The Dark Water (15 page)

“No, come on. We have to catch up with the others.”

“Listen to Brayden,” Dad says, his voice stronger. He holds the cloth against his wound. “We have to find the others and get out of here. Can't do that hiding.”

He's right. But I hate having to rely on someone I don't trust. “How'd you find us?” I ask, helping Dad to his feet.

“I couldn't find you. I thought you were dead. But then I couldn't find your body.” He stops at a corner. “Then I saw the Keepers chase you down and followed them.”

I grab his arm. “Brayden, I thought I saw someone get hurt.”

“Jo,” he replies, his voice grim. “Spear to the stomach.”

“Is she okay?” I whisper frantically, suddenly so far away from where I need to be.

“I don't know. I'm sorry. I had a choice to make and I left to find you.”

“Your friends are going to the source,” Dad says behind us, between painful breaths. His eyes are squinted in pain, and his hand is on his chest. He's bent while he runs, his face dirty and ragged. He needs more water than my wet hair can give him. “That's where they'll find Randt, so we'll find her there.”

“I should have helped. I shouldn't have left her.”

“You're here,” Dad says, taking my hand. “And because of that, so am I.” He smiles gratefully and for a moment, everything seems worth it. The tunnels close in on us and we run and I'm afraid for my friend and for our lives. But still, everything seems worth it.

JIMMY

FENTON FLOATS BY, THE STREETS EMPTY. IT'S STILL
early, but there's something abnormal to this level of quiet. Through the condensation on the window Jimmy sees the town like an abandoned Hollywood set.

“Who else has it?” he asks quietly. They're pulling off Main, past Pinewood Pancake House, where he used to work in the summers. Betty isn't behind the counter. No one is sitting in the booths.

Hendricks glances his way. “Not sure. Lots of people. We only started getting calls last night. People sick, reports of a mass of soldiers at the Cave. We went to investigate, but the soldiers were buttoned up. They just pulled classified rank on us and told us to help close the roads. That's why we confronted them at the Cave, to learn what's killing our people. You're our first clue, really.”

“But where is everyone?”

“First people went to the clinic, but then it spread so fast that we had to drive around and shout on the megaphones to stay inside.” Woods tugs at his beard. “I haven't slept in forty hours.”

“We have to get Odessa,” Jimmy says as they pull up in front of his house. It's a small thing with blue siding, a smoking redbrick chimney and a white door stamped with boot-print stains from where he and his dad always kick it open when it jams. The maple in the front yard is getting big, drooping its heavy branches across the old shingled roof. Jimmy sees all the jobs he has to do when the summer comes. He doesn't want to leave the car.

“I'm not going in,” Hendricks says.

“That's fine,” Woods replies, keeping the car idling and the heater running. “You say we need to get to the aqueduct to find Odessa? But it's blown up.”

“The soldiers still got into the Cave that way. They must've cleared the debris or something.”

“The thing is,” Woods says, looking out over the neighborhood, “we have to do something about those soldiers. They killed my men. If what you say is true we need to get help. I can't just go searching through the forest for your friend right now.”

Jimmy stares at him through the grating in the car.

“You don't get it. She has the water.”

“What water?” Woods asks.

“The antidote. She has the cure!”

The two cops look at each other. Jimmy presses on, trying to force them into understanding. “She has it. And we have to find her so we can help!”

Woods takes a breath and pops his door. Once out, he opens Jimmy's and reaches out a hand. “I hear you, I do. But I can't have you just running through the woods with all this going on. It's dangerous. And, frankly, if you're really Jimmy Diaz, then you'll want to be here.”

Jimmy doesn't want to see. Not really. He heard about Jo's dad and the way he died a shriveled old man. Jimmy isn't sure he can stand seeing that. He's not sure he can handle seeing his dad wasted away. He'd rather be out there, getting the water,
doing
something. Anything to not go in there. But Woods puts his hand on his neck, part comfort, part orders, and pushes him to the door.

His mother answers, her face covered with a painter's mask, her dark eyes bleary from crying. She's wearing jeans and a red turtleneck, and her hair's up in a bun. Did it always have gray streaks in it?

