daynight

by Megan Thomason

  My dad’s sulking took a lot of time, so after Doc Daryn’s Cleave gave us nightly school lessons, Leila and I would play in the canyon until sunup, when the heat would force us back into the cave. Leila liked to run up and down the hill, giggling wildly, until her legs would give out. Or she’d roll down barren patches of canyon I’d helped my dad clear. By the age of three, Leila had long dark hair like my mother, but she had my father’s hazel eyes. I must have gotten my bright green eyes from a more distant relative. We both had pale ivory skin, which Leila tanned by way of a good dirt covering. This infuriated my father as baths wasted precious water reserves, so we often went weeks without a good washing. “You rolled in it, so you can sleep in it,” he would say to us.

  Living in Exile with little access to information, we had no idea a storm was brewing in the East and headed our way. It had been months since the last one, so I’d forgotten about the risk and we’d ventured farther into the canyon than normal. Looking back, I’m surprised no one noticed the obscured stars and sounded the warning. We had headlamps strapped to our heads so our view was limited to the twenty-odd feet in front of us.

  Dry one moment, and torrential downpour the next, the hills turned to mud, sliding us towards a raging river at the bottom of the canyon. I yelled to Leila to grab my ankles, and I reached for the branch of a bush, but it broke and we kept sliding, thankfully into some larger brush and cacti that stopped our forward motion twenty feet above the river. Sharp thorns embedded into my back, but I’d have taken that over drowning any night.

  As the rain continued with the force of a waterfall, I pulled away from the cacti and searched for the familiar rope ladders that litter the canyons, hoping to find one nearby. I yelled for help but the clatter of the storm overpowered my voice. The rain and mud obscured my view, so I buried my hands into the nasty slop and dug around, starting to my left a few feet and working to the right. I continued to shift our location, staying in front of the brush until I located the familiar twined feel of the ladder.

  Climbing the ladders at any time proved difficult, but that night I thought it’d be impossible. Leila mounted my back, gripping my neck so tightly I could hardly breathe, and I struggled to make progress, one rung at a time. The rain abated for a time, which slowed the rush of mud and water. We managed to ascend to a wide plateau, still well below and west of the caves that served as our home. I found us shelter below a rock outcropping where I intended to stay until the deluge ended. Wet, muddy, and exhausted from the climb, I clutched Leila in my arms and we waited it out. For what seemed like hours the downpour resumed, even past sunrise. And then, as quickly as it had started, it ended, and we dared step out into the sunlight to view the carnage.

  Carcasses of dead lizard, bugs, and animals blanketed the landscape, including the one community milk cow. I circled the area to get my bearings, watching as the canyon fossilized into its new dried form. Everything looked different. The heat of the sun instantly caked the mud to our skin, providing a decent, albeit itchy sun block. Knowing my father would be panicked, I used the sun to get a fix on our location and we traversed the plateau. Somehow we’d ended up more than a mile west of our caves. Finally, we scrambled up the hill to our home. The lookout team exclaimed shouts of relief upon seeing us. As Doc Daryn scrubbed us, removing thorns and hunting for wounds, my father gave his men instructions to round up the search party.

  Later that morning, unable to sleep, I watched from the mouth of my cave as two lifeless bodies were carried up the hill, blue, bloated, and ravaged by fire ants and scorpions. The bodies belonged to men I’d known since birth and who had wives and children of their own. The entire community of Exilers mourned their loss. Both had been found in the riverbed, drowned. No one ever said as much, but I’m certain those men died trying to find and save Leila and me during the storm. Whenever I question my loyalty to my father and his plan to save the Exilers and free the Second Chancers from oppression, I think of those two good men and how they willingly put themselves in harms way for me.

  “Mr. Sundry,” I hear from a familiar voice, yanking me back to my more comfortable spa-like surroundings. “So good to see you. I’ve wanted to catch up with you and Ms. Donovan to see how you’re enjoying training. Mind if I join you?” It’s about time Ted made an appearance. He has some explaining to do, as I struggle to reengage and leave the memories of my childhood behind.

