Nil (38 page)

Because even though he’d promised he wouldn’t leave me, it felt like he already had.

CHAPTER

61

THAD

DAY 364, NIGHT

I’m going to die tomorrow.

A pervasive sense of calm accompanied that thought. Each minute marched on, counting down toward one inevitable conclusion: death.

The writing was on the Wall.

Did the inevitability of death trigger the calm
? I wondered. Did everyone staring down the barrel of a gun feel peace in that moment? Or did the surreal calm stem from acceptance of one’s fate? I’d finally given up trying to control something I couldn’t. My fate was out of my hands, and giving up had never felt so good.

Tucked tight to my side, Charley fit perfectly, like a natural extension of me. I studied her profile, etching it in my memory. Eyes closed, lashes dark, one hand hiding under her cheek; the other resting gently on my chest.

I knew she was finally asleep. She’d faked it for a while; we both had. Words were too painful. We’d said good-bye over and over, and at this point, there was nothing left to say. The reality sucked; it was what it was. The truth was ugly. Like Nil.

I have one noon.

One shot.

One last roll of the dice.

It was the ultimate Nil game. For 365 days, we took our chances, racing toward noon, standing in open Nil air, hoping for lightning to strike. Some were lucky, like Natalie and Kevin. Others rolled the dice over and over, but never won, like Ramia and Li. And some, like Rory, barely got to play.

And then there was today. The inbound had dropped a bear bomb, screwing up my roll and changing the game. Changing the moment and ruining my chance.

Maybe my last chance.

Definitely my best chance.

Our fates were left to chance, but it was Nil who ran the tables. Even with Charley’s charts, the deck was stacked in Nil’s favor. It was her show, her rules. One gate. One person. One noon. One year.

And like I’d known since Day One, her rules sucked.

But for the first time, I finally understood them. Today’s message was loud and clear.

I held Charley against me, knowing that tomorrow I’d go all in. I’d step up, and with everything I had on the table, I’d roll the noon dice one last time. And this time, I’d be ready. Ready to run, ready to die. Whatever hand Nil dealt, I was braced to face it on my terms. All I hoped for now was the chance to win.

Focus the breath, focus the mind.
This time—for the first time—my coach’s new-age breathing tip worked. My mind was clear.

Because this time I focused on Charley’s breathing, not mine.

Breathe.

CHAPTER

62

CHARLEY

DAY 99, MORNING

I opened my eyes and squinted. Light streaked above the treetops. Thad was propped on his side, looking at me.

“Morning, sleepy.” He smiled.

“I can’t believe I slept.” I was so mad at myself I scowled.

“Running from a grizzly will do that to you.” His grin widened.

“But I lost time with you! Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I like watching you sleep. You’re so beautiful, Charley.” Thad’s voice was ragged. His eyes traveled my face, eyes heavy with exhaustion, with sadness, and with defeat. And it scared me. He hadn’t slept. Not enough, maybe not at all.

“You didn’t sleep,” I said. “You needed to sleep.” I bit my lip, refusing to cry.

Thad just smiled. With one finger, he traced my eyebrows, my cheekbones, my jaw. I closed my eyes, feeling his finger drift to my collarbone. It was the sweetest caress, and yet it hurt, touching an ache so deep I thought I might break.

His finger drifted lower, making me shiver.

“Where’s Rives?” I asked, remembering we weren’t alone.

“Giving us some space.”

Their secret conversation from yesterday roared back. I bit my lip again, harder this time.

“I want to spend my last hours with you,” Thad whispered. “Just you.”

“Not your last hours,” I corrected. “Your last hours
here
.”

“Right.”

I stared at him. “Don’t you dare give up on me,” I said fiercely, holding his gaze.

“I would never give up on you.” His blue eyes were so raw that it hurt. “Never.”

“Not on me,” I corrected. “On you. On yourself.”

“Charley.” Emotions flickered across his face like the iridescent colors of a shimmer, too many at once, shifting too quickly to read. “I’m just being realistic.”

The bear
, I thought. Yesterday had changed everything; I knew it.
I don’t want her to bury me,
he’d said.

