“Your uncle,” the stranger said without missing a beat. She watched for Lark’s reaction but Lark was only confused.
“My uncles died. They got the virus—”
“No, no,” Octavia said and she moved a finger back and forth, a smirk forming. “Even all the Children of the Lake know this. The King children lived…Harper is in contact with them.” Lark’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, really? You never suspected?”
Octavia laughed and Lark’s face fell.
“I want to go home,” she replied. Now she knew she was going to be sick. Could she remember her way back down the mountain? Lark grabbed her backpack and checked her pocket once again for her crank light and then bounded up and out of the cave and into the night. It was freezing and her shoes weren’t good for long distances, but she didn’t even care as she tore through the vegetation and swampy path to high tail it back to her Colony.
She heard Octavia’s taunting cackle echo down the path after her, but she also heard footsteps, so she quickened her pace and tried to create more distance between herself and the stranger, with the strange machine and her picture of a man. A man named Ethan.
“Larkspur,” the stranger called after her but Lark ignored it.
But when she slowed at the edge of the path to determine which way would lead her back down the mountain, the skinny, ratty girl caught up.
She stood a few feet away and stared as Lark struggled with the crossroads, lost, and growing colder.
Lark wiped her cheeks, but she hadn’t realized she’d started crying. She bit back the rest of her tears and stayed still, and grabbed on to the straps of her backpack, uncertain of what was safe and what wasn’t. She wanted to run home but she also wanted to run away from home—she didn’t know where to go or who to trust.
Lark shuddered.
“I don’t know what to believe,” she offered with pure honesty.
“You can trust me. I was sent here from Ethan…your uncle…”
“My uncle died. My mom went to school that day and the virus was released and—”
“Not just Ethan, either. You have three others…uncles. All spread out in the Caribbean…Galen, Malcolm, Monroe…”
“Those kids are dead. My mom and my dad stayed holed up in the school with their best friend and she died…Darla rescued them…”
The girl dipped her head, her mess of hair didn’t move. “His home is the Bayou.”
“The Bayou,” Lark repeated. She didn’t want to give the stranger the satisfaction of her curiosity, but she was out of options. She had no idea what that was. She turned and breathed out and watched as her air floated away into the night. “The man, Elijah, was from the Bayou—”
“I won’t stop you from going back home,” the stranger offered. She pointed to the right, offering up the path. “You’re Octavia’s collateral, not mine. But you come from strong stock, Lark, and your family would welcome you back. You should come with us.”
“Back? My home is here and my family is here.” She took a tentative step to the right, positioning herself to run. She knew the Lodge and all its walled trickery; she could hide from the Fathers with seconds to spare—and she wondered if she truly knew the way or if adrenaline alone was enough to carry her.
“You have family in the Bayou, too. It could be your home. Not permanently, but…your family deserves…”
“My uncles, right,” Lark whispered and she shook her head. “No—”
“And your grandma.”
And at that suggestion, Lark laughed with both fear and derision. All her doubt dried up and she realized the stranger was a liar and a manipulator. Her grandmother?
“Nice try, but my grandmother lived here. She started the Colony…I have some old pictures of her…real ones….not like your magic or whatever. And she died when I was a kid and we had a whole thing for her…there’s flowers on a…we do a whole yearly…”
But as Lark talked, the stranger pulled out her metal bot again and after a small delay brought up another picture of an older woman and Ethan. The two of them sat on a dock, their feet in the water, this time Ethan’s stump visible and exposed. Despite the years, it was clearly Grandma Maxine.
“No. My grandma died,” Lark tried again. She closed her eyes and now, despite the snow, her body felt hot and her ears rang tinny and loud.
“This must seem so surreal,” the runaway offered. Lark wanted to reach out and touch the scars on her arms and her face and ask her where she got them. She wanted to understand how her entire world could implode in one day. “We never meant for you to learn like this…”
“We,” she repeated. “What? No. I just, you know, I need to go home. I’m sure there’s an explanation. My grandma…”
“She’s alive. I met her. And she’d very much like to see you again.”
