The Vanished

by Nic Stone

“Excellent. I’m sure you loves will work things out. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And Shuri exits the room before the lump in her chest moves up into her throat and spills out her eyes.

  But the princess doesn’t keep her word.

  In fact, she doubles down on her avoidance of K’Marah. For the next couple of days, Shuri spends just about every waking hour—and even a handful of sleeping ones—holed up in her laboratory, studying like her very life depends on it. The song from the Garden thankfully begins to fade, so she’s able to focus without fuzzy recollections of the place invading her thoughts, and with three exams to ace within three days, no one questions Shuri’s semireclusive behavior.

  Well … almost no one.

  “Shuri, have you spoken with K’Marah as of late?” Nakia asks the moment Shuri breaks for a midafternoon snack on day two of hide-and-cram. The Dora is sitting on one of the leather couches Shuri had added to what has essentially become a sitting area in the lab space. There’s even a coffee table made from the salvaged wood of a formerly poisoned border forest tree (shout-out to K’Marah’s ex-flame, Henbane) covered in American fashion magazines pilfered from Clothier Lwazi.

  “Hmm?” Shuri says, freezing on the spot almost directly behind the Dora.

  “K’Marah,” Nakia replies, turning a page in a periodical called Elle. “You two are still good friends, yes? Or did I miss something?”

  For reasons beyond Shuri’s comprehension, her heart begins to race. “Umm … yes. We are.” She unsticks her feet and walks as quickly as she can to the kitchen without seeming like she’s attempting to flee the conversation (which … she is).

  “Ah. Good,” Nakia goes on. “So you can tell me what’s really going on with her, then? I don’t want to pry, but I’m beginning to worry.”

  The princess is very happy there is a wall between them now: It prevents Nakia from being able to see Shuri’s face. “What …” Shuri gulps, “… are you worried about, exactly?”

  “We haven’t seen her since your shared trip to Ethiopia. Word on the Upanga mats is that she’s ill. Picked up some sort of norovirus during your trip to Ethiopia. Is that true?”

  Oh Bast. Is Shuri really about to lie outright again? She takes a deep breath. “Yes. It, umm … took a while to air out my travel vessel, in fact. The stench was horrific.”

  “Ah,” Nakia says. “So … how do you think you managed to avoid it?”

  Uh-oh. “Hmm?”

  “You are clearly familiar with norovirus, so my assumption is that you know how contagious it is, Princess,” Nakia says. “I can understand your not contracting it from the same source as K’Marah, but you two surely had enough contact for her to pass it on to you. The clothier also seems to have escaped unscathed. Which is … unusual.”

  “Oh. Umm …” But Shuri can’t come up with a single thing to say.

  “The next time you speak with her, please let her know we send our well wishes and are concerned. No one has been able to get in contact with her since—”

  But an alert chime rings through the air.

  And as thankful as Shuri is that it cuts her conversation with Nakia short, she’s none too thrilled with what it means: There’s a new hit on the P.R.O.W.L. network.

  * * *

  Convincing Nakia to “take a fiver” so Shuri can listen to the transcript in private might be the most difficult thing the princess has done in the past week. She had to stoop to issuing a royal command, which obligated the Dora to comply without question. Her face was steel on the way out into the cave corridor. (If the warrior wasn’t suspicious enough about what might really be going on with the princess and her Dora-in-training friend, she certainly is now.)

  After cursing herself for forgetting to turn the network off the minute she entered the lab, Shuri sits down in front of her computer screen. The transcript is short, but she can’t bring herself to read it. She presses the button to play the recording and braces herself for the worst.

  ALERT: KEYWORD JOSEPHINE DUBOIS

  LOCATION: KAMPALA, UGANDA

  TIME: 15:22

  TRANSCRIPTION:

  “… JOSEPHINE DUBOIS RECOMMENDED THIS RECRUIT YOU SAY?”

  “CORRECT. SHE CLAIMS TO HAVE [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] HERE SOME TIME AGO [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] TECH SUMMIT.”

  “AHA. AND [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] THE YOUNG LADY’S SPECIALTY?”

