“Which are?”
“Well, for one, we need Tristan out of the picture permanently. We need you to show her the video you took at the party.”
“No. No way. That’s seriously perverted stuff. She’ll hate me.” I vigorously shake my head. “She’ll know the real reason I was there that night.”
“It’s required. But, here’s the incentive. You’ll need a reasonable excuse to stay with the girl at her home. So, you get to be her boyfriend for the duration of the trip.”
“You think she’d say yes to that after I’ve just shown her a video of her long-time boyfriend cheating on her?” My father is delusional.
“She has no choice in the matter.”
“Ugh. I don’t want a fake relationship with her. I want a real one. What happens after the trip?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“Well, that depends on how the trip goes, whether Blake magically returns, and how she feels about you.” He chuckles. “Keep her in line. No deviations will be tolerated. Her life and your life depend on it. The Ten expects her silence while on Earth and her immediate return to Thera when required.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond. It should floor me that he threatened to kill his own son, but that’s standard issue parenting for him. Who am I kidding? Dr. Christo has been more of a father to me than my dad will ever be.
Eight years prior
Most pre-teens get the talk on “the birds and the bees.” Instead, Jax and I got the “Dark and the Lights” lecture from Dr. Christo. Over and over again. Dr. Christo drilled the concepts and then tested. Perhaps, had Jax let me get a word in, the good doctor would have realized I knew the material. But, Jax felt the need to show his superiority, and I let him.
“What is DNT?” Dr. Christo would ask.
Jax immediately would answer, “Markers that determine whether we can pass between worlds.”
Dr. Christo: “People can be DNT(L) or DNT(D) or DNT(LD). What do the sub-markers represent?”
Jax: “Well, duh, that represents the root source of their DNT. Light, Dark, or Both. Light originated on Earth and Dark on Thera.”
Dr. Christo: “Jax, please let Ethan answer. Particularly since you didn’t answer in full.”
Jax: “Only because you interrupted me. Pure Lights or Darks are extremely rare. Almost non-existent. So, the (L) or (D) sub-marker only indicates what the ‘majority’ is in the mix. The (LD) marker is the theoretical sub-marker for the perfect union between a pure Light and pure Dark which, of course, only happened at the beginning. No pure Lights have been known to exist since.”
Dr. Christo: “True. But it can and will happen again. In your lifetime in fact. What happens when someone has the (LD) marker?”
Jax: “Magic. Among other things, the ability to freely travel between the worlds without issue.”
Dr. Christo: “Is DNT the only marker of interest?”
Jax: “No. ARB is also of interest but highly uncommon. Like those with DNT(LD), those with ARB may also freely pass between worlds. Their talents are many and thus, much is required of them. You and I have ARB, Daddy.”
Dr. Christo: “Indeed we do, Son. Can DNT and ARB co-exist?”
Jax: “Yes, in rare circumstances.”
Dr. Christo: “Jax, please let Ethan speak. Ethan is special, too. Ethan, you’re a pure Dark with a ‘little something extra.’ This is why so much is expected of you, even much more than your parents realize.”
I finally get a word in. “I know. Though I’m hardly special. I’m broken.”
Dr. Christo sighed. “No, not broken. Fixed. Whole.” I just had my last surgery. “Now, why was Light lured to Dark? Why was it crucial in the beginning to have those who could cross over?”
Jax: “To make all things equitable. Things were architected so those who were not afforded ample opportunity to achieve their purpose—through no fault of their own—would be given that opportunity. A Second Chance.”
Dr. Christo: “Isn’t that what the Second Chance Institute does?”
Jax: “No. That’s what we do. We bring them here. The SCI manages them once here. Or mis-manages, I should say. To bring about their own purposes.”
Dr. Christo: “And what purposes would that be?”
Jax: “Research. They test governmental ruling methods here to use back on Earth.”
Dr. Christo: “Is this acceptable?”
Both Jax and I answer this one in unison: “No.”
