by SGD Singh
Nidhan gave the front door one powerful kick, missing his shoes, and was outside in the narrow, mostly cobbled-together road. Looking down at the city lights beyond what he was beginning to realize was some kind of slum, Nidhan decided his first priority was to find a telephone.
Following the maze-like path through narrow alleys, Nidhan tried to move east, but the alleys kept twisting. Just as he decided it would be easier to travel along the rooftops, he rounded a blind corner and came face to face with two Witches.
They froze, their expressions going from surprise to fury in a second, and Nidhan, remembering the excruciating pain in his head, didn’t wait. He turned and ran, jumping onto a low brick wall and then up to the roof.
A shriek of rage followed him, sending a chill along his spine, and Nidhan jumped and rolled into the next alley. He leapt over piles of random junk, stacks of boxes and a discarded washing machine before scrambling back up onto the edge of a roof. He avoided their centers, knowing the flimsy tin wouldn’t hold his weight. The buildings were almost like giant steps leading downhill toward the city along the ocean’s edge, and Nidhan leapt easily from one to the next, dropping to the ground and rolling when the space between them was too great, darting between them and back up a moment later.
He spared a thought of gratitude for all the long nights of parkour training they’d done in Hong Kong.
The Witches’ cries finally faded in the distance, and Nidhan slowed down, catching his breath as he tried to get his bearings. Tying his long hair in a tight bun, he scanned the area for signs of food.
The smell of fresh Punjabi cuisine overwhelmed him in all of its spice-filled glory, and Nidhan’s stomach growled in spite of his better judgement.
You’re in Brazil, you idiot. This is a Goblin. He must be close…
Nidhan crouched on the ledge of the roof and peered down. A fat, tattooed old man looked up and down the narrow lane.
Mamono.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the Goblin called. “Your friends will be unhappy if we have to kill you to get what we want. If you come out now, I guarantee your life will be spared.”
What a load of shit. Nidhan turned and moved away from Mamono. He jumped silently into a narrow alley, almost landing on an ancient woman standing behind a tiny van surrounded by hanging laundry. She was nearly invisible in the darkness except for her white lace shawl.
She motioned with urgent movements for Nidhan to follow her before placing one gnarled finger to her lips and turning to enter a brick hut wedged between the cement walls of two larger buildings.
The smell of fresh samosas filled the night, and Nidhan decided to follow the woman inside. But the instant he ducked through the door, she bolted it and turned to him, glowering. The next instant, he felt the sting of a slap on the left side of his face.
“Ow! Hey—”
“What are you doing messing with Underworlders?” The old woman’s eyes flashed, and even though she was a fraction of Nidhan’s size, she looked ready to hit him again. “This is a good neighborhood. We don’t need foreigners causing trouble, bringing filthy monsters here.”
“Hey, I was kidnapped.” Nidhan raised his hands. “As in, those filthy monsters brought me here against my will?”
How does she know what Underworlders are?
The old woman looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Against your will.”
“Yes.” Nidhan said. “Look, if you could just let me use your phone, I’ll be on my way. I don’t want to cause any trouble for anyone.”
“You have already caused trouble.” Her hands landed on her ample hips. “Underworlders are searching for you. In our home. They will kill who they want to kill. They will eat who they wish to eat. What did you do? Steal something from them?”
“No.” Nidhan turned to leave. The woman was making him uncomfortable. “Like I said, they stole me… Look, if you don’t have a phone I can use, I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait.” She squinted up at him for long seconds, looking as if he’d force-fed her something bitter. Then she shrugged and left the room, returning with a cell phone and a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. I’ll get you something to eat.” She disappeared through a tattered curtain, calling, “And don’t use up all my minutes.”
Nidhan quickly dialed Lexi’s number.
She picked up after one ring.
“Nidhan? Are you okay? Have they hurt you? We’re on our way.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just hungry. I guess you know I’m in Brazil, for Christ’s sake. Some old lady let me into her house when Mamono tracked me down. I’ll wait here for a few minutes and then keep moving. Where should I meet you guys?”
