Chrysalis

by Brendan Reichs

The sun crested the peaks and the day warmed. We walked in silence—Akio as impassive as ever, Richie trudging along like he didn’t care where we were going or if we ever got there. The lower half of the trail was a haphazard sequence of stone shelves angling along the outside of the cliffs. Halfway down, caverns sliced into the bedrock. Ethan camped in there with Charlie Bell and Spencer Coleman, tending our boats and operating the lift system, like a real job.

  To be honest, having Ethan out of the village made people more comfortable. Not everyone had put the Program’s horrors behind them, despite Min’s efforts. Ethan still caught stares when he ventured up for parts or supplies, so much so that he hadn’t visited Home Town in weeks. I hadn’t been totally surprised when he skipped the meeting yesterday.

  Stepping onto the last ledge, my shoe slipped on a pile of loose scree. Akio’s hand shot out to steady me. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I watched tiny pebbles tumble into the sea. I licked my lips, then snapped off a grateful nod to Akio as he released me. I’d forgotten how much I hated making this trip, and we still had to get down to the water and cross the ocean, and whatever might live in it.

  I swallowed, refusing to glance at the endless line of waves. There’d always been rumors of things in the sea. Anxious eyewitness claims, exchanged around the campfire. At least a dozen kids swore they’d seen huge somethings breach the surface, usually off in the distance, and always around dawn or dusk. Dumb stories, I always thought. Nothing more. The sun hits a cresting wave just right and people start screaming about sea monsters. It was nonsense. But my palms were sweating nonetheless.

  Fifty feet farther along, we reached a slash in the cliff face. I stepped into a low grotto and exhaled. The fissure was long and tight, with a waist-high opening at the opposite end. I scuttled under the lip and into a larger cave.

  Three ragged survival tents were set against the rear wall, facing a cold fire pit surrounded by camp chairs. Fishing gear was spread out across the ground. To our right, a wide gap had been sealed off with tarps. Straight ahead was another crack in the wall that led to the boat cavern. We ducked inside.

  Ethan was hunched over the lift with his shirt off, a wire crimper in one hand. He looked up when we entered, regarding us with a frown before returning to the hulking machine. Charlie and Spence gave us matching head nods, which I returned. We were all on the same side now, in theory, but old wounds ran deep. I’d shot all three of these guys inside the Program, and they’d returned the favor.

  Beyond the lift, yellow inflatable rescue vessels were stacked against the far wall. Each had its own motor and a weather shield. Getting all this equipment down here had been a real challenge, but in the early days it’d felt more like adventure than work. Now it felt like I was trespassing in someone’s private garage. I reminded myself I didn’t need permission to be there.

  Ethan wiped his face with a towel, then dropped it to the stone floor. He grabbed a T-shirt off a set of plastic drawers and pulled it over his head. Sunlight seeped in from the open right side of the cavern. I knew the edge was sheer, with a clean drop to a tiny cove nestled within the island’s outer wall. So long as the weather was reasonable, launching boats was relatively easy. These guys had mastered it.

  “I’m guessing you need a ride?” Ethan strode toward me, big and blond, blue eyes as hard as the line of his jaw. He radiated an intensity that always made me uncomfortable. We’d been rivals even before Project Nemesis, but the months of trying to kill each other inside the MegaCom had twisted things into something unrecognizable. Ethan seemed to regard my very existence as a challenge. I sometimes wondered if he was all there anymore.

  I cleared my throat. I had to be careful with what I said, but I wasn’t going to lie.

  “We can’t reach the Outpost by radio. So we’re going there to make sure everyone’s okay.”

  Ethan turned and spat on the cavern floor. “Who took the C4?”

  I tried not to let my shock register. Ethan already knew about the theft, which meant someone had brought him up to speed last night. But who? Certainly not Min or Sarah, and I doubted Sam and Derrick would’ve bothered. Did he have a spy in the village? Did it matter?

