I looked at the sand on my fingertips. It was red like the film on Max’s shoulder, and right then I knew. “It’s the Fiery Furnace.”
They just looked at me as if I’d said “It’s a puppy driving a tractor.”
“I mean, I know it can’t be real, but it looks like a place in Arches National Park called the Fiery Furnace. Look,” I said, pointing to the largest arch in the rock at the top of one of the walls. It was very distinctive, with a post down the middle making it look like two large eyes. “That’s Skull Arch.”
Cole stepped toward me and grabbed my arm. “You know this place?”
I nodded. “I hiked it once.”
“By yourself?”
“No. Nobody would ever hike the Fiery Furnace without a guide. It’s like a maze. Narrow sandstone canyons. Dead ends. I came with my school.” The memory was fresh in my mind, because I had just been looking at the framed picture from our trip there. It was the place where Jack brushed my hair from my eyes. I paused, watching Cole’s face grow tenser by the second. But I was having the opposite reaction. From the moment I let my feelings go, every part of me, including the inside of my head, felt lighter. “We had a guide. But why would the Fiery Furnace be here? We’re still in the Everneath, aren’t we?”
Cole pressed his lips together in a tight line and looked at Max. “This is coming from her.”
“From me?” I shook my head. “That’s impossible.”
“No. It’s entirely possible from someone who survived the Feed.”
Cole had always said that the fact that I hadn’t aged during the hundred-year Feed meant that I was different. Strong somehow. Strong enough to take down a queen, he had told me. But how was the ability to project an image like the Fiery Furnace any sort of unique gift?
Cole frowned. “We have a problem.”
“No shit,” Max said.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“When I asked you to let your feelings for Jack loose, I wasn’t quite prepared for just how much you had stored up behind the floodgates. And it’s a problem, because this much energy will attract attention we don’t want.”
I was about to ask what sort of attention when I saw someone. Just a flash of brown hair as someone disappeared around a bend in the rock. But a flash was all I needed to know who it was.
Jack. “Jack!” I screamed. It felt like forever since I’d seen him. “Jack!” I shouted again, sprinting in the direction he’d gone.
Faint voices called to me from behind, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was as if there were cotton balls in my ears. As I ran, I glanced up at the sky to let the sun warm my face.
But there was no sun. Not anywhere.
I stopped running. My own shadow stretched before me, taller than me. The sun was coming from behind. But when I whipped around, it wasn’t there.
Why was I looking for the sun? There was something else I should look for first. Wasn’t there?
I put my head in my hands and rubbed my scalp, frantically trying to remember what I’d been running to but my head felt like a leaking balloon. Everything was slipping out.
Turning in hectic circles, I started to pant until I caught sight of a face. Big brown eyes. Floppy hair. Wide grin. I knew this face. It was Jack’s face.
“Jack!” I shouted, and took off running again. I stumbled around a sharp turn and scrambled up a large boulder that blocked the path, and when I reached the top, I saw him. Lying on the ground.
I sprang off the rock and landed next to his head. I knelt to the ground and put my hands on his cheeks. “Jack,” I said, my voice barely reaching my ears.
“Nik!” It was a voice from the top of a boulder. Not Jack’s.
“Shhhh!” I put up my hand, waving off whoever was there. “It’s Jack! I found him.”
“No, Nik. You didn’t.”
Was Cole blind? “What do you mean? He’s right here!”
“Look at yourself. You’re on the ground.”
“I’m on the ground because Jack’s on the ground,” I answered forcefully. Then I had to think about it. Jack was on the ground.
I grabbed on to Jack’s cheek and came up with a handful of red dirt.
“What the … ?” I relaxed my clenched fist, and dirt seeped through my fingers. I looked back at the ground, and there was Jack’s face still, only this time he was maybe twelve years old, and he was playing in a baseball game.
It was as if I were watching home videos of Jack projected onto the dirt.
“What is this?” I held out the clump of dirt to Cole. “What’s happening?”
Cole crouched down in front of me and closed his hands around mine.
Max appeared at the top of the boulder. “We’re so screwed.”
THIRTEEN
NOW
The Everneath. The Ring of Earth.
Cole put his hand under my chin and forced my gaze away from the images and movies of Jack that plastered every surface around us. “Nik, you’re in the Everneath. You’re projecting this scene onto the Everneath. It’s not real. I told you how your feelings—your memories, emotions—affect your surroundings here. You’re making this.”
I looked back down at the movie of Jack. Now he was smiling toward the camera, holding a stick with a marshmallow on the end of it. The marshmallow was on fire, and he blew on it. I hated burned marshmallows.
How could I be making this? I tried to sort out what was happening, but it was as if my brain wasn’t working at full power. I knew everything here was wrong—a different version of the Fiery Furnace, the moving pictures of Jack—but I couldn’t make it right inside my head.
“Can you see him too?” I asked.
Cole nodded. “Yes, but I shouldn’t be able to. You’ve got some strong memories. Usually the human projections look like … an aura, almost, around the person. I knew yours would be stronger because you survived the Feed, but I thought that meant you would project a more focused object, like a rope. You, however, are projecting an entire national park.”
Max kicked the dirt. “We should leave.”