“Wait,” Lexi snapped. “Back up. Did this old lady see Mamono? Like, she knows who he is?”
“What, you think she’s a Familiar? Lexi, you didn’t see her face. She hates Underworlders.”
“Nidhan, get out of there. Now. That’s an order. Just take the phone and go.”
“All right, hold on, I’m going.” Nidhan slipped out the door and climbed onto the adjoining roof. He looked down at the old woman’s shack, feeling a little bad about stealing her phone. Her shadow played across a patch of light from what he presumed was her kitchen window.
“You didn’t eat or drink anything she gave you, did you?”
Nidhan thought of the bottle of water on the table. “No. Calm down, would you?”
“What? Did you just tell me to calm down?” Lexi hissed. “First you’re kidnapped by Underworlders, fucking Mamono, no less, and then—” She sighed, cursing under her breath. “And now you tell me to calm down.”
“And then what?” Nidhan said.
Lexi sounded ragged, exhausted, almost as if she were admitting defeat. Which he knew was impossible. “What is it, Lexi? Something happened.”
Silence.
“Are you hurt? Did those Witches…?”
Lexi snorted. “I wish.”
If Nidhan didn’t know better, he would say that Lexi was actually crying. He felt panic enter his bloodstream, spreading with each beat of his heart.
“What’s wrong? You better tell me before this phone dies.”
She still didn’t speak.
Nidhan tried to sound cheerful. “I can handle hearing about your new-found weaknesses. You discovered you can’t live even a single day without me, and you realized you are capable of fear at the mere thought of harm coming to my perfect physique.”
“Yes.” Lexi laughed, sniffing. “That’s all true. But it’s not that. It’s… I found out why Asha made me stay.”
“You did?” Nidhan straightened. “And?”
“It’s… Mamono froze us so we couldn’t stop him from taking you.” She took a deep breath. “It turns out this paralyzing-floating thing is Upperworlder technology. They use it for operations and shit. Puts people into painless comas, or something. And…” Lexi sighed. “The Upperworlders can track its location when its used, which is how they came and unfroze us.”
“Okay. And?”
Lexi sounded miserable. With the exception of the time she thought he was dying, Nidhan had never heard her sound this upset. It was killing him to be so far away from her. To not be able to wrap her in his arms. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is… The fucking problem is… One of them can speak to me. In my head.”
Oh.
Nidhan felt the roof tilt beneath his feet, and stumbled to steady himself. There was something clamped around his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will his heart to start again.
Lexi’s voice echoed from the phone he’d lowered. “Hello? Nidhan…”
“I’m here,” he managed to whisper, holding the receiver to his ear again. His eyes flew open as the full impact of the situation struck him. “Don’t kill him.”
There was a long silence and Nidhan thought he heard Lexi sniff.
“Promise me, Lexi.” The stars were
bright overhead, cold and distant, uncaring. “Killing him would be bad.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause—”
“Yes.” Nidhan laughed, but it came out sounding like a choked sob. “I’m sure. Everything we’ve learned about this soulmate stuff indicates killing him would be extremely bad.”
“Well, I hope you’re not suggesting that I… that I… because I sure as fuck—”
“Just wait for Asha. I’m guessing she isn’t back yet?”
“No. And when she does get back she’s gonna wish she stayed down there.” Lexi’s voice was almost a whisper.
“You don’t mean that. She couldn’t have known exactly why you needed to stay.” Nidhan tried to sound more confident than he felt. “All right. Once she brings this savior dude back, we’ll…”
A crushing sense of loss threatened to overwhelm him, and Nidhan’s voice caught.
Jesus, Asha, what the hell?
Nidhan tried to breathe. “Just don’t hurt him, okay? I’ll—”
A sudden scream pierced the night, and Nidhan remembered where he was as the world tilted back into focus. He looked down at the old woman’s house in time to see blood splatter against the window.
