Oasis

by Katya de Becerra

  Trapped in Minh’s hands, the tablet was emitting a high buzzing that hurt me from afar—sending my ears pulsing, my eyes tearing up. Through our connection, the tablet was screaming in my head, its cry intensifying as Minh approached the cliffs. I could already see it—the shadows of my own demise in the foamy dark waves raging below the drop. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re near death, but that wasn’t exactly the case with me. What I was thinking in that moment was that I should’ve been nicer to my mother, more forgiving maybe. I didn’t know where the thought came from, but the regret was crushing.

  But if I got the tablet back from Minh, I could make it all right again. I could fix everything—I could beg the Queen of Giants for another chance. For me. For all of us. “Minh, wait!” I yelled, losing my breath in my mad dash. Others were right behind me, but it was up to me to stop Minh now.

  Minh paused on the cliff’s edge, dangerously close to the drop. The winds were battering her from all sides, her hair wild and her body about to fly away. I was less than ten feet from her when Minh turned to face me. A mask of pain and struggle made her face unrecognizable. Who was this girl?

  “Don’t come any nearer!” Minh warned, and I halted, Tommy almost bumping into me. The others must’ve been behind us—I could sense their combined tension with every bit of my skin.

  “Minh, listen to me,” I said, struggling to speak against the wind whistling in my ears. “If you destroy it…”

  “This thing is evil,” Minh cried out. She angled her body so she could hold the tablet in one hand, over the edge of the cliff.

  “It might be the only thing that’s keeping us alive right now!” I begged her with my eyes to listen to me, to reconsider. “Noam Delamer is dead, and we all might be next!”

  “This isn’t life,” Minh said, no longer yelling. I could hear her all the same, as if she’d said the words directly into my ear. Awkwardly, she shifted her weight again, bringing herself even closer to the drop. The dark desperation in her eyes was what moved me. Without giving it a second thought, I tackled her. I knew full well we could both end up falling, but I also knew I wasn’t about to let someone else decide my fate for me.

  The world around me darkened. I grabbed on to Minh with everything I had, my hands going around her waist. There was a sudden pain in my stomach, the kind that I somehow knew came with stabbing—the piercing of flesh, with the blade burning its way in, disrespectful of internal organs, of bones. In our struggle, I looked down and saw a gaping hole in my stomach, blood gushing out. I couldn’t even scream. This was an illusion. It had to be. The tablet was misfiring, terrified. But I was weakening quickly. My feet were slipping on the wet grass. The yawning drop below me beckoned.

  “Let go, Alif…,” Minh hissed as I kept reaching for the tablet, my fingers sliding against it.

  Another chance … I begged the Queen of Giants. For me and my friends.

  My thoughts were all tangled, a messy ball of yarn, all emotion, no logic.

  And what are you willing to do to get what you want? came the answer, calm and quiet but also deafening. For a moment, I was back in the white-walled throne room without a ceiling, where a throne made of human bones and possessions towered over me. The Queen of Giants was there, seated on her throne, her head lost to the clouds. I could see myself through her eyes. She was always watching.

  My response came easily, like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place; there was only one spot where it could fit. I’ll do whatever’s necessary.

  Then came a sizzling noise, followed by a whooshing sound. The sensation of my ears popping. I was still holding on to Minh when the tablet slid out of our combined grip and fell into the watery abyss below.

  WHISPERS, PROMISES

  Lori cried out behind me, and then there was no sound but the howling wind. I looked down. The tablet’s descent was excruciatingly long, and every cell of me, every atom that made up my body, was feeling the terror the lonely spark felt as she fell to her death. This was so mundane. Our spark had survived the vacuum of space and her perilous journey to Earth—how could her ultimate ending ever be adequate? But all the same, her pain was my pain, her fear my fear. I hated her and, in a way, I loved her. In her own twisted way, perhaps she loved me back.

  And then she finally met the rocks below. My heart constricted, and slowly I collapsed to my knees. I searched the swirling water below, but there was nothing down there but jagged rocks and dark waves frantically attacking everything in sight, vicious and hungry, a pack of rabid beasts fighting over prey.

  I strained to listen, to feel for the tablet, and for a moment I thought there was a signal, like a faint echo of something. But it was gone before I could zero in on it. The tablet must’ve shattered into pieces, and I couldn’t even cry—that’s how stunned I was, how emptied out by grief. My friends were equally silent as they surrounded Minh and me in a loose semicircle. It must’ve been Tommy’s hand resting on my shoulder. It provided little in the way of reassurance.

  The wind was unforgiving, and yet all I could feel was the clammy heat, the kind that makes clothes stick to skin. My face was tight and burning now, and my throat was parched—the kind of thirst I learned in the desert.

  “Alif…” Minh’s voice was weak. I turned to her just as she lowered herself down next to me, then came to lie on her side, facing the point where, up ahead, dark water met dark sky.

  “I’m here. We’re all here,” I said. “Together.”

