Lizard Radio

by Pat Schmatz

  The black-headed bird flits off. The wind gives another puff, a stronger one.

  “I’m going back in now.”

  Sheila will not let me go back in there.

  “Of course.” She nods. “I’ll be here waiting. Do what you need to, and then come back to me.”

  “What if I don’t come back?”

  Sheila lies back down and closes her eyes.

  “Just for the record, my little whiptail” — she speaks so softly, I can barely hear — “I never stopped thinking that you might save the world.”

  “Save it from what?” I cannot believe that she would let me go again. “And for what?”

  “We don’t know, do we?”

  TEN PACES SHY OF the yellow boundary sign, my anger and bravado join hands and walk off, leaving me alone in the woods. Keeping clear of the boundary, I pace back and forth trying to figure out where I am in relation to Pieville or the grove. I don’t want to come crashing out right next to Lacey’s slice.

  I turn my back on the boundary and look for the last rinkety-scarf scrap. That was Sheila’s idea, to mark my trail so that I could find my way back easily. I rolled my eyes when she tore the yellow scarf into strips, but I’m not rolling them now. The scraps are just the sort of thing that Sheila thinks ahead about and I don’t.

  Here I stand on the yawning maw of CropCamp grounds, still with no plan and no clue. What do I do — walk in and ask Machete for the komodo? And she’ll hand it over, pack a lunch for me and Sully and Nona and Emmett, and wish us a nice journey?

  No. I might not be Sheila’s gecko but I’m not a Machete-slaying dragon, either. The best I’ll find inside that boundary is caged, sedated lizard-dom. I can’t go back, and I can’t go forward. Everywhere I look is both and neither.

  That’s where your power lies.

  Well, that’s a stupid place for power to lie. I’m not an adult yet. Sheila will take care of me. All I have to do is let her. But I haven’t gone ten steps back toward her before my teeth start chattering. I stop and look, forward and back. CropCamp and Sheila.

  If I leave now, I won’t be both or neither. I’ll be the weak, shivering human that Machete rolled in the grove for the rest of my life. Her foot will be on my tail forever.

  I sink to the ground and wrap my arms around my legs, forehead on my knees. My stomach chews itself from the inside out. I can’t puke it out of me because it is me. I curl in on myself, smaller and smaller.

  What am I?

  Liam’s icy eyes rise again, and I shiver like I’m back in that winter day, knocked to the ground by those eyes and held there by a boot on my scarf. The lizards saved me that day. Where are they now?

  You must find yourself. That’s what Korm would say, but Korm isn’t here. It’s just me, Kivali Sauria Kerwin.

  Before you can be what you are, you must be all things.

  I don’t know how to do that. But maybe I can try, just try the way Korm taught me. Just for a second, here and now in the limbo-land of both and neither. It can’t hurt. I close my eyes and inhale all that I can: the green grass beneath my feet, the air and the trees and the heat and the day.

  Be a rock.

  I find the rock. I find mountain, and then earth. I breathe the wind. The wind finds a spark and blows into a fire that blazes until the rain begins, and then I become water, drowning the fire, flowing and roaring and dripping and swirling, cleaning my insides, washing my outsides, splashing and crashing inside and out, running over the rock.

  I open my eyes and suck in the afternoon air. I still have no plan, but the direction is clear. Ahead, forward, and in. I’d best move quickly, or I won’t move at all.

  Twenty or so paces in, I spot a pie-top and head directly for it. I stride into Pieville bold as daylight. No one is here. Not a moving, living soul, unless they’re spying secret from behind the trees. The spigot water is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I drink and drink, and run it over my head and neck. I flip my hair back, combing my fingers through and soaking the collar of Rasta’s da’s shirt.

  Since the privo is right there I use that, too, and then drink some more. Where is Machete? She must know that I’m here. She’s waiting for me somewhere. Maybe in my slice.

  I head over to my pie and zip in. My slice is just as I left it, with Nona’s towel in a heap on the floor. I take off my boots. Footsteps approach as I peel away my dirty, damp socks.

