Killswitch, page 19
“That’s our job,” Rin said. “We give balloon rides at festivals.”
“Are all your landings so bad?” Sunflower asked.
Rin looked at me archly. “My trainee is still learning how to land.”
Everybody laughed.
“Anyway,” Rin continued. “We were heading to Albuquerque when we heard the news.” The group murmured with understanding. “So, we decided to come here instead.”
“Well, you’re most welcome,” Sunflower said. “Stay as long as you want.” He looked thoughtful. “We don’t have any fuel for you, I’m afraid, but I can ask around at the other camps. Somebody probably brought some and you’ve certainly got enough trade goods.”
“Actually,” I broke in. “I thought we might head over to the Willamette camp. I know some people there.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Sunflower said. “You just take the Gallery to the fork, turn towards the North Outpost and look for the flag.”
I knew that flag, green with a starburst, and got an unexpected lump in my throat. Not because I was missing my Mom, I told myself; rather, because I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again. What would I say? How would she treat me?
Rin seemed to catch my thoughts. She leaned close. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “It’ll be all right.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I said so,” Rin replied, and put a hand on my arm.
And because it was Rin, I believed her.
Before moving on, we were asked if we wanted to shower. I realized they were being polite. I was probably pretty ripe after running for my life and then spending three days in a cramped balloon. Rin and I were handed rough towels and directed to individual cubicles while our clothes were taken away and washed. A half-hour later we were clean and ready to go. Rin’s hair gleamed and I noticed we both smelled faintly of moss, thanks to the soap.
We thanked Sunflower, left the tent and followed the Gallery, which was nothing more than a wide road. Encampments were laid out on either side. Some were little more than windbreaks and platforms for sleeping bags but others were elaborate artworks that reared up in all kinds of shapes. Some were illuminated by lanterns of many colors. It took us only a few minutes to reach the turn for the North Outpost.
And there before us was the Willamette camp. The flag fluttered over a collection of peaked tents adorned with glittering patterns of beads and pieces of glass. Mirror shards on ribbons clinked and tinkled as the tents billowed.
A little path of colored shells and stones was laid out. I took one step on it and stopped. I swallowed hard.
“What is it?” Rin asked.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Can’t what?”
“This. Meet my mom. I can’t do it tonight. I’m not ready. It’s been so long.”
My stomach was churning. I couldn’t take another step. It was almost as if someone had thrown up a force barrier in front of me.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to her,” I stuttered. “Especially with this thing in my skull. I can’t do this tonight, Rin. I’m sorry.”
Rin tilted her head and looked at me. I couldn’t quite gauge her expression.
“It’s okay,” she said at last. “We can come back tomorrow. I’m pretty tired, anyway. Should we just go back to Spa Town and hit the hammocks?”
I thought about it. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a bunch of people. And I sure didn’t want people to hear me talking in my sleep to the Kernel. We didn’t need to excite any curiosity.
I didn’t reply right away but Rin seemed to understand. “You know what?” she said. “It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we just take a walk?”
I looked at her gratefully.
We turned around and started heading back. I was so wrought up that I almost didn’t notice when Rin slipped her hand into mine.
Looming ahead of us was the volcano, a dark, high cone surrounded by a nimbus of colored lights. A brilliant shaft of ruby light erupted from it and burned high into the sky in a magical column. This close up, it took my breath away.
We walked around it and before I knew it we were climbing up the side of the crater towards the balloon. The lava was an endless black plain, featureless despite the light of the full moon. The lava had soaked up the day’s heat and now radiated a gentle warmth. But it was well after midnight and beginning to get chilly. A breeze ruffled our hair.
We reached the balloon. The basket was covered by the envelope, which gleamed purple in the moonlight. The basket had been partially unloaded and cartons and tanks were neatly laid out around it.
“The basket’s nearly empty,” I said. “There should be plenty of room for us to stretch out.”
“And it’s quiet,” Rin said. “Nobody around.”
We unlashed and rolled up one side of the envelope. A shaft of moonlight made a pool of silver on the floor of the basket. We tumbled inside. It was warm but not uncomfortable. Rin had stowed the camo blanket next to the control panel. She tugged it free and spread it on the floor. We sat on it, facing each other. Then she stretched out and propped her head in her hand. Her eyes followed me as I stretched out next to her.
We didn’t say anything. It was so quiet that I could hear Rin’s breath. My heart was hammering and my pulse beat in my ears.
I broke the silence first.
“Rin,” I said.
“What?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Want some hot chocolate?”
She laughed. I laughed too for the sheer joy of hearing her. After days of flight and fear, we were released, for this night at least. I don’t know how it happened but we seemed to reach some kind of understanding.
We did the ritual of consent and then Rin was in my arms. It was different from the last time I’d held her, weeping and terrified. She felt strong and confident.
I felt her warm breath on my neck and then she pressed her lips against mine. We touched each other, like explorers. I felt my nerves catch fire. Of course I’d had Immersion sex and been in the heads of people who’d posted on the intimacy sites. But this was... different.
