This Town Is Not All Right

by M. K. Krys

  It was clear from his tone that there was no way he’d do it, but it was the permission they needed. They started for the elevator.

  But it was too late.

  The Sov had arrived.

  The kids stepped back from the approaching army of green and black. Light glinted off the guards’ myriad weapons. Not just batons and wrist lasers, but guns. Big, menacing-looking guns. Beacon’s heart stuttered.

  Leading the charge next to Victor—the real Victor—was the twins’ dad.

  For half a second, Beacon expected his dad to break away from them, or to reveal that he’d somehow convinced the others to come to their side. But the guards ground to a halt, weapons up and trained on the kids, and his dad stayed firmly behind the guards’ line of protection.

  He caught sight of Jasper, and his eyes went wide. The color leached from his face. “J-Jasper?” he said. He wobbled slightly, as if he were going to pass out. Beacon hated his dad right now, but he couldn’t stand that look on his face. Couldn’t stand knowing that his dad thought the impossible had somehow happened, and his son was back.

  “It’s not him,” Beacon said. “It’s a Sov, trying to trick us into staying.”

  “Aw, come on, Beaks. I thought we talked about that?” Jasper said with a wry smile.

  Their dad took a steeling breath. He couldn’t stop looking at Jasper.

  “Deal with them,” Victor commanded.

  Their dad blinked hard, then shook his head, as if clearing it. He stepped forward hesitantly, one hand held out, as if he were approaching a wild animal. Beacon didn’t fail to notice that he wasn’t looking at Jasper anymore. Maybe he couldn’t.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” he told the twins.

  “You mean like throwing your own kids to the wolves?” Everleigh snapped.

  “It’s not like that,” he said. “This program is to protect you.”

  “Oh, yeah, I feel super safe right now,” Beacon said, gesturing at all the guns pointed at them. “Thanks for that, Dad. What, you didn’t get enough with losing one kid?”

  Their dad winced. And despite everything, Beacon winced, too.

  “We just want to talk to you,” their dad said.

  Beacon snorted. “Talk to you. Is that a metaphor for ‘stab you with a needle’?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had a few ‘conversations’ with you guys,” Arthur said. The bruise on his cheek looked purpler than ever.

  “If you come with us, you won’t get hurt. I promise you that,” their dad said.

  “Not happening,” Everleigh said.

  “This is stupid, Everleigh. Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? It’s five o’clock. The sun’s going down, it’s going to be dark soon. You’ll be all alone, with an entire army of Sov and the government chasing after you. You wouldn’t make it halfway to that diner with the crinkle-cut fries before we found you. If you come with us, tomorrow will be a whole new day.”

  Beacon squinted. He’d never heard his dad speak so phonily before. He sounded like he was reading lines from a made-for-TV action movie.

  “Just go,” Nixon ordered, cutting into his thoughts.

  Beacon’s legs felt made of rubber. How could he leave? His dad was here. His brother—there was so much to say.

  But Jasper wasn’t really here, and their dad had betrayed them.

  He backed up, and the others followed suit.

  “Leaving so soon?” Jasper said, his head swiveling to follow him. “Come on, pal. We haven’t even had a chance to catch up.”

  Beacon’s heart clenched so hard, it hurt.

  “I love you,” Beacon said.

  “Love me? You’re leaving me.” Jasper’s voice had taken on an angry edge. Beacon looked away. He wanted to say goodbye—he’d never had the chance before—but his brother was long gone.

  “My favorite is a seventy-three Triumph,” Everleigh said on the way past. “Jasper would have known that.”

  Beacon, Everleigh, and Arthur got inside the elevator.

  “You’re making a big mistake!” their dad yelled. Victor screamed at them to stop. Guards poised their weapons.

  “Don’t come closer, or I’ll shoot!” Nixon said. He grabbed Jasper around his neck to keep him in place, angling himself behind his body.