Present
I hadn’t thought about Dr. Christo and Jax’s differences in a long time. I spent so much time with them that their oddities seemed to be the norm. Not until I moved in with my Uncle Henry did I realize that Jax and Dr. Christo were anything but the norm. Dr. Christo told me that my pure Dark DNT had a “little something extra.” Even when pressed, he never told me what that meant. Other than I have “an even Grander Destiny to fulfill.”
After my “vacation” with Kira, I do believe I owe the good doctor a visit. My parents placed me on Earth with my Uncle Henry for a reason. They want me to have political aspirations and use Theran knowledge to “better” a “declining” society on Earth. But, I need to understand how that meshes with Dr. Christo’s plans for me. Since Dr. Christo knows the big picture, it is time he shares it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blake
I’m a real jerk. I can’t believe I told Kira I was falling for her and then ditched her in the middle of a flash flood. Who knows how long I’ll be gone, and I wouldn’t want Kira hooking up with anyone while I was gone and ruining our cover. Better to have her pining away while I’m away. Am I really falling for her? After Bailey, I thought that I would never want a relationship again. And now…living with Kira and having Bailey tempt me at every turn, it’s making it near impossible. My hormones are raging. From a strategic standpoint, hooking up with Bailey would only hurt my cause. The SCI wants me with Kira. And, that kiss with Kira was hot. I need to try it a few more times to see if I can get the kind of volcanic reaction I had in the past with Bailey.
It’s all moot if I don’t return. Or if Kira doesn’t get rescued—she could die if another mudslide puts her back in the river. What was I thinking? I saw an opportunity to get word to my dad and took it. Even if the SCI tries to track me, they’ll just assume I got swept out to sea by the current. I have a foolproof excuse to be where I shouldn’t, and I took it without thinking it through. There’s no turning back now. To prevent being tracked, I rip off my watch so the SCI will think it came off in transit down the river.
I’ve completed four triathlons. That’s child’s play compared to swimming river rapids full of debris. I have zero visibility and no way to gauge how far I am from my target. I’m saddled by my less than swim-friendly party attire. And the canyon lights are covered in mud, so it’s pitch black. I use a breaststroke to push the debris from my path while I think strategy. Worst case, I end up in the ocean, swim far enough north to clear the Eco barrier, and then ride the waves into shore. I prefer not to go that route since I’m bleeding from at least a dozen spots which means I’m some pretty attractive shark bait. My standard issue party vest has been ripped to shreds.
Without warning, I slam into a rock wall. I churn alongside large chunks of debris in a small pool for quite some time, periodically being pushed back into the same surface. The clouds break for a moment, and I can see that I’m at the mouth of the canyon. This means the beach, Eco barrier, and the ocean are around the corner. I can’t feel the canyon floor with my feet, so the water must be pretty deep between the ocean waves coming in and storm water flowing out. I’m able to see a small rock shelf jettisoning out of the canyon wall a couple feet above water level. It appears to continue around the canyon’s mouth. That’s my opportunity to get a safe view of my situation since I don’t know how close the Eco barrier is.
I dive low and then push upward with all my might, popping out of the water. After a few tries, I’m able to grab hold of the shelf. I fall off and have to r
epeat the maneuver. On the fourth try, I pull myself onto it. Thank goodness I added pull-ups to my workout routine. The shelf is about three feet wide, and it’s slick from the rain. I gouge my hand pretty bad getting up so hope it’s worth it because I really don’t want to get back in that water. The shelf is too slick to walk on, so I inch forward on my stomach, using my forearms to propel myself.
The shelf angles upwards and narrows as it rounds the bend of the canyon mouth. I press forward in darkness. The clouds have closed, and the only way I can tell the shelf continues is by reaching out with my arms. It seems like hours pass before I have a decent view of the landscape again. I’ve managed to go from the inland side of the canyon wall, around the corner, and to the beach side. Waves are furiously breaking against the canyon wall below me.
