The Elemental Page 12

  “Nothing happened yet,” the visiting Elara reminded him gently. “We’re going to prevent all of this.”

  The visiting Argon showed no signs of acknowledgement, his face stoic.

  “Sweep the area,” future Miela commanded. “Look for any other bodies.”

  Future Elara glued herself to Miela’s side as they moved to examine another section of the house.

  “Over there!” future Miela yelled, pointing to a pale hand that was sticking out from beneath some debris. The two women heaved their bodies against the wooden structure, trying to move it off of the body beneath.

  There, lying on his side, was Argon Tawer. Elara knelt near his head and placed her fingers on the pulse point on his neck, tears welling up in her eyes.

  The visiting Elara’s eyes were tearing up in the same way, completely immersed in the scene before them. She looked over at the visiting Argon, who was staring at his own body, completely numb.

  “Oh God,” future Elara breathed shakily. “Oh God…”

  “Is he…?”

  Future Elara’s body shook as she stared at the still body before her. “We promised him we’d protect him. We said we would… Damn it! Why didn’t he leave? He should have left! Damn it, Argon!”

  “We couldn’t make him leave Polaris,” Miela replied quietly. “He wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t abandon—”

  “He should have!” Elara cried.

  “This isn’t right,” whispered the visiting Elara.

  “This shouldn’t happen,” the visiting Miela agreed. “How did—”

  “No, I mean this isn’t it. This isn’t right,” said the visiting Elara seriously. “Argon can’t be dead. You’re not dead. You can’t be; we haven’t seen Helia yet. You can’t be dead.”

  The visiting Argon, Noiro, and Miela looked at each other and nodded gratefully at the visiting Elara for the reminder. She was right.

  “Elara… I still have to…” future Miela began uneasily, kneeling beside the visiting Elara.

  “I know,” future Elara answered, her eyes glued to Argon. “Do what you have to do. I’ll stay here.”

  “I’ll send someone to…”

  “Just go, Miela,” Elara cried. Miela nodded silently. She squeezed her shoulder, and then quickly got up to search for any more bodies in the house.

  Elara looked back down at Argon and scooted closer, turning him over so he was lying on his back. His eyes were still open, and his arm landed on the floor with a thud. She pressed her palm over his eyes, closing them shut. His mouth was still slightly ajar. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that he was sleeping.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured sorrowfully, turning her head away from his body. She couldn’t bear to look at him like that anymore. She inhaled deeply, tears falling freely down her face. She moved to get up, and paused as she heard the faint sound of glass tinkling against the floor. Her head snapped down towards the sound, curiosity momentarily overshadowing her grief as her eyes fell upon an object that rolled out of Argon’s fingers.

  “There. What’s that?” The visiting Miela pointed.

  “A vial. It’s empty,” the visiting Elara remarked, kneeling down next to her future self. “The label’s scratched off here a bit…” She frowned, and then her face brightened up with realization. “It’s from Noiro’s laboratory!”

  Future Elara studied the vial, frowning as she recognized the vial as one of Noiro’s vials. She ran her finger over the scratched label and then uncorked the vial, lifting it to her nose. She scrunched up her face sourly as a strong, bitter smell wafted into her nostrils, and she exhaled in distaste. Elara furrowed her brow, thinking hard.

  Suddenly, she dropped the bottle and pulled herself closer to Argon’s head, gently pulling back his eyelids.

  “What’s happening?” the visiting Argon demanded. “What is she doing? What are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure,” the visiting Elara replied. “I think she must’ve figured out something—”

  Future Elara gasped and shot up to her feet.

  “Miela. Miela! His eyes! His pupils! Call Noiro! Call Noiro now!” Future Elara’s voice drowned out the visiting one as she took off after future Miela.

  “What? What?” Future Miela whirled around, two other officers nearby watching Elara as she ran towards them.

  “Call Noiro,” she said, panting. “Ask him to check his vials.”

  “His what?”

