Chapter 13
An aggravated noise of disgust roused Diantha from sleep, followed by a sulky, "Why don't you two just get a room?"
Behind her eyelids shone a brilliant red and she blinked them open only to slam them shut again. What?
"We did," said another voice, thick with tiredness. "You were in it too though and it dampened the mood."
The owner of the first voice didn't seem inclined to respond to that and instead she heard the sound of dragged footsteps begin to pace up and down. Where the hell was she? She swallowed hard against an incredibly dry mouth and almost gagged as her throat seemed to stick. Then the wall she leaned against moved and everything clicked back in place with an uneasy sort of clarity. The island. The creepy death cave. The wild Pokemon. Cynthia.
She forced her eyes open again, temporarily blinded by the rising Alolan sun and pulled herself away from her companion. It wasn't graceful, and she was sure the only thing that stopped her from falling backwards was Cynthia's steadying hands. Heat rose to her face and she let out a strange whimper that if asked about later she would vehemently deny making.
"Easy," said Cynthia. "You're okay."
"Is she though," said Todd, because yes. The boy they'd found last night in the jungle. Of course. Why wouldn't there have been a random child in the jungle? "Don't feel very okay right now."
"I'm fine," said Diantha. Her voice was scratchy and thin and she cleared her throat. "Sorry. Just give me a moment to wake up."
While her eyes continued to adjust to the light, she made a quick mental check of the rest of her. Her back and her rear end hurt terribly, which was not surprising given that she'd used her...friend - were they friends now? - as a human pillow for the night. She was absolutely parched, and was sure the other two must be too, so their first port of call should be to find water of some kind. From what she could tell the heavy blanket of heat had already evaporated the residual rainfall from yesterday, but maybe further in the jungle? She breathed in deeply through her nose and rubbed sleep away from her eyes.
Right. Time to face the day. That seemed a lot easier than facing Cynthia right that moment.
"You done waking up yet?" said Todd.
"Almost," said Diantha. She stretched her arms out in front of her and felt the tightness in her shoulders loosen.
Todd huffed and resumed his pacing, and Diantha had to force herself to look away from him before he told her off for staring. In the not-so-cold light of day the poor boy looked dreadful. The hair dye, which she'd spotted the night before, was even worse than she could have thought possible. His whole face was tinted a faint shade of blue, giving off the impression that he was a very chilly animated character. In other places it was smeared across his skin where he'd obviously tried to brush away rain, or sweat. His clothes were in tatters and the bare skin of his arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises. He'd need to get cleaned up or they'd become infected.
At least his clothes weren't white though, she thought, looking down at her own dirt-stained outfit with a grimace. When she got home she was throwing this entire ensemble into the furnace.
She swallowed again and had to bite back a cough.
"Okay," she said. "Now I'm awake." Though she very much wished she wasn't. Life in dreamland had been simpler.
"Great," said Todd. "Can we move now? I want to go home."
"That makes three of us," said Cynthia, who much like Todd and Diantha herself, wasn't looking her best with dark lines under her eyes and matted hair plastered to her head. "We should probably agree on a plan first though."
"A plan?" asked Diantha. "That doesn't sound like you."
Cynthia offered her a wry smile. "Well I've had a long night to think over the many stupid things I did yesterday."
"Like knocking me out of a tree," said Todd with a huff.
"Like knocking you out of a tree," Cynthia agreed. Todd glared at her, but had clearly been thrown off by the lack of argument. "I truly am sorry for that."
"Uh…" Todd said. He folded his arms over his chest. "Whatever."
An awkward silence followed, though Diantha barely noticed it over the sudden feeling of fondness she felt for both her travel companions. Cynthia had told her she would apologise and then she did, and it even sounded like she'd meant it. Sincerity was a rarity among the people she usually spent time with these days. When they escaped this place maybe the two of them could…
She shook her head to dispel the thought. Even if she wanted to spend more time with Cynthia, there had been no indication that the other woman felt the same. Why would she? More importantly, when would Diantha even find the time?
"What are we going to do then?" said Todd. "Can't you two just blast us out of here?"
"If only," said Cynthia, her mouth pressed into a grim line.
