Nil Unlocked (13 page)

We’d been island hopping for days, and the elusive island Dad was hunting seemed more mythical than ever. It was supposedly located near the edge of Micronesia, close to Polynesia and even closer to the equator. I had my doubts.

The Pacific is a very big place.

And some of the islands are very, very small.

Wild-goose chase
, I thought. And lucky for the locals, Dad was the goose laying the golden egg.

I watched as he handed the pilot a wad of bills; same for the waiting driver. Ten minutes later, we stood at the deck, ready to board the
Mystique
, one of the deep-sea-fishing boats I’d seen from the air. The captain wore cargo shorts, a Bob Marley T-shirt, and a flinty look in his eyes that his smile didn’t dent.

“Welcome, Dr. Bracken.” His deep voice rumbled like the sea. “I have my brother to thank for this pleasure.” Only the way Jean Rene said it, it didn’t sound like a pleasure; it sounded like a chore.

Don’t worry
, I felt like saying.
I’m sure you’ll get paid well, too.

Dad smiled as he shook the captain’s hand. “Charles was wonderful last year. A good man. I’m honored to have his brother as our guide and our captain.”

Jean Rene nodded. “I gave my word to Charles. I’ll get you where you need to go.”

Need
, I thought.
Not want.

I met his eyes for an instant. The darkness in his eyes had nothing to do with their color. I fought a weird shiver.

“Dad, can I talk to you a sec?”

“Sure. Let me just go over the charts with the captain, then you’ll have my undivided attention.”

Taking a seat at the front well out of earshot, I tied my hair back in a ponytail, added a few more elastic bands down its length, then wrapped an elastic headband on for good measure, trying to fight the wind as we picked up speed. It wasn’t long before the flat island faded completely behind us and the boat was surrounded by water and open sky.

My dad sat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder.

“What is it, Skye?”

“The captain,” I whispered. “He creeps me out. Like he could take us anywhere and we’d just vanish. It sounds silly out loud, but weird things happen.”
Like Nil.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. “What do I always tell you when we travel?”

“Think first, panic later.”

“Exactly. So yes, we’re dependent on him now. But I left our itinerary with multiple people back in the States. And I checked Jean Rene out thoroughly before I hired him, Skye. He doesn’t have to be warm and fuzzy to get us where we need to be.”

Need
, I thought. Dad used it interchangeably with
want
on this trip.

Reaching into my backpack, I fished around for my Sharpie. In careful print, on the inside of my left wrist, I printed the letters
TFPL.

Think first, panic later.

Right.

Dad leaned back, tucking his hands behind his head. “Based on Jean Rene’s estimates, we should be there by late afternoon. The island is the original home of Charles’s grandmother. Jean Rene’s too. It’s squarely in the grid I made using Scott’s stars as the guide. If it’s not Nil, then someone there must know something about it. Coordinates, how to access it,
something
.”

He tilted his face toward the sun. “Do you know why I became an astrophysicist?”

“Because it’s the best pickup line ever?”

My dad grinned behind his sunglasses. “Because space fascinates me, especially the sun. When I was five, I saw my first solar eclipse from my neighbor’s roof with his dad’s high-end telescope. He was a stargazer; I was a sun worshipper. For me, it was always the sun. After all, it’s what the Earth revolves around, right? I was obsessed with all things sun related. Eclipses, supernovas, black holes, you name it. And then Scott vanished.”

His paused.

“His experience only solidified my fascination with the sun. Because Scott sensed a connection between the sun and Nil. It takes the Earth three hundred sixty-five days to revolve around the sun, and that’s the precise length of time kids have to escape from Nil. A rather odd coincidence, yes? And the gates he spoke of only appear when the sun is shining. Scott had no science, just a feeling, but he was absolutely convinced Nil was linked with the sun.” He rubbed his chin.

“As scientists, we operate by rules. And yet, there is so much we don’t understand, especially about space and the sun. For example, what’s the full impact of the sun’s electromagnetic radiation on Earth and our climate? We know that solar flares often signal a mass ejection of solar material toward the Earth, and while these ejections comprise a small part of the sun’s total irradiation, they can be extraordinarily powerful. In 1989, one tripped a power grid in Quebec, leaving six million people without power. The aurora was seen all the way to Texas. And the Quebec geomagnetic storm wasn’t even the largest one ever recorded.” He fell silent, lost in thought.

