Stormwalker

by Mike Revell

  The afterimage burned whenever I blinked. I could still see it playing out on repeat. Back in the City, officers in the same LRP uniform as Quinn had taken Jack away from his family. But he must have been so young then . . . no more than eight years old. How long had it been since he’d seen them? The fog came back now, and his thoughts cowered behind it, hiding from the pain. The dread he felt still lingered with me.

  I had to push through it. I had to know more . . .

  I plunged back in, trying to grab the memories as they slipped and slid.

  The thrum of airship propellers filled the air.

  We were being marched toward the runway, shepherded toward our future on Icarus 3—dozens of other kids and me, with two adults for every ten children in our group. The grown-ups were the leaders, there to train us, teach us, show us how to safeguard the country’s history.

  I turned around desperately, trying to find Dad in the crowd, trying to see Ayden. Thousands of people had gathered to wave us off, their banners held high to cheer us on.

  There . . . I saw Dad, right up against the barrier they’d put in place to hold everyone back. As soon as I saw him, I knew something was wrong. LRP officers were rushing up to him, barking commands.

  Dad turned to Ayden and said something, but I was too far away to hear . . .

  “Dad!” I called, trying to make myself heard above the noise of the propellers.

  The officers pulled the fence aside, grabbing Dad by the arms. Hardly daring to breathe, I watched as they dragged him away from the crowd.

  “DAD!”

  What were they doing? He was a Marshal. They couldn’t arrest him . . .

  But no, they weren’t arresting him, I could see that now. They were taking him across the runway, heading toward one of the other ships.

  “Keep moving!” barked the LRP officer behind me, forcing me back round.

  “But they’ve got Dad,” I said, desperate to look back again, desperate to see.

  “Anyone caught sheltering duplicates is joining them on their mission,” the LRP officer said.

  “What? No! Dad! Get off me . . . DAD!” I called, trying to fight my way free.

  He did look up then, just before he reached the ramp leading up to the Icarus 1 airship, a hundred yards away. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. He waved at me, but before I could wave back, the moment passed and he was shoved up onto the deck and lost from sight.

  13

  I hadn’t thrown up this time, but seeing Jack’s memories left me feeling hollow and weak. Jack’s dad wasn’t in the City at all—he’d been taken, just like us, taken to Icarus 1, to fly off who knew where. I had no idea if he was alive or dead.

  I didn’t dare dive back into the fog after that. It was too hard. I was still shaking from the effort. All of a sudden I felt bad for even trying. After the first time, I could tell Jack was trying to battle me off. He didn’t want to relive those memories, and I made him.

  I sat there for a few more minutes, until I was sure I wasn’t going to puke. Then, when I felt I could stand again, I worked my way out into the hall.

  It was eerily empty now. The TVs on the wall had been switched off, the only sound the gentle hum of the generator on my left. Between the generator and the girls’ dormitories, there was another door leading to a corridor. Above it, a sign read classrooms.

  On my way there, I passed the noticeboard again. The timetable, I realized, as I got closer. Each day was set out in blocks. Class, Farming, Hunting, and Stormwalking, set out in different orders for different people.

  This must have been what all the kids were rushing around doing. They were being put to work. But why kids? It couldn’t just be that we were duplicates. I headed through the door to the classrooms, my mind racing furiously.

  If this place was supposed to help save the City, I didn’t understand why they’d brought so many children. Surely an adult would make a better Farmer than me?

  More lights along the ceiling lit the way ahead and picked out three doors on either side of the corridor—six classrooms in total. I dried my palms on my trousers, then walked to the door marked 3B. The sign outside read michelle cloud, pre-darkness history and literature.

  I couldn’t stand around forever. I opened the door.

  “Ah, Jack,” said the teacher, and I was relieved to see an adult. “I was wondering where you were.” Her clothes were worn down, like everyone else’s I’d seen here, but they weren’t anywhere near as bad as mine.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, squelching into the room and wishing I’d managed to find some different shoes. “I just had a bit of a . . . um . . . problem.”

  “Not to worry. Take a seat quickly. We’re studying some exciting objects today.”

  I looked round the room. You could tell someone had tried to clean it up. The walls were washed, and the paint was less patchy. The roof was whole and there was no ivy growing through it.

  There were three rows of tables laid out, scrawled over and covered with black burn marks, even worse than the desks in the Science block at school. None of the chairs matched.

  I found a seat at the back, next to Iris. I noticed her checking on me as I turned to the board.

  “Today we’re focusing on history,” Mrs. Cloud said.

  She pressed a button, and a large screen flashed on at the head of the class, just like the one they used back in Cleansing. And for the first time I realized what was odd about it, just like the other one: it didn’t have any power cables.

  “What I’d like you to look at,” Mrs. Cloud said, bringing up an image of some small plastic disks, “is something the pre-Darks called tiddlywinks. I have some examples here, scavenged by Iris—” Mrs. Cloud smiled at Iris; she blushed and looked away—“and very kindly donated for the lesson. I’ll pass them round so you can hold them in a minute.”

