The Shadow Over Earth: Seaside

By Lindsay & Trevor If

Ashley Dunlap is a fifteen-year-old girl who stands to inherit three quarters of the globe. She has just enrolled at a magnet school where two oceanic peoples are working toward peace despite generations of conflict. But her position comes with powerful enemies. Orne, a former teacher at the school, mobilizes an army of troubled teens to end Ashley’s reign before it begins.

Meanwhile Rob Whitford, a fellow student who stands to inherit nothing but a smelly old bait shop, struggles to maintain order for the sake of an ex-girlfriend over whom he still obsesses... even at the price of his race’s freedom and prosperity...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsay & Trevor If
• Release date: Jul 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465799029

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Rob Whitford knew he shouldn’t look in the window, but he needed a break. His back was killing him. He’d served detention for nearly an hour, stooping to pick up trash with gloved hands. The courtyard still overflowed with last-day-of-school refuse: Paper, candy wrappers, even entire notebooks. Rob imagined if he ever got through all the rubble, he’d discover the foundation of Innsmouth Magnet School was actually somewhere in China.

Dean Golding had issued his detention; but Dean Gilman, who was much more easygoing, presided over it. She sat in the shade with her nose in a romance paperback. Her massive body took up half the bench. Rob made sure she was good and absorbed in her reading, then lowered his trash bag and peered in the chorus room window.

Chorus kids didn’t understand the concept of school’s out. They were having an ice cream social. A big bunch of them stood around the piano, singing one of Claire’s favorite songs. She didn’t even seem to hear it. She sat cross-legged a little ways off from the group, spoon-feeding a caramel sundae to her new boyfriend. Rob’s hand tightened on the garbage bag’s slimy lip.

Hey, Dean Gilman called out.

What? He leaned over to pick up a foot-trampled Gobstoppers box. I’m doing it.

No use. Gilman clucked her tongue and hoisted herself to her big fat feet. Come on, let’s go out to the pool. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of trash to occupy yourself there.

Okay. Rob snuck one last peek. Claire and Pretty Boy had set their sundae aside and were practicing some kind of lame dance routine. School is over, he shouted at them in his head. What are you practicing for?

Rob!

I said okay. He fell into step behind her.

Summer filled the air. It wasn’t a good thing. Sweat matted his longish hair, trickled down the back of his neck, soaked through his tee-shirt… I bet Gilman’s bringing me out here just to make me stare at the pool while I tromp around in the heat, he thought bitterly.

You can start along the fence, she informed him, then waddled off toward the vending machines by the locker room.

And watch her drink a soda. At least she wasn’t Golding. Golding would have freaked out and expelled him for looking in the window again.

As he lugged his bag to the fence, Rob noticed a thin figure in a long coat approaching from the west. It made him sweat even harder to see someone wearing a coat on a day like today. Instead he shifted his gaze longingly in the opposite direction, down the gently-sloping hill, past the big sign that read INNSMOUTH MAGNET SCHOOL, to the end of the street where patches of glittering sea peeked out at him between buildings.

The beach must be packed right now. Every year, for about half an hour after school let out for the summer, this whole street looked like a peace parade as R’lyehan and Atlantian students alike swarmed east toward the bay. But Rob had been born and raised here in Innsmouth, and he knew nothing ever changed. Just because they all shared a passion for the beach didn’t mean they all got along. On closer inspection, you could see the many smaller groups gathered within the big one – here a few R’lyehans on foot or old bikes; there a few Atlantians piled into a flashy car.

It was almost four now, though, and by this time street and sidewalk had grown so still that to hear a single voice would make Rob jump.

Tough break, man, a single voice wheezed.

Rob jumped. The coated figure stood directly opposite him. He looked around for Gilman before replying. She sat in a lounge chair by the equipment shed, lost in her book. Yeah, he muttered discreetly, stuffing a Mountain Dew can into his bag.

Up close, he recognized this low-life. It was a R’lyehan like himself, a twenty-something Innsmouth Magnet alum named Chris Allen. He played poker with one of Rob’s friends.

