Elemental (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

T
he hurricane shelter looked the same as it had the previous year—same heavy door, same thick walls. So did the grassy square beside it; and the water tower behind, which leaned precariously, defying gravity.

We pushed inside, and followed the staircase down. The shelter was a squat building, built mostly underground. Compared to low-lying Hatteras Island, where the waves almost kissed the cabin stilts at high tide, it felt extremely safe. Even the storm raging outside the narrow band of windows near the ceiling sounded distant. We were insulated from danger here.

I wished my father had come with us. In the heat of the moment I'd been confused, but now I realized that we could have made room for him in one of the canoes. Or would Griffin have already foreseen that? Perhaps there was no way to escape fate.

In the half-darkness we gathered in a circle and ate scraps of cured fish along with freshly harvested yucca flowers and sea rocket stems. I washed it down with small sips from my water canister. Despite the humidity I was thirsty, but I rationed my water. Unless the storm was devastating, the Guardians would arrive the next morning and tell us it was safe to return to the colony, and then I'd gulp down every last drop.

Griffin's portion sat untouched beside him. I tried to get him to eat, but he didn't seem to notice me. With his back pressed against the wall of the shelter, eyes blank and face drawn, he looked catatonic.

He wasn't the only one not eating. “Are you all right, Dennis?” I asked.

The young boy shook his head.

“It's the storm,” explained Rose. She ran her hand up and down his back. “He
feels
it.”

“Well, it is a bad one,” said Lora.

I listened to rain drumming against the shelter. All I could think about was my father, and whether he'd be alive by morning.

Lora watched me. “Everything will be fine. You must have faith in the Guardians.”

“Even when they're wrong?” muttered Dennis.

All eyes turned to him. I'd heard Alice cross the Guardians, but never Dennis. He was usually so wary of speaking out of turn.

“It's a storm, not a hurricane,” he continued. “It's bad, but we could've stayed on Hatteras. We
should've
stayed.”

“Now, now, Dennis,” said Eleanor, no doubt trying to spare him Lora's wrath. “There's more to our element than predicting weather, remember. We need to consider the effects of the storm. How the wind might change the height of the ocean. How rain can erode the beach. How—”

“I've done all of that already.”

“Nonsense,” snapped Lora. “Your father has shown you basic skills, that's all. You'll learn to harness your full element once you're an Apprentice, not a moment sooner.”

Dennis shook his head. “Too late. Eleanor's already taught me everything.”

“How could she? Eleanor doesn't even know everything—”

“She does! And so do I.” Dennis's small dark eyes were wild. “I know the wind is thirty-three knots. We've already had an inch of rain, but we'll only get two. The ocean will swell by eighteen inches, but it won't rise above the cabin stilts. I know all of it. I've felt it all already.”

Now that his outburst was over, the focus shifted to Eleanor. As an Apprentice of the Wind, she needed to tell Dennis he was mistaken. She needed to restore order. But she turned away instead. Even in the half-light, she looked flushed.

I wondered if Lora would punish both of them. An Apprentice training a young one was unthinkable; surely his element was too raw. He should have been taught by his father, Kyte, just as Eleanor had been taught by her mother.

“You should enjoy being young, Dennis,” Lora said with eerie calm. “You have people who care for you. Food to eat. All we ask is that you listen and learn. There's time enough for you to become an Apprentice, to take on that responsibility.” She summoned an unconvincing smile. “Or are you afraid there'll be no storms left by the time you turn sixteen?”

Dennis folded his arms and jutted out his lower lip. “What's the use of having an element if I'm not allowed to use it? Right now I'm no different than Thomas.”

Rose grasped his arm and shook it. “That's a horrible thing to say. Tell him you're sorry.”

“Why? It's true. He doesn't have an element.”

“Maybe there are more elements than we know,” said Ananias quickly. “After all, Griffin has the skill of foresight.”

Lora turned the full force of her glare onto Ananias. “That's no
skill
. Predicting others' misfortune is a curse.”

“You think we don't know that?” I snapped. “Look at him. He can't eat or sleep because of what he saw.”