  Mrs. Cloud held up one of the disks between forefinger and thumb.

  “Does anyone know what they might have been used for?”

  One of the boys in the front row thrust his hand up. “Er, as decoration?” he said. “You could put it on the wall or something. Like a painting, but small and shimmery.”

  “You could, Alex, yes. But I’m afraid you’re not quite right.”

  “Is it part of a necklace?” said another boy—and I realized it was Dillon, who I’d been out in the storm with.

  “It could be, couldn’t it?” the teacher said, holding the piece of plastic below her neck. “But I’m looking for something else, something a little more academic.”

  Iris held her hand in the air. “I think I’ve seen them in Understanding the Pre-Dark World,” she said. “It’s a sort of counting system, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Cloud said. She turned to face the screen, and pressed a button. An animation played, showing some kids doing math with them.

  “As we understand it, tiddlywinks were quite a popular teaching tool, although evidently not as dominant as some of the other methods we’ve studied—”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t stop a laugh escaping.

  “Is everything okay, Jack?” Mrs. Cloud said.

  I clamped my mouth shut and looked round at the class. Everyone was staring at me. My neck tingled, and suddenly I didn’t know what to say.

  I had thought about the future a lot. Everyone did, I guessed. You did it all the time, just watching things like Star Wars or Iron Man. But whenever you thought of the future, you imagined flying cars and laser guns and people curing all the diseases with their amazing technology.

  Some of the technology here was pretty impressive, like the generator that was a million times quieter than the one in the equipment room at school, and the way none of their TVs needed cables.

  But I never thought anyone would forget stuff about the past.

  “Er,” I said, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Sorry, it’s just . . . well, I don’t think that’s what tiddlywinks were used for.”

  “There are some very le
arned Scholars who would disagree with you,” Mrs. Cloud said, frowning.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Iris staring at me, and suddenly guilt gnawed at my insides. I mean, if this was a story then it didn’t really matter what they thought, did it? They were just in Dad’s imagination.

  “What do you think they were used for, if not for math?”

  “For fun?” I said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “For fun. It’s a game. You ping them into a cup.”

  Mrs. Cloud burst out laughing, along with the rest of the class. I felt my cheeks growing hot. “A fine notion,” she said, “but I think we’ll go with the original interpretation in this case.”

  For the rest of the lesson, I didn’t say anything. Not even when she unveiled an old, dirt-covered phone charger and started talking about its benefits as a weapon. Partly because I didn’t want to get laughed at again. But also because something told me it would be safer to keep quiet. If they figured out I wasn’t from around here, who knew what they’d do?

  14

  “Why did you say that?” Iris said.

  She was waiting for me outside the classroom.

  I paused in the doorway. The only sound was the low hum of the lights above us, casting their electric glow throughout the corridor.

  “Because it’s true,” I said.

  Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to access Jack’s thoughts. They were still hiding, still reeling from the memory. It was impossible to get close to them.

  “You’ve never said anything like that before. You were there when I found them. Why didn’t you mention it then?”

  “Iris . . .”

  How could I tell her without freaking her out? I couldn’t exactly just say, “You’re a character in a story,” could I? I couldn’t just come out with it. “Oh, none of this is real. I’ll jump home soon and have school and a football match against Westfield and, when I do, you’ll be gone.”

  Because if I did, she’d go straight back to Quinn.

  And because standing here in front of her felt real. The heat of her glare was just as real as it would be in real life. The scuffing noise she made twisting her foot sounded just as real too. But I couldn’t just say nothing. I had to find a way of getting home, and some part of me—some part of Jack, maybe—trusted her. Maybe she could help . . .

  “This . . . this isn’t my world,” I said.

  “You’re my friend,” she said, pulling me into a corner. “I’ve known you for years. I know Quinn said you weren’t turning, but you’re going crazy or something. There is no other world. This is it. It’s just us. And, if we’re lucky, the City, if we can get through to them before it’s too late.”

  I didn’t want to argue, I just wanted her to understand. “Maybe I am going crazy. But I’m telling you the truth. I might be in Jack’s body, but I’m not Jack. I don’t know about any of this stuff. Hunting, LRP . . . That robot called us Stormwalkers, and I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  Iris stared at me, her face pale. “I don’t want you to turn Dreamless,” she said in a quiet, croaky voice that made her sound much younger than she looked. “Please, we can go to the Marshal—he knows all about the mind—”

  “Jack’s still here,” I said quickly. “I can see his life, like I’m watching it on TV. Or, I could, at least, until a few minutes ago. I know all about his dad and Ayden. Jack’s still here. It’s just . . . I’m here too.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Iris said. At the mention of Ayden’s name, she seemed to relax a little, but she was still watching me warily. “It’s impossible.”

  “Tell me about it! Try waking up in the future, trapped in a world you don’t belong in.”

  “The . . . the future?” she said. She tugged a strand of hair, twisting it round her fingers. She shook her head, slowly at first, then more vigorously. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then let me show you!” I balled my fists in frustration, rocking back and forth on my heels. Why couldn’t she see? “Let me prove it somehow—I don’t know . . . just . . . you have to believe me.”