  “ADVANCED COMBAT AND [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE].”

  “HMM … I GUESS THAT COULD COME IN HANDY. AND SHE IS LOCATED [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] KAMPALA?”

  “NO, MADAM. WE ARE HERE BECAUSE [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] LAST POINT OF CONTACT. THIS RECRUIT IS … DIFFERENT. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT WE GATHER MORE INTEL BEFORE [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE].”

  “I SEE. BUT YOU DO KNOW WHERE [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE]?”

  “WE DO. SHE IS IN [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] … APPROXIMATELY 900 KILOMETERS NORTHEAST.”

  “REALLY? DOES THIS MEAN [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] TWO RECRUITS FROM [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE]?”

  “MY THINKING IS THAT WE RECRUIT HER INSTEAD [UNABLE TO TRANSCRIBE] MUCH TOO HIGH-PROFILE.”

  “ALL RIGHT. WELL, SHE BETTER BE GOOD …”

  END TRANSCRIPTION.

  Shuri puts her forehead on the desk. Not because she’s too terribly troubled by what she just heard (at least there’s not a new girl missing … yet). More because she knows the name Josephine all too well.

  She has no choice now: She has to find and speak to K’Marah.

  The door buzzes as Nakia returns from her break, and Shuri lets her in.

  “Did you complete whatever NSIFOG scheme you were working on?” she says, clearly still miffed over being bossed around by an early adolescent.

  “NSIFOG?”

  “Not safe in front of grown-ups.”

  Shuri clears her throat and stands to gather her things. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nakia.”

  “Mm-hmm. It was clearly enough to drag your face out of all those textbooks. Seems it was also enough to persuade your exit from this den of experimental bliss?”

  “Shh.”

  “Is that a royal command, Princess?”

  Shuri sighs and slings her knapsack over her shoulder. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Nope,” Nakia says.

  They walk in silence up to the cave entrance, and once they’re inside Nakia’s miniature hovercraft, Shuri opens her mouth to speak—

  But apparently doesn’t need to. “We are headed to the mines, I suppose?”

  “Huh?”

  “You intend to visit your dear friend, do you not?”

  Shuri is stunned. “But how—”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Princess. Your lack of vomiting and all the other unpleasant manifestations of a true norovirus lead me to believe our beloved K’Marah is lacking these symptoms as well. And while I don’t appreciate your secrecy—or you bossing me around—I do very much appreciate your checking on her.”

  They fall silent, and within seven minutes, Shuri is exiting Nakia’s craft and headed up the glistening asphalt walkway (she’s always wondered how they manage to keep it so shiny) to the long, sleek house where K’Marah lives.

  Not only is she permitted entrance without question, K’Marah’s mother, whom Shuri is shocked to see at home, is so thrilled about the princess’s visit, she pulls Shuri into a hug that practically crushes her small bones.

  “Ohhhhh!” the woman howls in Shuri’s ear. “My, how you have grown!” She lets go.

  Shuri clears her throat. “It is wonderful to see you, too, Auntie. Things are good in the mines?”

  “Why, yes, they are, Your Majesty.” With a playful bow.

  It embarrasses Shuri. (What will she do if she ever does have to rule this nation? Deferential elders are almost too much for Shuri’s order-bound mind to handle.) “Umm … might I pay K’Marah a visit?”

  At this, the woman’s face—which is a glowing, slightly more ma
ture version of K’Marah’s—morphs from delight to deep concern. “She is quite ill, as I’m sure you’re aware. We, ahh …” She looks over her shoulder at the closed door to K’Marah’s bedroom. “Well, she has insisted on that door remaining closed so ‘nothing gets out,’ as she put it.”

  Shuri nods. Whatever is going on with her best friend—and she is now 100 percent certain K’Marah is not ill because if she were, the girl would insist on being catered to around the clock—Shuri needs to find out. Perhaps hearing about this ping on her French friend’s name and trying to decipher what it means will give K’Marah the resolve to come out of her room.

