The Dark Water

by Seth Fishman

  “You’re Keepers. This is what you do. Keep it safe.”

  The big man takes on a shrewd look, and I can see I’ve got him. He buys my logic, or wants to. He can let me go and save face. Arcos turns to the Keepers near him and shouts an order. They let out a cheer and rush off, dispersing in all directions.

  “They spread the news,” Lisa says. “We are to keep together once more.”

  Many of the Keepers were dazed by the flames and the fires. But as Arcos’s men run through their ranks, rallying everyone together, it’s as if a spell is broken. For the briefest of moments there’s a pause, and then the Keepers turn and run, straight to the sound of fighting, their bodies a blur of white and color, their sins forgotten. They run to do their duty, to protect the source.

  • • •

  Lisa makes to follow them, but Arcos takes her by the arm, his hand easily wrapping around her bicep.

  “You are a clan leader now. You cannot be risked,” he says, somewhat disdainful. She looks so small and young next to him. Her face frowns up in the rebellious way I’ve come to know, but she doesn’t fight him.

  “Girl,” he says to me, “make their hearts stronger.”

  I don’t get it, but then I feel him, pushing a flare of energy out of his body, and though I doubt the others can see it, I can. It zooms down the street, hitting Keepers in their backs, and I can feel their bodies surge faster, their colors glowing, their resolve strengthened.

  He holds out a shining hand, and I take it, feeling him work through me, using my source of energy. I see how he does it now, how he pulls from me to feed the women and men who rush off to fight. It feels strange, but familiar, like the way my body drains during a good swim.

  The Three weren’t just leaders, they made things happen. Just as they took from Keepers, their thoughts and visions, they also gave part of themselves to their people to ensure health and good spirits and strength. They literally were the heart and soul of the Keepers. I gasp, exhausted, and Arcos breaks contact. He looks winded, his face sagging, and he stumbles. His honor guard, three Keepers and Palu, are here with us. They catch him, hold him up.

  “We need to get him to safety,” Palu says.

  Arcos shakes his head. “No, we are the Keepers of the Source. I must be here.”

  They look dubious but stand down.

  “I’m not staying here,” Jo says. “I’m not going to just sit and wait. The Keepers have this under control—now’s our chance to get back to the Cave without Sutton waiting for us.”

  “She’s right,” Brayden says softly in my ear.

  Rob’s watching me, waiting for orders. They’ve seen the change in me, and I wonder if they’re afraid at all.

  “We go. I should never have brought you here.” I pause, a pain welling in my chest. I don’t want to look at Dad; his body seems empty and unreal. I don’t want to say good-bye.

  “Little one, sister of mine,” Arcos says, his deep voice genuinely worried, his pale face paler. I’m surprised at him, but then again, he just sucked my energy out of me to help his people. He was in me and my mind. Maybe he knows I’m not his enemy. “Stay. You can learn from me. I can teach you of your powers, of what you can or cannot do, of what life flows through you. You can keep. The others will go.”

  “I’ve got to keep my own people safe, Arcos. I’m sorry.”

  There’s a loud explosion just up the road, and I see Keepers run for cover, white hands over their heads. I motion to my friends, and begin to jog down the boulevard toward the gates and the explosion.

  “Mia,” Lisa calls.

  “We’re not staying, Lisa,” I say, my voice sharp.

  She catches up to me. “I was not trying to stop you. Do not be impatient and a fool, running to the fires. I will guide you safely through the worst of this.”

  Down the road, there are thousands of Keepers charging into battle. I wish I’d told them that standing in tight clumps is the worst thing to do against machine guns.

  “Yeah, okay, thanks Lisa. Lead the way.”

  “Come,” she says, and turns sharply down a street and then into a tunnel. We follow, four Topsiders sprinting into the darkness.

  We run underground into the tunnels and around for what seems like forever. I reach out with my senses and warn Lisa when I feel large groups nearby. Above us, tangled masses of Keepers push forward. Occasionally I sense a different feeling, a Topsider, but more than once the soldier’s pulse is weak and dying. It sounds like we’re winning. It feels like we’re winning.

