Authors: Lynne Matson
Nil
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FOR STEPHEN
I WOULD FIND YOU IN ANY WORLD
TIME IS THE FIRE
IN WHICH WE BURN.
—DELMORE SCHWARTZ
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1
CHARLEY
AUGUST 10, NOON
Heat.
Inexplicable, consuming heat—choking like smoke, burning like fire.
That was my last memory before the invisible flames spiked into icy nothingness, along with the crazy thought that if I survived this bewildering bonfire, my dad would freak when I was late returning his new car.
CHARLEY
AUGUST 10, 11:56 A.M.
Dang, it’s hot.
I’d been out of the car for all of one minute, and I was already roasting like a skinny rotisserie chicken. The asphalt radiated heat. Shifting my feet, I fumbled with Dad’s keys, dying to climb back into his Volvo with its arctic air-conditioning and new car smell.
Instead, I grabbed the plastic bag from the back seat and slammed the door. I had fifty dollars’ worth of clothes to return. Fifty dollars of my hard-earned summer babysitting money, wasted on two silly skirts I never should’ve bought in the first place. The minis were crazy short, and on me, they looked downright skanky. I’d never wear them, and had Em or Jen been with me, they wouldn’t have let me put the darn skirts in the cart.
But yesterday, like today, it was just me.
Well, crap
, I thought, biting my lip as I stared at the empty car. I hated being alone. I always had, and I hated that I hated it. I mean, I’d never even gone to see a movie by myself and secretly envied people who could. The truth was, I’d never had to be alone. My sister, Em, was always around, or Jen, my best friend since second grade. Or both.
Until now.
A fresh wave of loneliness washed over me with the heat; it was the same wave I’d felt when we’d dropped Em off at college last week, and again yesterday when I’d watched Jen board a plane bound for Milan. My two favorite people, gone.
Not forever,
I reminded myself. I refused to pitch a pity party in the Target lot.
It’s just a few months, four at the most
. Jen’s study abroad program ended in December. By Christmas, life would be good, and our senior spring would rock. Until then, I had volleyball. Practices would keep me busy, and games would keep me focused. And I’d visit Em in Athens every chance I could.
Feeling slightly better, I locked Dad’s car and faced the open lot. Asphalt as black as coal stretched before me, broken only by lonely white lines.
Park in the far corner
, Dad had said, tossing me his keys with a wink. Catching the keys, I’d smiled.
I love you too, Dad
.
Of course I’d parked in the far corner. No other car was anywhere close.
Now that I was walking,
far
wasn’t the word. It was like I’d parked in dadgum Egypt, and I’d swear it was just as hot. Not that I’d ever been to Egypt, but I couldn’t imagine it was any hotter than Georgia in August. The Target bull’s-eye flashed like fire in the distance. Near the lot’s center, the asphalt shimmered in the heat. I watched the ground blur, absently thinking of a desert oasis. It was the kind of shimmer that moves with you … moves away, always out of reach.
Not this one. This shimmer stretched into the air, rippling like a wall of wavy glass. Then it rolled.
Swiftly.
Strangely.
Toward me.
In the time it took to blink, the air in front of me melted. It undulated, like a wave of liquid crystal, and before I could breathe, the wave engulfed me in a silent rush.
Hot air gripped me like a vise, then burst into flames. Every speck of skin screamed; every nerve ending exploded.
I’m being flash-fried in the Target lot!
The thought ripped through my brain as the invisible flames drove deeper. I tried to scream, but choked on the heat; it was in my mouth, in my lungs, in
me
, like a living darkness I couldn’t shake. Blistering tar coursed through my veins, then filled my chest, stealing my air and slicking behind my eyes.
A darkness blacker than asphalt rushed at me; I fell to meet it. My last sensation was of icy cold. A biting cold as raw and as painful as the heat had been seconds before, and then—nothing.
No light. No sound.
No air.
CHAPTER
2
THAD
DAY 267, DAWN
Two days ago, Kevin went renegade, bolting to Search alone.
Yesterday his clock ran out.
And today—well, today seriously sucked. Maybe for him, and definitely for us, because one day later, we still didn’t know if Kevin had made it or not. All we knew was that today was his Day 366, and on the island of Nil, no one got a Day 366.