Gads almighty. I had no idea that I’d climbed so high. I’m at least thirty feet above the ground on a shelf that is just more than a foot wide. The Eco barrier may be directly beneath me, but I can’t tell. There’s less than ten feet of progress to be made before the shelf disappears entirely. The only thing I can do is wait for daylight. If the storm clears and sun appears, I’ll burn. My arms and head are exposed. The mud layer that I’d once had on me washed off in the river. Perhaps the ocean route would have been wiser. Exhausted, I scoot my back against the cliff and close my eyes.
Scalding sun wakens me. My skin has turned a bright pink. The stone ledge burns to the touch. I allow my eyes to adjust. Despite the debris left on the beach, I can see the edge of the Eco barrier at least twenty feet to the south of me. Keeping all but my head atop the ledge, I peer over the side to see if the canyon face is uneven to provide enough footholds to allow me to climb down. I see a few, but not enough to descend thirty plus feet without injury. That leaves me two options. Signal my dad and hope his team can help, or return to the other side of the Eco barrier and swim the ocean.
Signal first. I put two fingers in my mouth and whistle loudly in a pre-planned pattern of long short long short for about a minute. And then I wait. Given the Exilers will likely be sleeping, I try again. And again. Finally, I notice a figure jogging down the beach, hugging the cliffs to keep from being too noticeable. About fifty yards from me, he stops and whistles a short long to respond. Only after I echo his tune does he catch sight of me and wave. He closes the distance and shouts up at me.
“Blake? Is that you?” says Doc Daryn. He hasn’t seen me for nearly a decade, but perhaps my father showed him a recent picture. I figure he’s pretty old by now and may not have stellar eyesight, particularly in the bright sun. His hair’s long, white, and pulled back in a braid.
“Yep. Hey Doc. I’m getting fried up here. Any chance you have a thirty foot ladder handy?”
“Sorry, buddy,” he says. “I will, however, go get your father and his team and we’ll try to figure something out.”
“Hey, no hurry. I’m just in Garden City party attire and my sunscreen washed off. Take your time.” He waves his hands in dismissal of my snarky comments and jogs back up the beach. It’s a full half-hour before the rescue brigade arrives. They’re wearing large sun hats and other protective gear, and they have brought shovels and a large fishing net. Looks like they want me to play aerial circus clown. Super. My dad confirms my worst fears when he tells me that he expects me to jump.
“You know, Dad. We could just chat right here, and then I can reverse my course. That might be a little safer than diving into your shoddily built fishnet.”
“We’re going to dig a hole under in case you break through.” Sure, that would delay the pain, but who’s he kidding? He’s asking for me to jump to my death. “A ship will be arriving within the hour, so we’re going to have to get this done and move our conversation to the caves. Otherwise, we’re sitting ducks.” True, given the heavy raiding activity of Interceptors, the ships have taken to firing upon any suspicious activity upon beaches or in the water.
They don’t get much of a ditch built in twenty-five minutes, so they better hold that freaking net tight. I may bounce, but that’s better than a thirty-foot free fall. I try to mentally calculate how far I’ll need to jump outward to land directly above the ditch and center of the net. They roll it out, and the men take their positions.
When my father gives the signal, I stand and pretend I’m jumping off the high dive at the local pool, rather than into a twenty foot diameter fishnet held up by two dozen Exilers. I aim for center but am off by several feet when I land. They’ve held the net too tightly, and the cords slice into my skin before giving way and thunking me to the ground on my legs and back. I avoid hitting my head but twist my ankle. Thankfully, though, I don’t think I have any broken bones, and I’m off the cursed ledge. Who knows how I’ll ever get back to Garden City, but I might as well take this one step at a time.
Two men carry me back to the caves so that Doc can give me a once over. The lacerations and bruises will heal as will my ankle. Of bigger concern are my burns. My party clothes are removed, and I’m lathered with a thick gooey substance and told to stay put for a few hours while it works its magic.
“So Doc, how’s your Cleave?” I ask, trying to make conversation. Doc’s Cleave will always hold a special place in my heart. She was practically my mom after my own mother died. Doc looks away for a moment before turning to answer me.
Tears are welled up in his eyes. “She passed a couple years back. It has been rough without her.” Oh no. They were as tight as any couple I’ve seen.