“No,” I said sharply. “Don’t do this. Don’t give up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He leaned forward and kissed my bottom lip, the one I’d been biting. “So,” he said, cocking one eyebrow and smiling devilishly, “I’ve got an idea of how we can pass the time this morning. Something you asked for, and I said no.”

“You want to fool around?” I asked, incredulous. “But—” I tried to make sense of his sudden change of mind.

And then he changed his mind again.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. We can’t. It’s selfish of me. It’s just—” He broke off. “I shouldn’t have said anything. No brain-to-mouth filter today.” He grinned wryly, but a shadow lurked in his eyes, darkening the blue. Something I couldn’t read, but wanted to.

Slowly, I reached up and traced his scar, the tiny mountain over his eyebrow. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said softly. “Please.”

He closed his eyes. “Charley.” His voice broke. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. About why I’m here.”

A roar cut the air, too close for comfort. Thad’s eyes flew open, and he scanned the area around us.

“Mad grizzly,” I said, taking a heavy breath.

“Yup,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let’s pack and roll.” Clearly the time for talk was over.

I just nodded. Hope wasn’t strong enough, and my prayers for a gate were already sent.

There wasn’t much to pack. All we had left to eat was some dried fruit. I wanted to keep talking, but I wouldn’t press, not today.

As we hiked inland, Rives was our shadow. A silent follower, lagging far enough behind that it felt like just me and Thad, but Rives never lost us, and we never lost him. I knew without asking that Thad wanted me to have company on the return trip.

I didn’t share that I’d already planned it out. I’d take Thad’s eight-inch blade, the one he wore on his belt. He wouldn’t take it with him. I’d also take his necklace and wear it with mine. I already had his bow, the one he used to make fire. I knew how to work it, sawing until my hands grew tired and an ember glowed, and I knew to use coconut husks as tinder, the drier the better. I’d learned so much from Thad, skills I’d use to survive until it was my turn. And I’d head back with Rives, taking a different route, using my maps to avoid the grizzly. These were my secrets, the plans I didn’t share with Thad.

His secrets, my secrets. Island secrets. They formed an invisible gulf between us, and I hated it.

“We’re almost there,” Thad said. His first words in an hour—they sounded forced.

Our feet touched black rock. Red blazed to the right. We’d decided last night to head to the newer lava fields, the ones I’d found my first day on Nil. Two different flows, two different times. One red, one black, straddling Quadrants Two and Three. Using yesterday’s gate as a reference, we’d headed north, putting us in position for today.

At the junction of the two fields, we paused.

“Red or black?” I asked. It was Thad’s call, and it was time.

“I’m betting on black,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. “A little Russian roulette, Nil style.”

“That’s not funny,” I said. “It’s not a game.”

Thad’s jaw ticked. “Right.”

“You’ll make it. You have to. Don’t you dare give up.” My voice dropped two octaves and my eyes stung. “Do. Not. Quit. Okay?”

He smiled, his eyes burning like blue fire, then he kissed me. Fierce but gentle, his kiss was so full of raw emotion that I almost cried right then. But I didn’t. We had a gate to catch.

“We have to move,” I said, pulling back. “The gate will come from the south, so let’s stay close to the red.” I pointed, reviewing the charts in my head.

Yesterday’s gate had been southwest of where we were now but still fairly close, latitudinally speaking. Gates could flash close two days in a row; my quad and Kevin’s outbound showed me that—same for the pair by Black Bay. Thinking of those gates, I thought of something. Something terrible.

I grabbed Thad’s arm.

“Thad, we have to go back! Back to the beach! Remember how Kevin’s gate and my quad came one day apart? The gates were both in the red field. And Jason’s miss at Black Bay came one day after I saw a gate
on that same beach
. What if when gates flash one day apart, they flash along the same longitudinal line? In the same quadrant? Maybe that’s what the number two represents! And if I’m right, then today’s gate will be back on South Beach, not here! We don’t have much time. We’ve—”

“Stop.” Thad placed a finger over my lips. “Stop,” he whispered. “We went over this last night. We took our time, we thought it through. We picked a latitude north of yesterday’s gate, in the next quadrant on the storm track. And we picked the two most likely hot spots. The most open and the most overdue. That’s here.” Brushing my cheek with his thumb, Thad looked at me, his eyes full of assurance and love and everything else that made him Thad. “Let’s stick with our game plan.”

