The Rift Frequency

by Amy S. Foster

  I let the song play a little longer. Let him absorb what I told him. Slowly, I put my hand over his hand. I inch a little closer to him. I never imagined I would ever be so physically close to Levi. I can’t imagine being physically close to anyone besides Ezra. To that end, I start to say a mantra of my own. And while I know that what I’m saying to myself is not exactly the entire truth, bringing my boyfriend into the equation makes this whole affair seem like, well, less like an affair.

  This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra.

  While I’m silently saying this, Levi is repeating his own mantra: “I’m safe,” he whispers. “I’m safe. I’m okay.” I sit there unmoving for about ten seconds and then Levi’s eyes fly open and he looks at me with gritted teeth. Shit.

  He takes my hand and flips it over, bending it the wrong way. My wrist could snap in an instant. He forces me to my knees and then he takes his free hand and puts it on the back of my neck, forcing my face in the sand. At this rate I will suffocate in a matter of minutes. I have to remain calm, but he’s going to kill me. My training overrides my good intentions. I kick out with my leg. I get him off balance and he staggers just enough so that I can roll out of reach. He lunges for me again and I block his arms.

  “Levi,” I say calmly, “stop this. Go back to that place in your mind.” Before I can say anything else he gets a good punch in to my eye. It’s a massive wallop and I can feel my lid swelling almost completely shut. It’s going to be near impossible to defend myself when I’m blind in one eye. Yet if I attack more, then this is all for nothing. So I do my best to keep him at bay. We are dancing in a way. He keeps lunging forward and I keep moving my hands and forearms to various positions to block his attack. He gets in a few more punches that I miss because I don’t see them coming, and all the while I try to reason with him: “You’re fighting the Blood Lust and it won’t work! Surrender to it. Acknowledge the pain you’re feeling and try to pull it inside instead of taking it out on me . . . Levi!” I scream.

  But he can’t hear me. He’s lost to it. This won’t work. I have no choice. I don’t want to die. I kick him hard in the abdomen and he goes flying. I leap over to where he lands and before he can get his bearings I put him in a sleeper hold. I squeeze my biceps. I cut off his air supply until he loses consciousness. I release his limp body and sink to my knees.

  Shit. I completely fucked it up.

  I may have saved my own life, but I also may have ruined any chance of Levi’s deprogramming ever working with me. My eye is aching. I’m so tired of this. Watching Levi in the throes of the Blood Lust broke my heart. I know my own deprogramming was brutal. I almost killed Ezra, twice. He never fought back, though. He trusted me enough to know I would never take it that far, even when I myself wasn’t sure. He cared about me enough to want it to work more than he wanted self-preservation. I’m positive that’s not the case with Levi and me. For one thing, I don’t love Levi, so I’m not willing to die for his transition. For another, though, Levi’s Blood Lust is different from mine. He becomes primal, more animal than man. He himself may not be able to distinguish his emotions outside of the Blood Lust, but I saw every one of them on his face and in his eyes. There was so much pain there.

  Who does this to children? It’s easy to blame the Roones, because it was their technology and their offer that put us here, but it was ARC that demanded this safeguard. The planet could not afford the distraction of teenage drama, so human beings took the risk away. We had to be focused. We had to be single-minded at all times. Guard. Protect. Fight. Kill. It wasn’t a monster that turned us into monsters, it was our own kind.

  Human beings took away our humanity.

  If I’m going to lead us through this, if I’m going to dismantle ARC and take control, I have to be willing to put it all on the line. I have to be willing to die to save us. I have to trust Levi in the same way Ezra trusted me. Levi said it. I need to be all in. Seeing Levi inside the madness of the Blood Lust has shifted my perspective. Levi absolutely cannot see this as a battle, but I have to. This is a fight like any other. I’m ready to die back home at Camp Bonneville every time I engage. I’m not willing, no, never that, but I’m always prepared for the worst. What’s one more risk on top of everything else? My life is always on the line one way or another.

