Earth Thirst (The Arcadian Conflict) - By Mark Teppo Page 0,44

We were supposed to lose someone on the processing boat, but we didn't. Then Nigel went out of his head and things got messy. They've been waiting ever since, hoping that one of us—or another Arcadian—would come and investigate what happened to the crew of the Liberty.”

“What about the others?” he asks. “Talus and Phoebe? They were on the Cetacean Liberty, weren't they? It was just you and Nigel who were on the harpoon boats.”

“We were,” I say. “I don't know what happened to the other two. I'm assuming they didn't get snatched because why else would Secutores be hanging around?”

“Unless it's you they wanted.”

I shake my head, rejecting that idea. I'm not that important. “That's too complicated,” I say. “Keep it simple. They're ex-military. They know any mission gets astronomically more likely to be fucked up the more moving parts.”

“So, any Arcadian then,” he says.

“Probably, but where would the others go? We were out in the middle of the Southern Ocean. Australia is the closest land mass.”

“It's not the best destination,” he says. “Especially if you're damaged.”

“Who?” I ask. “You think Nigel took his boat somewhere?”

“If you were him—body burned, poison in your system, half out of your mind with shock and pain—where would you go?”

“Back to Mother.”

“And if you couldn't make it that far?”

I exhale slowly. “Some place safe,” I say. “Some place where the soil was good.” I shake my head, knowing the place he's thinking about. “The temple isn't there anymore. It's been gone for more than a hundred years.”

“It's still there,” Callis says. “The soil is still good, even if all the trees are gone. Even if there is no steward.”

“You think he's gone to Rapa Nui,” I say.

“Wouldn't you?”

“I don't know,” I say, which is only partially true. My legs are still a mess, and my back is a solid slab of scarred flesh. If I had received as big a dose as Nigel, I'd want good soil too. The temple on Rapa Nui—Easter Island—has been abandoned for a long time, but he's right. The soil is better there than almost anywhere else. “Yeah, okay,” I relent. “I'd consider it.”

“Get out of Australia,” Callis says. “Follow the money. Find the others.”

“What about the reporter?” I ask.

“What about her?”

“The last time we talked, you said I should find her. And now you're telling me that I should find the others.”

The line is quiet for a moment. “Well,” he says, “you found her, didn't you?”

My hand tightens on the phone and I don't say anything.

Callis chuckles lightly. “I know you, Silas. I would have done the same. Don't let her get under your skin. Find the others. Let her follow the money. She's good at that.”

* * *

Mere is still asleep when I return, though she has rolled onto her back and tangled herself in the sheet. One of her legs sticks out, and I pull her toes gently until she starts to wake. She stretches languidly, unaware that I can see perfectly well in the dim light spilling into the room from the partially open curtains.

I click on the lamp sitting on the side table, and the light chases away the thoughts starting to form in my head.

“What is it?” she asks as she sits up, pushing her hair back from her face. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.”

She glances around the room, still waking up. Still wondering what she's missed in the last few hours. “What time is it?”

“There's been a fire at Eden Park,” I say.

Mere stares at me. “No, that's not—” she starts.

I toss my phone onto the bed. “Call the number in the log. The man who will answer the phone is Ralph Abernathy. He's a reporter for The Independent. He's on the story. He also covered the Cetacean Liberty fire.”

Her face hardens, a mask meant to hide the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “But. Why?”

“I don't know,” I tell her. “Talk to Ralph.” I stand up and walk toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

She hadn't picked up the phone. It lies there on the tousled sheets like a black blot, a stain that no amount of bleach could get out.

“I need to find… transportation,” I tell her.

And, if my suspicions are correct, I will be the last person she wants around when Ralph tells her who died in the fire.

She asked me to save them, and I refused. It won't matter that Secutores kidnapped the survivors from the Liberty or that they started the fire. I didn't save them when