Chris grabbed the fence with both hands, and leaned in. His eyes were so bloodshot they looked purple instead of blue. His hair hung to the middle of his back, and he wore it loose like a girl’s, producing an effect that clashed with his angular features. They made me do this too, you know, he cackled. Last day of my sophomore year. Just like you. Made me stay and… pick up their garbage. R’lyehan vocal cords weren’t made for laughter. Chris’s cackle sounded halfway between a gag and frog’s croak. You like vodka? He reached into his coat and took out a flask.

Rob may be spending his last afternoon of the semester in detention, but that was more Golding’s fault than his own. He considered himself a decent kid. Certainly too decent to take vodka on school grounds in plain view of an administrator. Not right now.

Well, retorted Chris, taking a swig, I didn’t ask you about right now, did I?

Rob shook his head, waiting for Gilman to tell this creep get lost.

Chris cackled again. Relax, man. It was a joke.

I know. I was just… Listen, I have to go pick up trash on the other side of the pool.

Chris wrapped the fingers of his drinking hand around the chain link again and sort of hung there, putting more weight on his arms than his legs.

Rob hesitated. He looks like a monkey. Just a sad monkey with no one to talk to.

Pretty rough, huh? Chris slurred, ignoring Rob’s attempt at a graceful exit. All the other kids at the beach. Friends… Girlfriend… You got one of those, right?

Beg your pardon?

Chris belched. A girlfriend, he repeated. You got one? Last I heard you did.

Rob considered saying yes. If Chris asked to know more, he could always describe Claire. Somehow that seemed disrespectful to her, though, so after a long pause he shook his head.

"Oh, wait… so then you had one… but not now…?"

That’s none of your business. And I told you I have to go. He turned and walked briskly away from the fence.

Hey, Chris called.

Rob waited for Gilman to look up. It didn’t happen. Suddenly she snored.

"Hey!"

He resolved to keep walking until he reached the bike racks. Gilman would never know he’d split ten minutes early. She’d just wake up later with a bad sunburn. His behavior grade for the semester would hover at Needs Improvement rather than Unsatisfactory. His letter grades would stay safe. What? he asked without looking over his shoulder.

You want her back?

Of course I want her back. And I want to punch that other loser so hard you won’t be able to recognize him afterward. Every time I see them together it makes chunks come up in my throat. Yeah. So what?

There was a pause, during which Rob assumed Chris took a pull or two. Then, What’s this punk’s name? The one who stole her.

Rob turned, startled. How did you know?

You’re pretty mad for it to’ve ended well.

True. He never used to be mad. He never used to walk away in the middle of a conversation. But since his relationship with Claire, he had a much shorter fuse when it came to fellow R’lyehans. And still shorter since the breakup.

He forced himself to breathe deep and give a calm answer. Neil. His name’s Neil.

What’d you do to get detention?

Golding caught me looking in the window of this chorus class they have together. I was supposed to be in bio.

Chorus class… So they’re Atlantian. Of course what he meant was, What’s a loser like you doing with an Atlantian girl in the first place?

That’s what I get for trying to be nice to this brain-dead drunk. Rob started walking again.

Chris waved his arms in the air like he was trying to hail a taxi. Wait. Stop. Listen.

Rob faced him, but kept walking backwards. Only if you promise to tell me something I don’t already know.

A strange smile spread across the scumbag’s lips. Even from halfway around the pool patio, Rob got chills. It’s not going to be like this forever, Chris said quietly. A soft summer breeze kicked up as if on cue and carried his voice, mysteriously devoid of its previous slur, to Rob’s ears. You won’t get to rule them exactly. Not the way they’re ruling you right now. Not the way they’ve ruled your family for generations. But in exactly the way even they themselves have always preached to us… We’ll all be equal. Everyone. Someday… And when that day comes, no one’s gonna stop you from tearing that… that Neil kid’s eyeballs out and jumping up and down on them. No one’s gonna order you to pick up trash just because you’ve got a broken heart. No one’s gonna keep you away from the beach if you want to go, and no one’s gonna keep you from drinking vodka whenever you want to drink it. We’ll all be equal. Every one of us. He winked, his left eyelid drooping downward slow as sunset. "Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn," he said.

