Catalyst (31 page)

A
T DUSK, WE ALL DESCEND THE LADDER QUICKLY.
Leftover light from the sunset warms the western edge of sky as we stretch and get ready to leave Chicago.

“Let’s go,” Cy says, when he spins around. “Wait. Where is Élodie?”

“I don’t know. I thought she was upstairs with you guys,” Micah says. We all spill out onto the boardwalk, when footsteps approach.

“
Je suis ici.
” Élodie rounds the corner of a far shanty, wiping her mouth. “I’m okay. I got too close to Caliga and felt nauseated. I had to . . . you know.” She pats her stomach.

Everyone exhales a group sigh of relief.

“So Hex, where do we go?” I ask.

“I have the coordinates on my holo. We’ll go by the Ilmo border until we find border station twelve into Minwi. There’s a guy that will let us through, according to the instructions Chicago House left us.”

I’m glad to leave the stench of Chicago behind us. Soon the boardwalks are replaced by streets and sidewalks, crowded in by buildings. Their walls glow with holo ads that illuminate the evening with junk we don’t want. Luckily there aren’t many people around after dark. Caliga stays close to me, which keeps us separated from the rest of the group. I give Cy several meaningful looks, and he practices his trait while we walk the hours to the Minwi border.

He whispers things that no one else is privy to, and grows bolder with his touch trait. Sometimes, it’s only an airy kiss on my cheek. Other times, a caress that leaves me weak in the spine. I love that these secret offerings are for me, and only for me.

Though he walks with Élodie, they don’t say much. Hex and Vera walk with Micah between them, who’s gesticulating and trying to explain everything that’s happened since he left Carus. Hex keeps his four fists clenched behind his back and Vera doesn’t even look at Micah.

Conversation alone can’t make people forgive you. Though Caliga, Blink, Cy, and I still wear our red bracelets, Micah’s got another burden he can’t seem to shake. Maybe he never will.

When the sun rises, we find border patrol station twelve. Hex puts on his huge trench coat and Vera takes out a makeup compact to touch up the places where her green skin has peeked through. Caliga slips her hand into mine and I squeeze hers thankfully. We collectively shake off our exhaustion and enter the building. Hex veers us toward the office for unregistered Minwi applicants.

“We’re looking for George Frederick,” he tells the clerk there. “We have an appointment.”

“All of you?” The lady looks at us suspiciously.

Hex nods, and she points to an office down the hall. Hex knocks and it’s opened by an ordinary middle-aged man, with gray hair at his temples and dark brown skin sporting a few wrinkles. He frowns.

“You’re late. Come in and keep the door open.”

We all crowd into the room, with Caliga peeking in from the hallway. He says rather loudly, “Your paperwork is done. It was sent through last week. You passed your physicals just fine.”

He puts his hand under the desk and pulls out a huge duffel bag and kicks it over to Cy. As he continues to drone on about our new housing assignments and jobs, a mellow, deep voice enters our heads.

These are provisions and camping equipment. Give me your holo.
He gestures to Hex, who hands it to him.
I’ll download a map. Stay away from the roads. When you reach the edge of town, it should be a two days’ walk.

We try not to make any squeaks or gasps of shock. He has Cy and Ana’s trait! But it’s dizzying to simultaneously hear his real voice lecturing us about Minwi’s strict labor laws.

I wish you all the best of luck. Kria is looking forward to meeting you.

Cy steps forward and cocks his head.
Who is Kria?

Mr. Frederick’s eyebrows rise up and he smiles.
Look at you! Well!
he says with surprise. He’s still continuing his audible list of the Top Ten Minwi Do’s and Don’ts. Meanwhile, he’s loading a map onto Hex’s holo using a personal, thimble-sized holo adapter. This guy is seriously the king of multitasking.

Ah. Kria told me I wasn’t the only one. She’s head of Wingfield and has granted you safe passage. If all goes well, I might be there myself soon.

After his last lecture, he hands Hex his holo and gestures for us to follow him. He rubs his face when he gets too close to Caliga, but that passes after I shove her behind me.

He leads us out to the exit of the building, and points to a street where several new Minwi residents are loading onto huge, public magpods.

“Third magpod, leaving in half an hour,” he orders us.

