daynight

  “We wholeheartedly disagree,” Doc responds. “But, the conversation’s moot anyway since you’ll never get into the city. Your idiotic plan to send your men across the Eco barrier on stilts will never work. You’ll just alert the SCI to your presence and/or blow yourselves to bits.”

  “Actually, thanks to my son we now have a way into the city that doesn’t involve stilts at all. We plan to build a ladder and enter in on the canyon ledge Blake found.” Great. I seem to give my dad all his bad ideas. Unintentionally, of course.

  “With all your guns and equipment? That ledge is fourteen inches wide at most from what Blake told me,” Doc says, holding up his hands to show how small fourteen inches is.

  “It will take time, but it can be done,” my father says.

  I’ve heard enough. I step out to address the group.

  “That’s crazy,” I say to my father. “It took me hours to inch up that ledge.”

  “You did it in a rainstorm,” my father says. “Stay out of this, Blake.” He motions for me to exit.

  “No. You put me front and center of your plan without informing me that there was any alternative. I have to agree with Doc. The SCI has greater capabilities than they’re letting on. They killed a whole party full of kids to get my partner, Kira, to Thera. That kind of extreme action doesn’t come from a government with lax security,” I say. “Their technology seems sophisticated.”

  “Advanced technology won’t help them when they don’t have weapons or forces,” my father says. “Back off. You gave us what we needed and I won’t have a seventeen year-old kid who doesn’t know squat telling us what to do.”

  “Well, if you don’t need me, then I think I’ll be going at first dark,” I say.

  “There’s still work you need to do to prepare for our coup. I expect you to do what you are asked,” my father says in a threatening tone.

  My father wants me to find a way to permanently or temporarily disable the barrier, in case they need to retreat quickly. If Garden City authorities are pursuing them the Militants won’t want to take the time to exit by the canyon shelf. He directs me to put the screws to Ted and get his help in accessing headquarters.

  I stand by as the Militant leaders finalize their plans for entering the city, while individual units practice maneuvers. The Survivalists are forced out of the cave at first dark by gunpoint, although Doc Daryn is allowed to stay. Despite the harsh feelings between the two groups, Doc is still one of my father’s oldest friends and the best doctor in the region.

  Doc addresses me when my father is twenty hours into his strategy meeting and well occupied with his ‘generals.’ Whereas I’m ready to crash, he looks well rested. His wet hair smells like saltwater and looks like a limp jellyfish. “You don’t need to do your father’s bidding any more, you know.” He pauses to reflect before continuing, “His approach is all wrong and I would hate to see you caught in the crossfire of his harebrained plan.”

  “Right now I just want to get back in the city,” I say. “If I don’t I’ll have a lot worse problems than dealing with my dad and his crazies. The SCI will kill me if I can’t explain my whereabouts.”

  The doctor turns to me with a hopeful gaze. His grip on my arm is so tight that it’s cutting off my circulation. “You could be invaluable to our efforts in negotiating with the SCI,” he says. “If we could guarantee the Exilers a better future without using force… if they could see that we aren’t a threat, but as a neighboring country….” His voice trails off. He looks away and drops his hand as he sees me shake my head.

  “I get it,” I say. “But it wouldn’t even help. Recruits are pretty low down on the hierarchy. How’d it get like this? The Militants and Survivalists? Is it as bad as it looks?”

  “Worse,” Doc says. “The split happened a couple years after you left. Your dad and his crew moved here and we stayed back in the canyon. I assure you, though, that the majority of the Exilers want a peaceful existence, without violence. I wasn’t lying when I said I had more than ten thousand with me. Your dad has about three hundred. Unfortunately, they’ve stolen all but a small stash of our weaponry, so we’ve been powerless, despite our numbers.”

  “I’m all for peace, but what about the Second Chancers? How does your plan help them? If you simply coexist with the SCI, you help the Exilers at the expense of everyone else the SCI is oppressing,” I say. He purses his lips. No one likes to be asked the hard questions.

