Nightfall

by Jake Halpern

  Marin pointed up the gully and no one argued. It had been several hours since they left the citadel, and there was no sign that they were being followed. Once the fear faded, all their strength seemed to drain with it. Line, in particular, looked haggard. His face was flushed, his forehead covered with sweat, and his eyes burning.

  “It looks like you have a fever,” Marin said to Line. She laid the back of her hand on his neck and was shocked to feel how much heat was rising from his skin. Sometimes, particularly tenacious infections needed massive doses of lekar. Is that what Line needs? She glanced at Kana and saw the worry on his face.

  For his part, Line was oblivious to their concern. He was focused only on each breath and each step.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just find some shelter.”

  They formed a line and Kana took the lead as they entered the gully. The path was the stream itself, and they had to walk in it, against the current. Within seconds, they were soaked to the knee. The rain had created dozens of small waterfalls that poured down on both sides and drenched the path they were walking along so that the stream underfoot became bigger and stronger. They were engulfed by mist and the sound of cascading water. The path narrowed.

  “Tell me more about the voice,” whispered Line as they splashed forward.

  Marin described her encounter in the basement of the citadel with as much detail as she could remember. When she was finished, Line shook his head. “That’s strange,” he said as he continued to splash upstream.

  “What’s strange?”

  “Just that, when I was down in the pit, I thought I saw someone. I was kind of out of it, but I could have sworn it was a woman.”

  Kana’s mouth opened slightly, revealing his surprise. So all three of us have met her. I’m not crazy. She’s real.

  “This woman,” said Kana. “Tell me again what she said about the boat.”

  Marin brushed droplets of frigid water from her face. “That it was in a cave,” she said with a sigh. “And she didn’t call it a boat—she called it a sea vessel. If it’s a sea vessel, it could cross open water. That’s better than what we’d find at the fishing depot. Right?”

  “I’ve been on the Coil dozens of times,” said Line. He slowed his pace to look at Marin, whom he could barely see through the darkness. “I’ve never seen any caves.”

  “But you have seen the hut with the fishing boat,” replied Marin. She grabbed his hand, clasping his cold, clammy fingers. “And if she’s wrong, we can still find it. The path will take us to the Coil—so we have both options. Right?”

  “I guess,” replied Line. Then he stumbled again and, this time, fell to his knees.

  Marin and Kana helped him up. Line’s skin was clammy now, and his teeth chattered. Marin turned to Kana. “We’ve got to rest soon,” she said. “He’s getting worse.”

  CHAPTER 38

  The gully widened enough for them to avoid walking through the ice-cold stream. Thanks to their knee-high boots, their feet were relatively dry, but that wasn’t enough to keep out the cold. The ground ahead was filled with pebbles and sand, and their walking became easier. After several minutes, the gully curved and they came upon a low-slung overhang of rock, which formed a shallow cave.

  They crawled underneath the overhang and collapsed onto a floor of sand, which was remarkably dry. Marin sidled up to Line and placed her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up,” she said. “How do you feel?”

  Line groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Kana, I can’t see a thing,” said Marin. “I need you to look at Line’s arm.”

  Kana maneuvered closer to Line. “I can see enough.”

  “And?”

  “It doesn’t look good,” said Kana. He exhaled heavily.

  “How bad?”

  “The arm is totally swollen, it’s covered with blisters, and there’s a lot of yellow pus,” said Kana.

  Marin was acutely aware of the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Do you think it’s gangrene?” If Line is that sick, how can we possibly get off the island?

  “I don’t know,” said Kana. “But we need to use all the lekar we have left. He should eat some, too. It’ll help.” Very gingerly, Kana slathered the ointment on Line’s wound. Line winced. “Sit up,” said Kana softly. “You’ve got to eat some.” After some coaxing, Line sat up and swallowed the last of the lekar—about a teaspoonful.

  Line lay back down, then raised his head. “Both of you should know,” he said weakly. “If it comes time, I’ll use the knife myself.”

  It took Marin a few seconds to register what he meant. Then she sucked in a sharp breath. “You’ll be fine. Eating the lekar is going to help.”

  “Just saying . . . I’ll do it myself,” Line repeated. He closed his eyes. Marin and Kana watched his face soften as he fell asleep.

  Marin rubbed her tired eyes. It was too much to comprehend. She turned to Kana. “How long will it take to work?”

  “It should work right away, now that he’s eaten it,” said Kana. “But I scraped the container clean. There’s nothing left.”

  “Will he need more?”

  Kana looked away from his sister. He didn’t want to give her false assurances, but he didn’t want her panicking, either. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Every person reacts differently. It healed my wound quickly—that’s why I had so much left.” He touched the scar on his face. There was just enough light for Marin to see him doing it.

  “Can we find more?” asked Marin. Her voice sounded very far away.

  “Doubtful,” said Kana. “Line and I looked all the time, and we hardly found any. Let’s just let him sleep for a few hours. That might be enough.”

  Marin shivered. It was very cold. Her mind felt slow and numb. She tried to settle in, but she couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Eventually, she crept over to her brother’s side.

