Authors: Lynne Matson
Nil Unlocked (5 page)
“Perhaps I’m not fully to blame, but I shoulder a great deal of responsibility. Call it the butterfly effect, a ripple in time or fate. Our choices define and shape our lives, and our choices impact others. Because I was late—which was my choice, conscious or not—Scott was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
We were discussing the journal as if it were truth.
“So you’re saying Uncle Scott wasn’t crazy.” I paused, trying to wrap my head around Giraffe Land and failing. “You’re saying that his journal is fact, not fiction.”
“Let me tell you what
isn’t
in that journal.” Dad sat on the edge of his desk and folded his hands in his lap. “A week after our sixteenth birthday, Scott disappeared. The police never found a single lead except for his bike. Ten months later, Scott was found less than two hours away in Boston on someone’s lawn, naked, scratched, and
tan
—mind you, it’s March—with old, healed scars on his cheek and calf. He was taken into police custody and refused to talk until our parents arrived. He looked older, in ways I couldn’t even begin to describe, and when he told us the story, I’d no doubt he’d survived something both wonderful and terrible. He’d survived Giraffe Land, as he called it.”
He pointed at the journal in my hand. “I believe that what he wrote is the truth. Not a delusion, but a reality that he fought to understand after the fact. I looked in his eyes his first day back, Skye. It was all there. Not just the belief, but the depth of sorrow and growth and triumph and strength borne from his experience; it reached all the way to his soul. We were the same age, yet he was so much older. It was in his eyes.” His voice softened. “And that’s something your mom never had the chance to see.”
He looked at me. “I’m the first to tell you I don’t understand how he got there, and as a scientist, it’s baffling. Maddening. Almost incomprehensible. But I firmly believe Giraffe Land exists. And”—his expression was as fierce and protective as I’d ever seen—“now you know why I’ve always driven you to be strong. To be resourceful. To be prepared in the event of any sort of catastrophe. So that if you—God forbid—find yourself on that island, you are as equipped to survive as you can be.”
A long moment passed.
“The true name of the island is Nil,” he said quietly. “And I think I know where to find it.”
RIVES
DAY 241, MID-AFTERNOON
Ahmad took point.
He outpaced us quickly, which wasn’t surprising given his long stride. Behind Ahmad, Jillian and Jason bantered the whole way to the Cove. I dropped back, intent on filtering the island silence. Trees whispered, their leaves restlessly answering the island breeze. The closer we got to the Cove, the lusher the trees. Bright blue sky flickered through the canopy, a cerulean ceiling free of white.
Past the trees, the Cove broke wide open.
Crisp, clean water fell seven stories into a pristine pool as cold as ice. Black rock, green moss. White water. Blue sky. A photojournalist’s wet dream for sure. Not that I had my lens.
“Follow me!” Ahmad waded into the clear pool, elbows high, white froth pooling around his dark waist as he headed straight to the falls. At the final second, he ducked and disappeared under the churning water.
I turned to Jillian and Jason. “You two stay here. Keep watch. Whistle three times if you need us.” I wasn’t sure we’d hear a whistled warning, but it was worth a shot. I always felt vulnerable behind the falls because I couldn’t see what was waiting for me when I came out.
“Ugh.” Jillian rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll stay put. But don’t keep us in suspense.”
Jason nodded. “We’re on it. Just watch your back. And Ahmad’s.” He crossed his arms, his expression both fierce and anxious.
Grinning, I squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, bro. Like you said, it’s got to be good, right?”
Jillian snorted. “Don’t answer that, Jason. Rives, just be safe.”
“Always.” With a wink at Jillian, I strode into the pool after Ahmad, gritting my teeth against the icy bite. When the water hit my waist, I switched to freestyle, covered the distance to the falls quickly, and dove. The sound dulled, muffled underwater. The light dimmed, too, but the darkness told me where to go.
I surfaced into cool air. Water roared at my back like a freight train. In front of me, where there used to be a wide ledge at least eight meters wide, now there was a narrow lip butting against a rockslide. Beyond that, an opening beckoned, partially blocked by rocks.
