Eden, p.12
Eden, page 12
“I’m still looking,” she said.
“Of course you are. So am I.”
“We won’t find her, will we?”
“I’m not sure what would happen if we did.”
“What do you mean?” Jenn gave him a chunk of slab and he took a bite to marshal his thoughts.
“I mean, she hasn’t spoken to me in six years. I don’t know why bumping into her somewhere like this will change anything.”
“Even if she invited us here?”
“If that message was an invitation, it was to you.”
“And she knew I’d come with you.”
“Huh. Maybe.”
Jenn was quiet for a while, looking down at her trail shoes. He followed her gaze. A spider the size of a plum crawled over her left trainer, but she didn’t move. He wasn’t sure she even noticed.
“Jenn?”
“We won’t bump into her,” she said. “If Mum’s still in Eden after so long, the only way we’ll find her is dead.”
“Maybe she liked it so much in here she decided to stay,” he said. It was meant as a joke, but he knew it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility. Crossing the Husky Plains in Canada long ago, he and Kat had lain awake one night in their tent, hot food in their bellies and a buzz of whiskey settling them into each other’s arms, and they’d discussed staying. Living off the land. Making the most of somewhere so deserted. The only thing that had persuaded them to move on was the knowledge that these places weren’t meant for people anymore. They broke countless laws to race across the Zones, but they were respectful of their reasons for existing.
Still, the thought was always there. Any time Dylan found himself in one of the Zones, the peace and solitude were almost overwhelming, the wilderness humbling. He could live and die in one of these places. He knew that Kat felt the same.
“Dad…” Jenn said, then she trailed off.
Dylan glanced at the rest of the team. Gee muttered something, and Lucy laughed. Selina sat with her back against a tree. It was almost perfect.
“Jenn?” he prompted.
“Nothing,” she said. She stood and smiled, gave him a hug, and as they were cheek to cheek she said, “You can talk to me any time.”
Dylan felt a lump in his throat. That was all the acknowledgement Jenn gave about the nightmare he’d had, and it was all that was needed. She knew him so well.
But he knew her, too. He knew that she had something more to say, and he guessed it concerned Kat. Perhaps soon the time would come for her to say it.
16
“Seven times in the last dozen years, fires set by illegal loggers in what remains of the Amazon rainforest have swept unchecked south and east towards the Jaguar Zone, and then died at its borders. In some places the Xingu River marks the boundary, in other areas a landscape of deep ravines… but these are not barriers that the fire could not cross. Whatever extinguished those flames were not geographical features. My theory is unpopular, and has made me few friends, but I stand by it—I believe those fires did not spread because the Jaguar Zone was protecting itself.”
Dr Isabella Rossi, Diego Portales University
“Selina?” Dylan asked. “Some sort of plant?”
“Don’t think so,” she said. “None that I know, at least.”
“Look like flags to me,” Gee said.
“Then you’re a dick,” Cove said.
“Takes one to know one.”
They stood along the lip of a steep ravine, looking down the treacherous slope towards a floor hidden by trees. It was maybe forty metres deep, and they could hear a stream tumbling along its base. They could descend and climb up the other side, or take a four-mile detour to the west and cross higher up the hillside. They’d already decided to tackle the ravine when Jenn saw the weird tattered shapes hanging from the trees.
“What do you think, Cove?” Dylan asked. Cove was already crouched at the cliff edge, examining options for their descent. He was sometimes reckless and gung-ho, but he was also the best climber among them. Between expeditions he spent time in Colorado and California doing casual work, and the previous year he’d climbed El Capitan over five days with two old climbing partners.
“There are ways down,” he said. “It’s a scramble, nothing technical, but we’ll be cool. No need to use ropes. I’ll lead the way.” He grinned at Lucy. “You follow my lead, but please don’t push.”
They started down into the ravine. There were no paths to follow, but Cove used his experience to pick out the safest descent. Dylan’s slight fear of heights remained at bay, though he kept most of his attention on his feet and the cliff wall beside him as they made their way down. He only felt nervous in one place, where they had to step across a wide crack in the wall that chimneyed down to its base.
As they came level with the strange things hanging from the high branches of four trees, they saw they were scraps of old material. They completed their descent, then worked their way across the boulder-strewn ravine floor, fording the stream, until they stood beneath the trees and looked up.
“Too high to see properly,” Lucy said. “How the fuck did they get up there?”
“Allow me,” Cove said. He shrugged off his backpack, circled the trees, chose one and started to climb. He was a big man, but he winnowed his way between branches and made rapid progress. He startled a couple of small birds which took off, circled, then landed again out along a branch, watching him climb with heads cocked. A squirrel scurried along another limb and then turned, shrieking at him instead of running away scared.
“He’s keen to get up there,” Jenn said.
“Trying to impress,” Lucy said.
“They’re too far out for you to grab!” Dylan called up. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Cove said. “I can just…” He edged along a branch, holding on to those around him as it bowed beneath his weight. The material flittered and flapped as the branch moved. Dylan shielded his eyes against spears of morning sunlight penetrating the tree canopy.
“Damn it, Cove,” Lucy said, too quiet for him to hear.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Gee said.
