No time.
Chris’s mind flashed to her father, to Luke, to Emir.
There was never enough time.
She turned and ran into the darkly tangled garden. Her feet sprang over knotted grasses and creeping moss, while hanging vines strung the trees like succulent tinsel. Around her, blue-black leaves glistened beside golden barked saplings. Silvery ferns undulated in unseen breezes, heart-shaped leaves shimmered with sticky sap, groves of miniature firs stood like plush toys on the forest floor, and trees with chalky red branches dusted the undergrowth.
Unimaginable wonders flew past her as she ran, and each one called to her like a siren on the seas. A snow-white bush radiated like a giant dandelion puff, but onwards she ran. Tendrils of long blue grass rippled like undersea antennae, and still she forged on. A glassy creeper roped across her path, bottle-green with translucent leaves, but she ducked under it, her steps unbroken.
As Chris ran desperately through the garden, she realised that Emir had been right—there was no fruit. In fact, she couldn’t see any flowers. Or bees. She raced from tree to towering tree, all unfamiliar, all barren of fruit. Chris looked up helplessly into the shaft of light, and she could see a distant, glowing pinprick in the darkness. It seemed to flicker.
The ground shook again, more violently, and Chris stumbled into a nearby bush. She had no idea how to find the Tree of Life. Somewhat naively, she had expected it to be self-evident—perhaps surrounded by a golden fence with a sign saying, “Keep out. This means you, Adam.” Or perhaps a shaft of light, but a little narrower. Or maybe a test involving three trees—one of them gold, one of them silver, and one of them an apple tree.
As Chris stumbled through the garden, she could feel her adrenaline flagging. Hopelessness clawed at her, and it was so tempting to just crawl into one of those fluffy yellow bushes and let the sky fall. However, she had promised her father she would be back. She had promised Luke she would come for him. And Emir…
Chris had wanted to find the Tree of Life, and here she was.
Now find it
.
Mosses, grasses, bushes streamed past. Trees soared and twisted and spread across what should have been sky. Her feet crunched and padded and pounded across the island, while the ground shook beneath her. She suddenly skidded to a stop, her gaze caught by something hanging from a black, twisted branch.
The tree was bent and stunted, the thick trunk branching out into a massive halo of fractals. It had bark the colour of old tar, and the surface was wrinkled beyond recognition. The leaves were sparse, tinted a green so dark it took a close inspection to detect any trace of colour. On a single, far branch, a lone object hung. At first glance, Chris had thought it was a wasps’ nest—sunken and irregular, about the size of a pinecone and the colour of soot.
It dangled motionless, and as she walked closer, she could see it was somehow growing from the dried, gnarled branch.
The first fruit.
It had to be.
As Chris began to climb the knotted trunk, she tried to ignore the aches stabbing through her body. Her fingers grasped at coarse bark, and sharp twigs scratched across her skin. She climbed higher still, stretching from one tree limb to another, crawling towards the distant fruit. As she crept over the twisted wood, the melted soles of her shoes suddenly slipped on the bark, and she had to grab a branch quickly to stop from plummeting to the ground far below. Awkwardly, she kicked off her boots, her bare feet affording a better grip on the tree.
This had better be the Tree of Life
, thought Chris.
Because we don’t need the Knowledge one again
.
Higher still, and the ground drew away until she could see the misshapen, oval fruit hanging only metres away, where the branch became dangerously slender. The tree creaked ominously as she crept slowly forward, pieces of bark flaking off beneath her hands. She reached her arm forward, edging slowly closer.
How long does it take for someone to bleed to death?
Chris pushed everything from her mind except the blackened fruit hanging just beyond her fingertips. She felt the brittle branch bending under her weight, a cracking sound running along the length of the wood.
You’re going to get that fruit if you have to take the whole branch with you
, thought Chris.
Her arm stretched out so far she could almost feel it pop from its socket. Her fingertips brushed the skin of the fruit, and she crept just a little farther. The wood cracked loudly, and she felt the branch jerk beneath her as her hand wrapped around the fruit. Suddenly, there was an almighty roar from the darkness, and the sound of splintering rock thundered through the caverns.
The ground heaved, and with a shrill crack the branch gave way beneath Chris. Flinging out her free arm, she leapt for another branch. As the brittle, black branch fell away into the undergrowth, she clung to a fork in the tree, her hand clasped firmly around the fruit.
It felt heavy and solid in her hand, despite its shrunken appearance. The skin was tough and leathery, lightly dusted with a pale powder. It looked primeval—as though the tree had spent eons pouring its own life into this one fruit. It felt faintly warm in her hand, like a stone which had been lying in the sun.
Climbing down was a lot harder than climbing up, which was something that cats also often discovered. Chris slid much of the way down, ignoring her cuts and scrapes as she hit the ground running. Her feet pounded over earth and stones as the island rumbled louder, the fruit still grasped firmly in her hand. Small shards of rock began to shower down from the darkness like petrified rain.