“Check it out!” Ahmad said, raising his voice over the sound of the falls. “I don’t know how far or how deep it is. I didn’t go in. I wasn’t about to get stuck.” He gestured to his nearly seven-foot self. “But you don’t need to go in to see it. Look.”
I leaned toward the dark hole for a better look.
It was another carving.
A rough diamond shape about a meter tall, with a stick figure dead center. Beside it ran a vertical line, an arrow pointing to the sky. Or at least pointing to the top of the cave.
There was nothing else.
“What do you think?” Ahmad asked. He peered over my shoulder.
“I don’t know,” I said, unsure what to think. All I knew was that I wanted a closer look.
I hauled rocks away from the base to clear a larger opening. Beside me, Ahmad helped me keep the ledge clear. After I’d enlarged the opening enough for me to fit through easily, a thought struck. I leaned back on my heels and looked at Ahmad. “When you checked the Cove for slides, how did you know to look behind the falls?”
Ahmad shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, man. I just—this is going to sound weird—but I felt pulled toward the falls. Like an urge to check the ledge.”
It doesn’t sound weird
, I thought.
It sounds like Nil
.
I’d been more focused on the island than ever lately, acutely aware of all I didn’t understand. My desire to escape warred with my thirst for understanding. It’s why I’d spent hours at the Wall in recent weeks, counting the names, searching for patterns and clues, compelled to stare even as part of me ached to stay far away.
And each day over the past few weeks I’d woken with a fierce sense of
wanting
, a sense that the island was urging me toward understanding. Maybe it was all in my head, but it felt real.
For the past few weeks, I’d also been hearing Talla’s voice, especially when I was near water. I didn’t know what that meant. Probably that I was one day closer to bat-shit crazy.
Ahmad stared at the carving like I stared at the Wall.
“I thought I was going to find someone trapped.” His voice was thick. “I really did. And when I came up behind the falls and saw the rockslide and the opening—and it wasn’t more than a sliver, just enough to see the open space behind the rocks—I panicked. I was sure someone was stuck behind the rockslide. I shouted, my pulse racing like I’d just finished sprints, but all I heard was an echo. No answer. And I kept clearing rock like a machine. When I saw the carving through the opening, I relaxed. I can’t explain it.” He shrugged. “It’s like I knew no one was in there. That I could stop. Then I cleared off as much of the ledge as I could.”
He laughed, a small one of disbelief. “I know it sounds weird.”
“No weirder than passing out and waking up naked on an island that doesn’t exist,” I said.
“Good point.” Ahmad chuckled, visibly relaxing.
It was the second carving Ahmad had discovered near a rockslide.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Nothing here was a coincidence.
Thad had always viewed the island as a person, as a living, breathing entity hell-bent on making our lives miserable and playing with us every step of the way. On the other hand, most people, like Charley and Jillian, just viewed the island as a hunk of rock, a place that existed where it shouldn’t.
My view of Nil hung somewhere in the middle. More than a rock, possibly sentient. But evil? Intent on misery? I wasn’t sure, but my gut said no. Something told me that Nil was as alive as we were, or at least the force that brought us here was. It didn’t feel random, not to me. And it also didn’t feel evil.
Harsh? Yeah.
Cruel? Absolutely.
But not always, because the island had definite moments of benevolence—although I viewed each island kindness with suspicion. Because if I had to pick one word to describe Nil, I wouldn’t pick
evil
. I’d pick
calculating.
And now Ahmad was two for two.
I traced the diamond etching with one finger. Rough and shallow, the carving matched the exact shape of the island that Charley had sketched on her maps. Other than the arrow pointing north, there was nothing else carved into the wall.
The diamond felt … unfinished.
There must be more
, I thought.
More to this carving. More to this cave. More to this whole damn island.
Maybe I just wanted there to be more, but there was only one way to find out.
Be fearless
, the waterfall crooned.
“I’m going in,” I said.
“What?” Ahmad’s eyes widened. “No way, Rives. You don’t know what’s in there. You don’t even have a light. What if the air inside is toxic? It’s a bad idea, man.”
“The cave just opened up with the quake, Ahmad, so I doubt anything’s in there. And it’s been open long enough to vent, so I’m not worried about the air. I’ve been sitting here breathing it and I haven’t passed out yet.” I grinned. “Neither have you. Plus, I’m just going to go a little way. I want to make sure we’re not missing anything else.”
