Year E3029

Ocea

"I hate this place." Becca tripped over a rock, trying to keep tears from falling.

"I hate this forest." Her legs shook from the distance we had run.

"I never want to come back here," she whispered in between breaths while jogging.

The morning dawn crept deep into the hillside. Rain slowly dripped from the overhung trees, freezing my hair to my cheeks. Wyatt paused on top of a log, rotating to help Becca up and over.

Her high ponytail fell to her shoulders while the hairband barely held anything in place. Once on the other side of the log, she kept jogging, not looking back.

"I hate this place."

"I hate this forest."

"I never want to come back here," she whispered, thinking we couldn't hear her.

Wyatt jumped off the log as I climbed up. He chased after Becca, grabbing her wrist to slow her down. I glanced around, seeing the City of Rise on the other side of the river. The tower buildings of the rich side shadowed the town.

"Are we close?" Thomas asked, knowing our goal was to head to the junkyard on the city's edge.

I looked down at him, reaching my hand out. With his palm in mine, I pulled, helping him. Thomas quickly wrapped his hand around my waist, bringing our hips together. His forehead bumped into mine, forming a chuckle deep in his throat.

"Your dad would have separated us by now." Thomas's brown eyes connected with mine.

I swallowed thick saliva, watching the gold specks in his eyes dance. "Um—" I glance away, pointing. "Do you see the city?" I asked while he leaned his face closer to my cheek.

"Yeah," he said, then shifted his eyes to mine.

"Hey!" Wyatt yelled. "The junkyard should be over the wall next to the river, right?"

Wyatt waved his arms around, pointing toward the tall yellow brick wall. He leaned against a tree while Becca sat on a rock with her head in her hands. They were both waiting for us at the top of the hill.

I stepped back from Thomas, jumping off the log. "Yeah, I believe Stop told me there is an underwater passage into it."

"When did he tell you that?" Wyatt asked, picking off a leaf from a tree and playing with it.

"He told you too, but not directly." I stopped a couple of feet from Wyatt, looking up at him. "Remember the story about getting caught in Clair's bed?"

Wyatt pointed at me. "Fake story, but yes." He continued walking toward the river. "He escaped out from under the wall into the river."

"Fake story?" Thomas asked.

I glanced at him while he pulled at his curly hair, then brushed it back. He fell forward, catching himself with his palms on the dirt, but managed to stutter-step toward me.

"Yeah, Stopper has a way of telling us stories, and we have to guess which ones are real or fake." I kicked a rock, watching it skip across the grass into the river.

"Sounds like a fake person," Becca said with a slight attitude.

Wyatt turned, stopping in his tracks. "No, Stop is the most reliable friend out there. He does it intentionally, knowing we know some stories are fake."

"How do you know the full story isn't fake then?" Thomas asked.

I bent down, arching my back to see where the water meets the wall. "Because Stop does this thing when he lies."

Wyatt stepped into the water. "The story about sleeping with Clair—" he said, reaching his hand out to Becca. "Fake." Becca took his palm, stepping ankle-deep into the river.

"The part about escaping from under the wall—" I said, jumping into the water and swimming quickly to the hole in the wall. "Real."

I felt my fingers under the water along the brick wall. I cupped my palm on the edge, feeling the stone cut my skin. With leverage, I pulled myself underwater, shining my blue fire on the entrance. Liquid vines covered the hole, moving around like snakes ready to strike.

Swimming to the surface, I rubbed the water from my eyes. "River vines are covering the hole."

"Nothing a sharp edge can't fix," Wyatt responded, swimming to me.

I peeked over his shoulder, seeing Thomas still on land and Becca only knee-deep. Thomas saw me watching, straight-smiling my way. He palmed his face, taking a deep breath before diving into the river.

"Okay, I will go first," I said, lighting my palms. "My fire will guide the rest of you through."

Wyatt handed me a knife for the vines, then held up a second toward Thomas. "I'm going to be in the back, and Thomas will go second with a knife to get any vines Ocea left behind."

Thomas nodded his head, trying to stay afloat. He opened the knife, seeing the ridged edge. Water splashed into his mouth, causing him to spit out, hoping nothing snuck in.

Wyatt patted Thomas's shoulders. "We better go before something in the river sees us." Wyatt waved for Becca to jump in.

I spun around to face the wall, pulling my wet hair from my face. "Hope everyone knows how to hold a long breath," I said, inhaling the fresh air before diving under.

With a knife in one hand and my fire in the other, I swam to the hole in the wall. The river vines shivered at the shine of my fire but quickly tightened around each other, blocking our way through.

I placed my foot on a brick sticking out of the wall, using leverage to stab at the vegetation. The vine grabbed my wrist, tightening its grip on me. It pulled me toward it, banging my body on the bricks.

"Ahh," I yelled under the water while Thomas grabbed my shoulders.

He stabbed his knife into the vine on my wrist, twisting it until the devil plant let go. Time was against us as we held our breaths, waiting for the next monster to swim up. Thomas then began kicking at the plant, hoping for the best.

I pulled Thomas back, handing him my knife. The blue flame within me grew as I held my palms out, ready to scorch this asshole. I had little control over my fire, but the flame was enough to frighten the vine into hiding.

