by Silver, Anna
“This road dead ends into another one,” Kim said from the driver’s seat. He leaned forward as if he could see farther ahead that way. “It’s paved.”
“How paved?” London asked, shaken from her memory.
“You know—paved paved. Not totally fresh but pretty good for the fringes of Ag.” The truck slowed. “I don’t know which way to go.”
“Go left,” Zen told him. “That’s west. We’re probably screwed either way.”
“Great,” London muttered.
Tora reached for her. “Concentrate. We might not have much time. This could be your last chance. Now relax.”
“Oh, okay. Because telling me we’re out of time and it’s my last chance is sooo relaxing.” London fisted her hands in her lap. But then she took a breath and did as Tora asked. Breathing in and out. Closing off everything that was a distraction. Opening herself to that same feeling she’d known only once before.
She could feel Tora in front of her, her green eyes like chisels chipping away at her defenses. Relaxing like this meant letting the Seer in all the way. That’s why Tora said she would have to trust her. London would have to let her guard down to succeed.
She took another breath and allowed her shoulders to slump. Feeling her jaw slacken, she backed deeper into herself. Let the Seer follow her here. She wouldn’t find any more than she already knew—a broken heart.
That’s when his face appeared again, as she’d seen it on the screen. This time, she didn’t resist. She studied it, no matter how much it pained her. His hair was longer now. Where it had once stuck up in messy spikes, it fell straight around his clove colored eyes. Dark cinnamon lashes softened the fox-like contour of his gaze. He’d put on a little weight too, but not much. She could see it in his face, rounding his high cheekbones and sharp chin. Probably he was eating better with the Tycoons than he ever had in his life. Pin point freckles dusted his nose, barely visible. His shoulders were still broad and square, the lean muscle beneath his dark green shirt more prominent than before. Beyond that she could see nothing else.
A broken sob rose in her like a wave and she rode it to the surface where it burst and receded away, taking his face with it. There was nothing else now. Only the darkness. London was lost in it.
Tora’s voice cut through the void to her consciousness. “That’s right. Let it all go, London.”
London ? Was that her name? In this space she almost wasn’t sure. The blackness swallowed things like names. It erased everything that once mattered. But the voice carried on anyway.
“You’re completely relaxed. Withdrawn so deeply inside yourself that you’ve come out the other side. You’ve reached the infinite you. This is the part of yourself, the part of Si’dah, that walks with the Astral.”
Through the blackness, a small, green light became visible. It swam closer until it seemed she could reach through it and touch the flowing blades of grass just on the other side.
But another voice sounded as though it were coming down a long tunnel to reach her. “You better hurry up. I can just make out something up ahead. It looks like trucks.”
And then a second, distant voice penetrated. “Shit. It’s a barricade. We’re screwed. I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet, thank goodness for the dark, but they will any minute.”
The first voice, Tora’s, pushed her deeper. “Anything you need is available to you here. Do you understand? Warp the space around you and pull it through.”
She placed a foot through the tear in the blackness and felt the soft tickle of grass on her sole. She dragged her other foot in and perched on the edge of nothing and the Astral, feeling the aliveness around her. Anything was possible here. Even…
“Trucks! Black trucks!” Kim shouted. “I think they’ve seen us.”
Even black trucks. She almost giggled at the simplicity of it all. Everything around her went black as night. The green grass hardened into ebony plating, armoring her in a cocoon of coated steel. Holding that space around her, she stepped back through to the void. Only it wasn’t a void any longer, it was the interior of a black Tycoon regiment truck.
“They’re waving us through! I can’t believe it!” Zen was shouting.
Names. She knew their names. The voices had names. Kim and Zen and Tora. She had a name, too. London. Or was it Si’dah? Either way it was inconsequential. All that mattered was holding the space around her, holding the black armor to her until the danger was gone.
Whoops and hollers reverberated through the metal plates to her. Cheers. Finally, the first voice, Tora’s, broke through to where she was holding on so tightly. “London, you can let go. Let go now.”
London opened her eyes, and for a split second, the reality around her held fast. She could see the sleek interior walls of the Tycoon truck clearly.
“That’s amazing,” Tora said as her eyes met London’s.
With that, everything seemed to ripple and it was gone. Their own messy truck bed of ration boxes and scraps enfolded her and London was back completely. She’d lost the Astral thread she managed to pull through.
“I lost it,” she said, disappointed.
Zen patted her on the back. “You saved our asses is what you did.”
She looked at Tora. “I did?”
Tora nodded, a bright smile lighting her face. “You did. You made this Tigerian bucket of bolts look like a first-rate Tycoon convoy vehicle. They waved us right through. They never even knew it was us.”
“Thought we were one of their own,” Kim added from up front.
“But it’s gone,” London said, still a tad dazed. “I couldn’t hold it.”
Tora looked at London hard. “London, I don’t know if you realize how long you were under. It doesn’t matter that it slipped. We don’t need it anymore. Ag is behind us now.”