  If I were the type of person who cries easily, I would be teary eyed. I’m not, though, and thank God; otherwise, after what I’ve seen and done in my few short years, I would be hysterical all day long. When I look at Levi lying here helpless, with tiny grains of sand peppering his long, dark eyelashes, the injustice of the Blood Lust and who and why we are suddenly feels explosive. Sadness turns to anger. I’m mad now and more determined than ever to fix him.

  It doesn’t take long for Levi to wake up. His eyes flutter open, but he stays on his back in the sand. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

  “No. It’s me who should be sorry. I should never have fought back. I was afraid. It won’t happen again.”

  Levi sits up on his elbows. “What are you talking about? You had to fight back. I would have killed you. Look at your eye. I did that to you.”

  I get up and wipe the sand off my palms. “Oh, please,” I say, deliberately playing it down. He doesn’t need the guilt. It won’t be useful moving forward. In fact, it’s probably the opposite. “I’ve had worse training with Violet. This is nothing. You’re not some asshole who likes to beat up girls. You’re not some psycho who takes pleasure in hurting women. We aren’t normal people. They did this to us. We’re sick and this is our therapy.” I walk over to his pack and take out another red pill from a container in his Dopp kit.

  “You can’t be serious right now,” he says with disdain.

  “We’re going to do this. We’re gonna fix you because you deserve to be fixed, even though in general, I think you’re kind of a douche.” I smile. He does not smile back. So much for trying to lighten the mood. “I’m serious, though. It’s too dangerous for you to be at such a disadvantage with this. And while we don’t have time, we also don’t have time not to do it. You were right. You were right from the start and I should have just agreed with you straightaway. Take another pill.”

  I reach out my hand and offer it to him and he just looks at me. “You don’t get it. I will kill you. Put the pill away. I came here to make sure that you got back safe. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t.”

  “But those two things can’t coexist. You can’t say you’ve got my back when I have to worry that you might stab me there. And I need your help if we’re going to find Ezra and get back home. So shut up and listen: You’re not going to kill me and I am never going to fight back. Ever. I will keep my uniform and armor on and curl up into a defensive position if I have to, but I will never hurt you again.”

  Levi leaps up. It’s his turn to be mad. This is the Levi I recognize. “No. End of discussion.”

  “Screw that! This isn’t a decision you just get to make. This is my life, too. Take it!” I say in a voice one decibel away from a shout, but anger isn’t the way. I have to learn, right now, not to be combative with Levi, which feels impossible but I have to try. I relax my posture. I lower my voice and cock my head to one side. Anger won’t work, but something else . . . “You are a lot of things, Levi, but I never took you for a coward.”

  “I’m not a pussy, Ryn, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

  “You know, I don’t really like that word in this context. It makes me feel all feminist-y, which we could talk about. At length. Orrrrr you could just take the pill.”

  Maddeningly, he ignores my attempt to lighten the mood. He just shakes his head, like a child refusing to take a bite of food. “I thought the pills would make it easier. Now that I see they don’t, we have to stop.”

  I put my hand out again. Stay calm, stay calm. “Oh my God, you are a child! Did you really think this was going to be done in fifteen minutes? The pills work. You just have to let them. Right now your brain is making it imposs
ible. You may trust me, but you don’t trust yourself. You have to let go of your guilt. You didn’t choose to be this way. This isn’t the real you. Come on. Let’s do this. Let’s trust each other.”

  Levi glares at me.

  I smile. “Come on.”

  He rolls his eyes but actually laughs as he swipes the pill from my palm and pops it in his mouth. He takes a swig of water from his canteen.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Yeah,” I answer sarcastically. “The awesome kind of crazy that they make movies about.”

