Heart of the Storm by Michael Buckley
“I said you were the prime, which is a responsibility to lead. You cannot lead if you are not present.”
I looked out at “my empire.” They were seventy strong—no, sixty-eight after I fed two of them to the sharks. Even if I had wanted this responsibility I had to admit how pathetic it seemed. Sixty-eight individuals do not make an empire. You could get more people on the Wonder Wheel.
“I’m going home,” I said. “You can’t follow me.”
“You will need us in your war with the Tardigrade.”
“Tardigrade?”
“Those that live inside the Great Abyss. They have declared war on us all. You heard their plans. They want to destroy anyone who is disconnected from their hive mind. Only the two of us are safe from the slaughter. We will have to fight them.”
“I haven’t even graduated from high school,” I shouted into the sky. “I can’t lead a war, and with what army, Husk? We should run from this—”
“Forgive me for contradicting you, Your Majesty—”
“Oh, don’t give me that Your Majesty crap.”
“Running is not an option. We will go to your people and rally them. They must be prepared to defend the surface world. It would be wise of us to assemble the remaining Alpha who live among them as well.”
“Husk, you don’t get it. I can’t rally my people. I’m the most hated person on the planet. No one is going to listen to me. They’re going to shoot me. What am I supposed to say to them? Hey, everybody, we need to work together, oh, and here’s my little army of monsters who were killing and eating people a few months ago, but that’s just water under the bridge.”
Husk bristled. “Only those who visited the Great Abyss many times went mad enough to eat flesh.”
“You went in.”
“Twice, once to save your life,” he said. “Not exactly something a monster might do.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t kind of me, but you have to understand, to the rest of the world, you and I are monsters. Husk, you and your people should do exactly what I plan to do after I find my family and friends. Find some boring-ass place in the middle of nowhere and stay as far away from the beach as you possibly can.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, your plan is naive,” he said, his voice rising with anger. “The Tardigrade will march across your world until it is cleansed. There will be no boring-ass places in which to hide. They will slaughter your loved ones. You must know this. You can sense their plans as well as I can. We can’t turn our backs on the Alpha, or the billions of people on the surface. When your people see how former enemies can work together for a noble cause, they will be inspired to fight. When your blessing arrives—”
“There’s no blessing, Husk. It’s been three months.”
“I can smell the change occurring inside you.”
“Okay, that’s gross. Honestly, I think you’re smelling dead sharks,” I said.
“I believe it would be wise to rest here, Your Majesty. This storm will not last forever. We can rebuild our strength and fill our bellies, and then depart with you. In the meantime, perhaps you could teach my people the dance.”
“The dance?”
“Yes, the movements that you use to help calm your heartbeat. We have all observed the peacefulness it creates in you, and I have experienced the serenity now that you and I are linked. I believe it could be a great asset to all.”
“You want me to teach all of you yoga.”
Husk turned to the others, then back to me. “How do we begin?”
During the rare moments of peace that the weather granted, I did my best to show them what my mother taught me about the practice. It wasn’t easy for them. Being mindful was just not natural for these creatures. They didn’t know how to relax. Husk told me that their lives in the empire were so difficult, so oppressive, that even sleep was a luxury. Their lives were servitude and abuse. Relaxation was completely foreign. Even Husk struggled.
“Who invented this yoga?” he asked me one day, after braving the water for some of the numbing weeds he used on my wounds. He tied them to my back, easing days of agony.
“I don’t know. My mother never talked about its history. I think it comes from India, but different cultures have learned it and made it their own. Believe it or not, there’s a lot of fighting in the yoga world. Everyone thinks their version is the right one.”
“Your mother taught you these techniques?”
I nodded. “She is Sirena.”
“I know who she is,” he said. “She comes from a proud family. She was considered a great fighter among the empire. How did she gain this knowledge?”
“She took some classes when I was little. She loved it, but I think in the beginning she saw teaching it as an easy way for her to make a little extra money. My dad is a cop, and they don’t make a lot. She had a class on the beach a few times a week. It was really popular, but that could have been because she’s hot. There were a lot of dudes in that class.”
I laughed to myself. I could see how some of what I had said confused him, which made me laugh harder.
“It eases me,” he confessed.
“I don’t know if it’s helping the others.”
“They have learned a great deal from you. It is a great gift to them. I would not be surprised if they taught this yoga to their children.”
They aren’t going to have children if you decide to attack the Tardigrade, I thought to myself.
I lay on a flat part of the rocks and looked up at the night sky. It was a cool one, a lot like those Bex, Arcade, and I experienced driving across the country. When we weren’t arguing, we sprawled out on the hood of that day’s stolen car, feeling the fading heat of the engine radiating up through the metal, and we talked until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer. We were impatient and eager, determined to rescue our friends and family, and certain we’d destroy anyone who tried to stop us.