If Lark wanted to respond, she wasn’t given the chance.
From somewhere in the distance, a round of deafening booms rocked through the air. Explosions dotted the landscape, little mushrooms of orange and red, and before Lark or the runaway could move, Octavia sprinted out of the cave, and the three of them stood in a line, eyes wide.
They were under attack.
Lark watched as the area around Jackson Lake began to smolder, flooded with fire from an unknown enemy—the one in the sky, the one she’d always been warned about. Her teeth began to chatter and she swung her head to see if anyone else was concerned. Octavia raged; the stranger was impassive.
“Who—”
“Change of plans,” Octavia said between clenched jaws. She nodded to the chaos and turned to the cave, all jollity from earlier, gone. “We gotta go now. In the chaos and smoke. When they look at images, it’ll be impossible to see. Come on. Come on.” She spun her gun on the stranger and motioned down the path. “You know the way?” The runaway nodded and off they went together, a mess of energy and limbs.
Before Lark had a chance to decline the invitation to join them, Octavia grabbed her by the arm and marched her down the mountain as a second wave of planes poured over the sky in a rush of noise and death.
“Hurry,” Octavia called over the noise.
“What are we doing?” Lark asked.
The runaway tilted her head to look at them and then roared, “We’re gonna go fly.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Former Island of Dominica
KOZO
The kayak bounced in the waves but made little headway once it began to hit the open ocean. The tide pushed him toward the sand and after working against the waves, his arms grew tired and he stopped.
The mechanical bees followed him halfway and hovered, but Kozo couldn’t hear the buzzing over the ocean. He knew he’d need to abandon the kayak and find a more efficient escape. With that in mind, Kozo shifted his attention back to shore and worked his way toward the sand.
When he reached land, he kept the oar but abandoned the kayak to the salty sea. The bees darted in his direction and Kozo took the oar and swung it at the direction of the buzzing. The bees began their familiar dance: Up the metal ball flew, out of reach, while another dove down in a new location. He spun as if tethered to a pole, and as he followed the sound he anticipated an attack was imminent.
As another swam made its way forward, the bees plopped down from the sky and then froze.
All the bees within his field of vision now hovered in the sky and bounced in the morning wind, abjectly floating for a few moments before they lifted off. Gone. Oar still in hand, Kozo wandered a few steps and peered up the sandy dune to see if perhaps there was a larger threat looming.
Instead, he saw Ethan.
The man stood and fired a strange contraption toward the sky. To Kozo, it appeared that he was holding a long black broom surrounded with coil attached to a complicated weapon. Ethan’s eye disappeared behind a magnified viewfinder and when a new wave of bees arrived, they also stopped, hovered, and flew off.
When Ethan was certain the bees were gone, he waved Kozo up to him and nodded
with a proud smirk.
“Good morning,” the man replied without explanation for his departure without warning earlier that day. He pointed the coiled end of his machine to the ground. “Good day to fight some tiny machines, no?”
Kozo shook his head. “Oh. Maybe.”
“It’s a ray gun,” Ethan added, apropos of nothing.
“A what?” Kozo asked.
“It’s not impressive if you don’t know what a ray gun is,” Ethan replied with a laugh. “When I was a kid, ray guns were science-fiction. But wouldn’t ya know? Scientists don’t like being told something can’t be done…so, here it is. Fights those things in the sky. It can tell what the drones are following and that appears to be you. So, the good news is we’ve finally discovered the problem. The bad news is that if you’re how the Islands are following us… then I’m definitely going to kill you with this ray gun.”
Ethan lifted the coiled broom again and pointed the ray gun at Kozo.
Without letting Kozo reply or argue for his life, he hit the gun’s trigger and a blast of bright blue energy burst forth and hit him in the shoulder. Kozo felt a small jolt, nothing big enough to hurt him, only to confuse and startle him.
