Parched

by Georgia Clark

  He shakes his head, voice low. “Nothing.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I say, trying not to sound worried. “That pink phase was pretty unfortunate, right?”

  His eyes finally rise to meet mine. In them is distance. Caution. Regret. He takes his hand out of mine, as unemotionally as if he were taking back a piece of scratch. “Let’s get ready to go.”

  My blood curdles in my veins. It’s my worst-case scenario: Hunter’s seen the real me, and he didn’t like it.

  He slips the conductor from my temples, which are now burning again. But not from the metal, which has turned ice cold.

  When Ling suggests I practice fast-roping while the others finish packing, I do it without question. I am focused and efficient. But I’m faking it. In reality, I’m a mess. Hunter saw something in my memories that he didn’t like. Was it Magnus? The feeling of my warm lips on his cool ones? Was it something to do with Izzy? My mom? How could I have been so stupid as to let someone in like that? It’s more than anyone, human or otherwise, can handle.

  As I scamper up and down Benji and Lana’s thick old rope, I watch Hunter carry the four bulky backpacks to the buzzcar. His tall, slender frame moves with a sharp gracefulness through the darkened backyard, illuminated only by the light spilling from inside. But he doesn’t look at me.

  Because Naz can’t rope down with only one arm, she won’t be coming with us. Instead, Ling, Bo, and I will set the bombs on the dam wall, while Achilles and Hunter run security and tech. After we leave, Naz will run one final check of Milkwood before abandoning it for good. Then she’ll meet up with the rest of Kudzu, who are already on their way to the Northern Bridge border crossing. If all goes according to plan, we’ll meet them a few miles from the crossing before dawn. I’m disappointed to hear we’re leaving Naz behind, a decision that was made while I was on my way to the South Hills. “Don’t worry, Rockwood.” She smirks, handing me half a dozen air rifles. “You’ll have plenty of time to piss me off when we’re out in the Badlands.”

  “Good,” I say. Having Naz by my side definitely makes me feel safer.

  She looks a little thrown by my reply, and then her eyes widen. “Almost forgot.” She shoves her hand into her pocket and pulls something out. It’s a Kudzu necklace. The little silver K on the bright red string. “Henny said to give you this.”

  I rest the air rifle butts on the ground so I can tie it around my neck. “Thank you,” I say, looking her right in the eye. “For everything.”

  She responds by brusquely clearing her throat. “You’re all right, Rockwood.”

  “You’re pretty badass yourself.” I smile. “You know—for a chick with one arm.”

  She’s startled for a second, then her face relaxes and she actually chuckles. “Go put the rifles in the car before I show you how a chick with one arm fights.”

  Ten minutes later, our little buzzcar is packed and ready to go. The backpacks belong to Ling, Achilles, Bo, and, surprisingly, me. “Gem packed it,” Ling explains. “Otherwise you’d be leaving with nothing.” We also have all of Benji and Lana’s roping equipment, a duffel bag of protective gear, the air rifles, some razers, and nine handmade explosives.

  Ling’s in the driver’s seat to save Hunter’s strength, although he’ll still have to use his power to keep the car off-cycle. Bo sits next to her.

  Achilles climbs into the backseat. “Guess I should sit in the middle,” I say to Hunter as we approach the car. “That way we’re together.”

  “Sit wherever you like.” His words are cool and detached, like they were when we first met. “It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  I forget how to breathe.

  As we take off from Milkwood into the jet-black sky, I can just make Naz out, waving goodbye, shouting, “Don’t get smoked!”

  We fly fast and low, following the silver curve of Moon Lake around to the north. Below us, Eden is dark and indistinct. Even now, jammed next to him with our hips and thighs touching, Hunter and I are apart. I keep screaming at myself, It does not matter; it is not your focus right now. But I can’t stop thinking about it. My mind scrapes obsessively over my deepest, darkest secrets, wondering which one pushed him away.