  I didn’t know why I cared so much. When I did get back, I’d never see her again. Maybe it was part of Jack’s bond seeping into my mind, or maybe it was the fire in her eyes, her outright refusal to see it. It felt like I had a giant weight hanging in my chest, and if I could just get her to see the truth, it would dissolve.

  “You’re saying you’re a pre-Dark? You expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes!” I said, before realizing that, actually, that wasn’t what I’d meant at all. “I mean, maybe, I don’t know. I’m saying that where I’m from, it’s not even 2024 yet, and according to that video I saw in Cleansing, 2024 is way, way in the past here.”

  Iris was still shaking her head. “You know how much I love history. This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. There must be a way for me to prove it.”

  The silence stretched out between us. At the far end of the corridor, the door opened and a new group of kids came in, talking over one another.

  “Follow me,” Iris said, lowering her voice.

  She led me back into the main hall, then through the arch to the girls’ dorms. A few people rushed back past us, their arms full of something that glimmered a dozen different colors in the light.

  “Are they bottle caps?” I asked.

  Iris glanced sideways at me. I was supposed to know stuff like this, wasn’t I? If I was Jack, he’d know what was happening. I tried to access his thoughts again, but they hung out of reach.

  “You’re going to go very hungry if you’ve forgotten about caps too,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. She still didn’t believe me, did she? She still thought I was making it all up . . .

  “They’re for food?” I said.

  There were more questions bubbling in my mind, but I didn’t ask them, even though I wanted to find out what scraps of metal had to do with food.

  Food . . .

  My stomach grumbled. How long had it been since I last ate?

  “I’ll check no one’s around,” Iris said, when we arrived at the door. “Everyone should be in the square by now, but you never know.”

  She poked her head inside, then hissed for me to follow her.

  The walls were bare. The smell of dust clung to the air. There was a table in the corner covered in junk. More rubbish spilled out from under one of the beds, and, I realized, seeing the name badge, it must have all belonged to her. Old clocks and dusty books, playing cards and photo frames. The kind of stuff you’d find in charity shops round town.

  “I want you to look at something,” Iris said. She rummaged under her bed. “If you really are a pre-Dark, you’ll know all about it.”

  “What is all this?”

  Iris shook her head in disbelief.

  “The most important stuff in the world. When we go Hunting, we’re supposed to bring back the really important things we find, like gasoline or food or whatever. But if I can, I collect antiques. With these things, I get to hold a piece of history. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine I’m there.” She emerged with something in her hands. It was so heavily rusted that at first I couldn’t tell what it was. Flakes of copper-colored metal crumbled away beneath her fingers. She held it out to me, cradling it in her hands like a delicate flower. “Do you remember when we found this?”

  My eyes drifted from her face to the object and back. Even though it was in bad shape, I could tell what it was. Dad had one at home from when he was a kid. He used to try to get me to play with it when I’d spent too long on the PlayStation.

  “It’s a Slinky,” I said.

  “A slinky,” she repeated slowly, as if the letters were puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. I’d never really thought about the word slinky before, but the way she said it made it sound funny. “I don’t know where you’re getting all this from. First the tiddlywinks, now this. Jack, please tell me you remember when we found it. That
crater. The way you fought off the Dreamless with it . . .”

  She flung the metal rings from her hands so they rattled and clinked on the floor. Then she flicked her wrist and the slinky whipped back up. Her fingers had turned red-brown where the rust rubbed off.

  She handed me the Slinky.

  “Say you remember,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice now.

  If I could get through to Jack’s thoughts, maybe I’d be able to give her the answer she wanted. But the more I tried to reach them, the more they slipped away.

  “I . . . used a Slinky as a weapon?”

  “It’s . . . it’s not a weapon?”

  “Not really,” I said, trying to think of a way to say it without seeming rude. “It’s just a toy.”

  She frowned. I could almost see her brain working: trying to figure out how a bunch of metal rings could ever be a toy.

  “A toy,” she repeated.

  “I know it sounds weird.”

  “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I already tried to tell you, all this is new to me. I don’t even know what a . . . what a Dreamless is.”

  Iris’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s best that way.”

  She grabbed the Slinky and marched back toward the door.

  “Does that mean you believe me?” I called after her.

  “No,” she said. “It means I’m going to talk to Quinn. This is really bad, Jack.”

  She vanished, and, pausing just for a moment to take in all the rubbish—all the objects she obviously considered treasure—I ran after her.

  The market square was filled with children, kids my age and older, swapping junk for bottle caps and scoffing strange-looking food. A sweet, buttery smell filled the air and my stomach grumbled again.

  “Iris . . .” I started, chasing after her.

  “Where do you live?” she said, turning on me and shoving me hard in the chest. “If you really are a pre-Dark, where do you live?”

  “Well . . . here,” I said. “In Cambridge.”

  “Cambridge?”