Nil (3 page)

But I kept the dagger, just in case.

Eventually the red rock gave way to wavy black, like asphalt that had been poured but never flattened. Cracks split the black like snakes, but other than the cracks, this rock was fairly smooth. Best of all, it didn’t shift under my feet.

Scrub brush popped up, dotting the black like dry tinder. As I passed an especially large thicket, a zebra peeked out.
Do zebras charge?
I wondered. Unsure about zebra aggression, I took a slow step backward.

I blinked and the zebra was gone.

Of course I’d hallucinate a zebra. Why couldn’t I dream up Robert Pattinson or, better yet, a river of Gatorade? My mouth felt as dry as the cracked ground under my borrowed sandals.

The flat black rock gave way to rocky black earth with strange trees, trees with gray skeletal trunks and crispy green leaves dripping off branches like rain that wouldn’t fall. Odd trees like skinny pines cropped up, and then I heard a familiar sound: the ocean—distant, but real. Before I could celebrate, the ground flashed like a mirror, and for one agonizing second, I thought it was a shimmer ready to rise. I was still conflicted as to whether the shimmers were good, or bad, or both.

Then I realized I was watching water. A pool of clear water, the size of a Ping-Pong table, nestled in the black rock. I scooped up a handful and smelled it. Fresh, or possibly brackish, the hint of brine could have been from the pool or blowing in from the sea. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I tried a sip. Cold and crisp, it tasted like heaven. I gulped handfuls until I was no longer thirsty. As I sat up, a blur of white glinted in the sky.

I ducked into the nearby thicket and pressed deep. Keeping completely still, I watched. To the east, two white-winged creatures soared high overhead, too far away to see. Other than the possibly imaginary zebra, these were the first creatures I’d seen. I spied legs—human legs—which totally creeped me out.

Bird men?

Where
was
I?

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, I knew. I was in the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.

I stood at the tree line, gaping at the view. There was the ocean, dappled in late-afternoon sunlight, rolling into a black sand beach tucked into a small bay. Black rocks sprouted near shore, glittering like dark crystal. On each side, black cliffs rose in the distance, covered with patches of green. Close to me, majestic palm trees swayed in the breeze.

It was the kind of awesome beauty I’d only seen on the Travel Channel, when I’d watched a show about private islands owned by people with more wealth than everyone but God.

Holy crap
, I thought, watching a towering wave roll and break.
I’m totally lost
.

I took another step, and my toe hit something hard. My sandal caught and stuck. I looked down, and when I realized what I’d kicked, I screamed.

It was a human skull.

CHAPTER

4

THAD

DAY 267, LATE AFTERNOON

What a waste of a day.

Despite three solid flyovers, we saw nothing.
Make that nothing good
, I thought, remembering the black rhino foraging near the groves. Another two tons of fresh Nil fun, complete with a built-in deadly weapon. Lucky us.

Right.

I dreaded the look on Nat’s face when we came back empty-handed.

Shutting down that visual, I focused on the wind. In the first stroke of good luck today, the afternoon gusts blasted onshore, giving us the brakes we needed. Right now I’d take any advantage Nil offered. My arms were spent, and my eyes felt gritty. I was done, and if I had to guess, so was Jason.

Our landing site stretched less than half a kilometer ahead, sprawled between twin fissures of black.
Aim straight, drop nose, hold steady.

Slowing in the headwind, we glided over the rocks about seven meters off the ground. Jason cruised ahead of me. Landing was its own little rush, not quite like takeoff, but close.

Then I heard it: a snap; it echoed through the air like a firecracker. A half second later, Jason’s glider dipped erratically and nearly pitched him off.

“Jason!” I shouted. “Shift your weight!”

Jason slid right, switched his grip, and landed like a seasoned pro, even though he was only thirteen. And thanks to his cool head, he still had a chance to see fourteen.

I landed a wingspan away, my adrenaline pumping like I was still fifteen meters high.

“You okay?” I called.

“Yeah. Support rod broke.” He held up his glider. One side bar dangled limply, like a broken arm.

