Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (23 page)

“How ’bout a story?” I ask. I need my brain to seriously zone out.

Ethan stretches his hands behind his head. “Sure. What have you got?”

I’m back on the mountain, after the accident, telling stories to my brothers to soothe all of our nerves. It’s easy to slip into that space, with my thoughts as jumbled as they are, and it doesn’t take long for me to begin.

“Once upon a time there were two amazing kids named Olivia Williams and Ethan Stone. Thunder had already guided them to where they needed to be, but they felt alone in a great expanse of unknown. They were aware their greatest challenges lay ahead, and the moving forward began to feel difficult. Night settled over the land while the two tried not to quake with weariness and dread. Then the wind began to whisper and the air began to shift. There was a change in the current, and it brought hope. The two felt refreshed and secure in the knowledge that the darker the night, the brighter the light. And in this knowledge, their light gleamed more brightly still until it was as if the sun shone in the sky. And they rested easy and awoke in peace, ready to continue on their way. And they knew they were not alone.”

Through the deepening light, I can see the gleam in Ethan’s eyes as he watches me, and it’s my turn to feel self-conscious. I want to defend my story; it’s what came to me, the way Mom always said a true story was supposed to, but before I can say anything, Ethan speaks.

“You’re a good person, Olivia Grace. And I’m glad to be at your side.”

It is the first time he has said my name like that, and I like the sound of it on his lips. I curl to my side and respond, “You, too, Ethan Shea.”

And I fall asleep thinking that at least a little of myself has somehow ended up in the boy across from me, just as certainly as a piece of that boy is now inside of me. And if I’m in two places, surely it will be harder for me to lose myself.

Chapter Nineteen: Aw, Rats

(ETHAN)

I
WAKE UP FEELING COLD AND DAMP
and absorb the smell of wet grass and moist dirt, both of which are strong in the crisp air. Looking across to where Olivia had fallen asleep last night, I realize she’s no longer there. I swear and jump up hastily; the medicine must have made me sleep deeper than I normally do.

I always make sure I have my dagger strapped to me when I turn in, so now I grab my sword and the pack, which Olivia for some reason has left behind. Usually, she sleeps with it looped over her chest, so there’s no way we can leave it without meaning to. The sun has not risen all the way, and the sky has a sleepy deep blue feel to it, with the birds sounding hollow and distant. Flying south or something, if they do that here.

I spin, trying to trace Olivia’s footsteps through the dew and bent blades of grass. I find a trail which leads away from our little clump of trees, down a sloping hill. Here the trees are bigger, more mature, and the leaves, though thickly clustered, are touched with reds and yellows. Her footsteps get muddled, like she walked around several different trees. I stand still and examine the branches.

Not far from me, I see a dense shape on one of the heavy branches of an old, gnarly tree. Either it’s Olivia or a freakishly huge bird. I walk to the base and stare up. She’s watching me and in the dim light I can’t read her expression. My body relaxes at finding her safe, but I know her well enough to recognize something is bugging her.

“Morning!” I call up to her.

“Hey.”

I rub my jaw, wondering whether it would be better to sit here against the trunk until Olivia’s ready to talk or climb up and wait next to her. I’m about to sit when she calls down, “Stop! You don’t wanna sit there!”

 I glance down at the ground and notice what looks like clumps of old raspberry jelly all around the base of the trunk. Shrugging, I take Olivia at her word and opt for the climb. I heft myself up through the branches until I’m almost level with her, about twenty feet up. Sitting back and getting comfortable on my branch, I dig my hand into the pack and pull out some bread and cheese and without saying a word, hand them up to her. Breakfast of champions. I’m almost finished with my own by the time she speaks.

“Thanks,” she says. And after a quick pause she sighs out, “Well, they’re here, Ethan.”

“Who?” I study the ground below us and dart my eyes to the surrounding trees, as if there’s someone standing there I could have missed while walking the two hundred yards from our camp to this tree.

