Then something broke through the thunder: a tap, a clink as something hit the window. Dana opened her eyes and stared at the shadows beyond the glass, waiting. It might have been hail, but if it wasn’t...
Something else hit the glass, and she saw it this time: a little grey rock, one of a thousand lying idle in her mother’s garden.
Dana smiled. John.
She went to the window and flung it open, letting in a whirl of cold wind and icy rain. The storm howled and spit, but she could hear John loud and clear, guiding his own vibrations through the air.
“Are you ready!” he shouted.
Dana answered by throwing herself out the window, waving her hands in small circles. The rain curled around her, forming a freezing slide beneath her that deposited her roughly on the soaked grass. She stumbled, falling hard into John’s arms.
Gotta work on that, she thought, dazed. However, she had not broken any bones, so it was better than last time.
“You okay?” asked John.
Dana nodded. “Yeah. Totally.” She rose up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his cheek, slick with rain. He smelled like the forest, like mud and dirt and rotting leaves.
“How long do we have?” said John.
Dana shrugged. “Mom and Dad haven’t been back for days.”
“So, you don’t know?”
“I think we’ll be fine,” she said. “I haven’t heard from them since yesterday. They’re a couple days past the woods.”
John nodded. He was a handsome young man, with dark brown hair only just shedding the blond tinge of summer, plastered to his forehead by the rain. He was taller than Dana by a full head, something he never let her forget. He smiled and pulled her close, kissing her softly. “Then let’s go.”
Dana nodded, and together they jumped the fence.
The storm didn’t let up—if anything, it grew more intense as they walked—but Dana knew Water well enough to persuade it to fall away from her. Occasionally she could get it away from John as well, but his element was Fire, and he hadn’t quite figured out how to get along with the other elements. Fire Keepers were always that way, always slightly behind Nature’s learning curve, but they made up for it with incredible strength in their own element.
The land beyond the fence was flat for all of ten meters—then it fell to trees, tall birches and cottonwoods with wet orange leaves clinging to their bone-white branches. It was Victor’s forest, the rising, swirling landscape where Dana’s parents had first learned the ways of Old Nature, where Adele had woken Water and Antoine had summoned Fire. Where the elements rose again from their long slumber, to dance with those willing to keep up. It was a sacred place, in theory.
In practice, it was a perfect place to hide. Especially in the rain.
The trees were tangled, the grass long and tall, the ground itself twisting and bending in on itself, forming concaves, ravines, and hills enough to make a maze of the whole place. Dana and John knew every leaf, root, and branch like the backs of their hands. There were caves and overhangs, the cliff where Victor had laid down to die, the clearing where her mother had commanded the rain so many years ago. Adele always said it had been easy, that it took her only a few seconds to meld with her element before it did what she asked. Dana tried not to find that discouraging; she was having enough trouble being aware of the rain, let alone keeping her and John dry.
“Have they found anything?” asked John as they walked, sinking ankle-deep into mud with every stride; he asked every night, and every night Dana had the same answer.
“No,” she said, for what must have been the hundredth time. “Nothing.” If anything, it felt like her parents were getting farther away from the problem. The longer they were gone, the worse the weather became, and now even the Earth was getting involved—the most patient of all the elements. If Earth was joining the cacophony, they should be more than worried. They should be afraid.
John squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. “They’ll figure it out,” he said. “They always do.”
Dana smiled, ducking under a low-hanging black branch. It’s never been this bad before, she thought, listening to the thunder, louder with every passing second. She didn’t say it out loud, though. It wouldn’t have done any good.
At the very least, the longer Nature was out of balance, the longer her parents would be away. And the more time she would be able to spend with John, which was better than nothing.
Better than Nature being at peace? She was reasonably certain Victor wouldn’t have approved of that. Her parents always said he was a sweet old man, and a spectacular teacher. She wondered what he would think of Nature’s current distemper. He would probably blame us, she thought, for not being able to figure out what’s causing it. There had been whispers in the beginning that maybe a Keeper had killed someone, but no one was dead. Nobody had misused their powers either, not on any scale that would warrant this kind of bad weather; so it was anyone’s guess why it was happening.
“Hey,” said John, stopping. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”
Dana realized she was almost hyperventilating and took a deep, slow breath, sighing. “Yeah, I know.” She touched his face, running her thumb across his wet cheek.
“They’ll figure this out,” said John.
Dana looked up at the rain. It felt angry against her skin, tense, brittle like ice. “Or it’ll keep raining until everybody drowns.”
John shrugged. “Either or.”
Dana smiled, and he kissed her again. “Wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, “dying with you.”
Dana opened her mouth to reply — something snarky, like how they both had too much homework to worry about dying just then — when something in the storm changed. The rain still fell, the air was still cold, but now...
“Do you feel that?” Dana said, stepping away.
“Feel what?” replied John.
The feeling grew stronger, a tension in her lungs, a sudden desperate need to run, a sound like water rushing in her ears, the echo of a waterfall in a cave... Where is it coming from? Then the rain changed direction, the wind carrying it into her face, dragging her to the left. It wants me to go somewhere. But why?
