on, his voice lower. “We don’t want a repeat of—”

  “No, sir,” Josie’s twang answered. “My soldiers are prepared for the worst. No one will be on the water, and if they try…” she trailed off.

  There was a long pause before Darren spoke up. “Good girl. If they try, your men and women have permission to shoot on sight.”

  Callie covered her mouth with a hand to hide her gasp. What the hell is going on? she thought, backing slowly to the wall and propping herself against it. It almost sounded like they were planning on going into battle, but Alaric had sworn the Aionians were kind people. There were no enemy clans or threat of invasion; the island was alone in the world. Nobody could even leave.

  So, why were they shutting down the harbor ports?

  She took a deep breath, and the movement of her chest dislodged the stack of folders beneath her one arm. In slow motion, she watched as one folder tumbled to the floor and skittered—loudly—across the stone.

  “What was that?” Darren barked. “Josie.”

  Soft footsteps sounded from the illuminated room. Her heart pounding from her chest, Callie stooped to snatch the folder from the floor and then turned on her heel, running full speed back the way she came.

  Callie was sitting on a cool, stone bench outside the government building when Alaric strolled out, the heavy wood door slamming shut behind him.

  “Afternoon, beautiful.”

  Just the sight of him—his messy blond hair and his beautiful eyes, so big and bright—was balm for Callie. She stood and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

  “Well, hello.” He chuckled and gave her a bear hug. Pulling away, he settled a soft kiss on her lips, brushing her hair from her face. “Rough day or something?”

  “Or something.” Callie shrugged. “Could we go somewhere private to talk?”

  Alaric lost his smile, and his voice was worried when he answered, “Um, yeah. Of course.”

  “It’s not about you,” Callie rushed to reassure him. She tiptoed, planting another, more passionate kiss on him. “It’s about something I heard today that I’m kinda freaked about.”

  He let out a breath, and then laughed. “You really scared me there for a minute.” Running his hands down both of her arms, Alaric murmured, “I just got you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Staring into his gorgeous eyes, Callie wondered, Is this what it’s like to fall in love?

  “There’s a deli close by. It’s rarely crowded, but the sandwiches are great. How does that sound?”

  Callie nodded. “Perfect.”

  There were only two other people in the deli: an elderly man hidden by a sepia-toned newspaper, and a curvy, middle-aged lady with ebony hair scribbling furiously on a notepad. After ordering at the counter—chicken salad for Alaric and a veggie wrap for Callie—they took an empty corner booth, putting distance between them and the other two patrons.

  Callie told Alaric about the conversation she’d overheard in the temple.

  When she was finished, he sat back heavily in his chair, his forehead crinkled. “You said my sister was there? Are you sure?”

  “Well, first it was just a guess because of her heavy accent, but then Darren spoke her name, right after I dropped the folder.” Callie shrugged. “It was her.”

  Alaric rubbed his face and sighed. “First I’ve heard of anything like this. I’ll talk to Josie tonight, but if it’s confidential, I doubt she’ll tell me. I might have to do some snooping to find out.” He paused and leaned forward on the table, crossing his arms in front of him. “You’re absolutely sure of what you heard?”

  “I know what I heard, Alaric,” Callie said, exasperated.

  “Okay.” He put his hands up in supplication. Reaching across the table, Alaric took hold of her hands and caught her gaze. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. It’s probably just some kind of drill.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Callie murmured, and took a bite of her wrap. Like every other meal she’d eaten with him, the food was delicious. She could only guess that was because everything was fresh and organic.

  Callie wasn’t convinced it was a drill, but the fact that he agreed to look into it made her feel better. There wasn’t any reason for the paramilitary to mobilize, and if there was…Callie wanted to know why.

  She took a deep breath and glanced around the room, startled to find the black-haired woman watching her. For a brief moment, she worried that the woman had heard their conversation—though her face showed no obvious emotion—but Callie doubted it. She and Alaric had both used near-whispers. Shaking off her worry, she turned back to his handsome face.

  “I took my family to the fountain last night. After you left.” Callie said it casually as she took a sip of her juice, and watched his face to gauge his reaction.

  “I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait.” Alaric chuckled, his sandwich between his hands. “How did they handle it?”

  “As expected—initial disbelief that turned into excitement.” Callie giggled. “I don’t think anyone got a wink of sleep last night, least of all my mother.”

  The woman from inside the deli was propped against the front of the building when they exited after their meal. She pushed away from the stone, her long, white pants billowing like a skirt around her ankles, and offered a hand to Callie. “Good afternoon.”

  “Um. Ditto,” Callie responded, shaking her hand. “Can I help you?”

  “Walk with me,” the woman responded with a sincere smile. “Both of you.”

  Alaric and Callie exchanged glances, and he shrugged.

  The woman led them down the block and turned onto a small side street that was less crowded. The buildings were closer together, forming a dim, almost tunnel-like thoroughfare. The woman motioned for them to take a seat with her on a dusty bench next to an empty shop.

  “My name is Charlotte Rossier,” she said, crossing her legs and letting her shoulder bag fall to the ground.

