Nil Unlocked (25 page)

I noticed she said “life,” not “Nil.”

Reaching out, Macy pressed something into my hand and squeezed. “It’s small, but Jillian and I just wanted you to know that we’re glad you’re here even though we’re sorry you’re here.” Macy smiled. “Merry Christmas, Skye.”

I opened my palm to find a bracelet. Soft twine held a cluster of three small white shells, each unique in shape, none perfect, yet totally perfect for the day. Simple and gorgeous.

Pressure squeezed my chest like an invisible gate.

I had nothing for her or Jillian, and it made me feel awful. I hadn’t even thought about gifts, or more importantly, anyone else. My focus had been on the midnight gate and escape. And Archie’s death. And me. And not necessarily in that order.

I looked up, feeling shallow and selfish and more resolute than ever. “Thank you, Macy,” I said. Tears welled in my eyes; I blinked. “I’m sorry I have nothing for you.”
But I will. I have a gate, a surefire escape, I just can’t tell you about it. Yet.

Macy squeezed my hand, a gentle pressure. “I don’t expect anything. That’s why we call it a gift.” Her smile was as warm as her grip. “Given freely, expecting nothing in return. Jillian found the twine; I found the shells. It’s from both of us.”

I touched my gift. “Thank you.” I stared at the bracelet, hearing Rives’s voice, his words echoing Charley’s.
There are good people still here, still stuck in this deadly paradise. They all deserve to get home.

He was right, and the sooner the better.

It was time to make some Christmas magic happen.

CHAPTER

35

RIVES

DAY 280, MID-MORNING

I paddled out and breathed.

Out here, I gave in. Gave up, letting the water push me where it pleased. I didn’t even try to catch a wave. I decompressed, needing the space to
think.

Skye’s motto.
Think first, act later.
The unspoken
don’t panic.

Talla’s motto.
Don’t think, act.
The unspoken
follow your instincts.

Telling myself not to compare the two was pointless. I compared everyone to Talla; she was my standard for Nil badassery. Leila and Pari held their own, rocking a quiet sense of competence, and both had smartly made allies to watch their backs—like Michael, Raj, and Cho. Kiera was weak and privileged and utterly focused on the
I
in
Nil
; Brittney went around with her jaw perpetually dropped in wonder. Neither would notice an elephant on an approach. The only feeling I got around those last two was a heightened pressure to get their butts home in one piece. Macy and Jillian were tough and kind, my Nil sisters like Nat had been. Dex had grown into his strength, like Ahmad and Jason and Miya.

Talla had been different.

And Skye was different.

Talla’s
in-your-face
attitude had rubbed others wrong, but not me. There was more to Talla than just toughness, and yet, in the end, you got what you saw. A fighter, unwilling to back down, willing to fight for what was right, even if the battle cost her life. Which, in the end, it did.

Skye was another story.

Skye didn’t react like Talla; Skye
acted
. Coolly, with a confidence most people could only dream to channel; her every move was methodically thought through, constantly putting Nil on the defensive. More cerebral, less knee-jerk. More going on inside than anyone could see, giving me hope she might take Nil on and win.

Until this morning. And that’s what pissed me off.

Skye had stepped up to the darkness like a rookie dumbass, without thinking. It could’ve turned out badly. Could’ve been deadly.

Like Archie.

I replayed the morning and a crisp mental sequence struck. Skye, sliding her sling back on her shoulder, her hand palming a rock.

Had she been prepared after all?

Maybe I was the dumbass. Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit. Maybe I owed her an apology for being a chauvinistic jerk.

Maybe I didn’t need to protect everyone, but that didn’t change the fact that I felt driven to try. Archie had been in camp less than twenty-four hours, and I’d done nothing to protect him. Maybe his death was meant to be. Maybe fate was the foe today, not Nil.

Maybe I’m losing my shit.

Rivesssss …

The waves hissed with a ferocity that snapped me back.

The current had pulled me south, past Black Bay, toward the Arches. A single figure stood in front of the Man in the Maze.

Maaka.