He shook his head and rubbed the spot, wondering what the hell had happened.
“What did you do?” Kozo asked, afraid. The spot on his kimono singed and burned.
“Oh shit. Did that hurt you?” Ethan asked and he moved forward, his face concerned. “Oh man. I didn’t know it could hit you. I thought it was…invisible power, or something…” Ainsley appeared from the brush, winded and red-faced and she got to Kozo first, examining the small burn on his kimono and the small dot of red on his shoulder.
“Don’t point that thing at people!” Ainsley barked at him. “You burned him!”
“He said he was going to kill me,” Kozo reminded her as if he was ready for it just to be over with and done.
“He was being an asshole. He isn’t going to kill you.”
“He said the drones are following me—”
“He was lying,” Ainsley nodded and she patted the small burn and pressed her hand against the singe. “It’s a battle wound. Almost burned by a ray gun, fun fact for your resume. Look, he’s part-hero, part-child.”
“I’m sorry!” Ethan called. He lugged the giant weapon upon his shoulder. “I honestly didn’t think it would do anything other than stop the bees…”
“How did you get them to leave?” Kozo asked.
“The ray gun,” Ethan answered.
“Be more specific, darling. Ray guns are still the thing of fiction where Kozo comes from.”
“Japan?”
“Oh, you’re impossible,” Ainsley mumbled. But Ethan got what he wanted; she stepped in and explained instead, relinquishing him from the responsibility. “Military grade…bigger than sin. We found them when we broke into a military base in the former America. The schematics were there, explaining its use, next to the decayed uniforms scattered throughout. Anyway, I imagine the size was something they would fix in future designs. But hey, even the secret soldiers at that base didn’t make it out of the virus.”
“The gun stops drones,” Ethan added to Ainsley’s explanation. “Interferes with whatever system sent them through soundwave technology. These bees…are now equipped with sensors to head home…that’s new. Before we’d blast them and they’d hover until they fell. Going home is not good for us…I don’t like what that means.”
Ethan looked abundantly pleased with himself.
He continued, “Scientists on the Islands finally figured out about my ray gun, those bastards. We bought time, I guess, swatting them down and dissecting them before they inserted the software update to bring them home.”
Kozo was lost. None of the words made sense to him.
“The planes you saw dropped new ones,” Ainsley said and winced. “Didn’t have to do with the kid at all…they’ve tracked down where their machines are going missing…”
Ainsley shot an apologetic look to Kozo but didn’t elaborate on why they left him in the jungle.
“Which means…”
“They know you’re here.” Kozo understood. “We’re here.”
“Well,” Ethan answered and tossed his head. He looked to the sky to follow the trajectory of the long-gone drones. “Yeah.”
“And they’ll be back. To kill you?”
Ainsley and Ethan pondered and waited for each other to nod in tandem. She grimaced and he shrugged.
“That’s what they do,” Ethan answered. He adjusted the giant gun on his back and widened his stance. Kozo noticed Ethan had a different leg, something a bit more athletic and practical which meant he’d ditched his toeless wonder somewhere else.
“We need to leave,” Ainsley said. “We have to head to land and follow through with our next stage, Ethan.” She ignored Kozo’s eager anticipation and looked straight at her partner. “I think this means she’s expanding the Bermuda Project, and if we don’t act now, it will be an unstoppable force…without hope. We don’t have the power to go against multiple threats. If the Bermuda Project stays on Bermuda…we have a shot.”
Ethan nodded, frowned, and blew Ainsley a robotic kiss, her eyes telling a story Kozo didn’t fully know or understand. “Right,” he said. “Jesus, why couldn’t they just live in their castles and leave the rest of us alone?” he asked rhetorically and then he turned to Kozo.
“I didn’t know that would hurt you,” Ethan said. He didn’t look Kozo in the eye.