“Dana?” said John.
“Come on,” said Dana, and she started to run.
The ground was slick with mud, precarious, but they both kept their footing, following the twisting wind, vaulting over roots and ducking under branches, darting around sharp-leafed holly bushes and overgrown patches of weeds.
“Dana!” John shouted over the rising wind, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know!” Dana called back. The rain was even colder now, and coming down harder, sharper, tiny stingers falling like arrows from the black sky. Liquid urgency hurled itself against her chest, spurring her forward faster, faster, faster. Where are we going? Where are you trying to take me?
The rain couldn’t answer, but it didn’t have to. A moment later, the trees broke before them, and Dana slammed face-first into a wire-mesh fence.
John caught up with her half a second later, skidding to a halt in the deep mud. He blinked at the fence, and at the sharp florescent lights struggling to illuminate the concrete slabs below.
“What the hell?” he said.
Dana pulled herself to her feet, rubbing her throbbing cheek, and looked up. “Oh.”
Before them stood a compound. A slab of concrete filled with squat white buildings and folding doors that led to underground bunkers. Men dressed in white patrolled the grounds, walking in large circles around buildings and lazily scanning the perimeter—all carrying heavy machinery, guns and tasers and electrified batons. The air that hung over the place was heavy, sterile, as though Nature’s touch had been burned away by the lights.
“This...” John put his hand to the fence, testing its give, frowning at its steel posts. “This isn’t supposed to be here.” He looked around them, suddenly lost. “How far did we run?”
Farther, the rain whispered, and Dana
nearly screamed; she hadn’t heard its voice since the storms began. Farther than you should have gone.
“Then why are we here?’ Dana whispered to it. Lightning tore through the sky, turning everything white.
To see, it droned. To stop.
“To stop what?”
The rain did not reply, but the sky it fell from did. Thunder tumbled through the clouds, and the next lightning strike touched down not a foot from Dana and John—shattering a small green box connected to the gate. It broke free, electricity crackled through the fence, and something snapped loudly down the line.
“What was that?” said Dana, looking at John. He frowned, taking a step towards the noise. He looked towards the gunmen warily, raising his hand. Fire crackled at his fingertips, ready to be thrown and raised into a burning pillar. But no one on the other side of the fence had heard the sound. The fire died in his hand and he pursed his lips.
Go, the rain whispered, and Dana felt Water’s presence take its leave.
“We have to go in,” Dana said quietly.
“Are you crazy?” said John. “Do you see these people?” He pointed to a rather large man wielding a buzzing machine gun. “They’re armed, they are just waiting for a fight.”
“Water said to, though.”
John blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Water said to.” Dana was already walking towards the snapping sound. “Don’t worry,” she said, “we just won’t fight them.”
John caught her arm, pulling her up short. “Dana, you can’t. We are totally alone out here, if we get caught—”
She pushed her lips into his, cutting him off. The kiss was a little clumsy, but Dana didn’t hear him complaining. She pulled back, feeling a mischievous grin form on her face. “We’ll just have to not get caught. Water said we’re here to see and stop.”
“And stop?”
“We wouldn’t be here if Water didn’t think we could do it,” Dana said.
For a second, John looked like he would argue—but then he sighed, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Just... Let’s be quick, okay?’
“Okay,” said Dana, and they started to move.
The snapping sound was the splintering of the fence itself, metal warping until it broke, opening up a hole in a conveniently dark spot. They waited for a tall, angry looking shadow to walk around the corner before darting through, making for the flat stone wall of the nearest building.
“Okay,” John whispered, “what are we supposed to see?”
What are we supposed to stop? Dana thought. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I guess we just... Look around? Wait until we feel something bad?”
“As though this isn’t already bad enough?” said John. “Whoever these people are, they’re trespassing on Keeper territory. They tore up trees to put this here, they’re probably dumping waste into the water—”
“Shh!” said Dana, clamping her hand over his mouth. A pair of armed men walked by, muttering to each other, oblivious to Dana and John.
“Think they’re getting close?” said one.
The other scoffed. “Doubt it. This is, what, the fifteenth person they’ve brought in?”
“Twenty says he doesn’t make it through the night.”
“Fifty says he doesn’t make it through the next ten minutes.”
The other one laughed. “You’re on. But I’m not going down there to find out, okay? Temba gives me the creeps.”
Temba, Dana thought. She’d heard that name before. Her mother had said it, or maybe it was her father. No, she thought, no, it was Nick, it was Nick Blade. But she couldn’t remember how Nick knew him.
“Just watch the doors. If they open, he’s dead, if they don’t... He’s probably dead anyway. Just, you know, not yet.”
They disappeared around a corner. Dana’s stomach twisted.
“That doesn’t sound good,” said John. Dana nodded.
“Let’s follow them,” she suggested.
“Follow them where?” John whispered.
“To whatever doors they’re going to watch!” said Dana. “They’re betting that someone is going to die tonight. John, this is it, this has to be what Nature’s mad about.”
John scratched his neck, shaking his head. “if it is, then we definitely shouldn’t be here alone. We should go back—”
“There’s nobody there to help, John,” Dana said. “Everyone is with my parents looking for this and they’re days away. Water brought us here. That has to mean something.”
