Heart of the Storm

by Michael Buckley

  “What does ‘freak out’ mean?” he wonders.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” I say.

  He stares at me for a long time. I automatically start to find another human word to explain, then realize there’s a good one in Triton. I manage to say it despite being on the surface. He seems surprised by the news and my tongue.

  “At the camp,” he whispers.

  I nod. “How do you feel about this?”

  It’s his turn to nod.

  “Okay, I’m hoping for a little more acknowledgment than a head bob. Maybe something more like a genuine emotion—​happiness, anxiety, anger? Are you crapping your pants? Just tell me. I’m ready.”

  “We will marry,” he says.

  I’m not ready for that. “Fathom, no.”

  “But we love each other.”

  I’m speechless. It’s not what he said, exactly. I know he loves me. It’s more how he says it that takes me aback. This is all predetermined to him. Of course we’ll get married. We’ll defy the odds. Our love is star-crossed. It can’t be stopped. Happily ever after is right there for the taking.

  “I pick me,” I say.

  He’s confused again. This time, I take his hands in mine.

  “I had a choice to make,” I say. He doesn’t need to know he’s been one corner of a love triangle. He doesn’t need to know that I was flipping Riley and him over in my head, trying to see them from every side, so I could decide which one to buy. He doesn’t need to know that Riley helped me understand something that right now makes sense. “And I picked me.”

  I tell him that I love him and that I probably always will, and then I tell him all the reasons why it’s not a good enough reason for us to be together. He doesn’t argue or try to manipulate me. He doesn’t go on and on about how if we want it, we can have it. He just sits and listens. For the first time since he came into my life, he is exactly what I need him to be.

  The cages are opened, and the Alpha who can walk gather on the beach, close to the shoreline. Some sit in the waves, too tired to move, or maybe it’s some desire to be close to the sea. Soldiers move through their numbers, disconnecting the hobblers. Fights break out. A soldier’s leg is broken.

  Those who can’t walk are carried to a medical tent by soldiers, some of whom have played a part in their suffering. The victims refuse to let doctors see them. Some attack the nurses who offer ice packs. It’s a complete mess.

  “This is a waste of time,” my mother tells me. “Alpha do not accept medicine or medical care.”

  “They’re going to have to change,” I say.

  “You’re going to have to tell them.”

  I have feared this moment since we arrived. None of the Alpha know I’m prime, other than Flyer and Arcade, and it’s not going to go over very well. I’ve had visions of Selkies charging at me, challenging me for my title. I’ve worried that all three thousand of these creatures will rise up to tear me apart.

  “I suppose you should stand on something when you speak to them,” Bex says as she scans the beach for a proper setting.

  “Yes, it’s important to get me up high so everyone will have a better target.”

  My mother and father approach, with Johar close behind. Bex explains the plan to them.

  “Are you ready for this?” my mother asks.

  “Nope. Does it matter?”

  “What are you going to tell them?” my father says.

  “How it is,” Bex crows.

  Johar, despite his creepy worldview, is incredibly helpful. He has a small stage constructed for me to stand on, then sets up a microphone and a sound system. One of the men helps me on top, and once I’m up there, I look out at the gathering. There are a few thousand Alpha watching me. White Tower guards and soldiers alike are looking on as well. My kids and Bex sit up front. Fathom, Arcade, Flyer, and his father, Braken, join them, as well as Ghost. But there is little intermingling. The Nix sit with the Nix, the Selkies are with the Selkies, Triton with Triton. All the groups carefully gathering with faces that look like their own.

  I raise my hand to speak, but the crowd ignores me. I try again, but it’s no good. No one respects me, for a myriad of reasons. If you’re a soldier, I’m just a kid. If you’re a White Tower guard, I’m a dangerous terrorist. If you’re an Alpha, I am a filthy human.

  Bex smiles at me and mouths, “You’re the boss.” It’s as good a place as any to start.

