THAD
DAY 280, DAWN
I’d risen before the sun, eager to see Charley. But so far, I was the only one up.
It was just me and hundreds of faceless names on the Wall. I thought about the skull Charley had found. Maybe it belonged to someone on this Wall, maybe not.No necklace, no clue, Rives had reported last night.Maybe he was a loner, maybe he was before our time. The skull was as clean as the skeleton in my science lab. I don’t know if he got a cross on the Wall, but he got one back at the Bay.
My fingers skimmed the wood, tracing my name. One cross above, one cross below, and my space empty, like Nil’s whacked-out version of tic-tac-toe. In eighty-five days, one of us would win. And one would lose.
There was no draw on Nil.
Ramia’s name caught my eye. So did her fresh cross, but I refused to start the day with Ramia. A new name begged for attention: Charley, with ane-y.
I wished I’d kissed her. Then I remembered the hesitation in her eyes, the reason I hadn’t.Damn, I thought.I wish she’d kissed me.
“Thad!”
Talla burst from the trees, her blond hair flying behind her. A red mark on her face stuck out like a burn.
“Rory,” she gasped. “He came in. I had watch at the Shack. Told him what he could take—a spear, a water gourd. A week of food.” Slowing, Talla took a breath. “He told me to eff off, that he’d take what he wanted. He grabbed knives, the last metal ones. I tried to stop him, but—he’s gone.” She looked beyond pissed. “With knives and a net and God knows what else.”
Talla’s words hit home, and the reality cut deep.The last two metal knives, gone. Knives we can’t replace, knives we need.The only one left in the City hung at my waist.
“When did this happen?” I asked, already calculating my route. “And what happened to your face? Don’t tell me he hit you.”
“He hit me.” She nodded, her face furious. “Maybe twenty minutes ago? I’m not sure. I was out.” Her hand went to her cheek, which was already swelling.
I wished I’d punched Rory yesterday after all.
“Get Rives,” I told her. “Tell him I’m on it. And lie down, okay?”
Talla nodded, my cue to take off. The clock was ticking.
I took the easy trail out, the one by the Shack, the same one Charley and I had walked yesterday when we went to Crystal Cove. The other paths were narrow and rough, or so open they didn’t look like a trail. Worn and marked, this trail was like hiking for Cub Scouts. Rory looked more resort-coddled than survival-campy. He’d go Cub Scout all the way.
Keeping low, keeping quiet, I jogged down the path, working through what I would say when I found him. Trees came and went. Nil listened quietly as I tracked Rory.
I passed the Cove, and when I was out of waterfall range, I paused, sifting through the stillness, searching for sounds of Rory.Wind whispered, leaving echoes of silence. No ocean now, which was telling. No animal noises, which was neither reassuring nor remarkable. And no human sounds, which was disappointing.
The path narrowed, snaking inland through clumps of trees, toward the mudflats. I was at least two kilometers from the City now, maybe more. I was about to turn back when I heard him—crashing along like a hippo, which initially I thought he was.
Rory was lumbering along, swinging both arms, a bulging bag slung across one shoulder. Occasionally one of his arms would strike a branch, whacking it away, only for it to snap back, like Nil wanted to whip his ass, too.
I padded up the path, careful to avoid twigs or anything that might crack under my feet. I was only four meters behind him now. He’d never make it alone, I realized, not if he let me get this close without turning.
“Rory,” I said.
He spun. Seeing me, his eyes narrowed, and one hand flew to his satchel. “Whaddya want?”
To kick your sorry ass as payback for Talla. Restraining my temper, I tried diplomacy first. “Five minutes,” I said.
“Two,” he snarled.
Whatever, I thought, already tired of his tough-guy routine. “Fine. Two. So here it is. I know you want off the island. I get it. But you can’t steal, dude.” I pointed at his bag. “Not the net, and not the knives. So cough ’em up.” My voice went hard. “Now.”
Rory’s sunburned face sparked like an angry tomato. “I don’t think so. I’m not in your little island cult. I can do as I please.”
It took all my restraint to only use words. “You can’t knock girls out and steal crap that’s not yours. You can take clothes, a water gourd, a week’s worth of food. And a spear. Basic survival gear. But not the knives. They’re City property. Same for the net.”