  “One step at a time, Blake,” he says. “If we’re recognized as an alternate entity on Thera we can grow in power and prosper. Then we’ll have the strength to consider other options.” That’s all fine and good, but in the meantime a lot of people, including Kira, will suffer. From the expression on his face I can tell he knows his plan is deficient, but that he doesn’t see a viable solution to help the Second Chancers right now.

  We talk for a long while about the split of the Exilers and how it came to pass. And more about Doc’s ideas to keep the peace. Although I think both sides are a little extreme in their stances, Doc seems to have thought things through better than my father. He refuses to confirm that the Militants were responsible for the death of his Cleave, though he didn’t have to. The expression on his face when I asked spoke louder than any words he could offer.

  I grow weary of the planning exercise and retreat to the cave next door and collapse on an old tarp in a dark corner that reeks like dead fish. It’s critical that I get a few hours sleep before I attempt to return to Garden City, and to Kira. I have some begging of forgiveness to do.

  To prepare for reentry, Doc scrapes the silvery burn ointment from my skin. As it pops blistery welts across my back, I scream in agony. It’s not that he or I want to shun good medical treatment, but that I can’t explain it. And if I can’t explain it, it has to go. Hopefully I’ll be found before sunrise. I’m not sure I can handle the pain of one hundred fifty degree sun on my burns.

  On night two of my visit to my father, I get ready to depart. If I wait any longer, it’s less likely the SCI rescuers will still be searching for me. My plan counts on being found. I want the SCI to assume I’d been too disabled to return home myself. That way I won’t have to explain my disappearance.

  I put back on my party attire—what’s left of it—wishing the flash flood had happened during school hours. My regular school uniform would provide much better sun protection. Oh well, got to work with what I have. I drink a full flask of water and gnaw on a hard biscuit before bidding farewell to the Exiled Militants, and to Doc. My father tells me to ignore anything Doc Daryn said. He also emphasizes that his life and the lives of his people are in my hands and that failure isn’t an option. Really, Dad? I’m glad you mentioned it, because I really haven’t felt the pressure until now. I hope Kira’s wrong and I don’t have a whole host of children being grown in some Garden City lab. The only thing parents can possibly offer their child is disappointment, unrealistic expectations, and heartache.

  The sand feels hot on my feet, having ditched my uncomfortable party shoes back in the river. I jog down the beach towards the Eco barrier. Depending on whether I can see a partial pattern, I’ll decide whether to swim around or try to cross it. The sun’s lingering above the horizon and sizable waves are crashing onto the beach fifteen feet away. Too bad I don’t have my surfboard here. Given it is high tide most the barrier is covered by the waves. I wonder if I could body surf it? If I swam out and across, I could potentially clear the barrier if I rode a big one in.

  Despite piles of debris, I can make out sections of the pattern. The storm must have eroded the soil covering it. Either I’ve remembered incorrectly, or the layout has shifted. It’s almost as if each detonator has moved ninety degrees on an axis from where I’d expect them to be, creating a completely new pattern. I stare, trying to figure out an explanation, when the detonators shift again. Some shift ninety degrees clockwise, others counterclockwise. I openly curse my father’s naive assumption that I could ever cross the barrier on stilts. All that
insane training in the desert was for nothing.

  Even though it delays any futile attempt to cross, I wait out the next adjustment. I don’t have my watch, but my best guess would be five minutes between rotations. My father definitely underestimated the intelligence of the SCI. Had I not found that canyon ledge, they’d have all died trying to cross the barrier. Best case, it would take me twenty minutes to cross with stationary detonators. It’s impossible with randomly rotating ones, as the movements can’t be anticipated. The barrier is foolproof.

  That leaves my original idea of body surfing over the barrier. The barrier remains in tact, even under water, per the folks I spoke to at the scale model of the city. In low tide the barrier is completely exposed on the beach. In high tide, it’s at least partially covered with water. My hope is that if I catch a big enough wave that I can clear the barrier when I come crashing in. I’d swim farther to the South where the ships come in, as there is no barrier there, but in place of the barrier is a solid, sliding wall that only opens to let ships in and out of the docks.

  Because I waste the remnants of sunlight studying the shifting patterns, I have to enter the water at twilight, which will make it more difficult to see what’s coming.