  “It’s pretty awesome,” I lie. “This place is incredible. I mean, we’re still trying to take it all in—being somewhere other than Earth. That’s huge.” Ted plops his bulging body into the water and we talk training sessions, skate tracks, and upcoming school and sports for a few minutes.

  “You and Kira are really lucky to be able to experience it. Not many people can make the journey, you know. It’s taken me all week to recover. But since you’re so young and adaptable, I hear you’ve had no issues.” I try to read between the lines to see what he’s getting at. With the noise of the jets it’s very unlikely our conversation can be heard, but I know to be careful anyway.

  “Well, the doctors and nurses have been all over us trying to manage any side effects. They seem pretty invested in making sure we’re a hundred percent healthy.” I can tell by his expression I’ve hit the jackpot.

  “Of course they are. How often are you seeing them?” he asks.

  “Nightly. They’ve been pretty worried about abdominal issues and some sort of lesions that muck with our reproductive systems so have checked our blood and given us vitamin shots. They even gave Kira a full abdominal ultrasound because she was complaining… about female stuff probably. I think she said bloating or something. They, uh, made me do some awkward tests too to make sure my fertility’s intact, but I guess the doctors don’t want my future wife showing up here one night accusing them of making me sterile, eh?” I laugh for effect.

  “That’s assuming you don’t fall in love with someone here on Thera,” he says. “You and Kira have been pretty cozy, I understand. I just knew you’d like her once you got to know her.”

  “What’s not to like? She is smart, hotter than hot, and actually pretty sweet to me. I mean, she wouldn’t have given me the time of night back home, but I don’t have a lot of competition here,” I say. “If it wasn’t for the whole Cleaving weirdness I think we could really be an item. But we’re both a little freaked about being stuck here and never being able to see our families again.” It would be only natural for us to feel this way, so I don’t stress over saying it. He knows I have no family back home except ‘Aunt Jennifer’ and I’m sure she’s relieved to have me far away. I’d heard her label me ‘Unabomber clone’ more than once when I’d chosen to be anti-social with the family.

  Ted addresses my Cleaving comment with, “You guys shouldn’t be worrying about that! Of course you’ll see your families again.” Under his breath he adds, without moving his lips, “They do not plan to ever let you go. You both are pure descendants of the Original Theran settlers. I don’t know how this makes you so important yet, but I’m going to try to find out. They’re saying you are the ‘future of Thera’ and that scares me.” Ted’s words send chills up my spine, despite being immersed in hot water. We’re stuck here on Thera, with our only out of Garden City being Exile. He adds, in a regular voice, “The only way you stay is if you Cleave Kira or any other girl here.”

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t think Cleaving is on my near term to-do list,” I say in an irritated tone. “What’s the whole Assisted Pregnancy thing anyway? Did people forget how to get pregnant the old-fashioned way?”

  “All pregnancies are done in-vitro here to ensure only healthy babies are born,” he says. I wish I knew more about in-vitro, but reproductive technologies never hit my list of things to become an expert on.

  “So, when are you heading back to Earth?” I ask, my implication being, ‘when will I be on my own?’

  “Actually, change of plans,” he says. “The Grand Council promoted me, so I’ll be working right here at the SCI headquar
ters in Garden City. I’m excited. I love it here. I really think the place will grow on you and Ms. Donovan, too.”

  “Wow, congratulations,” I say. He gives me a wide grin. This has been his hope—to get stationed here so that he can help me succeed from the inside.

  “Well, I have to be getting back,” Ted says. “I’m so glad you and Ms. Donovan are enjoying your stay. I think you’ll really enjoy working alongside the Second Chancers. Give my best to Ms. Donovan and I’ll keep in touch.”

  I wave goodbye, and sink back into the bubbles for a few minutes. Future of Thera? There’s something I’m missing, but it’s eluding me. All that focus on Kira has really messed up my concentration.

