Half Lives (10 page)

Should I tell her what I knew? I spotted Lobo checking us out in the rear-view mirror again, probably listening to every word we said. I might not mind being stuck with Marissa underground, but
I wasn’t about to be buried alive with Lobo.

I gave my new friend the gift of ignorance. ‘It’s all rumours. Everything will be fine tomorrow. Could be some computer virus. That could shut everything down, couldn’t
it?’

She accepted my feeble explanation and distributed cheese and crackers, chips and cans of Coke we’d purchased for a mere two hundred dollars.

When we finally passed the road sign that said we were only thirty miles from Las Vegas, I began to think I might make it after all. The billboards changed from food and fuel to boobs and
gambling. The closer we got to Vegas, the more I got the distinct impression that we were headed in the wrong direction. Everyone appeared to be going the other way. Marissa was pretending to
sleep. I could tell she
wasn’t
sleeping because earlier her snore had sounded like a hog riding a Harley.

I slipped the map Mum had given me from my messenger bag and uncrumpled it as quietly as I could. I turned the map to orient myself. I realized that my mountain wasn’t far from here. I
noted the name written near the dot closest to the mountain. I tucked the map back in my bag and watched the road signs for my dot.

As soon as I spotted the exit with the name from the map, I yelled, ‘Stop the car!’ Lobo ignored me in his highway-induced coma. ‘Stop the damn car!’ I yelled louder.
‘Stop the car. Stop the car. Stop the car.’ I kicked the back of his seat until he pulled over.

Marissa and Lobo stared at me as if I had morphed into an alien. ‘I’m getting out here,’ I said. I dug the money out from my bra. ‘Here.’ I gave nine hundred
dollars to Lobo and the other sweaty wad of nine hundred to Marissa. ‘Take her wherever she wants to go.’ I opened the taxi door. I slung my messenger bag over my body and shouldered my
backpack.

‘Where are you going?’ Lobo asked, stuffing my money in his pants pockets. ‘I don’t care but this is the middle of nowhere. You’re not safe alone out
here.’

Marissa grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt. ‘Icie, don’t leave me!’

‘Marissa, I can’t help you,’ I said and prised her fingers from my shirt. How could I help her when I couldn’t help myself? God, it hurt to leave her. But I had to. I
zigzagged up the roadside, trying to regain the use of my legs and simultaneously balance the weight in my pack. A car zoomed by, sending a turbo blast through my dreadlocks and a grit-filled
shower over my body. I could see mountains up ahead. One of them was
my
mountain.

‘Icie, wait.’ Marissa raced to me saddled with her goodie bag on one shoulder and her handbag on the other. ‘Please get back in the car. You will die out here.’

We heard the sound of a slamming door followed swiftly by a gunning motor and tyres screaming against asphalt. The bastard was leaving.

‘My luggage!’ Marissa shrieked and bolted after the taxi as it veered off the highway onto the exit road. The girl could run, but there was no way she was catching Lobo.

Marissa let out a God-awful scream that rattled my nerves like windowpanes in a thunderstorm. That kind of scream was felt as well as heard. We’d been stripped of our home and our security
and now she’d lost most of her worldly possessions. How much could one Cheer Captain take?

She stood, her chest heaving, but she didn’t cry. I was impressed. She jogged back to me. ‘You know what they say?’ she said, and slapped on a Cheer 101 sort of smile.
‘Destiny is a choice, not an option.’

What?
That made absolutely no sense. But I sort of understood what she was trying to say. Maybe in a weird way she was right. Maybe Marissa and I were destined to be together.

‘Believing is seeing.’

– Just Saying 46

FINCH

S
ince seeing the Terrorists’ lights, Finch has increased his Mountain patrols. He’s been up since sunrise winding his way up and down the
Mountain. His mind is foggy with lack of sleep and his body twitchy with his hyper-vigilance. He’s waited all his life to confront his enemy. He must be ready. Today he must make sure the
Mountain is safe for Atti’s Walk of Enlightenment at sundown. The incline of the Mountain matches Finch’s uneven legs. Beckett says the Great I AM created Finch perfectly for his
life’s work. Others patrol but he can feel the Mountain in his bones. He knows every pebble and pine needle. He knows someone or something has been on his Mountain. It’s just a feeling.
A glimpse out of the corner of his eye. A shadow. A sound.

