Elemental

by Antony John

  I was confused. More than that, I was scared.

  She pulled up her knees and hugged them. “It’s not an accident that I know the Guardians’ secrets. Or that I knew where the dune boxes were. Or that I can disappear and never be found.”

  A part of me wanted her to stop right there. I’d known Alice ever since she was born. Knew her as well as anyone. Perhaps better than anyone.

  “I have . . . something. It’s not an element, but I see and hear more than you. I don’t spy on people. I don’t eavesdrop, either. Honestly. I don’t need to.”

  I could barely breathe. “How?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like your binoculars. When I focus on a small point I can bring it closer, make it clearer. Even sounds rise above the noise around me. Same with my other senses.”

  “I don’t believe you. That pirate ship was a mile from the shore when we got to Hatteras and you never even saw it.”

  “I wasn’t looking for it. I was focused on the fires, and the dune boxes. I just never looked at the ocean. But when I did—”

  “You saw the flag was yellow,” I said, finishing her thought. “Then you said it was black. The rest of us couldn’t see that.” I took deep breaths, tried to make sense of everything. “How long . . .”

  “Since I was born. That’s why you could never find me at hide-and-seek. I always knew when you were coming, so I’d move.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded wrong.

  “You have another element.”

  “It’s not an element,” she whispered.

  “You never told me.”

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “How come no one else can do this?”

  She paused. “I think my mother can.”

  “You think?”

  “She tells me things—things she shouldn’t know. I think it’s her way of reassuring me I’m not alone.”

  “And what about fire?”

  “That’s the point. My real element is weak, like Griffin’s. It’s like having this other ability has diluted it.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Everyone else’s element comes from a parent. Has your mother been keeping fire a secret too?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw her rub the ends of her hair between her fingertips. Invincible Alice suddenly looked vulnerable. “No. She says the fire came from my grandmother—skipped a generation.”

  I continued to stare at the grass outside—saw nothing there. “Why are the Guardians keeping this . . . whatever it is, a secret?”

  “They’re not. My mother and I are the ones keeping it a secret.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you see? This isn’t like an ordinary element. It’s not even like Griffin’s visions. It doesn’t do the colony any good. I see and hear things I shouldn’t. Things that happen in secret. Things said in private. The Guardians have always hated me. My own father hates me. What do you think they’d do if they knew about this?”

  She reached out to take my hand, to reassure me perhaps, but at the last moment she pulled back.

  “Will you stop doing that?” My words came out fierce and hurt. “Pretending to touch me. It’s cruel.”

  She shrunk back. “You’re right. It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

  I nodded sharply, but inside, her apology grieved me. I hadn’t wanted her to say sorry—I’d wanted her to touch me again. It might have made up for all the years she’d been lying to me. It might have made me forget that she was even more different from me than I could’ve imagined. It would have given me the chance to say that I was sorry too—that she’d had to hide who she really was.

  Instead, I just stared out the window, my mind swimming with a thousand thoughts. I was so confused that it took me a while to notice the scene had changed.

  We were no longer alone.

  Three men lumbered through the grass, their silhouettes clear. They were probably no more than a couple hundred yards away. And they were headed straight for us.

  Alice dried her eyes. “They’re getting close, aren’t they?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “We need to run now,” she said with quiet urgency.

  I didn’t move. Not at first. I felt frozen, weighed down by the realization that after all these years I’d barely known Alice at all.

  She stood and rolled up the maps spread out across the table, the small piece of paper caught between them. Then she stuffed them into her tunic pocket and took off.

  Even when my legs began moving, pulling me down two hundred stairs in Alice’s wake, my mind stayed in the lantern room. Instead of focusing on escape, I was wondering if anything or anyone was real anymore.

  How could I ever know?

  CHAPTER 24

  Our footsteps sounded deafening on the staircase, relentless and rhythmic. I brushed my fingertips along the wall as we descended and hoped it was thick enough to hide the noise.

  When we reached the bottom, Alice stopped suddenly. I almost slammed into her.

  “Listen,” she said.

  At first, I heard nothing but the dying echoes of our hasty descent. Then voices, soft and distant. The men couldn’t be far away.

  “Quick. Follow me.” She dropped to all fours and shuffled across the floor toward the corridor. Then she stopped. I could see the half-open door so close by, but the men’s voices were growing louder. Even if we could have reached the door, there would have been nowhere to hide.

  “Back,” she spat. “Under the stairwell.”

  I slid over to the staircase and wedged myself into the space under the iron stairs. They were reassuringly heavy, but I could feel the holes in the grating. “They’ll see us,” I said.

  “It’s our only chance.” Alice pressed herself next to me, yet still managed to make sure we weren’t touching.

  The three men spoke over each other, their words garbled. I knew when they’d entered because their angry voices ran along the corridor and echoed around the lighthouse shaft.

  “There’s rooms here,” said one. “We should check ’em. See if there’s anything worth taking.”

