The fresh air outside cleared my head. “Okay, about Nil.” The word felt foreign on my tongue. “What is this place? How’d I get here? Tell me everything.”
We started away from the camp, and the ocean rumble faded. I paid attention, keeping my bearings as we walked, and I was about to repeat my question when Thad answered.
“Have you ever seen the reality television showSurvivor?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay, well, Nil’s kind of like that, except no one shows up with bags of rice, and no one gets letters from home. And of course, no one gets voted off.”
Again, I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.
“So how do we leave? I meancanwe leave?” Before he could answer, I blurted out, “I found a skull.”
“A skull?” Thad stopped walking. “Where?”
“Near the bay, just off the beach. I”—I paused, swallowing—“I tripped over it.”
Thad looked thoughtful.
“It looked old,” I added. “Like it had been there a while.” When he didn’t say anything, I spoke quietly. “Thad, what happened to that person?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” The honesty in his voice was pained.
“So, can we leave?” I repeated.
“Sure. Everyone leaves, eventually.” The flatness in Thad’s voice was back.
“Really?” I asked, suddenly skeptical. How? How do we get home?”
“Same way you got here, Charley. A gate. Catch one, and you’re gone.”
“A gate?” I frowned. I hadn’t seen anything that looked like a gate, or even a door. Then a lightbulb went off. “Are you talking about the shimmers?”
“Shimmers?” Thad smiled. “I haven’t heard that term, but yeah, same thing. Shimmer. Liquid wall. Air boil. Heat wave. Wormhole. Portal. Gate.” He paused. “Call it what you want, but it’s all the same thing. It’s the only way off the island.”
I had a million questions about the gates, about Nil. Each question waved its hand, begging to be called on first, so naturally I asked something else. “You said Sport Chek was a store back home, but I’ve never heard of it. Where’s home?”
“Whistler, British Columbia. Just north of Vancouver in Canada. You?”
“I’m American. I live near Atlanta, in a town called Roswell.”
We were moving again through the trees, parallel to the ocean. The only sound was our footfalls; there were no crickets, insects, or animal noises at all.Weird, I thought.The silent island.
“Roswell? Like the town with all the alien stuff?” Thad was asking.
I laughed. “Yeah. That’s Roswell, New Mexico. I live in Roswell, Georgia.” I paused. “But after the shimmer in the parking lot, Roswell, Georgia, doesn’t seem too normal either.”
“Let me guess. It was noon, really bright sun. The ground melted, took flight, and the next thing you knew, you were burning andblacked out. And then you woke up naked.” His tone was so nonchalant he may as well have been describing the menu at the local Chick-fil-A.
“Pretty much. Is that what happened to you?” I asked.
“Different verse, same song.”
I shot Thad a puzzled look.
He smiled. “Everyone’s story is pretty much the same. Different places, different countries, but it’s always noon, it’s always sunny. There’s always a gate and then—poof. You wake up naked. Here on Nil.”
You forgotalone.
