Elemental

by Antony John

  “You make it sound easy,” said Tessa. “There’ll be pirates on board, remember?”

  “Didn’t look like it. Dare took the rope ladder with him when they left. Anyway, none of the pirates will stay aboard during a hurricane.”

  “You don’t think they’ll protect their vessel?”

  “Why would they? They don’t need it anymore. You said this is their new home now.”

  Rose looked at the sky. “Even if we get our parents ashore, then what?”

  “They’ll be alive. They can help us. Isn’t that enough?”

  “What makes you think the pirates won’t come after us when they see what we’re doing?” pressed Tessa. “They have boats too. Besides, we’ll need several journeys to bring everyone ashore.”

  “Trust me—you’ll have all the time you need.”

  “Why? Because it’s getting dark?”

  “No. Because they’ll be too busy chasing the solution.”

  In the silence that followed, I turned to Griffin and signed that we’d be running from the pirates. Without hesitation, he nodded, just as I knew he would.

  “What are you talking about?” cried Rose.

  “Griffin and I will create a diversion. As long as Dare sees us on the island, he’ll chase us. It’s the solution he wants, not you.”

  “And he’ll capture you both,” shouted Alice. “Forget it.”

  “No.” I tried to sound calm, although I was already panicking inside. “We’ll have a head start. Plus, it’ll be hard for him to see us in the dark.”

  “Not hard. Impossible.”

  “Not if I take the lantern. When we’re a safe distance away, I’ll illuminate it. Dare will see our faces. At the same time, Tessa can take one of the sailboats to the ship and start getting the Guardians ashore. Alice, you take the other boat, and head for the gap in the bridge. That’s as far as Griffin and I will be able to go. When we get to the gap, we’ll shout down to you. Then we’ll jump.”

  “It’s too high.”

  “Says the girl who did the exact same thing four strikes ago.”

  Tessa shook her head vehemently. “You can’t possibly expect Alice to hold a sailboat steady in this weather.”

  “I expect more than that. I expect her to rescue us the moment we hit the water. Because if she can’t do it, then no one can.”

  Alice huffed. “And if I rescue you, then what?”

  “We head for the ship and shuttle the Guardians ashore.”

  She glanced at the sky and frowned. “I hope we get that chance.”

  * * *

  Tessa led me into the shelter. “I don’t like this.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s too big a fall from the bridge. You could be killed.”

  “We’ll be all right. And the water’s choppy, which will help. Anyway, Alice jumped into much shallower water.”

  “That’s not the point. You’ll be jumping from twice as high as she did.” She picked up the lantern. “You really believe Alice will find you at the gap?”

  “I know she will.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Tessa rubbed her eyes. “I honestly didn’t know they’d leave your parents on board.” She emphasized the word honestly as though she expected me to doubt her. “The sacrifice of few for the good of many, I suppose.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just a saying I heard once.”

  Tessa placed a cloth over my hand and passed me the lantern. The material stopped it from illuminating so strongly, but the light was still there. I folded the cloth and experimented with different thicknesses. The lantern grew dimmer each time I doubled it up, but although there was less discomfort, I still felt fatigued. Finally, I placed it on the ground. I needed to save my energy.

  “How did you power the lantern in the clinic?” I asked her. “For me to find, I mean.”

  “I was wondering when you’d ask that. There’s a solar panel on the roof of the clinic—it’s a device that takes energy from the sun and turns it into power. It barely works anymore, but it’s strong enough for a lantern.”

  I thought about this. “Is that what I do? Transfer energy from the sun?”

  “Who knows? Our elements have evolved over time, but yours is the newest. No one really understands it yet. That’s why the Guardians tried to hide it from you. All of us fear things we don’t understand, or can’t explain.”

  “You could’ve told me, though. You’ve been living so close to the colony. You could’ve just stopped me one day when I was alone.”

  Tessa ran her fingers over my hair, the touch so light she was almost stroking air. “They exiled me for suggesting that you know the truth. Imagine what they’d have done if I told you myself.” Her hand stopped moving. “Pirates aren’t the only killers on this island, Thomas. Believe me, your Guardians have blood on their hands. I didn’t want it to be mine.”

  I handed her the portrait I’d found of my mother. “It’s time to go. Will you look after this for me?”

  “Sure.” She unfolded it gently and stared at the image. It seemed to stir something in her. She ran a finger over it as if she could somehow feel her daughter’s skin. “She always told me he’d be the solution, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “Griffin.” She wiped a tear away. “Before he was born, that’s what she called him.”

  “But . . . you said you didn’t know who it was.”

  “I was lying. I just didn’t want the others to know. You have support here—two girls who’ll do anything to save you. I wasn’t sure they’d do the same for Griffin.”

  I didn’t know what to make of this news. But I was more determined than ever that Dare wouldn’t lay a finger on the solution.

  “I never really understood what your mother meant about a solution, Thomas. Probably wouldn’t have believed it anyhow. But now . . .” She shook her head. “Your mother was willing to die for him. You have to keep him alive.”

