Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (7 page)

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O
NE NIGHT
, dead-to-the-world after a muscle-tearing climb up one of the mountainsides, a movement sinks into my subconscious. Light doze or not, a part of me always stays alert to my surroundings. It’s a matter of survival. So when I wake up crouched on the floor, dressed in nothing but boxers, I know something has happened and my body’s ready for it—even if I left my brain back on my pillow.

Peering around the moon-dark room, I zone in on a small huddled mass in a corner by my desk. Double checking Owen’s bed, I see it’s empty, the sheets and pillows literally torn from the sides. My eyes are pulled back to the mass and my skin crawls. Then I hear a whimper. The moonlight shifts and I see a pattern of black against red-orange. A tiger cub. The small form trembles and I relax, understanding hitting like a ton of bricks. Not knowing how it’ll respond, I approach with caution and stroke its fur before hefting it over my shoulder and padding down to the Ol’ Man’s room. I think we have our answer about Owen.

The following morning Olivia and I meet in the meadow for our usual run. There are several paths that follow the border of the fields, sometimes winding through the grasses, at other times dipping into the trees and providing shade. If we leave early enough, we can catch glimpses of deer as they meander through the foliage. They hold their ears alert and their bodies stiff as we break through their morning routine. Then, in a smooth leap, they’re outta there. It’s different from when we’re trying to approach them without being sensed; then they stay relaxed, nosing the plants and their young. They don’t even know we’ve been there by the time we’re slipping away.

Now, though, we’re not even making a pretense of quiet. As we pound over the uneven ground, we send birds hopping from branch to branch, calling wildly to each other. Sometimes a whole flock will, as one, swarm away from a tree and soar and dip in intricate patterns. I wonder how they do it and what would happen if one of them decided to turn in the opposite direction. Would they all become confused and try to change their pattern; would they crash into each other? Would they kick him out of the flock, or would they try to show him how to fit in? Would they simply let him fly away?

Olivia seems thoughtful and doesn’t speak much until we’re a couple miles into it. “It’s almost time, you know,” she blurts. “I can feel it—the layers pulling at me. I’m all off balance, like a part of me is already trying to leave.”

“Huh. Is that how I was able to convince you to scale the cliff? You can’t think straight, so you have to agree with my stupid ideas?” I laugh as we grimace at the same time and flex our now healed fingers. It wasn’t one of my finer ideas, but I can’t help pushing her to see how she handles herself. She says she used to be scared of heights, like to the point of sickness, but I can’t see it. I feel her honey eyes burn into me and instantly I’m on alert. Her brain has a new vibe but I can’t guess what she’s planning. Then I see it.

We’re rounding a turn, which leads from the forest into a straightaway about three-quarters of a mile long through an open glade, before it bends back into the woods. We’d been cruising at a pretty decent clip, taking turns as the pace setter, but as I watch her from the corner of my eyes, I can see a subtle change. Her stride lengthens and her pace picks up.

At first, I stay easily at her side, but then she switches to high gear. I can almost feel it as Olivia seems to slide down into herself, becoming something deeper and more than just a teenaged kid. Her body morphs into a blur of perfectly synched arms and legs. The trees seem to bend and gravitate towards her as she sprints away from me; she’s so fast, I have no hope of catching up, much less keeping up. And that worries me. How can I keep her safe if I can’t even keep her in sight? A whoop of wild laughter floats back in my direction.

When I reach her, she is sprawled across the top of a huge boulder in the shade of some gnarled old trees. I heft myself up, still gasping for air, and collapse next to her. She doesn’t move over, so we’re lying with our arms almost touching. I close my eyes and concentrate on steadying my breathing. Kind of mortifying, since Olivia’s not even winded.

A shadow slides over my face. Olivia has propped herself on an elbow and is staring at me.

“You’re not going soft on me are you? Hyperventilating after a little jog like that?” She cocks an eyebrow and smirks down at me, knowing she’s found the one way she can beat me. I groan and roll my eyes, wiping the sweat from my forehead with my arm. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to outrun her. I would take this as a personal challenge, but I can’t lie.