Finch’s job is to protect the Mountain, and he is failing. With every step, Finch hears the Great I AM chastising him,
Failure. Failure. Failure!
He walks faster and
faster to blur the taunts his feet unearth from the ground below.

Here. Here. Here
, the Mountain birds squawk as he circles to the Other Side of the Mountain. He looks where they call but the intruder has vanished before he can hobble
there.

‘How?’ Finch asks himself as the Man-Made Mountains come into view. ‘How can you hide on my Mountain? My Mountain.’ He mumbles until the words bleed into each
other. ‘Mymountain.’

The sun bleaches his vision. Finch stumbles and falls. He’s rolling down the Mountainside, bumping over rocks and flattening shrubs. He tumbles nearly to the base of the
Mountain. His body wedges under a rocky ledge. He opens his eyes and finds the sun to determine which way is up. He presses his ear to the Mountain and listens carefully for the beat of the Heart.
He wishes he could hear it. Beckett says it’s there. It’s what makes their Mountain special. He always seems so sure.

But on days like today, when the sky is so bright it almost hurts to open his eyes and the heat makes it hard to breathe, Finch doubts that there’s a Great I AM watching over
him. How can his faith be so weak? He begs for the Great I AM’s forgiveness.

When Finch’s mum disappeared and left him to take care of Atti. When another Cheerleader dies slowly and painfully. When a baby is born and they wait to see what will be missing
or damaged, Beckett sees a gift where Finch sees a challenge. Finch desperately wants to believe, because without the Mountain what is he?

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Finch tries to find the peace that comes with giving himself to the Great I AM and the Mountain, but the words echo in his head and leave him
hollow.

In this stillness, Finch hears the careful steps of someone with a secret. Maybe it’s a Terrorist at long last. Every day Finch asks the Great I AM to bring forth his enemy. He
longs to do battle. How can he call himself brave if he is never truly tested? How does he know he is right if there is no wrong?

The footfalls are light and pause every few steps. Terrorists slither, not tiptoe. They are hunters and destroyers. Finch believes the Terrorists and the Great I AM are linked.
Terrorists destroyed everything and the Great I AM rose from the ashes. They seed fear so the Great I AM can comfort. Without Terrorists, would there be a Great I AM?

Someone is coming. Someone who doesn’t want to be seen.

Finch tucks himself further under the rock. The footsteps are louder and closer. Finch’s body pulses with the energy of this dance with the enemy. His body coils, ready to
strike.

The moment he sees the dirty feet, his body flushes with disappointment. It’s not a Terrorist. Those feet know the Mountain as well as Finch’s do.

Finch begins to crawl out of his hiding place when he hears Beckett whisper something. At first he thinks it’s an abbreviation of ‘Great I AM’. When he listens more
carefully he realizes Beckett is calling, ‘Greta. Greta. Greta.’ Finch slips back under the stone and hides. What is Beckett doing?

Beckett continues down the Mountain and Finch follows. Soon the landscape clears, making it difficult to follow unseen. Finch finds a cluster of boulders and ducks behind them.
Beckett is heading to the alcove where they used to play as rockstars. It was their secret hiding spot.

As Beckett nears the alcove, Finch sees him wave to someone who appears to materialize out of the dust and haze. Finch sees a flash of blonde hair and pale white skin. Was that
Harper? Why would Beckett and Harper meet in secret? Unless . . .

Finch is overwhelmed with anger. Why does Beckett get everything? Harper isn’t like the other girls in Forreal. She’s the only one with strength of mind and spirit to
match Finch’s. But Harper doesn’t see him, not really. It has always been Beckett. He and Beckett spotted Harper at the same time on the Mountain. Finch ran to get the Cheerleaders.
When either Beckett or Harper recounts the story, they always leave him out. He’s tired of being overlooked and unappreciated.

Finch peeks around the boulder for a better look. He sees the blonde again but it’s not Harper. This girl is wearing loose clothes that obscure her shape. Harper ties rags
around her body that cling to her muscles. But if it’s not Harper, then who is it? Harper is the only Cheerleader with hair and skin like that.

