Revelations (The Elysium Chronicles)

by Souders, J. A.

  As the sun burns high in the sky, I see what looks like a lake ahead. It’s blurry, but shimmering in the sunlight. I grab Asher’s arm. “Asher! Water!” My throat is hoarse and hurts to talk.

  He doesn’t even look, he only shakes his head. “No, it’s a mirage.”

  “No, it’s water. I’m sure of it.” I try pulling him, to move him faster, but he only keeps moving at his steady pace.

  “No use chasing after it,” he says, huffing a little himself with each step. “It’s not real. You’ll only make yourself more thirsty.”

  I ignore him, though. It’s water; I know it. It’s not just some delusion I’ve concocted in my head. Not this time. So I let go of him and race ahead. But no matter how fast I move, how hard I push my muscles, and how much my lungs beg me to stop, the water stays exactly the same distance away. I can’t get to it.

  Unable to keep my pace up, I slow to the point that Asher catches up to me. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s happened to almost every one.”

  I nod, feeling stupid on top of being hot, sweaty, thirsty, sore, and tired. My chest hurts again and my breath is racing as fast as my heart, reminding me that I need to stop being stupid and start listening to what Asher says.

  To keep myself occupied and my mind off the never-ending and sweltering sand, I play with the sand. Of course I’m not stopping to build sand castles or anything, but with each step the sand makes this strange dry, squishy sound and I like it. So each time I step, I wiggle my foot around so it makes the sound again and again.

  Asher startles me when he chuckles. I gape at him. “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  But I’m not letting him get away with that, especially since it’s the first Asher thing he’s done in hours. I slide in front of him, turning to walk backward.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  His dimple flashes when he grins at me, and a little bubble of relief floats into me, but I pretend to frown. “Me? What’s so funny about me?”

  “You’re like a little kid bouncing around and playing in the sand. It’s funny.”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  “Ah! But you are little.” He taps my nose. “And you should probably turn around before you trip over something—”

  Of course at that moment, my foot finds the only hole in the entire desert and my ankle catches, which causes me to fall hard onto my butt. Asher, unable to stop in time, follows suit and lands on top of me, pinning me to the ground underneath him.

  A sharp pain shoots up my leg, but it ends as soon as my foot is free of the hole. Laughing, I try to sit up, but Asher’s too busy trying to see if he hurt me and we end up bumping heads.

  “I’m so sorry,” we say together, and then just sit there laughing and rubbing our heads.

  It’s probably more the hysterical kind of laughter than anything else, but it feels good to laugh, even if it’s only for a minute.

  He smiles down at me and I smile back up at him, but something in his expression changes and he stares down at me so intensely, I stop laughing. I shouldn’t be here, like this, I think and quickly slide out from underneath him. I clear my throat. “We should probably keep going.” I turn away so I’m not looking at him.

  After a minute he stands, but he doesn’t hold out a hand for me this time and I’m sure we’re back to silent Asher. With a sigh, I push myself to my feet on my own.

  We keep going like that until the sun starts to lower in the west, leaving only a reddish pink sky and some violet clouds. The temperature starts dropping considerably the further the sun lowers.

  “Any idea where we are?” I ask him when I realize we might be stuck in the desert with those dog beasts and no way to beat them this time. No way to outrun them. And no supplies or a way to keep warm through the night.

  “No,” he says, “but I don’t think we have long. Those trees over there look familiar to me. See that tree in the front? The one that looks all twisty, like one tree is wrapped around the other? My father and I would stop there to rest every time we came this way.”

  I glance to where he’s gesturing, and shiver. It’s almost like the woods we stayed in the first night. “We’re not going to go through there, are we?”

  “Afraid so. No other way.” He pats my arm as if to soothe my fears. Although he doesn’t look very happy about our only option either.

  I swallow. “But what about those birds?”

