Exile

by S. M. Wilson

  “And so they should. So they leave him there? On his own?” Kayna was angry.

  Lincoln held up both hands. “Hey, it wasn’t up to me. But Blaine has made some sort of arrangement with them.”

  Caleb looked suspicious. “What kind of arrangement?”

  Lincoln shrugged. “Blaine was vague. He just said that he gave them information. He had lots of detailed drawings of the dinosaurs and notes on them. Maps with their nests, their habits.”

  “And what do the Stipulators give him in return?”

  “They take him supplies every year. When we landed, they left a crate on the beach for him. But that’s not what he really wants. He wants to see you all again. I think he’s accepted they won’t let him come home, but he still wants to know about his family.”

  Lincoln could see how upset they were. He was beginning to regret his decision to tell them. The truth was he could never really give them the answers they wanted.

  “How can they do this to him?” Kayna burst out. “They sent him there and they won’t even let him contact us?”

  Lincoln could hear pure anguish and frustration in her voice. He tried to speak carefully. “He’s a Stipulator. Or he was.” He left the rest hanging in the air.

  But Kayna knew exactly what he meant. “So this is my fault? My fault because we had a family.” Her face was getting redder by the second.

  Lincoln stepped back. “I don’t make the rules. I don’t make the punishments.”

  Caleb still looked angry. “So for years Finalists have gone to Piloria, seen my father and never mentioned him?”

  Lincoln shook his head. “No. Not at all. He hides.”

  “He what?” Kayna and Caleb looked at each other in confusion.

  Lincoln tried to find a more tactful way of putting it. “We met Blaine by accident. We’d been chased by a T-rex and we scrambled into a cave to hide. That’s where we met Blaine.”

  “He lives in a cave?” Kayna’s face filled with horror and Lincoln almost laughed out loud. He lived in a cave, with his mother and now another family. Kayna had obviously forgotten that people on Earthasia lived in caves too.

  He shook his head. “No. But he’s survived on Piloria for nine years. He’s built a kind of home in the jungle. He knows what to do, he knows where to hide.”

  Kayna shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. The information seemed to overwhelm her.

  “I’m sorry,” Lincoln whispered. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should be truthful with you. He still loves you all. He just can’t tell you that.” Lincoln paused. “I think if he’d known I would meet you, he would have given me a million messages for you.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I wish I’d asked him. I wish I’d thought to ask him what to tell you.”

  Kayna’s hands clasped one of Lincoln’s and he opened his eyes. “But now I know. I’ve spent the last nine years imagining terrible things. Not knowing what to tell my children.” She squeezed his hand so hard he almost winced, but then she released it and placed one hand on her heart. She nodded her head. “Now, I know. I know the person I love is still alive.” Tears dripped down her face. “Now, I can go home and tell my daughter about her father. About the survivor on Piloria. About the only human who has survived on the dinosaur continent.” She wrapped her arm around Caleb. “Now, I can tell my children to be proud of their father. To be proud that he’s survived.” She gritted her teeth. “Even if he’s been abandoned by the people he used to consider family.”

  She tugged at Caleb’s sleeve, they exchanged a glance, then, in the blink of an eye, they disappeared into the crowd.

  Lincoln was stunned. His heart was pounding against his chest. He stood for a few moments collecting his thoughts. Had that really just happened? He slid his hands through his hair as his stomach churned over and over.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just done something wrong.

  But it was too late now.

  He didn’t mean to be there. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lorcan Field had finally decided to bring some order to his office and Lincoln had been assigned the prestigious task of picking up the mountains of paper strips from the floor. So when Reban Don stormed into the office he didn’t notice Lincoln under the desk.

  “Enough,” growled Reban Don. “The other zones are becoming impatient. They aren’t interested in the human DNA studies. They want to know if we can kill the T-rexes. They want to know when we can inhabit Piloria.”

