CHAPTER
2
THAD
DAY 267, DAWN
Two days ago, Kevin went renegade, bolting to Search alone.
Yesterday his clock ran out.
And today—well, today seriously sucked. Maybe for him, and definitely for us, because one day later, we still didn’t know if Kevin had made it or not. All we knew was that today was his Day 366, and on the island of Nil, no one got a Day 366.
Swallowing bile, I realized my brutal beach run had done absolutely nothing to clear my head. If anything, I felt worse. Now I was exhaustedandedgy. Not the way to start a Nil day.
One meter from the tree line, I stopped, and in a move that would’ve stunned my coach back home, I forced myself to breathe. To consciously take in air.Focus the breath, focus the mind—it was my coach’s classic send-off before we hit the mountain, not that I’d ever really listened. I inhaled through my nose, breathing from my gut.Breathe in… hold… breathe out. Coach always swore that if we were doing it right, our breath would sound like a roaring ocean. Ironically, all I heardwasa roaring ocean. Behind me, potent liquid avalanches crashed into shore, crumbling one after another.
Breathe.
A black streak flashed on my right. Instantly amped, I pulled my knife and spun, fully aware I might already be toast. The blur dropped something near my toes, and my adrenaline rush died on the spot.
“Nice.” I stared at the dead bird at my feet. “Burton, you shouldn’t have.” Of all the cats on Nil, Burton stood out the most. A jet black cat, his paws were pure white. They looked like they’d been dipped in snow.
Sheathing my knife, I nodded at Burton. “Really, you keep it.”
Now the cat looked annoyed, like he’d hoped for more. Burton and I had come to a truce months ago. I tossed him fish scraps, he hissed in return, and occasionally he brought me dead stuff to show he actually cared.
Nothing like starting the day with a corpse, even if it was just a bird.
Abruptly, I felt like the bird. Dead on my feet, like I’d spent the day shredding fresh powder, but here on Nil, the day had barely begun. And thanks to Nil, I hadn’t touched a snowboard in exactly 266 days.
Dwelling on snow and corpses and breathing exercises not worth a crap, I trudged down the path, the one that led to the Wall.
I found my name and touched the letters like a blind man reading Braille. I did this every morning. Part of me knew it was borderline obsessive; the rest of me didn’t care. After nine months on the island, I’d earned the right to a few whacked-out rituals. The Wall was a memorial,ourmemorial, even for those of us still here.
The longer I traced, the calmer I felt, and by the time I finished my name a third time, I was almost Zen. Then I glanced at Kevin’s name and my near Zen shattered: five letters, then a blank space. His empty space screamed at me, begging to be filled. But to fill the space, I had to know what to carve; the ugly void was a cruel reminder thatI did not know.I closed my eyes. My head felt ready to explode. And if I felt this crappy, I couldn’t imagine how Natalie was holding up.
Not so great, I thought, picturing her face as she lurched into the City last night. Both hopeful and hopeless, she was a different kind of lost. And the worst part—the part that made me want to slam my head against the Wall—was that there was nothing to do but wait. Wait to grieve, wait to celebrate, wondering if Kevin’s fate was a sneak peek at our own. This was Nil’s favorite game, the one where she messed with our heads.
I prayed Kevin had won. But either way, he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. There was no overtime on Nil.
“Thad!”
Hearing my name, I turned away from the Wall. Rives was walking toward me, his dreads tied back, his face all business. A sleek wooden board rested against one hip.
“Any word on Kevin?” His eyes darted over my shoulder.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe today.” Rives looked as frustrated as I felt.
“Maybe.” We might as well have been discussing the weather.Think it’ll rain today? Maybe. Meaningless small talk about something over which we had no control.
I glanced at his board. Remembering this morning’s monster swells, I frowned. “You going out alone?”
“You know it,” Rives said, breaking into a grin. “Unless you’re game.”
For a half second, I actually considered it. Then I sighed. “I can’t.”