  “I killed Minerva!” I shout. The words bounce off the waves and come back at me. There’s a feedback loop that whines so loud it’s shaking the fillings in my back teeth. But I have their attention. Fathom stares up at me in disbelief.

  “What did you say, human?” Arcade shouts. She sounds aggressive, but she’s trying to help. Her people respect strength, and she’s lending me some of hers.

  “I said I killed Minerva.”

  I don’t have to wait long. The crowd breaks into a rumbling chatter that rises and rises, until it threatens to turn into chaos. I raise my hand again. “I fought her inside the Great Abyss. She’s dead, and I have claimed her title as mine. I am the prime.”

  “You lie!” a Selkie shouts at me. He stands as if he’s preparing to attack. Arcade notices and steps in his way.

  “I lived in the hunting grounds for three months. I saw your temples and art. I saw your homes. I was imprisoned in Tarooh’s lab, the very person who gave the Alpha the power to build its city.”

  The arguing explodes. I wait patiently, hoping they will quiet down and let me speak, but they are enraged. They shout and bark at me. Before I would have shrunk at all the noise, but now I know their language. I know what ugly words they’re shouting at me. My calls for attention are ignored.

  Their noise is suddenly suffocated by a thrum. It sweeps across the beach and covers the crowd like a blanket. After all this time, it still startles me, even though I know it’s a sound I can trust. The crowd turns to see Husk and the Rusalka rise out of the surf. They walk through the crowd of screaming Alpha, all shouting threats at them. Even the soldiers spring into action, cocking weapons, but Johar hops onto the stage and demands they stand down. They don’t lower their weapons, but they don’t fire them either.

  Husk stops in front of me and bends his knee. The others do the same.

  “Your Majesty,” he says.

  The crowd roars at him. They call him an agitator and a traitor. He is a mutant and devil and a heretic. He and his people are obscene.

  “The abomination returns,” a Ceto shouts. “You and your cowardly bottom feeders come to fight when we are at our weakest. There is no honor in a thing like you.”

  Husk waits patiently before he speaks again.

  “I witnessed the challenge. Minerva fought Lyric Walker with her bare hands. It was a foolish choice, and on that day the Daughter of Human and Sirena was the stronger of the two. I have witnessed her bravery. I have seen the warrior inside of her. She has my respect. She has the respect of the Sons and Daughters of Rusalka. We have pledged our loyalty to her and her vision of the Alpha empire.

  A Nix stands. “I will not follow a human, even one that has Alpha blood! She is not of our people.”

  A Triton woman pushes her way toward the front of the crowd. “I will not bow down to the former prince’s harlot.”

  I jump down off the box and land in front of her. She’s surprised. I want to keep her that way.

  “Say it again!” I shout so everyone can hear. “Say it to my face!”

  She releases her blades, and the crowd grows quiet.

  “Are you presenting a challenge?” I ask, fighting down my fear.

  The Triton girl’s eyes narrow. “I am.”

  “Step back,” Fathom says, rising to his feet. He places himself between the Triton and me. “Ancient law allows for another to fight in her place. I will fight for her.”

  Arcade steps forward and releases the blade in her good arm. “I will fight for her.”

  My mother stands and walks through the crowd. �
�I will fight for her.”

  Dahlia the Rusalka grunts and flashes her talons. She will fight for me.

  Chloe joins the growing list, her glove ignited and burning bright. Riley, Maggie, and all the children join her.

  My father is next. “I will fight for her.”

  Flyer, Braken, even Ghost stand with me, all pledging to defend me.

  Johar takes the mic off the stand and hands it down to me.

  “These are your rules,” I say to the Triton girl. “The person who kills the prime becomes the prime. I’m in charge, so go find your seat before I put you in it.”

  The Triton girl snarls, but she’s no dummy. She backs away to her original spot in the crowd.

  “Anyone else want to come up here and get embarrassed?” I ask, looking out at the crowd. I don’t see any takers. It’s good, because as tough as I sound, I’m pretty sure I’m going to wet my pants. “So, listen up because this is what is happening. We’re going to war. Husk will explain. He’s going to be my adviser.”