  The name rang a bell. Callie searched her memory. “The author? The romance author?”

  Charlotte beamed. “Why, yes, I am. Have you read my books?”

  Callie shook her head sheepishly. “No, sorry. But, my grandmother was reading one of them the other day.”

  “Ah, well. I do hope she enjoyed it. What are your names?”

  “I’m Callie, and this is Alaric.”

  Charlotte nodded, and then her face turned serious. “I overheard your conversation in the deli.”

  “Overheard?” Alaric sounded amused.

  “Eavesdropped,” Charlotte corrected with a wink. She pursed her lips, her eyes on Callie. “You might call me a…conspiracy theorist. I’m not just a writer of romance; I’m an investigative journalist. Or, I was”—her voice was subdued—“back in my old life.”

  “So…what? You think what Callie overheard was some kind of conspiracy?” Alaric scoffed. “Aionia is a peaceful, open nation.”

  “With a fountain that stops age and heals all wounds that no one talks about,” Callie retorted.
<
br />   Visibly taken aback, Alaric shifted on the bench and cleared his throat. “Touché.”

  Charlotte hid a smile behind her hand. “Erm, yes. There’s that.”

  “Okay, so…conspiracy theory. What did you have in mind?” Callie asked her.

  “I think you’re right, Callie,” Charlotte said, lowering her voice. “I think there’s a way off this island, and I’m certain the government is keeping that secret from us.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Alaric shook his head, sliding an arm around Callie. “I’ve worked for the parliament for almost a hundred years. If something like that existed, I’d know about it.”

  “Would you?” Charlotte responded dryly. “I know who you are, Alaric. You’ve been Darren’s lackey as long as you’ve been on this God-forsaken island. But that’s all you’ve ever been—and all you will ever be. As long as those six remain in power, there’s no room for moving up. No room for being privy to Aionia’s secrets.”

  “Aionia has no secrets,” Alaric retorted.

  Callie put a calming hand on his knee and shook her head. “Alaric, come on. You’re being stubborn. Don’t blindly disbelieve what Charlotte has to say.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Why are you so certain that there’s a way out?”

  “If you can get in,” Charlotte interrupted. “There has to be a way out. Period.”

  “How long have you been here, Charlotte?” Callie asked.

  “Fifty years this month.” Charlotte opened her hands to the sky. “I’ve done my best to make it a good life. For the first time, my books have been published. There’s likely nothing left for me back in Utah because my daughter is here with me, but I miss it. I miss home.

  “I’ve seen a lot and heard a lot,” she went on, leaning forward to address Callie specifically. “And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

  Callie’s heart pounded. “Yeah?”

  “I have reason to believe that there is a hidden chamber in the government building that houses a book as old as Aionia, and that book gives instructions on how to get out. What I need you to do, Callie, is find that book. And steal it.”

  Callie caught a ride with a passing soldier, who deposited her at the broad, open gates of the greenhouses where Nailah worked. She had told Nailah that she would visit, and after the revelations of her morning, Callie figured it was a good time.

  Her mind was still reeling from the encounter with Charlotte. Callie had a folder in the bottom of her shoulder bag that held notes from Charlotte’s research, as well as the woman’s address. She couldn’t wait to get home and read through it all.

  The building right inside the gates was large, boxy, and white-washed. Callie stepped through the dim doorway and into the cool interior, where a perky blonde receptionist greeted her warmly.

  “Welcome to the Farm! How may I help?” She had a thick French accent and eyes that were almost purple. She was also too chicly dressed to work at a farm.

  “I’m looking for Nailah?”

  “Of course!” The receptionist pulled a binder across the desk and flipped it open with long, fire-engine red nails. She drew her finger down a handwritten list, and then smiled at Callie. “She’s in Greenhouse E today. If you go out the front door and take a left, you’ll find it on the left.”

  “Thanks!”

  Callie followed the woman’s instructions. The greenhouses didn’t look like the normal, all-glass buildings Callie knew from California. The outside walls looked like clay—a thick, dark paste of mud that formed four seamless walls. The sloping roofs faced the afternoon sun. They were the first instance of glass Callie could remember seeing in Aionia. It was probably too much of a production to make, particularly on an island that was proving to be mild in weather.

  She passed through a swinging door into Greenhouse E. Nailah stood before a long row of tables—weighed down with lush greenery—a stone pitcher in her hands.

  “Hey! What are you doing here?” Nailah set the pitcher down and gave Callie a hug. She had dirt streaked across one cheek and a leaf in her braids. “Did you come to see the Farm?”

  “Yes and no.” Callie grinned. “I met someone today who has done some investigating on Aionia. She thinks there is a way out, and that the parliament is keeping it secret.”

  Nailah laughed, scooping her pitcher up and turning back to her plants. “Seriously?”

  “I know you’re skeptical, but hear me out.” Callie told Nailah what she had heard in the temple, and the ensuing conversations with Alaric and Charlotte. “I think this author chick might be right. And I’m going to search for the book.”

