by Peter Telep
“Wait, she has a sirk? Looks like this?” I draw a picture in the sand of the Q with the slash mark.
“Yeah.”
I bolt to my feet. “Thanks.”
“Hey, where you going?”
“I’ll talk to you later!”
I bound across the clearing, duck under the overhanging branches, and pause near a tree.
Meeka lied to us? That sirk wasn’t left behind? It was hers the entire time? And the whole story with Flare? Is that another lie? What’s going on here?
What now? Should I go Tommy? But he’s with Val now, and I don’t want to ruin that for him.
But this is important, so important that maybe it’s about time I man up and take care of it myself—
And take it right back to the source.
I cross over to Meeka and lean over, about to shake her shoulder.
Her hand flies up and latches around my wrist. “Don’t,” she warns me.
“Get up. We need to talk.”
“What’s going on?” Julie asks from across the awning.
“Did you lie about everything?” I ask Meeka.
“What?”
“You heard me! Did you lie about Flare? You lie about that sirk you found?”
“No. We have a deal.”
My tone hardens. “But you didn’t find that sirk, did you. You had it all along.”
She narrows her gaze. “Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Doesn’t matter. So... what’s the plan? Take us to the city? Get us killed? Finally get your revenge? There’s no temple in Verbena. No general. It’s all lies. So why don’t you just shoot us and get it over with?”
Meeka laughs in disbelief. “You’re crazy now. We can’t get the mirage without you.”
“You don’t need us. Keane’s already connected with the grren. If I’m you, I work out a deal with him. He’s more loyal anyway.”
“Doc, please, just shut up. I’ll prove I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t believe you anymore.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Kids in my classes wanted to be teachers, doctors, lawyers, astronauts, soldiers, NASCAR drivers, professional surfers, stunt people in Hollywood, and Presidents of the United States.
Me? I’d always answer the same:
I want to be this cool scientist guy, part nerd, part badass action hero who races around on a nuclear-powered Harley with no helmet and plays lead guitar in a rock band on the weekends.
I’ll be shredded with sleeves of tattoos and a Jedi ponytail and a billion Facebook followers. The media will describe me as “dangerously smart and absurdly handsome.”
I’ll stroll in to work everyday in a bathing suit and flip-flops because I’m this eccentric genius whose desk is on a beach in Malibu and who saves the world by preventing Skynet from ever being developed.
Yeah, just Google “Skynet” to fully appreciate the service I’ve done for humankind...
However, if you ask me right now, “Doc, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
I’d answer in a word—
Normal.
I don’t want a wreath or a persona.
I just want to go home and be normal.
That life was so easy compared to this.
And these kids... what they’ve gone through... it’s just beyond terrible. I can’t take it.
I guess I’m having another breakdown.
Yeah, that’s why I’m on top of Meeka—
And trying to strangle her.
I guess this is just another day in our love/hate I-want-to-choke-you-to-death relationship, right?
Steffanie and Julie grab my arms and pull me off as I’m screaming like a psychopath in Meeka’s face: “No more games! Do you hear me?”
So everyone else wakes up.
A crowd gathers around us. They’re all staring at Meeka.
At me.
Showdown.
Tommy and Val jog over. “Doc? SITREP!” he orders.
I just look at him. Isn’t the situation report obvious?
Meeka pushes to her feet, rubbing her neck. “It’s all right. Just a little disagreement. Move on, people. There’s nothing to see here.” She whirls to face me and tosses something.
I catch it.
“That’s the sirk I found,” she says.
I turn it over in my hand. Looks familiar.
She pulls another from her pocket. The coin’s bluish-gray color is mostly faded, like it’s tarnished, much older... “This one was my friend’s. Now it’s mine. Are we clear on this?”
I glance down and curse.
“Don’t even apologize.” She pushes through the crowd and marches away.
Julie looks at me. “What just happened?”
Keane grabs my shoulder. “Aren’t you fighting with the wrong girl?”
I jerk out of his grip, and then glance around, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
I swear again and hustle off after Meeka.
* * *
She hikes past Mama Grren’s cave, all the way up to a cliff overlooking the valley.
Wow, it’s about a hundred-foot drop to the rocks below. She seems unfazed by the danger and just plops down on the ledge, allowing her legs to dangle over the side.
This is crazy. What am I saying? This is Meeka.
My pulse races and my mouth goes dry as I ease toward her and take a seat. “Hey—”
“Just go.”
I glance at her. She sees me but doesn’t look over. So we just sit there, swinging our legs over the abyss.
Eventually, out of nowhere, she’s ready to talk: “Maybe six times...”
“Six?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“All right, six. So what’re we talking about?”
She snorts. “The number of times I’ve overdosed.”
“On purpose?
“Yeah.”
“That’s weird.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, because you’re so strong.”
She covers her face and starts crying. “Yeah, I’m strong.”
“Yes, you are. Your name is Meeka Larkspur... hey, I don’t even know your last name. I don’t know Steffanie’s, either.”
