by Peter Telep
But I won’t let her see that. I can’t.
“We’re not giving up,” I say and then gesture for us to leave. We pull back our personas and return to the truck.
She drives in silence.
I stare through the windshield, wondering what’ll happen to us now…
We’ve already left the scorched valley and have begun our ascent into the mountain pass, where the truck skids over sheets of ice and sinks into softer patches of snow. And now the left track’s thumping loudly and might fail. Awesome.
So there’s no where else to go—except back to the outpost. The man with all the answers isn’t on this planet.
Was he taken by the masks? Or is he some place else?
“So we just wait,” Meeka says in disgust. “We just wait for Julie and her friends to get weak, and then Solomon comes down and finishes the job.”
“Meeka, you sound like me a little while ago.”
“I don’t want to give up. But we’re alone now.”
“We just need to figure out what my father was doing.”
“You mean other than destroying our lives?”
I’m so stressed out and frustrated that her comment just cuts into me—
And I break down when I’m supposed to be taking charge and wearing the man pants, even though they’re on fire. I try to hide my tears, but she catches me wiping them away.
“Doc, that wasn’t fair,” she says.
“I just got something in my eye.”
“Right…”
“Meeka, listen to me. It’s never too late, not even after a thousand years.”
“What does that mean?”
“Something my father was trying to tell me.”
“How could he put that letter in the lab?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he knew how to get inside and never told my grandmother. Or maybe the letter’s been there for a thousand years. Either way, he wanted me to find it. And he said there’s still a chance.”
Wait a minute.
I pull the letter from my jacket pocket and reread the return address—some place in Grrethos, on Halsparr.
Then I reach back and slide open the rear window. “Hey, Cypress.”
She shifts over, and I hand her the envelope. She studies it for a few seconds, and then draws her head back and taps on the return address. “I know this place.”
“Tell me why you know it.”
“Because I live there.”
“Seriously?”
She lifts her brow, doubly insulted by the question itself and my questioning her honesty.
“Sorry. We’re looking for this guy named Dr. Arabelle.”
“I don’t know him, but I can show you his name.”
“Back home on Halsparr.”
“Yes, Doke.”
“So you’ve seen his name.”
“Yes. I have. I will show you.”
And now my mind’s racing. “We gotta get out of here. We’re going back to Halsparr.”
“That’s fine,” Meeka says, “But the engine’s in Verbena, which in case you forgot is over four thousand miles away, and we have no way to get there.”
“They must have some hoverjets or something at the outpost. Maybe they used to fly in supplies, right? And didn’t Daliah say that nomads flew in from the coast and attacked them?”
“I think so.”
“Then we know they have hoverjets there, or something else that can fly us across the ocean.”
“And who does the flying?” Meeka asks.
“Uh, that would be you.”
“I don’t know how to fly,” she says.
“I guess that’s a problem.”
The window slides open behind us, and Steffanie shoves her head inside. “It’s so cold out here.”
“You want to switch with me?” I ask.
“I’m okay. So what’re we doing?”
“Going back to the outpost, and then we’ll fly to Verbena. After that, we’re jumping to Halsparr.”
“Cool. Just hurry.” She slides shut the window.
“Why did you lie to her?” Meeka asks.
“I didn’t lie. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“Doc…”
I lean over, cup her cheek in my hand, and then whisper in her ear, “Just believe me.”
She nods.
So do I. And then I lean back in my seat—
And panic. A good leader makes everyone feel confident and secure in the mission—
Even if the mission is falling apart.
All right, it’s safe to assume that Cypress, Hedera, and Steffanie aren’t pilots either, and every other pilot we could bribe for a ride is up on the Galleons’ ship.
And maybe our boy Dr. Arabelle is up there, too.
Or not. But there could be more clues on Halsparr. We have to go. I close my eyes and order myself to think harder about this.
My grandmother told me I can solve problems using the resources at my disposal.
Okay, there’s no way to contact Julie, and we’re not going to wait around for her to save us.
What other resources do I have?
I take a deep breath, hold it, and reach out toward the sky, past the clouds, and all the way back to Larkspur, where the Galleons’ ship floats over the mountains. I focus my thoughts until they literally sting.
I call his name over and over.
Our blood is more powerful than them.
I just know it.
But right now, I don’t think he can hear me…
Wake up, Keane. Please… wake up….
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
What’s today’s definition of irony?
That’s when the left track of your all-terrain vehicle slips off just fifteen minutes from Chrysantha.
Meeka does everything she can, but we just grind metal on metal until the engine burns out.
And now we’re forced to drag ourselves across the ice and snow. But first, we unroll some blankets, place Tommy on his back, and then grab the blankets’ corners and heave him into the air. Even with the five of us all holding on, my arms strain and I can barely keep my balance as we trudge away.
Rolling white hills line both sides of our path as we follow the smoother snow running alongside our track marks.