  I had to say something. I opted for the simple truth. “We don’t know. Sarah thinks the cave-ins were a deliberate series of detonations. I’m not sure, but the missing explosives obviously back her theory. Since we don’t know what happened and suddenly can’t reach Corbin or the others, someone has to check on them.” I shrugged, waved a hand at Akio and Richie behind me. “We drew the short straws.”

  Ethan looked at Richie, who was staring vacantly out to sea. “Sorry about Jamie, man.”

  Richie blinked. Nodding slightly, he turned away.

  Ethan swung back to me. “Feels like a trap, you know. The Outpost going dark right now. You sure you want to walk right into whatever’s waiting out there?”

  “Like I said. Short straw.”

  “You guys act like Home Town is one big happy family, but you shouldn’t trust everyone.” Ethan rubbed his face, leaving a dark smear on his cheek. “If the silo was sabotaged, someone up there knows all about it. Count on that.”

  I straightened. “Min and Derrick can handle things. Hell, Sarah’s pissed off, and that’s never good for anyone in her way.”

  Ethan stepped nose-to-nose with me. “What about the ocean? You ready to float beyond the shallows again, Livingston?” He clamped a hand onto my shoulder. “Because I’ve seen more than I want to under the waves, buddy boy. There are scarier things out there than Toby.”

  He was testing me. I didn’t like it. Garbage stories about sea monsters, to see if I’d punk out? And why the crack about Toby? Nobody had mentioned his name in the sabotage rumors yet, at least not that I’d heard. Did Ethan know something we didn’t? “It’s a pirate’s life for me,” was all I said.

  Ethan nodded firmly, dropping his hand. He barked over his shoulder at Spence and Charlie. “Get the launch ready. Boat three’s in the best shape, I think. Load up gear for four and move it into position.”

  It took me a moment to catch up. “Four?”

  Ethan grinned as he retrieved a heavy pack from the corner. “You think I’d miss this?”

  My eyes widened. I shot a glance at Akio, who looked like he’d smelled something foul. Richie chuckled softly as he scuffed his sneaker on the ground.

  “You don’t have to come,” I said awkwardly.

  “Of course I do.” Ethan helped his companions drag a yellow boat to the lift. For a moment I just stood there, blinking at them, then I lurched forward to help. Soon all five of us had maneuvered the scuffed and battered vessel into position. I worked like a robot, mind blank, unable to think of a way to prevent Ethan from joining us.

  When push came to shove, I still didn’t trust him. Who’s to say he wasn’t working with Toby? If an ambush was waiting for us, Ethan might very well be its architect. But I was supposed to go sailing with him anyway?

  It took five minutes to hook up the lines. Ethan was the first to throw his bag inside. “It’s simple,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the boat. “Something serious is going on, and I don’t trust you village dopes to solve it. So that means I have to do it myself.”

  I looked to Akio, who shrugged. Richie wasn’t paying attention. The decision was mine, but it wasn’t a decision at all. Ethan ran these boats, and I couldn’t stop him. I had to make the best of it.

  “Okay then.” I extended a hand. “We go together.”

  Ethan stared at my hand, seemed thrown for the first time since we’d entered his domain. He reached out slowly and shook it. I think we were both surprised he did.

  “Better go now.” Spence rubbed a pimply cheek, then pointed eastward, which was still mostly clear. “Window’s open, but this has been a bad month. You don’t want to be on the water when the lightning comes. And make sure you’re not over th
e deep zone past sunset.”

  “Why not?” I asked. Akio was equally attentive.

  Spence shivered. “Just don’t be.”

  I glanced at Ethan, but he laughed and started rechecking the lines.

  There was nothing left to discuss. We loaded our things beside Ethan’s duffel and climbed aboard. Spence and Charlie swung the vessel to hang out over the edge. Twenty yards below us, the ocean rocked and churned, safe enough to descend into but nobody’s idea of a picnic. My stomach lurched. I tried very hard not to lose my lunch.

  Richie wasn’t so lucky. He emptied his gut over the side as the motorized winch slowly lowered us toward the water.