I wasn’t sure where my hands and lips should go. People in the Immersion experiences always seemed so confident and everything was so glossy and perfect. The partners all moved together in some kind of flowing dance.
The reality was messier, clumsier. More confusing. And quicker.
But it was somehow more beautiful, too. The moves were the same as I’d experienced in Immersion, but they were also unique somehow.
Because Rin was unique.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Maybe it was my hormones but the Kernel didn’t invade my dreams.
I awoke with Rin lying on my arm, which had gone to sleep. Her hair was mussed and her mouth was open. She was snoring gently. And I had to pee.
Despite all that, the breaking day was gorgeous. Rin was dazzling. Everything had an exquisiteness to it. I gently pulled myself free and clambered out of the basket. My arm was dead, so it was hard work. I shook it until I felt pins and needles.
The air was cool and fresh. But the sun was coming up and steam rose from the ground as its warmth devoured the dew. I was naked and barefoot. I walked gingerly down to a ripple in the lava and peed. A lizard perched on the rise looked at me skeptically. It was beautiful, too. I sat down on the ledge— scaring the lizard— and watched the sun crest the rim of the crater. The sky turned from pearly gray to luminous salmon, streaked by clouds. Flocks of birds flapped by in honking parades.
“It’s beautiful.”
I turned. Rin had come up behind me. She was fully dressed and held two coffee bulbs. I hunched down, aware of my nudity.
“Uh, morning,” I said. “I should, uh, go get dressed.”
“No, it’s okay,” Rin said and dropped down next to me. She handed me a coffee. I pulled the tab and felt the bulb warm in my hands. I looked at Rin. She was facing ahead, watching the sunrise. She was bathed in rosy light. She was almost too beautiful to look at. I felt like singing.
“Rin,” I began.
“Shhh,” she said. “Just watch.”
We silently watched the sun rise in a molten orange ball. I kept sneaking peeks at Rin.
We finished the coffee and she stood up.
“Well,” she said. “We’d better head back. We’ve got to get ready to see your Mom.” She smiled at me, then turned and began walking back to the basket.
I was confused. Shouldn’t we be flinging ourselves into each other’s arms and professing our undying love? That’s how I felt. Or was it all supposed to be casual and no big deal? Had it all been a result of too much moonlight and kur? I had no idea. Had I done something wrong? Had I failed to do something?
Despite everything, Rin was more of a mystery to me now than ever. I had to talk to her when I had the chance. But I could see now was not the time. I started after her but I wasn’t paying enough attention to the rugged ground and stubbed my toes, so I was limping by the time I reached the basket.
Rin was waiting next to it with her bag slung over her shoulder. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. I scrambled into the basket and dressed quickly.
“Grab some rat bars,” Rin said over her shoulder as I put on my boots. “We can eat breakfast on the way. It’ll save time.”
“What flavor?” I called back.
“Whatever’s handy.” She was all business.
I rummaged around and found the last blueberry bar. Rin had said she liked those.
I scrambled out of the basket. Rin helped me fold down the envelope and lash it back down.
“All right,” I said, and took a breath. “I think I’m ready.”
“You think you’re ready?”
“I’m ready,” I said with more certainty than I felt. “It’s just, I thought we’d do it later in the day.”
“We don’t want to take a chance that your Mom’s out,” Rin replied. “We don’t want to spend time hunting her down. We still have to go bargain for fuel. Earlier’s better. Also, there’ll be fewer people out to see you, and that’s good.”
She seemed a little gruff.
“Well,” I said testily. “Maybe we should have skipped the sunrise.”
“Oh, no,” Rin replied. “You never skip a sunrise.” She paused and then added, “You never know when you’ll see another one.”
I was still thinking about what she meant as we set off for the Willamette camp.
We took the Gallery. Even though it was just after dawn, a few people were out, making their way to the trading stalls to do business and haul back their stuff before it got hot. I caught my breath. Up ahead, strolling toward us, was a woman decked out in feathers. She had a mask of raven feathers and the huge pinions of redemption birds had been made into big wings that were attached to a framework and spread out behind her in plumes. She wore sandals beaded with images of birds that had once flown the skies in their millions but were now extinct.
Mom.
Walking beside her, pushing a handcart loaded with trade goods, was a girl of about fourteen with long bangs and flowing robes.
My sister Jola.
They came toward us. I froze. Rin stopped, confused, and looked at me but I couldn’t move.
They came up to us and then passed by. They hadn’t recognized me. I slowly let out my breath.
Then from behind us, I heard a voice ask quietly, “Mavo?”
I turned. My mother had stopped in the road. Her arms were crossed.
“Were you just going to walk by without saying hello?” she asked.
I stuttered but before I could form actual words, Mom shook her plumed head and said “Not here. Too many ears and eyes. Follow me.”
We went to the Basilicas. They were lava tubes that emerged from the collapsed rim of the volcano. Over the years people had turned those natural tunnels into art. One was lined floor to ceiling with mirrored tiles; another had been carved into a cathedral, gargoyles and all. Mom led us to one so narrow and low-ceilinged that she had to collapse her wings as we stooped inside. However, the tube broadened out as we walked. The air was cool but dry. The tube was lit by a dim reddish glow that got stronger as we proceeded. At last we reached the end, which opened out into a sort of cavern illuminated by a red, pulsing glow and gushes of fiery light. It was like staring into the very throat of a live volcano.