London knitted her brows and looked out the window. Sure enough, the blur of trees had replaced that of corn stalks and cow pastures in the night. They’d made it out. Because of her.
Chapter 8
* * *
Changes
ZEN’S HAND HUNG so close to her own that she could feel the warmth radiating from his fingers. He hooked his index finger in her pinky and London shuddered. Why did she ever go along with this? It was Tora’s idea to tell the boys about Rye separately and it made sense at the time, but now London was second guessing being alone with Zen. She needed to get this over with. They couldn’t afford a long stop, not even on the secluded, overgrown farm road where they’d parked behind the dilapidated remains of an old school building. Not with Avery and her Tycoon hounds tracking their every move.
“I wish you’d just tell me,” Zen said, his face earnest in the muted colors of dusk. They’d wandered around the school’s corner to be alone. Once again, they’d agreed to leave the truck to Tora so she could tell Kim in private.
London pulled her hand away and sat on a bit of exposed and rusted bleacher. “It’s not that easy,” London said.
Zen sat down next to her, his firm shoulder bumping against her lean one. “London, whatever it is, I can handle it. If I can handle the truth about Avery, I can handle this. Why don’t you ever trust me enough to just tell me the truth?”
London braided and unbraided a long strand of her hair. I could ask you the same thing, she thought, but she didn’t say it. She looked at Zen and saw strength in the calm gray wells of his eyes. “It’s Rye.”
Zen’s eyebrows drew together. “What about Rye?”
“I saw him at the barn where we got the water. Or a transmission of him anyway. He was describing us to the regiments stationed there over some kind of tele-signaling device. He told them I was dangerous.”
Zen’s throat bobbed as he swallowed the truth of what she was saying. “So he’s alive and he’s helping them, too.”
London nodded. Saying it brought the horror and shock of that realization back fresh and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh London, I’m so sorry” Zen whispered and pulled her to him, pre
ssing her face against the broad, warm expanse of his chest as he stroked her hair.
For a moment, she let herself just crumble, right there in his arms. She knew those big, tender arms could hold all the pieces of her together while she let go. And she needed that, she needed to just let everything go, if only for a second. She was tired of being London and Si’dah. She was tired of being Otherborn.
When she could breathe a little easier, she pulled back and wiped at her face. Zen’s shirt was darker where she’d left a splotch of tears. “I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at it uselessly.
“Don’t be,” Zen smiled.
London peered at him from behind her wet lashes. “I have to say, you don’t seem very surprised. Here I am falling apart and you’re pretty steady. He was your friend, too.”
Zen looked up into the sky as the last of a hazy sunset of teals and oranges disappeared. “I know he was.”
“So…aren’t you sad? Aren’t you crushed?” London angled her body toward Zen, feeling something slide almost imperceptibly between them again, his secret, and wanting to scale that wall.
“I’m disappointed, but I guess Avery has pretty much prepared me for anything.” He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Despite his name, she didn’t believe this unaffected version of Zen. Something wasn’t adding up. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “You sure this doesn’t have anything to do with your secret about Rye?”
Zen avoided her gaze. “No.”
She wasn’t buying it. London pulled his chin toward her until he could no longer avoid her. She put both hands to either side of his face, holding it so he couldn’t turn away. “Zen, are you sure? Is there anything you want to tell me?”
He didn’t budge, didn’t try to turn away, but she felt the muscle in his jaw on one side feather with tension. As last he said with an unwavering gaze, “No.”
London exhaled and started to pull her hands away, but he caught them in his own. “Don’t London. Don’t pull away from me.”
She froze. He was the one keeping secrets, not her. He was the one driving a wedge between them. But for some reason, she couldn’t bear to let him down. She couldn’t bring herself to say or do anything as he leaned into her. She closed her eyes against the softness of his lips on hers, against the touch of his hand at her neck. She let herself dissolve in the tenderness of his kiss. If there were no Si’dah, if there were no Rye, this could be the defining moment of her life. Zen could be everything her heart ever wanted.
But there was Si’dah. And there was Rye. And her heart was already broken.
London pulled away, breaking their kiss, dizzy with the scent of him. “Zen.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I—I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She drew her hands up into her sleeves and stood to go.
“London, please. Don’t leave. I shouldn’t have. It just…happened.” He rose to stand beside her and his face was only centimeters from her own. She could feel the draw of him, like a magnet pulling against her lips. If she didn’t step back now, she’d end up kissing him again and who knows what else. Her heart was too tangled up with seeing Rye to handle this, too.
“No, it’s my fault,” she said backing away. She tried for a casual laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you again.”
Zen stepped toward her. “I don’t think that.”
But London was already turning towards the truck. “It’s late. We gotta hit the road. I think it’s your turn to drive.” She didn’t wait for his response, didn’t turn around to see the look on his face. She knew she couldn’t take what she might find there: hurt, disappointment, rejection. Or even worse: hunger, desire, love.
Whatever Zen’s feelings for her, there was really only one thing she couldn’t handle, one thing driving her toward the truck and away from him. She couldn’t handle what her feelings were becoming for Zen.