Take a left at the end of the block and keep walking. Your holo map will lead you from then on. Good luck.
He gives us a genuine smile. “Good luck.”

As we walk away, Cy twists around for one last look at Mr. Frederick. They lock eyes, and Mr. Frederick gives a slight bowing nod to Cy, before withdrawing back into the building.

Cy captures my arm in his as we catch up to the rest.

“I wish he could teach you. That was amazing, what he was doing,” I say, trying to keep my excitement quiet.

“I know.” Cy smiles but glues his eyes to the ground, as if afraid someone might see his enthusiasm. “I asked him if he would teach me, someday. And he said yes.”

I smile and squeeze his hand. Cy squeezes back and lets a grin through.

The farther from town we go, the tighter the grasp the Minwi wilderness has on the land. Enough of the poisons that leached into the soil of Neia have hit lower Minwi too, and most people stay in the safe confines of the towns and cities. We hike along crumbling sidewalks and streets overgrown with spiky weeds and saplings. My scent trait tells me things I can’t see—that the plastic trash inside the crumbling houses is still not decomposing; that the soil is too acidic. There are some good things, though. Ivy twines itself over feral buildings, swallowing them, and non-toxic plants erupt in tufts here and there. Life is reemerging lustily. It’s nothing like the Deadlands.

We hide in a musty, abandoned barn when the ominous hum of hoverpods approaches, because we’re too close to a bustling town. But after one day spent slumbering inside another abandoned house, we ready ourselves for the last trek toward Wingfield in the watery light of afternoon.

Cy checks on me by whispering in my head. Things like
Is your headache getting better?
or
Look out for that thorn bush
. It’s all welcome. He even tests it by yelling
Look at the vampire woodchucks!
But none of the others bat an eyelash.

He also practices cutting off the circulation to my thumb, and my thumb only. Most of the time, he misses and everyone yells “
Thumbs!
” at Cy, holding up their universally white digits. He cusses, then tries again.

Élodie continues to lead us in the darkness toward our destination, but we’re too tired to hike all night long. Micah is the most silent of us all. He’s less talkative the closer we get to Wingfield. I know he’s thinking of Dyl, and of the big, yawning unknown of what we’re about to encounter. Here I am, with my Ondine’s curse and all its breathing problems, and Micah is the one who’s perpetually holding his breath.

Only ten miles away now,
Cy says in my head.

“I know,” I murmur.

“What are you talking about?” Caliga whips her head back at us.

“Sorry, Cal. We’re getting really close.” My legs ache from so many miles of walking and only shallow breaths to supply the oxygen they need. There was a time when Dyl would tell me I needed to put my necklace on. Those reminders to take care of myself seem like they happened in a dream. I miss her so much.

I pause to take the last gold pocket watch from my bag and hang it around my neck with a torn edge of a shirt used as a necklace. As soon as the watch bounces heavily against my rib cage, my chest swells and the air pours into me, lifting some of the cloudy tiredness in my head. Micah stops and stretches. The sun is turning gold just over the horizon. It’ll be dark soon.

“What do you guys think about camping? Maybe we could get another nap in before we enter Wingfield. Just in case.”

I’m dying to see Dyl and everybody, but I’m exhausted too.

We all look around, and no one makes a case to go forward. It goes to show you how fearful we are of the unfamiliar, that we’re willing to put off reuniting with our loved ones for another uncomfortable and unshowered night on the run. Hex rummages through the duffel bag and digs out some water-purifying tablets. “I’ve got five left.” He drops an azure tablet each into several water bottles. I grab three of them.

“I’ll be back. I thought maybe I smelled a fresh stream nearby.”

I leave the temporary camp, noting that Élodie and Cy are talking now. It’s not a bad thing to give them a little space. They haven’t had much time to keep their friendship going since we left Avida, and anyway, it looks like she’s lecturing him on something I don’t want to hear.

Here and there are traces of the old neighborhoods beneath the greenery that’s taken over, like bits of broken patio furniture clad in shredded plastic and tough weeds. A brown rabbit with asymmetrical ears dashes ahead of me. Micah zapped one just like it yesterday for dinner, but nobody took a bite when the cooked flesh reeked of heavy metals.

Finally, I hear the rushing sound of bubbling water. Hidden behind a thicket, it’s a tiny stream only two feet wide. I drop to my knees and fill the bottles one by one. I watch the purification tablets dissolve and the water goes from bright blue to clear, telling me that it’s safe to drink now.