Then he stumbled off toward the beach.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand.

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand.

'If only it were cleared away,'

They said, 'it would be grand.'

'If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year,

Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,

'That they could get it clear?'

'I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

–Lewis Carroll

Through the Looking Glass

CHAPTER ONE

Ashley Dunlap jumped as thunder sounded outside the bus window. She was absorbed in her new book, Color Me Confident. It lay open across her lap, with the thousand-or-so scraps of paper she used as makeshift bookmarks piled on the empty seat to her right. Well, they’d been piled there a second ago, anyway. Now they fluttered around her feet. It’s a pretty bumpy ride, she realized now that her concentration had been broken.

She gathered her bookmarks into a stack. The first fat drops of rain hit her window while she scrambled around on the floor. Mess under control, she sat up and squinted out toward the ocean. It was hard to see anything besides her reflection in the storm-darkened dark window.

Ashley glanced at her cell phone to check the time. She didn’t do watches because they never went with her clothes. The face might be framed in a slightly shinier metal than her belt buckle, or the band just one shade more reddish of a brown than her boots. It drove her crazy. Bad enough not to have a different cell phone faceplate for every outfit. Nearly seven, she thought. Shouldn’t be much longer. Hope Dad notices the casserole I left in the fridge.

Ashley loved cooking almost as much as fashion. She prepared meals for her father near-exclusively, and considered herself a decent chef. Nonetheless, she knew her casserole would go untouched. Back in April she’d returned from three days at State Latin Competition to find her culinary creations refrigerated exactly as she’d left them. What had he eaten while she was gone? Canned soup was the highlight. His defense? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, honey, but it felt good to take care of myself for a change. So he’d fallen off the wagon. Eaten potato chips, packaged cookies, white bread, soda, the kind of peanut butter that had a million other ingredients listed after peanuts. All that unwholesome trash she tried so hard to avoid in her own cooking. Hydrogenated oils, artificial sweeteners. Cancer in cans, heart problems in neat little packets. She shuddered to think what would happen now that she was going away for an entire semester.

Still, even as she thought the words, an excited shiver ran through her. She was going away for an entire semester. Maybe longer.

The rain fell fast now. It sounded like a herd of ponies galloping back and forth across the roof. The bus hit a pothole that bounced Ashley nearly to her feet. She glanced up the aisle at the driver. Did this weather make him nervous? Being from Florida, she was used to crazy storms, but did it often rain this hard here in Massachusetts? She didn’t think so. The absurd notion that she should offer to drive entered her head. She scoffed it away just as quickly. I’m sure no matter what he’s used to, she told herself, it beats surrendering the wheel of an oversized vehicle to a fifteen-year-old with nothing but her learner’s permit.

If the driver was nervous, he didn’t show it. He leaned back in his seat like it was an easy chair, and stared straight ahead through the windshield with his eerie blue eyes.

Ashley was glad she couldn’t see those eyes from here, though she knew she’d have to get used to them eventually. In the brochure for Innsmouth Magnet School, which she would soon attend, half the students pictured had eyes like that.

It was much scarier in person.

Not that this signature look conveyed malice. In fact, it conveyed no expression whatsoever. There were no irises, just pupils centered in wide blue voids. They rarely blinked, and when they did it was slowly, as if the action caused great pain.

This must explain the tension between Innsmouth and its neighboring cities. Her dad was a professor of sociology back in Florida, but he’d attended college in this area some twenty years earlier, and the culture still fascinated him. Seems to me, he’d told his daughter, there’s more than just an hour’s road trip cutting those folks off from the rest of the world.