As I stared at the wounded flyer, I had the weirdest sense that the break was a message from Nil. A not-so-subtle reminder of how close death really was—like we could forget. After all, the support cracked high enough to scare, but not high enough to kill. First the dead bird, now a broken glider.

Message received
, I thought grimly. Nothing like a little Nil overkill.

We hiked back, hauling the crippled glider, knowing Natalie was waiting. Unfortunately, Bart found us first. He ambushed us as we approached the Shack.

“Thad,” he started, his nasal whine sending my annoyance level off the charts, “we need to talk. I haven’t been on Search in almost a month. Twenty-nine days.”

“Hello, Bart,” I said, peeling off my fly rig. “No, we didn’t find Kevin. Or his clothes. But thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” he said. His eyes flicked over Jason before circling back to me. “But I’m due, Thad, you know I am. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair,” I repeated, working to keep my voice level. “Really?” Sarcasm seeped in, and then for the first time since Kevin bolted, I lost it. “In case you haven’t noticed, nothing about Nil is
fair
. It’s not
fair
that you landed here. It’s not fair that leaving is a crapshoot and that every damn day brings you closer to death. And it’s definitely not
fair
that our past Leader, who spent months working her butt off for everyone else, is sitting by the fire, wondering if her boyfriend is dead, terrified she might never find out.”

Bart sputtered, waffling between agreement and protest, neither of which I wanted to hear.
Why am I wasting my time?
I wondered.

I held up my hand. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But that’s how it is. I don’t pick the teams. So if you want someone to pick you, I’d suggest you pull your weight and then some.” I looked evenly at Bart. “And hey, if you don’t like the City rules, you can always leave.”

Bart paled. “Fine.” He turned, then spun back. “You know, losing the knife was an accident. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was.” Talla stepped out from the Shack, her blond hair tied in a hard knot. “You didn’t secure it. And you lost it. Your fault.”

“Of course you take his side. Everyone knows you’re after his job. Or maybe you’re just after him.” Bart smirked.

Talla nearly snarled. “All I want is to get home. The sooner the better. Isn’t that what
you
want?”

“Enough,” I snapped. I was too drained from sweeps to handle much more. “Drop it, both of you. I need to talk to Natalie.”

“Too late,” Talla said. She pointed to the fire, where Jason stood beside Natalie, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her head hung in defeat.

God, I hated this place.

CHAPTER

5

CHARLEY

DAY 5, LATE AFTERNOON

I should have been a Girl Scout. Or a ninja. Or better yet a Girl Scout ninja with a black belt in self-defense.

That was my latest epiphany as another juicy fish darted past my outstretched fingers. I could forage through the local Kroger and cook up a mean feast of shrimp and grits, but I’d never caught a shrimp or ground a grit in my life. I’d never fished, camped, identified edible plants, or learned how to start a fire without matches. And I sure as heck had never taken karate.

Volleyball camp suddenly seemed lame.

Exhausted, I flopped down on the sand. This morning I’d collected bamboo and palm fronds to craft a shelter at the tree line, something to give me much-needed shade from the midday sun. I’d remembered my geometry teacher rambling on about triangles being the strongest shape in nature, and it turned out he was right. Using bamboo as scaffolding and fronds as coverage, construction had taken most of the day, but the result was pretty awesome, not that there was anyone to see it. The effort had turned my arms to jelly. I was bone tired, and I was hungry. And I was still totally freaking out.

The last five days had been the longest of my life.

I didn’t know where I was or how to get home. I’d seen no ships, no planes, and most disturbing of all, no people.
At least none alive
, I corrected myself reluctantly. The human skull was never far from my thoughts. A bleached-white skull, half buried in dirt, with my sandal wedged in the empty eye socket. I’d yanked my foot out and run away, and I hadn’t gone near it since.

What happened to the dead-skull person? Did he starve to death? Was he killed? If so, by what?
None of these thoughts brought me to a happy place, but then again, right now nothing did. It was like I’d fallen into my own personal
Twilight Zone
episode, and I had no clue how to get out. It had everything to do with that shimmer; I knew it. But I hadn’t seen any shimmers since the red rock field. And believe me, I’d been looking.