  We’re in the air less than ten minutes before Ling takes us down to the banks of Moon Lake. Unlike the rich black mud that covers the riverbanks at Milkwood, here the water greets the land at a narrow strip of pale yellow sand. The vegetation is less lush. A forest of thin white birch trees only as thick as my arm crowds the shore. We are close to the white city walls—they loom over us, only a stone’s throw away. The Three Towers are too far to see, and the handful of buzzcars above the Hive are no more than tiny darting lights.

  In my mind’s eye, I can see where we are: the northernmost tip of Eden, the only place where the lake just kisses the city walls, or used to, before the dam was built. I assume some kind of Divers built the dam, working from the bottom of the lake up. I picture their weird open mouths sucking out water from around the newly formed dam as it rose from the lake’s murky depths like a tombstone.

  We leave the backpacks in the car but take everything else. Ling leads the way up a narrow, sandy path through the trees—an animal track. It’s quiet and still, somewhere between peaceful and sinister. The ground rises as we jog, and eventually we start to curve around so that we’re no longer heading toward the white city walls, but are bending around until the walls are next to us. Finally we come out into a clearing at the bottom of a small hill. The grass rises before us, too steep to see what’s on the other side. We all know it’s the dam.

  “I’m going to use a white-noise frequency to scramble the Quicks’ hearing,” Hunter says quietly to Ling. “That way they won’t hear us. But let’s stay out of sight for now. I won’t start serfing them until we absolutely have to.”

  “Good idea,” Ling replies. “Everyone, leave the gear here. We’ll scope it out, then come back.”

  We do as she says. Following Ling’s lead, we get on our bellies and use our elbows and knees to snake up the hill. When we come to the top, I can see both the dam and the aqueduct.

  The entrance to the aqueduct is set in the city walls—a huge, yawning oval hole. At first, the Trust tried to block up the aqueduct itself, but it wasn’t structurally sound, so in the end, they built the dam. I remember the size of the dam from seeing it on the streams: one hundred feet high and fifty feet wide. Before the dam was created, the entrance to the aqueduct would not have been visible, as it is set below the water level. But now, water no longer flows through it. The tall, concrete dam stops the lake from entering the aqueduct. This is what we’ll be scaling down, and decorating with red bombs.

  Ling nudges me and jerks her chin toward the top of the dam. There, it is about ten feet wide. You could walk the length of it easily, with the lake on one side of you and the long drop down on the other. A sturdy waist-high railing runs along both edges of the top of the dam. She’s pointing for two reasons. First, because this is obviously where we will tie our ropes in order to scale the dam face and set the bombs. Second, because one hundred and eight Quicks are stationed along it, their red eyes sweeping endlessly back and forth.

  Hunter is studying everything carefully. He’s chosen to watch from the other side of the group, putting Ling, Bo, and Achilles between us.

  Ling snaps her fingers lightly to get my attention, jerking her head to the bottom of the hill. I follow her as we all slither down.

  Back in the clearing, Ling nods at the collection of circular red bombs. “Show Tess the merchandise.”

  Bo hands me one of the bombs, which I accept somewhat gingerly. It’s maybe four inches thick with a flat surface on one side and a large handle, like the kind on a suitcase, on the other. “We call these Red Devils,” Bo says. “The Devils are armed by a two-phase system. Ling, you, and I will set the first phase.” Taking it from me, he lays it flat on the grass with the handle running vertically. He begins explaining how they work, but I’m distract
ed by Hunter, who’s sitting opposite me. How could he pull away like this? His words ring in my ears: “There is nothing I could find out about you that would change how I feel.” Liar.

  “Tess?” Ling hisses. “Are you even listening?”

  I snap myself back and try to focus on what Bo’s saying. “Sorry. Can you say that again?”

  “Twist the handle clockwise so it’s horizontal,” he says patiently. “Then it’ll attach to the wall. I won’t do it now, or it’ll try to attach to the grass. You must make sure the Devil is perfectly flat against the surface of the dam before you twist the handle. If there are any gaps, it might fall. Once it’s attached, the bomb is set.”

  I nod. Twist the handle. Attach it to the dam. The bomb is set. Got it.

  Bo fishes in his pocket and pulls out a slim black box with a counter set to 120 and a small yellow switch. “When all nine bombs are in place, Achilles will activate them with this.”