“If he saw anything at all. Being right twice doesn't make him a seer. Have you asked him what he saw today?”

“No. I'm not going to make him relive it, no matter what it was. And I won't let anyone else, either.”

Dennis shivered. “Griffin frightens me. He hasn't moved since we got here. What's wrong with him?”

“Nothing's wrong with him,” I said.

“How would you know? Our father says you're strange. Says we should be careful around you. Anyway, why don't you have an element?”

“Enough!” shouted Ananias.

Maybe I should have been offended, but I wasn't. I'd asked the same question a hundred times, and never once had a satisfactory answer. I turned to Lora, wondering how she'd reply.

The old woman licked her dry lips. Her breaths were unusually quick. “I think you should go sit by yourself, young Dennis. You've said quite enough for one night.”

With a defiant glare, Dennis shuffled over to the far wall. I wasn't angry with him, though.

“You can hardly expect him to learn if you won't answer his questions,” I said.

“His question was impertinent. As is your tone.”

“My tone? My father may be dead, but you're worried about my
tone
?”

Lora's expression didn't change. “I think maybe you should leave us too.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

As Eleanor told a story to clear the air, I joined Dennis and Griffin in exile against the far wall. When I touched Griffin's shoulder he flinched, but still didn't open his eyes. His dark, curly hair was lank from sweat and his face was gaunt. We probably looked alike.

I opened my bag and pulled out one of the battered books my father had found in the remains of Skeleton Town. Pages were missing, but Griffin didn't usually care—it was a chance to lose himself in a different world. This time, he wouldn't take it.

I could think of only one other thing to try: a piece of driftwood and a burnt twig. Griffin was an extraordinary artist, the best in the colony. I placed the driftwood in his lap, the twig in his fingers, and waited.

Something seemed to stir in him, and Griffin brushed the twig across the wood, leaving shadowy black lines. Although I wasn't sure what he was drawing, I could see him relaxing, his breathing slow. As Eleanor murmured her story, Griffin's picture began to take shape: Guardian Lora asleep, an expression of peacefulness softening her sharp features. It was one of his finest—far more than Lora deserved. I wished he'd saved his talent for someone else.

When she was done telling her story, Eleanor came over and knelt beside Dennis. She glanced over her shoulder like she was making sure no one was listening. But then her eyes locked on me momentarily. I got the feeling she wanted me to hear.

“Are you sure about eighteen inches of swell?” she asked Dennis.

He nodded.

“Hmm. I thought twenty, but you're probably right. You usually are. Your element is so much further along than mine was at your age. But try not to be in too much of a hurry, all right?”

She stroked his spiky hair and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Remember the first time you sensed a storm coming? You were only three, but you knew what was happening. I could tell just by looking at your face you had the element, same as me. And it's only gotten stronger.” She swallowed. “But I know what you're going through, remember? I know how it feels—the
echo
. All that fear and uncertainty.”

“How come no one else's element has an echo?”

“They do. No one talks about it, but if you watch their faces, you'll see—everybody suffers somehow.”

“Sometimes I can't sleep. It's like something's pressing against my head.”

“I'm so sorry.” Eleanor took his hand and held it. “My father wouldn't let me focus on my element until I was your age. I thought if I started things earlier, you'd hone your element quicker—maybe get control of the echo quicker too. But it's worse now, isn't it?”

He nodded again.

“Oh, Dennis. This is all my fault.” She sighed. “How long have you been feeling this storm?”

“Since last night. It's so much worse over here, though.”

“I know. That's why I hate coming to Roanoke Island. But it makes sense, I guess. We only come here when there's a storm, and that's when the echo is worst.” She stared at her fingers, splayed out across the hard stone floor. “Listen, you have to believe me—eventually the echo gets better. It did for me . . . like a weight being lifted, little by little. You'll feel it too. And when you do, you won't care about a title. Or even whether people listen to you. You'll just love being able to relax again.”

She held him then, and let him cry into her hair, while we all pretended not to notice.

CHAPTER 5

S
oon it was too dark to do anything. Ananias took one of the slow-burning candles the Guardians had discovered when they first explored Skeleton Town and lit it with a single spark from his fingertip. We placed blankets on the floor and settled down to sleep.

