Race the Night

by Kirsten Hubbard

  “Hello,” Eider said.

  With a lightning-quick flash of tail, the kit fox took off. Eider jogged a few steps after it, then realized she had no idea where the little animal had gone.

  She felt even more alone.

  “But not for long,” she said out loud. “I won’t be alone for much longer.”

  Because if she said it out loud, it was real.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said out loud.

  EIDER WOKE TO A WHOOSHING SOUND.

  It was the strangest sensation. Not the sound, but the waking. Because she didn’t remember going to sleep. If she had gone to sleep on purpose, she certainly wouldn’t have lain down like this, with her chin in the dirt.

  “Ugh,” she said, sitting up. All her muscles ached. She brushed the dirt from her chin and stomach, then froze.

  Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

  In the hazy gray morning, something moved. Something huge. Not just one, but many—a dozen or more, spread out across the desert panorama before her. White spikes with white arms that slowly spun. Like robot angels. They were the biggest things Eider had ever seen.

  She had no idea if they were dangerous. Should she be scared? She didn’t feel scared. Maybe because they seemed familiar, somehow….

  Windmills!

  Like the ones on the ranch. So they were generating electricity—tons of electricity, judging by their size.

  Eider stood on a ridge and watched them, the robot angel windmills. They were nearly silent, like the seabirds she’d seen. Barely a whisper of sleek white wings. Capturing energy from the air. But energy for what? Something big, that was for sure.

  Then she noticed a white flutter, riding the same breeze that spun the windmills. She hurried over and grabbed it. Only a napkin, but it made her smile. A moment later, she spotted something else—dark, this time, and larger.

  “Ha!” she exclaimed, picking it up.

  It was another housing-development pamphlet, exactly like her other one. Was it a coincidence? Or did it have deeper meaning?

  Was she getting close?

  Eider stuffed it into her pack and hiked onward.

  The desert sameness changed into other kinds of sameness, until nothing around Eider was the same at all.

  The ground sloped and rose until it became hills and valleys, pitching and rolling all around her. The ground grew rockier. The rocks grew larger. Before she knew it, she was weaving through boulders.

  The hills were covered in boulders, too: big lumpy things, like the giants in her fairytale book. As if at any moment, they might unfold from where they crouched, unfurl their rocky arms, and bellow into the sky.

  Shade was easy to find now, as Eider hiked around the boulders. But even in the sun, it wasn’t as hot. And there were green things everywhere. Even actual trees.

  Then she heard a soft, electric murmur, not unlike the sound of Finch’s radio. She followed it to the tiniest, narrowest brook, trickling between a cleft in the rocks.

  “Water!” she yelled.

  Her bottle wouldn’t fit, so she cupped her hands in the water and lifted it to her face. It was like drinking dreams. Moonlight and shooting stars.

  Eider stayed there ten minutes, slowly slurping, until at last she’d had her fill. Then she sank down beside the brook, her back against a boulder. She felt content. Not only content—safe, in her maze of boulders.

  What would happen if she climbed one?

  Once she’d thought it, she knew she had to. She scaled a lower boulder, then another. She was careful—so careful. If she hurt herself, there would be nobody to help her this time. Slowly, she stood.

  She was on top of the world.

  A world so vast, so colorful and dizzying, Eider instantly dropped into a crouch. She waited until her knees stopped shaking, then stood again.

  In front of her, the boulder-strewn hills lumped and folded and spread out, high and low, brown and green, rolling forever into the distance. A hazy distance, but even greener.

  She saw vast canyons and high hills, maybe mountains.

  She saw a road! A big one. It was far away, but it was definitely a road. With automobiles moving on it, she thought.

  She saw dozens and hundreds and millions of things. She saw the whole wide world in front of her. Where it has always been.

  But what about behind her?

  Carefully, she turned.