  “They sleep at night, so if we go as far as we can tonight—hopefully getting on the other side of those trees—then wake up early, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looks down and at me, his eyes meeting mine. “No. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

  I can’t help but compare Asher to Gavin in this moment. If Gavin were here, he would reassure me, even if he had to bend the truth. Asher always tells me how it is—always. Asher trusts me to be able to handle the truth. Even if it’s bad. I like that. A lot. I’d much rather have the truth than have something sugar-coated to spare my “delicate” feelings.

  To pay him back for his trust in me, I shrug and step forward. “Are you coming? Or are you going to stand there all day?”

  We get to the tree line just as the sun is setting. I listen for the sound of wings, but the only sounds are crickets and the wind teasing the scrub oak leaves. As we walk, I wonder how the trees are getting water. Surely there has to be something nearby to keep them all hydrated and alive. I try not to spend too much time thinking about it. It’s a waste of energy that should and could be spent on getting out of the small forest alive and well. But every time I lick my chapped lips, I’m reminded of exactly how dehydrated I am.

  It’s hard to tell when the sun actually sets, because the woods are so dark. The chill of the night is obvious though. My wheeze, which was easier to ignore in the heat of the day, sounds too loud in the tree-covered night. I worry I might cover up the sound of approaching animals, or worse yet, attract them to us.

  “Maybe we should stop for the night.”

  “We have to keep going. Just a little bit longer, until we get to the tree line. If there are vulture-hawks, I want to be able to run into the light quickly.”

  “What about those beast-dogs?”

  “The coyotes?” He continues before I can answer. “They are nocturnal, so let’s try to stay quiet and move as quickly as possible.”

  I swallow at the lump in my throat, but do as he recommends. Hours later, when I’m continuing on nothing more than willpower alone, I hear Asher say, “Just a little further,” for what feels like the thousandth time, but this time there’s excitement in his voice.

  I look up and gasp when I see the orange-black horizon of the rising sun just past the trees.

  “Tree line,” I whisper and dart forward to it, ignoring the aches and pains that cover my body.

  Asher is close behind and we both make the same awed noise when we see the towers of buildings reaching up into the sky in the distance. It’s probably less than five kilometers away.

  “Come on!” I giggle, and tug on his arm. “We’re almost there.”

  He allows himself to be pulled across the small plains before we get to a large body of water. A few hundred meters in is an island, where Rushlake city waits. There’s a red footbridge that leads across the water to the island city with its huge buildings that sparkle and scrape the sky.

  I trudge onto the bridge, nearly weeping at the thought of being so close. To sitting. To water. There’s a guard station on the other side that I keep my eyes fixed on. I only have to make it that much farther, I am certain of it. But even these last fifty meters can’t be easy. In my hurry, my foot catches on one of the loose planks and I crash onto the ground. I’m so exhausted I find it almost impossible to push myself up, but I finally manage, my legs shaking with the effort. The muscles in my jaw ache with thirst. I’m dizzy with it. There is water on the other side of this blasted b
ridge and I will crawl to it if I have to.

  I take a determined step, but my energy is finished. My legs buckle, and I have a moment of thinking I might just have to crawl, when Asher swoops me up in his arms. He carries me across the rickety bridge, chest heaving with the effort. My stomach summersaults when the bridge sways wildly under his feet, but he keeps me held fast.

  At the far end, two bored guards wait. Neither of them offers to help Asher, even when we’re well within shouting distance. In fact, neither of them moves until we’re at their station, and then it’s only to demand to see our visa. Asher sets me on my feet to get out the letter from his father. The guard takes his time, inspecting each word as if he has just learned to read. I take the chance to study our surroundings. The guards’ outpost is just a tiny wood building, not much bigger than the guard and his partner. It’s set off to the side of a concrete platform, which has steps leading down to one of those large asphalt paths that were in the abandoned city.

  When the guard is convinced our papers are in order, he lets us pass, then puts out a call to Asher’s grandmother to come pick us up at the guard’s station; she is going to keep us while we look for a doctor that can help me.