  “His vials!” future Elara repeated frantically. “Are any of them missing? Ask him which one. Quickly!”

  Future Miela moved hastily, pulling out a small phone from her pocket and punched in Noiro’s number.

  Elara watched as Miela quickly relayed what she was just told, nodding as she listened intently. Elara could hear Noiro’s voice trickling out from the receiver, and Miela nodded again, watching her frantic friend.

  “You’re right,” Miela confirmed. “A few vials are missing, actually. Why? Wh—”

  Elara snatched the phone away from Miela and pressed it to her ear. “Noiro. Which ones are missing?”

  “Elara?” Noiro’s worried voice trickled into her ear.

  “Which ones? Quick, Noiro!”

  “Er, a few vials of nitric acid, celestial essence, atropine, and a couple of vials of pilocarpine,” Noiro’s voice crackled through the phone.

  “I knew it,” she hissed excitedly. “Thank you, Noiro!” She tossed the phone back to Miela and took off running back to future Argon’s body.

  She dropped to her knees, beginning to desperately search around Argon. The visiting group anxiously peered over future Elara’s shoulder as she continued her search. Finding nothing, she turned her attention to the body.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered to herself as she patted anxiously at Argon’s pockets. She stopped at his breast pocket and quickly stuck her hand in to pull something out. There, in her fist, was another vial.

  “Good work, Tawer,” Elara breathed quietly, grasping the vial in her hand.

  “What are you doing?” asked future Miela, who tailed her childhood friend back to Argon.

  Elara didn’t answer. She examined the vial closely.

  “Atropine. He took atropine,” said the visiting Elara as she watched her future self urgently pull at the second vial’s cork with her teeth. “It slows your body functions down; your heart rate, your breathing, everything. It’s highly unstable. Too much of it could kill you.”

  “That’s what she meant when she was talking about his pupils earlier,” explained the visiting Noiro. “One of the telltale signs of atropine poisoning is dilated pupils.”

  “What is she doing, then?” the visiting Miela repeated Argon’s earlier question.

  “Using the antidote, I think,” mused the visiting Elara. “Argon must have stashed the antidote in his pocket.”

  Indeed, future Elara popped open the vial’s stopper, and drew closer to Argon. “You’d better hope this works,” she whispered to the man lying on the floor, trying to steady her hands as she lifted the vial to his mouth, slowly drizzling the liquid down his throat. She lifted his head, trying to help the liquid go down.

  Come on, Argon, she pleaded internally as she pressed her fingers against his neck, praying for any sign of a pulse. Please…

  The observers, both visiting and future ones, held their breaths in anticipation, watching. Even though the visitors knew that future Argon would survive the atropine poisoning, they couldn’t help but worry as they watched the man lie lifelessly before them.

  A wave of excitement flooded into future Elara when she felt a faint flutter beneath his skin as his heart beat a little stronger. She poured a little more of the liquid antidote into future Argon’s mouth, tipping his head back and pressing her finger down onto his tongue. He made a small gagging noise, and the liquid drained down into his throat. A chuckle punctuated a small sob as future Elara saw future Argon’s face regain some color.

  “Good… Argon, one more…”

/>   She poured down the rest of the liquid into his mouth, watching in relief as he gagged and swallowed. She took a step back and watched anxiously. Future Miela put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Elara put her hand on top of Miela’s and squeezed, holding her breath.

  Future Argon suddenly gasped, taking in a deep breath. His eyes were still shut.

  “Argon?” Elara called, shaking his shoulder softly.

  Nothing.

  “Argon? Argon, wake up.” Her voice rose as panic began to set in once more. She shook him a little harder. Her heart thundered in her ears as she repeated, “Wake up.”

  The man lay motionless.

  “Get up, Argon,” she commanded, tapping his shoulder. “Argon. Argon, get up, damn it!”

  Argon raggedly breathed in again, and let out a small groan.

  “Wake up,” Elara ordered shakily, her eyes raw as tears blurred her vision once more. “Wake up!” she shook him harder. Miela held her breath.

