Free Meridian by Josin L. McQuein

sometimes.”
    “But she’s you, isn’t she?” And since when is there a distinction? The shadow crawlers are an all-for-one deal. If you hear one, you hear the rest.
    “I thought so, too, but I’m not sure about anything tonight,” she says. “Something must have gone wrong when Bolt and Rue healed you and Trey.”
    I’m more concerned with the idea that something went right, and this is stage two. She might be convinced that the Fade mean no harm, but their definition of help isn’t the same as ours—that’s why they’ve stuck with Dad. We don’t always speak the same language. This could be their idea of “better.”
    “You should have told me,” I say.
    “I just did.”
    Marina stands on the Arc with her foot hovering above the ground, but she can’t manage to take the first step.
    “What if she’s stronger than me?” she says, but more to herself than me. She flinches, slapping at her ears. Did one of them say something back?
    “If you’re crossing, I’m going with you, and it has to be now. Leaving after the Arc goes hot will set off an alarm.”
    “This is a bad idea,” she says. “But I don’t have a better one.” She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and steps over the boundary into the Grey.
    The short side used to be most dangerous place I knew; it’s where we were most vulnerable. Anytime the Fade tried to break in, they did it here, because it’s the only place you can cross and get back in a few hours. Now it’s simply the most convenient. A couple of other people are already out here, barely within sight of the Arclight, but none of them are the kids from Honoria’s speech.
    “Tell me your dream again,” Marina says after we’re past them.
    “I’m standing on the Arc, when it comes on and fries me where I stand.”
    “Now tell me the real one.”
    I don’t want to. If I recount it, then I have to think about it, and if I’m thinking about it, then I might as well be living it.
    “Why?” I ask.
    “Because maybe I’m wrong,” she says. “Maybe mine wasn’t the same and I only convinced myself it was.”
    “That’s probably it. I doubt your brain is as twisted as mine.”
    “I saw the Dark, Tobin,” she says. “But it wasn’t the place we went before, with the houses and families. It was like Trey’s drawings. The whole thing was one writhing monster, ready to devour the world.”
    “I call that variation two,” I say. Number one is worse.
    We’ve reached the point where the terrain begins to change. Murky water appears in puddles and then turns the ground to mush that sucks against the bottoms of my boots. That’s the only sound here beyond the wind and the occasional movement of the water.
    This is part of the dream, too.
    A creature I first mistake for a log makes a whipping motion with its long snout and tail before sliding into the water with barely a ripple. Its eyes shine red beneath the surface, where it lurks, watching.
    “So, once we’re in . . . there . . . how do we find the nanobot?” I ask. “Do we call its—”
    “His!” Marina snaps.
    “Fine. Do we call his name or try to find our way back to the settlement on our own?”
    “I think Cherish can call him, but I’m not sure I want—”
    “Stop.”
    I throw my arm up so she can’t walk any farther. Finding the Fade won’t be a problem; they’re here. She should have heard them before me.
    The terrain shimmers and then splits, forming two solid bodies with ash-pale skin marked with nanites. They head straight for us.
    One’s female, bigger than Marina, but not by much. She has a broad nose and wide eyes framed by spirals. The male’s a head taller than me, but it’s his hands that stand out. Most of these things come pretty evenly marked, unless they’re hurt and the nanites go to the wound, but this guy’s got nano-doodles all over his hands. He’s scarred, too. A jagged ridge cuts through his scalp, leaving him with a bald spot.
    I don’t know about the female, but he was