Darkhaven

For three days, my body felt like it was floating in space and my head was fuzzy. I could barely remember anything I was doing and often found myself standing in a room with no idea why I’d gone in there, or forgetting what class I had next only to realise it was the end of the school day. I vaguely wondered if Keraun’s messing with the antiserum had gone horribly wrong. When Flamebeard called on me in class, I had no idea what the question was until Cecelia pointed out that it was written on the whiteboard. She worried that my head injury was affecting my memory. I brushed off her concerns with excuses about a cold, which meant I had to stay home on Friday because I didn’t actually have one and, observant as Cecelia was, she would definitely notice the absence of sniffling.

It was just as well. I slept all the way through Friday. Dad roused me before he left to find out why I wasn’t getting up for school. Barely awake, I didn’t have to pretend too hard to be out of it. He regarded me for a moment, probably to confirm that I really was sick, then left me to my snoozing.

***

I woke late Saturday morning feeling more energetic than I ever had in my life. The floating feeling was gone. My body still felt light, but it was back to being solid and real. My head was clear. I squinted as I walked into the bathroom – the light seemed brighter than usual, every detail sharper – and studied my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same, more or less. Except I was pretty sure my teeth were whiter. They’d always been fairly straight. My body was still soft and unfit, but it seemed to be less puffy. And my skin was clear. I put makeup on anyway, the brush bristles swishing audibly over my skin, and went to the kitchen, messaging Cecelia and Zenna. I couldn’t see what Stephen’s fuss had been about. If this was the transformation, no one was going to notice.

Dad, back from his morning windsurfing, stood at the stove, poaching eggs. A loaf of sourdough sat on the counter. He flashed his broad Saturday-morning smile, intended to goad me into a grumpy not-a-morning-person retort. I shrugged at him, declined the offer of eggs and went to the pantry, staring at the shelves until I saw the cornflakes. I poured a bowl with a generous spoonful of sugar scattered over the top.

Dad’s forehead wrinkled. ‘You shouldn’t eat so much sugar. You’ll get pimples.’

I shovelled cornflakes in as I sat down, before they got too soggy. ‘That’s what foundation is for,’ I said through my mouthful. My crunching was too loud in my ears. I slowed my chewing. Maybe soggy would be less audible.

‘Are you going to the Shack today?’ Dad asked, sitting next to me at the table. West Beach Shack was where Cecelia, Zenna and I met every weekend – they made the best milkshakes. I nodded, still chewing slowly. I could hear Dad’s teeth tearing at the sourdough crust, and his side of bacon still sizzled. It was hard to think of words, with all this going on.

He gave me an odd look. ‘I’ll drop you off if you like. I have a meeting.’

‘Cool, thanks,’ I said, getting up and dumping the rest of the cornflakes in the bin. The chewing was too loud, and the cereal was going stale.

***

Dad dropped me outside the Shack, a busy cafe that pretended to be all rustic and straight out of a beach town but was totally hipster. Being on the corner of a major intersection didn’t help its chilled surfer vibe, and neither did being surrounded by other restaurants: Chinese, Indian, pizza, a bakery. Alex had better pizza near his place – a cosy Italian joint called Harrys – but the Indian here was particularly good.

Perth was doing its usual impersonation of winter, which meant a mild 19 degrees Celsius and sunny, so the beach, the road and the Shack were bustling. I walked into the cafe, squeezing past a pram that was parked across the doorway. Cecelia and Zenna, the latter today sporting purple tips in her hair, were already waiting.

I deliberated over the milkshake list. They’d added new flavours.

‘Just pick the first thing that jumps out,’ Cecelia advised. ‘It’s always the best choice.’

Salted banana toffee, then. Or quadruple chocolate overload. Or strawberry coconut swirl. In the end Zenna snatched my purse out of my hand and ordered for me.

She scrutinised me as we took our number to a table. ‘Have you been working out, Gabby?’

Cecelia and I laughed.

‘No, I mean it,’ she said. ‘What are you doing? You look slimmer, or something.’