  “I will,” I said. “No matter what.”

  * * *

  We said our good-byes as the first drops of rain fell. Looking into Alice’s eyes I knew that she was frightened—for herself, but even more for Griffin and me. I could see it in the way she glanced at his right leg, wondering if he’d be able to make it as far as the gap in the bridge, let alone get there before the pirates. The same thing had occurred to me. Choosing when to take the lantern from him and illuminate it would be critical.

  Just before she left, Alice took Griffin’s pack. “You don’t need extra weight.”

  He closed his precious leather books and placed them gently inside.

  “The sailboats have a small waterproof hold,” she said. “The bags will stay dry.”

  “Thank you.” I looked at the sky. “You sure you can handle this weather?”

  Alice held up her hands, dotted with thick white calluses. “I’m looking forward to trying.”

  It was a typically defiant response. I might have found it amusing under other circumstances, but not now. “How come your hands look like that? You don’t get much more time in canoes than me.”

  “I rub sand between my hands to toughen up the skin. My sister thinks it’s disgusting.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” I said, which made her smile. “What about your parents?”

  “My father thinks it’s proof that I’m weird. But sometimes I catch my mom winking at me. I think she likes it that I’m not the same as Eleanor.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Alice looked over my shoulder at Tessa’s retreating figure. Or maybe she was looking at Rose, lingering several yards away, waiting for the moment when we’d be alone.

  “I’ll be there, Thom. At the bridge. I promise I will.”

  As she turned from me, her fingers brushed against mine. Then she limped away.


  Rose approached, biting her lip. “I need you to know, the reason I kept quiet about your echo wasn’t because the Guardians told me to. It just never occurred to me that’s what it was: an echo. I was afraid it was your element—that you had the ability to cause pain.”

  I flinched. “How could that be an element?”

  “I don’t know. But I think we’re starting to realize there’s a lot we don’t understand. Anyway, that’s why I never said anything. I didn’t want to give you a reason to pull away from me.”

  “I know that now.”

  She glanced at our hands, so close but not touching. Perhaps we’d never touch. “Do you realize how exciting this is? Starting today, you get to discover what you can do.”

  “As long as we survive, you mean.”

  The wind snapped her vest, but her braid barely moved. “Yes. I guess that’s true.”

  We stood in silence. The others were already a hundred yards away. “You should go.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded. “Hold out your hand first.”

  I did as she said, and she reached out so that our fingertips were only a hairsbreadth apart. I imagined I could feel her heartbeat pulsing through the air. I could feel mine too, getting steadily faster, and I knew I had to calm down. But I couldn’t calm down.

  Then we touched.

  I felt the warmth, the energy, the power between us. It shifted like a living, breathing force. I let it fill my body until I wanted to explode in delight. And through it, Rose smiled. She smiled.

  But the smile was all wrong—determined and fierce. And when she began to moan, I knew I was hurting her. There was no pleasure in this. The energy only seemed to go one way. And I’d seen firsthand where that exchange could lead.

  I pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

  For a moment, I thought she was going to tell me that it was all right—there was no need to apologize. But then she seemed to think better of it. And when she stared at her feet, I knew there would be no more lies between us.

  “Me too,” she said. “More than you know.”

  CHAPTER 37

  I watched them disappear among the trees. Tessa stood in the middle, the cat right beside her. Rose and Alice stood on either side, as separate from each other as they could be. Everything about them was opposite: their hair; their gait; Alice’s fierce independence, and Rose’s tight grip on her younger brother’s hand.

  Griffin began walking the other way. I followed.

  Me. Afraid, I signed.

  He shook his head and smiled. Me. No. He studied my expression. I. See. Four. Death, he signed, referring to Rose and Dennis’s grandparents, whose boat capsized; and John, the boy who fell from the rope swing; and Lora, I hoped. Four. Death, he repeated. Me. Never. Dead.

  Somehow I’d never considered what he felt when he foresaw someone’s death. I’d just witnessed what those visions had done to him—how they’d left him broken and unable to communicate. What if he’d seen death itself, the actual moment when life ends? Was he destined to see his own end the same way?

  We pressed on toward the mainland bridge. Weeds rose stubbornly from cracks in the road. Every hundred steps I glanced back to see if the pirates had entered Skeleton Town, but there was no sight of them. Darkness was falling fast, accelerated by angry clouds that seemed to suffocate the sky, and rain that grew heavier by the moment.

  Another hundred strides. And another, but still no sign of the pirates. We were onto the mainland bridge now—so much longer than the one between Roanoke and Hatteras—and as I pictured the pirates landing their cutters close to Alice’s boathouse, a terrible thought crossed my mind: What if they’d taken a shortcut to Skeleton Town through the woods and marsh, instead of the easier, longer route by road? It seemed impossible, given how much the pirates were carrying, but maybe Dare knew our plan. He was a seer, after all. Maybe he’d had a vision. What if he’d already intercepted Alice and Rose?

