A Buried Spark

by P. J. Hoover

The guy I’m calling Andy twists up his face in disgust. “Really? Why?”

  Without even realizing I’m doing it, I take a step away from him because how rude is that?

  “I think I know him,” I say. Then without waiting to see whether Andy follows me or not, I start over to the guy. He has something important. Some kind of information. I’m supposed to talk to him.

  “Hi,” I say, unsure what kind of reaction I’m going to get.

  “I know you,” the guy says.

  I nod slowly. That feels right. I don’t know how or from where, but I’m sure he’s right. “Yeah, I think I know you, too.”

  By this point, Andy decides to follow and comes up on my right side. He flashes his smile, but it’s nowhere near as nice or warm as I originally thought.

  The guy with the scar has one thing that we don’t. He remembers his name.

  “I’m Cole,” he says.

  The second the words are out of his mouth, my eyes widen. I know his name is Cole. And I also know that whoever he is, I like him way more than just as a friend. But I don’t know if he knows this. I don’t know how to act through this.

  “We need to find the way out,” I say.

  “Yeah, I was thinking about that,” Cole says. He’s got a really cute accent, way different than mine or Andy’s. Like someone from the south. But not Georgia. More like Louisiana. He points with his crutch over to a dead tree. “Did you guys see that?”

  I hadn’t even noticed it before, but now that Cole mentions it, my vision seems to focus in on it, almost like everything else fades away.

  “Have you gotten a closer look?” Andy says. He acts like he’s trying to be friendly again, but it’s almost like there is invisible animosity between the two guys.

  “I tried,” Cole says. “But . . .”

  “But what?” Andy says.

  “You have to see.” Without another word, Cole sets off, using his crutch so well it’s hardly noticeable that half his leg is missing.

  We walk closer to the dead tree, but as we walk, two things happen. The tree grows larger with every step, and leaves sprout from its branches. It is transforming in front of us until by the time we stop about twenty feet away, it towers so high above us that I can’t see the top. And the leaves rather than being gray and brown like everything else around, are bright vivid colors, green and orange and yellow, like it can’t contain all the life inside it.

  “That’s why,” Cole says, point at the base of the tree.

  Wrapped around the tree is a snake so thick, its body width is nearly as wide as I am tall. It curls around four times until its tail reaches up and drapes over a high branch, then extends back down, ending just above the ground. Its eyes are closed, but as soon as I spot it, the snake’s eyes fly open. They’re black and thin like slits, but they have the tiniest amount of green lined through them.

  You’ve made it this far, the snake says. But it’s talking directly into my mind, not aloud. I glance to Andy, but he doesn’t act like he’s hearing anything.

  I know you, I think to the snake.

  It flicks its tongue out, tasting the empty air. You do. Do you remember?

  I shake my head. This snake has somehow been in my past. But the details won’t fill in. You helped me once.

  Did I?

  I glance at Cole and Andy, but they’re standing motionless, almost like time is frozen around them. Nobody else is moving either. Only me and the snake and the leaves in the tree, blowing softly in the wind.

  You need to remember, the snake says.

  At his words, symbols flash across my eyes. I squeeze my eyes closed and they vanish. I try to remember.

  What have you done with the power? the snake says.

  Power. There is something about the power. About where I got it.

  An image of a throne room, with a golden throne at the top of a small flight of steps fills my mind. An old man sits in the throne. Dies in the throne.

  He was your enemy, too, I think.

  The snake blinks its eyes. He was always my enemy. From the beginning of time.

  Little bits and pieces come back to me. An old god. I’d killed him.

  Are you a god? I ask the snake.

  I am, the snake says. One of the ancient gods, from ages long ago. We ruled the earth before the old gods. When the old gods came—well, we thought of them as the new gods back then—they tried to take control. They determined that our time was done. They claimed we were destroying humanity. They asked us to leave.

  Our council convened, and it was recognized that most of our numbers should be cast aside. Perhaps these new gods were correct. As happens with many gods over time, their care for the earth had waned. But among us, there were a select few that secretly vowed to maintain control. From these new gods we sensed the chaos that would come. We knew we would be needed.

  These new gods fought us in a war that nearly destroyed the earth. They killed many of us. But a few of us, like me, survived. We let them believe we were dead. We stayed hidden. We built up our power. We waited. The time would come. We always knew that. But these new gods didn’t. They never expected to hear from us again. They never put in any precautions to protect against us.

  Over time, the new gods became the old gods, and the destruction they sprinkled over the earth became too much. The time had come for change. The time had come for a new generation of gods to take over.

  As the giant snake communicates with me, images play through my mind. Of the ancient gods. The war. New gods taking over. And slowly, as had happened before, a shift in power became necessary. It is now the time of change.

  What do you need me to do? I ask. I clench my fists, wanting to spring into action but not understanding anything.

  I need you to remember, Eden. I need you to remember who you are. Why you were born. And what you are meant to do. It’s why you’re here. Why I’ve brought you here. Why I’ve brought you all here.