  “Lizard.”

  It’s Lacey.

  “I know you’re in there. You need to come with me to Ms. Mischetti’s office.”

  I am still afraid but my stomach is no longer eating itself. I pull on clean, dry socks, lace my boots, and step out to face Lacey. She clearly wants to handcuff or corral or lasso me, but I walk past her before she can make a move. My feet still hurt, but the dry socks are a wonder of comfort. Lacey follows me through Pieville and up the slope. At the top, the fields stretch out and glisten emerald-green. Not a comrade to be seen.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “At dinner. Ms. Mischetti is waiting for you in her office.”

  “I’m not going there. I’ll wait for her in the Pavilion.”

  I half-expect Lacey to tackle me from behind, but she doesn’t. She leaves me at the Pavilion. The screen door squeaks as I open it. I guide it gently closed and enter the hush. I’ve never been in here alone. A faint scent of wood smoke lingers in the solemn silence.

  The rocks rattle as I walk to the back row where Sully and I slipped in the very first night. I sit on the low, rough wooden bench, breathing hard. There — across there — that’s where Donovan Freer met my eyes and held them. And there, that’s where Machete stood.

  I stretch out my hand, palm up. What if someone laid a kickshaw on it right now? Would I take it? I close my eyes and let the kickshaw shine spread through my body. Here in this Pavilion is where I found some kind of One, such warmth and ease and sweet feeling — friends and fun and camaraderie and a sense of belonging that I’d never known before CropCamp.

  I step up on the bench nearest the door and watch Machete stride across the grass. Darlene. My bioparent. I once lived inside of that body. Did she love me even a tiny bit? Or did she hate having me in there and think only about how to get rid of me?

  I want my komodo, but I want more than that. I want to know a few things about Darlene Mischetti. I can’t see any other way to get her foot off my tail.

  “GOOD AFTERNOON, KIVALI,” SHE SAYS. “I was pleased when the biosensor alerted me that you were on the grounds.”

  She steps onto the bench on the other side and walks the outer circle, away from me. I hop a row in, walking the inner circle. She doesn’t know what I know. I want her to tell me. I want her to want to tell me.

  “Congratulations on your dealings with Mr. Shorlen. That man is so deep in grief, I have no idea how you got him to comprehend anything, much less act. But the docs are signed, and I’ll keep my agreement with him. No expuls for anyone involved in last night’s incident.”

  No expuls? Sully is still here? I almost miss my footing on the gap between two benches. Machete continues a slow prowl around the outer ring.

  “I have to admit, when I saw him in your coveralls, I had a moment of thinking that you might not come back — I put out alerts to all the sector borders, just in case.”

  I jump to the outer ring and walk quickly so that instead of her being behind me, I’m behind her. She keeps walking, too. The rocks below gnash their teeth. First one to fall loses.

  “I wonder where you’ve been since this morning. What you’ve been doing.”

  “Shall I give you a carefully chosen truth?”

  Machete turns and walks toward me. I jump in a row and keep walking.

  “People don’t want the whole truth, Kivali. They want to feel safe, and they want someone to tell them what to do.”

  “Which truth did you tell Rasta’s da?”

  “There was a terrible accident on a rainy night — the sort of tragedy that sometimes happens w
hen young comrades play loose with the regs, even with good intention.”

  We both circle, and my mind scrabbles busy like a chippie with things I want to say and things I want to ask. Machete takes big strides. I jump another row in, steady my stance, cross my arms, and face her.

  “I have answers to your questions,” I say. “My independence isn’t an asset or a liability. It just is. And leader or follower? Both.”

  Machete continues to walk, and I turn in place so she won’t be behind me.

  “Both,” she says. “The problem with both is that it ends up being neither.”

  “I don’t see that as a problem,” I say.

  She shakes her head sadly at my foolishness. My eyebrows dip.

  “I’ve learned some things about vaping,” I say.