‘I’m really not,’ I replied. I’d squeezed into my jeans this morning the same as every morning.

Cecelia leaned around to Zenna’s side of the table, pursing her lips. ‘Actually, her teeth look whiter.’

‘They definitely do,’ Zenna agreed. ‘Oh! Maybe she’s started flossing.’

Cecelia gave a mock gasp. ‘And she’s finally using the serum I gave her in her hair!’

‘I’m right here,’ I said. My head was starting to thud. A baby whimpered from the pram in the doorway, then burst into a cry. The coffee grinder whined and a toddler in a high chair hit her brother on the head with a toy dinosaur while he squealed.

Cecelia shook her head. ‘It can’t be our Gabby. This one is an impostor.’

Zenna nodded. They giggled until our milkshakes arrived.

I took a sip. ‘Ugh. The milk is sour.’

‘Surely not,’ Cecelia said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with it, Gabby,’ Zenna added, trying hers, then mine. I tried it again. It definitely tasted slightly off. I pushed it away and listened to my friends chattering about the weekend, trying to stay afloat in a sea of noise and bright light. A man smacked his lips at the table next to us and I clenched the sides of my chair to stop myself from upending our entire table in his direction. Zenna’s phone beeped – loud and jangly – and she leapt up. My head throbbed.

‘Gotta go, I’ve got my driving test. Wish me luck!’ Her eyes danced. To a chorus of good lucks, she dashed out, taking her milkshake with her.

Cecelia ran me through her entire English essay plan, which I nodded along to, then pushed her empty glass aside and turned to me.

‘So, what’s up with you? And don’t tell me it’s TISC –’

She was cut off by a screeching of brakes and a crash. People screamed. I glanced through the windows – a car had turned across a red light and run into another vehicle. The cafe was filled with scraping chairs and raised voices as everyone rushed to help or watch. I put my head in my hands, trying to block out the excessive noise, but the pummelling in my skull just got worse. Then the sirens started, and I could hear every dissonant note and pitch variation like it was right in front of me. Cecelia, who of course had advanced first-aid training, had already raced out. I grabbed my bag and shoved through the people, emerging into the blinding sunlight. The street was overexposed. I couldn’t make out any faces. I stumbled away, turning down the first alley I came to and huddling in a doorway, but it was no use. The sirens grew louder, and here the smell was overpowering: urine, rubbish bins and burnt oil from nearby kitchens.

I got to my feet and ran back to the main road, hurrying blindly away from the cacophony. The traffic was stopped in both directions, and I sprinted across the dual carriageway, car horns blaring around me, to the footpath that wound along the beach. I kept running until I reached a grassy park. My senses were a confused mess, and I could barely distinguish between sight or smell or sound. It was all just noise. I collapsed on the grass under a tree, hands pressed over my ears. It wasn’t enough to block out the waves smashing onto the compacted sand a hundred metres away, or the cars passing on the main road, or the runners pounding the footpath. I closed my eyes, clenching every muscle, locked in panic.

I sensed movement nearby.

Holding my breath, I squinted up at a tall, slender figure: Keraun. He knelt, leaning over me so his body shielded me from the sun.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, voice low and urgent.

I tried to think of words.

He placed a tentative hand on my shoulder. ‘Gabby?’

His touch made it worse as my body registered the weight of each of his fingertips through my jacket. Wind rattled the palm trees overhead, the sunlight was blinding, I could still taste sour milk and smell iodine and salt and stuff and I couldn’t sort one thing from the other. I felt like I might just disappear, lose myself forever in all the noise. But there might be someone who could help.

‘Get Stephen,’ I managed to choke out. Keraun moved, revealing the sun again. I raised my arms to block it, the jacket fabric rasping on my skin. Keraun pulled something out of his pocket, muttering to himself, but I didn’t pay attention. I tried to keep a grip on my fraying mind.