Kozo realized he meant it as an apology.
He nodded an acceptance.
“When you’ve been out here as long as me…” Ethan trailed off, trying to think of what exactly he wanted to say. He never came back to the thought, and he clapped Kozo on the shoulder. “Life feels…because you say goodbye to a lot of people…it feels…”
Ainsley stepped up and put her arm around Ethan’s waist and tugged him away from Kozo.
“Here are your choices,” she offered him. “We’re on a pretty tight mission. If the Islands know about the people hiding on our turf down here, it’s time to implement our alarm system. You are welcome to get a boat and head to land on your own…or you can come with us, help us set the alarm, and stay with us as we head back to our home base for a bit.”
Land. On his own. Wasn’t he on land? Kozo squinted.
Ethan added, “If you stay with us. I’ll put you to work, but—”
The decision was easy; he didn’t want to be alone—and he’d never felt more alone. “I’ll stay with you,” he replied. “I work hard.”
“Good, good,” Ethan said. “Now, let’s go burn this whole thing down.”
Kozo didn’t know if he meant literally or figuratively, but either way, he was ready.
Chapter Eighteen
Spa weekend on Arkuha Island
THEA
How could anyone else plan Amira’s courtship progress and annual girl’s weekend but the proud and elated aunt-of-the-maybe-bride?
Blair took it upon herself to safeguard the entire itinerary and filled it with representation of only the finest Arukah had to offer. That the weekend coincided with Arjana’s desired conference with Blair was inconsequential.
Her mom was never far from mixing business with pleasure, as the pleasure of drama was also her business.
Back at the day spa, shut down for the day from everyone minus Truman guests, Thea was glad her mother reminded the owners to steer them away from the foot soak room where the tea-terrorist attacked her and subsequently turned her into a Kymberlin laughing-stock. She knew people laughed about it behind her back—joked about her reaction. And she would have to play her part because Huck forbade news of dissent.
Everyone at the event must have been warned not to make light of the tea situation because the group awkwardly avoided the topic, even snickering when one of the attendants offered to bring some for them to drink, and Blair snapped her fingers and said, “I was already promised the finest sake. T
hat’s better right?” And no one disagreed.
The spa that day was a veritable collection of the Islands more elite families. It was said that everyone on the Islands was equal—egalitarian laws were the biggest takeaways from the failed politics of the Old World where people had equality in name only—but they could not avoid humans need for ingrained hierarchy.
The Trumans were happy to oblige all bourgeoisie tendencies.
Huck created the world and he felt owed to its entitlements. After all, he’d taken on the biggest risk and produced for his people the ultimate reward: protection from death, from annihilation.
When the sake arrived on a shiny plate, the attendant placing the small ceramic cups into the women’s hands, Blair slid her body forward and raised her glass in the air. “To Amira,” she said. “Whose courtship grows and whose wide smile tells the story we all want to hear…about your love, the Maverick James. Cheers!” And everyone clinked together in joy before they settled back with their eyes on Amira, expecting her to dish in the way one did around friends. Only, Amira appeared uncomfortable.
“Oh!” her cousin said sheepishly. She put her hand over her mouth and swallowed her sake then put her hand back in her lap. “I didn’t know I was expected to share…”
“That’s why we’re here, darling!” Blair said with a laugh. She was turning on the full charm—Thea loved it. Her mother, all manipulation and no emotion, could make people feel like the sun shone upon them. She recalled names of long-dead grandmothers and pulled forth details of past conversations with ease. She liked to make people feel like they were special.
She used the trust in her to find a weakness—like water slipping around the bottom of a boat, looking for a way to help it sink. And just like water, Blair was only acting out her nature—doing what she’d been shown and taught worked inside the world that belonged to her. It worked, that was true.
“Oh, I don’t have much to share,” Amira demurred. She set her empty glass down on the table in front of them. “He’s been a perfect gentleman so far.”
The Bedrock Page 22