“I’m so sorry. How’d it happen?”
“In an unfortunate skirmish.” There’s obviously a story behind it. One that likely involves the SCI.
“With SCI security?”
He gets a very serious look on his face and clears his throat. “Things have changed since you lived here. Not all the Exilers have the same goals. Linda went to bat for our beliefs, and the opposition took issue.”
“Exilers did it?” I wonder if they were like the evil men who’d hurt me when I was young.
He shrugs his shoulders. “What’s done is done, and she has got no second chance at it. I can’t dwell. It does no good. All I can do is try to do right by my people and avoid violence in the future.” I nod, tears in my eyes. It hits me hard that Doc’s Cleave is gone.
Doc forces me to eat some nasty cooked grain which makes me wonder how I survived my childhood. How spoiled and picky I’ve become. I used to be grateful to get any food at all. Though, I do remember a time when I got a taste of the good life, and it soured my opinion of Exiled food for the rest my time spent living on Thera. Just the memory of my sweet encounter causes me to reject the pasty slop Doc gave me. I spit it back into my bowl and await my father. The sooner I get my message to him and get my updated orders, the sooner I get back to Garden City, to real food, and to Kira.
Eleven years prior
The Interceptors scored “the big haul.” They sieged a freighter that was hauling supplies from Food City and Farm City to Garden City. Without any fancy-shmancy deep dock to pull into and with a desire to hurt the SCI’s transportation system, they’d run the ship aground north of the Interceptor caves into a lagoon between canyons. The Interceptors set traps to dissuade any SCI men from entering the lagoon to retrieve the spoils.
Knowing the food couldn’t survive the trip to our hot caves, they decided to move the people to the food. Our family and countless others trekked the relatively short distance and spent a month aboard ship. The accommodations were grim and cramped but not enough worse than the caves to warrant complaint. After months of famine, we welcomed the plenty. But even more than the food, I embraced the change of scenery. What little boy wouldn’t want his run of a ship? One night, I was an Interceptor. Next, a Spy. Then, a Militant. The younger kids on board, including Leila, served as my minions, the enemy, or my forces, depending on which game we played. Every adult had been assigned a full time job, so we had little to no supervision.
On one particular night, the adults dispersed to fend off an anticipated at
tack. Garden City’s next shipment was due which meant a new ship with a fresh crop of security detail aboard. They’d be on the lookout for us and would eagerly await the opportunity to recapture their ship and supplies, although the ship had been so badly damaged when maneuvered into the lagoons that it had a questionable future back on the open seas. The SCI had no way to know that, though. So, the adults camped near the feed from the lagoon to the ocean and waited, leaving their misfit kids aboard the ship. An adult or two may have been left on deck, but the bowels of the freighter were fair game for deep exploration.
That night I became Blake the Great, a fearless explorer of unknown territories. We ventured into every nook and cranny of the ship, seeking great fortune and adventure. The metal ladders aboard presented no obstacle. I found them infinitely more stable than the rope ladders of the canyons. Collecting items of great worth in a small plastic bag, we amassed a sizable treasure by midnight. By then we’d worked up a huge appetite, and I decided to transform from Blake the Great Explorer to Blake the Great Hunter. The supply hold was strictly off limits, but the usual guards were absent. I figured we’d be in and out long before the parents returned, so no harm done. We unlatched the door and entered.
The vault—containing rows and rows of supplies—had been so vast that the light of our headlamps couldn’t extend the length of it. Boxes, with labels I didn’t recognize, were piled to the ceiling. I was taught to read off a tablet the Interceptors stole in a raid but had been limited to the text contained on that particular tablet, so most of the supplies were unfamiliar. We finally found boxes labeled “Food City” and figured that whatever was inside had to be edible. We opened the only box we could reach without toppling an entire stack.
Jackpot. The box was filled with raw sugar and chocolate chips. We divided the spoils and kept eating until we’d devoured every last bit. I’d never tasted anything like it, the sweetness overloading my taste buds in a good way. If the Interceptors had ever happened upon this stuff before, they’d kept it for themselves.
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