Keraun returned in a few moments or minutes or maybe even hours – I couldn’t keep hold of the time – and sat next to me, shielding me from the sun again. He didn’t say anything. Slowly, very slowly, the sensory overload lessened. After a while I started to shiver in my light jacket as the sun faded. Peeking out from under my arm, I saw a blank grey sky. The wind had dropped. I let my eyes stay open, nervous that doing so would trigger all the noise again, but grateful for the lack of blinding sunlight. Then I saw another figure approaching. Stephen.

Gently, they pulled me to my feet. Guilt simmered in my chest when I saw the annoyed pinch between Stephen’s eyes. Keraun would no doubt have filled him in on our deception to get him to come and rescue me. Ugh. Rescued.

‘I’m sorry, Stephen.’ It was a weak apology.

‘I understand,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

We made it to Stephen’s silver Corolla without further incident. I huddled, miserable, in the front seat and didn’t even protest when he asked for my phone, slipping it into a small black pouch and stowing it in the console.

‘How do you do it?’ I asked, after several minutes of travelling in tense silence.

Stephen looked grim. ‘Years of training. There are specific practices that help to hone and filter the senses. It’s part of the reason we don’t let Eventers just fend for themselves. This happens.’ He growled the last two words.

‘It was my idea,’ Keraun said. ‘Don’t blame her.’

Stephen flashed him a vicious look in the rear-view mirror. ‘Oh, I don’t.’

‘I asked for it,’ I said in a small voice.

‘Doesn’t matter. Your friend doesn’t know anything about our work and shouldn’t be meddling. I don’t even know how he got into Darkhaven. It’s not your fault,’ Stephen said. His mouth set into a thin line of silence.

I stared out the window, brooding, but also thankful for the tint that dimmed the light and the relative quiet of the car. Just the muffled engine and three people breathing.

We pulled up in the Darkhaven driveway, and Stephen went to open his door, but I put out a hand to stop him.

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I know I called you for help, but I’m not ready to make this decision. I’m not going in there if you aren’t going to let me out again.’

The edge in Stephen’s grey eyes softened. ‘You just experienced what happens, Gabby.’

‘I can’t leave my family thinking I’ve died,’ I said. ‘There has to be another way. I can get by until the end of the year. Then I can tell them I’m off to some interstate university or something. I’m not playing dead.’

Stephen gave me a long look, then nodded. ‘Okay. At the end of the year, we’ll work something out. But it will have nothing to do with the machinations of your friend.’ He gave the last word a nasty emphasis. Keraun bowed his head and slipped out of the car. I hurried out after him, reaching for his hand. He turned before I could touch it.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, ‘and thank you.’ He was still wearing his sunglasses, and I longed to take them off so I could see his eyes.

Keraun gave me a nod, then turned and walked back down the driveway. I wondered briefly how he was going to get home, wherever that was, but Stephen called from the doorway.

I turned and followed Stephen inside the concrete building. When I glanced back over my shoulder, Keraun had vanished.

***

We went to a different room this time, one that was more like a lounge, with slightly softer couches and a long window overlooking the enclosed bushland. I gratefully sank onto the couch that wasn’t occupied by Savah, who hadn’t moved upon our arrival. Stephen sat next to me.

‘What is happening to me?’ I asked.

‘Your transformation. Your genes are all flipping over to the best possible version of yourself, so everything that is already expressed is enhanced. That’s the issue you’re having with your senses. And there are a few things not observed in humans currently that now will be. You’ll live for much longer and heal rapidly from almost anything.’

He’d said all this last time, but somehow it hadn’t sunk in the way it did now. I hadn’t dared believe it. I ran my fingers over my knees, feeling the smooth skin through my jeans, no scabs or scars or twinges of pain despite their being shredded on the concrete path just a few days ago. The denim was coarse under my fingertips, each strand in the weave discernible. I could almost count the threads.

‘The sense stuff … I can hear so much, and it’s so loud. And bright. And the smells…’

Stephen smiled. ‘It’s overwhelming at first. But don’t worry, you’re a week in, it doesn’t get any worse than it is now.’

