Page 26

Wave Riding Chaos

Elite: Alice

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I wait for Master Azul to leave first and then eventually Billie and I will go. It’s too bad we aren’t going to Wave Riding Season under better circumstances, but at least we’ll see a Superior.

We sit in the infirmary in Evangeline’s room as she sleeps more soundly. Instead of lying on her back like some corpse, her body has shifted a few times on her side while she tucks her hands under her pillow. The nurses are optimistic, but I’m not.

It’s not enough. I need to see her awake again.

“What time we heading out again?” Billie asks. She’s cozying up in one corner of the room watching a video with her phone in one hand and eating a breakfast burrito in the other. Her blond tangled strands are roughly combed back into a massive ponytail.

“Maybe in like, ten minutes? That okay with you?”

She takes a large bite and muffles, “Yeah!”

I step out and trudge into the outdated waiting area with bad, faded brown carpet and rusted metal chairs waiting for the perfect butt to sit before they break. Master Azul promised countless times we’d renovate this area because it’s so awful that members’ families don’t come to visit anymore. I don’t see that happening any time soon since we’re losing money to pay for the island’s repairs.

The old TV hooked to the corner of the waiting room barely hangs on with its jumpy, static screen, trying its best to display the news. A few monarchs come on display, expressing their condolences to Garnetizens, and offering to create a disaster relief fund. This helps Elite so we don’t go completely broke and lose our jobs, but it’s still annoying because I didn’t have malicious intent, nor knew what I was even doing.

Billie saunters into the waiting room as I continue craning my neck to stare at the screen, anxiety creeping up my spine.

“Still nervous about going outside?” she asks, scratching her cheek before crossing her arms. Her Elite jacket has a yellow stain from the mustard she must’ve spilled when eating.

“Yeah. People are taking legal action against me. I don’t blame them.”

“Yikes. What’ll happen if it gets to that point?” she mumbles.

I grab the remote to mute the TV.

“I dunno, but I think the lawsuits would normally go to the courts. King Remington would appoint jurors and lawyers for all parties involved, but he couldn’t be the judge for my case because the incident took place on his island. He must appoint a different monarch to be part of the trial. This applies to all of them.”

A member in pajamas with crutches swings past us toward the infirmary as another one comes out with a box of bandage wraps, humming to himself. Billie sinks into one of the rickety metal chairs, propping her elbows on her knees and slouching.

I sigh. “I heard King Evan hates those meetings because everyone tries to offer suggestions for improving Sapphire Island. It’s a crap show over there thanks to his poor leadership.”

A third nasally voice comes into the hallway from the lobby.

“How cute.” Robert waltzes over to us. He’s wearing sandals with his socks still on and that’s probably the foulest crime I’ve ever seen someone commit. Not to mention he’s wearing a white dress shirt under his Elite jacket that’s unbuttoned halfway to expose his grizzly chest hair. He locks eyes with us and frowns with his permanent resting disgusted face. “Hello, kiddies.”

Billie rolls her eyes. “Sup, Bob?”

I nudge her with my elbow.

He surveys us dubiously. I want to yank his man-bun, but I don’t need any more trouble.

“You look rather well, Alice. How’s the public feeling about you?” he asks, smirking.

This time Billie nudges me when I inhale sharply. “They hate me, as expected.”

“Gosh, I wish I could help; I have sooo much money that I could just buy your reputation back,” Robert offers with a quick stroke on his dry goatee. “Of course, you’d need to pay me back, and there is an interest rate. Billie, I can pay for you to get a makeover if you’d like. Ya know, to look as appealing as your beautiful sister. Maybe then you could find a nice guy.”

Billie’s lips twitch into a goofy smile. “Who said I wanted to find a guy ?”

“Oh!” Robert crosses his arms, still stroking his goatee. “I can give you tips on how to pick up all types of lovely ladies! But still, you could do with a slight upgrade.”

Patches of Billie’s skin alter into that familiar scaly, snake pattern, her smile spreading eerily wider by the second. We do not need an unhinged Billie right now.

“Hmm, how ‘bout you use that money to evict your disgusting demon?” she suggests.

“Excuse me?” Robert sneers. “Why are you so barbaric when all I was trying to do was be nice? Is this what happens when you’re neglected because your family hates you?”

Billie hisses, her tongue now yellow and split into two. “Take your money, shove up your ass, or pay to grow an actual mustache and not that crappy peach fuzz of yours!”

Blond hair strands form into braids, but I touch Billie’s shoulder before they take full shape. Her cold, scaly skin rolls underneath as she’s caught between her transformation and wrath. Robert’s scowl carves deeper into his face as he softly touches under his nose quickly before rolling his eyes.

“Hmph, freaks!” he mutters, trotting away, but Rachel is already waiting in his path with her arms crossed and a heavy glare that weighs on her full lips into a pout. “Oh, baby! H-Hi, I thought we were meeting at the—”

“Shut it. I came to see Evangeline, and of course, I have to witness your awful alter ego again.” Rachel grabs his shoulder, digging her long nails into his jacket. Robert jumps and nods quickly, turning to face us.