Something yellow flashes in the corner of my eye.
And there it is again.
I jerk my head toward the hilltops.
Nothing.
And then Cypress hisses and raises a fist.
We freeze.
“Something’s wrong,” I say.
“Yes, Doke.” She scans the ice behind us. “Something’s out there, watching us.”
“So the Galleons didn’t take everyone,” I whisper. “They left a few monsters who still want to kill us.”
“Probably wintt,” Meeka says.
“Do I want to know what they are?” I ask.
She takes a long, chilly breath. “No.”
“Then let’s move.” I tug hard on my end of the blankets, and we hustle off.
Steffanie and Hedera are at the front, while Cypress pulls up the rear. Steffanie found Tommy’s rifle near the truck and slung it over her shoulder. I have a feeling she’ll need it.
I snap my head left and right, as more lights shimmer and vanish.
We climb a small hill, and our boots sink much deeper into the snow. At the top, we spot Chrysantha lying like an oasis about a thousand yards away.
“We made it,” Meeka says through a huge sigh.
I smile.
“Run!” Cypress screams.
I steal a look over my shoulder—
At the wintt.
Yep, it’s definitely better not knowing what they are.
Imagine blind white moles with pointy heads like lemons and skin like a piece of notebook paper that’s been crushed into a ball and then spread open.
They leap forward like enormous rabbits on four bony legs and with feet shaped like tennis rackets. They’re about as tall as we a
re and stretch their torsos like springs.
In order to see, they project personas of glowing yellow eyes that float in the air a few feet in front of them.
At the same time, they do this crazy nosedive between the eyes, only to project them again. The cycle repeats, with the eyes sliding back and forth to create glimmering lines on either side of their heads.
With rising thunder, they charge toward us from the hills, swarming into a pack of hundreds. Those leading the attack open their mouths. Long teeth flicker like red flames.
Cypress releases the blanket and drops to a knee behind us, while Steffanie rushes up beside her, jamming the stock of Tommy’s rifle into her shoulder.
Meanwhile, the rest of us grunt and gasp as we try to carry Tommy down into the valley, toward the outpost.
The rifle cracks a few times, and a noise like wind chimes sounds behind us—
Just before Cypress and Steffanie rejoin us at the blanket, and we all break into a jog.
I flick another look back, where Cypress’s shields have formed a barrier rising eight or nine feet above the snow. A few wintt try to jump it, but rotating hexagons convert them into slush puddles.
Within seconds, though, the fence begins to fail as a horde of wintt charge into it. The lead monsters disintegrate, but the others behind them hop through the opening.
We pick up the pace.
But then Hedera slips and falls away into the snow.
“Got her!” I cry as the others keep going.
I detach from the group, spin around, and fall back to grab Hedera’s wrists, yanking her to her feet.
Her eyes are creased, her lips chapped. She trembles hard and can’t breathe.
I slap my shoulder, turn around, tell her to climb on my back. I know, the Yoda thing, but at least she gets to be Yoda.
Sliding my arms beneath her legs, I take off, and wow, she’s so lean that it’s no effort at all.
Just ahead, Meeka and Steffanie project their personas to replace us, so they’re back to five people on the blanket.
And that gives me an idea.
Reminding myself that I’m getting better at multitasking and that I’ve been on two different planets at the same time, I leap into my persona and stand there, facing our attackers.
A pack of wintt plows straight toward me. Their persona eyes slice through the icy mist like lasers, and they hoot and holler at me like ewoks who’ve snorted bath salts.
I jump about twenty feet to my left and begin waving my hands to attract them. And then… a voice blares in my head:
“Why does my girlfriend have her legs wrapped around your back?”
“Keane, you’re alive!”
“Not that you care. You’re already putting the moves on my woman!”
“No way!”
“Uh, yes, way,” he argues.
“Look, I’m just trying to save her.”
“That’s my job!”
“Whatever. Shut up! Let me call you back!”
“Roger that,” he says. “You know the number: One Eight Hundred Masks of Galleon Suck!”
“Dude, seriously, I’m glad you’re okay.”
I scream and wave again, trying to attract the wintt.
They come toward me, but maybe my persona doesn’t give off the same scent, or maybe they think personas don’t taste as good as “real” meat, I’m not sure—
Because at the last second, as I’m about to jump away and misdirect them again, they veer around me—
Heading for that pathetic guy carrying a skinny girl on his back.
I jump again and again, arriving in front of them, at their sides, waving and hollering, but they won’t take the bait.
I project myself ahead, running alongside myself and Hedera, while glancing over my shoulder. It’s frustrating because I want to jump us back to the outpost, but my body’s stuck running. I pull back my persona and focus all my energy into my legs.
Hedera wraps one arm around my chest and releases the other. She lifts her palm, where her floating head swivels to face the wintt.
“I’m sorry, Doc. They’re getting closer, and I’m slowing you down.”