  “Callie.” Nailah sighed. She dumped the last of the water into the base of a broad-leafed fern, and turned to grip both of Callie’s wrists. She shook them. “I think you’re getting fired up over nothing more than speculation. I’d hate to see you get let down.”

  “I admit that you were right about the Bermuda Triangle and the Fountain of Youth existing.” Callie stared at her friend, her tone low and even. “But you need to trust me and my instincts on this one. I will find a way home.”

  Nailah let go of Callie’s hands and shrugged. “Fine.”

  There was a long, awkward pause. Callie finally motioned to their surroundings. “So. Tell me about the Farm.”

  “Ah!” Nailah’s face lit up. “Well, there are twenty-six greenhouses—one for every letter of the alphabet. And there are the same amount of outdoor plots, but they’re numbered.”

  Callie followed her friend as she rattled on about what vegetables they grew, and how she worked only with the plants, while the other section of the Farm was dedicated to raising and supporting livestock. They stepped into a couple of greenhouses—which all looked the same—and Nailah took her to see the football field-sized plots sitting on a backdrop of the ocean.

  “We’re having a Fall Festival,” Nailah said happily as she walked Callie back to the gates. “In three days. It’s open to everyone. There will be dancing and music and food. I was going to tell you guys about it tonight when I get home. Do you think Mom and Gran would want to come?”

  Callie felt a twinge of jealousy at Nailah referring to Emma as “Mom”, but she squelched it. Nailah might as well have been her sister after all they’d gone through together. “Well, yeah! It sounds like fun.”

  “Awesome!” Nailah leaned in and hugged Callie. “Thanks for stopping by. And I’ll keep in mind what you said. If you need any help, I’m there.”

  Armed with the knowledge she gleaned from Charlotte Rossier’s detailed notes, Callie went to work the next day with every intention of slipping away for a search. But as if they knew her intentions, the six members of parliament managed to keep her steadily busy for the rest of the week.

  By the time the Fall Festival rolled around, Callie had two days off work and was tempted to stay home and sleep the entire time. She was upset she hadn’t had a chance to search at the temple, and she was worn out from running errands for six of the neediest grown-ups she’d ever known. And on top of that, Alaric had been kept so busy, too, that they hadn’t been able to do more than say “hello” in days.

  “But, you have to come!” Nailah whined. She was sitting at the foot of Callie’s bed, frowning. “We put so much work into this festival. I want you there.”

  “Nailah, I’m so tired.” Outside the open window, the sun was bright and the morning was clear and cool. The bedroom was alight with the warm colors of sunrise.

  “Tired?” Nailah cackled. “Girl, you work on a farm for three days and then tell me what being ‘tired’ is.”

  Callie rolled her eyes and buried her face in the pillow. “I just want to sleep.”

  They paused as they heard footsteps on the stairs. Callie rolled to stare at the door just as her mom stuck her head in.

  “Callie? Alaric is downstairs to see you.”

  “Ohmigod!” Callie jumped from bed, almost hitting Nailah in the process. “I’m not dressed. I haven’t even brushed my teeth! Tell him I’ll be down in a
few minutes.”

  Emma laughed and went back downstairs.

  “She sure is sympathetic!” Callie groaned.

  “Calm down, crazy.” Nailah stood and threw open the doors to Callie’s armoire. “Look, purple. It brings out the dark highlights in your hair.”

  Callie accepted the high-waisted tank dress with the princess skirt and shed her night clothes. Tugging it over her head, she screeched, “What about my teeth?”

  “Well, go brush them! Seriously, Calista, you’re being stupid.”

  Callie hurried off to brush her teeth. The only bathroom was at the bottom of the stairs, but if she rushed from the bottom step and across the alcove, she wouldn’t be seen. As she did, she heard the low murmur of his voice in the kitchen, and it made her heart skip a beat.

  Seeing her mess of hair in the mirror made her want to scream. After she rinsed her mouth, she tore a brush through her hair, trying to tame it. She gave up and tossed her brush to the counter. Storming back upstairs and into the bedroom, she hissed, “I can’t go. Look at this hair! Of all days it doesn’t cooperate…”

  Nailah laughed from where she sat cross-legged on her bed. She hopped up and opened the squeaky drawer in her nightstand, rummaging inside for a second before her hand emerged with a ponytail holder and several bobby pins. “Let me help. I learned a few tricks in my modeling days.”

  “Where were you hiding that?” Callie asked, flabbergasted.

  “It was in my pocket during the crash. One of my personal rules: always have a few pins and hairbands ready.” Nailah sat on the bed behind Callie, her own brush in hand. She ran the brush through Callie’s hair before expertly manipulating two braids on either side of her head. She pulled them back and twisted the rest of Callie’s hair up into a messy bun.

  Callie admired the final product in the tiny mirror that hung over the dresser. She caught Nailah’s gaze in the glass. “Do you miss it?”

  Nailah crinkled her brow. “Modeling?”

  “Yeah, and your old life.”

  “Sometimes, but it already seems like a lifetime ago. I’ve always believed you should live in the moment and accept the curveballs that life throws at you. We can either be miserable or happy. In the end, it’s up to us.”