  Asher tries leading me away toward the steps, but I pause. “What about Gavin?”

  “What about him?”

  “How will he get in? He doesn’t have a visa. The guards won’t let him in.”

  His eyes fill with something that looks like regret—maybe sadness—but then he sighs. “Wait here.”

  He turns back around and talks to the guard. His words slur in his exhaustion. “There was another member of our party. His name is Gavin Hunter.” He pulls out the visa again, then points to Gavin’s name. “He was separated from us in the Outlands. Will you make sure he’s able to get into the city and call my grandmother when he arrives?”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard says. “I’ll just place his name in the book. But, between you and me,” he glances at his partner, “you might want to come up and check yourself for the next few days. Not everyone checks the book.…”

  At first I’m not sure what he’s getting at by letting his words trail off like that, but then the word bribe enters my mind. Without our supplies, we have nothing to offer the guards. Nothing to ensure Gavin’s name will even make it into the book, much less earn him passage into the city.

  “I understand. Thank you,” Asher says, stifling a yawn. The guard appears disappointed, but says nothing.

  I stare at Asher, desperate for a solution. I know he thinks Gavin didn’t make it, but in my heart I know he’s still out there. If I had any money, I would give it all to ensure his safety. I hate being dependent on Asher. I hate that we don’t have anything to offer these lazy men. My eyes sting, but I’m too dehydrated to cry.

  “I’ll have someone from my grandmother’s house bring them what they want,” he whispers to me.

  “Thank you.” I press a hand to my trembling lips, grateful for even this small promise.

  “Anything for such a pretty lady.” Even though his voice lacks the normal smoothness that he instills into each syllable, his eyes sparkle in amusement when he says it.

  I laugh, grateful for the relief, and roll my blurry eyes.

  We sit at the bottom of the steps on the other side of the guard station. My back aches from the hard stone beneath my sore hips, but the relief from sitting and making it to the city is sweet and, just when I find myself starting to fall asleep, a huge hunk of metal squeals to a halt in front of us. I pull my feet away from it, gasping and pressing a hand to my racing heart.

  I glance up at Asher. “That’s a car,” I say, astonished.

  He chuckles. “Yes, it’s a car. It’s my grandmother’s car, in fact.”

  “It works?” I ask, dumbfounded and continuing to stare at the big machine. It looks the same as those other ones—the ones in the abandoned city—but it’s shiny and actually moving. It’s kind of pretty, really.

  This time he snorts and his laugh is deep, seeming to come from deep in his chest. “I should hope so, or Grandmother wouldn’t be a very happy woman.”

  As if on cue a person rushes around to the back of the car from the opposite side and pulls a lever on the side of it. A door opens and a woman with steel gray hair steps through the opening. She smiles when she sees Asher, then turns the smile to me, but it wobbles and her eyes widen when I smile back.

  She shoots a glance at Asher. “This is her?” she asks in this deep, smoky voice.

  He nods and slips an arm around my waist, pulling me toward him in a possessive manner I’m not entirely sure I like. “Yes. This is Evie.”

  She grabs my chin gently in her surprisingly smooth hands. She stares at me and I firm my lips into a line. I don’t like how closely she’s studying me, as if she recognizes me somehow. Then she startles me when her lip quivers and her eyes become shiny.

  “Eli,” she whispers.

  I peek at Asher, who knit his brow together.

  “Grandma?” he asks.

  She steps away with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, dear. For a minute, you reminded me of someone I used to know.” She hugs Asher and pulls me into the same hug. “Come on. You’ll both be more comfortable after a hot shower and some clean clothes.”

  Wary, but grateful, I step forward into the car and slither onto the car’s backseat next to Asher’s grandma and wait for Asher to slide in after me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Adolescent female of European descent. Extreme pallor, signs of dehydration, multiple wounds in various stages of healing. Patient cooperative, but semi-conscious, unable to provide any details of how injuries were sustained.