At least I’d found food. Strange green fruits hung on trees to the north. I’d watched a bird eat one, so I figured it wouldn’t kill me. I’d picked and peeled two. Although they were as sour as lemons, I’d devoured the green fruit anyway, eating everything but the rind.

Rounding out my all-fruit diet were pineapples and coconuts. Using my rock dagger, I could mutilate a pineapple in a quick minute, but the coconuts were tougher. I’d pierce the shell, tip back the fruit, and chug the milk like I was swigging a Sprite, then after drinking it dry, I’d bang the husk against a rock. But so far every single coconut had refused to break, and I’d been through at least eight. Not even my rock dagger could crack one, and shards of that stuff could slash through almost anything, including my heel, which was still tender and swollen. Soaking my foot in the ocean seemed to be helping, but each time I sat in the sea, fish teased me mercilessly, flaunting their edible selves.

I really wanted fish, even if it meant eating sushi. Unable to capture a fish by hand—I mean, who does that?—I made a spear using materials left over from my shelter project. Okay, less a spear, more like a bamboo rod with a sharp rock tied to the end with a green palm frond strip. I figured maybe I could whack a fish.

But like cracking coconuts, spearfishing with a crappy, homemade spear proved impossible. Maybe it was my spear, maybe it was my poor technique. It didn’t matter; the result was the same: no fish.

Frustrated, I picked up my worthless spear and chucked it into the sea. The spear flew over the water, skipped once, then sank.
Super
, I thought, instantly regretting my impulsive throw. If I didn’t find some decent food, I’d disappear, too.

Leaving the water, I wandered south.
Maybe I’ll find a nut tree
, I thought optimistically. Then I prayed I’d know an edible nut if I saw one.

I passed the thick stand of bamboo, then the grove of palms, but desperate for more than coconut milk, I kept going, venturing farther south than ever. The vegetation thinned as the bay curved toward the sea, ending at a stern cliff. Black and massive, the cliff was bare rock. Near the base, a small bush with glossy green leaves grew alone. Tucked inside the leaves were bumpy yellow fruits.

More fruit
, I thought without enthusiasm, but at least this fruit offered variety. The bush looked healthy, the warty fruit less so, and as I went to pluck a yellow fruit, the unmistakable stench of vomit hit me in the face. Gagging, I stumbled away, working not to retch.

Leaving the stinky plant, I climbed. The cliff was riddled with openings, perfect for hands and feet. I fell into an easy rhythm, and after turning the bend, I found myself inside a series of massive rock arches.

The view was stunning.

Blue sky filled the openings, perfectly framed in black. Below me, water hissed and spit against rocks, churning white on black. I turned in a slow circle, and something caught my eye. Something smooth in a wash of crags.

The largest arch, still a volleyball court’s distance away, boasted a large flat spot at eye level. No, not flat, at least not totally. Fissures graced the rock face, too uniform to be natural.

Intrigued, I hiked closer. A carving decorated the rock face: a maze, etched in a perfect circle, with a human figure in the very center.
Like a primitive cave drawing
, I thought. But the longer I studied the carving, the more I realized the maze was too symmetrical to be primitive; it was more like one of those freaky designs that pop up on cornfields overnight. But that wasn’t right either. Given the level of detail, this glyph was no overnight sensation. The human figure at the epicenter suggested the carver was human, or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe. What I
needed
to believe. Despite my gruesome skull discovery, I hadn’t shaken my alien planet worry.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, tracing the rings and trying to discern meaning from their existence. Long enough for my legs to cramp. Long enough for my stomach to rebel. Long enough for the air to turn cool.

The chill snapped my reverie. Looking up, I saw that the sun had dropped, and I couldn’t scramble away fast enough. I didn’t want to be caught out here at night.

Leaving the rock arches took longer than I expected. My original pathways were blocked by the tide, forcing me higher to avoid being crushed against the rocks by churning water. By the time I made it back to my hideout, I was shaking and sweating. And I was
starving
.