  Lorcan’s lab coat was dirty and smudged, his grey hair practically standing on end. Lincoln had no idea when the last time Lorcan had actually gone home and slept was. His every breath was being spent on trying to find a cure for the blistering plague. The lab workers had also been encouraged to work even longer hours. Mapping genomes wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Lincoln had dropped a clay pot one day and instead of shattering into large pieces, it had virtually disintegrated into dust. From the little he understood about DNA, they were practically trying to map that dust, joining all the pieces together to make a complete pot again.

  The initial excitement that Lincoln had felt was slowly fading. The work was tedious and even though the staff were putting in long hours, there didn’t seem to be any results yet. His gut clenched. What if the cure came too late for Arta? If it came at all.

  Lorcan had barely even acknowledged Reban’s entrance.

  But Reban wasn’t so easily ignored.

  He grabbed hold of Lorcan’s lab coat. “I said, enough. It’s time to stop this work. We need you to work on the dinosaurs. We need you to find a way to kill them! We need the land.”

  “I don’t need the land. I don’t care about the dinosaurs. Go away. I have far too much to do. There is so much to learn about human DNA. Do you know that yesterday we discovered which genes affect eye colour? There’s more than one. We’ve only scratched the surface.”

  Reban shook Lorcan with every word he said. “It’s time to stop. It’s time to focus.”

  But instead of being intimidated, Lorcan sneered. “What are you afraid of, Reban Don? I know what DNA can show. I already know how to connect families. Are you worried I’ll tell the world you have a daughter?”

  Lincoln winced as Reban slammed Lorcan against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Lorcan didn’t seem to care. “Be careful, Reban. Don’t push me. It isn’t wise. I can reveal your dirty little secret to the world. What will happen to you then?”

  Reban’s teeth were gritted together. “I’ve told you. The Chief Stipulators will shut this lab down if you don’t complete your assignment. The other labs are ahead of this one. If you can’t perform, you’re no use to us.”

  Lorcan shook his head and pushed hard at Reban’s chest. “Then persuade them that I am completing the work. Or else I’ll tell the world what you don’t want them to know.”

  Lincoln could see the fury on Reban’s face. He hated the fact he was cowering under the desk right now. But revealing himself could be dangerous. Revealing himself now would likely get him sent him straight to the mines. A certain death sentence.

  Reban released his grip on Lorcan’s lab coat, shoving him halfway across the room. “Don’t threaten me, Lorcan. Not now, not ever.” He turned with a sweep of his cloak and kicked the door open with his foot so hard that part of it shattered against the wall.

  Lincoln shook his head. Thank goodness Reban hadn’t seen him. Maybe he should try and warn Storm that she could be in danger? That someone else knew who her father was.

  But how could he warn someone who wouldn’t even look at him, let alone speak to him?

  The corridor in the care centre was quiet, but as Storm pushed open the door to Arta’s room she could hear laughter.

  Arta’s roommate had changed. The older woman was gone and in her place was a girl of around Arta’s age.

  Storm gave a hesitant smile as she walked into the room, clutching an orange fruit. “Hi, just thought I’d check on you.”
<
br />   Arta gave a bright smile. “I’m good.” She lifted her hand. “This is Tarin. She got moved in here last night.”

  Storm gave Tarin a nod. Like Arta she was covered in bandages, except Tarin’s wound all the way up her neck. Her blonde hair stuck out around her head and even with the bandages bulking up her body she still seemed thin.

  “Nice to meet you, Tarin. I’m Storm. I’m…” For a second she was lost for words as her head sorted out the correct answer. “I’m Arta’s half-sister.”

  Tarin frowned, as if the name was familiar and she was trying to place it. “Storm?” A few seconds later, realization hit. “You’re Stormchaser Knux. You fought the dinosaurs!” Tarin clapped her hands together then winced.

  Something must have clicked in her brain. She glanced over at Arta. “But Arta’s only got a brother.”