  Eden. That’s me. That’s my name. And all of us. He’s talking about the people that stand around me. Cole. The guy I’m calling Andy. The other guy who’d given something to me earlier. The girl with the bleached braids. A couple others that look vaguely familiar.

  Then the snake’s tongue flicks out, lashing over my forehead, trailing down my arm. Sparks run through me, like invisible power under my skin. Symbols flash across my eyes. This time I recognize them as a word: Memory.

  Remember, the snake says. Then he begins to uncurl himself from the tree, slithering forward until his tail winds down and he is finally free. He slithers off, away from us, into the bleak land ahead.

  I watch the snake’s departing form until it is completely out of sight. The sparks still run through me. I focus on them, feeling them move like they are a part of me. The word is still there, floating in front of my eyes. I focus on it. Memory. Then I blink.

  Memories flood my mind. The labyrinth. A giant wooden horse destroying a city. My friends. Cole. Taylor. Hudson. Zachary.

  Owen.

  I spin around, and there is Andy—Owen. I almost shrink back, but I stop myself. I’m not scared of Owen.

  The snake had been clear. We’re all here. We’re all needed.

  Owen doesn’t remember. I do. The word had been there, in my heads-up display, transferred to me by Hudson. And Hudson, in turn, had stolen it from someone else, possibly the very person he’d been following: Owen. The Memory item should have been his, but the snake had told Hudson to steal it from Owen and transfer it to me.

  “The snake is gone,” Owen says, pointing to the tree. It’s still full of life. Full of hope in this desolate place. But one by one, the leaves begin to fall from the tree.

  I hold my face steady, but the power flows through me in waves. I know what I need to do with it. I need to not only make myself remember. I need to help the others remember, too.

&nbs
p; I glance to Cole, wondering if he feels the power, too. Sure enough, he’s studying Owen. Anger flows across his face.

  “You remember?” I ask Cole.

  He nods.

  “Did the snake talk to you, too?” I ask. “Did you hear?”

  “All of it,” Cole says.

  I let out a long breath, thankful I am not alone in this knowledge.

  “We have to use the power to bring back their memories,” I say.

  “What are you two talking about?” Owen asks. I’m guessing that Cole and I are the only ones who heard the snake. The only two with the ability, since we have the power.

  “Nothing,” I say. “But we need to go.”

  I start walking away from Owen, not looking back, but he grabs my arm and stops me. His fingers dig into my muscle, almost hard enough to hurt.

  “Go where?” Owen asks.

  I look him right in the eye. “Let me go.”

  “But where are you going?” he says, still not letting go.

  If I had my sword or my ax, I would . . . What? Would I kill him? Could I? I bite my lips but hold his gaze.

  “None of your business,” I say, and I yank my arm out of his grasp.

  Cole gets right in his face. “Don’t follow us.”

  Owen puts up his hands and steps back, acting like he’s Mister Innocent. And maybe here, without his memories, he kind of is. But underneath, he’s still Owen. Still the same asshole he always was.

  “No problem,” Owen says. “I was leaving anyway.”

  Cole and I walk away, leaving Owen there by the tree. I turn back only once, just in time to see the last leaf fall from the branches, leaving it barren. And when we are far enough away and out of sight, we stop.

  From our vantage point, and with my refreshed memory, names and faces coalesce. Abigail with her cross necklace clutched in her hand. Taylor, somehow connected with Hudson, except she’s scowling at him like she doesn’t know him. Rex from Simulation Avine. His sister Amanda. I even see Queen Simone and Damien. They’re all here, in the simulation. They’ve all lost their memories. And we have to free them. But first, we have to separate our friends, find the exit point so we’ll have the advantage. So we’ll get the key and get out first.

  “Let’s start with Hudson,” I say to Cole, and we hurry over to where he and Taylor argue. He’s jogging in place, full of unlimited energy, but with no memories, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

  “Hudson, you have to come with us,” I say.

  Hudson’s eyes go wide. “You know my name.”

  I nod, and that seems good enough for him.

  Taylor is an entirely different story. She fights and argues with everything we say until Cole finally manages to convince her that he’s telling the truth by whispering her brother’s name: Adam.

  It’s like when I’d heard Thomas’s name. A small sliver of the past that is powerful enough to seep through the mask blocking the world.

  There’s no sign of Zachary Gomez anywhere, and I worry that we’re going to have to leave him. But we push through the crowd, to where a small pond seems to suck in every bit of color, like a black hole pulling in light. We find Zachary there, looking into the pond.

  He doesn’t even look our way as we approach.

  “It’s full of colors,” he says, pointing through the still surface. Underneath the otherwise gray surface, an iridescent carnival is going one, with colors swirling and mixing into every shade possible.

  “It’s beautiful,” Taylor says.

  Hearing her say this is so uncharacteristic, like she’s taking a moment to look at the beauty of the world. Or maybe this part of her is always there but she keeps it hidden under her hard shell. Either way, we have to bring back the old Taylor.

  “You ready?” I ask Cole.

  “Ready,” he says.