THEY DECIDED ON making a wide arc around Capital City and zigzagging their way through an indirect route that moved ever closer to where Zen suspected the Mesa Camp to be. London wasn’t a fan of Maggs, especially now that the memory of Zen’s lips on her own made her pulse race, but she was grateful Zen’s sexual exploits had at least turned up something useful. She wondered though, in spite of her insistence to keep a certain distance between herself and Zen, if she wasn’t just another one of his challenges to forget Avery. She hoped to keep him far enough away not to find out.
So far, it wasn’t working.
Not only was he at her side almost nonstop in the truck, but Geode seemed to find a way of haunting her in the Astral as well. Not more than two nights ago, she’d wandered an endless meadow along the Midplane, warping and unwarping the scenery around her, practicing her gift as Hantu instructed. Only to sense him shadowing her, though he disappeared every time she turned around.
Since her success at warping their truck into looking like a Tycoon convoy vehicle, she was growing more controlled in the Astral and Hantu encouraged her to continue warping with intent to strengthen her focus.
Si’dah had gazed at him and asked, “How does what I manage here have any effect on London’s reality?”
And he’d replied, “Who’s to say what is reality? Is the Astral any less real than London’s world simply because it is malleable? Is water less real than stone because it is fluid? Or air less real than earth because it is harder to see?
“That is not a question you would have asked a lifetime ago. Your Other is growing stronger in you and I’m glad to see it, but don’t let her doubt become yours. You must let your confidence and experience become hers.”
Si’dah felt like her child self again, Anya, when her mentor would scold her ignorance.
Now London sat opposite Zen in the back of the truck, their legs stretched out next to one another as the western landscape slipped past them in dusty layers. She pretended she was studying the lettering on the bottom of an old bottle they picked up at a pit stop outside a long abandoned filling station. But really she was just trying not to notice that he was staring at her with an unflinching gaze.
When she could take it no longer, she snapped. “What? What is it, Zen? You’re freaking me out.”
He didn’t blink, just replied coolly, “There’s something different about you.”
London sighed and set the bottle back in a small crate of scrap. “What are you talking about?”
He squinted as though to bring her into focus. “I don’t know. It’s like you’re changing.”
London combed her fingers through her near-black waves. “If you mean I’m getting bitchier, then I would have to agree.”
But her attempt at humor failed and neither Zen nor Tora, who was now hanging over the front seat studying London with the same intensity, laughed or even cracked a smile.
“I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t look the same to me but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s changed.”
Tora nodded. “I know what you mean. I think it’s in her face. The cheekbones look more angular or something. And her hair is definitely different. It never used to lie like that. Have you been eating much?”
London scowled. “Would you two find something else to ogle? I’m fine. And yes, I’m eating. You saw me scarf two of those Dehydrated Dinner packs just this morning.”
But Tora only considered her quietly. Finally she said, “You think they’re putting something weird in those packs? I mean, something other than the sedatives they put in everything? I hate when we have to eat those.”
Zen shrugged. “Don’t know, but I’ve eaten several since we’ve been on the road and I don’t feel any different.”
“Or look it,” Tora added.
“Who says I feel different?” London crossed her arms. This was really beginning to get on her nerves.
“Don’t you?” Tora asked.
Come to think of it, maybe she did. A little anyway. But London wasn’t about to admit that to these scrutinizers. “No.”
“You haven’t noticed any changes?” Tora seemed skeptical.
London looked away from her as the truck bounced over a series of potholes, not wanting the Seer to read anything in her expression or elsewhere. “Other than my hair? No. And that’s just the weather or hormones or something.” London remembered the regiments outside the barn talking about the twins. “Probably all this fresh air,” she echoed.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Tora said.
Zen just kept staring at her.
“Can you divert your gaze, please!” London bellowed at him.
“Why?” he shrugged nonchalant, leaning on one elbow. “I like this view. A lot. No matter how it changes.”
London felt the blood flood her face and she knew without a mirror that she was blushing crimson from her chest to her ears. She put her face in her hands and huffed her frustration but before she looked up again, she noticed that her cheekbones did seem to press against her palms with a little more prominence than she remembered. Were Zen and Tora right? Was something happening to her that she didn’t understand or was she only detecting it because they’d put the thought in her head?
She tore her fingers through her hair and tried not to think about the fact that Tora was right. London’s hair was notoriously unruly. Or at least it used to be, was supposed to be. Only now, it fell in glossy undulations to the center of her back and tangled far less than the heap of haphazard curls she used to have to deal with. She thought of Hantu and how much he reflected the features of himself and his Other, Degan. But Hantu was in the Astral. This was the real world. Things like that didn’t happen here.
Then Hantu’s words from the night before floated back to her, Who’s to say what is reality?
Trucks also weren’t supposed to be able to shift their appearance from white to black as easy as batting an eye. Hell, dreams weren’t even supposed to be possible. No, mostly things like that didn’t happen here…unless you were Otherborn.