“S-Sorry, ladies,” he utters before shying behind Rachel. She whips her head back to continue her glare until he shrinks into the dark, narrow hall, almost out of eyesight.

Billie’s shoulders drop as her anger deflates, her skin back to normal now. A quiet hiss dies down, but the source of the sound is unknown unless it’s coming from her hair where the snakes were ready to take shape.

Rachel sticks her hip out and places her hand on it. “I’m sorry. I’m just... so exhausted. This demon surfaces more and more these days.”

“Still haven’t found anything that could help him?” I ask.

“No, we’ve prayed to the Superiors countless times with no answers. It’s refreshing when the real him comes through,” she explains, waving her hand dismissively. “Not making excuses, but whatever. Going to Wave Riding Season today?”

“Yeah, but Azul doesn’t know. It’s supposed to be you and her keeping watching of the area,” I explain. Rachel tilts her head. “I’m only going because I’m suspicious Mildred may be up to something while she’s there.”

“Gotcha. Well, I’ll look the other way if I see you and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” Her eyes glow vibrantly in sync with the spiky swirls that form into her Trace Mark against her silky skin. “A little danger never scared me.”

M ildred should be expecting us, all part of the plan. As long as we act the part.

Rachel left to meet up with Azul and texted us when they were at Central Square, so Billie and I can get a move on it.

The forty-minute bus ride to even stop within two miles of Central Square is exhausting because traffic is choked, pedestrians are everywhere, and detours are wild because of the streets I destroyed. The dirty looks the whole ride is a nice warm reminder of my recklessness, along with this cute ankle bracelet.

Despite the world dying, the sun has managed to roast us one last time before summer ends. Sweat drips down my back crack as we shuffle through the wading crowd all herding toward Central Square. The swelling around my ankle pushes against the monitor until I trip into a limp the rest of the way.

“Almost there,” Billie murmurs, popping in a stick of gum.

“Why the hell is it so hot?” I grunt.

Billie scoffs but chokes on her gum. She spits it out and tries to recover with a sassy imaginary hair flip since hers is currently knotted in a bun. “This kinda heat is nothing! Totally fine!”

I hold onto Billie as someone pops off confetti while we’re moving in this massive group, stopping every so often at an intersection to cross. Horns are honking all down the street for various reasons: a taxi driver signaling someone that they’ve arrived. An angry driver with massive road rage blaring their horn when a kid abruptly runs on the crosswalk. Someone honks when the light turns green but the car in front of them doesn’t move—it’s such a mess; I hate the island during this time of year. Can’t believe despite the world dying, people still aren’t taking it easy and conserving. We don’t deserve Zeala.

The rest of the walk is a long stretch that usually functions as a bike path, but it’s flooded with walkers who parked five blocks away to get a spot and see the opening with Water Superior Wyatt there. We reach the arch bridge which brings Central Square into full view.

Rachel is waiting by the bridge, arms crossed and grinning.

“H-Hey!” Billie says. “Where’s Azul?”

“Further up ahead; I told her I wanted to watch the traffic here to see if I notice anything strange.” Rachel jerks her head toward the bridge. She joins us on the walk over the canal, but already looks uneasy, scratching her arm. “Huh, now something doesn’t feel right.”

We step off the bridge and continue melting into the herds of people as bright-red banners of Garnet Island flags line up across the whole venue.

“That’s why we’re here,” I reply. Billie links her arm with mine as we’re weaving through everyone. It’s hot, crowded, and smells of must mixed with tea no matter where I turn. “Let’s spread out and see if we can find anyone with A’s carved on their hands.”

Even with the heat, Rachel’s arms are littered with goosebumps as she tries to rub them away. She bites her lip and nods.

“Sounds... good,” she says. “Central Square reeks of danger.”

I look up the large podium and that guy from Remington’s estate, Roon is in the middle of a speech we walked into. Most people are looking up, nodding, praying, whispering, or shouting in agreement with his statements as he calls for the riders to mount their dragons. Some have started passing around cups of tea to each other with slight bows of gratitude. I spot Azul from afar, but duck away and try to hide behind people in case she looks in my direction. The damage is done, but I don’t want to be spotted just yet.

Water Superior Wyatt is here, but I have no interest in meeting him. I’m sure the Superiors hate me.

The group is scattered far now, each at different sections of Central Square, inspecting their surroundings for anything unusual. I notice someone wearing a hat and keeping their head down by the fruit stand, but by the time I reach them, they hastily move onto another area. I stay positioned at the stand since no one is trying to buy anything. My heart pulsates in my chest, ready for impending doom to surface through the cracks of these people’s found happiness. A few purposely bang into my shoulder as they pass by. Other citizens scowl at me and call me obscene names under their breaths. One child has been frowning at me since I got here.

My reputation is ruined, so I have to roll with the punches.

One odd thing is... where’s King Remington? Where’s Mildred?

Rachel is rushing through the bodies with eyes glowing so red that when she waves her arms in the air, her Trace Mark glows the same. Her goosebumps look like hives now, all over her arms, her neck, even her face. She’s having a major breakout.

