by Lynne Matson
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But Paulo. They set his leg okay, right?”
“Right.” Skye sighed.
“How many days was I out?”
“Almost three.”
Same as last time, I thought. I wondered when Paulo would wake.
A quiet moment passed. Long, but not uncomfortable.
Out of the dark, Skye said, “I’m sorry about Talla.”
I sucked in air, having trouble finding some. “Me too.”
Another long pause. The ocean’s rumble filled the gap.
“Did you love her?” Skye asked.
I leaned back down and cradled my head in my palms. “I think I could’ve,” I answered finally. “But I never got the chance.”
“I’m so sorry,” Skye said. She slid back down, too, propping her head on her hand.
Neither of us spoke.
“Did you know that she saved Miya?” I asked.
“No.” Skye’s whisper was soft.
“She did. Miya was being chased by a wolf. Talla saw Miya running with the wolf after her, and Talla chased them both. She caught up with them and attacked the wolf. It bit her arm during the fight, clean through to the bone. Dislocated her shoulder, too.” I fell silent. “She died from the infection. And we didn’t have the tea to help her then. I think it would’ve eased her passing.”
I realized I wasn’t clenching my fists. The pain had eased, but I still felt the scar. I always would. Bart wasn’t worthy of a mention.
“That’s awful,” Skye said.
“It was. But sometimes I wonder what Miya’s destiny is. Why Nil chose her. Miya’s brilliant—like Jason, but different. He’s got the mind of an engineer. He wants to go to the Naval Academy and fly jets. But Jason says Miya wants to be a surgeon.” I stopped, surprised at the info I was spilling. Maybe that’s what happens when you sleep for nearly three days. Pent-up words burst out like water.
“She makes the nets, right?” Skye asked.
“Right.” I thought about all Miya had done. “She’s so much stronger now than she was when she first came.”
“Most people are,” Skye said quietly.
I rolled over to look at Skye. Her insight was spot-on. “You know what Maaka said? He told me the island only tests those with the strength to survive. It sounds like a crock, but sometimes it fits. Then again, it doesn’t guarantee survival, either.”
Skye studied me in the dark. “Sounds like a Nil truth.”
I nodded. “Number five. Tomorrow’s not a given, especially here.”
“Or anywhere, really,” she murmured.
I wondered if she was thinking of her uncle.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I said.
Skye nodded.
“What happened to your uncle?”
“What happened to him or how did he die?” she asked.
“Both, I guess.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “He was base jumping off the Sydney Harbor Bridge.” Her voice was so low I strained to hear it. “His parachute malfunctioned. It opened too late. He hit the water so hard it knocked him out, and then his chute dragged him under. He drowned.” She glanced at the cheetah pelt covering her legs. “Since I read his journal, I can’t stop wondering whether he was jumping to feel fear or feel alive. Because the last line of his journal reads I fear nothing.” She lifted her eyes to mine. Hers looked slightly haunted. “Is that a Nil truth, Rives? That everyone leaves here different? That everyone leaves here fearless? With no regard for living?”
“No.” My whisper was firm. “I mean sure, everyone who leaves is different. How can you not be? Every experience changes you in some way. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. That’s more of a life truth than a Nil truth. But no, I don’t think Nil makes everyone lose their fear. Sharpens it, maybe. Makes you figure out what’s really worth fearing.”
The ghosts in her eyes retreated into the past.
“How many Nil truths are there?” Her lips relaxed, almost into a smile.
“Ten.” The number popped into my head without thinking.
“Seems to be a popular number here.” She quirked her eyebrow. I knew she was thinking of the deadsleep tea minute count. I thought of the number sequence on the cavern wall: 3-2-1-4. A strange island ten. “True.”
“You want to know something?” Skye tipped her head, as if she were trying to see the sky. “My birthday is February tenth. I’ll be eighteen.”
Something inside me twisted.
“Want to know something weirder?” I said. “My birthday is December tenth. I just turned eighteen a few weeks ago.”
She looked surprised. “For some reason I thought you were older.”