“Bloody showing off, as usual,” Lucy said.
“Cove, it’s not worth the—” Dylan called. They all heard the branch cracking, saw Cove slip, heard his muttered curse. In a moment of panic, Dylan saw what was to come—a fallen man, broken bones, concussion and a compound fracture, ineffective field dressings, making a stretcher and somehow dragging him back to the border, submitting themselves to security and being arrested…
“Got it!” Cove shouted. He was hanging onto another branch, both feet flailing as they sought purchase. In his other hand, the thin branch holding the old clothing.
“Just be fucking careful!” Lucy shouted.
Cove found his feet. “No problem, sweetheart.”
“Fucking prick,” Lucy muttered. “Fucking prick.”
Gee laughed. “Lucy says you’re a fucking prick!” he called. “Drop it down so you can use both hands to climb, prick!”
Cove launched the branch out from the tree like a spear. It snagged briefly, then flew to the ground, landing a couple of metres away from Dylan.
He stared at it for a few seconds, fearing what he would see. Kat liked Merino active wool clothing, said it was warm and breathable and didn’t smell. She also liked bright colours. This had been green, once. It was faded now.
“Got it,” Selina said.
“Get your ass back down here,” Dylan called up. “You fall now and I’ll kill you myself.”
Cove descended, and the others gathered around Selina as she picked up the snapped branch and slowly unfurled the piece of cloth tied to it. It was holed, sun-bleached, tattered. It might once have been a shirt, short-sleeved cotton. Dylan was relieved to note it was not something that Kat would likely wear.
“Is that oil?” Lucy asked. The material was discoloured here and there in a random splash pattern.
“Could be anything.” Selina lifted the shirt closer. “Oil. Bird shit.”
“It’s blood,” Aaron said. None of them questioned or doubted him.
“How old?” Jenn asked. Dylan knew what she was thinking, but he didn’t believe Kat would have come in with a team wearing anything like this. It was casual wear, not sports clothing.
Aaron took the fabric from Selina and examined it, pulling at it. A soft rip signalled its release from the stick. Dylan saw material fragments floating in the sunlight like dust. “Old,” Aaron said. “Probably years.” He searched for tags or any printing but found none. It was a rough garment. The dark spatters that might have been blood were extensive.
“Those tears,” Dylan said. “Bullet holes?”
“No,” Aaron said, but he offered no other explanation.
“Someone put them up there,” Cove panted, appearing beside them. “That’s not an easy climb, and the others are just as inaccessible, but they were definitely tied onto the branches. They didn’t just blow up there in the wind, or float down from outside the ravine.”
“Why?” Gee said. “Who’d go to the trouble?”
“A warning?” Jenn asked.
No one responded to that. Aaron dropped the shirt and none of them wanted to pick it up again.
Eager to leave, they started climbing up the opposite side of the ravine. Cove led the way again, and it was an easy ascent, with a profusion of trees, roots and rocky outcroppings to help them on their way.
Dylan was aware that Aaron was climbing close behind him, and when they were out of earshot of everyone else, he spoke.
“Knife holes,” Aaron said, voice low. “Or maybe claws. Definitely not bullets.”
“But old,” Dylan said.
“Yeah. Old.”
They reached the top of the steep climb around mid-afternoon. While they took a short break to drink and refuel, Dylan consulted Lucy’s compass and took readings against his map, then established their direction of travel.
A few minutes later Lucy and Cove took the lead as they started across a more rugged landscape of ravines and boulder fields, all covered with the lush forest that characterised Eden. Whenever they arrived at difficult ascents or descents Cove paused to spy out a solution. Lucy stayed close to him because she had the compass, and now she carried Dylan’s bound map of Eden. He’d spent some time searching for the definitive maps of their intended route from before it had been designated a Virgin Zone. Downloading these satellite maps in as large a scale as possible, enlarging some more, then printing and binding them was something he’d done for other expeditions, but this one had been the hardest to pin down. Eden was over half a century old, and when it was abandoned and closed down not all satellite mapping had been easily discoverable online. As with other Zones, one process involved in its establishment by the United Zone Council was an intentional removal of all recorded maps from public access. There was a black market in Zone information, but the older the Zone, the less reliable the data. He’d become adept at assessing the quality of intelligence on offer, though often with the black marketeers, the word intelligence was a stretch.
The fallibility of these maps had already proven itself with the confusion over the bridge location. There would be more.
They pushed on across the tough landscape until early evening. There was little chat, but the air between them was comfortable. As a team they came from different backgrounds and countries, and had diverse histories, but once drawn back together it never took long for the outside world to fade, and for them to form again into a tight unit. Even Lucy and Cove seemed to be getting on better. Indulging their individual passions melded them as a team, pushing them close in strange and complex ways that seemed to fit with a perfection Dylan had never experienced before. That’s what made them function so well. Negotiating difficult terrains in comfortable silence gave them the feel of a well-oiled, quality machine.
When he suggested it was time to pause for a rest and food, Gee and Selina ran on ahead to find a suitable site. They returned a few minutes later, beaming.
“Oh, you are so gonna love this,” Selina said.
