ALMOST TWILIGHT
James had tracked the girl, Lana, easily. He’d watched her avoid certain plants with care; he’d done the same. He’d seen her pluck redfruit from a tree and eat it without fear; he’d followed suit. But she’d never heard him behind her, never sensed him, not once.
But the boy with an air of authority and blazing green eyes had nearly seen him, twice.
His brothers would be ashamed; they would laugh in his face. You think you can track, Little J? they would say. You think you are ready to lead? they would scoff. You not ready, you just a boy. You need to be a man to lead.
But he did not want to lead like his brothers back in Kenya. The thought of spending his days leading big-game hunts for rich Americans made him sick, even though it would make him money. He bled for the animals as they bled; their death gaze cut him to the quick. No, he had no interest in leading that. Killing did not a man make.
But leading did.
Perhaps that was why, when the green-eyed boy turned for the third time in his direction, James had nearly stepped from the tree’s shadow, and when the boy spoke at the cave’s edge, James had felt the boy was speaking to him, to his heart. He wondered if Lana had felt the same. She’d stood still and listened too. And when she followed the group into the cavern a good hour later, James followed suit.
She’d led him to this group, and they had been more interesting than her by far.
He’d watched earlier as the boy led the group to bury dry bones, giving someone long dead a simple burial worthy of a bowed head, a show of respect. He couldn’t help but respect that in kind. And the green-eyed boy was clearly in charge. All looked to him, all followed him. Even the blond one who called the green-eyed boy brother.
He’d heard little, but that word he’d heard as clearly as if it were spoken to him.
He knew he should turn back, go tell Carmen what he’d found, what he’d seen. But he wasn’t sure he was done. She wanted information, and this group had it. The green-eyed boy had declared that truth himself.
Perhaps he was with the wrong group, James mused.
He would wait and see.
* * *
Davey surveyed the City perimeter for the third time in an hour. He’d swept all the way from the icy cove to the fish traps, and everything in between. He’d spent an inordinate amount of time strolling up and down the wooden wall full of names, wondering what happened to all those people. Some had checks or moons or some other sort of mark, but given the heaps of crosses sprinkled throughout, he couldn’t help but assume that quite a few people had met their death here. It reminded Davey of the crude marks prisoners would make, something to scream I was here.
Creepy, he thought. He refused to add his name to the mix.
Still moving, he walked an invisible line along the City edge. Restless and worried, he couldn’t sit still. Paulo had said the wild gates came every day at noon, and that a guaranteed gate would come in three months. The thought of sitting around twiddling his thumbs for three months drove him absolutely crazy. He’d go bloody insane collecting wood, cooking fish, and waiting for time to pass, not to mention constantly peering around for tigers. It was an island hell he’d never imagined.
But the night he’d spent curled against Molly on the beach hadn’t been too terrible, even though he knew she’d felt differently. She’d even asked him to share her hut, if only because she didn’t want to be alone. He’d do it again, every day, every night, even if it was a different kind of torture.
Where was Paulo?
Davey swept his eyes through the trees. What if Paulo didn’t return?
We’d be completely screwed, he thought dismally. They were all banking on a mysterious mountain gate opening in three months’ time, showing up in an equally mysterious mountain location known only to Paulo. And how were they to know exactly when three months passed? It wasn’t as if they had a calendar handy. What if they miscounted? Davey constantly repeated the date to himself throughout each day, like exam material to be tested later. Ten days, he’d say when he woke. Ten days, as he ate. Ten days as he walked, ten days as he went to bed. And the next day he’d add another. Today was Day 11, but it was a poor system at best.
And how were they supposed to know when noon arrived? No watches, no clocks, no timepieces or sundials of any sort. I guess we just hope to see a gate in time to catch it, he thought.
But he hadn’t seen one yet.
On the other hand, he’d seen a black panther, a wombat, a bison, and a bear, and that was just today.
Davey stood at the City’s edge, pondering the ridiculousness of it all, when Paulo stepped out of the cliff, literally. Three more people followed, all boys about his age. Two had blond hair, with lanky, lean builds; both could pass for any of his surfing mates back in Melbourne. The taller, more muscular one looked like he’d just chewed nails; the shorter blond with shaggier hair seemed a bit strung out. Shadows bruised the skin under his eyes, dark enough that Davey wagered he partied harder than Davey did. The third boy had a straight spine and spiked black hair, with a lethal-looking sword slung on his back. He’d likely hit it off with Amara, he thought, if she doesn’t spear him first.
Davey stood still, arms casually crossed simply because he had no pockets to stick them in, and watched.
The closer they got, the wearier they looked. Interestingly enough, they all seemed to know where they were going, which was straight toward him.
Another couple popped into sight from the cliff face, a couple who seemed to actually be a couple. They weren’t touching, but something about the way they moved together screamed twosome. The girl had a mane of wild blond hair, a heart-shaped face, and a twine rope slung across her chest. The tall, dark-haired boy beside her walked with purpose and an air of power.
Actually the entire group walked with purpose, as if they owned the island.
“Paulo brings many.” Hafthor’s voice came from behind him. Davey looked up to see Hafthor’s earnest expression. The Icelander always made Davey feel a bit stunted, which was new for Davey, who was accustomed to being the tallest on his football team.
“Five,” Davey commented.
“Five we can see,” Hafthor mused.