  Minh’s body jerked as she coughed up sand. Tearing against the wind, I blinked my eyes to clear this vision, but it stayed the same. I closed my eyes again, keeping them shut longer this time, and something must’ve changed. The wind had stopped, and I could feel bright light all around me. It was bothering my vision even through my eyelids. There was a part of me that knew what was happening. It knew this entire time but didn’t want to admit it. A self-preservation mechanism. A human way to cope in the face of a decisively alien threat.

  Everything that happened to us was a test, I thought, and by the looks of it we’d failed. Maybe this was our second chance? A rerun of the game so that we could do better? One thing was certain in my mind: We had to stay together if we were to sustain her, in order for her to sustain us. We were linked now, forever.

  A familiar voice reverberated inside my head. Open your eyes. I did as asked.

  I was lying on my back, facing up to the blinding, cloudless sky. Up above, the heads of wild palms swayed in the wind, their shapes black against white.

  I was back. We all were. Perhaps we’d never left.

  I could hear the others as they came to their senses.

  Nothing was real. Everything was real. Never. Forever. Words and concepts didn’t matter here. The oasis enveloped us like a mother cradles a baby close to her chest, heartbeats synchronizing. The tablet was nowhere in sight. Perhaps it never left the temple. Perhaps it never even existed outside of our hive mind. But I knew the lonely spark was watching. It was always watching. It chose us, and it wasn’t done with us. Not yet. Did it really hear me when I asked for a second chance? What else did I promise it in my burst of desperation?

  I sat up and looked around me. The achingly familiar palm trees towered over me, their heads swaying gently in the wind, fronds rustling. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed flowers and multicolored fruit everywhere, shiny and perfect, glistening in the breezy heat. There was the unmistakable noise of a burbling spring. And then also those darker, shadowed gaps between the trees, from which something invisible was staring back at me.

  My friends were close by, wild-eyed and dazed but also alive. Slowly, I met Minh’s eyes, healthy color having returned to her cheeks, and she looked away, clearly disappointed with me but also resolved. Tommy came close and sat down on the grass next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I looked up and found him smiling. He leaned in and placed a sweet little kiss on my nose, then on my cheeks, and finally on my lips.

  Not far fr
om us, Lori and Rowen were locked in a hug, while Luke just stared on, focusing on nothing in particular, his expression unreadable.

  A sound of distant thunder brought us all to our feet. The sky above was clear, so the noise must’ve been coming from the desert. If any of us felt fear, none of us showed it.

  “Our rescue is here,” Tommy said, focusing on the space beyond the trees, where our oasis merged with the desert. As if his words had the power to reshape reality, the thunder transformed into the roar of engines. With a pang in my chest, I thought of my dad. Of Mom. Of my life back in Melbourne. All of it was far away now. Still part of me, but also belonging to some other Alif—my doppelgänger in a parallel universe.

  We all exchanged looks. Our bodies were still tense as our minds adjusted to our new reality. But one thing was certain—we weren’t running toward our rescue. It wasn’t our time to leave. Not yet.

  The darkness that lurked in the depths of the oasis beckoned us. I took Tommy’s hand and gently pulled as I started moving away from the noise of the cars and toward our salvation, down where the heart of the oasis was beating slowly but surely. My friends followed close behind. The tree branches and thorny shrubbery moved out of our way. The deeper in we progressed, the more I could hear it—in my chest, in my heart—the lonely spark whispering the promise of eternal life and unmeasurable treasures and everything that I could wish for and more, now and forever.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction, and while it is set in real places—the United Arab Emirates and my hometown of Melbourne, Australia—places and institutions described in this book are fictionalized. Tell Abrar, where the archaeological excavation at the heart of this book takes place, and Silver Crescent, where the book’s latter parts unfold, are imaginary places partially inspired by real locations. As an author I have to alter reality a bit to put it in harmony with the events of this book. For similar reasons, I have created two Melbourne-based universities—Dunston and the University of Southern Melbourne.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  How can this be? Five years ago, as I was fighting my way out of query trenches, I started drafting a new NaNoWriMo project driven by my love of archaeology and Andrei Tarkovsky’s movies. That project eventually became Oasis. Here I am now, writing acknowledgments for this book that I’m immensely proud of. Mind blown.

  So many amazing and talented people have worked tirelessly to make this book the best it can be, and it’s one of my biggest publishing-related anxieties to forget someone vital in my thankful gushing. But I shall try nonetheless.

  John Morgan, my editor extraordinaire. I swear, sometimes you know exactly where I’m going way before I know that myself. Or is it all the time?

  Erin Stein, my stellar publisher. Thank you for making my publishing dreams come true—again!

  Amy Tipton, who was instrumental in guiding this book in its metamorphosis from an unpolished manuscript to a good-enough-to-show-to-editors almost-book.

  Jeff Miller at Faceout Studio for creating yet another mind-blowing cover.