“You’re right,” I said, shaken. “I’m just—no, you’re right. Let’s stick with our plan.”
But it’s not a game
.

It never was.

Thad held out his hand, and together we entered the sea of black. Even with Thad’s reassurance, part of me wanted to turn and run, to make us fly back toward the beach. But I kept walking, holding Thad’s hand.

The charcoal ground was as black as asphalt, as black as the Target parking lot that felt a million miles away. A different world, a different me.

We swept the ground for movement. I barely breathed; noon was
now
.

Then the wind stalled.

Fifty yards out, the black ground wavered. Then the black rose and fell away, leaving a rippling luminescence, stretching high and glittering with life.

“Gate at three o’clock,” I cried. “Go!”

Thad stood frozen. He stared at me, not the gate.

“Go!” I screamed, giving him a shake. “Run!”

“Sprint with me, Charley.” Thad held out his hand. “One last time. Please.” His voice broke.

Taking his hand, I ran—anything to make him move. We flew over the black ground, our strides in sync, running together for the last time. The gate writhed ten feet away, drifting north.

Soon we were close enough to see the sparkling prisms of light reflecting the sky, the ground, us. In the reflection, we were distorted silhouettes, and in that moment I knew.

Thad would live.

All my perfect words were trapped in my head, my good-bye lost in the moment. All that mattered was that
Thad would live
. I squeezed his hand and stepped away.

“Charley, I—” Thad’s face was tortured, and as he raised his hand, the gate collapsed. For one long, horrible second, a tiny black hole hovered inches behind Thad’s shoulder. Then the black speck winked out completely.

Thad’s gate was gone. The wind was back.

And Thad was still here.

I gasped in horror, half expecting him to fall dead at any second. But he stood there, looking stunned and very much alive. Our eyes locked in mutual shock.

Then the air went slack.

I sensed the stillness, even before I saw the glimmer. Behind Thad, a gate stretched languidly into the sky, eight feet away, at most. It was a second chance—a final chance, and this time Thad’s escape was guaranteed. The gate drifted toward us; he didn’t even need to run. It was meant to be, like us. Thad’s luck had finally turned, and Nil was giving us the chance to say a proper island good-bye.

I threw myself into Thad’s arms, overcome by a profound sense of peace. “I love you. So much.”

Thad held me close, not saying a word.

“I’ll tell the zebra you said hi,” I whispered into his shoulder. Then I pulled away, still holding his hands. “And I’ll look out for Burton. Go.”

The gate floated three feet away.

“Charley.” Thad’s voice cracked. He swallowed and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ve got time. I’ll find you. I love you, Thaddeus Blake. Now go.”

Emotion swirled so thick in his eyes that it spilled out the edges.

“Go,” I whispered, feeling renewed urgency. The gate hovered footsteps away, so close we were reflected as one. “It’s your time. See you on the other side.” My chest tightened with the coming loss, but the ache felt good. “I love you.” Then I smiled, because this was it.

This was our good-bye.

The leading edge of the gate threw rainbows of color onto Thad’s face; his eyes had never looked more brilliantly blue. “I love you, too.” His voice was choked. “More than anything.”

And then Thad did the unthinkable.

He lurched forward, grabbed my upper arms, and threw me backward into the gate. I twisted as I fell, trying to catch my balance and get out, already feeling the blistering heat.

“
No!
” The scream tore from my throat, but I choked on the heat. Boiling air wrapped around me like invisible sludge, pulling me deeper and trapping me inside.

I was burning, in hellfire.

Darkness licked the corners of my eyes. Nil flickered and blurred, then began to shrink, like I was peering through the wrong end of a kaleidoscope. My last clear vision was Thad, contorting as he spun to the side, his eyes locked on me.

“I’ll find you, Charley!” he shouted, his voice cracking and fading. “I promise! I—”

Darkness closed in like the lid of a coffin; the blackness turned absolute. The heat vanished, and the blackness became ice, forcing its way into my soul and tearing it apart.