Davey fought the eye roll threatening to overtake him. Hidden people, he thought. It was as if Hafthor expected fairies to pop out at any moment. But this island seemed to call only people, and beasties. No fairies. And fairies didn’t sound particularly frightening anyway.
A cold laugh rattled his skull; it drifted through his ears, from inside his own head, loud enough for him to twitch. It was one of those fleeting moments when Davey wavered and thought Hafthor might be onto something after all.
Paulo and his posse strode up to Davey.
“Welcome back,” Davey said. “I’m guessing your trip went well?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Not exactly as I expected,” Paulo said, “which, given this place, isn’t surprising.” And yet, Davey thought, you still look surprised.
“Davey, meet Zane, Kenji, and Thad.” Each boy raised a hand in turn.
“And this is Rives, and Skye.” The couple waved and said hello.
“Davey.” He raised his hand, silently repeating their names, knowing he was missing something.
Hafthor stepped up beside him. He held two full nets teeming with fish, hefting them as if they weighed nothing. “I am Hafthor.”
“Hafthor?” Zane’s eyes widened. “Dude, you look like a full Thor.”
Davey choked back a laugh as Hafthor raised his eyebrows.
“Where is everyone else?” Paulo asked.
“Molly’s on the beach,” Davey said, realizing one beat too late he’d answered about Molly’s whereabouts first. “Calvin too. Amara is sharpening a wooden spear by the supply hut.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”
“Small group,” Thad commented.
“It was a clean slate,” Rives said. Beside him, Skye’s face paled.
Thad. Rives. Skye. Zane.
Davey snapped his fingers as recognition hit. “You lot were already here! Your names are on those planks, the ones stretching for meters.” He cocked his head. “So where’ve you been?”
“Home,” Rives said, his face unreadable. “And now we’re back.”
“What?” Cold rushed across Davey’s skin, like the afternoon heat had been abruptly sucked from the air. “You went home? And now you’re back? Bloody hell. Why?”
“Let’s go to the City and we’ll tell everyone at once.” Rives walked as he spoke; the rest of the group followed. “Davey, I know you want info,” Rives said, glancing behind me, then carefully screening the trees, “and you’ll get it. But first we need food, some water, and to sit for a second without wolves or lions or anything else trying to make a meal out of us, all right?” Now he looked straight at Davey.
Davey nodded robotically.
Back in the City, his gaze went immediately to the wooden wall of names, some that now had faces. Rives. Thad. Skye. At least now he knew what a check meant: It meant someone had left. Someone had survived.
But why would anyone come back?
* * *
Darkness fell fast and thick, leaving Lana cold. A blanket of black wrapped the island tight, cloaking the trees in shadow and shrinking the world around her. Stars burst overhead, fiery ice in the sky, as clear and bright as she’d ever seen at home. A stone’s throw away, a semicircle of thatched houses ringed an open center, a crackling fire burning at its heart. The girl with wild, curly golden hair who had tried to stop her this morning sat by the fire next to another girl, one whose face tilted toward the first girl, listening. From her vantage point through the trees, Lana could make out the blue streak in the second girl’s dark hair; it caught the firelight like sapphire facets. The two talked animatedly, bodies as relaxed as their smiles, an easy camaraderie in the making. Longing welled inside Lana, and she stifled it immediately. She wasn’t here to mingle and make friends, especially with haoles.
The wind shifted, and Lana’s mouth watered. Too nervous to eat before she left this morning, all she’d had today was fruit. Something wrapped in green leaves sat nestled over the coals; it smelled delicious, hinting of mango and meat. Her grandmother’s advice rang in her ears. Make your own way; seek your own path. Each choice bears witness to who you will become.
Turning away was one of the toughest things Lana had ever done.
She crept away, chilled and furious. She was hiding from a City built by her people, with huts left for her and others like her yet to come. The haoles were squatters, taking what was hers, just as the haole Carmen had hijacked her cave.
An animal howled in the distance, an eerie sound with a snarling echo too close for Lana’s comfort. If only she were at the cave. That was the plan, and she was struggling to come up with another, a failing she placed squarely on the haoles’ heads. She knew the City had been taken over by the haoles, yet now she’d have to hide among them for one night, until she could make her way to the next place her grandmother had advised.
Moving softly so as to alert no one of her presence, Lana crept forward, toward the most distant hut, the one farthest north. Slipping inside, Lana discovered an island bounty: clothes, twine, satchels, even sandals. And spears. Lots of spears. Clearly it was the cache where Paulo had gathered supplies.
A stack of cloth caught her eye. Sheets, she thought. An unnecessary island luxury, but since she was here, she might as well borrow them. After all, it was just one night.
As silent as the night, Lana removed the sheets from the shelf, spread one on the ground, and wrapped herself in the second. It was just enough to ward off the night chill.
She would sleep here, for one night, and then move on.
After all, this was just her beginning. She had nine months to go.
* * *
The island let her sleep. It kept the other humans away from her temporary resting place, through whispers and suggestions and cold pressure when needed, all read as their own. The female, Lana, had isolated herself well, wielding her own pride to push others away, and the island was more than happy to strengthen her self-imposed walls.
Isolation and pride always worked in the island’s favor. The arrogant humans never understood until it was too late, their pride blinding them to the truth and keeping them in the dark.
Which was precisely where the island liked them best.