She nudges my shoulder with her foot. “Not here, Goof. Just here in general—in the Shadows. My brothers; I saw them last night.” She sounds more contemplative than anything.

“Huh? What d’you mean, you saw them?”

“I had a dream, but it felt like more than that. They were up in a tree and there was a pack of wolves and a huge fight. And then I woke up.” Her voice wobbles; I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention. She clears her throat. “There was blood Ethan. A lot of it. What if they actually need help? We can’t stop what we’re doing and try to find them. But maybe they’re hurt?”

I open my mouth to respond but she plows through. “Argh! And you know what I think? I think this whole thing
sucks
. Why did Mr. Gunther even believe I could do this?” She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes. “When I didn’t know where my brothers were, I could kind of block out missing them, right? Now that I know they’re here, I’ll be worrying about them while I should be focusing on the rift. Why did I agree to go along with all of this? The worst of it is, when I woke up, I actually turned to ask Sam if he was okay ’cause I could have sworn he was right there. Like some flippin’ twisted phantom limb thing. I could feel him, Ethan.”

Whew. I blow out my breath in a puff. “First of all, you’ll handle it as it comes. It’s what we do. Right? How many times have you told me, ‘No stressing; it doesn’t help’? Secondly, you went along with it because it’s the right thing to do. You know the Ol’ Man is right, and you know what you are. Remember your story from last night? Not alone? Okay, so we’re not.” I point to the sky which is turning pink and gold. “And see, here’s the light. We’ll be fine. But … if you think your dream’s real, how do you want to handle it?”

“What I
want
to do is grab all of you guys and go home to some kind of normal.” She exhales with a heavy sigh. When she talks again, I can hear the calming of her voice. She’s worked her way through her frustration. “Sorry for the meltdown; I’m cool now. What we
need
to do is get out of this tree before all the red ants come back. I’ve got a rift to take care of.”

Instantly, I feel all itchy. “Red ants? Come back?” I’ve had it with things biting me. I don’t want to be anywhere near red ants, especially stuck in a tree.

“Yeah; I swatted a whole ton off before I climbed up, but there could be more. They were on all the trees, but this was the best one for climbing. It was kind of gross, but I needed the perspective from up here.”

I think back to the raspberry jelly at the base of the tree. Oh, man. That’s sick. I jump down, trying to avoid the muck. Olivia’s soon at my side and after we collect the rest of our gear, we head out. She’s quiet at first as we walk; we no longer stay on the trail, but weave around it, in what feels like random directions. She’s good at this; we’re actually steadily moving north.

“Okay,” she says unexpectedly, flashing a quick smile. “I’ve made it better in my head.”

“Made what better?”

“My dream. I couldn’t get those images out of my head; all that blood and stuff … so, I added on to the end. I sent something after the wolves. Now I can pretend that’s how it happened and everyone’s fine. I promise I won’t stress over them. They’ll find us.”

She catches my expression and rolls her eyes. “No, I am not crazy. Sam calls it living in Olivia World. It’s a coping technique, but it’s no different than making up stories.”

I laugh. It’s typical Olivia. “What did you send?”