Things had changed since his college days. But not much. A shuttle still ran between the airport at Arkham and the bus station at Innsmouth. On this particular September evening, Ashley was its only non-creepy-eyed passenger. In fact, the full tally came to only three. The other two – a man and woman, both middle-aged with small ears and thinning hair – had boarded together and hadn’t exchanged a word since. Ashley thanked them silently for sitting several rows behind her, where she could easily forget their presence.

A cluster of lights sprang into view outside her window, huddled at the foot of the bluff like live creatures seeking shelter from the storm. Beyond lay an expanse of deep black, differing just slightly from the lighter black of the sky. Ashley took this blacker-blackness to be the bay. A flashing buoy, maybe attached to a lobster trap, bobbed into view just long enough to let her know she was right. Then it was gone again, obscured by the waves pitching it about.

Ashley looked down at the book in her lap, and blinked as the harsh fluorescents inside the bus reflected off the white page. Should she put her stuff away now? Would she have time for just one more section? The book fascinated her. It described how to predict what would look good on you using your hair, eye, and skin color. Ashley considered this a refreshing change from fashion magazines, where she often found pictures of clothes that looked flattering with no explanation of why.

Five minutes to Innsmouth. the driver called out without turning around.

Ashley shoved Color Me Confident into her backpack. School didn’t start for another four days, so she’d have plenty of time to finish reading. She hoped she’d also have time to snag some new clothes and make a good first impression.

As she reached into her bag, her hand brushed the envelope that contained her travel documents. She withdrew it and removed Mariah’s picture. The frozen face smiled out at her, with its smooth ivory skin and abundance of thick red hair. This was the woman with whom Ashley would be boarding, a grad student of her father’s who was writing a thesis on Innsmouth Magnet School. The picture had worn from multiple viewings, but still Ashley feared she might flake out and fail to recognize her new guardian. Similar things had happened before. She wasn’t great with faces.

Something moved a few feet to her right. She jumped, realizing the couple from the back of the bus had snuck up on her. Snuck up… Was that really the right term? They didn’t mean to scare her, after all. They stood in the aisle with their luggage, staring placidly out the windshield along with the driver. As Ashley watched, the man gave a slow blink. His lids engulfed his wide blue eyeballs with a squishy noise.

Ashley shuddered.

He glanced sharply at her.

Ashley looked down at her lap, cheeks burning. I shouldn’t have stared, she thought. He can’t help how he looks.

There was an intense silence. Then another squishy sound, different from that of his blink, piqued her curiosity. She flicked her eyes toward the couple for a split second, then looked back down. The man was whispering in his travel companion’s ear. Ashley couldn’t hear any words. The strange sound still came ever-so-faintly from their direction, as if to purposely mask the man’s voice. Sure enough, she glanced over again when the noise stopped, and his lips had closed.

The bus coasted into the terminal. Ashley drew in a deep breath… and almost gagged. What was that smell? Was it them? Though she understood vomiting would come off much worse than just staring, it was all she could do to keep down the snack mix she’d resorted to eating on the plane. What was in their luggage, rotting fish?

She held her breath again, this time out of sheer will rather than anxiety, and waited in her seat as they shuffled off down the aisle. When she finally dared to inhale, the smell had faded.

The woman said something to the driver, masked by the same squishy sound as before. No, not masked, Ashley realized. That’s her voice. She’s speaking another language.

Ashley had a sensitive ear. The ability to find breaks between words, even in tongues like Mandarin Chinese that were very different from her own, came easily to her. But this was unlike any sound she’d ever heard a human make. More like a giant slug dragging its mucus-y body across rough grass.

As the couple exited, the driver’s creepy eyes met Ashley’s normal ones in the rearview mirror. His expression betrayed nothing, but he must be impatient for her to get a move on. She shoved Mariah’s picture and the envelope back into her bag, along with her purse so she wouldn’t have as much to carry. Then she dragged her suitcase out from under the seat in front of her and jumped up.

Thank you, she said on her way out.

The driver nodded, eyes still fixed on the rearview. She wondered if he could sense her embarrassing prejudice, and if she ought to tell him she was sorry. But as she hesitated next to the open door, that terrible smell filled her nostrils again. Suddenly more disgusted than repentant, she held her breath as long as she could and jogged through the rain to an area of the station that had a roof overhead.