“Don’t do it, man. Let’s wait. Not today.”
“Definitely today. It’s the only today I’ve got, right?” I winked.
A weighted silence dropped as flat as my joke.
Ahmad shook his head. “I don’t like it, man.”
“Point taken.”
I was already climbing inside. Light faded with each step. Slightly bent, I moved slowly, feeling my way, touching both sides of the cave’s walls. Moisture clung to them like moss.
The cave narrowed. Soon the walls brushed my sides. I still crouched, but the cave hadn’t pushed me to my knees. Yet.
“Rives?” Ahmad’s voice echoed behind me.
“Still here,” I called back.
“Find anything?”
“Not yet.”
I moved farther into the cave, which now was more tunnel than cave. Behind me, a rough oval framed Ahmad’s silhouette. Before me the space loomed flat black, like an incoming gate with a rider, only the air ahead didn’t waver. Didn’t move. It was as if the cave was holding its breath, waiting for me.
Then I felt it.
On my left, a single arrow in the wall pointed away from the Cove.
Come
, it whispered.
“Rives!” Ahmad’s voice shot through the tunnel, his tone faint and anxious. “You’re making me nervous, man.”
Every cell in my body screamed to follow the arrow. But the worry in Ahmad’s voice made me pause. So did my role as Leader.
The scrabble of rocks echoed through the tunnel, followed by a loud
thunk
and a muffled curse.
“Rives?” Jason called. “You’re going to run out of daylight soon. You coming?” The pain in Jason’s voice made me turn back.
I tapped the arrow. “I’m not done with you,” I said.
Ahmad and Jason waited outside the entrance. When they saw me, their faces relaxed, a tell they couldn’t hide. But Jason’s didn’t relax completely. He gripped his left hand tightly with his right.
I pointed at his hand. “What’d you do?”
“Dropped a rock on it.” Jason looked disgusted. “Jammed my finger.”
“Find anything?” Ahmad asked. “Or anyone?”
“No people. No skeletons. No bad Indiana Jones moments at all.” I grinned. “I didn’t even find the end. It was pitch-black in there.”
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell them about the arrow.
Liar
, the falls whispered.
You know why.
I did know. It was my discovery, my arrow, and I wanted to be the one to follow it. The urge to turn back toward the arrow was potent, but now wasn’t the time.
Soon
, I told myself.
Jillian waited by the Cove’s edge.
I pointed to Jason’s hand. “Jills, will you check out Jason’s finger? Says he jammed it.”
Jillian’s mom was a physical therapist, specializing in orthopedic rehab, and her older brother was in med school. That made Jillian our resident expert in island medicine. As she gingerly felt his finger, Jason’s jaw tensed.
“It’s broken,” she said flatly. “I’m sure of it. I did the same thing when I was eight.” She gestured to my waist. “I need your knife and bandana.”
Two minutes later, she’d sliced the cloth into wide strips and carefully tied Jason’s middle two fingers together with a piece of bamboo in a makeshift splint.
He lifted his bandaged hand to Jillian. “Thanks.” She waved it off.
“No more gliders for you, Jason,” I said. “I promised Thad I’d keep you in one piece.” I grinned. “And don’t think I’m not telling Miya to keep you out of trouble.”
Jason’s cheeks reddened. I grinned wider.
I filled Jillian in on the walk back.
“So it’s just a long tunnel?” Jillian frowned. “And it dead-ends?”
“I don’t know where it ends, or how. It was pitch-black, and I was almost out of voice range with Ahmad. For all I know, it dead-ends into a wall.”
Jillian played with one of her braids. Then she looked at me, her sapphire eyes sharp. “But you don’t think so, do you, Rives?”
“No. I don’t think it’s a dead end. I think it leads somewhere, to something. Maybe to something important.”
Jillian watched me thoughtfully. “Rives, promise me you won’t do something stupid.” Her eyes searched mine, her expression worried. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” I reached over and tugged on one braid.
She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t I feel better?”
SKYE
NOVEMBER 16, MID-AFTERNOON
“Nil,” I repeated. “What kind of name is that?”