I groaned, but even that was too loud. ‘It’s unbearable.’

‘Like I said, there are techniques we can teach you. And the rest doesn’t really affect you straight away, especially as you’re so young. People will eventually notice that you don’t age normally.’

‘You said something about perception increasing last time I was here. What does that mean?’

‘What do you think it means?’ He gave me a pointed look, and I got the feeling it was a test.

‘Not just normal senses. More like intuition.’

Stephen nodded. ‘It’s a subtle skill, and you will need to learn to use it so it works for you. But I think you might have a gift for it.’

I nodded. I had always had a sense for things, like when Alex wasn’t telling the truth about his job, or if a teacher was going to be especially nasty that day and Zenna and I were better off skipping class.

Silence – which I was really learning to appreciate – stretched out.

‘I have to apologise to you, Gabby,’ Stephen finally said. ‘I had no idea you struggled with decisions the way you do, or that you’d had a particularly stressful day already in that regard. It was unfair of me to put you in the position I did.’

I was taken aback. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘No, but I made it harder than it had to be.’ He paused. ‘Your friend complicated things though. You’ve undergone your transformation and we can’t reverse it now. We really could use your help, you know.’ A trace of hopeful excitement crept into his voice. ‘I understand you are quite good with biology. An intuitive scientist would be something.’

To my utter embarrassment, tears formed, heating my eyes. Savah uncurled herself and jumped over to our couch, rubbing her face on my elbow.

‘I don’t know what I want to do,’ I said.

Stephen scratched the cat’s chin. ‘You don’t have to do anything yet. But it would be good if you didn’t make any more deals with your friend. You can come to me, you know.’

I stared at my lap for a moment. ‘He was only offering me another option.’ Some small part of me prickled at Stephen’s criticism of Keraun. Another part told me that was a risky thing to feel. I squashed both feelings.

Stephen sighed. ‘I wish you’d told me how you felt.’

Annoyance welled. Maybe it was a bit about Keraun, but there was more. I’d just met Stephen and his crew. Admittedly, I’d just met Keraun too. But, the little prickly protective voice said, I had met Keraun first. I looked Stephen in the eyes, my jaw set. ‘You wouldn’t have done anything differently. You gave me my options. Firmly.’

Stephen’s brow furrowed, eyes lost in some deep sadness. ‘You’re right.’ The words were almost a whisper.

I sat back and folded my arms. ‘Then I’m not sorry,’ I said, with more toughness than I felt. I let that hang until the silence became awkward. I really did need his help, but the pissed-off feeling was still bubbling under my skin. ‘So what happens next?’

Stephen ran a hand through his hair. ‘You can’t stay exposed in the public world. It’s too dangerous. Like I said, we are hunted by a Taskforce who want to remove all evidence that this program ever existed.’

‘I’m not disappearing. You promised I wouldn’t have to do that.’

He nodded, thoughtful. ‘If you come here for training and make sure you don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself, we can probably give you until the end of the year, all going well. That gives you a chance to sort things out with your family and friends.’

Sort things out. Friendly code for “say goodbye to all the people you love forever, who will soon believe you dead”. I bit back a huff. ‘When you say don’t draw attention to myself…’

Stephen smiled. ‘Don’t show off. Your memory is going to be a lot better. So don’t let your grades go crazy. And don’t go getting yourself injured in front of people.’

I nodded. I couldn’t imagine my grades going crazy – I never did any study anyway. But there was one more problem. A big one. I took a deep breath. ‘What about, you know, today? How do I stop that from happening again?’

‘We’ll coach you. I’ll set it up so it looks like you have a regular appointment with a maths tutor or something. No one will think anything of it with your exams coming up.’

I tried not to be stung by the idea of pretending to get maths tutoring – aside from photography, it was my weakest subject, but Stephen couldn’t know that – and sat back, feeling slightly more relaxed. The deal was as good as it was going to get. And saying goodbye at the end of the year … well, I would deal with that later. A lot could happen in five months.