Wakers: Sayonara Sleep

by Michaela Hoffman

  “They won’t,” Uncle Hugo reassured. “For legal reasons.”

  “Legal reasons?” My phone rang and it was Jax. I slid out from the counter and went outside for some fresh air.

  “How are you holding up?” He asked.

  “I just have some frustrated energy,” I said, kneeling down by the garden. “At present, I’m getting it out.” I pulled on a few stubborn weeds.

  “Do you think they’ll search for Aza too? Along with your dad?” I felt a raindrop on my nose and looked up. The clouds had turned rough and stormy.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “From the articles, it sounds like they’re narrowing in on Falconbridge cases.”

  He waited before responding. “What if… they took her too?” Peering over my shoulder, I caught Uncle Hugo watching me from the window. The rain began to pick up, so I headed back inside.

  “Jax, if they find her bones in a lab there, it won’t change things. She’s still gone.”

  ***

  Garth landed like a seaplane into an ocean. He guided us to the docks and helped everyone dismount safely. Seawall was a territory literally entrenched in water. It sat at the base of a fjord, surrounded by a circle of waterfalls. Wakers paddled around in glass-bottomed canoes, strings of tea lights illuminating the sterns. They had simple floating huts and underwater villas, plus a marketplace in the center of the territory. I could make out shadows of fins, flippers, and horns on the inhabitants as they passed us. Part human, part marine.

  “This is the only place we leave empty handed,” Bast explained. “A Seawall Waker gives Skyplume a water supply. In payment, we grow food for his territory.”

  I dipped my hand into the steaming waters, gentle and warm like a hot spring, alive with the heartbeats of colorful creatures swimming underneath. The light tug of the current pulled us in the direction of the castle; glass-like and transparent, it sat within a waterfall. The turrets disappeared heavenward into thick mist.

  We hauled the vegetables to the palace gates. Amazons with narwhal tusks guided us past overgrowths of lavender and silver-green herbs. A dusting of plant light led our way. And beyond the foyer, the walls seemed to tower for miles overhead, as open and clear as aquarium glass. Everywhere was sea life: we were up close to the cartoonish curl of a jellyfish’s ink trail, and the jagged teeth of a hammerhead shark. Even Quanita appeared intimidated when glancing sideways. One amazon stepped forward and silenced us with a high trill.

  “We need your sacrifices before proceeding,” she demanded. Prompted, two Wakers from our crew gingerly stepped forward with outstretched arms. A masked man, head to toe in black clothing, swept in from behind the amazons. With gloved hands, he snapped metal clasps over the Wakers’ wrists.

  “I’ll get out of these,” one challenged, chinking her chains. He leaned close to her face, only one eye and mouth uncovered by his mask.

  “Go ahead,” he said with a laugh. “You’ll be the first.” With a wave of his cloak he left the room. Two amazons escorted the chained Wakers away from our party.

  I pulled on Quanita’s sleeve. “What just happened?” She shushed me.

  “Czar Renezen will now greet Guardian Char,” announced another amazon. After receiving a confirming nod from Bast, I stepped forward. She looked me over and gestured for me to follow her down a hallway. Glowing life swam in our peripheries and overhead, shaping the walls and domed ceilings. We were halfway down the passage when I caught Quanita at a distance behind. At my acknowledgment, she ducked behind a pillar and pressed a finger to her lips. Her features became distorted and jello-like.

  Wordlessly, the amazon opened two broad doors for me. I stepped out into cool mist. Small lanterns and lavender sat along a limestone path. I walked it carefully, breathing in the hypnotic fall of water. The path led to a gazebo with marble pillars. A person was standing inside of it, looking out at the nearby waterfalls.

  Before I could clear my throat, he abruptly turned, looking so much like a complete shadow that I almost lost him. It was the man from before. Every patch of skin was covered by fish-scale fabric and his mask covered most of his face. A long cloak settled over his shoulders, rippling by his boots. Only one blue eye stared back at me.

  “Let’s skip the formalities,” he said. “I’m the ruler here.”

  “And you already know who I am.” I hesitated for a moment. “What will you do to those Wakers?” He pocketed his hands and stepped down to my level.

  “I’ve made a clasp that Binds Wakers here,” he said. “So they no longer Reawaken in Reality.”

  I shook my head. “You trap them in this dream… and why would you do that?”

  With an upturned lip, he shrugged. “I like the company.” The Czar gestured for me to sit down on a bench.

  I folded my arms. “No thanks. I won’t be here long,” I said. “Can I have my trinket?”

  He snickered as he returned to the gazebo. Once again, the Czar was camouflaged inside of it. “It’s yours with conditions.”

  “What kind of conditions?”

  “If you complete your guardian training here,” he said. “After you have the Seal of course.”

  “No offense, but I’d rather stay in Skyplume.”

  “Then you won’t get my trinket.” Hello, severe royal brat complex. With a huff, I marched up the gazebo steps and stood beside him. The Czar kept his gaze straight ahead while slouched over the rail.

  “Can I at least appeal to your humanity?”

  “You’re assuming I have any.”