She pulls down her mask slowly, disbelief plain on her face.

“Mom, I'm sorry.” He reaches for her but she takes a cautious step back. She looks at Woods, questioning.

“He had the virus,” Woods confirms. “He says it's gone.”

“How do you know?” she asks the cop, still not looking at Jimmy. He stands there, helpless. Everything is gone, for the moment, but his mother's fear.

“We don't, Patricia. But he came from the Cave, and the soldiers tried to stop him. He's your son. He belongs here.”

Jimmy's mom stares at him, her brown eyes unsure. She lifts the mask back into place, then retreats into the darkness of the house.

Jimmy's body slumps. He has to lean against the door frame to hold himself up.

“What does that mean?” Woods asks.

“It means she doesn't know me.”

Woods steps inside the house, flicks his flashlight on and points questioningly down a hallway. Jimmy nods, barely, and Woods grunts, covers his mouth with his hand, and gets moving. Seeing his house like this, dark and haunting, makes him feel like the place is already gone. His life is over, and has been ever since he contracted the illness.

It's a short hallway. Jimmy's room. The bathroom. Then his parents'.

His mom's in the corner, sitting on her rocking chair, a small lamp on behind her. There's barely enough light to see by, but she's reading. It's the Bible, which surprises Jimmy. She's never been the religious type. He didn't know they even had one.

“Mr. Diaz,” Woods calls. “Chris?”

Jimmy hadn't looked until then. The bed was a king-size, not just because his dad needed it, but because it was the best. Now, though, Jimmy's dad's almost lost in the midst of shams and the flannel duvet. Jimmy has to suck in a breath. His father's face is sunken, a pale beard sprouting from his face, long enough to reach his chest. His mouth is open and his lips are chapped, but his eyes stare alertly at his son.

Jimmy takes a hesitant step forward. The floorboards creak beneath his foot. He remembers hearing that sound every morning when his dad woke up.

“Boy,” his dad wheezes.

“It's me. It's me, Dad.”

“You got this shit too?”

Jimmy cracks a smile at that, his vision blurred by tears.

“Yes, sir. But I beat it and so will you. I'll save you. You'll see.”

“My boy can do anything. He can do everything.”

Jimmy's heard that before. It's something his dad started saying when he was younger and excelling at sports. He'd repeat the words in the car and at the field before every game.
My boy can do anything. He can do everything. Go get 'em.

Jimmy can barely speak. He can barely breathe.

Just then there's a loud noise, like a lawn mower at full steam. Out front they hear Hendricks slam the car door and shout something.

“Stay here,” Woods says, and runs down the hall, unclipping his gun from the holster.

“That's not Jimmy, Chris,” his mother says, her voice muted. She's still wearing the mask and doesn't look up from her reading.

“Mom,” he says, pleading. “It's me. That virus that made Dad old, it made me old too!”

She looks up then, and for a long moment he thinks she's fine. Her eyes clear up and her thin eyebrows raise, sending lines across her pasty and veined forehead. She's in shock. She's never been like this before. There she is, watching her husband die and her son morph into a stranger.

“I heard the sirens,” she whispers. “They said everyone was dead.”

“I'm not! I made it.”

“But you aren't you.”

The front door bangs open, and Jimmy hears footsteps down the hall. He puts his body in front of his mom instinctively, ready for anything.

But it's Odessa, her red hair brilliant even in the thin light. Close on her heels are Woods and Hendricks, crowding the room. She doesn't say anything, just drops her bag and embraces Jimmy hard. He's never needed a hug more than in that moment.

“How'd you get here?” he whispers into her ear.

“The soldiers left rope ladders and snowmobiles at the aqueduct. Those things go fast.”

Jimmy didn't know she could drive one, much less find her way here, but she did. The new Odessa. The most amazing woman he knows. He grabs one of the large water bottles from her backpack and brings it over to the bed.

“Dad,” he says, opening the bottle. “This is the antidote. It will make you better.”

His dad's never been one for medicine, so his wary expression doesn't surprise Jimmy.