As the murmur of deep breathing filled the room, I wondered if I was the only one still awake. Then I heard Lora moaning beside me, the noise punctuated by occasional sharp breaths. I was still furious at her, so I blocked it out as long as I could. But there was something very uncomfortable about that sound.

“Are you all right?” I whispered.

Lora opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her tongue clicked, as though stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Do you need water?”

She nodded, but when I picked up her canister, it was already empty. I didn't want to give her mine—I'd been rationing myself—but she sounded worse with every passing moment. Muttering a curse, I placed my canister against her lips and watched the water dribble into her mouth and out again.

“Building,” she croaked. “Clinic.”

I heard the words clearly, but didn't understand. I leaned closer. “What did you say?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Take main road. Left side. Second building. White stone. Broken glass door.” She paused to swallow. “Shelves on right. Second shelf down. White container. Aspirin.”

“What?”

“White container,” she wheezed. “Aspirin.”

Her voice was quiet, and it took me a moment to realize she was sending me into one of the buildings in Skeleton Town. At least, it seemed that way. But she couldn't be, of course. It was forbidden. Lethal.

“Where do you want me to go?” I asked again.

“Main road. . . . Left side. . . . Second building.” Step by step, she repeated her directions.

I hesitated. “What is aspirin, Guardian Lo—”

“Go!”

I sat upright, pulse racing. In the dim candlelight I could see that everyone was already asleep. I was tempted to wake Ananias, to check with him that Lora wasn't delusional. But she hadn't sounded delusional, just desperate.

Going into Skeleton Town during a storm seemed crazy. Or maybe that was the point. Lora probably hoped I'd refuse—further evidence that I wasn't fit to be an Apprentice even if I had an element.

Well then, I'd prove her wrong. I wanted to see the shock on her face when I returned. I needed her to be in my debt, answer
my
questions.

I stepped around the sleeping bodies and padded up the stairs. As I opened the door, rain drove at me from every angle. With a deep breath, I stepped in the direction of the abandoned buildings across the road. I could barely make out my shoes as they swept through torrents of water.

I crossed the road and pressed my hands against the first building I found. I shuffled along to the corner and turned left. The building here was built from rough stone, and although I couldn't see it well, I was sure it wasn't white, so I leaned into the wind and pressed on. When I glanced behind me, it was as though the shelter had disappeared completely.

The next building appeared to be white. I could see its ghostly outline. I rushed toward it and followed the stone with my hands until I reached the door—broken glass, just as Guardian Lora had predicted. I turned the handle and pushed, but the door wouldn't open. I tried to force it, but it held fast. In desperation, I crouched down and attempted to climb through the hole in the glass. Halfway through, my foot snagged the edge and I tumbled onto the floor.

I didn't need to see my arms to know that I'd landed on glass. Even when I stood, the shards remained attached to me. It felt like a hundred tiny bee stings. I picked out each piece while my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

The building seemed to groan under its own calamitous weight. Wind whipped through holes in the windows. I took a step forward but tripped over an object that lay across the floor. My shoulder caught the edge of a table as I fell. It spun me around.

My head hit the ground first, my right cheek pressed against the floor. Water trickled into my open mouth. I spat it out and turned to face the ceiling.

Being on the floor reminded me that Lora's husband had died in one of these buildings. Which made me think of my father back on Hatteras. At that very moment he'd be fighting the storm too, with sandbags and hastily nailed wooden shutters, desperate to preserve what little the colony possessed.

Unless he was already dead.

I pictured Griffin earlier that afternoon—the way he'd latched on to our father with every part of his fragile body in a last-ditch effort to ensure he wouldn't leave us. Why had I pulled him away?

I groped around for an object I could use to pull myself up, and my hand landed on something smooth and hard. Immediately there was humming—a low, unnatural sound that resonated through every part of me. As soon as I let go, the humming stopped. I tried to see what the object was, but it was too dark.

I stood gingerly. Taking tiny footsteps, I made my way to the wall on my right. I placed my hands flat against it and shuffled along until I felt the shelves. They were exactly where Guardian Lora had said they would be—four of them, one above the other. I found the second shelf down and felt a rush of adrenaline as I anticipated finding the container.

