The Dead-Tossed Waves Read Free

underneath you or the image of your best friend throwing herself at the fence, her mouth open, teeth flashing, fingers grabbing—the cacophony of moans?
    I glance around me at the shadows thrown by the other rides, by the old buildings that have been stripped bare or crumbled in on themselves. In the darkness everything is frayed at the edges, making me scared of what could be hidden beyond my reach.
    “Think of all the people in the Dark City,” Mellie says, staring up at the stars. “So many possibilities, so many men.” Her voice is like a song and one of the boys—a redhead named Griffin—steps toward her, wraps his hands around hers and joins her.
    “We’re not enough?” He smiles and laughs, pulling her around faster, and she tilts her head back farther so that the light of the moon trails along her neck.
    I want to look away, feeling as if I’m watching some sort of intimate dance. But I can’t. I’ve heard people talk about the Dark City my whole life. Even though it’s over two weeks’ journey by foot up the coast, it’s the closest large city, one of the last fortified bastions from before the Return. It’s where the Protectorate, the loose confederate government, sits. But it never occurred to me to want to go there. Never occurred to me I’d ever be able to pay the heavy rents to stay.
    “Can you imagine living in those old buildings?” another girl says, walking toward where Mellie and Griffin are dancing. “I hear some of them are forty stories or more.” She tilts her chin to her chest so that she’s looking at Griffin through heavy-lidded eyes and he leaves Mellie to take this new girl in his arms, his grin wide. Their laughter’s almost too loud in the darkness.
    I’m so aware of Catcher standing next to me and I’m sure I must look as awkward as I feel. Mellie seems so graceful and free and beautiful and I wonder if Catcher wants to dance like the others are. If he wishes I were more like the other girls. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to spread my arms wide and twirl in the night, not worrying about the dark corners or the possibility of Mudo and death. I glance at where Cira leans her head close to one of Catcher’s friends, as if they’re oblivious to everything around us.
    I cross my arms over my chest and grip my elbows. My skin is thick with goose bumps.
    I can’t stop thinking about what it must have been like here when the Return hit. The panic. The confusion. The bodies packed so close in one space. The inability to escape. The moans.
    Always the moans.
    The group migrates closer to the coaster, their voices buzzing with rumors of the Dark City and plans for leaving Vista. I wait for Catcher to go with them, for me to be left to follow behind. But he lets them go until it’s just the two of us standing in their echoes.
    He brushes his hand over my arm and I swallow down a million words. The air mingles with the scent from his body; it fills my head and replaces my fear of being beyond the Barrier. There’s something about Mellie’s abandon that makes me want to be free as well.
    I want to be like her. I want to forget my constant worry and dance around the old amusement park rides, twirling with the faded animals on the carousel or spinning around in the chipped teacups.
    But I don’t. I just stand there and feel Catcher’s fingertips against my skin. It’s as if we’re the first ones to find this oldworld. To slip past everything that used to hold us tight. The air outside the Barrier seems different, seems to hum with possibility. And every time I draw a breath of it I feel as though I’m leaving behind who I used to be and becoming something else.
    I begin to think that maybe I’ve been wrong to fear the world outside the Barrier. That maybe I can be like the others my age and dream about making the trek to the Dark City. That maybe there’s more to the world than hiding away in such a dead-end town as Vista.
    Catcher opens his mouth to say