I grinned. “I get that a lot.”
She yawned.
“Go back to sleep, Skye,” I said quietly, getting up, careful not to step on her as I moved. She was just that close. “I’m gonna get some food. I’ve slept enough for the night.”
“Try not to eat anything starting with the word dead,” she said dryly.
“Sushi for me then.” I grinned. “And keep an eye on your boyfriend.” I pointed to Paulo.
Skye picked up an empty coconut cup and threw it at me. I caught it one-handed and smiled. “Thanks. I’d forgotten where I left my cup when I passed out.”
With a groan, she flopped back onto the bed. “You’re impossible,” she grumbled.
I had the oddest visual of Skye lying on top of me. In bed.
Out of my head, Nil, I thought.
Outside, Dex wandered around the firepit, a halfhearted watch in progress. He looked as exhausted as Skye. To my surprise, he wasn’t on watch alone. Jillian sat by the firepit, her chin resting on her hands.
They both looked up at once.
“Welcome to the land of the living, Rives,” Dex said, waving his torch. “What’s on your agenda today? Lion wrestling? Traipsing around active lava vents? Noshing on dodgy berries?” Dex raised an eyebrow.
Jillian walked up and stuck her finger in my chest. “Are you trying to go out in a blaze of stupid? Do you have a death wish? What’s going on in here?” She tapped my forehead, hard. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking you needed to set Paulo’s leg,” I said. “And you did, right?”
Dex’s jaw hardened. “Bloody hell, Rives. Yes, we set the poor bloke’s leg. And yes, he’s still out. But the risk.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple convulsing. “Jills nearly had a stroke, not to mention Skye. The three of us sat around, counting down the minutes, waiting to see if the next breath would be your last. A Nil nightmare, that was. Never again, mate.” His voice shook.
I nodded. Never again.
Jillian’s eyes narrowed. “So do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a death wish.”
“No.”
“I wish I could believe you.” She searched my eyes, then sighed. “Would you please give up the damn tea?”
“Done,” I said.
“Really.” Dex’s tone was droll. “Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
Jillian stared at me, like she was trying to figure it out. To figure me out. “Okay, well, good.” She paused. “You should know Skye never left your side. I think you freaked her out pretty hard. I don’t think you should put her through that ever again. When she wakes, you should tell her you’re sorry.”
“Already did,” I said.
“Excellent,” Dex said, walking over. Jillian gave me a long, searching look as Dex handed me his torch. “I relinquish the job of Leader to its rightful owner. I’m bloody exhausted, and you’ve slept enough for the two of us.”
“See you in the morning,” Jillian said quietly. She still studied me like an equation she was working to solve. With a yawn, she followed Dex. They disappeared into Natalie’s old hut, his hand gently touching the small of her back as he let her go first.
Interesting, I thought.
Another possible Nil shift while I
slept.
Alone, I paused to listen, breathing in the Nil night. No chirps, no howls, just steady waves booming onto shore. Above me the moon hung high. Waxing gibbous, if I remembered my astronomy correctly. No crescent.
Skye would know, came the thought.
I walked over to the Wall. Skye’s name stood out, the last one carved. Four letters, etched forever.
Somehow her name on the Wall made her presence more real—and more fragile. More frightening. Like Nil had finally laid claim to Skye, like her uncle twenty years before.
I scoured the Wall for Rika but came up empty. She never made it onto the Wall.
But she’d been here, I knew.
Like Maaka.
I didn’t have to look to know his name wasn’t on the Wall.
How many others came and went but never touched the City? And more importantly, why?
CHAPTER
44
SKYE
DAY 15, MORNING
I woke to face an empty bed. Rives was gone. But I knew he was alive, awake, and more like himself.
I hoped he’d keep his promise.
Jillian swept into the hut with a pitcher and cup as I yawned. “Breakfast,” she whispered, grinning. “We come bearing food.”
Dex followed, carrying a platter of baked fish, roasted pineapple, and coconut chunks that smelled like heaven. “With all that staring at half-dressed men, you must be famished.” He winked.