“I'll go back to myself?” he asks, his voice so weak Jimmy can barely hear it.

He reaches out a big, clumsy hand and puts it on his dad's chest. He can feel his body wasting away.

“No, Dad. You'll stay this age, but you'll live.”

His dad shakes his head. Jimmy pours a mouthful of the liquid into the cap and brings it close to his lips. “Come on, open up.”

“No, Jimmy,” he says, with surprising force, pushing him away. “Look at me. What am I now? Ninety? Ninety-five? I've got no strength. I can't move. I can't provide. I can't live like this.”

“Dad, don't be dumb. You'll feel better.”

“Listen to your father,” his mom says in the corner. “He doesn't want it.”

Something snaps in Jimmy, a flash of anger that burns across his vision. “This is
bullshit.
This water will save your life and heal everything that's wrong with you. So what, you'll be old, but you'll be alive and you'll be healthy. It's not like you'll be on a ventilator for the rest of your life. You take the water and get better!”

“Jimmy,” his dad says, a fierce look across his brow. He's not used to being spoken to this way by his son. “Give your mother some and leave me alone.”

Jimmy looks at Odessa, and then at the cap in his hand. It's not spilling. It's not shaking. He's not going to lose his father.

“Sorry, Dad. No can do.” He holds his dad down and pours the capful quickly past his dad's lips, causing him to cough and sputter.

Then he hands the bottle over to his mom, who's watching with scared eyes.

“You're going to drink out of this and stop being crazy. We need your help. We need you alive. I want my mom back.”

She takes the water, then begins to cry. Jimmy kisses her on the forehead and does the same to his dad. “Sorry, old man. I want you around to see your grandkids.”

His dad's eyes are clearing up. His breathing's easier. Jimmy takes back the bottle from his mom and turns to the others.

“One down, everyone else to go.”

OUT OF THE EXCHANGE, THE STREETS ARE FILLED WITH
the echoes of Keepers. We don't see anyone, but they're close. The shouts are loud, like there's a violent protest in the next room. The walls of Capian loom close, and something I hadn't noticed before becomes apparent: the buildings near the edge of the city are smaller, only a few stories high, as if the Keepers didn't want to block the views of the more central buildings.

I wish we hadn't gotten separated. If we had Rob and Jo, we could just leave, just make for the gates. Dad, though, he wouldn't want to go. I can tell. He's anxious, desperate to get to the source. If not, he'd try to save me now, right? He with his daughter in this dangerous civil war, and instead of getting her to safety, he's running down a hazy street toward the sound of fighting. It's hard to remember that this is the culmination of his life's work. He'd rather be here risking his life. And mine.

Suddenly the small road we're on spills out into the huge boulevard that bisects Capian, the one we could make out from up atop the hill. This, clearly, is where all the Keepers went.

All along the boulevard are Keepers, thousands of them, giant pale figures screaming and fighting, cutting and pushing into each other. As I watch, a Keeper in Randt's colors of blue and yellow gets a knife to the gut. He just puts his hand in his water pouch, licks his fingers and keeps going. The water makes this fight endless and extra-violent. Either you're able to heal and then be hurt again, or you're hurt bad enough to die. There's no middle ground.

“You see Jo and Rob?” I ask.

“Um, there are like a million Keepers here,” Brayden says.

“Look harder,” I say. It's not like we have a choice.

The mini-aqueduct in the center of the boulevard splits the road in half and runs straight to the mountain, disappearing into a deep tunnel. Keepers fight near there in bunches, black-and-white Feileen supporters against red Arcos and yellow-and-blue Randt. There doesn't seem to be any alliance whatsoever, and each side is going at the other fiercely. There are even a few Keepers whose entire job seems to be to stand near the aqueduct and splash their clan members whenever they come near.

The wall that rings the top of the crater surrounding the city is bigger than the Hoover. It hurts my neck to look up that high. At its base is the tunnel, a gaping mouth in the wall, and the mini-aqueduct bisects it, as if the aqueduct taps into the veins of the source itself. Here's where the water comes from. This is where it originates.