  “Not a good sign,” Ethan joked, slapping Richie’s back. “It’s six hours to the Outpost and we’ll hit some gnarly chop along the way. But you boys are scurvy sea dogs now!”

  “Great,” I muttered. Energized Ethan might be the most annoying version.

  We hit the surf with a jarring thump. Ethan detached the lines, fired the motor, and steered us into open water. “You should know something,” he said quietly, the smile vanishing from his lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “I meant what I said up there.” He nodded at the rolling lines of white-green foam. “There are things lurking out here. We’re as powerless now as inside the Program. I still feel like a pawn in a bigger game.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, preoccupied by the powerful ocean surrounding us. I felt the primal terror of being adrift over hidden depths of inky black water.

  This trip could not be over fast enough.

  7

  MIN

  I sat down on my bed and sighed.

  My eyes strayed to the pile of blankets. I’d have given anything to have Noah there.

  What a day.

  The morning had begun with a funeral and got worse from there. My heart ached, remembering those limp forms being lowered into the ground. Then Noah left, and the remaining hours had been like herding cats. Derrick and I did everything we could to project positivity, but people were scared. Rumors of theft and sabotage were racing through the village, and suddenly everyone had a theory.

  People now moved in tight-knit groups born straight out of the Program. I watched the soccer girls—Casey, Dakota, and Lauren—refuse to eat lunch within earshot of Ferris and Leighton. The Ridgeliners were traveling as a pack, casting suspicious glances at everyone, while some Home Towners wanted Sam’s crew restricted to their borrowed buildings. And that was before we got to the cheerleaders, risen from the silo’s nucleus. They sat woodenly on the sidelines and refused to help with anything.

  I knew they’d lost friends, but their aloofness had been an issue even before this. Now? People wanted them barred from the mess tent until they started lending a hand. I wouldn’t take things that far, but it was a problem that needed dealing with. Add it to the pile.

  I’d asked Sam and Derrick to keep the Toby news to themselves, but it was bound to get out eventually. And when the others learned that Sarah had spoken with him and told no one, would they allow her to stay in the village? Should I? What would the group think when they found I knew about it, and did nothing?

  I kicked my field desk, disturbing the papers on its surface. I hated keeping secrets, but it wasn’t the right time for another bombshell. Throwing Toby into the mix seemed like asking for trouble. Plus, I needed Sarah. I’d keep it quiet for a few more days.

  We’d lost seven suddenly irreplaceable cabins and three supply buildings. The village was a scorched, mud-soaked mess. We had to get our literal houses in order, and people were already on high alert after hearing about the stolen crates. Naming Toby was effectively pointless, and maybe even dangerous without proof he was connected to the missing explosives. Panic was the biggest threat we faced.

  Right? God, I truly didn’t know.

  Anger and fear simmered just below the surface. The village felt like a powder keg. One false move by me—one thoughtless decision, or careless oversight—and we might have open warfare. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  With a piteous moan I’d never let another person hear, I slumped off the bed and began gathering papers into a stack. I placed them back on my desktop, then froze.

  Next to my document box was a hand-drawn map of Fire Lake Island that Hector had made for me. In addition to topography, he’d also included markers we knew in the ocean, right up to the Outpost’s location at the outer limit of our planetary knowledge.

  Noah and I had gone over it last night, scrutinizing the map. Then I’d put it away at the bottom of my trunk of spare clothes. I knew I had, because I always kept it there. Because I hated that map. I hated how little we knew about the world. I hated that Tack was so far away at the Outpost. I hated not having a best friend anymore.

  And. Yet.

  Here the map was.

  Back on my desk, where it had no business being.

  My hands began to tremble. Pointlessly, I spun in a tight circle, but there was nowhere to hide in my tiny cabin.

  I thought about the morning. Could Noah have dropped back by to check on something?

  No. That wouldn’t make sense. This drawing didn’t have details like the tides or longitude and latitude, or anything that would help him navigate. It was a simple sketch. Nothing he’d need to refer to again before leaving. Plus I’d watched him disappear down the path to the caves. I’d have noticed if he’d come back for something. I was sure he hadn’t.

