The sunlight is even brighter than I had remembered—its warming touch more glorious. The dappled pattern of sun and shade dancing beneath the forest canopy is the most exotic thing I can imagine. I’m intoxicated with it—barely aware of the others, or of anything at all, except the subtle brush of air across my skin and the smell of decaying pine needles.
I breathe deeply. Despite my affection for the embrace of the earth, I’m suddenly convinced humans are not meant to live underground.
“Alright,” Gronk’s voice breaks the trance. “Don’t worry about a formation or anything, but do keep up. We don’t want to lose anyone out here.”
Chechen ads, “Keep your eyes open. While we don’t expect too much trouble, especially this close to the dome, we do run into some from time to time.” On that note, the two Ometeotl Guardsmen begin a steady march north toward the highest mountain peaks in the vicinity.
New Teotihuacan sits in a high mountain bowl. To the east and south the bowl pours downward into flat farmlands cleared from the forest. To the north the mountain rises to a set of three jagged peaks.
I’ve never been on this side of the shield dome, or seen the peaks from this close. I think of Zorrah and how much she would have wanted to see what we’re seeing. As we fall in line, I promise myself I’ll show it to her someday.
I avoid Olin for the first several minutes, choosing instead to soak in the moment. I feel the bounce of the forest floor beneath my bare feet. I taste the infinitely fine particles of pulverized earth as the hairs in my nose filter them from the air.
Eventually the freedom only intensifies the guilt I feel for leaving Zorrah in a box the size of a casket. If I’m already thinking of Zorrah, I know Olin is. Passing up the others, I walk beside my brother.
Maybe we can finally talk. In the light of day, my mind feels clearer—free from the oppressive threat of Toltec lurking in the shadows. Not wanting to say the wrong thing or feel pushy, I decide to let Olin initiate the conversation.
After a few minutes of silence, he does. “You realize it’s happening, don’t you?”
I keep an even, upbeat tone. “What’s happening?”
“The transformation Centavo warned us about.”
I cringe at the mention of the old man. While I can sometimes go weeks without thinking about him, there are times when I can’t shake him. Most haunting is his smell—pipe smoke and sweat coupled with the acrid stink of burnt hair. “And what transformation would that be?”
“You really can’t see it?” Olin asks.
“You wanna know what I see?”
“By all means, enlighten me.”
I sigh, “I see the transformation of chadzitzin to ometeotl. I see two kids growing into powerful immortals. We’re doing it, Olintl.”
He clucks his tongue. “You never see the cost, only the payoff.”
“You’re wrong.” I grit my teeth in effort to remain calm. “I know the cost better than anyone. I feel it every teocauli day. I dream of it every night. I pay the bill when nobody else will. How can you think I’m not aware of the cost of immortality?”
“Because you keep paying it.” Olin refuses to look at me.
I can’t tell for sure, but it looks like tears are forming in his eyes.
“You just admitted you’re obsessed with it. Day and night you martyr your humanity on the academy alter. Pretty soon, there won’t be anything left.”
“What would you have me do?” I throw up my hands. “Come this far just to give up? Settle for failure when we’re this close to fulfilling our dreams.”
“Your dreams, Calli. Or have you forgotten that as well?”
“I guess I had hoped time would change your mind.”
“I suppose my dreams have changed over the last several months,” Olin nods. “But you know what?” I brace myself for another accusation. He continues, “My dreams will never include exchanging a good life for a long one.”
I gawk at my brother. I can’t believe his arrogance. “Oh, and I suppose you own the definition of what makes life good? Or is it simply the shorter the better? And you think I’m the martyr?”
He looks into the forest.
I chew the inside of my cheek in an effort to calm myself. I had wanted to talk, to clear the air, not fight. Although it seems fighting is all we’ve done since the night I left Zorrah behind.
“Do you even remember the last time you laughed?” Olin surprises me with the question. “Really laughed?” When I don’t respond he continues, “Because I do. It was the night they took Zorrah.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I ask.
“Saying what?”
“That they took her?”
“You said so yourself—that Toltec tried to kill her because she was too dangerous.”
“Toltec tried to kill her.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow a sudden surge of anxiety. I’ve never referred to the mystery man out loud. The act of it sparks unwarranted paranoia. After a few seconds it passes. “That’s all we know. He might not even be a member of the academy administration.”
“Nonsense, of course he’s administration. But that’s not the point.”
“So all of this rambling has a point?”
Olin’s eye twitches. Just that easily, he’s made me feel guilty, and I’m afraid he’ll close up again. But he keeps talking, “I know you’re not telling me the whole truth. Something happened to you that night.”
“I already told you, Turon confronted me. He tried to convince me the regime was lying, that they were withholding a cure for the twitch. I didn’t believe him them. I don’t believe him now.” I’m exhausted of covering the same ground over and over.
Olin shakes his head. “There’s no reason for you to feel guilty about that. And it’s your guilt that’s fueling the transformation, Calli.”
“What transformation?” I raise my voice, completely exasperated with Olin’s circuitousness.
“You’re becoming a monster. You and Yetic together.”
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