She looks at me. “Steffanie Centennial Jistt.”
“And yours?”
“Mine doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why?”
She just shrugs and looks at me.
“Well, girl with no last name, you’re the strongest person I know.”
“Sometimes, I guess.”
“You are. And don’t worry. I’ll help you. I’ll get you out of here. We’ll save anyone who wants to come.”
She looks at me through watery eyes. “Really?”
“It won’t be easy, but we’ll make it happen.”
She faces me. “I have your word?”
“You do.”
* * *
“Tommy, please, we need to help them.”
He frowns at me, grappling with the idea.
“I know we can’t save the whole world here, but how ‘bout just these kids... just them, okay?”
He sighs and returns to his bike, where he’s disassembled the chain compartment and is cleaning the insides. “Son, if we make it back, we need to help your dad. We can’t babysit a bunch of teenagers who might go hog wild.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
“Yeah, it’s all about operational security.”
“Man, I knew you’d say that, too.”
“That’s right. Because there’s a lot to consider. They get to Earth, there could be medical problems. Diseases they carry. The gravity’s lighter there. They might be jumping around like superheroes and need time to adjust, just like we did. I don’t know. You need to let me work on this.”
“Val can come...”
“She won’t.”
“Why not?”
“She’s spent her whole life helping th
ese survivors. She won’t leave them. And I admire her for that.”
“Me, too.”
“She told me some stories. And now I wish I could’ve seen this place before... I bet it was real beautiful.”
I close my eyes and picture my neighborhood. “It was.”
* * *
I take a nap in Mama Grren’s cave.
Do I dream of the island? No...
It’s a nightmare. I’ve told Julie everything. She’s running away, and I chase her through the forest. She crashes into a tree and wakes up the mawzz.
Arrows burst into the air.
Grren jump from the trees, hissing at us.
Hoverjets packed with nomads find us with searchlights, and the door gunners open fire. Trees splinter. Grren howl. Arrows shriek.
We race up the mountain—
And nearly run off the cliff where I spoke to Meeka.
There’s a bed floating in midair. My mother and Solomon are in the middle of... eww.
They look at us and laugh.
I scream at the top of my lungs, and that sound carries me into orbit, floating high above the continents. The oceans. The clouds.
I’m connected to millions of Florans.
They whisper something—
But I can’t hear it.
Bam, I shudder awake, soaked in sweat. I sit up.
Julie’s been watching me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I drag a hand across my face. “Why’re you here?”
“I got bored, so I made you something.”
“You did?”
She’s taken black beans, corn, and potatoes and arranged them in obsessively neat triangles on a piece of cardboard. Between each triangle lies a sprinkling of green peas.
The plate is picture perfect, ready for Instagram.
“Wow, you make even canned food look good.”
“Thanks. So… are you okay? After the whole raging on Meeka thing—”
“I just really thought she was lying.”
She tightens her gaze. “Do we need to talk?”
I brace myself. “Do we?”
“I don’t know. Keane and Meeka think so.”
I search for my water can. Someone must’ve taken it.
“Doc, I asked you a question.”
“I know, I’m just... if we don’t find that engine, then we’re stuck here. And our parents will probably die.”
“Don’t say that.”
“And this... this will be our lives until we get sick.”
“Should I start calling you Keane?” She smiles.
I don’t. “It’s the truth.”
“Now you really sound like Mr. Depressing.”
“Want to make me feel better? Show me your persona.”
“Really? Okay…”
Julie’s persona flashes effortlessly from her chest. It’s a mirror image of her body. No flaws or glitches. “Feel better now?”
“Can you change it? I mean change it back to when you looked, you know, different?”
“You mean fat and ugly?” she accuses me.
I show her my palms. “I never said that.”
“Look at me now.”
She’s the pimple-faced girl with glasses and clutching rolls of fat.
Then she’s the prom queen in that awesome dress.
Then she’s Julie.
“Wow. So which one do you feel like now?”
She’s puzzled. “I don’t know. All of them. Why are you asking me to do this?”
“Because I have a surprise.” I jump into my persona. Up until this point it’s remained the same: the musclehead version of a geek. But I’ve gained more control. My persona looks exactly like me.
And now I’m trembling.
Really trembling.
Because this is it.
I’m going to tell her the truth.
Finally…
“Oh, that’s so much better,” she says. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how disgusting that was.”
“Are you serious? I had some big guns.”
“I hate guys like that.”
“Really? Okay, so from now on it’s just me. Because I don’t want anything to interfere—”
“Interfere with what?”
“With what I’m about to show you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Boots pound. The cave grows darker. Shadows drift across the wall, and then—
Tommy and Keane run breathlessly inside.
“Y’all get ready!” Tommy cries. “We’re leaving now!”