  I draped an arm over a pillar and drew nearer to him. “All humans have humanity,” I challenged. “Hence the word.”

  His blue eye flickered to me for a moment. “Is that so?” The Czar turned to lean his back against the rail.

  I reached out for his shoulder. “Listen, I’m looking for—”

  And he swatted my hand away. For a moment, we stared at each other. The coolness of his eye almost made me shiver. “I know who you’re looking for,” he said. “And you can’t find your sister without my help. So let’s make one thing clear.” The Czar bent closer to my face. “I have the power here.” The cloak swelled as he turned on his heel to leave. What did this guy just say to me? Instinctively, I jumped on his back. His knees buckled beneath us and we clumsily fell in a mangled heap. In my hand was his face mask. Our breathing rhythms wove together.

  “Ha! Now who has—”

  “Please,” he begged, covering his exposed face. “Please give it back.” His voice sounded younger now, melding into the softness of the falls. I gripped the mask tighter and took a deep breath. Without a word, I placed it back over his head.

  “If you are the face of your people, why do you hide it?”

  Czar Renezen slowly got to his feet. “To keep a distance,” he said. With a glance in my direction, he headed back towards the palace. “My offer stands,” he called over his shoulder.

  When the Czar was gone, Quanita crawled out from a viney shrub near the double doors. She offered a wave. “You’re bolder than I thought,” she said. “Come down so we can meet the others at the marketplace. Garth will have a feculent puke if we’re late for takeoff.” I headed off with Quanita under the vault of a waterfall.

  Back at the docks, we stepped into a glass canoe loaded up with cauliflower, tomatoes, and broccoli. Together, we paddled past a small beach beside the landing. Its sand was shiny with shells and seaglass. Heading through an arched frame, draped with moss, our tea-light strings served as lamplight. I looked out behind us, past the steamy swirls of mist rising from the sea. The glass castle of rainbow life was barely visible now.

  Quanita whacked me with her oar. “Please don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for the hot springs king,” she said, plucking a mesh of seaweed off the handle. “You can crush on his digs though. That castle is like something from—”

  “A fairytale,” I whispered.

  “Hey, no turning into the Czar’s soggy cinderella. Got that?” At her words, I immediately checke
d my fingerpads. Puckered and aged from the humidity, my hands resembled those of an old woman. Okay, that was a little creepy. The startup of Quanita’s powerful paddling jolted me forward and sideways. I toppled overboard in a thick splash.

  As strange as it sounds, I felt like I was inside of an immense womb. The pulse, the heartbeat, even the breath of this ocean was so visceral to me in that moment, I felt more spiritual in my connection to the world than human. I wanted it to enfold me, to make me part of it somehow.

  And I was wretched upwards with a mighty pull from the water’s surface. I opened my eyes to Quanita’s indignant frown. My breath quickened as I shivered in the damp heat. “If you do that again,” she snapped, “you’ll die. Literally, dissolve in the ocean.”

  I got to my knees and continued to cough. “In the dark version of my favorite fairytale,” I wheezed, “that actually happens to the mermaid.” She bopped me over the head with her oar again.

  “Enough of the fantasy references. Let’s not dissolve today. Or I’ll jump in there and kick your watery ass. Now start paddling princess.” Like a child, I obeyed.

  We sidled up beside a line of other glass canoes carrying Skyplume Wakers. With our vegetables, we were adding on to the Seawall marketplace. Seawall Wakers drifted in and we filled their muslin sacks with produce. Most of them were quiet and gentle, meekly bowing in gratitude before paddling away to the next canoe. Some Seawall Wakers had marine children. I took a particular interest in an octopus family.

  The large eyes of three children peeked through the transparent siding, their yellow tentacles pressed against one another playfully. I offered them three eggplants. Their shy tentacles extended towards me and suctioned to the purple nightshades, then brought the prizes to their small mouths. The father smiled graciously and patted my shoulder. It left a slimy residue.

  “My name is Ceph,” he said, “these are my adopted Waker daughters.”

  “I’m Char,” I said. Quanita wrapped an arm around my neck.

  “Guardian in training,” she added, ignoring the slime. Their eyes expanded and Ceph bowed in his canoe, a complex tangle of limbs. His daughters eagerly followed suit.

  “Guardian Char,” he said, “I am the Shamen of this territory. My temple is behind the palace. It is always open to you.” He raised his head to look at me. As wet, slimy, and disheveled as I felt, Ceph’s admiring gaze made me feel noble. Quanita elbowed me in the awkwardness.

  “T-thank you,” I managed. “I will remember that.” He smiled kindly, bowed again, and returned to paddling. His daughters waved during their departure through the moon-stained water. I turned to Quanita. “How are they so nice, and the Czar so nasty?”

  She folded her arms. “You could say he made them that way. Submissive, I mean.” Quanita got up to fill a bag for another Seawall Waker. When she returned she sat across from me, spread-legged and unlady-like but uniquely stunning with her amethyst body art. Quanita slung her arms across the side of the canoe and spoke with a lifted chin. “I knew the Czar would give you a hard time. He and the first Guardian had more than a few spats.”