She grins wickedly, “Aw, just a ten-foot bear. That’ll cover them; wolves don’t like confronting anything stronger than they are!”

~~~

T
HE DAYS HAVE BEEN STARTING OFF COOL AND DAMP
, but by the time the afternoon hits everything is warm and dry. It’s got to be a thirty-degree fluctuation. We don’t have anything heavy to wear; we start our mornings at a jog in layers of the spider tunics; by lunchtime, we’re stripped to one layer, with our sleeves and pant legs rolled. Nights have been colder and we’ve been sleeping back-to-back for the warmth. But Olivia’s been having a hard time sleeping through her dreams. Some of them are real enough to her that she’ll wake up screaming or jump up with her dagger in her hand, and it takes a minute for me to talk her back to calm. Most of the time, she doesn’t remember it the following morning; the times she does, she wakes up with her face pale and drawn. She tells me what she remembers and tries to twist the images into a positive light. But they’re getting to her, and the shadows under her eyes are getting deeper.

We make our way, walking and jogging, until we hit a thin dirt road, which follows along a river with a sloping bank. We’re back on Greensway Road, which we’d been avoiding for a while now. We trail along the edge, winding around willow trees and small groves of aspens, trying to locate a place to cross, knowing we eventually need to be on the other side. Right now, though, we’ve hit the peak of the late afternoon heat. I gaze speculatively down at the water, thinking maybe we should find a way to scale down the side and walk the river’s length for a while. Getting wet would keep us cool. And even if Olivia would rather stay dry, the rocky shore is plenty wide enough to allow her room to walk.

I open my mouth to get her attention. She’d been telling me different stories, gruesome versions of fairytales she remembers from when she was little. But no words come. I grip her arm and we watch in silent shock; a large blackbird had swooped low above the water, chasing after a dragonfly. We blink as the water turns white with bubbles; there’s a flash of a silvery fin, a gnash of glinting teeth, and a small puff of dark feathers. The bird is gone. I blink again and the water flows crystal clear and moves languidly on its way down its path. Blue, with glints of gold from the afternoon sun. We eye each other in disbelief. We’re not quick enough to catch sight of whatever it is that swims under the surface, but it has to be some kind of insane fish. I wonder if they populate the whole river.

“No way,” says Olivia. She picks up a piece of broken branch and tosses it down to the water. Bubbles, fins, teeth, wood chips. Before it even hits the water.

I try a hefty rock. Bubbles, fins, teeth, mineral specks.

“Well, criminy, no wonder there haven’t been any ducks or anything swimming around!” Olivia is stunned.

“Dude, that’s unreal,” I grimace. “Fishing will never feel the same again.” And that answers my question: We are not walking in the water. We move to the right, giving wide berth to both the drop and the river at our side.

New Hope is somewhere across the river. It’s supposed to be a fairly big city. We’re hoping to be able to blend in as either travelers or new inhabitants, or something. Since it’s our original destination, decided back in Orchard’s Spinney, we’re pretty sure the Sliders are anticipating our arrival. But Olivia says it’s a necessary stop for some reason. And other than Olivia’s nightmares and that guy back in Cropton, we haven’t been bothered much. I’m thinking it’s part of their strategy at getting to her. The anticipation of not knowing what to expect, of what kind of attack they have planned, makes both of us jumpy.

As the air grows cooler and the sun begins to dip, we get to a sturdy arched bridge made of stone and solid wood slats. We hear a rumbling coming from further down the road, and we watch as a small dust cloud billows and draws closer to us. We step to the side as a large horse-drawn wagon pulls to a stop in front of us. The horse nickers contentedly, like it’s happy to rest. Judging from the horse’s sheen, I’d say the load is heavy; the back of the cart is filled with rough brown cloth sacks, the kind used for grains or feed.

The man tips the brim of his hat and gives an open smile, which reaches his eyes. “Good evening, folks. You all heading towards New Hope? If so, I ken give you a lift; I’m headin’ into the city myself. Or if yer anywhere along the way, I ken drop you. It’ll be dark soon an’ you’ll be wanting off these roads.”

Olivia studies him with her honey-colored eyes. “You’d give us a lift? That’s kind, sir, but my brother and I wouldn’t want to slow you down at all. You’re hauling a heavy load already.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t be slowing me a’tall. I’m jest bringing in some laced feed, see if I can’t help out my sister. Aimin’ to get there before the sun goes down, though.”

“Laced feed?” Understanding flashes across her face. “You mean poisoned? Oh, my gosh! It’s true then? About the rats?”

“Yes, miss. They overrun the whole city come nightfall. You don’t want to be without shelter at that point. It’s been a month now and the people are at their wits’ end. I’m from the next town over, past the Greens. We’re trying something new.” He gestures back to his load.