I paddled furiously and rode the next wave in. Leaving my board on the rocks out of wave range, I climbed higher, toward the Man in the Maze.

Maaka still stood motionless, arms crossed, a slight frown pulling his eyebrows tight as he faced the carving.

“Morning, Maaka,” I said. “How’s your middle going?”

Maaka didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t acknowledge my presence at all.

“Why, good morning to you too, Rives,” I said pleasantly. “It’s great to see you. How’s everything going? Lose any friends today?” I crossed my arms, my stance matching his.
I’ll talk until you do
, I thought.
I’ve got time.

He turned toward me slowly. “I do not think he was your friend,” he said quietly. “Unless your friends steal from you.”

His gaze flicked to my board and back to me, thoughtful.

“You are not like me, and yet you are. You are
haole
”—he pointed toward the City—“and yet you are not.”

“Because I look like you?” I asked, annoyed that Maaka had put me into a club, yet at the same time excluded me. Twice. “Because my grandmother was from the islands? Is that what makes us alike?”

“No,” he said. “You are not an islander like me. But there is—something. You act like us. You question like us. You think. You lead, you protect, even at your own expense. We are alike here.” He placed his fist over his heart. “The island blood running through your veins is strong.”

Which island?
I wondered.
Hawaii or Nil?

“Who are you?” I asked. “Who is your ‘us’?”

Maaka dropped his fist and looked away.

“Three … two … one…,” I counted slowly. “C’mon, answer, Maaka. Don’t let me get to four.” I raised my eyebrows.

“The numbers,” he said. “They are not for you.”

“Nothing here is for me,” I said dryly. “And yet here I am. Feel free to tell me what they mean.”

Maaka tipped his head.

“The numbers represent the timeline of the journey. Of our journey. Of the path we travel. We start with three seasons, then two, then one. A progression, not to zero but to a completion, to a new beginning. To the fourth season, when we return home.”

A countdown
, I thought.
Just like Thad named the carving.

Obvious and disappointing.

“You talk about us and them.” I studied Maaka as I spoke. “The first day we met, I argued we are one and the same; you told me we’re different. In one way, you’re right. You come here, knowing you can leave. You don’t have to run, you don’t have to guess. You don’t have to live in fear. Everyone else spends every day running for their lives, trying to catch a gate as it races across the island. We don’t have the luxury of knowing a gate is waiting. It’s like you’ve got a first-class ticket and the rest of us are flying standby, every damn day.”

I breathed, fighting the constant frustration simmering below the surface. “So you can have your spiritual journey, Maaka, your middle, but we don’t get that, either. Because when you’re facing down death every day, it’s a little tough to find your inner peace and personal path. And some people never get their fourth season, because they die. Here, on this rock.” I looked hard at Maaka. The lines of his face didn’t change, but at least he was listening. And he didn’t tell me I was wrong about the stationary gate.

Point for me,
I thought.

“You see much,” he said finally.

“Am I still at the edges?” I almost smiled.

He looked through the Arch, toward the island’s interior.

“The island only tests those with the strength to survive,” he said finally. “The island does not bring people here to die. We are all metal, strong but pliable, forged through fire. That is our middle. The island does not choose those who will burn.”

“We all burn,” I said, thinking of Talla. “Fire always wins.”

“Does it?” The water crashed loudly in Maaka’s pause. “Fire may leave a mark, but it doesn’t have to kill.”

“It leaves you scarred, then.” My tone was harsh.

“Perhaps.” Maaka sounded thoughtful. “Or perhaps reshaped. Molded. Stronger. Weak points soldered.” He pressed his hand flat against the Arch. “Look at the island. Shaped by fire. The land, blistered and burned, reshaped into something beautiful.”

His reverent tone made me sick.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Maaka. I don’t think those scarred by Nil would consider those marks of beauty, even if those scars are invisible.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. “How scars are viewed is a choice. Scars are badges of honor. Marks of the path walked to shape you into the person you are to become.”

“Back to the journey, I see.” I crossed my arms. “People die here, Maaka. People who didn’t choose to come.”