What happened to that Lyric Walker? What happened to the wild thing I used to be? She was so far behind me I could barely remember her at all. The impulsiveness, the hardheaded stubbornness, the eagerness to stand my ground—she seemed like a different person. I liked to think that I couldn’t avoid trouble, that it found me, but I was starting to think I’d been looking for drama. Now it didn’t seem so cute to charge headfirst. It got a lot of people hurt. Look where it got me.
Now Husk wanted me to be that girl all over again.
I turned on my side and gazed out at the horizon. There was a light out there that I assumed was a star at first glance. The universe was bright and flashy, but something about this particular light kept my attention. It was red, and yes . . . it blinked. Stars didn’t blink.
I stood up and strained my eyes, wondering if maybe it was a hallucination, like Shadow. It was sitting out there blinking at me. Hello. Hello. Hello. Suddenly, it was joined by another light, a white one that glowed brightly for several minutes and then vanished.
“It’s a boat,” I whispered. After a couple more minutes, I spotted the white light again. Now I was certain it was a boat, and probably only a few miles away. I didn’t really know, but something was out there, something that could take me home.
I looked back at “my people” slumbering in the night air. Husk was nearby, his lungs rattling with every breath. If I took them with me, they’d be slaughtered or, worse, taken to Trident to be chopped up and used in experiments. I couldn’t let that happen.
Husk is smart. He can lead these people. He should. You’re an outsider, I said to myself.
“Good luck,” I whispered to him, then crept to the island’s edge and slipped into the water. I let myself sink until my gills took over and my scales rose up to paint my shoulders. Webbing grew between my fingers. I pointed myself toward the light, and swam.
Chapter Eleven
NEARLY EVERYONE IS ASLEEP, BUT I CAN’T GET THERE. Maybe it’s too dark. I’m jumpy and flipping on lights. Maybe this day was too exhausting to sleep. When
I head toward the stairs. Katherine’s room will be nice, with that huge bed of hers, only I find Chloe asleep on the steps. I want to pick her up and carry her to a bed, but I’m sure the rest of my stitches will pop if I try. I’m forced to wake her.
“Will you read to me?” she says sleepily.
“Sure, but we have to keep it quiet,” I whisper.
“C’mon,” she says, and leads me down a flight of stairs to a huge finished basement I didn’t know existed. It’s what my grandpa would call a rumpus room, complete with a pullout couch, beanbag chairs, a chaise longue covered in a blanket, and a Ping-Pong table. There are kids in sleeping bags everywhere.
“Story time,” Chloe sings, and sleepy eyes open.
“You were supposed to be quiet,” I scold her. “Why are all of you down here? This house has, like, five bedrooms.”
“We like to be together,” Harrison says. His hair is sticking up in so many places I can’t help but smile.
Chloe puts a book into my hand—Superfudge by Judy Blume.
“I read this when I was in elementary school,” I announce, then find an empty beanbag and gingerly ease into it. Chloe sits next to me and rests her little head on my thigh.
The story is silly in the best ways. Some of the kids laugh, but most of the jokes fly right over the little ones’ heads. Chloe doesn’t care. My voice is a lazy river, and she’s in an inner tube, drifting along with the current. Eventually, her breathing slows and her eyes close. Harrison and Finn carry her to the chaise longue and tuck her in with a blanket.
“Stay with us?” Harrison begs.
I shrug. Katherine’s bedroom would be more comfortable, but right now it feels like a million miles away.
“Are we going to fight the same monsters?” Brady asks.
“No, I’m afraid they are all new monsters,” I say.
Finn shrugs and lays his head on his pillow. A second later, he’s passed out as well.
I nestle into my beanbag. It’s probably the best thing for my back. I sit watching the light from the upstairs hall shining down the steps. It’s enough to fight back a panic attack. To stay calm, I focus on the sound of children sleeping effortlessly all around me.
Get your rest. The war starts soon.
I close my eyes for just a moment, no more than a blink, really, until I feel someone sit down next to me. Shadow is waiting, and he smiles when I see him.
“Why are you here? What exactly is your purpose?” I’m annoyed with this dream.
“I’m here to answer questions,” he says. “And prepare you for the upgrade.”
“Yeah, still waiting on that upgrade you promised,” I snarl. “Three months late.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. Oh, wait! It’s one of those bogus powers little girls get in movies, you know, the kind where they learn the greatest magic of all is family, or friendship, or was in their hearts all along.”
He laughs. “I promise it’s real.”
“Can it help us win?” I ask.
The smile fades. “I hope so, or I’m out of a job. The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe? The real Shadow wasn’t so noncommittal.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Answers! Directions! Something that sounds like advice.”
“Lyric, I’m not your fairy godmother. You already know what needs to be done.”
“And that is?”
“Call your buddy. Tell him to bring his friends. You need all the help you can get.”
“And if I get him killed too?”
“He doesn’t have to come. Besides, everyone dies, Lyric, even you. There’s no twist ending. Everyone goes, no exceptions. A few people get to decide how that’s going to happen, though. If he wants to choose, who are you to stop him?”
“Most people want to put it off a little,” I say, lying back into the beanbag.