  When we come out of the tunnel, there is smoke and wreckage everywhere. A building must have toppled onto the street. Lisa only hesitates briefly, then turns our way. “It is still the quickest path,” she says, indicating the jumble of rock.

  “Go,” I say, nodding forward. Soon we’re climbing over and through rubble, the dust almost suffocating. The fighting’s closer, gunshots so near that we see muzzles flash.

  Jo takes a step ahead of me and falls straight through a pile of debris, a scream escaping her lips.

  My instincts are shiny and new, and I manage to catch her arm before she’s under.

  I feel it snap or tear or dislocate. She groans in pain, and I fall on my ass, trying to find purchase to keep myself from falling in after her.

  Brayden grabs me around the waist, and Rob manages to get ahold of Jo’s hand. We pull her up, slowly. She’s covered with a fine dirt, her clothing brown and her hair sifting dust. She gratefully takes a sip from Lisa’s water pouch and rotates her shoulder gently into place.

  “I’m glad the water heals and all, but I wish I didn’t have to use it,” she says, in decent humor considering the circumstances. “You think everything’s okay Topside?” she asks, suddenly serious.

  For a moment, I try to figure out what exactly she’s looking for. Does she want me to reassure her about her mom? About Fenton? Does she feel guilty for having stayed so long? I remember the argument we had when we first arrived, how she wanted to go back home. And I want to reassure her that the source that’s in me now was worth it, is going to fix everything. But our dads are dead, the world we knew is gone. I can’t just lie. I tug her hand, to let her know I’m here, to remind both of us that after all this, she has me and I have her. I need her. I have no one else.

  I smile, and open my mouth to tell her that, but then I see the red dot appear on her chest.

  “Jo,” I whisper, quick and harsh.

  “What?” She’s oblivious.

  “When I count to three, I want you to fall to the ground. Everyone. And then go back the way we came as fast as you can.”

  The red dot is connected to a red beam that swirls in the dust. Jo sees it now twitching on her chest and freezes. The others tense too, like deer in headlights.

  “One,” I say, reaching out with my mind to find the soldier with the gun, but I don’t have a good handle on how to focus. Behind me I feel hearts beating, but I can’t tell how many or who or where.

  “Don’t move,” someone shouts over my shoulder.

  “Two,” I say, giving up trying to learn more about the soldiers. I can’t try something I don’t fully understand. Jo’s staring at me, the dot still there. She’s breathing hard but otherwise is calm, ready to dive, standing at the edge, trusting me.

  “Three,” shouts someone who’s not me and then a bang, much closer and louder than I could ever have expected. Jo’s knocked backward, right off her feet.

  I don’t even get a chance to scream, because a gun butt smashes into the back of my head and I go down to my knees, the pain making me gag for an intense moment. And then it fades. By the time Sutton and his four men have stepped into view on the mound of rubble, I’m feeling better. I scramble toward Jo’s body, but a pair of hands grab my feet. I scream in desperation, my voice scratching against my throat. Jo’s heart flutters and weakens. I’m turned over an
d find myself staring into the barrel of a machine gun, and when I make to get up the soldier presses the barrel into my forehead.

  Soldiers move past me, covered in black gear, their guns raised. They glide like slow shadows among the ruins around us. Rob and even Lisa have their hands raised, but not Brayden.

  “You didn’t,” I say to him, unable to even articulate the potential. I reach out for his mind but only see flashes of light, nothing coherent. I want to scream again. I just don’t understand how to use the powers the source gave me. I can cast out a part of me, but I don’t know what to do with what I find.

  Sutton’s boots crunch beside me.

  “Brayden did,” Sutton says, “sort of. Unknowingly, I’m sure.”

  Brayden charges at Sutton, but the Westbrook alum backhands him and sends Brayden to the ground. We’re pathetic and weak and broken. Jo’s not moving at all. Lisa’s inching closer to her, and I feel a flair of hope. She has the water in her pouch. She can help! I reach out to make sure Jo’s still got a pulse, and she does, but she doesn’t have much time.

  “He’s lying, Mia.”