  “Adviser?” a Feige cries. “Rusalka are untouchable. They cannot council the prime.”

  “Oh, really? Well, I’m the prime, and I say they can,” I shout. “No one is untouchable in my empire. None of you is superior to any other. None of you are better. You are equals.”

  “It has never been done!” someone shouts.

  “You can cry about it later, if you survive, because if you can’t put your stupid rules aside, you won’t. That’s right. Something in the water is coming to kill us, all of us, human and Alpha alike. It isn’t picking sides. It hates us all the same. They’re called the Tardigrade, and they will be here tomorrow. I need you to prepare.”

  Johar shouts to the crowd. “We have a team of nurses from the Red Cross coming to look at your injuries—”

  The crowd erupts in anger again.

  “I need all of you healthy,” I cry. “Being hurt and sick on purpose is stupid. You’ll be killed first, and trust me, you don’t want to die the way a Tardigrade kills you. Are you really going to let yourself be killed because you are too tough for a Band-Aid?”

  Husk’s voice is in my head. He wants me to use the word dishonorable.

  “It is dishonorable,” I shout. “If you can be strong and fierce but choose to limp into a fight, you turn your back on your empire. So, here’s another new rule to add to your list. You are going to let the nurses and doctors help you feel better, or you will be labeled a traitor.”

  The crowd is silent.

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and if we’re to have any chance of success, you’re going to have to work together with the humans, and before you start whining about it, I’m—”

  Before I can finish, my attention is stolen by a crowd of people trickling onto the beach. They are armed with guns and bats and machetes. They are tentative when they see the Alpha, and their presence causes another angry stir. I look to Johar, and he gives me a nod. The president delivered again. The fence is down. My army, for what they’re worth, has joined the fight.

  “Welcome to the party,” I say to them as more and more people gather to watch. “I’m telling my friends here that we have to fight together. We have to look after one another. This is about the end of the world, and we have to put aside our hate and fear of one another. If we can’t learn to stand together by tomorrow, we’ll all be lying together dead.”

  Alpha and humans stare at one another. Their eyes are full of suspicion, but at least they are not attacking.

  “All right. I think I’ve said enough. We’ve got work to do.”

  I turn and see Riley. For the first time in days, he doesn’t tear his eyes away from me.

  “So that went well,” I groan.

  He laughs despite himself. “Next time let me write your speech.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  DESPITE MY ORDERS, THE ALPHA FIGHT WITH THE medical staff. A few of the arguments turn violent. My rule isn’t going to change things overnight. Their wounds are their trophies, and they are desperately proud of them. The ones they have now show the world that they could not be broken, even when caged and starved for three months. I sympathize, but they’re just going to have to tell stories about this day rather than show off their wounds around a campfire.

  They resist the food as well, though this I understand. Suddenly, I’m asking them to trust that there are people interested in their well-being, when they are the same people who have been abusing them for months. In desperation, I ask Finn and the other children to use their gloves to pull fresh fish out of the ocean for the Alpha to eat. God help them. The water in Coney Island is full of garbage, even more so after two tidal waves destroyed everything and dragged it out to sea. Some of the fish might very well have three eyes. It’s just another layer of worry to add to my growing teenage ulcer.

  “They’re eating,” Husk says. “That’s all that matters. It will make them strong again.”

  “It doesn’t mean they’ll fight.”

  “There is still time to persuade them,” Husk promises.

  “Time is something we are running out of,” I say.

  We both feel the Tardigrade out there, approaching fast. It’s hard to say when they will come onshore, but it’s almost certain to be too soon.

  I’m heartened to meet a few Alpha who are strong and willing to train groups of humans in hand-to-hand combat. Unfortunately, many of the people have come here from far away, and they are nearly as exhausted as the Alpha. Riley and the kids help, coaching people in the techniques Doyle taught them at Trident. I watch with hidden pessimism. Hand-to-hand combat is not going to stop a Tardigrade. Luckily, someone higher up, maybe Mr. Johar himself, realizes it’s pointless, and as the sun begins to set, a line of trucks arrive, delivering hand grenades and rocket launchers. I hear a rumor that more tanks will be here by morning.