  No time like the present to die. I have zero desire to return to my father’s cave to tell him I gave up without trying. The exit portal to Earth is a three-night journey. Even if I could remember the exact route, I have no supplies. And I couldn’t leave Kira on Thera without attempting to rescue her. So, my decision’s made before I can second-guess it.

  I wade out into the ocean and the salt assaults every open wound. Clenching my teeth to keep from screaming, I dive under an incoming wave, and swim out twenty yards to keep the surf from prematurely pushing me to shore. Then I swim south fifty yards to clear the North border of the Eco barrier. I tread water for a few minutes waiting for the right swell.

  “Here goes nothing,” I say to the unseen ocean life.

  The wave’s a good pick. I swim with all my might to catch the crest, silently pleading with the Gads to deliver me safely on the other side of the barrier.

  No such luck. The Gads must side with the SCI. I crash ashore right atop several detonators. They ignite immediately. The water absorbs a chunk of the lethal fumes. Not enough to protect my exposed areas, however. I can feel the skin melting from my arms and back, unprotected by my threadbare party vest. I’m not there for more than a second, however, as the combination of the blast and the next wave catapults me like I’m one of those dudes who flies out of cannons. When I land again, I realize I’ve cleared the remaining detonators, but the damage has already been done. If I’m not found quickly, there’s no question I’ll die. With my last bit of energy, I roll through the sand towards the canyon mouth. I hope the sand can mitigate the effects of the poison. Plus, I don’t want to risk a larger wave sucking me back towards the barrier.

  Help arrives quickly. Detonating the barrier must have set off alarms. The rescue team attempts to ask me what happened, but I’m too weak to speak. I can barely breathe, my lungs filled with burning gas. Head’s pounding. Vision’s blurry. Whispers of my bleak situation abound. Unstable heart rate. Severe chemical and sunburns. Scant breath tones and pulse. Unresponsive.

  I’m transported on a board and by mule through the canyon. Brad Darcton and Ted Rosenberg await me at the burn unit. They chat while doctors clean and douse me with chemicals to diffuse the poison.

  “Will he make it?” they ask the doctors.

  “It’s too early to say. We’ll do everything we can. But it may not be enough,” one of the doctors replies. Nice that the doctor is so optimistic.

  “It’s time to have Ethan show her the video and then distract her with a trip back home,” Brad Darcton says to Ted. Ethan? She said she didn’t know him. Was she lying? She certainly knows some Ethan by the way she looked at me when I asked her about him.

  “You sure? Shouldn’t we wait to play that card until we know if Blake lives or dies?” Ted responds.

  “No. We play the card now so that we have her under control if he dies. Ethan’s my pick for her anyway. He’s equally qualified,” Brad says.

  “But he’s not all of the Ten’s pick,” Ted says. “Some think you’re biasing the panel because he’s your son.”

  “At this point he’s got the vote. Besides, I hardly think you’re in a position to counsel me about Ethan or the girl. If Blake lives, then we’ll see where the girl’s at and adjust our strategy as necessary,” Brad says.

  Did I hear that right? Is Ethan the Intern really Brad Darcton’s son and pick for Kira’s Cleaving? It’s too much to take in and I drift off to sleep, ready for the night when I can muck with all of Brad Darcton’s plans.

  Have the courage to live. Anyone can die.

  Robert Cody

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kira

  Three zips. Two trains. A long mule ride. A short hike. All blindfolded and attached to College Boy. Obviously the powers that be do not want me to know the route to the exit portal. I spend the time in silent meditation hashing through the pathetic details of my life. And stressing over Blake’s fate. I’m beating myself up for begging to leave Thera instead of waiting to hear whether they find him. Call me a wimp but I can’t. Can’t hide out waiting for a knock on the door bringing bad news or risk a confrontation with Tristan or Briella. What do I even say to them? They have zero memory of the crap they pulled, so I’ll never get an apology. Guys can be real idiots, but what’s Bri’s excuse? Something lame like ‘I saw him first,’ I’m sure. Whatever. I just have to put it out of my mind for a while and enjoy time off this God forsaken planet. Ironic that I left Earth to escape my memories of them and now I’m fleeing Thera to do the same.