  I stared at the coastline to the south. The pirate ship peeked out from the bay where Dare had lowered anchor, but I couldn’t see around to the boathouse. There were no signs of our sailboats on the water either.

  Stop, I signed. None. Pirates.

  Griffin signaled that we keep moving.

  Wait. I walked to the railing at the side of the bridge. I couldn’t get a great view of Skeleton Town, so I leaned out farther. It was already dark enough that I could barely make out the sound frothing below us. The only light in the sky came from the dying embers of the sunset.

  Griffin glared at me. We. Move.

  But we couldn’t move—not if we weren’t being followed; and if the pirates weren’t even entering Skeleton Town, they couldn’t possibly follow us. If that happened, the others stood no chance of getting the Guardians ashore.

  I glimpsed a dot of light emanating from Skeleton Town. It was so tiny that I thought I’d imagined it, but when I saw it again I guessed what it might be: a reflection of the purple-red sky on Dare’s telescope lens.

  Relief flooded over me. Our plan might still work. I pushed back from the railing and signaled for us to keep moving. A few strides later I looked back, and relief gave way to fear.

  The pirates were lighting torches, one after another. When they had about ten lit, they began to walk briskly toward the bridge.

  Griffin looked back too, and broke into a run.

  We were supposed to be farther along than this. We probably had a thousand-yard head start, but I wasn’t sure it would be enough. I hadn’t realized how steeply the bridge sloped upward, or that the surface deteriorated the farther we went.

  There was no point in hiding anymore—not if we risked losing our footing and injuring ourselves in a fall—so I took the lantern from Griffin and illuminated the ground before us. I lifted it high above me, hoping I’d be able to make out the gap in the distance, but the light only revealed an area ten yards in front of us. Stretching into the dusk, the bridge seemed endless.

  Another hundred strides. I was about to look back, but thought better of it. They would be gaining on us. I didn’t need to see them to know that.

  With every step, my pulse grew faster, and the lantern shone a little brighter. At the same time, I could feel my energy draining faster than before, as though I’d cut myself and was watching blood trickle out. The wind seemed to push us from everywhere at once; I couldn’t imagine how hard it must be for Griffin. I doubled up the cloth in the palm of my hand and felt immediate relief as the lantern dimmed.

  We were approaching the high point of the bridge when I heard it for the first time: the unmistakable sound of Griffin’s foot dragging along the ground. His pace slowed. There was no use encouraging him either—the expression on his face told me it would be pointless.

  I risked a backward glance and saw the pirates moving ever faster, encouraged by signs of our tiredness.

  The lantern was no advantage anymore. It was giving us away—shining a light on our weakness—so I threw it onto the ground and let the darkness swallow us. The pirates would still know where we were, but at least now they’d have a harder job knowing exactly how far ahead we were.

  Fierce gusts were more common than a lull now. The wind howled, but I could still hear Griffin breathing. He slowed down some more, and when I looked back I saw that the pirates had made tremendous gains. There was maybe four hundred yards between us.

  Griffin grabbed my arm—to stop himself from falling, I figured—and let out a grunt. But his pace picked up again after that. He kept going for another twenty strides, and then grabbed my arm again, but this didn’t feel accidental at all. And when he grunted and the pace accelerated again, I realized what he was doing: shocking himself to distract from the pain in his leg.

  I counted every stride, not in groups of a hundred, but in tens. And each time I started the count over, I wondered if it would be Griffin’s last. Another look back showed that th
e pirates were three hundred yards away at most. They were sprinting too. They clenched their fists and pumped their arms back and forth with every step.

  The constantly shifting wind battered us all now. I wondered if we were even moving forward.

  Another swipe from Griffin, but no grunt this time—just a pitiful cry, like a wounded animal. Tears filled my eyes, blurred my vision. Another grab and I cried out, from pain and the realization that we might not make it to the gap, let alone survive the fall.

  Griffin forced himself to keep going, but his foot wasn’t leaving the ground at all anymore. His cries were continuous and terrifying. I wished I could say something to him, but signs were empty now. I grabbed his sleeve and slung his arm over my shoulders. Grasping the material behind my neck, he kept moving. I focused on keeping a steady pace. Surely the gap couldn’t be too much farther?

  The wind changed direction again, and Griffin toppled over as though he’d been pushed. He hit the ground hard—didn’t even have time to extend his arms and brace himself.

  I knelt beside him and tried to help him up, but when I touched him, he screamed. I pulled back and sat on my haunches, just watching. When he turned his face toward me, I saw a gash running down the right side of his forehead. It bled into his eye and mouth. He spat the blood out angrily.

  I wanted to scream too—for Griffin’s pain, and for being unable to help him. I heard the pirates’ voices carried toward us on westerly gusts. I couldn’t make out words, but I could feel their excitement. They were gaining so quickly. They must have known we were spent.

  Griffin bumped my arm. Somehow he was standing again. He wore a determined look that almost scared me. Finish, he signed, slicing the air with his flattened right hand. And again: Finish.

  This time he led the way. He didn’t make a sound either. The pain he was enduring had been locked inside of him.