“I’m setting the pace next time. You’re going to kill me, running at the speed of combustion. You’re insane.” I try to keep my wheezing to a minimum. Closing my eyes again, I grip my necklace between my fingers. It’s warm to the touch, and the smooth texture relaxes me. My heart rate starts to settle back into the realm of almost normal. Olivia shifts again.

“What?” I grunt. I don’t even open my eyes this time but can tell she wants to ask something.

“Nothing.” She pauses. “Well, actually, I was just curious about your necklace. The black stone is unusual. Where’d you get it?” She tugs it from my fingers for a closer look. “You mess with it when you’re worried or thinking too deep.” At that, I pop open an eye. She drops the stone and glances away, like she’s embarrassed she’s essentially admitted she watches me, too. The thought makes me smile.

“It’s sort of my good luck charm.” I shrug and sit up. “When I was little, things at home sucked and I ran away a lot. One time, when I was hiding out, I found this rock lying in a parking lot; I thought it would make a good skipping stone. It had this hole in it, this one imperfection. I picked it up and put it in my pocket and headed back home because I was cold and hungry and tired of it all.

“When I got there, I walked in on the boyfriend whaling on my mom. I confronted him. It was the first time I’d stood up to him. The aftermath wasn’t pretty; I was a ten-year-old kid. But I could feel the change in me. I knew I could make it through; I wasn’t stuck in that kind of life. I found a cord and laced it through the rock, and I’ve worn it since.”

Olivia’s quiet a minute. Then she says, “Well, I guess it really was perfect in its own way; it just needed to find its purpose.” She grazes my shoulder with her fingertips, and then slips down the boulder. “Race you home!”

Chapter Five: Leadership

(SAMUEL)

I
’M PAIRED WITH A TEACHER NAMED
C
HRISTOPHER
, who for some reason thinks “Chris” sounds too wimpy and prefers to go by Topher. That’s cool with me; I mean, he’s covered in tattoos and piercings and muscles, so I let him go by whatever he wants. Of course, he pronounces it Toe-Fur. With that mental image, it’s hard to say his name with a straight face. He nicknames everyone. We just go with it.

Like everyone else, I do basic physical training. At first I’d been afraid the Leader deal was going to be boring compared to the stuff everyone else is learning. I mean, come on. Save the world? Protect the Seeker with your life? Heal huge, bloody gashes? Or lead a bunch of people who are already supposed to be following the Save-the-World girl. My role isn’t exactly screaming: EXCITEMENT INVOLVED. I was wrong. It is fun. Blindfolding everyone and taking them on a hike through the forest, while keeping them safe and aware of where they need to go? That’s what I’m talking about. I let Livs fall once. Payback.

One evening, at a short Circle Time, Gunther tells us his own version of Thunder and those saddle bags of his. In Mom’s stories, Thunder had magical saddle bags, which held all of our supplies. Gunther’s version is slightly different. At the end, he gives each of us a flat, lightweight leather satchel with thin shoulder straps. It can be worn like a backpack or repositioned to hang diagonally across our chests.

 “Time is moving on,” Gunther says, “and change is in the air. Pack your bags, keep them near you. Have a weapon handy at all times.”

We all feel the truth to his words. Especially now that Owen’s Shifting. For some reason, that makes everything feel imminent and we go ahead and prepare. We can’t load a tent or anything in there, but food, clothes, medical supplies, and extra weapons? They all fit without bulk or extra weight. The bag may look empty, but everything we need is right inside. In order to access it, we think about what we want, and it’s at our fingertips. Although the bags can’t magic up more of anything if we run out, our food will stay fresh for as long as it lasts.

This evening, when I head out with Topher, my bag is loaded with everything I think I could need in almost any scenario. I’ve also got a dagger and my slingshot, which is a favorite of mine. It’s quick to slip from my pocket, and ammo is simple to replace.