“The Solar Superstorm,” I offered in the lull. “Eighteen something.”

“1859.” He beamed. “The Carrington event. It was spectacular. Massive auroras followed, so did major geomagnetic disturbances. And ice-core sampling suggests the Carrington event isn’t unique. Data suggests these storms occur roughly every five hundred years. And my research suggests that the largest geomagnetic storm to ever impact the Earth occurred in 300 AD, at least four times the intensity of the Carrington event, with the greatest impact in Polynesia, with auroras for days. That’s what I’ve been researching, too: anecdotal history of when the night turned to day in the Pacific. Because the aurora would have been so large, it would have lit the night sky like daylight, and such an unusual event would be in island lore. And I don’t know what effects such a massively powerful geomagnetic storm could have on our poles and atmosphere.”

“But what does that have to do with Nil?” I frowned.

“I’m not sure.” Dad ran his hand through his hair. “Call it a feeling. A hunch. One that may be completely off the mark. But if there’s any connection between Nil and the sun, any at all, from a geomagnetic storm or something else, I’m going to find it, because if it exists, it’s important. It might even be the key to understanding Nil.” His voice grew soft. “Sometimes, Skye, even when it seems impossible, you still must try. Sometimes you must take a leap of faith, sometimes you must take a chance. I’m not blinded by my science, nor am I ignoring it. I choose the title hopeful realist.” He smiled. “In life, nothing chanced, nothing gained. Even if I just prove myself completely wrong.”

I nodded. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The boat bounced across the water, heading into endless blue. Cool water sprayed across my face, the polar opposite of my mom’s recent dry and dusty digs. I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Do you ever miss her, Dad?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t ask who I was talking about. “Every day,” he said without hesitation.

“She misses you, too, you know.”

“I know.” He sighed.

“Promise me something, Dad.” I turned to face him. “After this trip, no matter how it turns out, promise me you’ll let this obsession with Nil go. It’s taken over your life. I understand why you’re driven to find Nil, but it drove Mom away. And while I didn’t know Uncle Scott, I don’t think he’d want you to lose your family over his past. And I think Mom could still be in your future,
if you let Nil go
. Does that make any sense?”

“I promise I’ll think about it, Skye. That’s the best I can do.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Love you, pumpkin. Now excuse me while I go chat with our captain.” He squeezed my shoulder again as he left.

I watched Dad slide into the wheelhouse and speak with Jean Rene, no doubt about the mysterious island.

As crazy as he was, my dad possessed an uncanny knack for choosing good people—guides, pilots, hosts, etc.—and he had an equally impressive knack for coming out on top of even the most hopeless-looking situations. Even on the disastrous Kenyan safari trip, he’d managed to extricate our entire tour group—complete with a trio of terrified podiatrists—from the clutches of some less-than-friendly locals toting machine guns; Dad had bartered coin and curios and some impressive karma for our freedom. He never panicked, not at first. Not when it mattered.

I rubbed my wrist and relaxed.

The next few hours passed in a blur of open water.

I dozed off and didn’t wake until we slowed. We were approaching an island; actually we were approaching three. One large, stretched wide, with two smaller islands off in the distance, each with a small patchy green peak and black cliffs. The main island had a large emerald peak, a massive sloped mountain, obviously volcanic, not unlike what Uncle Scott had described in his journal. Suddenly I was wide-awake.

I glanced at my cell phone. No signal, but the time read 5:08 p.m.

I made my way to the wheelhouse, picking the side where my dad stood.

“So that’s where we’re going?” I pointed at the big island.

“That’s it,” Dad answered.

“What are the other two islands?” I pointed.

“The Death Twins,” the captain said flatly. “Barrier islands. The current around the two has crushed many boats, taken many lives.”

I glanced back at the Death Twins. Stretching toward the afternoon sun, the islands looked quiet. Peaceful, even.

“Stay away,” he said softly, so low only I could hear. “They are not for you.”

It sounded more like a threat than a warning.