  Storm’s skin prickled instantly. The staff gave Arta medication for her condition. Sometimes it made her woozy. What had she said?

  Storm spoke quickly. “Yes, I fought the dinosaurs – though actually sometimes I just hid. Arta and Lincoln have the same mum, but different dads. My father” – she almost cringed saying the word out loud – “is the same as Arta’s. In fact I have quite a few half-brothers and half-sisters.”

  She was trying to keep things smooth. She had no idea who could be listening around here. She’d have to try and warn Arta later to be careful what she said.

  Lincoln visiting too could complicate things. They hadn’t spoken since the final Trial. She didn’t want to speak to him. Not when he’d betrayed her. Then again, there was always a chance he could unwittingly tell a different story of how Arta was related to Storm. Did she really want their fight to impact on Arta’s care?

  But Tarin seemed to accept the explanation. She lay back against her pillows with a sigh. “Lucky you. There’s only me. I think it must be fun to have brothers and sisters.” Her voice had a wistful tone.

  Storm resisted the temptation to answer honestly. She’d dreamed, years ago, of having brothers and sisters. But dreams and reality were two different things.

  She gave a smile and walked over to Arta, handing her the orange. “Here. Look, this came in the ration box today. I wanted you to try it. I think it’s the same as a fruit we found on Piloria. It’s lovely. But a bit messy. See what you think.”

  Arta held out her hand for the fruit and wrinkled her nose as she studied it. She banged it against her leg under the bedclothes. “But it feels so hard. How can you eat it?”

  Storm shook her head. “You don’t eat the skin. That peels off. The soft flesh is underneath. It breaks into pieces when you open it and there’s lots of juice.”

  She was just showing Arta how to peel the orange when the door banged behind her. She turned around just in time to see Lincoln walk into the room.

  The last person she wanted to see.

  Lincoln stopped mid-step. He hadn’t managed to visit for a few days and had only planned to drop in for a short spell after another long session at the lab. He knew Storm visited Arta, but he hadn’t expected her to be here.

  Awkward.

  Arta’s lips turned upwards as she glanced between the two of them. He tried to act normally, even though he felt distinctly uncomfortable.

  Arta patted the side of her bed. She had a bright orange fruit in her lap. He recognized it instantly. He wrinkled his brow. “Where did you get that?”

  Arta grinned. “Apparently I’ve just got a little piece of Piloria. It came in Storm’s ration box.”

  Lincoln stared at Storm, his mind racing. “That was in your box?”

  If the fruit from Piloria could grow here, maybe other plants could too. He glanced at Arta’s arm. It was still covered. But a little spark of something flickered inside him. Was it working? Was the ointment doing anything at all to help?

  Storm turned and headed to the door. “I need to go. See you later, Arta.”

  He couldn’t help it, he reached out and brushed Storm’s hand. “We should talk.” He needed to tell her. He needed to tell her about Blaine’s family.

  She pulled her hand back sharply and gave him an angry stare. “We were done talking a long time ago.”

  Storm spun around and stalked out of the door, and his heart twisted in his chest. She still hated him.

  Arta gave a sympathetic smile and held up the half-peeled fruit. “Want to help me with this?”

  He sighed and settled himself at Arta’s bedside – but the next minute all hell was breaking loose.

  The girl opposite Arta started coughing. It sounded like a tickly cough, but became hoarser and hoarser, with her colour changing from white to red and then verging on blue.

  Finally she gave an enormous cough, spluttering blood all over her bedclothes. Lincoln jumped to his feet just as a female care worker appeared at the door, who shouted for assistance.

  Lincoln could hardly believe it when Lorcan Field burst through the doors, his eyes wide at the sight of the sick girl in the bed.

  Lincoln stepped back. He’d known Lorcan’s daughter was in the care centre. He just hadn’t realized that she was Arta’s new roommate.

  Within a few moments, there was a crowd around the young girl’s bed. Lincoln crouched down next to Arta. He didn’t really think he should be in here right now, but he didn’t want to leave his sister alone with all this.