  The difference was startling. The boulder-strewn hills receded sooner than she’d thought, for how long she’d hiked. And after that, there was only desert. Layers of beige, rolling, then crumbling like crushed fish bones into the sea. Which she could see from here, too: the sea that wasn’t the sea. She knew how huge it was, up close. But from way up here, it looked like a lake. A pond. A puddle.

  How had she ever mistaken it for the real sea? The clear blue sea with huge, crashing waves?

  Eider turned west again, facing the whole wide world. Somewhere, the real sea still existed. The ocean. She believed it was there, even if she couldn’t see it. More than ever before, she wished she could spread her arms and soar for real. As beautiful as the world was, she still had to cross it. She had a long way to go.

  But maybe not so long anymore.

  “ROBIN!” Eider screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Her voice bounced from boulder to boulder, spreading through the hills like the sweetest birdsong. For a split second, Robin was everywhere. Ringing in Eider’s ears, even as she climbed back down.

  Back in her shady place, Eider remembered Finch’s radio.

  She got it out and cradled it on her lap. Turned it on and swiveled the dial. Tapped the wires. Then she paused. Sounds she’d never heard before tickled her eardrums.

  Music. It was music!

  Eider swiveled the dial again. She heard a man’s voice—he was talking about sushi. That made her laugh. Another swivel: more music, this time with a thumping beat and a woman’s voice singing. She couldn’t understand the words—maybe they were in a different language.

  So many people broadcasting. Did that mean Eider was close to a real town? She hadn’t seen one from up above, but those automobiles had to be heading somewhere.

  She turned the dial a little more. And then she heard another voice—not singing, but talking. A voice she knew. But not Teacher’s.

  “—we’re here. We’re the kids at the desert ranch, out past the sea. We’re all okay, but we need help….”

  It was her friends.

  EIDER’S CIRCADIAN RHYTHMS HAD GONE all wonky.

  She walked and slept, sometimes for a couple hours and sometimes longer, in the dark and in the light. She wasn’t sure which she preferred. The daytime wasn’t so hot anymore, but the night didn’t seem as frightening.

  Especially as she walked beside the big road. There weren’t many automobiles at night. In the daytime, they moved scary-quick. Zooming toward her in an ever-increasing rush, until they passed with a ROAR! and the rush faded.

  But it wasn’t just the speed that made her nervous. It was the Other People inside. If they saw her and stopped—how could Eider know they weren’t dangerous?

  There was no way of knowing. She’d trusted Teacher, after all.

  But she kept the road in sight, or at least in mind. Always to her right as she walked, hiked, climbed.

  Once, Eider realized she was walking into a canyon—the ground had descended so gradually, she hadn’t noticed. She trudged back toward the road. When she reached the top, she realized it was nearing a second road. Not far ahead, they crossed.

  She pulled out her pamphlet and looked at the map.

  When she glanced up again, her heart jerked. An automobile had pulled over, just as she’d feared. Before she could figure out what to do, the window rolled down. A woman with curly blond hair leaned out.

  “Hey!” the woman said. “Are you okay?”

  Eider wondered if she should run. But the woman didn’t look dangerous. Unlike Teacher’s crocodile concern, hers seemed genuine.

  “
I’m—” Eider’s voice came out a dusty croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You’re pretty far outside of town.”

  Town? She was near a town? “How far?”

  “Almost a mile.”

  Eider didn’t have to fake her grin. A mile was nothing. “Oh, okay! I’ll head back right now.”

  “Want me to drive you there?”

  Talking to Other People was one thing. Climbing in somebody’s automobile was another. “No, that’s all right. I like walking.” Eider paused. “But by any chance…do you have some water?”

  “You’re in luck.” The woman rummaged around, then held a water bottle out the window. “Next time, bring your own, okay?”

  Eider nodded. Then she turned and ran back into the canyon, skidding and sliding, but managing to stay on her desert-trained feet. She waited until the automobile drove away before climbing back out. Still grinning.