“If we leave now and then come back, we’ll be in the same predicament,” Cole growled, but I could see he was just as frustrated.
“Why is it so dangerous?”
“Because there are Everlivings out here called Wanderers, and they are starving for energy, and they can sniff it out, and all of this”—he threw his arm around—“is basically a flashing neon sign that says EAT AT JOE’S.” His voice grew. “And unlike normal humans, your subconscious projection is tangible, and concrete, and also happens to resemble a maze!” He jumped up and pounded his fist into the rock wall with a frustrated grunt. His voice echoed, bouncing from wall to wall. It lasted longer than seemed possible, his anger reverberating all around us.
As the last sounds died out, he shook his hand, a tiny drop of blood splattering on the sandstone at his feet. My projection was strong enough to break his skin. How was it possible that something coming from my mind was real enough to hurt him? What if I had projected us inside one of the caverns of the Fiery Furnace? Would we be trapped? Could it suffocate us? Could the rocks perched on the precipice of the canyon tumble down and crush us?
Even though I was freaking out, I couldn’t let Cole and Max know. Max said he wanted to give up. Cole looked like he was thinking about it. I didn’t want to add to the panic, because, if we left now and went back to the Surface, I might never get the chance to save Jack again.
Actually, if we left now, Jack would die. I knew it.
The silence was heavy in the air. I took a couple of deep breaths and then walked slowly over to Cole. The veins in his neck protruded. I couldn’t let him change his mind about being here. I definitely didn’t trust him, but right now he was the only person who could help me. It was a bad position to be in. But I took his injured hand in mine and brought it close to my face to get a good look at it. The lines around his eyes softened, making him look more like a wounded animal. Scared almos
t. Not because the cut was deep, but because I had taken his hand, I thought. He was vulnerable to my touch. I could see it.
Back on the Surface, he’d worked so hard to conceal it. Yes, he’d told me he wanted me to be with him, but those were just words. Right now I could see an involuntary physical reaction. The muscles on his arms tensed because of my nearness. His cheeks flushed because I was close.
I pulled the sleeve of my shirt forward and wiped away the blood on his knuckles. Then I looked into his eyes. “It’ll be okay.” I didn’t mean his hand, and I thought he understood. Cole’s face tightened.
“I can do this,” I said. “When I first got here, I had no projection. There has to be a way for me to control it. Find some middle ground between nothing and the broken dam.”
Cole sniffed and took his hand back. He nodded and frowned in a determined way.
Then he and Max walked in slow circles around me, and for the first time I noticed how the scenery they walked through rippled as they went, as if it were an oil painting that hadn’t dried.
I guess they were soaking up some of the energy of the projection as they circled around me, but I could tell there was no way they could position themselves to hide me completely. The scenery in their wake simply recovered as they went.
Cole came to a stop in front of me. “Okay, Nik.” He grabbed my hands in his. “Close your eyes. Focus. Bring it in. Imagine a tether, pointing from you to Jack. Like a compass needle.”
“Okay.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured the imagery: the rock walls, Skull Arch, the blue sky. And then I sucked in. And held my breath.
I heard Max snort and then a sound like Cole punching Max in the arm.
“Did it work?” I asked. Nobody answered. I opened my eyes, and the only thing that had changed in the projection was that the path was narrower. The entire thing looked … skinnier. But as I stood there, breathing regularly, it popped wider and back into position.
I could see why Max was trying not to laugh.
“It’s all right,” Cole said, and I was struck with how patient he was being. Cole on the Surface would have made some wiseass remark, but now he was determined to get me through this. Maybe it was because we weren’t working against each other this time. “Okay, Nik. Try it again, only make it smaller. Not skinnier.”
I closed my eyes and pictured everything again, then tried to imagine it growing smaller. But the more I tried, the more it felt as if I were pressing inward on an unbreakable balloon, one that refused to pop.
With my eyes closed and my teeth gritted, I asked, “Is it working?”
“Keep trying, Nik.”
I mentally pressed and pressed on the balloon that was my projection, but nothing happened. I focused even harder, squeezing the image inside my head. I could feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead.
“That’s enough, Nik.”
“But I think I’m doing it!”
“No you’re not. But you’re sweating through your clothes.”
I opened my eyes. He was right.
“Okay, let’s try a different approach,” Cole said. “I think this all happened because you were letting every single feeling you’ve ever had about Jack out at the same time. Maybe if we focus on one specific memory.” He glanced around at all of the pictures of Jack that were plastered over the rocks. He gestured toward a nearby boulder, the face of which was covered with a moving picture: two hands, one small and delicate, one large and boyish. The hands would start out palm to palm, measuring against each other. Then they would clasp together. And then the little movie snippet would start over again.
“This hand thing shows up a lot,” Cole said. “Why don’t you focus on it? Sit down, close your eyes, and tell me about the memory behind it.”
The memory behind it. The night I wondered if Jack would ever see me as anything other than a little sister. The night another boy got in our way.
“Okay.”
FRESHMAN YEAR
The Surface. My house.
“How are you going to answer the Boze?” Jack asked.