  The elevator doors slid closed with a ping. Everleigh clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears slipped down Beacon’s cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. Arthur just stared at the floor, a shell-shocked expression on his face.

  The ride up was quiet. All Beacon wanted to do was curl up in a ball. Fold into himself. Feel his dad’s arms around him telling him that it would all be okay. He kept having to remind himself that his dad wasn’t on their side anymore.

  The elevator shuddered to a stop. As soon as the doors opened and the fresh, wet air hit his lungs, he flipped a switch. He couldn’t be sad right now. He just had to be fast.

  The kids ran out. Beacon desperately searched the dark harbor for Donna’s truck amid all the Sov vehicles, before he remembered that she probably wasn’t on their side. He felt an unexpected rush of anger. He didn’t know why her betrayal hit him so hard—maybe it was just because it was finally sinking in that you could really only trust yourself.

  Everleigh grabbed Beacon’s hand and jerked him forward. They ran over the pebbly shore, their feet slipping and sliding on the wet rocks.

  Beacon saw a beam of yellow light.

  “Get down,” Everleigh ordered. The three of them crouched behind a sandbar, just as a flashlight beam roved over their heads.

  The shed door banged open behind them. They ducked low, close to the ground. Barely breathed. The pier crawled with guards and black vans with darkly tinted windows.

  “Look!” Beacon whispered.

  He pointed at the shore. Dozens of squid creatures were rising out of the water, giant tentacles moving unnaturally fast over the rocks.

  “What the heck are those?” Arthur squeaked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Everleigh whispered. “We’ve got to get out of here. Fast.” She scoured the scene, her eyes locking on a slope of grass a few yards away. “That hill, over there,” she said, nodding. “Right after these guys pass.”

  They kept still, their breaths held tight as a squid creature slurped past, its tentacles sending up enormous puffs of sand in its wake.

  “Now,” Everleigh said.

  She popped up and scrambled up the hill. Beacon and Arthur skidded to a stop behind her. The three of them ducked and dived and ran, hardly breathing until they were clear of the harbor. And then they ran more. They ran until their legs shook and they couldn’t do it anymore. They bent over behind the trunk of a huge pine tree, catching their breath, wheezing in harsh, short gasps. In the near distance, pale sunlight struggled through clouds, cresting over the peaked roofs of Driftwood Harbor proper.

  “What do we do now?” Beacon asked.

  Everleigh sank down hard and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. We’re trapped.”

  The words came out strangled and thick. Beacon realized that she was crying. Not a few elegant tears, but big, ugly, hiccuping gulps that came from deep inside her.

  Beacon had never seen his sister cry like this. Seeing her so out of control made him feel unmoored, like a sailboat rocking hard in rough waters.

  “It’s okay, Ev,” he said, rubbing her back. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “How?” She looked up from between her fingers. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and there was snot running from her nose into her mouth. “Dad’s gone, Jasper’s gone. We’re all alone.”

  Beacon fought hard to control the frenzied beating of his heart. It couldn’t be true. And yet, all of what she said held the ring of truth.

  They were all alone in the world. In a world scarier and more dangerous than he�
��d ever thought possible. Where everything he thought he knew was wrong, where everyone he loved left him.

  He thought back to his dad, his face twisted with anger. It was so unlike him that Beacon was beginning to think he’d never known him at all. How much of it was a lie? he wondered. When did it start? When Jasper died? Or before that? Had he been pretending this whole time? Had he ever really cared?

  He must have, he thought. But then he kept turning over his dad’s words in that tunnel again and again. He wanted to believe him, but his words spoke for themselves. You wouldn’t make it halfway to that diner before we found you. No, not the diner. That diner with the crinkle-cut fries. Beacon snorted derisively. That was a stupid thing to say. Why hadn’t he just said “the Home Sweet Home diner” or “the diner we stopped at on the way here,” or even just “the diner on the highway”?