The station was empty. The other couple had disappeared, and there was no sign of Mariah. How ridiculous for Ashley to fear she might mistake someone else for her new guardian, when there wasn’t a soul in sight.

As soon as she reached the dry area, she inhaled. The fishy smell still lingered, but had decreased to a tolerable level.

It was much colder than the September evenings in Florida to which she was accustomed. She shivered even in the trench coat her father had bought her as a going-away present. As the bus pulled out, its headlights flashed across a dripping billboard that proclaimed Welcome to Innsmouth in faded lettering. It was so dreary that it was almost comical, like Dracula’s castle in a cartoon.

So far, she thought, I don’t feel very welcome at all.

Then a glistening red convertible squealed to a stop in front of her.

CHAPTER TWO

I am so sorry I’m late, exclaimed the driver.

There was no mistaking Mariah. Her red hair was even more brilliant in person. Everything about her was both red and brilliant. She wore a tomato-red halter dress and matching lipstick. Her overall fashion choices reflected those of a fifties movie star. No one else Ashley knew could have pulled it off. But set against the dismal backdrop of Innsmouth, these blocks of intense color were warm and inviting. And true to her picture, Mariah had perfectly normal eyes.

The trunk popped open. It was small and cramped. Ashley stood in the rain for longer than was pleasant, shuffling her suitcase and backpack around until they finally fit. Then she slammed the trunk, and was halfway to the passenger door before it dawned on her that something was very wrong with this picture.

Is she crazy? Why would she have left the top down?

Mariah beamed up at Ashley, clueless. Rain trickled down her ivory skin, splashed the leather seats, ran in rivulets down the insides of all the windows and the expensive-looking stereo system, soaked through the mats on the floors. Would Dad really want me boarding with this lunatic? Ashley wondered. Maybe I should get a hotel for now and see if there’s an extra dorm room available at the school.

Do you want to drive? Mariah asked, seeing her hesitation.

Oh, no thanks, Ashley replied. I can’t drive stick. As soon as we get to her apartment, I’ll email Dad to ask if he can pay for a dorm, she resolved, and climbed in.

Her coat was fairly water-resistant, but when her butt hit the puddle on the seat, she felt several degrees colder.

Mariah leaned in for a hug. She even smelled red, like a cherry lollipop. This is so exciting! I finally get to meet Dr. Dunlap’s daughter. Man, what a time to be here, right? She put the car in gear and accelerated into a tight u-turn.

Ashley nearly swallowed her heart. What do you mean? she squeaked, scrambling for her seatbelt.

Oh, just everything. Relations between Innsmouth and the rest of the world are better than they’ve ever been. All because of people like you. You’re a pioneer. One of the few who’s even dared set foot in this town for a long time. On her way out of the parking lot, she cut off the only other car that could be seen for miles.

A pioneer? Ashley repeated, cringing as the other driver flashed his high beams at them. She remembered her father saying something similar: that Innsmouth Magnet could be compared to America’s first desegregated schools, and that as a student Ashley would help end years of social isolation for the town.

Sure. Cookie? Mariah held out a Tupperware container. The top was off, and all the cookies had melted into a soggy clump.

Uh, no thanks, she said, though her stomach was growling. I ate on the plane.

Mariah shuddered. Suit yourself. I can’t stand airline meals.

The car behind them pulled into the other lane as if to pass. Mariah accelerated and left it in the dust so smoothly that it may not have been intentional.

So how far is the apartment? Ashley asked, struggling to keep her voice nonchalant.

Not too far. I’ve got your room all decorated and everything. You don’t know how relieved I was when you showed up wearing a yellow coat. I’ve never seen Dr. Dunlap wear anything other than boring old gray. But of course men don’t go as crazy with their colors. I’ve never been to you guys’ house, anyway. Just to his office. And who knows what kind of decorating restrictions the university puts on him?