  Which meant someone else had been inside my cabin. And that someone went through my things.

  Dark thoughts began spiraling inside my head. Toby. The cave-ins. Stolen supplies. Now I had an intruder on my hands, though I couldn’t imagine what they’d hoped to find. I had nothing of value. No one did. This was a commune. Nobody owned a thing beyond the clothes on their backs, and even those would be reclaimed if necessary.

  They must be after information. But what?

  The only stuff I ever wrote down were supply counts, or short notes to the other camps about—you guessed it—supply counts. There was a novella Anna Loring had written that was circulating—about kids with dog powers that I’d felt was largely derivative—and a note from Leighton arguing that he shouldn’t have to chop firewood because of his asthma. Beyond that, nothing.

  Maybe someone was just snooping in general? Did we have a pervert in the village?

  I dropped the map in frustration. Speculating was pointless. But I couldn’t shake a feeling of violation. We didn’t lock doors in this world. We often didn’t even have doors. A fundamental rule was that we respected each other’s boundaries. In the half year since emerging from the Program we’d had almost no crime. The class behaved and cooperated. Or at least, I thought we did.

  What we’d done inside the MegaCom had left scars on every- one, and no one seemed to want fresh ones. All in all, it had been remarkable. The chaos we’d escaped in virtual Fire Lake had imprinted a strong inclination toward civility. Plus, Toby and the worst troublemakers had lit out, which certainly helped.

  On impulse, I strode to the door and stepped outside. My front stoop was equipped with an electric lantern that tossed a soft yellow glow. Mixed with the diffuse moonlight, it gave the woods a ghostly vibe.

  I stood still, listening to the night sounds. Insects. Birds. The dull hum of the ocean. Familiar things, like in the past. Yet none of it was really familiar at all.

  This was a new world, one I didn’t fully understand. One that had evolved without humans and now had to accept them again. Earth had never felt so alien as it did right then, standing in the gloom outside my cabin, contemplating who might’ve searched my belongings.

  A twig snapped.

  My head turned.

  I spotted a silhouette in the bushes to my left.

  For a moment my breath caught. I couldn’t say a word.

  The figure didn’t run
. Didn’t move. Maybe whoever it was thought I couldn’t see them.

  “Who’s there?” I called out in a shaky voice. Then I firmed it as best I could and pointed. “I can see you, whoever you are. What do you want?”

  The form vanished into the darkness. I heard muffled footfalls jogging down toward the village.

  Adrenaline flooded my system. That person had been spying. Likely the same jerk who’d snuck into my cabin, or someone connected to them.

  I shivered in the cool night air as implications piled up. Something was going on. Whoever was spying on me might know about the stolen explosives. And if those really had been used to wreck the silo, it meant I had a full-blown conspiracy on my hands. One operating inside the village.

  I strode toward the bushes, fists clenched at my sides. This was my home, and my community to run. People were dead because of the cave-ins. When I found the bastards responsible, I’d make them answer for it.

  Below, the village gleamed in an orderly rectangle of pale yellow lights. Lanterns were affixed to poles along the wider pathways, so that wires could be strung and the system powered by a central generator. I began striding downhill without a flashlight. If I moved quickly, maybe I could check enough buildings and see who wasn’t where they should be. We weren’t a big group anymore—I might catch my stalker if I got there quickly and stirred things up. And if it was Toby or his gang, I’d flush them into the open.

  I’d only taken a few steps when every light in the village died at once. I stopped short, blinking in the sudden darkness. The generator must’ve failed. Then I cursed my own naiveté. Too many signs of trouble already—more likely, someone had cut the power.

  My eyes began to adjust. I continued treading softly along the trail.

  The forest went silent.

  A dozen blood-red lights ignited in a circle around the village. Flares. Their acrid stench filled my nostrils as the torches coughed and spat. The closest was mere steps to my right, held aloft by a black-clad figure who didn’t seem to realize I was there.