On the way to the Basilicas, Mom hadn’t said a word. Now she turned to me.
“We made this,” she said. “Normally it has volcano sounds but I turned them off. I don’t think there’ll be many people arriving this early. We can talk.” She unstrapped the harness holding her wings and spread them out on the floor, inviting us to sit.
Then she took off her mask. Her face was older and more weathered than I remembered. It was framed by sun-bleached hair. Her dark, sun-coarsened skin was split by a brilliant smile.
I have no idea what Rin was thinking next as Mom embraced me, Jola threw herself on me and we all broke down in tears.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I knew you’d be back,” Mom said, stroking my hair. Somehow, she still smelled like the ocean she’d lost so long ago.
“You jerk!” Jola said. I noticed for the first time that she was almost as tall as me. I must have missed a growth spurt.
I don’t remember much about the next few minutes. I do remember denying I was a mass killer and Mom making sympathetic sounds and Jola punching me hard several times on the back and shouting: “You took my doll!”
I reached into my backpack and brought it out. Jola’s face exploded with joy.
“Ellie!” she shouted. She took the doll gingerly, as if it were a fragile child, looked at it long and hard, then clutched it fiercely.
And then Rin was hugging my Mom, and Jola and they seemed perfectly fine with that, as if Rin had been their closest friend all their lives. And once again, I marveled at Rin’s magic. Because she hadn’t even told them her name.
At last, we all came back to ourselves. I felt as if something dark and heavy had rolled off me.
Mom looked at me, put a hand to my face. “I knew you didn’t kill anybody,” she said firmly.
Of course she would say that. Mothers were always in denial about their criminal kids.
“No,” I said. “Really. Everything you’ve heard about me is wrong. I didn’t do any of it.”
“Of course not,” my mom replied. “I knew that.”
“Mom—” I began. “You’ve got to believe me!”
“I do,” she insisted, a little crossly. “What are we arguing about?”
“I’m Rin, by the way,” Rin said.
Mom looked at her and then at me. “You could have introduced us,” she said accusingly. “Well, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Your manners haven’t improved.” She reached out both hands to Rin. “I’m Solstice. I was named after the canyon, not the celebration.”
I was sure Rin didn’t know either one, but she smiled and accepted my mother’s hands.
“It’s a beautiful name,” Rin said.
Mom beamed. “Thank you. I heard you two came in a balloon.” Rin looked startled but Mom added, “Word travels fast around here. We also get the news feeds. So when I heard that Mavo had escaped those Unity goons I knew he’d be coming here. And then the balloon arrived, so I put two and two together. Thank you for helping my son.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Jola said sarcastically. “He’s still a jerk, even if he is your boyfriend. Did you do it yet?”
Mom gave her a thunderous look. “None of that Immersion talk here!”
“Mom!” I said, amazed and not a little angry. “You let her Immerse?” After all, the chance to Immerse had been one of the reasons I’d fled my home.
Jola seemed like she would say something but my mom rapped out, “Jola! I need to talk to your brother. Alone, please.”
Six years hadn’t changed my sister’s famous pout.
“You keep doing that and your face will implode,” I said.
Jola jumped up. Rin rose smoothly.
“Jola,” Rin said. “I’ve heard a lot about these Basilicas. Could you give me a tour?”
Jola was still fuming but Rin reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her rat bar. “I never can finish one of these,” she said. “Want to share? It’s blueberry.”
Despite herself, Jola’s eyes widened. “You’re my new best friend,” she said. “Let’s go see the Mirror Cave. It’s like there’s a thousand of you! Oh, and then there’s the Pipe Organ. They drilled all these holes and they make, like, harmonies when you sing.”
“That sounds fantastic,” Rin said. As they left, I heard Jola asking: “So you’re a Realist? What shows do you watch?”
When their voices had vanished, Mom turned to me. “Of course I didn’t let your sister Immerse,” she said with distaste. “What kind of mother do you think I am? But kids will hear things. They hang around the train depot, the emergency transmitter. But I was never afraid she would run off.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I had to go.”
“And here you are.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was ashamed, not that I had left, but that I’d never tried to reach out to her in all those years.
“You don’t know what it’s like to see your child suddenly vanish,” Mom said. “Especially when everyone else you’ve known is gone. And did you even think that maybe your little sister could have missed her big brother?”
“I had to go,” I said lamely. “Mom, I had to get out of there.”
“Did you?” she asked frostily.
We sat there and the silence stretched between us.
“I assume you’re wearing a disguise?” she finally said. “You’re not actually a Third?”
“No,” I said, and added, “Not bad, huh?”
“Didn’t fool me,” Mom said. “and it wouldn’t fool anybody with a molecular sniffer.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I conceded.
“I think you’re safe so far, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to stay here. Besides, it’s not in the Plan.”