Ashley wouldn’t exactly have called her coat yellow. It was more of a camel. What an odd thing to say, she thought. Why should I have the same favorite color as my father? It’s fine, thank you.

Mariah raised an eyebrow. She was as oblivious as a statue to the rain streaming down her face. Just ‘fine?’ Is it your color, or isn’t it?

Was this woman for real? Did she expect every female to feel so strongly about her favorite color? It’s one of them, Ashley said carefully.

You have more than one?

Well, I don’t… I mean… Yellow was fine. Besides, if Mariah was so intent on making her feel at home, why hadn’t she just asked beforehand? The two had communicated frequently via email for the past couple months.

I guess I should have asked, Mariah echoed Ashley’s thoughts. A lot of people nowadays think it’s just a silly old tradition.

Ashley had never heard of a tradition that required you to decorate a guest’s room in her favorite color without first asking what her favorite color was. Who—?

Everyone. Mostly your school. They’d be happiest if kids gave up their colors altogether. There’s some talk about uniforms next year. Black ones. Can you imagine? I think that’s a little extreme. I mean, take you, for example. A young girl, traveling fifteen hundred miles from home, all by herself, to a town where she’s dangerously in the minority… you wouldn’t have done it without any yellow on, right? Might as well have gone naked.

They sped up an incline so quickly that Ashley’s stomach stayed behind when they started downhill. She willed herself to concentrate on something besides motion sickness, Mariah’s baffling questions, and the disturbing suggestion that she might be in danger. What’s that? she asked, pointing out the first structure she saw along the roadside.

It must have been very old. Something about it didn’t seem right. The angles were all different from what her eyes expected to see, giving Ashley the impression of an optical illusion come to life. Watching it grow closer in the headlights, she felt the same chill as when she gazed into the blue eyes of the natives.

Mariah glanced over. The old church. Only one left standing, after what happened in the thirties.

The thirties? She felt almost grateful when Mariah took a sudden left turn with tires squealing, and the church disappeared from view.

A raid. Only R’lyehans were here then, and a lot of them were still practicing, Mariah said, as if that explained it.

Was it possible to have a normal conversation with this woman? Look, Mariah, I’m sorry, but I’m at a total loss here. You’re going to have to explain some things to me. What kind of raid? What were the R’lyehans practicing? What is a R’lyehan?

She heard Mariah’s breath catch, saw those red-fingernailed hands grip the wheel. Reflexively she followed suit, bracing for a physical impact. But none came. Mariah stared through the rain for several uneventful seconds. Then, in her most responsible maneuver so far, she put on the blinker and pulled off to the side.

Every building in sight looked as if it ought to be condemned. The closest one had a two-story chunk taken out of one corner, as if some colossal shark had come along and bitten it. Are we here? Ashley thought. Judging from the flashy car, she’d imagined Mariah could afford much better. Then again, this was a woman who drove around with her top down during a thunderstorm, so inadequate shelter didn’t seem like a major concern for her. Is this where you live? Ashley asked, forcing herself to sound cheerful just in case.

No, not yet. Mariah shifted in her seat to face Ashley, and Ashley returned the courtesy. "I’ll tell you what a R’lyehan is, but first I want you to tell me everything you know."

I still have no idea what you’re talking about.

Do you know why you came?

Finally Ashley lost her cool. What was this, the Spanish Inquisition? How was it fair of Mariah to answer her perfectly-normal questions with cryptic ones of her own? And why, oh, why were they sitting there like seagulls while buckets of rain poured down on their heads and harsh wind numbed their faces? Well, I thought I did, she snapped. But now that I realize my guardian is a total nut job who drives around in the storm of the century with her top down and eats soggy cookies and won’t quit asking weird stuff.

Mariah closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. Her eyelids didn’t flinch as the rain hit them with all the force of having fallen from the sky, and bounced back. You don’t know why they built Innsmouth Magnet School? Or what kind of… person you have to be to go there?

I got a hundred on the entrance exam, if that’s what you mean.

Without opening her eyes, Mariah pushed a button between their