“Ha,” I said, glaring weakly at Dex.
He laughed as Jillian punched him playfully. “Stop,” she scolded. Dex caught her fist and kissed it with a grand bow.
Blushing, Jillian turned to me and frowned. “Skye, you’re starting to look worse than he does.” She waved her hand toward Paulo. “You need to eat, and then sleep.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “I really did sleep last night. Promise.”
Jillian raised her eyebrows. “Okayyyy.”
Dex set the plank beside me on the bed. “Any sign of life from our guest?” He tilted his head toward Paulo.
“None. When do you think he’ll wake up?” I asked. “Rives woke up in the middle of the night.”
“I know,” Jillian said. “But as for Paulo, no clue. He’s hurt, his body is healing, so does that make the tea last longer or be absorbed faster?” She pulled on one of her braids. “But I’m not surprised that Rives woke first. Pound per pound, he got a slightly lighter dose.”
I thought about that. “I don’t know. I think Rives drank more; I remember his cup being slightly fuller.”
“Idiot,” Dex muttered.
Rives stuck his head in and grinned. “You need me, Dex?” His green eyes twinkled.
“We all do, mate. Preferably alive.” Dex gave Rives a pointed look.
“At least he’s done with that awful tea,” I said.
Dex looked at me curiously. “Is he, now?”
I nodded. “He promised me last night he wouldn’t drink it again.” I glanced at Rives. Lounging against the doorframe, arms crossed but relaxed, he watched me, a hint of a smile touching his lips, his eyes holding that look that gave me chills. The one that said we were alone even when we totally weren’t.
“Skye?”
I whipped my eyes to Jillian.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to paddleboard before the wind kicks up. Want to come? The waves aren’t that big today.”
I hesitated. Jillian had been right. I loved paddleboarding; it was my new island obsession. Standing on a big huge board, on the calm water past the breaking waves, brought an amazing sense of peace—a peace so close to the water, a peace borne of the water—that I’d never expected. Nil had been full of surprises, not all of them terrible. I turned to Jillian, whose friendship was a Nil gift.
“I think I should stay with Paulo,” I said reluctantly. I felt Rives’s eyes still watching. Studying. “I’m the only one he knows here, and I think I should be here when he wakes up.”
“Makes sense.” Jillian nodded.
When I looked up, the doorway was empty. Rives was gone.
*
Paulo woke that afternoon. He sat up with a jolt. “Where am I?” he croaked.
“In the City,” I answered. “Here. Drink this.”
He thrust out his hand. “No way!” He eyed the cup with fear. “The last time you people had me drink something, the nasty stuff almost killed me!”
“No, that nasty stuff knocked you out so Jillian and Dex could set your leg without you feeling it.” I pointed to his splint, a crafty three-prong creation to fix his leg in place. “And thanks to them, you might actually be able to walk again.”
Paulo lay back on the bed and moaned.
“You need to drink and eat, and probably use the bathroom. Jason found a pair of crutches for you in the Shack yesterday. They’re by your bed.” I gestured to the foot of Paulo’s bed, where a pair of primitive wooden crutches fashioned from tree branches rested against the edge.
Paulo didn’t move. He stared at the ceiling.
“Why were you following us, anyway?” I asked.
No answer.
“Okay, well, why did you run away from that gate? You could’ve been far away from here by now. And no broken leg,” I added.
He jerked his head toward me. “Take a wild portal? Are you crazy? Those portals take people and those people disappear.”
I shook my head. “No, they just appear somewhere else. Not on the Death Twin island.” I looked pointedly at Paulo. It struck me that each of us had little knowledge of the other’s Nil, and some of what we thought we knew was wrong.
“Not always,” he said. His voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “Sometimes the wild portals kill people. Electrocutes them, steals their life force. I’ve heard the stories. I’m not stupid. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to die, either.”