“I've seen this,” Dad says, his voice given over to awe. He's not looking at the tunnel, but at the mass of Keepers in the street.

“Where?” I ask. But I already know.

“The map,” he says. “It's on the map. Black, blue, yellow, red in a circle.”

“What's next?” I can almost see it. Almost remember it.

Dad scratches his head, as if trying to dislodge the memory. “A spear through a Keeper, through the eye. Then a dark hole with a tongue. Shoot, what was it, two doors, one open? And then the waterfall. A hand curled. A circle with ten points around it. A face, eyes closed, mouth open, tears maybe. Argh—I remember them, I'm just blanking on the order.”

“What are they doing at the tunnel?” Brayden asks, pointing to the mountain.

“That's Randt,” I say, somehow sure. From here, I can only really make out a group of blue-and-yellow-clad Keepers clogging the entrance to the mountain. But I'm sure he's there. They're protecting the entrance against a wave of checkerboard-wearing Feileen Keepers.

“I see Rob and Jo and Lisa,” Dad says, and suddenly I do too. They're darting along the wall, a couple Keepers gaining on them. Jo's limping and with a sharp pain to my stomach I realize she's not going to make it.

There's a roar from the crowd of Keepers near the tunnel entrance as one, then many of them spot Lisa. A large contingent of yellow-and-blue Keepers dislodges itself from the tunnel and push their way toward their princess, just as a group of black Keepers surges toward them too.

“They want Lisa,” Dad says.

“Why?” Brayden asks.

“Randt wants her to be one of the Three. Feileen's Keepers want their own, and need to stop Randt.”

“We have to help them!” I shout, leaving our cover against the wall. Dad grabs my arm.

“No, Mia. You're not thinking straight.
Look
at them. We can't get there. No one's going to hurt Lisa. They need Lisa. If we go running into that mess we're caught too.”

I pull loose from his grasp. He's surprised, his forehead creasing up. “They're my friends, Dad. We don't just leave them. We
have
to help.”

Brayden opens his mouth to speak, and I don't want to hear him agreeing with my dad, so I don't give him a chance. I run right into the thick of things. I can hear them both calling my name, but I don't care. I'm a good hundred yards from Jo and Rob, and between me and them are dozens of fighting Keepers. I sprint, my energy fueled by desperation, swerving past lumbering figures left and right. A Keeper backs into me and I trip but I'm up again, moving fast. I can't even see where I'm going but I know they're near the tunnel, so I head that way as a marker.

I'm surrounded but alone.

And then I'm there, chaos everywhere, a crowd facing off against one another with Lisa, Jo and Rob right in the middle.

Dad pushes through next to me, puts his hands on his knees and huffs like an old man. “Mia, look!” he says, pointing to the tunnel. The remaining guards are all fighting with Feileen's Keepers. There's a clear gap to the tunnel.

“Dad, forget the source. We have to stay
alive.
”

His face sputters and he points. I turn behind me and see the spear, arcing through the air, right at me. And then I'm knocked over by a blur of movement. My head smacks the ground, buzzing my ears and dimming my vision. It all happens so quickly.

Brayden's on top of me, his face red, breathing hard. “Are you okay?”

I nod, unable to speak. I'm on my back, and all around me I see feet moving and shuffling. I see Keepers, and somewhere in the crowd I see Rob's and Jo's legs. I swear I do.

“Mia?” Brayden asks, his voice close. He hasn't gotten up from me yet and for a second I don't want him to. It's not the warmth of his body or anything like that, it's the safety of him. I'm shielded from everything down here. I look the other way, see more Keepers, more fighting. And I see Dad, lying just like me, facing me, one eye open and the other eye gone. The spear hit him instead. Right through the eye. It pushes his head down at an awkward angle. There's surprisingly little blood. Just a piece of wood sticking out of his face.

“Get off me,” I whisper desperately.

Brayden starts to shift but it's not fast enough. I push him away and crawl.

“Daddy,” I whisper, my hands shaking. I touch his chest; it's warm but doesn't move. It's like he said of the map. A spear through the eye. But he had said it would be a
Keeper's
eye, not his. He knew but he didn't.