  “The incubation period for contagion should be over,” Shuri says, talking utter nonsense as she heads to the door. “And I took some Vibranium-enhanced elderberry, so I should be immune.”

  “Whatever you say, dear!”

  Shuri takes a deep inhale before turning the knob, and then she slips in, quickly shutting the door behind her.

  “Go away unless you want everything you eat and drink to exit both ends of you simultaneously,” comes a voice from the midst of what appears to be a pile of blankets on the bed.

  Shuri rolls her eyes before letting them roam the dim room. It’s been so long since she’s been here—K’Marah typically comes to her—she forgot how over-the-top the space is: The ceiling is swathed with gauzy fabric that Shuri knows will illuminate with fairy lights if she flips the correct switch on the wall. There’s a small sitting area in the corner complete with tufted ottomans and ultra-plush chairs that practically suck the sitter down into their depths. (“Memory foam!” K’Marah once told her. “It’s all the rage in America.”) And the bed Shuri’s dear friend has exiled herself to? It’s canopy-style and even wider than Shuri’s, draped with an iridescent green lace that makes one feel lost in an enchanted forest whenever the panels aren’t tied to the four posts.

  “K’Marah, you have to get up,” Shuri says from her post near the door. She’d love to say the possibility of K’Marah truly being ill is what keeps her rooted to the spot … but there’s something else, too. A trepidation Shuri couldn’t name if she tried.

  “Shuri?” The lump shifts. “Is that you?”

  “Yes. Now come. I know you’re not really sick.”

  “It’s too hard,” K’Marah says.

  Shuri’s nervousness kicks up a notch. “What do you mean?”

  The lump groans.

  “Listen, you have to get up and help me. There was a ping on your friend’s name in Uganda. We need to investigate.”

  “It’s like the color has drained out of everything, Shuri. I can’t get the music out of my head.”

  That certainly gets Shuri’s attention. “The music?”

  “From that place. I’ve been having these dreams about it. Those girls there … we’re all doomed. There’s no point.”

  Shuri gulps. “You … you just need some fresh air, is all,” she says. “Something to shift your focus—”

  “You’re going to leave,” K’Marah says.

  “What? No, I’m not—”

  “You are.” And K’Marah sits up.

  Shuri draws back. She’s never seen her friend look so … not put together. K’Marah’s braids have been removed, and her coily hair is dry and sticking straight up on one side. It’d be a funny sight if not for the deep-set bags beneath the young Dora’s eyes. Eyes that are quite red.

  “Your name was on that list, Shuri. Don’t you see? Your invitation will come just like Josephine’s did. And then you’ll be gone.”

  Shuri just blinks. It seems intensely foolish, but it hadn’t really clicked that her name on that list could really mean what K’Marah is suggesting.

  What if Shuri does receive an invitation to the Garden?

  At the lack of response, K’Marah reburies herself in her mound of blankets. “ ‘Investigate’ all you want,” she says. “Josephine isn’t coming back. And when it’s your turn, you won’t, either.”

  All Shuri can manage when Nakia returns to retrieve her: “K’Marah really is quite sick.” And the look on the princess’s face must send a message of its own because the senior-level Dora Milaje doesn’t ask a single question.

  Attempting to return to her studies is an exercise in futility, but Shuri can’t figure out what to do instead. Reaching out to Riri seems the most logical thing. Would probably be a good thing to prevent another disappearance while they have the chance …

  If they still have the chance. Maybe the invitation has already been extended and accepted. Would that mean Shuri’s is coming next?

  The princess isn’t sure she’s ever been so … conflicted.

  K’Marah was right about one thing: Now that Shuri is paying attention, she must admit that everything around her does seem duller. For instance, she can tell that it’s a bright, clear day outside. But the usual brilliance of the sky feels muted to the princess. The trees seem duller. The miners they pass, vaguely ashen. Or does Shuri only feel that way now because K’Marah said so?

  “Are you quite all right, Princess?” Nakia says as they approach the palace grounds. “Forgive my impropriety, but you look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Is K’Marah doing that poorly?”

  “Oh, umm … I’m sure she will be back to normal within a few days’ time.”

