The Rift Frequency

I reach out my hand and offer it to him and he just looks at me. “You don’t get it. I will kill you. Put the pill away. I came here to make sure that you got back safe. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t.”

“But those two things can’t coexist. You can’t say you’ve got my back when I have to worry that you might stab me there. And I need your help if we’re going to find Ezra and get back home. So shut up and listen: You’re not going to kill me and I am never going to fight back. Ever. I will keep my uniform and armor on and curl up into a defensive position if I have to, but I will never hurt you again.”

Levi leaps up. It’s his turn to be mad. This is the Levi I recognize. “No. End of discussion.”

“Screw that! This isn’t a decision you just get to make. This is my life, too. Take it!” I say in a voice one decibel away from a shout, but anger isn’t the way. I have to learn, right now, not to be combative with Levi, which feels impossible but I have to try. I relax my posture. I lower my voice and cock my head to one side. Anger won’t work, but something else … “You are a lot of things, Levi, but I never took you for a coward.”

“I’m not a pussy, Ryn, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“You know, I don’t really like that word in this context. It makes me feel all feminist-y, which we could talk about. At length. Orrrrr you could just take the pill.”

Maddeningly, he ignores my attempt to lighten the mood. He just shakes his head, like a child refusing to take a bite of food. “I thought the pills would make it easier. Now that I see they don’t, we have to stop.”

I put my hand out again. Stay calm, stay calm. “Oh my God, you are a child! Did you really think this was going to be done in fifteen minutes? The pills work. You just have to let them. Right now your brain is making it impossible. You may trust me, but you don’t trust yourself. You have to let go of your guilt. You didn’t choose to be this way. This isn’t the real you. Come on. Let’s do this. Let’s trust each other.”

Levi glares at me.

I smile. “Come on.”

He rolls his eyes but actually laughs as he swipes the pill from my palm and pops it in his mouth. He takes a swig of water from his canteen.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” I answer sarcastically. “The awesome kind of crazy that they make movies about.”

“And modest. Clearly,” he says with a straight face. I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

Levi walks to pick up his tablet and then comes and sits down beside me. We wait in silence for the drug to kick in, the white sand surrounding us like outstretched arms. I’ve never been on a tropical vacation. Once a year I go with my family to Europe to visit my grandparents in Sweden. From there we’ve traveled to England and France. We went to Disneyland a couple of times, but nowhere like this. I’ve never been anywhere this remote, with actual palm trees and burnt-orange sunsets. This must be like Fiji on our Earth, or maybe Tahiti. Though, for all I know we could be in Battle Ground. This might be the only land mass for miles. I haven’t even seen a bird and that’s never a good sign.

When enough time has passed I look at Levi. “Ready?” I ask.

“As I’m ever going to be.” He reaches toward his tablet and I take it gently from his hands.

“I’m going to sing it. Just like your mom did to you. I’m not, like, a terrible singer, but I’m not exactly very good, either,” I warn.

“That’s probably better. I think it would actually irritate me if on top of everything you were a great singer, too.” He smiles. That is a major compliment coming from him, and I can’t help but flush a little bit at the implications of “on top of everything.” Clearing my throat as much to do something as to warm up, I bring up the lyrics.

I begin to sing.

It’s so interesting that his mom chose this song. I get that it’s a love song, but it’s also just about two people who sometimes feel like they have only each other. I know Levi’s dad left his mom when he was pretty young. I know because his younger sister, Flora, told me before I became a Citadel. I don’t think his dad is really in the picture. I think about the burden that must place on Levi, to take care of his mom and Flora and whatever comes flying out of the Rift at the same time. It’s so much for someone so young. I don’t think he’s close to his team like I am. God. He must be so lonely.

When I finish the song, I immediately start over. To my surprise, Levi starts singing along with me. I don’t need to say anything. He’s deep in this memory, I can just tell. Very slowly, I lean closer to him. I put my head on his shoulder.

This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra …

After a few seconds he slides his hand down my arm and takes my hand. I never dared try to initiate contact with Ezra when we did this, but Levi is not Ezra, and neither am I. We’re Citadels. We take risks normal people wouldn’t. I close my eyes. I know Levi could turn any moment, but I don’t think he will, not now. He’s getting it. He feels safe and so do I. When we finish the song, Levi doesn’t let go of my hand and I don’t move. The surf breaks with a dull clap on the sand in front of us. The waves are music, too. This is working. This is going to work. I am going to deprogram Levi and he can be like any other guy. He’ll be able to make out and have sex and not hurt anyone. I open my eyes and take my head off his shoulder. I look at him and he looks back and smiles at me in a way that’s so unlike his usual predatory grins. This smile is almost tender. Pretty soon he’ll be normal.

That thought instantly fills me with a feeling I cannot figure out. It’s not dread, but it feels similar. It’s not fear so much as anxiety. I look out toward the ocean, confused. Why would the prospect of fixing Levi leave me like this? With a feeling I can’t name?