  “I can’t even see you,” she said, drawing closer.

  “Careful,” said Kana suddenly, jerking his leg away from his sister.

  “Ow!” cried Marin. “Something just scraped me.”

  Kana froze. “Are you all right?” he asked, trying to keep his tone concerned but not alarmed. “What was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s gone now.” Marin leaned back against the wall of the cave and focused on her breathing.

  “Are you sure you’re fine?” Kana asked. He could hear her fidgeting in the darkness.

  “I’m okay,” said Marin.

  Judging by his breathing, Line was in a deep sleep. Kana was genuinely worried for him. The jealousy he’d felt seemed so stupid now. So trivial. Line was very sick.

  “Kana?” said Marin.

  “Yes?”

  “You know, Kana—I didn’t want to leave this island,” she said. “And now . . . now I’d give anything to be on the boats.” She paused. “Until I was in the citadel—in that stairwell, in the total darkness—I didn’t really get how hard it was for you, not being able to see.”

  Kana dug his hands into the dry, cool sand. It felt soothing. “How could you?”

  She lifted her head from the wall. “Were you dreading going to the desert?”

  “A bit,” he admitted.

  “Because you’d be blind again? It won’t be as bad as Bliss’s years of noontime sun.”

  “I know,” said Kana. “But I guess it wasn’t just about being blind. There’s something about this island . . . It just feels right. And I can’t imagine the Desert Lands feeling that way.”

  Marin thought about this. “I get it,” she replied. For a moment, she recalled climbing the cliffs with Line, when they discovered the hag. It felt like ages ago. “Really, I do get it.”

  No you don’t, thought Kana. And when do I tell you? Kana stared at his feet. He could feel the pressure of his talons against the inside of his boot
s. It was growing more painful. Perhaps, if the forest was dark enough, he’d be able to take the boots off without anyone noticing.

  “I can’t get comfortable,” said Marin. She was still fidgeting, wrapping her oilskin tightly around herself and then loosening it again. “My heart is just racing . . .”

  “Marin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember when we were little—Dad would make me feed those sheep in the back pasture?”

  “Yes,” said Marin. She hadn’t thought about it in a long time.

  “I hated feeding those sheep,” said Kana. “It was before I got my glasses, and I used to beg Father to—”

  “Let me go with you,” finished Marin.

  “That’s right,” said Kana. “But he made me go by myself—to toughen me up, I guess.” He paused before continuing. “It was awful. I couldn’t see anything and I was terrified of getting turned around and wandering into the woods by accident. I remember I hid under your bed once, and you found me. Remember that?”

  “I do,” Marin replied softly.

  “Do you remember what you told me?”

  “Of course,” she said, recalling his trembling shoulders and the way he’d gripped her hand so tight.

  “Marin, it’s just like that now, only I’m the one who can see. I’ll be the lookout—for you and for Line.”

  Just then, Line groaned and shifted in his sleep.

  Kana cursed under his breath. It’s inevitable. Line will need more lekar.

  “Marin, do you still have the knife—the one from the mayor’s house?”

  Marin sat up straight so fast that she nicked her head on a rock that jutted out from the cave wall. “Yes. Kana—you’re not going to . . .”

  “No,” said Kana. “At least, not yet. Let him sleep.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Several hours later, Line’s fever broke. Marin and Kana had been sleeping fitfully. There was a steady clamor of thunder in the distance, which made it hard to remain asleep. She didn’t even realize that Line was awake—let alone feeling better—until he spoke.

  “It’s really dark in here.” Line said this casually, as if Night was just a candle that had been blown out.

  “Line!” said Marin excitedly. She crawled over to his side and felt his forehead. It was cool now. “How’s your arm?”

  “Feels like I left it on a campfire overnight—but it’s better.”

  “Kana, can you take a look at it?”

  Kana crawled across the cool, dry sand. His waxed canvas pants and wool sweater were caked in mud and dried bits of seaweed. He brushed a lock of blond hair from his eyes, smearing dirt across his pale face.

  He studied Line’s arm. “The swelling is down,” he said. “Now we just have to keep an eye on it.”

  “Finally some good news,” said Marin, ruffling Line’s hair.

  A long roll of thunder came from outside the cave, followed by another. There was something almost rhythmic to the sound.

  After a reasonable amount of time had passed, Marin spoke up. “We should go,” she said. “Line, are you up for walking?”

  “I think so.”

  Marin crawled to the mouth of the cave. “It’s not raining, and the moon is out,” she announced. “Don’t you find that weird?”

  “Really?” said Kana. “Even with all that thunder . . .”

  “It can’t be thunder,” said Line. He crawled from under the overhang and stood up straight next to the stream.

  Marin and Kana joined him.

  “There’s no lightning,” said Line. “Besides, thunder starts like a faraway rumble, then gets sharper—like a crack. Right? And like Marin said, it’s not even raining.”

  He frowned. When he awoke from his feverish sleep, the thunder was the first thing he’d heard. It was steady, as if a great storm were drawing near but never arriving.