  “How long do we have once they’re activated?” I ask.

  Bo points to the 120 setting. “One hundred and twenty seconds. Two minutes. Once the bombs have been activated, they cannot be switched off.” He stresses this last part, then addresses Achilles. “So you must only activate them once we are all off the dam.”

  Achilles nods, taking the sleek control even more gingerly than I took the bomb. “No trigger finger. Got it.”

  “Any questions?” Bo asks. “No? Then let’s gear up.”

  I start strapping on the guards I wore at Simutech: knee, shin, and elbow. The climbing gloves feel hot and itchy on my sweaty hands. I hesitate with the mask: our identity is no longer secret, and I don’t like losing so much peripheral vision, but the protective helmet still appeals. In the end, I slice away a large hole for my face, leaving the skull intact. Bo helps me loop three Red Devils across my body, secured by a thin chain. When I feel the weight of them, so close to my heart and powerful enough to crack concrete, the adrenaline kicks in for real. My heart rate picks up even more as Bo hands me the rope. I consciously try to slow it down. I can do this. Benji and Lana showed me how.

  We rise to stand in the clearing. Ling, Bo, and I are decorated with Red Devils and ropes. Achilles has the control and a stopwatch.

  Hunter stands a little away from us.

  “Tess?” Ling appears my side, making me jump. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  I swallow hard and lie. “Of course I am.”

  Her eyes slide suspiciously between Hunter and me. “Right. Achilles, Bo, and I are going to run a perimeter sweep, make sure there’s nothing we haven’t planned for. We’ll be five minutes.” When she turns back to me, her almond-shaped eyes flash deliberately.

  I nod in anxious understanding. Their three figures melt into the scrub, leaving Hunter and me alone.

  I close my eyes for a long moment to steel myself. The sky is turning a dirty gray, no longer true night, not yet morning. A light breeze carries the soft splish splish splish of the lake hitting the top of the dam. Then I say his name. He rotates toward me. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” he replies, voice strained. “Nothing we should talk about now.”

  “Considering it’s my memories that are freaking you out,” I snap back, “I’ll decide when we talk about them. And I’m saying it’s now.”

  His mouth works with anxiety, but no words come out, his gaze directed far above my head.

  “Hunter,” I plead, moving toward him. “Talk to me. I can’t handle you being like this. Not here, not now.”

  His eyes drop from the treetops down to mine. “All right,” he says at last. “It’s just that I don’t know if . . .” He drifts off, looking like he’s lost in some terrible thought.

  “Hunter.” I grasp his shoulders firmly. They are solid and strong beneath my fingers. “Just talk.”

  When he finally begins speaking, his voice is low and confessional and makes me want to shudder. “You had an aunt. An aunt who died when you were very young.”

  “Pascuala,” I say, dropping my hands. Abel’s only partner.

  “She died in childbirth. You went to her funeral. One of your first memories of sadness.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” I say, bewildered.

  “Did you know the boy survived?”

  “No.” I gape. Abel has a son?

  “For ten days,” Hunter clarifies. “Just ten days. You remember some of the conversations the adults were having at the time, but they didn’t make any sense to you back then. Seeing them now, it was clear—”

  “So what?” I shake my head. “Abel had a son who died. So what?”

  Hunter’s face as is bleak as death itself. He answers my question as if it physically pains him to do so. “Abel never told me who I was cloned from.” His mouth tightens. “Tess, you’ve seen photograms of Abel when he was my age.”

  I don’t really remember these, but I’ll take his word for it. “And?”

  “We look exactly the same,” Hunter says. “Tess. I think—no, I am sure—I am cloned from Abel’s son.”

  My mind whirs. “Which means . . . Which means we’re cousins?”

  “I’m a clone of your cousin,” Hunter clarifies quickly. “I am not a human being, so we are not cousins.”

  “You’re a clone of my cousin,” I repeat, the words thick and slow in my mouth. The ground seems to undulate beneath my feet, I can’t stop myself from saying the word a third time. “Cousin.”

  Hunter studies my face, positively stricken. “I knew it,” he says, more to himself than me. “I knew you’d feel this way.”