Thomas held up his hand while I connected my palm with his, giving him with a huge grin.

Quickly, I swam to the hole, using the brick to propel myself fast to the other side. I hovered with my fire, facing the others. Thomas swam through with his eyes on the surface. He sped to the top while Becca smoothly followed behind. Wyatt peeked through the hole, kicking his legs as his heavy boots weighed him down. Rolling my eyes, I wrapped my arms under his armpits, helping him to the top.

Floating on the surface, I gulped in a deep breath before swimming to the edge.

"Okay, I say we have ten minutes before the Men Of Suits show up," Wyatt informed us as we reached solid ground. "Maybe fifteen, given they are probably not watching these two trackers like a June bug."

Thomas chuckled at Wyatt's bug joke before shaking the water from his curly hair. I laid back on the wet dirt, trying to fill my lungs with air again. The orange cloud in the sky covered the Nus, ready to rain on us. My eyeline shifted to a broken-down truck. Rust formed around the hood as a tree grew inside the cab.

Rolling to my stomach, I perched myself on my elbows while water dripped down my face. Broken-down vehicles scattered most of the junkyard. An enormous pile of metal formed while a claw picked it up and shoved the debris into a fire, melting everything down.

I stood up slowly. "I'm going to go look for the rocklock address catalog." My primary goal. Find Dr. Coachman quickly.

Wyatt helped Becca from the ground. "Okay, I'll see if Dylan and Stop are here like they said they would be."

"I'll be following her," Thomas added, pointing at me.

"Expected." Wyatt smiled while raising his eyebrows.

"Meet back here in seven minutes." I took off running toward the office of the junkyard.

Thomas followed behind while I jumped onto a pile of rocks, seeing the neon sign flashing open on the front door. The family that ran the junkyard had a house on the other side, hiding behind trees and rocks. If Dylan and Stop were here, they would be there.

As we walked to the office, I ripped the end of my shirt, tying it to my head. The damp shirt stuck to my hair before I pulled it down over my eye to cover it, keeping my half-human identity to myself. I placed my dirty palms on the glass door, swinging it open. The bell insect wrapped around the handle woke up petrified.

"Fucking intruders!" the insect yelled. "Beep, beep, beep, intruders!"

"Shh." I had my fingers on the bug, brushing its dark green wings. The bell insect slowly closed its eyes, curling up in a ball.

Thomas chuckled behind me, cupping his palm over his mouth. I glared at him, but slowly grinned.

"Remember when you tried to teach my dad's bell bug the word fuck?" I whispered.

"Your mom thought it was hilarious," he replied, remembering.

I shook my head, glancing around the office. In the waiting area, chairs made of junk from outside sat with a leaning side table. The fan at the reception desk spun back and forth while flies flew around the bowl full of dead fruit.

"I'll check behind the desk for the catalog," I said, running around and digging into drawers.

Thomas meandered to the pile of hologram books and magazines in the corner. I knew a ton of Dr. Coachmans would be in the book of addresses, but visiting all of them wouldn't hurt. I pulled at a clipboard as hologram cards fell to the ground, scattering around.

"Hey, what are you doing?" a female voice had me jumping.

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Clair and her hand on her hip. She popped the gum in her mouth before flipping her hair back.

"Ocea," she said, rolling her eyes.

I stood straight, facing her. "Clair. Nice to see you."

"Likewise." She glanced at Thomas. "Who's the dude?"

"Oh, this is—" I said, but she waved her hand at me.

"I don't care. Why are you here?" Clair asked.

My shoulders dropped before I propped myself on the desk. "I'm here for one of those rocklock address catalogs."

She nodded, pointing at me. "Hold on," she said, leaving to the back of the office.

I glanced at Thomas, giving him an unsure expression. The Men Of Suits used Clair and her junkyard family. Tagged with a chip like the rest of the schmucks in the City of Rise, the family still worked with the Saviors when we needed help. We trusted them from afar, but they didn't know where the bunker was or anything about our missions.

Clair walked out with a small rock box in her hand. "Who are you looking for?"

I jumped off the desk, snagging the catalog from her. "None of your business."

"Coming here made it my business," she replied, trying to take the book, but I moved away.

"Okay, but don't go snitching to the stiffs." I clicked the button on the box, watching it extend in size. The small, colorful letters popped up, organizing everyone by last name.

She scuffed, annoyed at my response. "Those assholes killed one of my bell bugs, so now this one keeps getting scared when someone walks through."

I looked at the lonely bug on the door, then at her. "Dr. Coachman."

"The Dr. Coachman?" she asked with shock.

"Yeah." I glanced at her with confusion. "You know the man?"

"Duh," she expressed, pointing at a gold plaque with his name. "He's the inventor that keeps dumping his garbage here." She walked around the desk, pointing at the chairs and his sign.

I looked around, seeing the office full of the Doctor's garbage, and his name scattered.

"Inventor," I said with a smile, knowing he must be the creator of the chips. "Perfect." I rushed over to Clair with my hands on her biceps. "Where can I find him?"

Clair crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes glanced over my shoulder at the front entrance. Her mouth gaped open while her eyes widened.

"Fucking intruders!" the bell bug yelled. "Beep, beep, beep, intruder."

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