  He frowned suddenly. His dad was so particular. So methodical. He never said anything before he carefully thought out his words, mapped it all out in his head. Beacon went over his dad’s words again. Tried to remember everything this time. Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? It’s five o’clock. The sun’s going down, it’s going to be dark soon. You’ll be all alone, with an entire army of Sov and the government chasing after you. You wouldn’t make it halfway to that diner with the crinkle-cut fries before we found you. If you come with us, tomorrow will be a whole new day.

  “Everleigh. Dad didn’t betray us,” Beacon said.

  “I know I’ve called you a lot of names this year, but I never thought you were this dumb,” Everleigh grumbled. “How much more evidence do you need?”

  “Sorry, dude, but I’m with her,” Arthur said.

  “Remember what he said back there?” Beacon went on. “He said we wouldn’t make it to the diner with the crinkle-cut fries before they found us. He said it’s five p.m., but it’s only four thirty, and that was at least half an hour ago. He said tomorrow would be another day. He didn’t say the name of the diner so no one else would know where we were meeting, but he said the thing about the crinkle-cut fries so we’d know!”

  Everleigh lifted her head. Wet strands of hair were clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were red and glossy from crying, but there was something else there, too. Hope.

  “Think about it—have you ever heard Dad talk like that before? It was definitely a clue! He wants us to meet him at that diner at five o’clock tomorrow! We’ll meet up and then go to the next county over—you heard what Victor said: The state police over there are all over their butts. They’ll help us blow this whole alien thing out of the water.”

  “That sounds great and everything,” Arthur said. “Except for one small problem. How are we going to get there?”

  Everleigh stood up, a grin tugging at her lips.

  “We’ll drive there, obviously.”

  19

  “Hurry up,” Beacon said.

  Beacon was huddled in the passenger seat of the 1968 Mercury Cougar while Everleigh crouched beneath the steering wheel. She had the front panel off and was peeling back wires and twisting others together, muttering to herself. She’d been working on it for the last ten minutes, and Beacon was pretty sure it wasn’t possible for his heart to race any faster.

  “We’re so going to get caught,” Arthur said from the back seat. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” He was rocking back and forth like he was on an amusement park ride.

  Beacon looked over his shoulder. Just feet away, through the wire fence, he could see the residents of Driftwood Harbor walking up and down the cobbled path of the main square. To the casual observer, it was a peaceful scene in a beautiful small town. But Beacon knew better. He saw the mother tying her daughter’s shoelaces on the bench, while casting a glance underneath it. He saw the fishermen rigging their boats, while also checking every place where three twelve-year-old kids might hide. He saw the new faces taking a stroll near the marina when new faces were ultrarare, their eyes a bit too wide and alert.

  They were looking for them.

  “Please hurry!” Arthur said.

  “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  “Well, go faster!” Beacon said.

  “Trust me,” Everleigh replied. “When I get this thing going, no one’s going to catch up to us.”

  Beacon bobbed his knee impatiently as she worked. Finally, there was a deep, throaty rumble as the engine roared to life, the seat vibrating underneath him.

  “Yes!” Arthur cheered. “I never doubted you!”

  Everleigh rolled her eyes as she popped up and adjusted her seat. Beacon tried not to worry about the fact that her feet barely reached the pedals as he buckled his seat belt.

  Everleigh slid the gearshift into drive. The car jerked forward, then stopped abruptly as Everleigh slammed on the brakes. Beacon braced his hands on the dash, his eyes bulging.

  “Sorry,” Everleigh said. “She’s touchy.”

  She tried again; this time, the car eased shakily forward.

  “Oh God,” Arthur said.

  “Relax,” Everleigh said. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Hey!” a voice called out.

  The mechanic was leaning out the door of the shop, his face red and twisted with rage; a cigarette dangled from his lips. He charged toward the car.

  “Lay on it!” Beacon cried.

  Everleigh slammed on the gas, and Beacon flattened against the seat. They crashed through the fence.