“Nidhan!” Lexi shouted. “Are you okay?”
“Now you think I scream like an old woman?” Nidhan whispered. “Mamono’s back. He—”
“Just go. Get out of there. He has the Upperworld weapon still.”
Nidhan moved along the roof, slipping down into an alley on the other side and moved farther into the favela. “Copy that.”
“We’ll be there in six and a half hours. We’ll find you.”
“Stay alive!” Nidhan tried and failed to sound like Daniel Day-Lewis as he leapt up to another rooftop. “No matter what occurs! I will find you.”
“Are you actually making jokes right now?” Lexi shouted, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “And here I was worrying there are no vegetarian options in Brazilian cuisine.”
Nidhan stopped. “Wait, what?”
Lexi hung up.
Nidhan looked down at the avalanche of concrete and brick. Twinkling lights burst in every color from the tangle of buildings, lighting up the night sky. The sound of thousands of humans and their machines filled the air to bursting, and suddenly Nidhan wanted nothing more than to escape to the highest roof at the top of the hill, where the chaos ended in darkness.
To wait.
And try not to think.
Chapter 22
Nidhan must have fallen asleep, because he was transported to the first time he ever heard Lexi sing. A tiny sliver of his consciousness told him he was dreaming, but he ignored it, letting the part of his brain capable of replaying the memory take over.
He was in Punjab, at his father’s house, and he knew in the way of dreams that it was the night before he, Asha, and Lexi had moved into Headquarters. He had been avoiding Lexi as much as possible, because when she was around he couldn’t not look at her, and he was determined not to be like one of those creepy stalker guys. He told himself if he focused on other things he would get over it.
But that night, when he first heard her sing, was when he knew that he would never, ever get over it.
Neither Asha nor Lexi had known Nidhan was on the twin roof, having been sent to check the water tank after Chotu thought it was leaking. He’d heard Asha’s harp first, the same as every night since her arrival in India. Nidhan had looked across the space between the two houses to see the two friends sitting at a table, a few candles lighting their faces. He watched Lexi’s smile, so full of mischievous excitement, her hair like strands of gold waving softly around her head, and Nidhan forgot he wasn’t supposed to be staring like a creepy stalker.
She began to clap, flicking water at Asha, never once glancing at Nidhan in the darkness. And then Lexi started singing and Nidhan forgot everything in the world but her.
A detached part of Nidhan’s consciousness marveled at how his dreaming mind could remember every word to a Spanish song he had only heard twice.
Every other part of his mind didn’t care, and eagerly drowned in the music.
He had stretched out on a cot someone had left on the roof years ago and lay, looking at the stars, barely able to breathe against the pounding of his heart, just listening to her voice.
He remembered wondering for the first time in his life how it was possible to live without a heart. Because his heart was gone, stolen away the first moment he had seen the fierce blonde girl in his driveway. And Nidhan didn’t miss it at all.
That night Nidhan had slept on the roof, unable and unwilling to get Lexi’s voice out of his head. He knew he was completely and irrevocably lost to her for as long as he lived.
The song played in his dreaming mind, memories of the first time he’d heard Lexi sing it mixing with the second, when sound had been joined by sight. And sight had been joined by touch…
Nidhan bolted upright with a gasp, the sensation of Lexi in his arms vanishing as the reality of his freezing, bare feet filled his conscious mind. The sound of Lexi’s voice faded like smoke.
One of them can speak to me. In my head…
Nidhan rubbed a hand across his face. “Pull yourself together, yaar,” he said out loud.
The night had become quiet, the lights of the slum only fading embers, and Nidhan wondered how long he’d slept. He decided he would first find shoes, then food, and after that he’d check in with Lexi.
Nidhan found a damaged scooter tire abandoned in an alley, and he quickly got to work with his knife, creating two makeshift soles. He tried to find rope or cloth that wouldn’t be missed, but quickly gave up. Taking a man’s shirt off a clothesline, he made a mental note to have Lexi get Stevens to send shirts to all the people in the general area.