I liked our captain less by the minute.

We slowed again as we entered the no-wake zone. Near the harbor, the beach glinted warm white in the afternoon sun. The water rippled like liquid glass, crystal clear with a turquoise tint. A manta-ray cruised by, its sleek body brushing the surface. A massive starfish winked from below, so close I wondered whether we were docking at low tide. A man in his late sixties or early seventies waited at the dock, his age alone telling me this wasn’t Nil.

I was oddly disappointed.

Jean Rene shook my dad’s hand. “Family first. Be safe, young Skye,” he said, nodding to me. To my surprise, he actually sounded sincere.

“Dr. Bracken!” The man at the dock waved, his smile breaking his tanned face into a hundred wrinkles. “Charles sent me to take good care of you. I’m his second cousin, Rangi. I will give you the tour. Help you find the island magic you seek.” Rangi winked.

You’re humoring my dad
, I thought, trying to read Rangi’s expression. I didn’t like it, because I didn’t trust it.

Dad didn’t miss a beat. “I’m honored to be here. Thanks for the warm welcome.”

Rangi shrugged. “We don’t get many visitors. Too far out to be a destination for many. Hawaii is where everyone wants to be.”

I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t the least bit bothered to have his island left alone.

As we left the harbor on foot, we passed a line of black rocks that jutted out into the sea. On the farthest one, a small family of three stood together: a mom, dad, and son. The mom sobbed, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, the other dabbing her eyes.

I should’ve turned away.
Looked
away. Left them to their pain. But hadn’t I already established that I was a voyeur?

Something felt—wrong. Or at least very, very strange.

The dad stood upright, arms crossed, bare-chested and showing off impressive black tattoos covering his upper arms and chest, staring down at the boy with an expression of pride, even as the mom wept uncontrollably. The boy, like his dad, wore shorts and no shirt, only the boy wore a lei of yellow flowers around his neck; it hung on his bony shoulders, looking especially fluffy in comparison to his thin frame. He had a small black tattoo wrapping around one bicep. He stared at the water with no expression, then threw something into the sea. His posture seemed sad, almost defeated. More than anything, he seemed resigned.

Rangi touched my arm. “It’s his seventeenth birthday,” he said quietly. “An island rite of passage. He’s throwing seventeen stones into the sea, one for each year of life. It is time for him to become a man.” He paused. “Come. Let them be.”

I turned away, feeling horribly guilty for intruding on their private moment.

Then the wind shifted, carrying their words my way.
Spirit Island
, the man said.

My eyes caught Rangi’s. He smiled immediately, but not before I caught the flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Come,” he said, still grinning. “You have much to see.” He pointed at the interior of the island, gesturing for me to follow my dad, who was already a few yards ahead.

Once we got going, the family slipped from my thoughts. The island was gorgeous.

The houses were lovely. Small, pale-colored homes, all sturdily built and well maintained, all gracing quiet streets. This island, as large as it was, had a simple feel to it. Bicycles were everywhere. No cars. The pace felt slow, in the way of comfortable routines steeped in age. Even the palm trees swayed leisurely in the island breeze.

“First stop,” Rangi said. “Dinner.” He pointed to a beachside shack with a sign that read
FISH
. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my nephew’s dishes.”

Was everyone related?
I wondered. The island seemed too large to have everyone related, but what did I know?

An hour later, I knew that Rangi’s nephew could grill fish like nobody’s business. Flaky and tender, with a tasty citrus-glazed crust and mango salsa—I’d died and gone to island food heaven. Stuffed, I sat back and listened as the locals regaled Dad with island tales.

But the more people talked to my dad, the more I wanted to leave. I couldn’t shake the feeling that people were telling him what he wanted to hear, yet not quite. Maybe he had the patience to sift through the stories for information gold, but I didn’t. This was his quest, not mine.

Abruptly, I needed out; I needed
air.
I needed to get away from Dad’s crazy quest.

“I’m going for a walk, Dad,” I said.

He frowned. “I’ll come with you.”

I shook my head. “I’m just going to check out the sunset, for goodness’ sake. And I have my cell phone and the walkie-talkie you gave me. It’s all good.”