“Alice!”

I tear my eyes away from Rachel to find the voice. Was that Rio?

Gunshots echo sharply before an ill-timed reaction of screams and people moving in a cluster. The lady who was overseeing the fruit stand knocked all her fruit bowls over and booked it toward the bridge.

I push through citizens to heal the ones fallen over and bleeding with my shield surrounding us, so people bounce off somewhere else instead of trying to run us over. Cups of tea explode everywhere in scalding steam as people scream from burns and hysteria. I skip through the crowd and find an elderly man with a gash in his head slumped against the fountain. He barely looks conscious, but I still heal the wound and shout for someone to help him off the bridge. I look up and make eye contact with Azul, her face shows nothing but worry, but we nod in acknowledgement at each other as she continues ushering people onto the bridge. I make it through a few more people before that familiar anxious creep wiggles up my spine.

Skylar’s presence shivers within me as I turn in time, whipping my dagger out to slash the Guard and kick her assault rifle out of her hands. The Guard falters and lunges for me, but I grab her arms when she grabs me and twist myself to toss her in the fountain. My lower back screams as I gather myself to find my friends okay and defend the citizens these Guards have turned against. The one I threw in the fountain has the red A on her hand.

A flash of blue catches my eye for me to concentrate on the movement of the runner heading toward the bridge. She’s short enough to lose in this kind of crowd, but her aura is brilliant enough to find her no matter how many times someone looks away.

“Fae,” I whisper, realizing it’s her. “FAE!”

I shove through people to catch up, but she’s fast. Sliding under people’s legs, hopping over shoulders, and slipping through narrow spaces. All the screaming drowns out my voice every time I call her name, and my ears ache from the high volume of distress coming from everyone. A teenager is puking blood on the bridge, but I don’t have time to stop and help her; I need to get to Fae.

Halfway through the bridge, I stop short and look back at Central Square. Amongst the fighting and petrifying, Billie scans the area until her snake eyes calm down into a blue hue enough to meet mine. We give a parting nod before I turn back and sprint across the rest of the bridge.

More people pour into the streets, halting traffic in a chaotic horn-blaring-wheels-screeching-from-heavy-braking style. The gunfire hasn’t happened since Central Square, but everyone is distressed beyond reasoning at this point. More Guards enter the scene which drives the civilians wild as they wail and change the directions they’re running in. Even if these are the good people who’re trying to control the situation, no one will know or understand because of the corrupted ones Mildred has blended with the others.

I keep close to the buildings and avoid the streets or open areas to maneuver through. I try to keep up with the bright blue marker that I know is Fae running, ducking, and running again but I have to tango through this mess too. A man grabs my bare ankle with bloody hands, his legs look limp and twisted in the wrong way.

“Pl-please...” he whimpers. “I fell while running and then... and then—”

“Shh, I can help, just relax.” I crouch beside him and turn his body over gently so he’s sitting on his butt. His legs roll over with him but stiffly. I don’t know how bad his legs are, but if he was trampled to the point where they twisted, I don’t have much hope.

I can’t heal broken bones, but I can ease the pain.

I ’ve lost my trail of Fae, but I continue in the same direction down the main street until I reach the highway or a road branching off toward a botanical garden and forest. The further I travel from Central Square, the quieter it gets. The shops closed once the pandemonium started, and the news station vans came flying down the street for media coverage. I stay on the sidewalk and realize my phone is buzzing. I left Billie, Azul, and Rachel, but I’m hoping they’ll be able to help get the public together since the Guards can’t. This is how Elite can restore its reputation, if they don’t blame me for cursing the event.

I sprint toward the botanical garden, dry heaving in my throat and my ankle throbbing from the tightness of the monitor. This has to be at least three miles from Central Square, no way anyone would be in the park, but I’m hoping Fae will. I saw her. I know that hair. Very few people have that color, so I’m praying it’s her.

Rio was also at Central Square, but I don’t know where. I heard his voice right before the gunshots started. I... hope he’s okay, too. I’m not done bickering with that idiot yet.

I bypass the garden path and admission building and divert to the towering forest. The trees quake in worry as I dive in, eyes strained and alert after a long day. Being alone sucks; this creeping feeling slithers up my body because it’s exposed if someone is here. I always have Skylar, but the nagging suspicion is potent in my cloudy head.

The foliage in this forest is rotting in sporadic areas while a blooming canopy above me crumbles as twisted black leaves sink to the ground. I approach the clearing, unsure of how far I’ve gone. The forest reminds me of the one by Elite—half dead, half alive and struggling to thrive. My ankle monitor feels extra tight, a subtle reminder of staying put on this island.

Leaves crunching and twigs snapping alert my ears as I brace myself. Hairs rise on the back of my neck as Skylar’s anticipation flows through me. Someone else is here. It may not be Fae though.

What if I’m too late?

A thin tree shudders with a squirrel leaping off and scurrying up another tree next to it. The screams from the event’s mayhem are distant but persistent. So many people were hurt and even killed. I couldn’t save them all.

That’s why I have to stop Mildred, no matter what it takes.