  Beacon and Arthur twisted to look behind them. The mechanic was standing in the middle of the street, glowering as a crowd of onlookers gathered around him.

  “Holy smokes, did you see that?” Arthur screeched, his voice breaking. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done!”

  “Save the celebrations for when we get out of this town,” Everleigh said.

  Without warning, the clouds broke open and it began to rain. The misty type of rain that you couldn’t see falling but that drenched you in an instant. More clouds rolled in above them, the sky darkening to a dangerous slate gray. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  There was a red sedan at the stop sign in front of them. It should have been moving along by the time they approached, but it didn’t budge, despite there being no traffic. Everleigh honked the horn, and the driver rolled down her window and stuck out her head.

  “I’m sorry! My engine doesn’t seem to be working. Do you think you can call the tow truck for me? I don’t have a cell phone.” The woman sent them a pleading look, her bottom lip wobbling slightly.

  Everleigh’s eyes narrowed. She revved the engine and peeled around the car.

  “Everleigh!” Beacon cried, twisting back to look at the woman. “You could have at least said something!”

  “You really think her car was broken down?” Everleigh said without taking her eyes off the road. “Think about it, Beacon. She just saw a bunch of kids driving a car and she didn’t say anything about it? She didn’t even look surprised?”

  Beacon felt a tingly sensation in his head. She was right.

  The rain began falling in earnest. The windshield wipers whipped over the glass in a wild streak of water. Blurred red taillights shone from the next stop sign up ahead.

  Lo and behold, there was a car stalled lengthwise in the middle of the road. A woman stood next to the open hood, a crying baby on her hip. Her hair and clothes were plastered against her body as she uselessly shielded herself against the onslaught. She hailed them as they passed.

  A baby? They were good.

  “Who knew car troubles were contagious,” Arthur said.

  There was a loud thunk as Everleigh hopped the curb, the car tilting dangerously as she drove half on, half off the sidewalk. She sped past the diversion.

  The third time, there was a woman in a neon vest and hard hat holding up a giant stop sign in front of a dump truck and backhoe that blocked the
entire four-way stop. Behind her, two construction workers called to each other over an open sewer drain spewing smoke. But Beacon knew better than to think this wasn’t happening on purpose. The Sov had clearly planned for something like this.

  Everleigh slammed on the brakes and laid on the horn with the heel of her hand. The woman frowned, and Beacon gasped.

  “Mrs. Miller?” Beacon squeaked.

  “Who?” Everleigh said.

  “That’s—that’s my teacher,” Beacon said.

  What was she doing here? Was she even a real teacher?

  A crawly feeling churned inside his gut.

  There was no way around.

  Beacon sent a panicked look behind them. A procession of black vans was twisting up the street toward them like ants on the scent of a discarded meal.

  “We have trouble!” Arthur cried.

  Everleigh scowled into the rearview mirror, then jerked the gearshift into reverse. They screeched back, careening madly toward the vans. Everleigh slammed on the brakes at the previous stop sign—the woman and her baby were gone—and then cranked the steering wheel to the left. The tires spun on the wet pavement for a frustrating moment before finally gaining purchase. They flew forward, the car’s back end fishtailing.

  They blew through town, passing drowning orchards and fields of soggy yellow grass. They were going so fast that there were times the tires weren’t even touching the pavement. Beacon couldn’t help thinking about how little experience Everleigh had driving, and what would happen to them if they crashed. He heard the earsplitting bang of metal, felt the horrifying crunch of bones breaking. A nauseous feeling roiled through him. He got the impression Arthur was feeling the same way, based on the little whimpers he was making.

  He wanted to tell Everleigh to slow down, but speed was all that mattered right now.

  That’s what he told himself as they tore down the interstate, away from Driftwood Harbor.

  The car slowed.

  “What are you doing?” Beacon asked, leaning forward.

  “I . . . think we should go back,” Everleigh said.