After poking three holes in each piece of rubber with his knife, Nidhan threaded and knotted ripped strips of fabric through it, creating very messed-up looking sandals. But they fit, and after wrapping what was left of the shirt around them, Nidhan’s feet were no longer numb.
He kept to the shadows, moving silently along the narrow streets, and concentrated on not being seen. People didn’t tend to react favorably to a giant stranger lurking around in the middle of the night. He realized he was extremely thirsty and knew he couldn’t risk drinking the water. Months outside India had turned his stomach soft, and the Underworlders had taken his water-purifying tablets along with everything else.
Fruit it is, then.
Nidhan knew that where there are concentrated numbers of humans, there are farmer’s markets and restaurants. And where there are markets and restaurants, there are delivery trucks that show up after hours and need to be emptied. And where there are delivery trucks needing to be emptied, there is always appreciation for a person capable of lifting heavy items.
Maybe they won’t notice my shoes.
Nidhan wandered the winding maze of streets for another ten minutes until he heard the tell-tale beeping sound of a truck backing up.
Rounding a corner, he watched a green box truck back into a narrow lane. Slats of wood held towers of crates in place from the tailgate to the cabin. Four men waved the truck to back up to long tables already crowded with fruit, and Nidhan felt his stomach rumble painfully. A fifth man, the driver, shouted at them in Portuguese, and jumped out to lower the truck’s tailgate, inspecting the closest crate’s contents.
Nidhan stepped forward, trying not to look menacing, and called, “Excuse me. Can I help?”
The driver, an older man who didn’t weigh much more than one of the crates in front of him, turned, his eyes widening as he took in Nidhan’s size, his expression puzzled when he spotted the makeshift shoes. “You work?”
“Yes. Yes, I want work.”
The man rattled off something in Portuguese and Nidhan shook his head.
The man spoke slowly in English, as if to a child. “I say charge. How much?”
Nidhan looked at the truck. “I empty truck in five minutes.” He moti
oned to the crates, holding one hand up to show the number. “You give me fruit.” Nidhan mimed eating.
The other men looked at him and laughed and Nidhan wondered if five minutes was pushing civilian believability. He tried to remember what the normal time for something like this should be, but he was too hungry to care.
The first man grinned. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay?” Nidhan pointed at himself, then the truck, raising two thumbs, and all five men nodded, crossing their arms and settling in to watch.
Nidhan crossed to the truck and lifted two crates, one in each hand, turning to see their astonished faces. “Where should I put these?”
The driver waved to an open space on the ground behind the tables, while speaking to the others in rapid Portuguese. One of the men typed on his phone. Nidhan tried not to move too quickly, forcing himself not to jog back to the truck for each new load. Still, within four and a half minutes he had emptied the entire fruit shipment.
The first man slapped Nidhan’s arm, exclaiming something in Portuguese as he gripped his biceps, and everyone laughed. “You help more? Empty boxes?”
Nidhan mimed eating. “I eat first?”
That got a bigger laugh. “Okay, you eat first.” The man spread his arms, indicating the crates. “You choose.”
Nidhan opened the crate nearest him and discovered smooth coconut-melon things he had never seen before, and hesitated. He glanced back at the men who stood watching him.
One of them said, “Capuacu,” nodding.
Nidhan broke one in half, revealing a fibrous-looking white fruit. The men began murmuring again, and he thought maybe he should’ve used his knife. “Kah-poo-ah-soo?” He tasted the fruit, then devoured it. It was delicious, like a pear, only better.
The men watched him closely, so Nidhan gave them a thumbs-up, and they clapped. He looked in a few more crates, not recognizing the strange star-shaped fruit or the round orange fruit with black cashew-like things attached, and he went back to the first crate and ate another four pear-melons. Finally he began to feel less dehydrated.
The men seemed to be waiting for him to finish before getting back to work themselves, so Nidhan resisted stuffing himself further. “Okay. I work now.”