  Because Shuri can’t bring herself to voice what she really feels: fear that she’ll never see her “normal” best friend again.

  After dinner—and under the guise of further study—Shuri convinces T’Challa to grant her permission to return to her laboratory. Once there, the princess immerses herself in the one thing that never fails to keep her focused: experimenting. First she dismantles a pair of VR helmets she created so she can remove the comm systems from within them. Not that she has any intention of using the jumpsuits she and K’Marah wore into the Garden anytime soon, but if she were going to, the ability to communicate—especially while in Invisi-mode—would certainly come in handy.

  Once she has the ear and mouthpieces in place, she also decides to attach the latest CatEyez prototype to the headpiece she adds to the inside of the suits’ hoods.

  When those upgrades are finished, Shuri decides to try something she’s considered, but been afraid to do. Using the network information that saved to her Kimoyo card when she took that picture of the Garden’s layout, Shuri logs onto her desktop computer … and attempts to hack into the place.

  It’s locked down tighter than Wakanda’s vault of relics. Which contains a golf ball–size chunk of radioactive Vibranium said to be capable of leveling the continents of North and South America simultaneously.

  Without making a single sound.

  (“Why do we even have it?” Shuri remembers asking Baba when he told her about it. She was four years old and had just begun her own experiments with the mysterious celestial substance. He’d smiled down at her. “My dear, if you come up with any bright ideas for how to get rid of the thing, I will be all ears.”)

  When she’s unable to make any virtual headway, Shuri pores over the printed image of the layout itself. While the design of the place itself is nothing short of remarkable, examining the different sections does stir a bizarre combination of questions and longing for the princess. Like what exactly is in “the Hive” section at the Garden’s core? Could that be the structure’s power source? A control center for all the tech? Would there be a way to access all this from the outside?

  And speaking of “tech,” what must that section be like? She and K’Marah could see into the biology, chemistry, and astronomy wings as they passed them, but “technology” is housed behind the spa. It can be accessed by walking through the engineering wing, but the only other point of access is through the Hive.

  Though perhaps she can get there now. Because where one moment, Shuri is sitting in her lab, the next, she’s staring at a reflection of nothing.

  Another mirrored panel glides open behind her.

  “You have arrived. Please step out of the elevator,”
says a disembodied voice that makes the princess’s skin prickle.

  She slowly turns around. The hallway in front of her is now empty.

  “Please step out of the elevator.”

  “K’Marah?” Shuri whispers, though she has a hunch she doesn’t need to. “Are you here?”

  There’s no response.

  “Please step out—”

  “Fine, fine,” the princess hisses. “I’m going!”

  Once she hears the elevator door slip shut, she turns right, intending to head the way she and K’Marah didn’t go when they were last here. She can see to where the hallway banks left, but beyond that is hazy. Like the space is filled with fog.

  She proceeds forward cautiously. The music floats through the air, but is muffled. Like a pillow is being held over the speaker. As she approaches the bend, the fog thickens. Which, fine, would typically be a bit of a red flag. But right now, it’s like she can’t help but keep going.

  Shuri shuts her eyes just before stepping into it, and when she opens them—

  She’s back in Lady N’s hexagonal office, standing at the table K’Marah visited first. On that table is the list: Bright Futures. And on the list, just as before, is Shuri’s name.

  “Shuri?” a voice says, and her head snaps up, panic locking around her chest and squeeeeeeezing. She’s still very much alone in the office, but when she looks down at the list again, her name has begun to blur.

  “Shuri …” the voice comes again, more insistent. But the princess doesn’t look up this time. She’s too entranced by the slow disappearance of her name and something taking form in its place. Another name, she assumes. But she can’t quite make it out—

  “SHURI!”

  The princess jerks awake. Ayo is standing above her with a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, I think it’s time we get you home.”

  * * *

  Except after that dream, home doesn’t feel … right.

  Nothing does.

  All night, Shuri tosses and turns in the bed she usually cannot wait to dive into. Her quarters feel alternately too hot and too cold, and the palace itself is suddenly too large.