The Torchbearers

by Ally Condie

  “Need help?” Emma picked up a hammer and attempted to twirl it, but lost her grip and dropped the tool with a loud clang. Everyone winced.

  “Um, thanks, but I’m almost done.” Logan nodded at the floorboard to his left. “I’m checking for water damage, from when the Darkdeep flooded. The last thing we need is a leak in the hull below this deck.”

  He slid the warped board aside and grabbed a brand-new one from a stack of planks he must’ve appropriated from his dad’s supply. Opal avoided looking at the opening in the floor. She’d never understood how the Darkdeep—a literal hole in the bottom of the vessel—didn’t just sink the houseboat. We have to be below the waterline down here.

  Opal shivered. Some things you didn’t question, because the answers might be too scary to contemplate.

  “What’s this?” Emma had flipped the old board over and was inspecting its underside.

  Beside them, the Darkdeep rippled suddenly. The barest hint of movement. A swirl where none had existed before.

  “Um … guys?” Opal said hesitantly.

  She glanced at Logan. He’d climbed out of the hole and was shining his phone on the plank in Emma’s hands.

  Something shimmered in the weak illumination.

  Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Tell me we found buried treasure. Or a hidden stash of adamantium.”

  Opal bit her bottom lip, squinting at the pitted slat. “Is that like a trademark of some kind? Branded into the wood?”

  Logan leaped back. The phone dropped from his shaking fingers.

  “Whoa,” Emma breathed, eyes rounding. She whipped out her own phone and shoved its light close.

  Opal gaped at the dilapidated floorboard, then at Logan, the Darkdeep’s twitch temporarily forgotten. She recognized the symbol stamped onto the plank—a pine tree with three stiff, stark branches angled out on each side. Her eyes flicked to Logan’s toolbox, and the image etched on its lid. The emblem on the floorboard was clunkier, but the similarity was undeniable. They were definitely looking at an early logo of the Nantes Timber Company.

  “It’s our mark,” Logan said, swallowing oddly. “This old plank came from the Nantes mill.”

  “Ohmygosh.” Emma clapped a hand to her mouth. “Logan, did someone in your family build this houseboat?” She pointed to a floorboard beside the ones Logan had pried up. “These all look the same. What type of wood is that? Did your company sell materials like this in the past?”

  “Who knows?” Logan shook his head irritably as Emma began snapping pics. “It’s probably just a weird coincidence. My family’s sold basically all the lumber used in this region, for, like, forever. You really can’t build anything around here without using our wood. I shouldn’t be surprised, actually.”

  “There are no coincidences!” Emma hissed. “Can you check?”

  “I might be able to find a sales history or something,” Logan said testily. “But keep in mind what we’re talking about, okay? Tracking a bunch of random planks from who-knows-how-long ago? I don’t know if people even kept records of … of”—he swung his hand in a wide arc—“wood transactions back then. I doubt it.”

  “It does confirm that the houseboat was constructed close by,” Opal pointed out, chewing on her thumb in thought. “I was never sure.” Part of her had secretly wondered whether the Torchbearer’s floating museum had been assembled in this dimension at all. That riddle, at least, was now answered. But who built the place, and when?

  Opal glanced back at the Darkdeep. Its surface had settled again, but a faint glow remained. She edged a step closer to her friends.

  “Send me those pics later,” Opal said to Emma. “You want them too, Logan?”

  Logan had slipped back into the gap and was crouching, feeling around near his feet. “Shoot. Where is my stupid phone? My dad said if I lose this one I have to buy a replacement myself.”

  “What are you standing on, anyway?” Emma asked.

  “The outer hull. The boards I was checking create a deck above it. I’m standing on the last line of—”

  Logan froze. Then he ducked down out of sight. Seconds later his hand emerged, dumping his cell phone beside the opening. But Logan didn’t rise, continuing to root around below the flooring. His muffled voice carried from below. “What in the world …”

  Emma glanced at Opal, who shrugged back.