  The man stirred, groaning again. His eyes weakly fluttered open. He turned his head slowly to the side, and Elara dropped her head into her hands and began to cry, overwhelmed with relief and joy.

  “Elara?” future Argon croaked.

  She sniffed, lifting her head from her hands, and chuckled blearily, wiping her nose with her sleeve. He smiled weakly back.

  “You… You idiot!” Her relief suddenly disappeared, replaced with a small wave of anger. “What were you thinking? Atropine? You could’ve died!”

  Argon, stunned at her unexpected reaction, glanced nervously at Miela, who was still standing beside her. Miela shrugged, a small smile dancing on her lips as she watched Elara angrily berate the man.

  “Elara…”

  “Answer me, damn it!” she fumed, steaming. “Do you know what you did? How you made me feel? I thought you were dead!”

  “I thought I was going to die,” future Argon uttered softly, closing his eyes. He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire but limp at the same time. “They were too fast. I couldn’t get away. It was ten to one. I thought I was going to die…so I took the poison. Just enough to make it look like I was already dead.” Argon grimaced as he slowly stretched his neck, still too weak to move.

  “It could’ve killed you! Atropine is highly unstable! You know that!”

  “I know, but I had to risk it. If they found me, I would’ve been killed for sure. They might’ve even had a go at torturing me first, like the others. The poison gave me a chance of surviving,” Argon rationalized. He smiled. “And I was right; my plan worked.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Elara repeated. “I thought you were dead… If anyone else found you…you could have been buried alive.”

  “Which is why I was hoping that you’d be the one to find me,” Argon replied earnestly.

  Elara paused.

  He didn’t understand. To him, it sounded simple. Logical. He could see that she was distraught, but he didn’t understand the depth of it all.

  “Never again, Argon Tawer. You hear me?” she uttered ominously. “Don’t you dare do anything like that ever again. You can’t do that to me again.”

  “Elara?” Argon shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

  “You can’t do that to me again,” she repeated urgently. “Never again.”

  Argon locked his eyes with hers, and pushed himself to sit up. He felt overwhelmed; overcome with waves of anxiety, exhaustion, fear, relief, joy. She moved closer, tipping her head forward and resting her forehead against his, exhausted and drained. “Never again,” he agreed, his voice soft yet firm. His heart raced as he felt her breath against his cheeks. Argon closed his eyes as he leaned into her, the tumbling waves of emotions coming to a halt as everything slowed down in his head.

  He loved her.

  The visiting Argon and Elara looked up at each other, uncomfortable and dazed. It didn’t make any sense. But looking at where their journeys had led, for their future selves, it made all the sense in the world.

  “Nothing.”

  The visiting group looked around as the scene around the materialized into the familiar sitting room of Noiro’s cottage. The future Miela was standing at the coffee table, while the rest of the room’s occupants stood around, watching Miela as she stared at the large map rolled out in front of them. The room was crowded, with some people standing around the edges while others huddled together onto the couches. Elara noted that there were a few more arm chairs added to Noiro’s sitting room. It seemed that having more visitors at the cottage was becoming frequent enough for him to expand the seating options.

  Future Noiro was standing at future Miela’s side, gazing intently at the map before them and jotting down a few notes. Future Elara was sitting on the other side of Miela, with Argon next to her.

  The visiting Elara recognized some familiar faces gathered around as well; Tami Nassah, Meer Nima-al, Araceli Sora, Altair Aquila, Astra Otthild, Venus Wolf, Imine Erela, Kalani Leo, and other Guardians she didn’t recognize.

  The visiting group’s attention was distracted by a sudden outburst from future Miela as she slammed her palm against the table.

  “We have nothing! No leads, no clues, nothing! All of the attacks over the last two years… Nothing!”

  “We’ve been getting more reports of refugees being driven to Polaris for protection,” said Elara.

  “How many?” Miela demanded in frustration, pushing some of her hair away from her face. Her usual long braid was no longer there; her hair was cropped short, falling right at her chin. Her eyes looked hard, like she hadn’t slept in weeks.