  Bulldozers push massive mounds of sand together, some two and three stories high. On top of each one is a soldier assembling a giant gun. There must be fifty mounds. The closest to me is already finished with an artilleryman working on his assembly. When it’s finished, he stands and peers out at the ocean through binoculars.

  When the sun has finally given up on this day, I find a spot on the beach and watch the activity around me. I’m approached every few minutes with questions and concerns. I’ve found that it’s better to pretend like I know what I’m doing than admit that I have no idea. For the most part, the soldiers are listening to someone else, and they don’t bother me. The Alpha line up behind Fathom and Flyer, but the humans wander around without a clue. They’re not fighters, and three of them have accidentally shot themselves in the foot. I suspect a majority of them have never even been in a fistfight, but there are some who are starting to stand out—​the survivalists and militia members and paranoid people who have been living off the grid. They know how to shoot rifles and build camps and fires. They build “tiger pits” on the beach—​deep holes lined with wooden spikes they cover with leaves. It’s as good an idea as any.

  “So you’re the kid running this show?” an older woman asks me. She’s in a black T-shirt with long gray hair tied in a ponytail. She’s got an AK-47 strapped onto her back. I can see she’s not taking me seriously, but then she shrugs. “My sons and I pushed a wheelbarrow of ammo all the way from Paramus. Where do you want us to put it?”

  My father works with some of the White Tower guards to create a perimeter. He feels the Alpha should be in front, assuming they are healthy enough, followed by the soldiers and guards. Humans, everyone agrees, should guard the rear. Hopefully, the Tardigrade will never get to them, but if they do, they’ll have to fight.

  “The surface is theirs,” my mother says. “It’s only right that they are the last stand.”

  Arcade and Flyer approach.

  “May we join you, Your Majesty?” Arcade asks.

  I groan. “How do I get you guys to just call me by my name?”

  “I don’t understand?” Flyer admits.

  �
��How is your father?” I ask him. I’ve met Braken a handful of times. He was the prime’s brother, but the reasonable and mature one of the two. Sadly, he was one of the worst injured we found in the cages.

  “He is tired,” Flyer responds. “The nurses have sewn some of his wounds together with a string. He is unconscious, so he has not been able to stop them. I would think they might consider themselves lucky.”

  “I fear more for your hybrids, Lyric Walker.”

  I look back to the children. Arcade’s right. All of them have been quiet, except Riley, who is putting on a brave face.

  “I hear that the demon in the rolling chair killed their families and friends,” Arcade hisses. “Cowardly and dishonorable filth. If she shows her face here, I will slice it right off.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” I say. “One of the promises that was made to me before we started this fight was that Pauline Bachman would get what she deserves.”

  “The loss of parents in such a tragic way is a terrible thing to deal with before a battle,” Flyer says. “I fear they have lost the fight Arcade tells me they once possessed.”

  I can see Chloe leaning her head on Brady’s shoulder. They aren’t speaking to each other. They just stare out at the sea like they are castaways, lost and forgotten.

  “The humans have the passion, but they are fearful and dumb,” Arcade says. “And my people are broken. Do you have a plan you are not discussing with the rest of us that ensures success?”

  My head falls between my knees. “No. I don’t have a plan. There isn’t a plan for something like this. We’re going to get ready. When the time comes, we will fight. It’s the only choice we have.”

  “Many will die,” Arcade says.

  “I know. I know.”

  “You lack confidence in those assembled before you?” Flyer asks.

  “I’ve got fighters who can’t fight and regular people who don’t know how.”

  “For most, it is the loss of everything that teaches us to fight,” Flyer says as he looks to Arcade.

  “When the battle begins, the warriors emerge,” Arcade promises. “Perhaps your news might light a fire in their bellies.”