  What a shocker. “Did he Bind them?” I asked.

  She sighed and threw me a half-glance. “The last time we saw her, she was going to see Renezen. That’s all I’m sure of. So be careful around him.” A deep and rumbling buzz seemed to shake the earth beneath us. Vegetables rolled everywhere as the ocean waves rocked us back and forth. “That’s Garth. Better head back.” She threw me an oar. “His internal clock keeps track of our sleep/wake cycles,” Quanita said over her shoulder. “It’s a Carri-Sect thing. So on the Other Side we don’t oversleep.”

  Garth met us at the palace courts where we tethered our canoes to the landings. As a group, we climbed onto his back. Garth then assumed seaplane mode, leaving a cloud of spray in our wake.

  En transit, I elbowed Bast. “Is time different here?”

  He had to hollar over the noise. “It’s unpredictable. All we know is that it moves forward.”

  “How do you know that?” I yelled back, trying to tame my wild hair.

  “Because one person ages here.”

  ***

  Chapter 7

  We had been granted outdoor class time to work on our new school project. In short, we had to take pictures of people in all stages of the lifespan, conduct interviews, and present our subjective findings. It was just more busy-work to add to our semester. I mean, come on. We’re born, we try, bad things happen, and then we die. End of lifespan. Did we really have to explore this further?

  Clover and I were at the park beside campus. She had just approached a father for permission to interview his children. I waited for her on a bench, watching a child sitting alone in the sandbox. He looked similar to a boy I knew when I was much younger.

  When we were kids, Jax and I heard giggling in the Falconbridge common area; it was coming from a huddle of boys and girls. When I pushed past them, I realized that they were coloring on someone who had catatonia. A young boy, with a look so distant you’d think he was an ice sculpture.

  “Stop bullying him,” I snapped, rounding on all of them. “Or I’ll—”

  “Taddle to Daddy?” One taunted. “And since when do you care? You just ignore him.” My cheeks flamed. He picked up another marker and resumed coloring on the boy’s arm. The kids around him followed suit.

  Then Dad appeared, glasses crooked, hair tousled, and lab coat wrinkled. He knelt down to us quietly. With a few words from him, the group calmly disbanded. Jax and I were left alone with my father.

  “Both sides were not right,” he said. Before I could open my mouth in protest, Dad got up and walked over to the cabinet. “Lava. Jax,” he said, gathering items from the shelves. “To tease. To ignore. Aren’t these both forms of bullying?” My father’s words were observant rather than judgmental.

  “But there’s nothing else we can do,” Jax surmised. Dad ruffled his hair before spilling colored pencils and sheets of paper on the floor. My father sat crossed legged beside the frozen boy. He gestured for me and Jax to join him.

  “I disagree,” Dad said, handing us paper and pencils. “When the popular options don’t work, think of an option no one’s considered yet.” He picked an orange pencil and began outlining a cat. My father chatted with the frozen boy, showing him the picture as he added more to it. Jax and I also started coloring and talking as if the boy could hear us. Because, as Dad explained it, on some level he could.

  Mauricio wheeled up beside me. “I have something to ask you,” he said. “My mom is the lead investigator for the Falconbridge cases—”

  “Congratulations.”

  Clover bounced back to us with smiles until she read our expressions. He shook his head.

  “Look. I didn’t know Dr. Darkus was your dad.” Clover’s eyes widened as she turned to me for confirmation. Flipping fantastic.

  “You said you were going to ask me something.”

  Detecting my edginess, he proceeded on verbal tiptoe. “I’ve always followed these cases and I know as much as any investigator. So, what if we solve this together? Using evidence that Mom’s found.”

  Oh, for the love of persimmons. “No thanks,” I said, standing up. “I’ll leave it to the professionals. Clover, you ready?” She nodded, and we headed toward our interviewees.

  Mauricio called out after us. “Please think about it.”

  On my walk home from school, I stopped by Silver Heights to see Ms. Kazuya and tell her about the week. Getting volunteer hours at the nursing home was part of my curriculum, as this was a potential job setting after I graduated. However, I usually just went to be with the residents that I knew as a kid. In a lot of ways, they were my family. I passed the empty front desk and headed toward the assisted living unit. Framed puzzles and resident artwork adorned the salmon walls. Some friendly faces stopped with their walkers and wheelchairs to squeeze my hand and give me genuine smiles.

  Jax caught me at the elevator with a handful of towels. He was in
his typical CNA scrubs. “Haven’t seen you in awhile,” he said, after the residents rolled off towards the dining area.

  I readjusted the backpack on my shoulders. “I don’t need a hideout anymore,” I said. “I’m sleeping again.” This was sort of true, anyway.

  He patted me on the shoulder. “See how well things turn out when you listen to me?”

  “I was wrong and you were right,” I admitted, unabashed. I slung my backpack onto the carpeting and pulled out a tin of organic coffee grounds. “I came to apologize to Ms. Kazuya and replenish her coffee stock.”

  Jax frowned at the mention of her name. “She hasn’t been doing too well Lava. She’s been pretty confused, calling everyone by her son’s name. Her labs and vitals have been off too.”