  I shake my head, trying to put this in perspective. A clone of my cousin. That’s not the same thing as cousin. But it’s not nothing.

  I look up at Hunter and suddenly I see Abel in his face. The same sharp nose, same piercing eyes. Add some lines and pounds and gray hair and—“Abel,” I breathe, horrified, “you look like Abel.”

  A low, distressed noise sounds from deep in his throat. “I didn’t want to tell you,” he says anxiously, “until after.”

  “So you just push me away till then?” I cry.

  “I didn’t know what to do!” he shouts, then drops his voice tersely. “It’s not exactly something they put in the ‘Welcome to Being an Artilect’ stream.”

  “There’s a welcome stream?” I blink, then realize that Hunter is finally learning sarcasm. “Well, you shouldn’t have turned to a block of ice like that. You really scared me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says intently, taking a step toward me. His eyes are burning, almost emerald. “I just . . . I just don’t know if this changes anything for you. Does it?”

  I rake my hands over my sweaty scalp. My face feels like it’s on fire. “I don’t know,” I moan. “I don’t know. How can I know?” My hands are trembling. “I’m about to blow up a dam. Hunter, how could you tell me this now?”

  “Because you told me to!” he exclaims, flinging both hands toward me in accusation. His cheeks are almost purple and in a flash I realize that’s because his blood is blue, not red like mine. He drops his face in his hands and groans with irritation. “How can you handle all these feelings?” His head snaps back up, hands balling into fists. “I’m experiencing a lot of very strange physical urges right now.”

  “To do what?” I ask, alarmed.

  He thinks for a second, lips pressed tight. “Hit something. Not you,” he adds quickly. His eyes light up with a realization. “Maybe another boy.”

  “Hunter, stop turning into a teenage guy,” I order him. “That’s really not helping right now.” I exhale, short and fast. “We have to do this,” I continue, gesturing to the three Red Devils that are still strapped to my chest. “We have to make this work.”

  “Right,” he says. “You’re right.”

  “Let’s just talk about it afterward, okay?”

  “Okay.” He nods.

  I wrench my thinking back to the bombs, to the dam, to Hunter serfing the Quicks.

  “How much mirror matter do you have
left?” I ask.

  “Enough to serf the Quicks for six minutes,” he replies.

  “Really?” I’m surprised. “It was half empty at Milkwood. Are you sure?”

  He nods. “I am.”

  Glancing behind me, I see the others returning. “Okay,” I say, but I’m worried. I can’t get in perspective how much energy Hunter needs to perform certain tasks. Is he lying to protect us?

  “Bo had an idea,” Ling announces to Hunter as the three of them rejoin us. “Why don’t you get the Quicks to set the bombs, instead of us?”

  Hunter shakes his head. “They’re not dexterous enough to climb the rope.”

  “What are you going to do with them?” asks Achilles curiously.

  “Putting them all to sleep is the only way I can do it with the power I have left,” Hunter replies. “But I’ll move them to the far side of the dam, to the scrub on the other side of the lake.”

  “Okay.” Ling nods. Her eyes flick between us searchingly. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I reply, meeting her gaze evenly. “Hunter can serf the Quicks for six minutes.”

  Achilles whistles. “Not much time. We need to be in the air by then, meaning you guys only have four minutes to set the bombs.”

  “We can do it.” Bo and Ling speak at the same time, and trade a confident grin. Ling says, “Four minutes to set the bombs, then Achilles activates them, giving us two more minutes to leave before they explode.” She turns to Achilles. “Ready?”

  Achilles holds up the black-and-yellow controller and the stopwatch. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Ling exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders. Bo jogs on the spot, cracking his neck.

  “Get to the top,” Ling says to Hunter. “Then give us a countdown of five before you start.”

  “Got it,” he replies. And that’s when he steps toward me. I don’t know if he means to kiss me or touch me or just wish me good luck. But I flinch. It’s an almost imperceptible freezing, but he sees it. Our eyes lock. Hunter’s face is a mask of surprise, of sadness, but also of a terrible sense of inevitability, as if he knows he’s lost me. My eyes fly to Ling. “If anything happens—”