“Perhaps their choice was made for them,” he said softly. “Perhaps their end was already written.” His eyes flashed fierce. “But most survive, and those who do are stronger, even if scarred.”

He stepped back, like he’d crossed some invisible line.

“I will go now,” he said. “Do not follow me.”

“Maaka.” One word, delivered like a command.

He paused, then faced me like an equal.

“We’re not done,” I said quietly. “We’re not even to the middle, you and me.”

For the first time he smiled. “We are definitely in the middle, Leader Rives. Just because you can still see the beginning does not mean it is not behind you.” His smile faded. “The island’s fire has touched you. It burns inside you. Do not let it consume you.”

He turned, dropped into the water between the rocks, and disappeared beneath the froth, leaving me alone with the numbers and carvings.

The island’s fire has touched you. It burns inside you. Do not let it consume you.

Easier said than done.

Fire can be extinguished; fire can be also controlled. Harnessed. Like humans had done for centuries.

But Nil’s fire was invisible.

How can you harness something you can’t see?

CHAPTER

36

SKYE

DAY 4, MIDDAY

After spending the rest of the morning satisfying Sy’s rabid curiosity about my uncle’s journal—
What did they eat for breakfast? Did they build the fish traps? Did Mount Nil ever blow?
—I finally escaped, begging off to go find Jillian.

Other than Rives and Dex, Jillian was the only other person Charley had mentioned by name, which told me Jillian could be trusted. And I desperately needed to trust someone with my secret. It begged to be shared, because the stationary gate didn’t belong to me; it belonged to all.

I found Jillian by the Shack, spreading out sheets of creamy pulp to dry.

“It’s so lumpy,” she grumbled. “No one beats the pulp flat like Heesham did.” She pounded one particularly large knot with her fist, which did absolutely nothing. “Crap.” She looked up and wiped her forehead as she smiled. “What’s up, Skye?”

In that moment, time’s butterfly wings fluttered against my cheek.
Don’t cause a ripple you can’t undo.
The stationary gate belonged to all, but the secret of its existence was volatile, its effect on the City and the Search system a wild card that Rives had been hesitant to play.

I could at least give him forty-eight hours to figure out how to deal with it. After all, I’d only been here four days, which was a drop in the bucket compared to his 280, or Jillian’s 276.

Jillian’s hands stilled as she regarded me expectantly.

I patted my wrist. “Thanks for the bracelet,” I said, returning her smile. My bracelet matched hers, where the twine wrapped around our wrists twice before being tied. Three shells, two loops.

“You’re welcome. Everyone should have a little Nil bling.” She smiled wider, then her expression turned serious. “But you look like you have something else on your mind than the bracelet. You walked up with serious purpose.”

“I did.” I paused, trying to sort out where to go without breaking my promise to Rives. “When I met Charley, she told me to find Rives, or Dex. Or you. You three were the ones she trusted most. Other than Thad,” I added. It seemed like I couldn’t mention Charley without Thad, and I didn’t even know her. Or him.

Jillian nodded. “Thad was Leader before Rives. He was the second person I met here.” She paused, like memories had pulled her away. “I trusted them both. They made a great team. It’s what tells me he made it. He had to.” She shook her head slightly, as if shaking out a mental image she couldn’t bear to keep. Then she looked at me. “I trust Rives and Dex and a few others still here. I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me, too, Skye. If something’s worrying you, or you have a question, whatever we say stops here. Between us.” She paused. “Not forcing you, but just know you can bounce anything off me you like.”

I nodded, hating that I couldn’t confide in Jillian. Friendships weren’t easily made, not good ones anyway, and I felt like I was turning down Jillian’s with my silence.

If Tish were here, I’d ask her what to do.

But she wasn’t.

“And if you don’t want to ask me, ask Rives,” she added, misreading my hesitation for distrust. “You can trust him too.”

You can trust him too.

Those five words made my decision clear. Rives was trustworthy in more eyes than mine, and I’d already given him my word. I’d trust that keeping the full details of my arrival gate a secret was the right call, at least for now.