  Lorcan was gripped by panic. He shouted at one care worker after another. The medico ran in, heading to the top of the bed.

  Because of the mass of people, Lincoln couldn’t really see what was going on. He slid his arm around Arta’s shoulder. Her eyes were wide, her fingers at her mouth.

  Words were flying.

  “What are you doing to help her?”

  “We’re doing our best. You know there’s no cure. This is a progressive disease. We don’t know how to stop the damage to the lungs.”

  There was a little yelp from the bed opposite and both Lincoln and Arta jumped. Lincoln hated the sound of the other girl in pain. He could hear her ragged breaths, the way she was struggling to breathe. It could so easily be Arta.

  “Why can’t you help my daughter? This isn’t good enough. You have to keep her stable. I can find a cure for this. I can. But I need time.”

  One of the other care workers mumbled under her voice, “But they don’t all have time.”

  Lincoln stiffened, conscious that Arta could hear just as clearly as he could.

  As Lorcan shouted louder, the staff seemed to get more nervous. More edgy.

  “There must be something that can halt this!” He threw his hands in the air. “Anything!”

  One of the care workers looked over at Arta, her gaze narrowing. Every hair on Lincoln’s arms bristled.

  The woman bent forward and spoke quietly to the other people around the bed. There was some more coughing. A shifting of positions. After a few minutes one of the care workers swept away the bloodied sheet and replaced it with another. The voices were low. Lorcan seemed to be holding his breath.

  A couple of the care workers disappeared out of the room, muttering to each other. The medico stayed a bit longer. He looked as if he were giving Tarin some medicine – some kind of injection. As the crowd around the bed dispersed, Tarin became visible, lying back against the pillows, her face even paler than usual and streaked with tears.

  Arta breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  The woman who’d stared at Arta was still there, still shooting glances in their direction.

  She moved next to Lorcan and tugged at his sleeve.

  “Look at her hands,” she said.

  Lorcan looked confused. “What?”

  The woman pointed at Tarin’s hands. “Look, they’re the only part of her that’s healed.”

  Lorcan furrowed his brow and gently picked up Tarin’s hands. After a few seconds examining them he started to nod. “You’re right. They do look better. They’re not bleeding. The cracks are starting to heal. The skin around them has stopped peeling. There are no
blisters.” His voice started to sound hopeful. “What is this? Have you been using something different on her hands?”

  Tarin blinked her dark eyes. She gave a tired smile, pulling her hands back from her father’s in a dazed kind of way. She let out a little laugh. “It’s magic. But it’s not from them. It’s from my friend.” She looked over towards Arta.

  Lorcan shook his head. “Who?”

  Lincoln felt frozen. The ointment. It could only be the ointment. Arta must have shared it.

  And it had worked. It had actually worked.

  He couldn’t help it. He held Arta’s arm, straightened it and peeled back the covering, focusing on the crook of her elbow. The crook of her elbow that now looked entirely normal, with pink skin.

  His brain crowded with a million thoughts. He should have visited sooner. He should have monitored exactly how the ointment was doing.

  He closed his eyes for a second and could picture the inside of Blaine’s makeshift hut. He could see the hotchpotch of things stuck to the wall. He could see all the hours of work, the individual sense of order with the pots of ointment and glue.

  The ointment. The actual ointment that was helping Arta’s skin. He should have asked Blaine so much more than he actually had. He should have watched more carefully as Blaine made it. He should have taken samples of the plants and leaves. He should have done anything that would mean he could get his hands on some more of the precious substance.

  He was stupid. He was so, so stupid. He hadn’t even asked Blaine how he’d made it. He didn’t even know the name of the plant that had been used.

  The whole time he’d been on Piloria he’d thought about helping his sister. That had been his sole motivation. His only goal. And now it seemed he’d let the one opportunity that actually could make a difference slip through his fingers.