  A town! She was on the right track.

  Then came the bridge, arching over the canyon. It was unlike anything Eider had ever imagined, but dreamlike just the same. She walked along its edge, trying not to look down. Halfway across, she glanced at her map again. The housing development should be right on the other side.

  She didn’t see the housing development.

  But she saw buildings. Lots of them. And roads, crisscrossing in all different directions. She didn’t know where to go, or where to look. Her head spun, and part of her felt like throwing up.

  “What’s up?”

  It was a pair of boys, sitting on a bench. They both held sandwiches, which made Eider’s mouth water. She’d finished the last of her food a day ago. “Nothing,” she muttered, then hurried away.

  After a second, she slowed. Before her nervousness could take over, she turned around and came back.

  “Could you please tell me where all the houses are?” she asked the boys.

  “Houses?” one of them repeated.

  She held out her pamphlet. “These ones.”

  “Ah, the new construction.” The other boy pointed his sandwich. “Just down that road. When you get to the end, hang a right.”

  Eider was exhausted. Battered by every type of emotion. But somehow, her legs were running again. Down the road. Colors and textures flashed by on either side, walls and windows and rooftops. But she kept running. At the end of the road, she turned right—where she saw a sign.

  Welcome Home!

  The same happy, swirly letters as in Eider’s pamphlet. She had arrived!

  But…there were no homes. Only skeletons.

  For a moment, Eider wondered if the world really had ended. But she knew for a fact that wasn’t true.

  The houses weren’t broken-down like the ruins she’d seen in the desert. But they weren’t homes, either. They were spines and ribs. She could see right through from room to room. Concrete for floors, like the slabs. Sometimes, no ceilings at all.

  She walked down the street, between the skeleton houses, her heart sinking and sinking. The homes weren’t the only thing the pamphlet had gotten wrong. The images had showed big, bushy trees. But here, there were no trees. No flowers. No green, grassy lawns.

  No sky-blue couches with families on them.

  No happily ever after.

  Eider knew she’d been silly to hope. But she’d come so far. She’d been through so much. And now she’d reached the end of her plan.

  With nothing else to do, she kept walking. At the end of the street, she reached a fence. The gate wasn’t padlocked, so she pushed it open—and saw a massive hole in the ground. It was edged in ceramic squares. Eider stepped closer, peering inside.

  Suddenly, someone grabbed her and yanked her backward. Before Eider could scream, the person let her go.

  “You almost fell in! Not the best idea, with the water still missing.”

  It was a girl, close to Eider’s age. Her skin was dark, like Linnet’s, and her hair was wound in two neat bunches on her head. She wore a bright red coat with crisscrossing lines running through it. And she was smiling.

  “What is it for?” Eider asked. “The hole?”

  “Supposed to be our community swimming pool,” the girl said. “My family’s going to move into one of these houses. If they ever finish them, that is. Are you going to live here too?”

  “No, I just…I saw the papers. The glossy ones.”

  “Oh, those!” The girl shoved up her sleeves to the elbow, but they immediately fell forward again. “I’m pretty sure they’re what convinced my parents. Do you live near here?”

  At that, Eider had to laugh. “I live very far away,” she said, then paused. “Lived.”

  “How far away? No offense, but…you’re kind of a mess.”

  Eider glanced down at herself. She was a mess. Dirt caked her boots. Her overalls and arms, too. She had no idea what her hair looked like, but it was probably a fright.

  “Are you all right?” the girl asked.

  Eider nodded. But the girl kept staring at her, with the strangest expression.

  “The thing is,” she said, “you look like somebody I know. Or somebody I used to know—I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “‘Her’?”

  “Yeah, a little girl.”

  Time stood still. Eider swallowed. “A little girl?”

  “Not super little, but younger than us. Her eyes and hair and skin are just like yours. And something about your faces…” The girl pushed back her plaid sleeves again. “Do you have any cousins?”