Brayden has me by the shoulders, trying to pull me away, and when I don't move he smothers me with his body, pushing me to the ground, and I lie there, staring into my dad's face while an entire troop of Randt's men run by, some of them jumping over us, like a herd of screaming albino deer rushing through.

Brayden's shouting something at me, but I can't hear him until he physically takes my cheeks in his hand and forces my face his way.

“We need to get him to water,” he says, slowly, enunciating as if to a foreigner or an old man.

Yes,
I think dumbly, reminded of Brayden in Arcos's pool.
We need to get him to water.

The mini-aqueduct isn't too far away, lined with silver and gold. Brayden has two fists clenched into Dad's clothing and drags him along the ground. Now I see the blood, pouring from the back of his head, smearing across the ground. The spear's making it hard on Brayden, but I won't touch it. I can't. So I pick up Dad's feet. They're heavy, but there's no way I'm going to drop him.

By the time we manage to get to the aqueduct I can barely see. I have to fight down an urge to vomit. The aqueduct is about waist high and just as thick and Brayden jumps right onto it, pulling Dad up after him. Blood swirls bright, almost shining as it drains away. I wonder, fleetingly, whether this goes straight to the well in the cave.

I jump in, the water warm, and dunk Dad under, the water flowing around us, splashing over the side. Then pry open his mouth and drip some in.

“Should we pull out the spear?” I ask Brayden. I don't want to, but, like, what if the water closes the wound around the wood? What if we have to cut off the head and he's stuck with a spear shaft in his eye forever?

“That might make it worse,” Brayden says. He's got Dad's head in his hands and is making sure that the water surrounds the exit wound. He looks at me and his brown eyes are the opposite of hopeful.

I touch Dad's throat, feeling for a pulse. My finger sinks deep into his flesh. Nothing.

“He's not coming back, is he?” I ask, trying to tamp down my panic. All around me there is fighting and movement but it doesn't really penetrate the bubble I'm in.

“I don't know,” Brayden says, cupping handfuls of water over Dad's face, still trying.

“He'd hate this. He died next to the water. That's so stupid.”

“Mia.” I hear the strain in Brayden's voice, like the last thing he wants to do is say what he has to say. “We have to go. If the water's going to work, it'll work here. But it's not happening. He's dead. It's done.”

Dad didn't mean to, but he prophesied his own death. If I had known it, I could have done something. What else did he say? What else did the map tell him that he didn't understand?

“A dark hole with a tongue, the waterfall,” I mutter to myself, remembering what he said about the map. I stare at the tunnel, at the mini-aqueduct coming out of its center like a tongue. “The source.”

“What?” Brayden asks.

“The source,” I say, growing excited. “The source clearly gives Arcos and Randt more than the regular water does. And the map told of Dad's death. Maybe it tells us how to save him!”

“I don't know,” Brayden replies, dubious. “I don't think the water's supposed to bring back the dead.”

“You don't know that. You don't know that!” I scream. “Listen,” I say, desperately trying to control myself. I need him to believe me; otherwise I'm all alone. “The standard water does amazing stuff—you should have seen what you looked like. But the source is a big deal, right? Dad came down here expressly for it—why? Because he knew that he wouldn't be able to help Westbrook and Fenton without it. If regular magical healing water isn't enough, then what can the source do?”

“But you're talking about bringing people back from the dead.”

I look down at Dad, his body partly submerged, the water flowing around him and lazily carrying away his blood. We can't take him with us. We don't have time. I'll just have to hope he'll be here when I get back.

Brayden doesn't argue anymore. He takes my hand and I need more than that, so I pull him in and hug him fiercely. He's solid and real and comforting. For one second, I can ignore the Keepers fighting near where Jo and Rob are, can ignore my father's body lying next to me.

“Are you coming with me?” I ask.

“Always.”

And then we're running, right alongside the aqueduct, slipping by the distracted guards and into the tunnel. A black hole with a tongue. A cave within a cave within a cave. Dad would've loved that.