Swallowing bile, I realized my brutal beach run had done absolutely nothing to clear my head. If anything, I felt worse. Now I was exhausted
and
edgy. Not the way to start a Nil day.
One meter from the tree line, I stopped, and in a move that would’ve stunned my coach back home, I forced myself to breathe. To consciously take in air.
Focus the breath, focus the mind
—it was my coach’s classic send-off before we hit the mountain, not that I’d ever really listened. I inhaled through my nose, breathing from my gut.
Breathe in … hold … breathe out
. Coach always swore that if we were doing it right, our breath would sound like a roaring ocean. Ironically, all I heard
was
a roaring ocean. Behind me, potent liquid avalanches crashed into shore, crumbling one after another.
Breathe.
A black streak flashed on my right. Instantly amped, I pulled my knife and spun, fully aware I might already be toast. The blur dropped something near my toes, and my adrenaline rush died on the spot.
“Nice.” I stared at the dead bird at my feet. “Burton, you shouldn’t have.” Of all the cats on Nil, Burton stood out the most. A jet black cat, his paws were pure white. They looked like they’d been dipped in snow.
Sheathing my knife, I nodded at Burton. “Really, you keep it.”
Now the cat looked annoyed, like he’d hoped for more. Burton and I had come to a truce months ago. I tossed him fish scraps, he hissed in return, and occasionally he brought me dead stuff to show he actually cared.
Nothing like starting the day with a corpse, even if it was just a bird.
Abruptly, I felt like the bird. Dead on my feet, like I’d spent the day shredding fresh powder, but here on Nil, the day had barely begun. And thanks to Nil, I hadn’t touched a snowboard in exactly 266 days.
Dwelling on snow and corpses and breathing exercises not worth a crap, I trudged down the path, the one that led to the Wall.
I found my name and touched the letters like a blind man reading Braille. I did this every morning. Part of me knew it was borderline obsessive; the rest of me didn’t care. After nine months on the island, I’d earned the right to a few whacked-out rituals. The Wall was a memorial,
our
memorial, even for those of us still here.
The longer I traced, the calmer I felt, and by the time I finished my name a third time, I was almost Zen. Then I glanced at Kevin’s name and my near Zen shattered: five letters, then a blank space. His empty space screamed at me, begging to be filled. But to fill the space, I had to know what to carve; the ugly void was a cruel reminder that
I did not know.
I closed my eyes. My head felt ready to explode. And if I felt this crappy, I couldn’t imagine how Natalie was holding up.
Not so great
, I thought, picturing her face as she lurched into the City last night. Both hopeful and hopeless, she was a different kind of lost. And the worst part—the part that made me want to slam my head against the Wall—was that there was nothing to do but wait. Wait to grieve, wait to celebrate, wondering if Kevin’s fate was a sneak peek at our own. This was Nil’s favorite game, the one where she messed with our heads.
I prayed Kevin had won. But either way, he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. There was no overtime on Nil.
“Thad!”
Hearing my name, I turned away from the Wall. Rives was walking toward me, his dreads tied back, his face all business. A sleek wooden board rested against one hip.
“Any word on Kevin?” His eyes darted over my shoulder.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe today.” Rives looked as frustrated as I felt.
“Maybe.” We might as well have been discussing the weather.
Think it’ll rain today? Maybe
. Meaningless small talk about something over which we had no control.
I glanced at his board. Remembering this morning’s monster swells, I frowned. “You going out alone?”
“You know it,” Rives said, breaking into a grin. “Unless you’re game.”
For a half second, I actually considered it. Then I sighed. “I can’t.”
Rives gave me a long look. “You sure, bro? I’ll wait.”
“Thanks, but I’m out. I promised Natalie I’d do sweeps.”
There was no way Rives would argue with that. As he walked away, I called, “Rives!”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Be safe. Watch your back, eh?”
“Always.” Grinning again, he threw me a quick salute.
Rives vanished into the trees. The sky was clear, and the clean air smelled like salt. It was like every other morning for the past 266 days—and yet it wasn’t. A cagey vibe hung in the air. More than just the anticipation of the verdict on Kevin, it was something else. Something new, something I couldn’t quite nail. But it was there; I felt it. And it was something to do with me.