“They’re under an illusion that they get a say, Lyric.”
“You’re depressing as hell.”
“Fine, you want some advice? You’re worrying about your tiny little army, but you should start trusting in yourself.”
“So this is one of those movies after all,” I say.
“This is serious, Walker. They’re following you. Those things can hear your thoughts. They went to Panama. That vision you just had—looked an awful lot like Florida to me. This house will be next. Don’t you see your advantage?”
I sit up and stare him in the face.
“I can hear them, too,” I say.
“Someone wins a prize!” he says. “Now, it’s time to call him.”
I open my eyes, but I’m no longer in my beanbag chair. I’m standing on the beach in the cold night air. At first, I think it’s more of Shadow’s hallucinations, but it’s too uncomfortable. It’s real. It unnerves me to think I walked here in my sleep.
The water bites at my bare feet, and I feel the icy shock in my toes. I know why I’m here and what I have to do. Shadow is right. I need all the help I can get.
I close my eyes and call out to him. “Can you find me?” I call out to the ocean.
We are on our way.
When I get back to the house, I find Maggie sitting on the porch. She looks troubled.
“Where have you been? Your mom is freaking out,” she says. “You can’t do that to her. You don’t know what she’s been through.”
“I’m sorry. I . . . What’s wrong?”
“You have a call,” she says.
It takes me a second to understand what she’s saying.
“What?”
“C’mon.” She leads me back into the house. Bex and Riley are waiting for me in the kitchen. Their eyes are huge and white, like they’ve just seen a ghost.
“Where have you been?”
“I needed some air,” I lie. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone awake?”
Bex points to the closed laptop sitting on the counter in front of her.
“What the hell is going on?” my father says when he enters the room. He looks sleepy and confused.
“It started ringing about an hour ago,” Bex explains. “I didn’t really know what to do.”
“We ignored it for a while, but finally the curiosity was too much,” Riley says.
“Who is it?”
“He says he works for White Tower.”
“He? Is it Samuel?” I ask, shuddering from our last encounter, but hopeful he’s had a change of heart.
“No,” Bex says, then turns to face my father. “He’s some guy in a suit. He wants to talk to Lyric. I thought this computer was impossible to track.”
“I thought so, too,” he says. “We had five of them at the precinct. No one could trace them.”
I sit down on a stool next to the counter. “What does he want?”
Riley shrugs. “He didn’t say. I told him to screw himself, but he just keeps calling.”
I slowly open the laptop and cringe when a video screen becomes active. Inside it is a dark-skinned man with a black mustache and short, neatly coiffed hair. There are dark circles under his eyes that make the white parts glow like silver. He’s in some kind of office, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows behind him; subdued, milky art in white and gray; and industrial touches like the steel desk. For a minute, he doesn’t seem to know I’m looking at him.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He jumps in surprise, runs his hand through his hair, and licks his lips.
“Hello, Ms. Walker.”
I say nothing. The awkwardness seems to be dictating this conversation. He clears his throat and takes a quick sip out of a fancy glass.
“I am pleased to see you are well. The incident at the airport had many people worried.”
“Oh, I bet.”
“How did you track this computer?” my
“Oh, hello, Mr. Walker. Technically the computer is untraceable to everyone but the manufacturer.”
“And you manufactured it,” Riley groans.
He nods. “Military contract. We built a back door. You never know when you might need one.”
“What do you want?”
“Straight and to the point. Very well, my name is Thomas Johar. I am a member of the board of directors for White Tower. I have a business opportunity for you and your organization.”
“A what?” I stand up out of anger, and my chair tips back, clanking on the floor so loud it startles him.
“Please, Ms. Walker, I understand that you have no reason to trust my sincerity, but I promise you this is legitimate.”
“Yes, who can question the word of a White Tower employee? So you work for Bachman?” my father growls.
“Actually, she works for us, or rather, she did until a day ago. Her position has been terminated. We wish her luck with her future endeavors.”
“Oh, did the kidnapping attempt fail to impress?”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Bachman took the liberty to pursue many unauthorized . . . projects, so she has been relieved of her duties. Unfortunately, she managed to acquire the loyalty of a few employees in her short stay. Yesterday’s unpleasantness is just an example. She was always at odds with the company’s long-term plans, but we overlooked it until . . . But it’s all under control now. It was a mistake to hire her in the first place, a point I made strongly when Mr. Spangler was killed.”
Just hearing Spangler’s name drowns me in a flood of black memories.
“Great to hear. Thanks for calling,” I say as I reach up to close the laptop.
“Whoa! Whoa! Ms. Walker, all I ask is that you hear my offer,” Johar begs. He takes another swallow of his drink, swirls the glass so the ice cubes spin and crash against one another, then sets it down. “I understand how threatening this conversation must seem. I’ll get straight to the point. We want to help you with your plans.”
“My plans?”
“Yes. Freeing the Alpha citizens and preparing for the invasion, of course. We watch Ms. Conrad’s videos too.”