We’re going to one of the lakes located about an hour’s hike below Gunther’s property. During daylight, we’ve gone several times to practice rowing, but tonight’s plan is star navigation. Since we’re all a part of the same world, the constellations here are equivalent to those of the Shadow Layer. I’ve been memorizing the stars’ patterns and we’ve done some work in the forests, but Topher says water adds another element, so off we go.

We walk in companionable silence until I work up my nerve to ask him what I’ve been wondering. “What’s it like in there? Through the Barriers, I mean. Can you tell you’re somewhere different? Or is it just like here?”

Topher’s eyes take on a distant gleam as he gives the questions his full attention. “It is somewhere different, Sam-man. There’s a spark to the air, like an electrical current running close to the surface of everything. Not like you’re going to get shocked or anything. More like your skin can feel a tingle of anticipation, like a great potential has arrived. Awe-inspiring, breathtaking.

“It’s called the Shadow Layer because it shadows our own level of existence, not because it’s dark or wicked. Deeper down, where the base essence of the Sliders exists, it’s supposed to be lightless. People can’t subsist on that plane, so I suppose the thought could be mistaken. I’m too old to ever go back, but I’ll never forget it exists.”

His face lights with enthusiasm. “I can’t ever enter again, but I can feel the edge of the Barriers. Let’s get the boat, and have you do your bit. Then I’ll see if I can guide you to the Boundary. It should be safe since we won’t be going through it; we’ll stay on this side. Some of the feeling of that layer might be there for you.”

I’ve been through the Barriers of the Training Grounds. All that fog and not being able to breathe come to mind, and I wonder if this will be different. I also wonder if it’s wise. I follow Topher anyway. He’s my teacher; he’s got to know what he’s doing.

It’s dark by the time we reach Gunther’s dock. Stars unblocked by city lights seem to swirl in the sky; the sliver of moon is starting to show above the tree tops. There’s a lazy spring breeze carrying the smell of trees and soil along with the sound of chirping crickets. Ahead of us comes the murmur of lapping water and the soft thud of a boat hitting the dockside.

We’re going to be camping on a scrap of island some ways out, which I’ve never been to before. Enter my navigational skills: Topher will give me directions via the stars and I’ll need to paddle us through the dark to find it. Being here is a major flashback to our summer visits with Gunther, when Dad would take us down to this same lake for over-nighters on the beach. Though the memory makes me sad, it somehow also gives me a stronger connection to him. I wish Jamie and Livs were with me; they’d get what I mean.

We climb into the little rowboat and it jumps and bobs until Topher and I figure out our balance points. Yeah, I did say it’s small. We row in silence for a couple minutes, not in a planned direction, simply aiming away from the shore. Far enough out, we pull in our oars and let ourselves drift. Topher asks me to point out and name every constellation I can see, and quizzes me about directional points, the time of year, and what differences I would see, say, in January.

“I wouldn’t see anything. It’d be way too flippin’ cold to hang out at the lake in middle of the night, in January. I’d be inside sleeping. Where it’s warm.”

He does not appreciate my response.

Giving in, I label all the constellations and he seems impressed with my memorization skills. I’ve always been good at recalling what I read or what I’m shown. Jamie’s smart ’cause his brain actually thinks up these insane ideas on its own and then he figures out how to apply them; Livs is brainy, but she has to study and try and make her own conclusions based on things only to be found in Olivia World. Somehow it works; teachers have always liked her.

Once I find the island, we carry our gear to a clearing and set up camp. When we’re done, Topher turns to me and asks, “You ready to try?”

“Sure,” I shrug, still harboring some doubts. He tells me to relax and clear my mind, like we’re going to meditate. My heart rate slows down; my breathing becomes deep, as if I’m on the verge of sleep, and I let my body call to the Barriers like Topher had taught me. I keep my eyes open to stay grounded, but as soon as I see the mist particles, I’m lost. Every inch of my body feels like it’s being compressed and coming apart at the same time and pulsating tickles crawl over my skin. In the back of my brain, I hear someone yelling. Then my head explodes.