  “No,” Eider said. “No cousins.”

  “Her brother’s my best friend.” She paused. “Well, he was my best friend.”

  A brother? Eider’s hope died in her chest like a fallen bird. She felt like crying, but didn’t want to embarrass herself.

  “She was adopted, though. They look nothing alike. Not like the two of you do.”

  “Adopted?” Eider repeated. How did she know that word? Then she remembered—from one of the torn-out World Book pages she’d found. Something Teacher hadn’t wanted her to know about. The scar on her ankle twinged.

  “Yeah. I wish I could take you to meet her, but she’s not here anymore.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  The girl shook her head. “But my friend might know. Do you want to meet him? I mean, it’ll be kind of awkward—we didn’t part ways on the best note.”

  Eider shrugged, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you hop up on my handlebars?”

  When Eider paused, the girl tapped between the handles of her bike. “Oh,” Eider said, and climbed on.

  “I’m Alice, by the way.”

  “I’m Eider.”

  “Eider! I’ve never heard that name before.”

  “Me neither,” Eider said, holding on tight. “What’s her name? The little girl?”

  “Kit,” Alice replied.

  “Oh,” Eider said again, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. Then, because it was becoming an emergency, “Alice? Is there anywhere I could go to the bathroom?”

  “Sure,” Alice said, giggling. “There’s a gas station a couple blocks away. The bathroom door’s always unlocked.”

  A few minutes later, they pulled up beside a low, squat building. Signs in the windows read SUPERLOTTO TICKETS SOLD HERE! and ICE-COLD BEER! Eider didn’t understand either one, but she figured that was a feeling she’d have to get used to.

  Alice pointed to a door that said WOMEN. “No offense,” she said, “but while you’re in there, you might want to wash your face. You look like you fell in the Salton Sea or something.”

  The Salton Sea?

  Eider shut the door behind her. She stared at herself in the cracked, foggy mirror. She was dirty—dirtier than she’d ever been.

  Luckily, the water from the faucet poured and poured. She stuck her head under it and drank. Then she used a whole stack of papers to scrub her face, her neck, her arms all the way up to the elbows. The rest of her
would have to wait.

  Eider looked at herself in the mirror again. At her eyes and hair and skin.

  “Kit,” she said out loud. “Like a fox.”

  “Want me to take you the scenic route?” Alice asked as Eider climbed back onto her handlebars. “You’ll get to see more of town that way.”

  “Okay,” Eider agreed. Her scar twinged and twinged. As if she’d somehow pressed a button under her skin. Switched it on.

  It really was a town. A real town. Not a fairytale village or an end-of-the-world city, but a real, normal town. With banks and a post office. More gas stations. Grocery stores and restaurants. Fast-food restaurants!

  “My school’s right over there,” Alice said. “Where do you go to school?”

  “Where I live,” Eider said. “Lived.”

  “So you’re homeschooled? That’s such a coincidence! My friend used to be homeschooled, too. His sister—the one you look like—still was. Maybe because she doesn’t talk.”

  “She doesn’t talk?”

  Alice didn’t answer right away. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I forgot you can’t see me shake my head. No, she doesn’t talk. Or she didn’t to me, anyway. I never knew why….”

  Don’t say anything, Eider had said.

  Not a word, until I find you.

  The hand around her heart tightened. She held her eyes closed, then looked again. And looked. And looked.

  There was so much to take in. So much! Eider tried to concentrate, to focus her senses the way she’d been taught in Extrasensory, but it was impossible. Finally, she relaxed. She let everything crash into her in an infinite wave, sparkling and colorful and noisy and terrifying and so, so exciting. The world. The real world. Real life.

  It was here.

  It had always been here. When Eider was hopping through obstacle courses and learning to see in the dark, it was here. When she was in bed with rattlesnake fever and crying over Robin, it was here. All these people were here, going about their daily lives in the real world that still existed. Had always existed.