  —EXCERPT FROM TREATMENT NOTE OF RUSHLAKE CITY PHYSICIAN

  Evie

  Asher’s grandmother hands both Asher and me bottles of water, but warns us to drink slowly. However, both of us are too thirsty to listen and we gulp down three of the bottles before the car even starts moving. My stomach clenches at first, but I will myself to keep the liquid down. I’m not going to waste a drop.

  I’m just finishing my third bottle when we zoom away from the curb. Even though I haven’t been in the car that long the heat inside makes me sleepy. It seems all the walking—stumbling—with little to no sleep has taken its toll. Even still, I can’t help but gawk at the city as we pass each building. I’ve never seen anything like it. With the sun rising over the horizon, the sky is an orangish color that’s reflected directly on the glass structures, giving Rushlake City a lost-in-a-rainbow look.

  Rainbows are one of my absolute favorite things here. The first time I saw one was right after getting home—Gavin’s house—after being in the hospital. Right before sunset, a double rainbow arced across the sky. It was gorgeous. I had to run to get Gavin and have him tell me what it was. The city reminds me of that moment. Impressive. Simply gorgeous. And it takes my breath away to look at it.

  As we travel, Asher leans over and points out different buildings and landmarks. They’re so completely different from the ones in the village. Even though it’s obvious they’re older than the newest buildings in the village—and much, much taller—everything is practically perfect. There are no cracks. The windows glimmer. They’re actually pretty. And clean. Really, really clean. As if they’ve never seen a spot of dirt in their lives. With all the dirt and sand and mud I’ve seen just in the last few days, I don’t even know how that’s possible.

  The tall buildings are called skyscrapers and they hold a host of different businesses. From things called banks to restaurants and everything in between. Interspersed between the skyscrapers are smaller single-business buildings. On one corner there is a smallish building made completely out of metal and glass. Asher says it’s his favorite restaurant. He says it serves pizza, and the way he describes it makes my mouth water.

  When we get to the city center, he points out a park. It’s still foggy as the sun burns away the cold of night, but I can see the beautiful trees and shrubs. And, in th
e very center, a tall statue of a man.

  I turn to Asher. “Is that a real statue?”

  He nods, but doesn’t smile like I expected. “That’s Michael Rush, founder of Rushlake City.” He gives me a look. “Well, he’s sort of the founder. This was originally a part of a different, larger city, but during the War the main municipality was destroyed. I’m not exactly sure how the whole story goes, but he owned a lot of the land on this peninsula. When the city was destroyed, the connecting piece of land was severed and this part became an island. After the War, Michael Rush rebuilt the city and built walls around the entire island to protect it. He became the city manager and anyone who wanted to have protection from the dangerous Outlands could come here. If they could afford to pay the Tithe.”

  “Tithe?”

  “It’s basically a protection tax. You pay him a certain amount every month, or year, or whatever and he keeps you safe and sound.” He looks past me, out the window. “It works, because this place is almost exactly like cities were before the War. Sure, some things are different as technology and everything gets better, but for those who wanted things to be the same—for the ones who wanted to pretend like it never happened—this is perfect for them. And they’re willing to pay for it. Pay for the illusion of safety. For a false peace. Deceptive freedoms.” He looks back at me, his eyes dark, hard, and cold. “Even if sometimes the cost is more than just money.”

  “Asher…” his grandmother says with a warning in her voice.

  He clears his throat and as he does it, his eyes clear, too. “And … it looks like we’re almost home.”

  I want to know more about the protection tax, but I’m sure I won’t get any answers when his grandmother is around. So I turn my attention back to the passing landscape. On either side of the car are smaller buildings. They remind me a bit of Gavin’s house, but they’re squished closer together and they’re taller, which makes them look thinner. I stare at them, but I don’t pay them much attention. My mind keeps wandering to Gavin and I fight to keep it focused on what is happening now. If I think about him, I’ll worry, and there’s no reason to worry right now. He’s coming. I know he is. He’s just a little behind.