  As I’m about to get up, another guy joins me in the hot tub. He looks a couple years older than me. Dark hair. Blue eyes. The kind of guy that girls would kill their best friend to get near and the kind of guy I want nowhere near Kira. Unless he’s a total oaf he could get a girl to Cleave him just by smiling her way. His only flaw’s a shimmery scar on his chest, but I’m sure the war story to go with it would just endear him to the ladies even more. I wonder what he’s doing here and why he went under the knife.

  “I didn’t know there were any other Recruits right now,” I say to him. “I’m Blake Sundry.” I offer my hand, which he shakes.

  “My name’s Ethan. And, technically, I’m not a Recruit. I’m an Intern,” he says.

  “What’s the difference?” I ask. “Between a Recruit and an Intern?”

  “Probably not much,” he says with a laugh. “Except, I don’t work with the Second Chancers. Instead I’m bogged down in tabletwork hundreds of files long. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Are you from here?” I ask, interested to know whether he’s an Earthling or Theran.

  “That’s a long and complicated story. Let’s just say that my parents live in the city and I spend my summers here,” he says with a tone that leads me to believe he doesn’t love the arrangement. He takes a couple deep breaths and adds, “How are you enjoying the program? Being treated well? Did you get a decent partner?”

  “So far, so good,” I say. “It’s a lot to take in. And I got a fabulous partner—Kira. She’s amazing. Smart, organized, fun—and beautiful.” Have to keep up the illusion that Kira and I are an item for anyone who might be listening in. I blush and I stop myself from bragging too much. He looks unhappy, seems to be clenching his teeth. Maybe he got a not-so-perfect partner.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that a guy has fallen in love with his female counterpart,” he says. And then in a hushed tone he adds, “Just be careful. If you Cleave her, your placement here becomes permanent.”

  “I know that and I never said I was in love with her,” I object, grimacing at the ‘L’ word that I decided never to use again after my Bailey ordeal. Gads. Why would he assume that? So I occasionally have unclean thoughts about her. Who wouldn’t? The girl’s gorgeous. Her strawberry blond hair falls into curls without electronic help, although she’s equally pretty when she straightens her hair. Her green and gold eyes are large and widespread. She has lush, full lips. Distinct cheekbones with a sprinkling of freckles that give her a touch of the ‘all-American girl’ image. Her body is fabulous, with plenty of curve and muscle, but zero fat. She’s neither too short nor too tall. And that’s just her looks. Her personality’s even better with an incredible combination of smart, flirty, fun, and nice. Almost too nice, in fact. She gets more upset at her tablet than any person. With people she seems to have an automatic filter that keeps her from saying an unkind word, except where Ted Rosenberg is concerned.

  “There’s some girls that just have that effect on guys,” he says. “I should know. I fell for a girl like that myself. I met her at a party and knew she was the perfect girl for me. Now I’m ruined for life. I don’t even want to ever look at another girl.” I hear the men of Thera collectively rejoicing, myself included.

  I size him up. The men of Thera, Earth and every other planet in the universe would feel even safer if this boy was Cleaved and off-limits for the eternities. “Shouldn’t you already be Cleaved? You sure look older than eighteen.”

  “I fall under a different jurisdiction, although my parents would love to have me Cleave anyway,” he says, getting a little fidgety. He’s staring at his hands and running his fingers across his thumbs in a nervous manner.

  “So why not Cleave this girl you are so madly in love with?” I ask. Maybe he just needs a little push in the right direction. “Does she feel the same way?”

  He chokes out the words. “I thought she did… feel the same way, but my parents have forbidden me from seeing her—for now at least—so it’s not like I can even ask her.”

  “Why would they do that?” I ask. Perhaps I should have a little chit-chat with his parental units. After I barricade the guy in the locker room so that he doesn’t have a chance to come out and meet Kira. I realize I’m being ridiculously territorial over a girl I’ll never have a future with, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “My parents think she has had too much going on and that I’d just be a distraction,” he says. “Plus, they’re not sure I’m worthy of her.” Let me get this straight. He’s plenty old enough to make his own decisions, but is letting his parents keep him from his one true love? Seriously, dude, grow a backbone.

  “Not worthy? That sounds like a bunch of crap,” I say.