  “There’s stuff down here!” Logan called out excitedly. A beat later a grimy metal lockbox slid up through the hole, clanking down next to Logan’s phone. It was largish and square, about the size of a breadbox, and covered in hard-crusted grime. Opal’s nose wrinkled at its moldy scent, but she felt a thrill at the same time. Maybe they really had discovered buried treasure.

  Logan’s head reappeared, covered in dust. He stood and awkwardly wriggled out of the hole, holding a worn baseball in his left hand.

  Logan slumped back on his heels, staring at the ball. He looked like he couldn’t breathe.

  “What is it?” Opal asked, eyes darting from Logan’s sheet-white face to the object clutched in his fingers.

  “This … this baseball belonged to my … m-my grandfather,” Logan managed, his face a mask of shock. “I’ve seen it before—in pictures at our hunting cabin, and around the house. He carried this thing around so much it became like a local legend. He’d hold the ball when giving speeches, or addressing everyone at the company Christmas party. Grandpa would pick it up and start tossing it to himself almost every time he left his office.”

  Logan spun the ball in his fingers and thrust it toward Opal. “Look—see that long scuff down the side, between the stitching? Grandpa’s story was that Babe Ruth hit this clear out of Yankee Stadium on his only trip to the East Coast. According to him, it bounced right into his hand as he was walking down the street.” Logan gazed down at the ball, his expression a mix of wonder and horror. “When I was little, I’d search for this baseball in any picture of him I came across. And it was always there, like a lucky charm. I wondered where it went after he died.” His head whipped to Opal, eyes wide. “How can this be here?”

  Opal opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She had no idea.

  Logan pivoted abruptly and set the ball aside. He grabbed the metal box and yanked roughly on its blackened latch, but the lid wouldn’t budge.

  “Logan, hold on.” Emma eased the container from his white-knuckled grip and wiped a layer of grime from its face. An old-fashioned combination lock appeared, the kind with dials you have to align into the proper numerical sequence. “This is like a portable safe. Pretty heavy, too. I bet it’s made of steel. We might have to cut through the lock with a butane torch to get inside. I think my parents sell them at the shop, though!”

  Opal felt a strange anticipation building in her gut. “What would the Torchbearers have felt like they needed to hide on their own houseboat?”

  “What do you mean, Torchbearers?” Logan snapped. His cheek was twitching spastically.

  “Well …” Opal looked somewhat surprised. “Who else would have put those things down here?”

  Logan shook his head once, hard. Then he snatched one of the loose floorboards, put it back in place, and started pounding nails into their former holes, his mouth set in a rigid line. Opal wasn’t sure if he’d completed his inspection, but finding that baseball had clearly rocked Logan’s world. He seemed completely shaken to find something so familiar in such an otherworldly location.

  I would be, too.

  “Logan,” Opal said quietly.

  He didn’t respond, finishing with the first board and moving to the second.

  Opal reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. Logan tensed, his eyes squeezing shut. The hammering abruptly ceased.

  “We have to find out how the ball got down there. You know that, right?”

  He pulled away. Logan rose stiffly, lifting the box and holding it tightly to his chest, ignoring the dirty streaks it left on his work shirt. He took a deep breath. “I … I’ll look into it, okay?” A beat passed, th
en, “Just don’t say anything to Nico or Tyler yet. Not until I … until I know more.”

  “Sure, Logan.” Emma shot a worried glance at Opal, who made a calming-hands gesture back at her friend. Emma nodded doubtfully.

  There was a splash behind them. All three kids spun.

  A thin stream of black liquid was arcing up from the center of the Darkdeep. The flow remained steady for a moment, filling the room with a deep, earthy scent, before it faded to nothing and the well stilled. Then a huge expulsion of sour air bubbled up through the water, roiling its surface before fading with a hiss.

  Silence filled the room. Opal found she couldn’t break it. The eruption had reminded her of … what? A geyser? She didn’t know a lot about geology, but that’s what it looked like.

  A memory of the Rift explosions knifed into her thoughts. Opal felt a twinge of panic.

  “Oh, man.” Logan ran a hand over his eyes. “That can’t be good.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Emma whispered. “Why is the Darkdeep burping?”