  The visiting Elara glanced at everyone else. They all looked the same. Her future self looked more weathered and exhausted, her long hair messily pulled back with a ribbon. Future Argon’s dark hair had a few white streaks in it, and his beard was on the verge of being messy and unkempt. Future Noiro’s hair had turned completely silver, his face ragged and anxious.

  “About three million more people, by last week’s count,” reported future Noiro. “I think it’s now a total of ten million since the King died. All of the reports are the same. Houses are being broken into, artifacts stolen, unexplained suicides. There’ve even been reports of schools from some outer cities having mass suicides. But nothing about who is behind it all. Nothing left behind at any of the scenes. Nothing.”

  “It’s maddening. How can we have mass evacuations from cities, hundreds, if not thousands of attacks, and not one person’s seen what’s behind the destruction? How can we fight against something if we don’t even know what it is?” Miela gripped the side of the table, frustrated.

  “We know that they’re looking for something, whoever they are,” said Elara. “They’ve been ransacking homes and museums. The list of items stolen are all the same: they’re some sort of gems or family heirlooms. They have to be looking for something. And none of them turned up on the black market, either, which rules out the theory of them being stolen for money or funds.”

  “But we don’t know what they’re after,” the future Miela griped. “What could be so important that it’s worth killing people over?”

  “The deaths were all ruled as suicides—”

  “I know what they were ruled as,” Miela quipped irately. “But we know they’re not suicides. There’s no way…”

  “We’re going around in circles,” the visiting Miela remarked, watching her future self flustered and frustrated as she marked off evacuated cities on the map.

  “Noiro, take a look at this,” the visiting Miela pointed at the cities. “Could be useful for us to know.”

  The visiting Noiro walked over and stood beside his future self, quickly noting down the affected cities. “Wow… I didn’t know things would be this bad,” he murmured, his face twisting with worry as he examined the charts, the little scratches over the evacuated city names marring the map.

  “When is this?” the visiting Argon asked suddenly. “I’ve lost track of time.”

  “A littl
e over a year after the attack on your home,” Noiro replied, finishing jotting down the last of the cities on his notebook. Argon nodded, his stomach in knots.

  The scene changed around the visiting group again.

  This time, they saw future Elara running through the forest. She looked behind her, eyes wild with fear as they scanned the dark trees around her, fervently searching for whatever it was that she was running from.

  She tripped over some uneven ground, grunting as she hit the floor. She hoisted herself up, her lip bleeding and her palms caked in mud, and kept running. She seemed to be counting under her breath as she ran, her eyes focused on the trees.

  The group followed her as she suddenly stopped in her tracks and her counting ceased. She turned, touching one of the trees, and then ducked into it.

  The visiting Elara blinked as she watched herself disappear into a tree. “Where did she go? Where are we?”

  “I don’t recognize the area,” murmured Miela, looking around. They were deep into a forest. A soft glow was in the distance, and the sound of two sets of footsteps echoed through the thicket.

  Noiro watched closely. “She disappeared into a tree. It is hollowed out!”

  The group watched as future Elara tried to calm her erratic breathing and pressed herself into the tree’s trunk. She shivered, the insects brushing against her ear as she burrowed into the tree’s rotting hollow. She held one of her muddy palms to her mouth, stifling her breaths.

  A faint rustling sound began to grow louder and nearer. Future Elara peered out from a crack in the rotting hollowed out tree, watching for what was coming. The group turned their attention to the sound.

  “Any sign of her?” a gruff voice quietly called out.

  “No. But she was headed this way,” another deep voice answered.

  The two men were clad in blue Guardian uniforms, with hoods that shrouded their faces from view. The visiting Miela frowned. The voices were unfamiliar.

  “We can’t let her escape. She might’ve seen something…”

  “Did you get an ID on her?”

  “Not really,” scoffed one of the men. “But I’ve seen her before. She’s part of the resistance.”