  Machete stops walking. She looks at me, cocks her head.

  “What do you know?”

  Not a test or a challenge. She’s actually seeking information.

  “It’s nothing to fear.”

  “Not true, Kivali. Anything that rips us away from our comrades and from the One cannot possibly be good.”

  “Maybe there’s more than one One. Maybe some of us choose the both-and-neither one.”

  Machete turns away, walking again. I stand in place and watch.

  “Are you saying that people vape by choice?” I’m surprised by the bitter edge of her voice. “They just up and leave everyone and everything, forever? Did your Sheila take off because she’d had enough of you?”

  I watch this woman who is my bioparent, who abandoned me, who lied to get me here, who is still lying. Her older brother vaped when she was seven and broke her heart. I step off the bench and cross the still-snarling rocks. They allow me to pass.

  “That’s why you were sad when Donovan Freer vaped. Because it looked like he wanted to.”

  Machete looks down on me. Color flushes high in her cheeks. Her eyebrows dip and then rise. This is the time for me to be like Rasta, who knew when not to speak.

  “Yes. That any young person would choose that — that he —”

  She’s not lying now. Her broken heart bleeds through her eyes. She swallows, collects herself, steadies her voice.

  “And yes, you saw my doubts, and yes, that was unnerving for me. My entire life, my whole career, has been based on saving young people from vaping. I don’t think that’s been wrong. But maybe it hasn’t been entirely right.”

  Truth and emotion from Machete are wonderful things. They sweep through my system like kickshaw juice and explode a new vision, a world where the truths aren’t carefully chosen and young people have no need to escape-vape. What if we can actually work together, me and Darlene?

  “Then let’s change it,” I say. “Let’s make it different.”

  “Make what different?”

  “This.” I wave my hand across the Pavilion. “All of it. GovCentral trusts you. If our crop production is good and nobody complains — the teachers and counselors and guides, they trust you too, right? You have all the power here.”

  I wish that I could open up my bony skull and let her see the beautiful world inside, with the best of CropCamp mixed with the best of Korm’s ways and Sheila’s color, with no need for Blight or carefully chosen anything. If I can only make Machete believe in it, then maybe together she and I can . . .

  “So you want to work with me to create the best world we can, starting here at CropCamp? And you’ll commit to me, to your comrades, to the community?”

  For the first time since Machete entered, I look outside. Lacey and Saxem hover on the Quint, facing the Pavilion. They are guarding Machete, I suppose. I step back up on the benches and begin to walk the outer ring. Could it happen? Could we do it?

  “You are an amazing young person, Kivali Kerwin.” Machete and I are on the same route again, walking in the same direction. “You have it all — power and compassion, vision and ability. Together, we can do some very good things.”

  Machete and I working together is a ridiculous idea. But is it any more ridiculous than Sully’s kiss or Nona’s knowings or Rasta’s fall? If Machete will just be honest with me, truly and completely honest, we can do it.

  “First,” she says, “I have something difficult to tell you.”

  Yes. The truth is ready to pour.

  “If you know the truth, then no one can use it against you.”

  The beautiful world of the future, one where I fully belong, surges before me.

  “Sheila planned her vape.”

  I stop at the end of a bench and teeter. The rocks below snap and gnash.

  “She begged me to take you in this camp session, and asked me to keep you safe, which has turned out to be harder than I expected. But I could not refuse Sheila Kerwin.”

  I turn to face Machete on the opposite side of the Pavilion. No redness in her cheeks now. Just the cool color of lies.

  “You see, I’ve known Sheila for years. In the earliest days of SayFree, we resisted together. Youthful visionaries we were, like you are now.” Machete’s laugh sounds like a growl. “But we made different choices. I’ve put my vision to work in a useful way. Sheila refused to work with others, and she didn’t want you to know that we were connected. She wanted you to think that you were finding your own way here, on your own power. Which you are, of course. I’m just giving you some extra help. Because of my old bond with Sheila.”