"We were told to leave our Pokemon back in the Welcome Centre," said Diantha.
There was a pause, and then judgement began to radiate from the boy. "And you just did it? I thought Champions were supposed to be smart!"
"Well we weren't expecting to be chased around the island by a group of territorial Kabuto," said Cynthia. She frowned. "I wish I could say that was my first foolish mistake of the day."
But Diantha's brain had stumbled and she couldn't pinpoint why. She mentally played back what Todd had just said and it clicked.
"Did you say 'Champions'? As in plural?"
As soon as she said it she wished she could have taken it back. The early morning brain fog had loosened her tongue. Cynthia looked at her, brows furrowed, and she looked down with embarrassment. So much had happened that it had completely slipped her mind that she had no idea who Cynthia actually was.
"Unless you've lost your job in the last twenty-four hours?"
"No," said Diantha. Fool, said a voice in her head that sounded much too close to her mother's for comfort. "I…" She hesitated, not quite sure how to frame her sentence in a way that wasn't offensive or didn't paint herself as a complete dolt.
She was saved the shame of failing to put together a coherent thought by Todd, who had stomped his way over to look at her with incredulity. Though being stared down by a prepubescent boy came with it's own brand of shame.
"She's the champion of the Sinnoh region," he said. "How can you not know that? Didn't you watch the Champions League tournament last year?"
No. She hadn't. In between juggling two careers she rarely got the time to watch things for pleasure rather than research. It was somewhere on the to-do list. Very far down the to-do list. Assuming she was still the Kalos champion she'd probably have slotted it in to view before her own debut at said tournament just so as not to go in blind.
Suddenly, the comments Steven and Cynthia had made in the car journey through the park yesterday made a lot more sense.
"I won," said Cynthia, and Diantha glanced over just in time to see her suppressing a smug smile.
"Only just. And only because Red wasn't there," said Todd.
Cynthia didn't gasp, but by the way her mouth dropped open it was a close thing. Diantha was just happy that the attention had moved away from herself.
"It was not only because Red wasn't there!"
"He beat you last time."
"That was five years ago. I'm stronger now."
"Red's probably stronger too."
"I-" Cynthia stopped abruptly and then let out a slow breath. "Why am I arguing?"
"I'm sure you'd do a very good job battling Red," said Diantha. It might even be true, though she was dubious. Red was a force of nature.
Cynthia shook her head and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "All right," she then said, with what looked like a tremendous amount of effort. "Moving on, because I'm not sure my pride can take another blow. As far as I can see, we have three options…"
When Steven was a child he'd witnessed more than one of his father's diatribes about Uncle Richard. All smarts and no intelligence. Doesn't consider the consequences of his actions. Flimflam merchant. The list went on. Steven's mother would sit patiently until his father ran out of colourful new metaphors and would remind him that none of this was news, and that Richard just needed to find his niche. Then his father would grumble that if he was any other employee then he'd have fired him years ago, and his mother would laugh and tell him that if they weren't related then he'd never have put him on the payroll in the first place. At the time Steven would just shake his head and then run off to explore, absolutely convinced that his father just couldn't stand the idea of his younger brother's freedom.
One conversation stuck in his mind from not long after his mother had first become ill. He'd been about ten at the time, and sitting on the staircase outside the kitchen listening to his parents talk. Their conversations had taken on a different energy then. He'd been too young to realise it at the time, but he now recognised it as quiet desperation hiding under a mask of feigned optimism.
Yet again his father had been complaining about Uncle Richard's appearance at a gala. It was so long ago now that Steven didn't remember the details.
"The worst part of the whole thing is that it worked," his father had said. "We have two new investors and I'm certain it had nothing at all to do with me. I prepared for that meeting for months."
His mother had laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. There was a pause, and Steven liked to imagine that his father had taken her hand.
"You catch more Cutieflies with honey," she'd said then, "but sometimes Richard's bullshit works too."
It was the first and last time he'd ever heard his mother swear.
That old memory came rushing back to him as his uncle slammed a map down on the conference room table with a twinkle in his red rimmed eyes and a forced smile on his face.