  “I was born with a heart defect and the doctors didn’t think I’d make it. It took a bunch of surgeries to fix the problem. Now my parents have a bunch of people trying to convince them that I’ll saddle my future mate with bad genes and that all our babies will be born defective like me,” he says. I think back to what Ted said about Assisted Pregnancies being all about making sure only healthy babies get born. Was Ethan the impetus for this rule or an exception to it, I wonder.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say. “Why do you listen to them?”

  “The punishments my parents dish out aren’t worth the rebellion,” he says with a shudder, as if he’s picturing being waterboarded or having toes chopped off or something. He’s an adult and his parents still punish him? Uh, he really needs to get a life. Of course, I’m only two months away from being eighteen and I’m doing my father’s bidding, so who am I to judge?

  “Your parents know her? The girl?” I ask.

  “My dad does,” he says. “She, uh, kind of works for him. So he thinks he knows what’s best for both of us.” Well, there was your first mistake—falling for one of daddy’s employees.

  “I hear you on the father front. My dad’s super controlling, too,” I say, trying to make him feel like less of a wimp than he clearly is. “Aren’t you worried that the girl might fall for someone else while your parents have their moratorium going on?”

  “That’s exactly what keeps me up at day,” he says. “It would kill me if I lost her to another guy.” I nod at him. Poor guy. I feel for him. Kind of. He definitely got himself into a crappy situation.

  “So you’re ready for the whole deal—commitment, kids, the works?” I ask.

  “I never thought I’d be saying it and certainly wasn’t before I met her, but yes. For this girl, definitely. I’d do anything. Unless I’d felt that mind-blowing, world-altering connection with her, I wouldn’t have even considered it. If I’m going to be with someone forever, she’s got to be the one and only, you know. And this girl is, no question,” he says. “She’s all I can think about.” What a sap. But he’s right, if you’re going to be forced to be with someone for freaking decades, that person would have to be pretty perfect.

  “Wow. I’m so not there yet. Just the thought scares the crap out of me,” I say. Now it’s my turn to shudder.

  “All the more reason to keep your impulses in check then,” he says with a half-cocked grin. “All it takes is one slip-up here and there’s no do-overs.”

  “Well, hey. I’ve got to go meet back up with Kira. We get to go walk the canyons and it’s my favorite time of the nig
ht,” I say.

  “I bet. You take care of her—your partner. She sounds pretty incredible,” he says. I can’t help but give him a slightly evil glare, as I don’t want this guy to even be thinking of Kira at all, much less to think she’s incredible.

  “Sure,” I say as I get out and shake off the water before grabbing a towel. “Good luck with your girl. I hope it works out between the two of you.”

  “Me, too. I’ve just got to be patient and trust that it will,” he says, though his head and shoulders are slumped, body language that screams defeat.

  Man, I hope I’m never in a situation like his. What if I did fall for Kira? What if I couldn’t be with her and she fell for another guy? I wince at the thought of being so smitten that I’d lose sight of the important things in life. Like winning freedom for the Exilers.

  The grave is but a covered bridge leading from light to light, through a brief darkness.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kira

  I am so frustrated. This whole fake relationship with Blake is getting to me. Right now, I don’t know what to think.

  Blake makes me breakfast every night. I make dinner. He flirts constantly. I pretend to pretend to love it, since I actually do relish the idea of someone liking me. And he’s very interesting—well versed in many topics so that we never run out of things to talk about. We walk every night in the canyon, starting well before dawn. All the hand holding, brushing of my cheek with his fingers, kisses on the cheek, and longingly looking into my eyes while discussing our conspiracy theories is making me a little psycho. I have no idea if it’s really all for show or if he actually has feelings for me. I get the strong impression he hasn’t made up his mind either way. Attraction wise, he falls short of Ethan, but he’s grown on me. Personality wise, I’m less sold. He avoids personal topics to the extent that I feel he’s hiding something and his temper’s volatile. Sweet one minute and snippy the next, although he snaps out of it quickly—as if he’s been trained to maintain the illusion of stability. This makes me wary. I’m not sure I can trust him.