CHAPTER 7 (#ulink_70fa1f53-35e7-5f66-954d-20b099c75e99)

Each trip through the Rift is becoming easier. I explained to Levi how I managed to basically fly within its tunnel and then use the gravity and light of the approaching Earth to get my bearings and end up on my feet instead of my ass. He seemed dubious, especially with the part about us not being grappled to each other, but in the end he trusted me and we both walked out of the Rift on our feet with only minor stumbles.

The first few seconds are always the tensest. Where will we end up? In the middle of a volcano? A freeway? Someplace where a Rift will be seen as a horror and we, by default, some sort of monsters? Thankfully, we find ourselves in the middle of yet another forest and when I listen, I can hear nothing but animals scurrying, and from somewhere above, the screech of a bird in flight.

I stare at the ground and then the trees. The terrain looks to be high mountain desert, the landscape I’ve seen and loved on family trips to central Oregon. It’s rocky and barren at my feet, but then the desert disappears as my gaze lifts upward to the ponderosas. From this vantage point it is clearly the Pacific Northwest.

But there’s something off.

I mentally scan all the trees, making a slow 360-degree sweep. I take a mental picture of each one and close my eyes, calling them up in my memory. I compare them side by side. The smell is right. Ponderosas are smoke and evergreen. I walk up to one and put my hand on its large, rough bark.

“They’re too perfect, right?” I ask Levi to back up my hunch. “And the placement—it’s meant to be chaotic, but there’s a pattern to it.”

Levi squints a little and cranes his neck back and forth. “Yeah. The branches of that one,” he gestures, meaning the one I’ve touched, “and the one eighteen feet away are almost identical except for two variables. That doesn’t happen in nature.”

“So, it’s man-made and the trees must have been cloned. What kind of an Earth is that, you think?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, but you must have clocked those buildings about six klicks away. We should go and check it out.”

Before I can answer we hear a noise, a buzzing, getting closer. Without saying anything further, we both grab our rifles and unclip them from our chest pads. We don’t have to wait long to see the source of the sound. It’s a drone, although it’s not like any drone I’ve ever seen. It’s a silver disk that’s just hovering with no discernable way of actually flying. I stare at it, almost transfixed. It gets closer, and then light pours out of a thin circular strip in its midsection. The light races up and down our bodies in a long blue flash.

Observing is one thing, this is obviously something else. I point my rifle at it and squeeze the trigger twice. The drone stops and drops almost immediately and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“That was either a really good idea or a really bad one,” I say before Levi can, because I know he’ll have a choice comment.

“I vote good one. That thing was scanning us.” I side-eye him because I think he just lobbed me a compliment. Levi walks over to the downed object and bends forward to have a better look.

“Don’t touch it, even with your foot,” I warn.

“Yeah, okay, Mom, are you sure? Because weird alien hovering silver disks that scan people never explode.”

“Noted. Thank you, Levi.” I leave him be for a couple of minutes. It’s not like I couldn’t make useful observations, but I’ve already annoyed him with my previous—and admittedly unnecessary—comments, and besides, my skill set in that area leans more toward noticing the tree thing. Levi’s mind is more mechanical. Which, if I’m being honest, kind of pisses me off a little bit because it feels so typically gender biased. Citadels don’t do gender bias. Except, it seems, in this case. Right here.

Annoying.

Levi straightens and walks back over to me, but before he can say anything we both hear another noise and this one is much louder. It is the sound of helicopter blades slicing through air.

“That came out of nowhere,” I say, taking hold of my rifle yet again. My pulse quickens. “It’s almost on top of us, so where the hell did it come from?” We both look up to the sky and sure enough, it’s a chopper. It is moving with alarming speed, and at two hundred yards away, it’s closing in fast. I can see its sleek design—black chrome and streamlined, with none of the bulky aerodynamics of helicopters on our Earth.

“We’re on a future Earth. A time line way more advanced than ours. We must be.” Although I don’t know why I bother to say it. Levi has eyes. I suppose saying it out loud makes it more real somehow, because right now I feel like we’re in a movie.

“We could run,” Levi suggests.

“No. Why waste the energy? If we’re going to have to fight, we’ll need it.” So both of us just stand there unmoving as the helicopter approaches. It’s noisy, but it’s not overwhelmingly loud. In a way, the propellers are almost soothing. They whoosh in the cloudless sky in precise measures. When the chopper is about fifty feet above us, the door slides open and two men emerge. They don’t jump, but rather float down gracefully as if being lowered by cables. Except there are no cables, and no pilot, either.

I just look at them and stare because, holy fuck, I literally don’t know what else to do. I look at Levi, and he’s just as dumbstruck. Finally, I have to say something.

“Did Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol just fly down from up there?”