I tip a bottle to my lips, taking long, noisy gulps.

“Wow, that’s good,” I say to nobody, wiping my mouth.

A crackle breaks the quiet behind me. It’s the sound of a plastic trash bag being stepped on. There’s a warm breath on my neck, and a scent that doesn’t belong to anyone in our group.

“Care to share?”

I whirl around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and the smell. A large hand covers my mouth and strangles my cry for help. A strong arm half lifts, half drags me deeper into the forest as I struggle furiously.

I can’t breathe. I can’t even open my mouth to try to bite my attacker. I swipe the attacker’s face and my nails rake against a stubbly beard.

“Ow. Stop that.” His voice is gravelly, as if he hasn’t spoken in years. “There’s no need to fight me. You’ve got at least another two hundred years left to go. I’m not going to end that now.”

My hands go limp. My attacker knows about my longevity trait? Before I can even wonder who he is, he throws me down in a ring of juniper trees and pins me to the ground.

Now I can see him. His hair is tangled and yellow, the color of dandelions. His skin is pale and almost greenish in the shadows. By the base of his neck, an inch-long ragged scar points to the hollow of this throat. Absurdly long blond eyelashes fringe plain brown eyes.

“Please don’t scream,” he says. He’s still pressing his hand against my mouth.

Since when do kidnappers say “please”?

I force a tiny nod, and he releases my face. I gulp the air, coughing and clearing out the muddled sensation in my head.

“Goodness. So this is what it looks like to be a slave to one’s imperfections.”

“What?” I wheeze, coughing more.

“Your Ondine’s curse.” He narrows his eyes, centers them on the pocket watch hanging from my throat. “Ah. I’ve been looking for this.” He puts a knife to my throat, sawing off the cloth necklace, and in seconds has my watch enclosed within his fist. My eyes grow wide with disbelief.

“Are you . . . Endall?”

“Yes.” He smiles crookedly.

I can’t believe it.

His clothes are dirty, but they’re not old, nor worn. He doesn’t seem insane, nor does he seem safe. I breathe carefully, trying to stay calm.

“How did you . . . What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take back what is rightfully mine.” He releases one of my hands to pull out a tarnished watch from a hidden inside shirt pocket. “This one has fallen prey to the humidity. And time. Time is a slow-roasting hell for everything in the world but us.”

Zelia! What’s taking you so long? Where are you?
Cy’s voice is urgent, worried.

“Cy!” I yell.

Endall jumps off me and dashes into the darkness beyond the trees, his footsteps fading rapidly in the distance.

“Wait! Endall! I need that watch!” I scream. “Wait!”

Far away, his voice calls back to me.

“Where you’re going, darling, you won’t need one.”

Crap. What does that mean?

Zelia! Where are you?

“Zel?” Caliga calls out, maybe twenty feet away. Feet crash through the brush behind me as I slowly get to my feet, rubbing my arms where Endall held me down.

“I’m here!” I yell back.

Cy and Caliga see me from across the clearing, picking dead leaves out of my hair and stumbling into the light. I tell them everything—about the attack, Endall, the pocket watch that is no longer in my possession. And my imminent death without it.

Cy’s face clouds with worry. “We’ve got to find this Wingfield place. Now.”

So much for one last night camping under the stars.

We scurry to douse the fire and gather up our bags. As the darkness of the western sky starts to wipe out the blush of sunset, we start jogging southward, but I have to stop frequently because of the lactic acid cramps in my legs. After two hours, it’s pitch-dark. Hex turns on the glowing green holo and points.

“It’s only a half mile now. Just over that hill.”

My Ondine’s curse must be catching, because at the sight of the hill, we all take a huge, collective breath.

Ten minutes of walking later, we stop. Tiny pinprick stars twinkle above, and a sliver of moon rises over the eastern edge of sky. There’s a plain, hard scent of mineral-rich water close by. Caliga blurts out in surprise, “Look. It’s a lake.”

“Not a lake. It’s an old quarry,” Élodie says. “You can see where they cut rock along the edges.”

“Hex, do a search on mining companies named Wingfield in Minwi, will you?” I ask. Hex complies, searching his holo through the public info channels. After a minute, he stops.