“Those wild portals,” I said slowly, “are the only way home for most of us. It’s how most people got here, too. You, me, Maaka—we’re the exceptions, Paulo. No one else came here by that fancy portal that stood patiently waiting. And those wild portals? They only zap you if two people try to take the same one.”
Paulo frowned as the wheels turned.
“Yup,” I said, watching his expression shift as understanding dawned. “Those wild portals only take one person at a time. Your portal was different.” I paused. “But you already know that.”
Paulo said nothing. Sensing we were dangerously close to the let’s-all-take-your-special-portal territory that made Paulo clam up in a swift minute—or run, I thought, not that he could run now—I took a different tack.
“Why teenagers?” I asked. “Why only teenagers?”
“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?” he asked.
“Sure.”
For now, I thought.
Like he’d read my mind, Paulo sighed. “There are stories back in my homeland, tales passed down for generations. That portal has been alive for as long as my ancestors can remember; it was there when my people came to their island. Some say it is as old as the Earth; others say it was created on the eighth day. No one knows.” He shrugged. “It’s just always been.” He paused. “But many generations ago, as my people explored the islands around their own, someone stumbled across the portal for the first time. Specifically, the son of a king. The bravest of the brave. He walked through it and into this land. His cat—” Paulo glanced at me. “In our culture, each child is given a kitten at age seven, to protect and care for. Cats are a symbol of wisdom and luck.” His voice sounded respectful. I thought of the leopard and Archie, and didn’t feel that cats were lucky at all. “To have your cat join you is an honor.” He exhaled.
“Anyway, the prince’s cat had traveled with him in his canoe and followed him through the shimmering door. The king saw what happened, and tried to follow too, but by the time he got to the doorway between worlds, the portal had closed. Disappeared as if it never existed at all. People mourned the loss of the brave prince. The king banned eve
ryone from traveling to the island, saying it held evil spirits. But then the prince reappeared, months later. Older and stronger and wiser, with tales of a beautiful, faraway land where peace was plentiful. The next time the doorway opened, the king tried to enter, but he passed through the doorway like a ghost, still walking on Spirit Island. The doorway denied him.” Paulo looked at me. “Our people believe the prince left his mark on the gate. From that point forward, the gate only recognized people on the edge of adulthood. People with the ability to become something more.”
Teenagers, I thought.
“Like the prince imprinted on the gate,” I murmured. Had the gate been waiting there, waiting for someone—or something—to pass through? And had the cat altered the gate, too?
“Please,” Paulo said. He sounded tired. “Go. And tell no one what I told you. I’ve broken our rules by telling you our secret history.” He gave a weird little laugh. “But everything’s been messed up since you followed me through the door. It’s not the way I thought it was supposed to be.”
“Most things aren’t,” I said.
Paulo’s story swirled though my mind, another Nil world to mesh with the ones I already knew. The worlds blended and knit, the past and the present, a shifting kaleidoscope of time and people and island scenes, all with meaning I needed to see. Potential futures flickered like images I couldn’t quite catch.
“Please go,” Paulo said. He was watching me, a lost expression making him look younger than Jason.
He still looked broken, in more ways than one. But he was here, with the potential to be more.
“Paulo, you’re going to be okay,” I said softly. “I believe that with all my heart. And I promise I’ll always be honest with you. Friendships are built on truth. And because I’m going to be honest, I want you to know that I can’t agree to keep what you told me a secret. People who’ve been stuck here with questions deserve to know; people who didn’t ask to come.”
Paulo looked ready to cry. “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“You say that a lot.” My voice was calm. “But we all have choices, even when it seems like we don’t. And this choice is mine. There are so many good people here, Paulo, all wondering why they’re here. If what you know helps them sleep at night, I’m all for it. Information is usually meant to be shared.” I paused. “But at the same time, I respect your history and your privacy. So I promise you that I’ll only tell the people I trust most, okay? Like the people who set your leg. And for what it’s worth,” I said slowly, thinking of Dad’s Micronesian map with myriad tacks, all hunting for the elusive Nil, “I think secrecy is what’s gotten everyone into trouble.”