  “You reckon Dare would send us to get a map if there was something better down here?” said another.

  “Maybe Dare don’t know everything—”

  “And maybe he does. Let’s ask Jossi what he thinks.”

  A grunt from a third man.

  “I’ll take that as you agreeing with me, Jossi.”

  “Then explain why he ain’t known nothing for months until now,” demanded the first man.

  “I don’t know. But he sure knew what he was doing when he sliced off Jossi’s finger.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Don’t be so damned stupid. Why do you think Dare sent the three of us out here?”

  “What do you—” The first man hesitated. “No. He can’t know about that. It was two weeks ago. We was alone, the three of us. Hell, we didn’t even promise Jossi we’d back him up. We was just listening to him, is all.”

  “But we both thought the same as Jossi, right? And I say the fact we’re here right now, just the three of us, is ’cause Dare read our minds as clear as he read Jossi’s. The only reason we still have our trigger fingers is ’cause he can’t afford to waste three riflemen. So how ’bout we find that map and get back. ’Cause if he exiles us, we’ll be dead within a week, and you both know it.”

  “Not if we’ve got the solution.”

  “That’s a big if right now.”

  Jossi spoke up again: “What’s he going to do to the kid, anyway?”

  “Whatever it takes. This is bigger than any of us. One dead boy is a small price to pay.”

  That silenced them. They approached the staircase quickly. I willed them to keep moving, and held my breath as the first man placed his foot on the step above us.

  T
hen he stopped.

  “Why was the door open?” he called out. The two men behind him stopped moving. “You know what Dare says about sealing doorways.”

  “There ain’t no problem on Hatteras.”

  “Don’t matter. It’s one of the rules. His rules.”

  “He must’ve forgotten.”

  “Dare?” The man snorted. “I don’t think so.” He paused. “Where are the sentries for this part of the island?”

  “Half a mile northwest of here. Why? You think they came in here to check it out?”

  “No, I don’t,” said the man, voice even quieter than before, almost as though he was listening for something. “They’d have been as careful as Dare himself; unless they wanted to feel the tip of his blade, that is.” He climbed another stair and took a deep breath. “I’m just saying—keep your eyes and ears open.”

  The men continued their climb, hands fumbling for the stair rail, feet agonizingly close to Alice’s arm. I counted each step. When I got to one hundred, I began to breathe easier.

  Alice leaned toward me. “Go,” she said, more breath than word.

  We slid across the floor and into the corridor. I slipped through the half-open door, and pressed myself against the rough exterior wall. Alice was right beside me. The night breeze ruffled her tunic.

  She pointed to the northwest. “We’ll head for the woods over there.”

  “That’s where the sentries are.”

  “Don’t worry about them. We’ll steer clear. Right now we’ve got to keep the moon behind us so we can’t be seen from the lantern room. Move quickly. We’ll pause at the tree line.”

  I nodded once, but before I could take a step a whistle blasted high above us. It cut through the air like a knife.

  I peered up at the top of the lighthouse. A lantern swung back and forth in the window. “They’ve raised an alarm. How do they know we’re here?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t—” Her right hand snapped against the pocket in her tunic. “It’s the map. I took the map.”

  I ran to the door. “They’re coming. I hear footsteps. We can’t outrun them.”

  Alice spun around like she was looking for something. “We may not need to. Follow me.”

  She took off at a sprint, legs flying across the grass. We were heading south now, away from our canoe and toward the moonlight. A voice from high above us rang clear through the air: “To the south. Head south!”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw two figures emerging from the lighthouse. They spied us immediately, and gave chase. We had at most two hundred yards’ head start.

  “Come on,” yelled Alice.

  She led us onto a stony trail, wide but overgrown with weeds. I never took my eyes off her.

  Another couple hundred yards and we left the path and headed into reeds. A few more steps and the ground became marshy. Then we were knee-deep in a creek.

  “Put your hands in the water,” she whispered furiously. “Feel around.”

  “For what?”

  “Something solid.”

  I didn’t ask any more questions—there wasn’t time. I just plunged my hands down and moved them around aimlessly. My feet slipped on the muddy bottom of the creek. The men grew closer.

  My knee hit it first: something hard and smooth. “Here.”

  Alice dove under the water. A moment later she resurfaced, pulling something with her. “Help me.”

  I grabbed an edge and pulled too. The object floated to the surface.

  “Take the other end. Flip it over.”

  I stood opposite her and we turned it. Even in the darkness, I could tell that it was a small canoe. But not like any I’d seen before. It wasn’t even made of wood.

  Alice jumped into the bow seat, and I took the stern. We each grabbed one of the paddles tethered to the sides, but these were different too, with blades at either end. The shaft was metal. Everything about the situation felt unreal.

  She paddled alternating left and right strokes as though she’d done it a million times before. I copied her. The desperate strokes drove us forward, but gave away our position entirely.

  “They’re on the water!” The words were followed by two loud footsteps and an enormous splash.