"I believe Jack and I have a solution to all our problems."
Bullshit was right, mother.
"Wonderful," said Peck, in the tone of a man who believed no such thing. "Do tell."
It was barely the crack of dawn and Steven had been woken from his restless slumber by a rough shake to his shoulder. It had taken his brain a moment to catch up with his body, and when it had his heart sunk. Nonetheless, he had dutifully followed his uncle through the compound to a room that already contained Peck and Jack. Kelly had slipped in the door behind him and nobody commented, which was for the best because he suspected she wouldn't have gone quietly if they'd tried to evict her from their planning session.
His ankle ached even more than it had last night, but the bandages Peck had wrapped around it once they'd got back to the Welcome Centre did seem to have helped. At the very least it could still hold his weight, which was as much as he could have hoped for considering how swollen it had already been by the time he'd pressed a half-melted ice pack to it.
Jack stepped forward and spoke with an unlit cigarette between his teeth and wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. "When the compound was first being built the workers needed enough power to run their floodlights and machinery. They built a maintenance shed with a couple of backup generators here." He pressed his finger to the map at what looked like an empty spot about a mile behind their current location.
"It's not much," said Richard, "but it should be enough to get the power up and running in the Pokemon storage unit and to get the phone lines operational again."
"It's not a flawless plan," said Jack. "And I wasn't brought onto the project until six months after that unit was shut down so I don't know what condition the generators will be." He pulled a face. "And it means someone will have to brave the park, because there's no direct road."
His uncle waved a hand, as though this information was inconsequential, while Steven was already starting to feel sick about it.
Could he do it? Walk through the jungle again with no backup? Physically he thought he was capable, but a flash of anxiety forced him to hold his tongue.
"I'll go," said Kelly.
"No you won't," said Steven, as gently as he could. She tilted her chin up in a mulish display of defiance, and Steven just about managed a small smile at her. "I'll go."
"I'll come with you," said Peck.
Before they left, Peck restrapped Steven's ankle while Uncle Richard fussed around him and all but force-fed him a breakfast of croissants (imported directly from Kalos - "We spared no expense.") and syrupy sitrus berry juice. He had little appetite for either. Within fifteen minutes he and Peck were out the door. His uncle had tried to delay their departure, but who knew how much longer Cynthia and Diantha could wait for him? Not to mention Kelly's young friend.
In the blindingly hot light of day Steven could almost forget all the trauma of the last twenty-four hours. The sun still hung low in the pale, cloudless sky, but it was still bright enough to glint painfully off the high, white stone walls that housed the Welcome Centre. From the outside it could have been a fortress, but he had to wonder how protected the people currently inside it really were. The doors were huge. Huge enough to allow a Tyrantrum to pass through. He breathed out and took a moment to reorientate himself. Worrying wouldn't help anybody.
"Quiet as possible once we hit the jungle," Peck instructed. Steven nodded his head, and then looked enviously down at the six Pokeballs that lined the other man's belt. He felt more secure knowing that they had some Pokemon on their side, but he would have preferred it if they had been his own. Claydol never missed a trick; it would have been the perfect partner for this excursion.
The two men began their walk around the building, and the further they went the denser the forest around them became. The inherent wrongness he had felt yesterday came back in full force, as though every plant, sound and smell was just to the left of normal. He bit back his observations and kept going.
Steven had a knack for remembering directions, a skill perhaps cultivated from years of mapping out caves and extensive underground systems, but it was still a challenge not to fixate on exactly where his feet were going, as though he was afraid they might suddenly forget their destination. Beside him Peck kept a silent watch, and not for the first time since he'd arrived on this island Steven began to miss the inane chatter Wallace would have provided had he been there. It would have been a welcome distraction.
Instead, all Steven had to focus on were the sounds of the jungle around them waking up for the day. Every tiny movement caught his attention. Every faint cry in the distance had his eyes shooting up to the sky, looking for an attack from above. The more steps they took, the further Steven felt from safety and the closer he felt to the Tyrantrum that now roamed freely across the island. Sharp-edged ferns brushed against his calves and his feet sunk into mossy underbrush. On either side of them tall cohune trees offered meagre shade from the sun, but already he was sweating through his safari shirt.