  5

  NICO

  A textbook struck the locker next to Nico’s.

  He jumped backward in surprise as the book thunked heavily to the floor, pages scattering from a broken spine. A shriek of outrage reverberated down the hall, along with the dull thud of a knee connecting with … something.

  Nico turned to see Carson, face green, keeling over at Megan Cook’s feet. He made a weird moaning gurgle that turned Nico’s stomach. Parker was hastily backing away from Megan, holding her backpack out in front of him in what looked like surrender. Megan snatched it from his fingers and stormed down the hall. Stares and whispers dogged her every step. Despite the clear “a-fight-just-happened” sounds, no teachers emerged from their classrooms.

  Timbers Middle School was teetering on the brink.

  Emma appeared beside Nico, kicking the broken textbook aside as he closed and spun his lock. “Do I even wanna know what that’s about?” he asked with a weary sigh.

  “Carson and Parker are attempting to search people’s bookbags,” Emma explained matter-of-factly. “They’re checking for ‘monster-attracting devices,’ apparently. In the courtyard this morning, Carson said he’s going to flush out any demon-kids who might’ve summoned the attack on Dark Halloween.”

  Nico shook his head. “And Megan?”

  “Had no interest in having her things examined.”

  “She made that pretty clear.”

  “Indeed. Carson threw her math book as a warning, but he misread the situation.”

  Nico squeezed his nose. “Carson ran into me and Logan on the beach during the figment attack. He witnessed us battling that sphinx monster, right before the Beast showed up. So why are he and Parker wasting time messing with Megan?”

  Emma laughed dryly. “I guess they’re leaving no stone unturned. Hopefully all stones will be as difficult as she was.”

  Nico nodded in a distracted manner. Emma didn’t miss it.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her big blue eyes clouding with concern. “You were quiet all through Biology.”

  Nico slumped back against his locker. “I might as well tell you. My dad’s transfer is officially official. We’re moving to Portland in January.”

  Emma gasped. “Nico, no!”

  He nodded, a wave of heat rushing to his face. “It’s true.”

  Emma was about to say more when a wadded paper ball struck her in the forehead. Someone in the hallway shouted, “Down with traitors!”

  Nico whirled, anger hot and ready, but the anonymous missile-chucker had already slipped away. Students moved in tight-knit groups down the corridor, eyes roving for threats. The book club guys—Ryker Harrison, Phoenix Payson, and Carter Bradshaw—zoomed by with their heads down and shoulders hunched. Dallen Brynner and Kayden Hepworth were huddled in a corner, recording everyone with their phones.

  Paranoia infused the air. Nico thought Timbers Middle might be the epicenter of freaking out for the entire town. The place was ready to explode.

  Emma grabbed his arm. “Let it go, Nico. I’m fine. It’s just paper.”

  “What is going on these days?” Nico growled, still searching for the culprit.

  Emma shrugged, then dropped her voice. “People are scared. Remember, some of these kids actually saw the Beast. They weren’t prepared for it like we were. The fact that they’re panicking makes perfect sense.”

  “What’s that about the Beast?” Tyler asked, sidling up to them as the crush of students in the hall began to thin. He eyed Emma with suspicion.

  Emma gave him a level look. “We were discussing how kids in this school are on the verge of melting down, and that it’s a pretty reasonable reaction given what happened. Where have you been, anyway?”

  “I had to miss first period.” Tyler frowned sheepishly, rubbing his mouth. “My mom has me talking to this doctor-lady twice a month. It’s fine—she’s nice. But I’m pretty sure if I tell her the whole truth, it won’t turn out well. Like, I’ll-live-in-my-pajamas-at-a-hospital not well.”

  “When did you start therapy?” Emma asked curiously. “There’s zero wrong with that, by the way. Talking is good.”

  “I’ve been going since the day Freakshow aired their last episode.” He flashed a wry grin at Emma. “You and I have been best friends forever. When my parents saw that you were starring in the series, they decided I must’ve had something to do with it, too. They were … concerned. I’ll use that word.”