We were sitting on my front porch after an evening jog took Jack right by my house. He had stopped midrun to find out if I’d been asked to Junior Prom. He’d heard a rumor.
I rolled my eyes. “I have no idea. My dad is still getting used to the fact that a boy known simply as Bozeman asked his only daughter to her first dance.” I shrugged. “I think my mom is helping him warm up to the idea.”
Jack gave me a playful shove with his shoulder. “Maybe he’s worried because of the age difference.”
I smiled, but Jack had a point. I was pretty sure I’d be one of the few freshmen there.
“It’s not so much that he’s older,” I said. “It would help if the Boze weren’t so dang big.”
“He’s the perfect size when I’m on the line.” Jack was quarterback, and Bozeman was often the only thing standing between him and a sack.
“I know, but have you seen his hands?” I said. I held my hand flat out in the air. Compared to other girls my age I was average height, but my hands were small. My mom always cursed this fact when she was trying to teach me to play the piano.
Jack held his hand out and put it palm to palm against mine. My fingers almost ended before his even began.
He laughed and bent his fingers over mine.
“Exactly!” I said. “And Bozeman’s hands are bigger than yours. Can you imagine them holding mine?” I shook my head, and Jack went quiet. I was suddenly very aware that he was still holding my hand.
When I looked up at him, he was frowning. I thought maybe it was because he was trying to figure out a way to let go of my hand, so I pulled mine away.
“Anyway …,” I said. “You want to help me answer the Boze?”
Finally, an easy smile.
At the store, we wandered the candy aisles, brainstorming ridiculous ways to say yes.
Jack pointed to the rack with the candy bars. “‘People would snicker if I didn’t say yes.’”
“Brilliant. Or how about, ‘My face would go red hot if I couldn’t go with you.’”
He grinned. “I’m not sure that conveys the solemnity of the occasion. At least, not as much as …” With a flare, he presented a box of Nerds. “‘Everyone is a nerd compared to you, Boze.’”
I giggled. “Or we could go for simple and straightforward. Something that needs no other words. The answer is all in the name.”
I pulled a Skor candy bar from behind my back. Jack registered the name, but he didn’t laugh like I thought he would. His cheeks went red, and he turned away.
His reaction surprised me, but I was pretty sure I knew why. Jack had always thought of me as a kid. Instead of looking at me, he held up a package of Red Vines and studied the list of ingredients as if it were a treasure map.
“I’m only six months younger than you, you know,” I said.
He shrugged, then put down the Red Vines and grabbed a Baby Ruth. “‘Even though I’m practically a baby, I’ll go with you,’” he said, not a trace of playfulness in his voice.
It was my turn to blush. He always joked about being so much older than me because he was twice my size and a grade ahead. It shouldn’t have bugged me.
But it did.
I threw the Skor bar at his head, a little harder than I’d meant to.
“Ow.”
“At least I don’t throw like a baby.” I took a step closer. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Jack Caputo.”
I spun around and stomped down the aisle, acting more like a little girl than I had in a long time.
Jack answered me softly. “I know, Becks. I know.”
We finally settled on a two-liter bottle of Coke with a note attached. “I’d pop to go to the dance with you.”
It made the least sense out of all of our ideas, but Jack said if the Boze didn’t get the picture, then he didn’t deserve to go to the dance with me. He drove us to Bozeman’s neighborhood; and as we turned onto his street, he flipped off
his headlights, parking a few houses down from our target.
He reached toward me, and I froze until I realized he was going for the glove compartment. My cheeks went pink, and I was glad to be hidden in shadows.
He pulled out something dark and slammed the compartment door shut.
“Here.” He threw the dark thing in my lap. I held it up near the window to get a good look at it. It was a black knit ski mask.
“Isn’t that going a little overboard?”
I looked at him and choked on a laugh. Jack had pulled a nylon stocking over his head, and his facial features were smushed together and flattened out. He smiled, and the tightness of the stocking made him look deranged.
“I borrowed this from my mom.”
I struggled to compose myself. “It totally suits you.”
There was no way I’d look dorkier than him, so I pulled the ski mask down over my face and we got out of the car, Jack carrying the soda bottle.
We crept up to Bozeman’s porch, me a few steps behind Jack. He set down the bottle. The porch light went on, and we both froze. No one opened the door, and we realized it was on a motion sensor.
Jack looked at me and nodded as if to say Ready?
I nodded back.
He rang the doorbell, and we took off running as if our lives depended on it. Jack went to the passenger side and opened my door for me.
“Now’s not the time for chivalry!” I whisper-yelled.
He ran around the car, got in, turned the key, and floored the gas pedal down the street. It wasn’t until we were out of Bozeman’s neighborhood that he finally let up and turned on his headlights. When he did, I stared with dread at a piece of paper on the seat next to Jack. It was the note that was supposed to go with the soda.
“You forgot the note!” I said.
Jack looked down at it, but he didn’t look surprised. “Well, if the Boze can’t figure it out, he doesn’t deserve to go.”
“Figure it out? He’s going to open the door and find a bottle of Coke sitting there with no explanation!”
“If the Boze can’t use his imagination to figure out that you’re saying yes …”
Everbound: An Everneath Novel Page 10