The shelf was empty.

I checked it again. Checked that I had the correct shelf. Checked that there weren't other shelves beside me. But no, this was the one. And there was nothing on it.

That's when it hit me: How had Lora known the shelves were here? Did she already know the shelf was empty? Had she sent me to the same building where her husband had died?

I'd crossed Lora earlier, demanded answers she was unwilling to provide. Was this her revenge?

Gritting my teeth, I followed the wall toward the door. My head hurt where it had hit the ground, and every rapid heartbeat sent waves of pain to that spot. I knew I needed to calm down, but I was way too angry.

Just when I spied the door a couple yards away, my right hand ran across cables dangling from the ceiling. Something bright flashed against my hand, startling me. A spark beside my feet ignited paper strewn across the floor. I extinguished it by kicking water over it. Plunged into darkness again, I could still see a bright spot in the center of my vision.

I found the door and avoided catching the glass edge as I eased my way through. When I was outside, I stomped away from the building and didn't look back. I tried to stay focused, but couldn't. I was furious. Whether or not I was an Apprentice, I was surely more useful to the colony alive than dead.

I could see a little better outside, but I still hugged the building. I couldn't afford to get lost. My head felt hot, but the rest of me was shivering. A long night in Skeleton Town was the last thing I wanted.

After several steps the wall felt rougher, and I knew I was next to a different building. When that building ended, I kept moving straight ahead across the road toward the shelter. Five steps. Ten steps. Fifteen.

Something didn't feel right. The shelter wasn't where I expected it to be.

Suddenly there was a sound nearby: something moving, or scraping. Had someone come to find me?

“Who's there?” I shouted.

No response, so I rushed in the direction of the sound. When I reached the spot, I stretched out my arms and felt only wind and rain.

I heard the sound again, nearer this time. Again I hurried toward it, and my shoulder collided with the smooth wall of the shelter. I knew it would hurt in the morning, but I didn't care. All my energy was focused on following the wall. When I finally reached the door, I threw myself inside.

I clung to the rail and descended the stairs, footsteps unsteady, shoes slippery. The candle still glowed, but no one stirred. I wound my way toward Lora. She lay on her side, exactly where I'd left her.

“Two,” she murmured, eyes shut tight. “Two tablets.”

“There was nothing there.
Nothing
.”

It seemed as though her entire body recoiled. “Should've sent Ananias,” she said, more breath than words. “Or Eleanor. Or Alice. Anyone but you.”

“There was nothing there.”

I wanted her to open her eyes. To apologize for what she'd done. But as the moments passed, I began to notice things: her expression, taut and unchanging; her legs, pulled tight against her chest. She looked helpless. She was suffering.

“Blanket,” she mouthed.

My mind drifted back to the building. Had there been other shelves after all? Had I stopped looking too soon?

“Blan . . .” This time she couldn't even complete the word.

With so many bodies crammed together, the night felt even hotter and stickier than the day, but I spread my blanket across her anyway. Her arms glistened with perspiration.

I lay down as her rasping breath steadied. She said the word
tessa
over and over until her voice faded away entirely and I knew that she had finally fallen asleep.

As I rolled away from Lora, I noticed that Alice had edged closer to me. I could even see the whites of her eyes, so I guessed that she'd been listening.

“You're drenched.” She stifled a yawn. “Where have you been?”

“Into Skeleton Town.”

“What for? And why did she keep saying ‘tessa'?”

“How did you hear—” I began to say. But then Alice's eyes grew wide. She was looking upward as though watching someone standing over me.

I rolled over and collided with Griffin. He knelt beside Guardian Lora and placed his hands under her head. She didn't say a word, even when he lifted her head into his lap and stroked her hair tenderly.

Then I realized why.

Lora had always been one of the cruelest Guardians—never satisfied, always doubting. But at that moment, all I could think was that her challenge to me had been real. And because I had failed her, our colony had lost another member.

With only fourteen people left, it was hard not to wonder if we were all as fragile as her. And if so, who would be next?