  Ethan removes my blindfold once we’re well into a dimly lit tunnel.

  “Sorry about that,” he says. “Security protocol.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want the Recruits leaving Thera. You’d have people sneaking off to go out to dinner. Or shop. They might even try to smuggle back in contraband like music or games or something,” I joke.

  “Funny, yes, we can’t have that,” he says. “Here’s some clothes to change into. You can’t wear your Theran clothes home.” He hands me a bag.

  “You expect me to change here? In front of you?” I say, my cheeks flush with color. “I don’t think so.”

  “Please, if you want to go home, you’ll do as I ask. I’ll turn away to give you some privacy,” he says. How thoughtful.

  I partway undress and then peek at Ethan to see if he’s peeking at me, and catch a glimpse of him with his shirt off. He’s changing, too. Wow. I hesitate to take in the vision and allow myself to remember the way I’d felt about him when we first met, and how he took my breath away. A silvery scar on his chest—likely from some sort of surgery—serves as the only blemish on his otherwise perfect body.

  He finally notices me watching him and we lock eyes for a moment, but then he sees I’m half dressed, swallows hard, bites his lip, and turns away. I quickly finish stripping down and replace my Garden City High uniform with a t-shirt, sweater, pair of jeans, and some flats. All my size, but not my original clothing.

  “All set,” I say as I hand him the bag filled with my discarded attire. He’s now in low rider jeans, a tight fitting long-sleeved blue t-shirt and knit cap. The look works on him. A garbage bag would work on him. He’s a Darcton, I remind myself. The Ten gave him this assignment. He may or may not be responsible for my friends’ deaths. I can’t allow myself to be attracted to him; need to bury my feelings for his alter ego.

  “Excellent,” he responds, throwing my bag to the side while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go.”

  “Thera’s no place like home. Thera’s no place like home. Thera’s no place like home,” I say while clicking my heels together. “Didn’t work. I don’t have the right shoes. Can I get some red sparkly ones?” I frown and cross my arms defensively.

  He tries to hide his s
mile, but his shimmery sapphire eyes defy him. “Sorry, all out, Dorothy. Just walk the corridor and wait for me in the room with the light at the other side.” Even though he’s dressed now, I can’t get the image of half-naked Ethan out of my brain. How can someone so beautiful be spawned by someone so evil?

  As excited as I am to go home, I can’t believe I have to be chaperoned. By Brad Darcton’s son. The Ten must really not trust me to behave while home. I could cause all manner of trouble for the SCI if I went to the press with my story. The headlines would be killer: ‘Second Chance Institute Front for Zombie Slavery Enclaves on Earth’s Sister Planet’; ‘Aliens Exist—But They’re Really Your Dead Friends.’

  To rebel against my orders ever so slightly, I launch into a light jog before doing a couple perfectly executed back hand springs, an aerial, and then a back flip into a large, circular room. The room’s round and paneled in cherry-colored wood. The electric sensation of the tunnel and parched feeling I’d gotten on the way in bothers me less on the way out. I look around and find the place odd. There’s a metal circular staircase that goes down to another level and a lot of seams in the panelling that seem unnatural, although there’s only a single opening where I came out and one doorway which is marked ‘EXIT’ in large red letters.

  Ethan’s out of breath when he gets through, so I figure I might as well use that exit and see exactly where I am. Another warehouse in the middle of the ocean? I skip through the doorway and up a windy staircase that leads to a trap door. I push it open, climb a rope ladder, and find myself at the end of a concrete jetty.

  “I know this place,” I say out loud, looking to my left to see the ocean and my right to see Children’s Beach in La Jolla from the jetty I’m standing on. A wave hits the sea wall and douses me with water. I feel cold for the first time in weeks. The sky is just turning light blue as the dawn breaks and dozens of seals are littered across the beach, less than twenty minutes from my parent’s house. I love to come here to watch the seals, even if it’s a huge controversy for the city. The space had been designated to be a children’s swimming beach before the seals took over. What an odd place for an exit portal. Of course, the portal existed long before La Jolla and the jetty may have been built to help Daynighters get to shore with ease.