“You kidding? A bag of popcorn weighs more than you.”
“What’s popcorn?”
“Forget it. And hey, I just talked to Keane.”
“You did?” She squeezes me tighter and shudders.
“Yep, he’s alive. And we’ll make it, too. Hang on!”
With that, I grit my teeth and charge even harder.
You can run with fear.
And that makes you pretty fast.
Or you can run with anger.
And that makes you even faster, because you feel like you can fix things just by pounding hard enough.
You can fix all the mistakes your father made, all the pain he’s caused your friends and the rest of the world… as long as you just… keep… running.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The group carrying Tommy has already reached the field of scholars that my grandmother planted.
As Cypress leads them into the path, the golden flowers actually bend toward them, as if watching.
They didn’t do that the first time. What’s different now? Does it have something to do with Tommy?
As we rush up behind our group, coming within fifty feet of the field, all my efforts to run hard and fix the world go straight to hell.
My boot comes down on something, maybe an ice-covered rock buried in the snow.
My ankle twists.
Daggers of pain slice up my leg.
And down we go, the snow blasting into our eyes.
The wintt break into a frenzy of screaming, and I imagine them drooling and licking their chops.
And now Hedera’s on her feet and dragging me up. The look on her face is incredible.
She’s gone from cold, red-faced, frightened girl to badass warrior on a mission. All she needed was time to catch her breath, and all I need is new foot.
I start half-running, half-limping, and just as we shift between the first cluster of flowers, my foot gives out again—
And I land on my side.
I roll over, sit up, and curse.
“Get behind me,” I order Hedera…
Because it’s too late now.
The wintt leap and smash into each other, fighting over who gets the first bite. The lead pack, about twenty monsters in all, pounds up a small rise.
Twenty feet away. Ten…
Hedera and I have enough time to take a breath—
But not enough time for me to jump in my persona and tell Cypress we need her shields.
Of course Julie and her masks could burst across the sky and zap these hungry bastards into oblivion.
Or maybe Solomon could save us, just so he can make us another offer. Maybe he’ll throw in movie coupons or season passes to Disney this time.
Or maybe Cypress already sensed we’re in trouble. Once I finish taking that breath, her shields will be back up and buy us enough time to reach the outpost.
Any of those things could happen.
But they don’t.
The wintt just slow down, begin to collide into each other, and then stop dead in their tracks, as though they’ve hit a forcefield and can’t step past the line.
As the flurries settle around them, and their grunts and hoots fall silent, Hedera and I just sit there, in shock.
They continue gathering along the line, hundreds of them, their eyes floating tightly near their heads.
I glance slowly to my right and left, at the flowers. They stand innocently, not doing anything, just being them.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
Hedera slides up next me, and we sit there in the snow, in the shadow of all these scholars and wintt.
From the back of the horde comes a long, hollow yelp like a command. The wintt disperse, turn back for the hills and leap away.
For a moment, I think they’ll part to reveal some warrior the masks couldn’t touch, maybe
a sage like Joshua.
But no, the monsters just leave, vanishing over the hills.
Meanwhile, Meeka and Cypress come running down the path, calling our names. Steffanie follows. They help us to our feet, and I tell them what just happened.
“They wouldn’t come into the field,” Cypress says, lifting her chin at the flowers. “Rokujahh.”
“That happens on Halsparr,” I say. “Animals don’t like the rokujahh.”
“No, animals like them.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”
“Your grandmother called them scholars,” Meeka says. “So maybe they’re learning that we’re okay, and they decided to protect us.”
“How?” I ask. “Did they connect with those things?”
Meeka sighs and throws up her hands.
“We saw them move when you brought Tommy through here,” Hedera says.
Cypress’s brown eye widens. “We saw that, too.”
“My father told my grandmother to plant these flowers, and we need to figure out why,” I say.
Steffanie projects Joshua’s immortal.
He seems even taller than I remember, dressed in his desert gear with goggles on his forehead and bolts of tattoos ripping across his dark-skinned head.
As he smiles in recognition at us, his claw-like nails rake through his gray beard—but it’s his eyes that’re the most striking, silver-gray and with specs of gold that swirl in them, suggesting he’s not quite human.
“It’s good to see you all, and meet new friends,” he says in his deep, commanding voice.
“Joshua, can you connect with these flowers?”
He turns to face them and lifts his palm. “I’ll send them an invitation.”
He stands there. We wait. And wait.
“Anything?” Steffanie asks.
“I get a sense that they want to accept my invitation but they don’t know how.”
“Which is why they’re called scholars,” I saw with a groan. “They’re still learning.”
The girls frown.
“Come on, let’s go,” I say. “We can try again later. And oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, Keane’s still alive.”
Meeka and Steffanie grab my arms. “What?” they ask, almost in unison.
“He’s up there. He sounds good.”
“You should have told us right away!” Steffanie cries.
“I am! I am!”