  I can barely hear him, I’m so focused on Jo. Brayden either betrayed us again or not, my best friend is dying.

  “Brayden didn’t tell us,” Sutton says, assuring me. “The chip we planted in him did.” He prods Brayden’s arm. “What, that shot we gave you at Furbish? You think that was for the flu?”

  “I have a chip in me?”

  “Stopped working, you know, when you came down here. But as soon as we arrived here, the signal came through real clear.”

  Sutton approaches Lisa, taking her chin in his hand. So much for her sneaking over to Jo. She spits in his face. I want to adopt her.

  “Interesting point this brings up,” he says, wiping his face with his hand. “We’re all made of water, but she’s made of healing water. So why can’t her spit heal me?”

  “Why are you here?” Lisa asks, her voice hard. “Why are you doing this?”

  Sutton manages to look semi-thoughtful. “A combination of Greg and my own dumb luck. Researching the water, creating the virus, it all leads here.” Sutton’s watching me now. Lisa doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but I do.

  “Let me help her,” I say, pointing to Jo.

  “I’ll let you help her when you give me the source. That stuff Greg always talked about’s true, yeah?”

  “I don’t have it, it’s on the far side of the city,” I say, gritting my teeth at the mention of my dad. “Please, Sutton. Let me give her some water.”

  He shakes his head, his narrow face somehow believably regretful. “Don’t believe you, little Kish. I know you came for it.”

  “We can’t help you. You have to believe us,” Rob says, his voice breaking. “If you studied the map, you’d know where the source is. Go get it yourself.”

  “I studied the map,” Sutton confirms. My mental finger’s on Jo’s pulse, but she’s almost gone and I’m becoming desperate. “I took copies of the high-def imaging. I broke it down like I broke down the water to create the virus. A map within a map, a world within the well. But even still, I wasn’t sure. Not until you guys vanished into thin air.

  “Oh, it took some guts to try it out. Had to really convince one of my men.” He smiles, like he’s recalling a happy time. “But once they made it here and back, we tied a line through to guide us, sent weapons down in the nifty plastic barrels your dad left for us and voila, I’m Christopher Columbus.” His lips twitch, as if remembering something annoying. “The natives down here were still a bit of trouble.”

  “Leave us alone, Blake,” Brayden says, getting to his feet. His face is covered with grime.

  “Sure,” Sutton says. “Where’s my source water? Where is Greg anyway?”

  He’s asking me, so he sees me flinch. He has the decency to look taken aback.

  “Well, that wasn’t what I was hoping for. You know that, right? He brought it upon himself. Upon you for that matter. He never should have come here.”

  I’m so upset I can’t speak. I get to my feet, the soldier’s gun following my rise and settling on my chest. I look into his eyes, this soldier, this no one, and see that he’s not happy. He’s scared. He keeps glancing at Lisa, like she’s an alien. His finger shivers on the trigger.

  Sutton claps his hands together, scattering dust from his palms. “Okay, fine. None of this went the way we planned. But now I’m here, in this crazy place, and I’m going to get what I came for. Where’s the source?” Around us, the fires still burn, the smoke making a thick fog. I can hear fighting. I can feel the heartbeats of everyone here, pumping fast and desperate.

  We all look at one another. He catches that look.

  “I knew you had it.” he says to me, triumphant. “You are your father’s daughter, huh? You actually went and got it yourself.” He doesn’t realize that the source isn’t a physical thing, at least not like he’s imagining it. I made the same mistake when I first arrived. But you don’t just go and drink it. Sutton almost twitching he wants it so badly. I notice, for the first time, that he’s got stubble, the makings of a beard. It looks like dirt all over his face and it reminds me that, like us, he’s been going nonstop these past days. He’ll never stop. All these years, all this obsession. He’s like my dad. I can’t deal with him anymore. I need to help Jo. “Fine,” I say, “I have it. And if you want it, you have to let me help her.”

  “Doesn’t work—”

  “Fuck you, Sutton. I’m helping her.”