  Emma winced. “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’m not allowed inside Mr. Harvey’s A/V shop anymore. He chases me away every time I pass his store window. He called me a ‘carpetbagging opportunist,’ which I had to look up. It’s not a compliment.”

  Tyler snorted. “Not sure why that should make me feel better. And don’t act like it’s all been bad. You’ve been getting free ice cream from Mr. Taylor any time you ask.”

  Emma smiled wickedly. “He wants me to film a scene inside his shop. Free advertising.”

  They were interrupted by Opal joining them. “The bell’s in two. Something up I should know about?”

  Emma’s face fell. She shot a troubled glance at Nico, who looked away.

  “Um, Nico has som—”

  “Guys! Guys!”

  Logan was streaking down the hallway, waving madly. He reached them in a wild rush, jostling into Tyler and Opal. Nico tensed. One of his fists slammed down by his side, striking the locker behind him.

  Emma shot Nico a confused look, then her eyes widened. She edged between the two boys.

  “You’re not going to believe this!” Logan was trying to catch his breath. Opal watched him with rapt attention, which somehow made Nico even more angry.

  “Opal and Emma already know,” Logan wheezed, “but on the houseboat yesterday, we found an old combination safe and a baseball that used to belong to my grandfather.”

  “Wait, what?” Tyler squawked.

  The hall had totally cleared. The bell could ring at any moment, but no one moved.

  “I was pulling up warped boards in the Darkdeep chamber—to check for water damage—and we saw a plank with our logo on it. Nantes Timber, I mean. The stuff was underneath it, in the crawl space between the floor and the hull.” Logan was talking rapidly, his words tumbling on top of one another. “I was pretty freaked out, so I took everything home and checked the ball against some old family photos. It’s the same one. There’s no question.”

  “What about the lockbox?” Opal asked.

  “Wouldn’t open,” Logan replied. “But I’m sure I can figure it out eventually.”

  Scowling, Nico opened his mouth to say something scathing, but Emma grasped his forearm. His glare swung to her. “Just wait,” she whispered. “This might be important.”

  Nico tensed, but he held his tongue. The others seemed to miss the exchange.

  “Once I was sure,” Logan carried on, “I started thinking about that particular logo. Like, when did the company start using it? Coul
d I narrow down the year? So I went to my dad’s office and started rooting around. And found this!” Logan flourished a folded piece of paper that had been stuffed in his pocket.

  Opal eyed the crumpled document. “And that is …”

  “A purchase order,” Logan said proudly. “For lumber sufficient to construct one custom-designed houseboat, delivery to be made locally. The details were only recorded in the company president’s private business ledger. In this case, by my great-grandfather.”

  Everyone was stunned to silence, including Nico.

  Finally, Emma spoke. “Who took delivery, Logan?”

  Logan beamed with delight. “A man named Spartan Hale.”

  Tyler slapped both hands to his head. “His last name was Hale? No chance he’s not related to Roman!”

  “Has to be!” Logan crowed in triumph. “And since Roman Hale was the houseboat’s final caretaker—and the last member of the Order before us—it means I found a clear link to the Torchbearers!”

  Logan’s bragging smile was more than Nico could stand. “Boy, you Nantes jerks think you’re so freaking great!” he shouted, startling everyone. He shouldered past Emma to stand eye-to-eye with Logan.

  Overhead, the bell rang. No one reacted.

  “Huh?” Logan blinked at Nico. He actually looked hurt. “Nico, my great-grandfather helped build the houseboat, and my granddad must’ve actually gone aboard at some point, even down the hidden staircase. He could’ve seen the Darkdeep! I think that’s pretty important.”

  Nico’s lips curled into a snarl. “You think your stupid family matters more than anything else. It’s all you care about.”

  Logan stared. “Dude, what are you talking about?”

  “Nico’s dad got transferred,” Emma blurted, snaking around Nico and dodging his incensed look. “To Portland. They leave next semester.”

  Nico felt Tyler’s hand grip his shoulder. Opal was gaping at him, mouth rounded in shock.

  His eyelids began to burn.