John did his best not to look uncertain, but Dana could sense the fear in him. “We’ll be okay,” she uttered. “We’ll be careful. In and out quick, I promise. Just enough to go back and tell everyone this is worth looking into. Okay?”
After a long moment, John nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Fine. But we follow slowly.”
Dana nodded, and they crept after the men.
The compound was packed tightly with buildings, enough that there were a hundred alleys and shadows to hide in as they tailed the two guards. They continued to chatter, mostly complaining about their watches, and the rain, and how late it was.
And then, there was a building with a single door. ONE was stamped into the metal in red paint. The guards stopped at the corner of the nearest building. One of them chuckled.
“Ten minutes, and I win,” one said.
“Eleven minutes and you lose,” said the other. They both grinned as they watched the door, waiting for it to open, or to stay shut.
“Great,” John muttered. “What now?”
Dana stared at the door for a moment, stunned. She’d never felt anything so intense as this, this burning desire to run at the building and tear the door off its hinges with her bare hands, to set the entire compound on fire and drown everybody in it. Some unseen force was filling her with an impossible rage, a thirst for vengeance she’d never felt before. She felt her fists clench at her sides and stood, ready to run down the two gunmen.
John grabbed her arm and yanked her back down hard. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
Dana blinked. “Sorry,” she said. “Can’t you just blow something up?”
John scowled at her. He absolutely could, it was just a matter of him wanting to. Fire Keepers were wildly powerful, but John, contrary to his element, was very reserved. He used it to start fires in hearths and roast marshmallows, not to actively blow something up to distract armed guards. He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I swear, Dana, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Would it be so bad, dying with me?” she replied, grinning.
John chuckled wearily. “...Ugh, fine. What should I blow up?”
Dana cast her eyes around the space, squinting through the rain. “Um...how about those barrels?”
“Dana, there might be gasoline in those,” he implied. “That is the worst idea.”
“And?” said Dana. John raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed.
“Fine,” she said. “Just... look, there’s a dumpster. Use that.”
“That I can do,” John responded. He cracked his knuckles, sighed, and snapped his fingers. Ten seconds later, they heard a very conspicuous crackling sound from the alley behind the guards. The guard on the left sniffed the air.
“You smell that?” he asked.
“No,” answered the other. “You hear that?”
“Kinda.” He sniffed their air again. “I think... Ah, hell, that’s fire.”
“Where’s it coming from?”
“Uh... This way. Come on.” He started walking down the alley.
“What if we miss the door?”
“We’ve got seven minutes, it’s fine. Come on, if it’s a barrel, we’re in trouble.” He disappeared into the shadows, and a moment later his partner grudgingly followed him, muttering about losing their bet.
“There,” remarked John. “Now what?”
“Now we run,” said Dana. Before John could protest, she darted out from the shadows and booked it towards the door.
> She didn’t think about what she would do if the doors were locked until she got there... But then there was a strong gust of wind, and they blew open with a blast to rival the thunder. She threw herself inside, praying that nobody had heard. John was close on her heels, barely making it in before the door slammed closed.
“Okay,” he stated, “We’re in. What now?”
Dana shrugged. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Now we look.” But at what?
Before them was a long hallway, stark white and lined with doors. Their footsteps echoed painfully as they walked.
“What do you think this place is?” said Dana.
“No place good,” remarked John, “if they were betting on someone to die.”
Dana nodded. Alright, Water, she thought, where is it? What are we supposed to see? Where do we go?
A scream from the last door on the left was her answer.
Dana started to run towards it, but John caught her by both arms. “Slow down, someone’ll hear you!”
No, they won’t, Dana thought, but she stopped anyway. The scream started and it didn’t stop, drawing itself out, slamming itself against the walls with everything it had. John and Dana crept slowly towards the door, keeping low, ducking under the open eye-slots in every door. The lights were out in most of them, and from those still illuminated Dana could hear faint moans and the dull hum of a machine.
Machines, Dana thought. Nature wasn’t fond of them, but that couldn’t be the only reason they were here. Even Keepers used electricity.
“Maybe it’s a hospital,” John whispered, but he didn’t sound hopeful.
“Maybe,” said Dana. The scream grew louder, cut off, and started again, and this time it sounded like nothing human.
As they approached the door, they heard an electric whistle, and the screaming stopped. John grabbed Dana by the shoulder.
“Wait,” he said. “Slowly.”
Dana nodded, and together they rose up on either side of the door and peered through the thin metal eye slit.
The scene beyond was white and sterile. Three men stood around a table, one taking notes and examining a twitching figure under a white sheet. An arm rolled out from the sheet, tubes in its bulging veins spilling a translucent blue liquid onto the floor. The second man was at the machine the tubes were connected to, turning dials, seemingly powering it down. The third stood in the center of the room, removed from everything, observing the other two men as they worked. He wore a white lab coat, tan trousers, and a thin beard. Eyes of ice roamed the room, unnervingly detached.
The Great Keeper boxset: Science Fantasy Page 6