  I stand tall with the rocks at my feet and the air in my lungs, the fire and the water in my heart and soul, and I look into Machete’s eyes so that I won’t miss a single glimmer of reaction.

  “Darlene,” I say. “I know who you are.”

  Machete’s knees waver visibly as if a strong wind blows from behind, but she recovers quickly.

  “Then you also know who you are?”

  I nod. Her quick inhalation is visible. She settles, nods, and forges on.

  “Then you know how important it is that you’re here, and that we move forward together. You and me. Together at last.”

  I plant both feet solidly on the bench, my weight balanced, my head high.

  “Korm sends her love.”

  Machete steps off the bench and sits down. She tries to collect herself, and fails, and tries again. She is afraid, but she’s not a coward. She could call Lacey and Saxem. They could Quarry me in a second, and I could rot down there with no expul. Sheila couldn’t rescue me, and neither could Rasta’s da. Nobody could.

  “Where is Korm?” she asks.

  “She vaped.”

  Water shines in Machete’s eyes.

  “Recently?”

  “Very.”

  Machete closes her eyes as she inhales, and when she opens them, the shine is gone. Her eyebrows dip and stay down. She’s made her decision.

  “That leaves you with me.” She stands. “And this is still my camp.”

  She walks across the CropCamp rocks. They don’t bite. They don’t even growl. They belong to her.

  “Come with me.” She reaches a hand up to me. “You must be exhausted. You need some rest.”

  “I don’t want rest, and I don’t want kickshaw. Not by morsel nor needle.”

  Her eyes soften, and she drops her hand.

  “But Kivali, the implants were never meant for you. You’re not like the others.”

  “What if I am? What if I’m exactly like the others?”

  “Mmmm, of course.” She nods, and her eyes are so understanding. “Of course, you’re worried about your friends, your comrades. This is what will make you such a fine leader. You see, none of the guides get implants. We’ll make Sully and Emmett guides. I can work with Sully’s rebellious streak.”

  I almost ask about Nona, and then I remember — Machete knows nothing of Nona’s involvement. Another thing I know that she doesn’t.

  “Trust me, Kivali. I’ve been doing this for many years.”

  I came in here seeking information. I have all that I need.

  “I’d like my metal lizard back,” I say. “Please g
ive it to me.”

  “You’re upset. And so exhausted. Kivali, it’s been an awful few days for you. This is not the time to make any decisions. Rest first, and eat. I bet you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  I back away from her hand.

  “Do you have it? The lizard?”

  Damn the quiver in my voice!

  “Of course,” she says. “It’s obviously important to you, so I’ve put it in a safe place. Come with me. I’ll get you some dinner, and we can talk more, work things out.”

  “No. I’m not staying here.”

  “Where do you think you can go? I’m your only option now, Kivali.”

  She is so sure of herself. If I stay, I’ll feed on kickshaws and carefully chosen truths for the rest of my life.

  “Remember what you said in our very first meeting? About how some young comrades have an internal intuitive guide? You were right.” As I speak, the dragon — not the toy one — fires my words. “That’s what happens when you leave your child. Your child becomes something that you know not, with a power you know not.”

  Her eyes flick outside. She’s going to call them. She’s going to Quarry me. She lies when it suits her, and when lies don’t work, she has all the power of the gov behind her.

  “You’re the one with choices to make now.” Lizard Radio sings in my ears, and the dragon speaks from my heart. “They’ll have consequences. You need to let Emmett and Sully rejoin their comrades with no sanctions and no culpas. I will walk out of here without interference.”

  “And if I interfere?”

  “Then you’ll have more vapes to explain, plus some disruption from my connections on the outside. Don’t doubt that I have them.”

  “If I do as you say? Then what?”

  “I will quietly disappear into the woods.” Carefully choosing my truths, keeping my options open. I am the offspring of Darlene Mischetti. “Maybe I vaped, or maybe your biosensors malfunctioned. Report whatever you want — whatever makes you look best. I don’t want to be your enemy.”

  Again, her eyes flick outside.