  Rena Rossner, my agent (and a talented writer herself), whose multifaceted work never ceases to inspire me.

  Everyone at Imprint and Macmillan Kids, but especially Hayley Jozwiak, Erica Ferguson, Dawn Ryan, Kristin Dulaney, Nicole Otto, Brittany Pearlman, and Kelsey Marrujo; Natalie C. Sousa and Elynn Cohen for the stunning book design. I’m lucky and happy and privileged to be working with you all.

  Ellen Peppus at Signature Literary. Erin Cashman, Rachel Caine, and everyone at 1st5Pages workshop—I learn from you and with you every day. All my friends at Electric Eighteens and Renegades (or are we Rena-Gates?); Melanie and Sarah at Unplugged Book Box.

  My author friends, in no particular order. Thank you for being infallibly excellent and always there when I need you: Astrid Scholte, S. Gonzales, Ella Dyson, Rachael Craw, Sarah Epstein, Sara Faring, Lucia DiStefano, Candace Robinson, Jess Flint, Shivaun Plozza, Lee Kofman, Kayla Ancrum, Adalyn Grace, Kristina Perez, Alison Evans, Lyndall Clipstone, Dana L. Davis, and Wendy J. Dunn.

  Sarah Robinson-Hatch as well as the YA Room’s Shaun and Bianca deserve a special mention for all the tireless and enthusiastic work being done for Melbourne’s thriving and ever-expanding YA community.

  To all the readers, booksellers, librarians, reviewers, bloggers, and various other kinds of book people (book people are the best people!) who picked up my debut and loved it and spread the word and then got excited about Oasis way before it was anywhere ready. In no particular order: Mike, Vicky, Katherine x2, Cherry, Kate, Kait, Meg, Leah, Tracy, Tasha, and Jayse (and everyone over at the Nerd Daily and GeekCon), Annie (and everyone at Read3er’z Re-Vu), Austine, Joel, and Ian (and everyone at Speculate), Angela (and Readings as well as Readings Teen Advisory Group), Emma (and all of Dymocks), as well as wonderful booksellers at Galaxy, Kinokuniya, Harry Hartog, Paperchain (hi, Claire!), and so many others for welcoming me and offering support and being awesome.

  My “day job” book-loving friends who are pretty much the reason I don’t spend my days at work sobbing in despair: Antoinette, Ay Sian, Barbara, Carol, Gertie, Min-Hui, Kerina, and Effie. Also Liz, who has now left for better (academic) pastures but who’s been the best and most supportive boss ever.

  And, of course, Jorge—thank you for making sure not all of my weekends are spent hunched over a laptop and that I get to experience the world outside and feel the sunshine on my skin, even if I have to be tricked into leaving the house for that to happen.

  Last but not least, I thank my parents, who brought me up to love books and crave knowledge; and my extended family spread across two continents and three countries: Lydia, Angela, Paola, Jaxson, Roberto, Simi, Miguel, Jason, and Clery.

  And Augusto—we miss you terribly.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Katya de Becerra was born in Russia, studied in California, lived in Peru, and then stayed in Australia long enough to become a local. She was going to be an Egyptologist when she grew up, but instead she earned a PhD in anthropology. Her stories tend to be set in strange locales where it rains a lot and odd things go bump in the night. Katya is a short version of her real name, which is very long and gets mispronounced a lot. On her blog, she muses about pop culture, urban fantasy, science fiction, and monsters.

  @KatyaDeBecerra

  Visit her online at katyabecerra.blogspot.com, or sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Fernweh (Is German for “Wanderlust”)

  Tell Abrar

  Welcome to the Dig

  A Trowel, a Plumb Bob, and Not a Single Sun Hat in Sight

  When a Stranger Comes from the Desert

  The Thing about Curses

  Exodus and the Power of the Internet

  Certain Benefits Come with Working in the Kitchen

  And the Wind Howled

  Out of Comfort Zone

  Hemingway, Bones, and Mirages

  In Heaven, Everything is Fine

  Whatever’s Necessary

  Sabotage?

  Cogito, Ergo Sum

  A Night Visitor

  Worse than Sabotage

  The Power of Denial

  The Dream Maker

  Reality? Any Takers?

  Recovery

  Reality Fissures

  The Real Tale of the Desert Man

  Ghosts and Smugglers

  To many Strange Returns

  The Rift

  Where is the Intervention Banner?

  We are all
Dying

  It Ends. Or it Begins.

  Communion by the Cliffs

  Whispers, Promises

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2020 by Katya de Becerra

  Imprint

  A part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC

  120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271

  fiercereads.com

  All rights reserved.

  The insatiable oasis will hunt down the thieves of this book and tear them apart, limb by limb, devouring their screaming souls and spitting out bones.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019932731

  Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

  Imprint logo designed by Amanda Spielman

  First hardcover edition, 2020

  eBook edition, January 2020

  eISBN 978-1-250-22085-1