  He doesn’t stop me, and I hurry to her side and roll her over. Her head lolls, and her chest is red and sticky. Her eyes are open, glazed. Her lips as full as ever. I touch her neck and can’t feel a thing, I reach and can’t feel a thing.

  I motion to Lisa, who throws me her water pouch, and I drip the remains on Jo’s wound and between her lips.

  “So pale face here’s got the source,” Sutton’s says, sure of himself. “And you’re using it to bring back your friend.”

  “That’s right, Sutton,” I say over my shoulder, something I vaguely realize I shouldn’t do. Of course he believes me. Why wouldn’t he? “This is your precious stupid source.”

  “Wonderful. I knew you’d find it.” He pulls a walkie-talkie off his belt and says into it, “Take it down. Fall back to the gate.”

  Yes sir, crackles the reply.

  And almost immediately we see flashes around us, hear loud bursts of rocket fire. I tear my eyes from Jo to watch the bright swirls of light lob toward the wall above the tunnel entrance and then I lose them in the smoke.

  “What just happened?” I ask, frantic.

  Sutton holds up a finger, tips his ear to the sky, and then we hear it, explosion after explosion as his rockets smash into the wall, into the mountain. Into the source.

  “You were right,” he says. “I do know where the source is.” He turns to his men. “Take them.”

  They come at us, but we’re kids and they’re soldiers.

  Jo’s not moving. She’s broken and empty.

  My body burns in anger and helplessness and I duck from the nearest soldier’s black-gloved hand and leap, surprising him, knocking him to the ground. Around me I sense movement as my friends try to do the same. Lisa, especially, is a blur, her white skin and blue hair so easy to identify in my periphery.

  The soldier outweighs me by a hundred pounds. He’s trained and armed and wears protective padding on his chest and legs. But I realize something, something I learned from Randt’s relentless beating back at the source: pain is temporary.

  I scratch his face and feel his skin under my nails. He shouts. I go for every exposed surface. I’m a fury of untrained violence, and even still I realize that in a half second he’s going to take control of the situation. Pain is temporary, I keep repeating in my mind. Use it. So I give him my left arm, just hand it over to him, which he t
akes and twists in some sort of jujitsu move so painful my eyes might pop out. I feel my tendons straining, but he has a knife in his belt and I need it so I accept the pain, swallow it, and reach for the blade. He twists harder, wrenching my shoulder from its socket. Pain is temporary. I scream, my throat scraping, pain now just a means to an end, and I manage to snag the knife. It’s black-handled and serrated, and when I plunge it into his inner thigh, where I’ve been told an artery runs, it gives like a tomato: a little resistance then nothing.

  His grip goes loose and I pull the knife. My arm pops into place on its own and begins to heal. The pain fades, temporary.

  Lisa’s done something devastating to her soldier and is helping Rob, who has no skills at all for this kind of thing and lies curled in a ball; she kicks out the back of his soldier’s knee and I don’t bother looking anymore. But Brayden needs me. I jump over a black-geared body and slide the knife into the soldier’s back, trying to ignore how easily the blade slips through the padding and into his skin. He slumps onto Brayden, covering him like a fat sleeping child.

  I don’t have time to help him up. I need to get to Jo.

  I whirl around, looking for her body in the dust, when suddenly I feel an ache in my bones, deep and unexplained. It freezes me, like what I might imagine a heart attack would feel like—a dark and helpless pain, and there he is, Sutton, a handgun trained on my chest.

  “Where’s the source water, Kish?” Sutton asks. His eyes dart around, seeing his men lost. “Give it over.”

  I don’t reply, that unexpected pain still ramping through me.

  “What does it do?” he goes on. “Did these albinos tell you?”

  Sutton’s ruined my life. It’s that simple. He holds the cards now too, the gun steady in his hand. I know I heal quickly but I also know I’m not immortal. I doubt I could withstand a bullet to the head. But I’m not going to let him control anything anymore. Pain is temporary. I dodge left and hear/feel him fire, the bullet punching into my arm and spinning me. I dive for his legs and he shoots again, missing me, and we tumble to the ground together. I hear the satisfying thud of his gun falling to the rubble.