Another Survivor? She looks harmless, but not everything deadly looks dangerous.

Beckett and the girl slip into the alcove. This isn’t their first meeting, Finch realizes. Neither of them was surprised to see the other. They must have planned to meet. How
long has Beckett been secretly meeting with a girl that lives Out There among the Terrorists?

Finch wants another glimpse of the girl. He could confront them, but he needs more facts. He will wait and watch. Heat and fatigue muddle his mind, until exhaustion overcomes him and
he succumbs to sleep. Finch’s dreams and reality mix. He creates a story that connects the lights in the Man-Made Mountains with this girl and the Terrorists. When he opens his eyes,
he’s unsure what’s real and what’s imagined. He hates himself for his momentary lack of vigilance.

The sky is painted lavender as the sun ebbs away. Finch remembers in a flash – Atti’s Walk of Enlightenment. He runs around the Mountain, instinctively taking the shortest
route. As he approaches Forreal, he hears the low rumble of voices.

He strides into the Mall. The murmurs thin to silence and all heads turn. When they realize it’s Finch and not Beckett, they return to their conversations. The crowd would part
if it were Beckett. Cheerleaders would reach out to him as if even his skin were special. Why can’t they see that Finch is the one that’s protecting them? Beckett is conspiring with
someone from Out There. Finch vows that soon Forreal will realize that he is the true leader.

Umph!
Atti collides with Finch, reaching one arm around his middle. The other clutches the thin pine slab that is her Facebook.

How can two such opposites be siblings? Her short, stumpy legs; his long, skinny ones. Her boundless enthusiasm; his stoic, stand-offishness. He wants to feel something more than
irritation with her. He should. He tries, but he doesn’t understand her.

‘Finch!’ she shouts, her voice a blend of relief and joy. Atti’s hair looks like the matted fur of a wildcat. Her dreads are more like bumps, growing only an inch
before they break off. ‘I knew you wouldn’t forget. They said you were too busy patrolling the Mountain, but I said, “No, Finch is my brother and he will come. He will be
here”.’ She squeezes him harder and he pats her on the top of her scraggly head.

‘You know I wouldn’t miss it.’ The stickiness of skin touching skin sets his teeth on edge. He grabs her shoulders and holds her at arm’s length. ‘This
is a ginormous day. You will be a Cheerleader.’

‘And I will be the best Cheerleader in the history of Forreal.’ Her too-big, droopy eyes sparkle. ‘Well, second best, next to you, or third best if you count Harper.
I will make you proud. You’ll see. I have been studying my Facebook and the Just Sayings.’ Harper walks up and Finch’s attention shifts to her. ‘Harper has been helping me .
. .’ Atti keeps talking in the way she always does, until her words blend into a constant hum that Finch tunes out.

‘Harper.’ He acknowledges her with a nod. He’s still baffled by seeing her double with Beckett.

Atti is chattering away: ‘. . . there hasn’t been a walk in so long. I hope everyone will remember what to do . . .’

‘We all remember,’ Harper reassures her, but Atti doesn’t stop talking. Harper whispers to Finch, ‘Have you seen Beckett?’ The hairs on the back of his
neck quiver at the near touch of her lips. ‘Finch,’ she snaps, ‘do you know where Beckett is?’

He shakes his head. He doesn’t know any more. She’s so close that he can smell the sweet mixture of sweat and dirt that lingers on her skin. He doesn’t know what
Beckett is doing. Beckett has never ever kept secrets before. Or maybe he has. Maybe he’s been lying and sneaking around all the time.

Harper’s eyes scan the Mountain. What would she think of her precious Beckett if she knew about his secret meeting?

They can’t start the ceremony without Beckett. He’s not here and yet he still commands the attention of Forreal. As Harper paces the perimeter, Finch sees an opportunity
to sow seeds of suspicion. If they begin to doubt Beckett then it won’t be long before they hail Finch as their leader. He circles the crowd, asking one Cheerleader after another if
they’ve seen Beckett. Atti nervously twists her dreads.