  “And modest. Clearly,” he says with a straight face. I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

  Levi walks to pick up his tablet and then comes and sits down beside me. We wait in silence for the drug to kick in, the white sand surrounding us like outstretched arms. I’ve never been on a tropical vacation. Once a year I go with my family to Europe to visit my grandparents in Sweden. From there we’ve traveled to England and France. We went to Disneyland a couple of times, but nowhere like this. I’ve never been anywhere this remote, with actual palm trees and burnt-orange sunsets. This must be like Fiji on our Earth, or maybe Tahiti. Though, for all I know we could be in Battle Ground. This might be the only land mass for miles. I haven’t even seen a bird and that’s never a good sign.

  When enough time has passed I look at Levi. “Ready?” I ask.

  “As I’m ever going to be.” He reaches toward his tablet and I take it gently from his hands.

  “I’m going to sing it. Just like your mom did to you. I’m not, like, a terrible singer, but I’m not exactly very good, either,” I warn.

  “That’s probably better. I think it would actually irritate me if on top of everything you were a great singer, too.” He smiles. That is a major compliment coming from him, and I can’t help but flush a little bit at the implications of “on top of everything.” Clearing my throat as much to do something as to warm up, I bring up the lyrics.

  I begin to sing.

  It’s so interesting that his mom chose this song. I get that it’s a love song, but it’s also just about two people who sometimes feel like they have only each other. I know Levi’s dad left his mom when he was pretty young. I know because his younger sister, Flora, told me before I became a Citadel. I don’t think his dad is really in the picture. I think about the burden that must place on Levi, to take care of his mom and Flora and whatever comes flying out of the Rift at the same time. It’s so much for someone so young. I don’t think he’s close to his team like I am. God. He must be so lonely.

  When I finish the song, I immediately start over. To my surprise, Levi starts singing along with me. I don’t need to say anything. He’s deep in this memory, I can just tell. Very slowly, I lean closer to him. I put my head on his shoulder.

  This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra . . .

  After a few seconds he slides his hand down my arm and takes my hand. I never dared try to initiate contact with Ezra when we did this, but Levi is not Ezra, and neither am I. We’re Citadels. We take risks normal people wouldn’t. I close my eyes. I know Levi could turn any moment, but I don’t think he will, not now. He’s getting it. He feels safe and so do I. When we finish the song, Levi doesn’t let go of my hand and I don’t move. The surf breaks with a dull clap on the sand in front of us. The waves are music, too. This is working. This is going to work. I am going to deprogram Levi and he can be like any other guy. He’ll be able to make out and have sex and not hurt anyone. I open my eyes and take my head off his shoulder. I look at him and he looks back and smiles at me in a way that’s so unlike his usual predatory grins. This smile is almost tender. Pretty soon he’ll be normal.

  That thought instantly fills me with a feeling I cannot figure out. It’s not dread, but it feels similar. It’s not fear so much as anxiety. I look out toward the ocean, confused. Why would the prospect of fixing Levi leave me like this? With a feeling I can’t name?

  Chapter 7

  Each trip through the Rift is becoming easier. I explained to Levi how I managed to basically fly within its tunnel and then use the gravity and light of the approaching Earth to get my bearings and end up on my feet instead of my ass. He seemed dubious, especially with the part about us not being grappled to each other, but in the end he trusted me and we both walked out of the Rift on our feet with only minor stumbles.

  The first few seconds are always the tensest. Where will we end up? In the middle of a volcano? A freeway? Someplace where a Rift will be seen as a horror and we, by default, some sort of monsters? Thankfully, we find ourselves in the middle of yet another forest and when I listen, I can hear nothing but animals scurrying, and from somewhere above, the screech of a bird in flight.

  I stare at the ground and then the trees. The terrain looks to be high mountain desert, the landscape I’ve seen and loved on family trips to central Oregon. It’s rocky and barren at my feet, but then the desert disappears as my gaze lifts upward to the ponderosas. From this vantage point it is clearly the Pacific Northwest.

  But there’s something off.

  I mentally scan all the trees, making a slow 360-degree sweep. I take a mental picture of each one and close my eyes, calling them up in my memory. I compare them side by side. The smell is right. Ponderosas are smoke and evergreen. I walk up to one and put my hand on its large, rough bark.