  “Keep paddling,” Alice screamed.

  I glanced behind me. The man was trying to run through the water, but soon it came above his knees. He was losing ground. Finally he climbed out and dove into the reeds. “This way,” he shouted to the other man. “Get back on the path.”

  We had momentum now, and our strokes were efficient. Whatever it was, the vessel moved much faster than a canoe. The water slid under us, and the creek grew wider. “Twenty yards to open water,” panted Alice.

  No sooner had she spoken than the footsteps grew louder again. It was as if they’d been running away from us, and now the path had diverted them back toward us. When one of them tripped and fell, screaming, the other didn’t stop for him.

  “Ten yards.” Alice’s voice sounded different. That’s how I knew we were in trouble.

  I saw the mouth of the creek and the open water beyond. It was so close, but so were the man’s steps. Worse than that, the path was carrying him ahead of us. His breathing was labored, but there was something eerie about those breaths, like he was laughing at us.

  Three more paddle strokes and the footsteps and breathing stopped. There was no other sound than our paddles.

  “Watch out!”

  At the last moment, I saw the reeds part, but there was nothing I could do as he leaped at me.

  I swung the paddle up and back. The edge caught his left temple cleanly. By the time I raised the paddle again, he had fallen behind us, floating on his back, not moving.

  I never saw the second man, so I couldn’t protect myself. He launched himself from the path and landed with both hands on the edge of the canoe. We tipped to the side, so Alice threw herself to the right to counterbalance his weight. We took on water.

  Before I could raise the paddle, he grasped the shaft with his left hand, yanked it free, and tossed it into the creek. Alice tried to keep paddling, but he was dead weight, as strong as an anchor. The bow tracked left toward the bank.

  I pummeled his hands with my fists, but he pulled himself up and grabbed my arm instead. I used my free hand to try to get him off me, but he had a vise-like grip.

  One dead boy is a small price to pay. The words were seared on my mind. How many others would die once I was caught? What if Griffin was the solution, not me? Would they kill him too?

  I slashed at his face and grabbed a fistful of hair. I tore my fingernails across his forehead, felt his skin coated in blood. He gritted his teeth, lips pulled back tight, and roared—an animal sound unlike anything I’d ever heard.

  I raised my foot to kick at him, but he pulled me so hard I slipped onto my back. For a moment he loosened his grip, and I kept scratching and clawing, every part of me focused on hurting him. My heart pounded, alive with uncontrolled anger.

  He took hold of me again, and this time, I latched on to his arm too. His grip was tight and painful, but so was mine. He groaned—quiet at first, but then louder. His eyes grew wide. Again he loosened his grip, but I held tight as his head began to shake. The groan shifted to a guttural cry. In the moment before he let go, his eyes rolled back suddenly, so there was nothing but ghostly white.

  Alice was paddling again—left, right, left, right. I scrabbled around, looking for my paddle, forgetting it was behind us in the creek. I tried to remember what had brought us to this place, but couldn’t. I could barely remember the man who’d wanted to kill me. Was there one man, or two? Already the details felt like distant memories I couldn’t recall. Before me, Alice’s strokes blurred together.

  I felt exhausted. I wouldn’t have been able to paddle if my life had depended on it. Now I was the dead weight.<
br />
  I looked over my shoulder at the path. Four men were running along it—or was it five?—but they were too far back to catch us. They didn’t even seem interested in giving chase. They just jumped into the water and dragged the bodies of their fallen comrades from the creek.

  “We’re clear,” I tried to say, but the words came out garbled. “They’re not . . . they . . .” I tried to focus, but I couldn’t find the words. My mouth wasn’t working anymore.

  In the next moment, I passed out.

  CHAPTER 25

  When I came to, a stiff breeze brushed against the waters of the sound, kicking up waves. Images flashed back, brought on by the pain flaring in my left arm: a man grabbing me, hurting me. And then that sound he made . . . his eyes rolling back . . .

  I tried to shake off the thought, but couldn’t. I’d wanted to hurt him, but was I really that strong? Had Alice seen it? She hadn’t said anything at the time.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “You fell asleep,” she croaked.

  Her arms still circled, dragging the paddle through the water. I noticed the blades at both ends—another discovery I couldn’t explain. The only predictable part of this was how natural she looked, even though the double-sided motion must have been new to her.

  I looked around, tried to get my bearings. I had no idea where we were. I felt guilty for having left her to navigate the sound alone. “How far to go?”

  “Three miles. We’ll be lucky to arrive before dawn.” As she said it, she picked up the pace.

  I was going to ask her how she could be so sure, but then I remembered what she’d told me in the lighthouse. No wonder her dead-reckoning skills were more accurate than everyone else’s—she was seeing her target in an entirely different way.

  Still she paddled faster, strokes like hammer blows against the water. When she stopped, she leaned over the side and dry-heaved.

  “Are you all right?” A stupid question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  She retched again. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “We could drink sound water. Just a tiny amount.”