Vaguely, Steven recognised the journey they were taking. They emerged from a path into a more open area, and in front of them was a tall, barbed enclosure beside an unmanned watchtower, leering over them like a haunted house. Last time, he'd seen the pen from a raised platform, but he was still able to identify the area as the one his uncle had brought Cynthia, Diantha, Martin and himself to the day before to visit the Tyrunts. Or rather to see the Tyrunts enjoy their lunch. He swallowed back nausea.
Peck slowed down and pointed. Steven followed his gaze and his heart skipped a beat.
There was a hole in the fence.
The dull grey mesh wires were twisted around at odd angles as though gnawed on by something, and Steven had a feeling that the gap it left there was just big enough to allow a small group of Tyrunts to pass through. He didn't need to check to know that the Pokemon once housed within the pen were no longer there.
"Oh no," said Steven, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Suddenly every noise around morphed into the sound of paws hitting the soft ground or a low, menacing growl and despite the Alolan sun he felt cold.
"The backup generator must have failed when the power went out. Damn it!"
Peck moved towards the gap in the fence and squatted down beside it, and it was then that Steven noticed three sets of heavy footprints all heading off in different directions. Did Tyrunt not hunt in packs? Or was something else at play here? Not good.
Peck licked his lips and gazed out into the jungle, his grey eyes cold and calculating. He tilted his head to one side as though he'd heard something that Steven hadn't and then he gestured to their left.
"Come on," he said. "This way."
Steven hesitated. "The maintenance shed is a bit further the other way. If we walk fast maybe we can make it." None of the footprints carved a path towards their destination.
"No we can't," said Peck. Endlessly calm.
"Why not?"
"Because we're being hunted." Peck withdrew the tranquilizer gun from his belt, and with the other hand he reached for his Pokeballs. "The bushes straight ahead."
Fear rooted his feet to the spot, but he very slowly turned his head towards the section of foliage Peck was looking at. For a moment he saw nothing, then something very faint caught his eye. Like a shift of light or the smallest of shadows among the thick, green ferns. The shadow moved, and the bush rustled ever so slightly.
"It's all right," said Peck. It was the same soothing tone he'd used last night when Steven had thrown himself in front of his jeep last night. It did little to settle his nerves.
Steven said nothing.
Prickling hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Once again, he reached for Pokemon that weren't there and could have cried out in frustration. He would never take his companions for granted again.
"Run," said Peck. He didn't for one moment take his eyes off the moving shadow ahead of them, and the two of them slowly began to back away. The shadow moved too, keeping pace with them. "Towards the shed. I've got her."
"No-"
"Run!"
Startled, Steven turned and immediately tripped over a fallen tree branch. He hit the floor, stabbing pains shooting from his ankle all the way to his knee and his wrists buckling from the force. He leapt to his feet and began to run as though his life depended on it. As though more than his own life depended on. He didn't turn to see Peck move slowly towards the bushes. Nor did he see the man release a vibrant green Vivillon and a Bolthund from their Pokeballs.
He ran as fast as he could. Feet pounding against a shifting ground, still damp and slippery from yesterday's rain. He hopped over fallen debris and didn't even feel branches and hanging vines whipping across his face, leaving thin red lines across his skin. He jumped over a log and splashed into a deep puddle on the other side, warm water leaking over his borrowed shoes and soaking into his borrowed socks. His heart pounded in his ears and his breath came out in short, sharp gasps.
The maintenance shed came into view and he could have sobbed with relief.
Behind him he heard a branch snap and he pushed himself faster. Adrenaline dulled the pain. Dulled the awareness. Just keep running.
He came to another log and leapt over it, grabbing an overhanging branch and swinging himself forwards. He stumbled as his feet hit the ground but kept going.
He was almost there now. Another branch behind him crunched but he didn't dare look back. Almost there. So close.
He hit the flimsy metal gate that surrounded the entrance to the maintenance shack and ricocheted off it. He reached out with sweaty fingers and gripped between the thin wire lattice and pulled it open.
He raced inside the shed and slammed the door behind him.