  “What is it, then?” asked Kana.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” replied Line. “The sound comes every ten seconds, right? It’s almost like there’s something intentional to it.” He paused, uncertain whether he should continue. “Kana, remember back in the woods? Those slabs that were built into the side of the canyon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did they look like to you?” Line asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Kana. He sighed and then rubbed his eyes savagely. “What do you think?”

  “Doors,” said Line. “They look like massive stone doors. There are lots of them—what if the thunder sound is them opening one by one?”

  “Why would they be opening so regularly?” asked Marin, nuzzling her nose into her oilskin for warmth. “I mean, most doors just open at random, when people want to come or go.”

  “Maybe the doors only open at Nightfall,” said Line. “They might open in sequence. Maybe it’s all timed.” He sighed heavily. “I have no idea. My point is, that’s not thunder.”

  “We better go,” said Kana, rising to his feet.

  They left the cave and resumed their trek up the gully. As they splashed their way upstream, Line was tempted to insist that they return to the seabed, even though Marin seemed intent on following the woman’s advice. And we trust her why, exactly? Line gritted his teeth but continued on.

  After widening for several hundred feet, the gully narrowed again until it was nothing more than a tear in the cliffs. The tightness of the space was unnerving—a claustrophobe’s nightmare—because the farther they went, the more the walls pressed in on them.

  Kana led the way, with Marin and Line behind. They splashed through the stream, soaking themselves yet again. After about twenty minutes, the gully came to a dead end, enclosed by piles of stone boulders. Water poured down through crevices in the rocks and gathered in a deep black pool. The moon shone dully, as if there were several layers of translucent clouds obscuring its light. Nothing stirred. Marin walked silently to the pool and drank deeply. The water tasted sharp and fresh. It was a melancholy place—full of gurgling water but devoid of any other life. A mist of vapor hugged the dirt and swirled around their feet.

  “So what now?” asked Line.

  “We leave the gully and head for the white stone arch,” said Marin. “She said it was just past the old walls.”

  “I’m having second thoughts,” said Line. Going through that narrow part of the gully had crystallized his doubts. “We don’t know anything about who was actually speaking to you. Why would we assume she’s trying to help us?”

  “I understand,” said Marin. “But what’s the alternative?”

  “I’m just saying,” said Line. “What if the voice you heard was one of the creatures?”

  Marin shook her head. “If the creatures could speak, wouldn’t they have said something at the mayor’s house, when they were attacking us?”

  “What did the voice sound like?” interjected Kana. “Did it sound like someone from Bliss?”

  Marin thought back to the citadel. “No,” she said. “But I had no trouble understanding it. At times her voice sounded harsh, but then it would suddenly go soft.”

  “She’s spoken to me before,” said Kana quietly, almost to himself. “I thought it was a dream.”

  “When?” asked Line. He lowered his head, trying to make eye contact with Kana.

  “It doesn’t matter,” muttered Kana.

  Line stood, suddenly alert. Something was up with Kana. What isn’t he telling us? Line turned to Marin. “I have a bad feeling about this. Especially because she’s telling us to go back into the forest. It could be—well—a death trap . . . don’t you see that?”

  Marin sighed. “Look, if you want to stay here, freezing to death and debating this—go right ahead. I’m in favor of finding a boat, and quickly. It’s a risk, but it’s also our best option.” Her volume rose steadily until she was nearly shouting.<
br />
  “Calm down,” said Line. “We’re just trying to think this through.”

  “We can’t think our way off the island!” Marin snapped. Her sudden anger surprised her. She began walking around the pool of dark water, and hopped onto the nearby boulders. She found a narrow path leading away from the pool and into the meadow. “I’m going to find that arch. All right?”

  This wasn’t a question—it was a declaration. Marin punctuated her statement by jumping from a boulder onto the path. She walked on, and within seconds she was out of sight.

  Kana stared after her. His face was paler and his jaw seemed more prominent than Line remembered. Line reached into his backpack, pulled out one of the last apples, and offered it to Kana.

  Kana cringed and batted it roughly away with his hand.

  “Kana!” said Line with shock, bending down to pick up the apple. What’s going on with him?

  “I don’t want your apples,” said Kana. His shoulders were hunched and tense, as if readying for a fight. “So don’t shove them in my face.”

  “All right,” said Line in a studiously even tone. “Do you want to tell me why you’re angry?”

  Kana glared at him, but then his features began to soften and his shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m just not myself.”

  Inwardly, Line felt a mounting sense of panic. They were all in terrible shape, physically and mentally. To make matters worse, their plan was going to pieces. The original plan had always been a long shot, but at least it was a sensible long shot, and one based on facts. There was a fishing depot on the Coil River. And it had a spare boat. This was certain. They had all agreed to go there, and this agreement had pushed them forward as a team. But now Marin had stomped off and Kana was having some sort of fit.

  “Kana, you’re not making sense,” said Line. “What the hell is going on with you?”

  Kana said nothing for a moment. At last, he spoke, and when he did, tears rolled down his cheeks and there was an unmistakable quiver in his voice. “Line, we’ve been friends for a long time, but I can’t talk about it . . . not right now.”