“More bullets and bloodstained clothing?” Lucy asked.
“Even better than that,” Gee said. “Come and see.”
Selina gave nothing away as Dylan walked beside her. “Just a nice view,” was all she said. They climbed a wooded rise towards a ridgeline where trees were sparse, the slope steep and rocky, sharp with dangerous edges. Cove stumbled once and cursed. Dylan could see how tired they all were. A rest was overdue, and he decided he’d suggest an hour to eat before they drove on another few hours into the night.
“Woah,” he heard from up ahead. Jenn and Aaron had reached the ridge with Gee, and his daughter turned and looked for him, beaming. “Dad. It’s beautiful.”
The ridge ended in a sheer drop, and beyond was mile upon mile of open forest and gently rolling hills, through which the river meandered. But it was the view into the distance that made them all catch their breath.
The land rose into the first of the higher mountains twenty miles to the north, and now the sinking sun was striking them at just the right angle to set them aflame. A wind drove down from beyond the peaks, and they were shedding fallen snow and ice crystals into the air. These cool clouds caught the dusky sunlight, and a blaze of fiery colours shimmered back and forth above the whole range, pulsing and changing as the ice clouds flowed and drifted. Dylan had seen the aurora borealis several times, and this view rivalled it in colour and splendour.
“I suddenly feel so small,” Gee said.
“You’re tiny,” Cove said.
The seven of them stood along the ridge and marvelled at the display. It occurred to Dylan that they should not be seeing this. Eden was no longer a place for people, and that was not merely because the authorities had deemed it so. It felt like a land unknown and unknowable to humankind. Not only had society consciously abandoned this place, but Eden had shrugged its shoulders and shed itself of the memory of people. It was moving on, expanding, evolving without human problems to mar its way, and this incredible display was never meant to be seen.
Gee’s right, we’re small, he thought. We’re so small we’re not even here. Selina slid her hand around his, and he knew she was thinking the same. He glanced sidelong at her and she was smiling at the view, all the colours of the wild reflected in her eyes.
“Like it’s burning us away,” Lucy said.
“This is the place,” Dylan said. “One hour, refuel and rest.”
“Wish I had a camera,” Lucy said.
“I don’t,” Selina said. She was the first to sit, and by the time the others relaxed and passed around energy bars and food, she was sketching in her book.
17
“There are rumours of scientific teams living full-time in Zona Smerti, which goes against everything the Virgin Zones were established for in the first place. Observation and sampling are forbidden by the United Zone Council and the International Virgin Zone Accord, but Russia denies that anything untoward is occurring. At the same time, information that these teams gather is filtering out, and I challenge you to present me with any scientist who wouldn’t give their right arm to observe it. There are also stories of some of these teams turning violent, going mad, disappearing off the face of the Earth. And that in itself offers us valuable insight into how these places are both affecting and evolving away from humankind.”
Professor Amara Patel, Natural History Museum, London
The beautiful display over the mountain range almost helped Jenn forget the old clothing they had found, and the bullet casings, and the idea that there was more wrong with Eden than any of them yet knew. It wasn’t the first Zone where they’d come across signs of infiltration and trouble, but this place felt less welcoming of humans than anywhere she had ever been. Creatures acted strangely around them, and though they’d seen signs of larger mammals, they remained elusive. Hiding, perhaps. Or stalking. She was starting to wonder what her mother had led her into.
Seeing the burning skies settled a sense of peace in her heart. Nature being beautiful for its own sake was calming, and it fed her natural optimism. She preferred to see the colour in things, not shades of grey.
Then came the shouting, and her heart sank, and the blaze above the distant mountains seemed to pulse and glow with the beat of Eden’s mysterious life.
Gee ran back along the ridge towards them, belt unbuckled, spade swinging from one hand. The others scrambled to their feet, and Cove took a few steps towards him.
“Sorry,” Gee said. “Sorry.” His shout had been loud but unclear. A meaningless call.
“What the hell?” her dad demanded. Jenn stood close to Aaron. She wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be shivering.
“I thought it was just more clothes to begin with,” Gee said, as he clipped his belt tight and folded the spade.
“Where?” Cove asked.
Gee turned and looked back over his shoulder.
“Lead the way,” her father said, and Jenn’s heart sank at the resignation in his voice.
Mum, she thought. It’s Mum. That’s why Gee’s not saying anything.
They followed him back along the ridge and around a bluff, into a dark, narrow cleft where a few trees grew and a stream flowed. The sides were steep but not high, and no more than fifteen metres apart. At the far end a waterfall tumbled from the higher ridge, and the sound filled the hollow with constant whispers.
Gee led them along the course of the stream past the first few trees, then stopped and pointed up.
For a second Jenn couldn’t bring herself to look. She pressed her lips tight and stared at her father’s back as he aimed his head torch where Gee was indicating. Full sunset was still half an hour away, but the ravine walls cast deep shadows.
No one spoke. Jenn’s life hung poised between past and future, a world with an absent mother, and one with a dead one.
When she finally looked up her knees almost sagged with relief. Then came the guilt. It wasn’t her mother up there, but it was someone’s son, husband or father.