  We link hands, and I let the power slip out of me, combine with his, and release into the zone around us. It flows out almost like waves of light that travel through the air. I know it’s working because Taylor’s good eye lights up. The Oculus remains the same, unmoving, all-seeing. Hudson is next. Then Zachary. I have to assume that every other kid trapped in this zone will begin to remember, too.

  Immediately something begins to grow from the center of the pond. It’s a giant white column that stretches up far into the air. The pond begins to lift.

  “Get on!” I shout, and I step onto it. It’s moving slowly enough for us all to get stable before it’s too high.

  “Wait!” someone shouts.

  It’s Owen, running for us, for the column.

  “Faster,” Taylor says, stomping her foot on the platform, like that will help.

  Owen jumps, but his fingers miss the edge of the platform. We’re free from him . . . for the time being.

  “Edie, come back!” Owen shouts. “Come on.”

  He’s completely delusional if he thinks I would try to help him now. But he had tried to convince me to work with him before. Even if he was the last person left, I still wouldn’t help him.

  The platform continues to rise and the column grows. And when it stops, we collect the segment of the key that appears in glowing symbols there at the top.

  From far below there’s shouting. Not just Owen, but others. The pond morphs and flows like a path, and we run down it, away from the column. But around us, lightning begins to fill the air.

  Abigail. Shit. She still has her lightning power. And with us now ahead, she’s going to want to stop us.

  I dare to glance back. She’s got her fingers outstretched. Her eyes closed. Owen stands next to her, screaming at us to come back.

  I look away and see the silver waterfall. We’re almost there. But before I can reach it, something hits me from behind. There’s a shock of electricity, and then everything goes black.

  XXVII

  "Edie," a voice says in my mind. “Edie. Wake up.”

  The voice is familiar. Really familiar. My eyes don’t want to open. It’s too much effort. They’re dry and with them closed, everything is peaceful. The world is black.

  “Edie. Come on.”

  It’s the voice again. The world begins to fill in. I need to see the person behind the voice. It feels like I’m drawing sandpaper across my eyeballs, but I force my lids open. Light pours into my vision, blinding me only for a moment. Then shapes begin to fill in.

  “She’s coming around,” another voice says.

  Taylor. That’s who the voice belongs to. And the other voice is Cole. Cole who’d betrayed me. Except he hadn’t. He’d protected me . . . and it almost cost him his life.

  “What happened?” I manage to say. My voice is hoarse, like I haven’t talked in days. What I really need is water.

  “Abigail and Owen,” Hudson says, popping into my vision. “They attacked. Caught us by surprise.” His hand is on the center of my chest, only a couple inches below my neck, but he quickly pulls it back like I’ve caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

  “Abigail still has her lightning power,” Taylor says.

  Of course she does. Cole and I still have our power, taken from a god. And her power . . . the lightning . . . she took it from the old king on top of the mountain back in Simulation Avine. And now, thinking about it, I’m willing to bet he was one of the old gods also, hidden in the simulation.

  Raven’s simulation.

  Raven, of all the minor gods, is the one I’m sure we can trust the least.

  I sit up as the world slowly fills in. Taylor. Hudson. I turn my head, looking for Cole. He’s there, on his crutch, standing next to Zachary. But there’s an invisible boundary between them. Cole’s eyes meet mine, and I can’t help the smile that grows on my face.

  Hudson reaches down, offering me a hand to help me stand. “You know you almost died just there,” he says. “And
heck if I know how you didn’t. But not gonna lie. It would have sucked to finally find you again just to have you die on me.”

  “You healed her,” Taylor says, completely matter-of-fact.

  Hudson crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t.”

  She rolls her one good eye. The Oculus stays in place. “Whatever.”

  “What makes you think I can—” Hudson starts, but he stops talking.

  I don’t have to ask why. Symbols begin to scroll across my heads-up display, like a stream of data full of various colors and types of symbols. There are words I recognize, ancient symbols. There are even things that remind me of emoticons, though I can’t believe the gods use those.

  “System resetting,” Chaos’s voice says through the heads-up display. It’s his simulated voice, like this is what happens when there’s a . . .

  “Power failure,” I say aloud, blowing out a breath. A system reset will give us a little wiggle room.

  Taylor nods. “The system must’ve gotten fried from the lightning.”

  “Where did Abigail get power like that?” Zachary asks. He stands back, not quite part of the group. But he’s as much a part of it as any of us right now.

  I step to the side, giving him room to move forward and join our tenuous circle.

  “There was this old god,” Hudson says. “At the top of Mount Olympus, in the last simulation. He was programmed to be like Zeus or something. And the quest was to get the lightning. We tried. He totally kicked our asses. Then Abigail stole all his lightning. She channeled it through that necklace of hers.”

  Zachary’s eyes go wide and he quickly glances to me.

  I nod.

  “What did he look like?”

  Hudson shrugs. “An old guy. Sat in a throne. Acted like he owned the place. But when he started fighting, he was fast and could teleport from one place to the next. Totally not fair. I mean, we would have figured out a way to get the lightning from him, even if Abigail hadn’t shown up. That’s how it was programmed.”

  But Zachary shakes his head. “I don’t think he was programmed,” he says. “I think he was—”