  “They’re too perfect, right?” I ask Levi to back up my hunch. “And the placement—it’s meant to be chaotic, but there’s a pattern to it.”

  Levi squints a little and cranes his neck back and forth. “Yeah. The branches of that one,” he gestures, meaning the one I’ve touched, “and the one eighteen feet away are almost identical except for two variables. That doesn’t happen in nature.”

  “So, it’s man-made and the trees must have been cloned. What kind of an Earth is that, you think?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know, but you must have clocked those buildings about six klicks away. We should go and check it out.”

  Before I can answer we hear a noise, a buzzing, getting closer. Without saying anything further, we both grab our rifles and unclip them from our chest pads. We don’t have to wait long to see the source of the sound. It’s a drone, although it’s not like any drone I’ve ever seen. It’s a silver disk that’s just hovering with no discernable way of actually flying. I stare at it, almost transfixed. It gets closer, and then light pours out of a thin circular strip in its midsection. The light races up and down our bodies in a long blue flash.

  Observing is one thing, this is obviously something else. I point my rifle at it and squeeze the trigger twice. The drone stops and drops almost immediately and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “That was either a really good idea or a really bad one,” I say before Levi can, because I know he’ll have a choice comment.

  “I vote good one. That thing was scanning us.” I side-eye him because I think he just lobbed me a compliment. Levi walks over to the downed object and bends forward to have a better look.

  “Don’t touch it, even with your foot,” I warn.

  “Yeah, okay, Mom, are you sure? Because weird alien hovering silver disks that scan people never explode.”

  “Noted. Thank you, Levi.” I leave him be for a couple of minutes. It’s not like I couldn’t make useful observations, but I’ve already annoyed him with my previous—and admittedly unnecessary—comments, and besides, my skill set in that area leans more toward noticing the tree thing. Levi’s mind is more mechanical. Which, if I’m being honest, kind of pisses me off a little bit because it feels so typically gender biased. Citadels don’t do gender bias. Except, it seems, in this case. Right here.

  Annoying.

  Levi straightens and walks back over to me, but before he can say anything we both hear another noise and this one is much louder. It is the sound of helicopter blades slicing through air.

  “That came out of nowhere,” I say, taking hold of my rifle yet again. My pulse quickens. “It’s almost on top of us, so where the h
ell did it come from?” We both look up to the sky and sure enough, it’s a chopper. It is moving with alarming speed, and at two hundred yards away, it’s closing in fast. I can see its sleek design—black chrome and streamlined, with none of the bulky aerodynamics of helicopters on our Earth.

  “We’re on a future Earth. A time line way more advanced than ours. We must be.” Although I don’t know why I bother to say it. Levi has eyes. I suppose saying it out loud makes it more real somehow, because right now I feel like we’re in a movie.

  “We could run,” Levi suggests.

  “No. Why waste the energy? If we’re going to have to fight, we’ll need it.” So both of us just stand there unmoving as the helicopter approaches. It’s noisy, but it’s not overwhelmingly loud. In a way, the propellers are almost soothing. They whoosh in the cloudless sky in precise measures. When the chopper is about fifty feet above us, the door slides open and two men emerge. They don’t jump, but rather float down gracefully as if being lowered by cables. Except there are no cables, and no pilot, either.

  I just look at them and stare because, holy fuck, I literally don’t know what else to do. I look at Levi, and he’s just as dumbstruck. Finally, I have to say something.

  “Did Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol just fly down from up there?”

  “I feel like yes, that is what happened. Unless we’re being drugged or that drone thing brainwashed us.”

  When the two men are about twenty feet away, I put my rifle up. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move,” I yell. They both stop and look at us, puzzled. As if the way they arrived was totally normal and why are we surprised.

  “Hello!” Jason Momoa says enthusiastically (which already seems not very Jason Momoa–like, though I don’t know him personally, obviously). “You are humans, yes?”