Julie and I pull back our personas.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Sandstorm,” Keane answers. “Headed our way.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Yep, coming from the south. No one’s ever seen one this big—and it’s getting bigger. So if we don’t go now, we’ll never outrun it. We’ll be stuck in these caves for days… who knows how long. And then we might never find your engine.”
I grin sarcastically. “The Gods are unhappy.”
“Uh, no, they don’t exist.”
Julie rushes across the cave to grab her pack.
Keane raises his brows. “You tell her?”
“I wish.”
“Couldn’t find the right time?” he adds.
I consider my come back, but now’s not the... right time. Argh! So I just grab my pack.
As we step outside, I’m nearly blown over. I feel like a TV news reporter standing in the middle of a hurricane. Leaves swirl, and the trees creak like the doors of haunted houses.
The entire caravan has mounted their bikes. Goggles. Head wraps. Rifles. Rock-n-roll.
Brave and Mama Grren pace near Tommy.
There’s no sunset—just a light brown sky growing darker by the second.
Meeka and Steffanie glide up on their bikes.
Meeka’s has an aggressive front fork like a chopper, with fat hoses like those you see on a pool filter serving as fenders. Small animal bones and other trinkets are strapped to the handlebars.
Steffanie’s ride is kind of weird. While her bike does have an oversized back wheel, it’s also equipped with purple-and-white wires hanging like streamers from her bars. There’s even a stuffed animal tied behind her seat. Ha, it’s a grren.
Steffanie, the warm, cuddly type? Maybe she is beneath that dusty skin and hard eyes.
All the rumms carry bulging saddlebags mounted over their rear wheels. I don’t have to ask what’s in them: all the snowter branches they can carry.
As the girls tighten their scarves and adjust their goggles, they transform from teenagers into battle-worn rumms with ponytails dancing like snakes in the wind.
Tommy waves his hand and gains the group’s attention to issue some final reminders. He’s organized the group into teams. We’re using hand-drawn maps to locate four rally points along the route, in case we get separated.
The caravan’s vehicles will remain in the forest, and Julie has coordinated with Brave and Mama Grren so we can use their tunnels to get near the city. We considered riding the grren personas instead of taking bikes, but our alliance with them is delicate and we’re packing a lot of gear. We decided not to push our luck and endanger them any further.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. I don’t care whether you believe in it or not, but where I come from, we like to say a few words of prayer. I’ll keep it short. Heavenly Father, we ask that you protect us on our journey into the city. Amen. Now let’s roll!”
At that moment, the rumms do something both familiar and remarkable:
They draw circles around their hearts and cross them, just like Julie and I used to do as kids. We look at each other, like, wow. Deep down we always knew we were Florans. I’ll have to ask Meeka what the circle and cross mean. Maybe it’s a religious blessing or something else...
Now, with the rumms hooting and hollering as though we’re heading into battle, we glide away to form a single pace line. The grren lead the charge. Stephanie, Meeka, Kean
e, and Julie are just ahead of me, and Tommy and Val pull up the rear.
One kid near the front rides a tandem, your classic bicycle built for two. His persona clutches the handlebars while his body helps to pedal in the back. I realize it’s the blind kid and that he can see when he jumps into his persona. It’s hard not to be moved by this and understand his need for mirage.
As we break from the shelter of trees, the wind tugs at our wheels, and it feels like our tires are going flat.
At the same time, more twigs and leaves fly into our faces, and a deep bass note thrums in our ears, like some marching band nerd playing a gigantic tuba.
I cough as the forest’s earthy, almost sugary smell sneaks in through my scarf. It’s even more powerful now, carried hard and fast by the approaching storm.
Within minutes, we find a decent trail, although it’s still pretty tight and technical. The lead group shouts and points out obstacles in our path.
The wind hammers on massive limbs. Some crack off and hit the dirt with a rumbling crash.
“Tree up!” the rumms cry. “Tree up!”
We’re forced through narrow gaps between sharp-edged branches that scrape across our hips.
One rumm picks the wrong line. His rear tire skids, and he crashes onto his side. He’s up in seconds, though, pedaling hard to resume his place.
As we continue on, deeper shadows pass over the valley. I glance off to the south for a better look—
And curse behind my scarf.
In the distance, beyond the treetops, lies the leading edge the storm, the infinite walls of sand spanned by veins of dark blue lightning and weird coils like pieces of springs spinning up through the crowns. I shout to Keane about them.
He says the coils are buildings, houses, cars, trees, and even people all yanked from the ground and whipped up into the twisters.
Brave and Mama Grren sense the danger, too. They pick up the pace as we ascend into the hills.
* * *
After twenty minutes of relentless pedaling that leaves me spent, we finally reach the tunnel entrance.
The rumms shout, “Slowing!”
Bike lights wink on.
The shimmering grren guide us inside.
With the battering wind and obstacles gone, I’m hoping we make better time.
However, what Keane calls “the stormquake” is stronger and louder down here. While the tunnel is flat, it feels like were riding over waves of sand because the ground vibrates and rumbles.