The rumbling from overhead was merging now with an unnatural humming noise, and as Chris glanced upwards she thought she saw a distant searchlight flickering through the darkness.
Of course Marrick would have backup
, thought Chris.
Her lungs burned, her limbs screamed, and Chris couldn’t tell if it was sweat or blood that ran down her face and arms. As she ran, she felt a strange, calm focus sweep through her. Everything was so much simpler than she had believed. Life was full of so much wonder, so much pain, and so many extraordinary things to explore and share, that it was easy to get tangled up in what you thought you wanted. Trying to reconcile time, and life, and all the things you wanted to do, could send you spinning in frustrated circles. What you had to do was prioritise.
As Chris burst from the undergrowth into the narrow clearing by the bridge, Marrick swung her gun up. With a tight sense of relief, Chris saw Emir still kneeling on the dirt, hunched and sickeningly pale. The pool of blood had almost reached Marrick’s boots. A gale seemed to be descending on them, whipping Chris’s hair around her face as the ground shook beneath them.
She saw Marrick’s gaze quickly measuring up the scene, flicking from the fruit in Chris’s hand, to the searchlight flashing above, to Emir kneeling on the dirt.
It was the smile that gave it away. Small. Atrophied. An economic smile, belonging to someone whose values were rationalised, quantified, and cost-analysed to such an extent that satisfaction became something you rated on a survey, rather than felt.
Chris knew there would be no announcement. No declaration of “Well, I have no need of you now!” There would be no gloating, no exposition, no warning. Just—
Smooth. Precise. Nothing wasted.
Marrick’s arm swung around.
Her finger was already pulling the trigger by the time the barrel reached Emir’s head. His gaze flashed upwards, in that moment just before it happened, when you knew—
All of creation flashed before Chris’s eyes, and while her mind reeled, her arm moved—
And the blackened fruit arced through the air, flung from outstretched fingers. It spun through the dark space, turning almost in slow motion, a kick of light along its edge.
It struck Marrick squarely on the temple, sending her reeling backwards. Her finger clenched on the trigger as she stumbled, her foot skidding on the edge of the crumbling chasm. Her arms flailed for balance as the island pitched violently.
There was a look in her eyes, in that moment, when you knew—
Gravity took hold and Marrick continued falling backwards, over the edge of the cliff and into the endless darkness, the shrivelled fruit tumbling after her. Rumbling and cracking noises filled the air as rocks landed around Chris and Emir like a miniature meteor shower, the air whipping violently. Emir dragged his eyes from the abyss and looked at Chris.
She knelt beside him, frantically wrapping bandages around his calf.
“Chris…” said Emir.
Then her arms were around him, hauling him to his feet.
“Can you walk?” She unzipped the front of his suit. “Do you have some kind of I.D. or dog tags?”
Emir winced, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a rectangular SinaCorp pass. It was printed with biometric data and featured an extremely flattering photo. Chris grabbed the pass and waved it at the searchlight.
“I hope they didn’t see Marrick fall over the edge,” said Chris through gritted teeth.
Whether or not the rescue craft had seen Marrick’s unfortunate exit, a black, synthetic rope ladder unravelled, studded with small lights. The ladder swung several metres above the ground, ribboning erratically, as though the rescue craft couldn’t descend any lower and was having difficulty avoiding falling debris.
“Lower!” yelled Chris, waving the pass at the rescue craft. “We have injured crew!”
“If you get on my shoulders…” began Emir, but then he saw the look in her eyes.
As the island rocked again, the stumps securing the bridge began to pull from the ground.
“You can make it,” said Chris. “You’re awesome, remember?”
Suddenly, she hugged him tightly, as though that one hug could express all the things she’d felt in those absent years. Then she pulled away, already running towards the darkness.
“Chris!” yelled Emir.
But the island heaved, banking sharply beneath his feet. Emir watched helplessly as Chris ran towards the bridge, and he forced himself to turn back to the swinging rope ladder. With a deep breath, he let everything around him fade except that ladder, twisting against the darkness. The world blurred as he sprinted across the clearing, his feet barely touching the ground as he picked up speed. At the last moment, his knees bent into a tight crouch, and he launched hard against the ground, leaping upwards with his arms outstretched.
As the island sank beneath him, crumbling into the chasm, Emir’s hand grasped the lowest rung of the ladder. He felt the reassuring grip of SinaCorp synthetics, and he slowly hauled himself towards the cabin of the oddly shaped helicopter. Hand over hand, he climbed the ladder, his legs dangling over the groaning abyss.
He finally reached the base of the cabin doorway, and Emir saw the pilot lean out over him.
“What the hell is she doing?” yelled Hoyle.
Emir looked over his shoulder at the figure running across the collapsing rope bridge.
“You wouldn’t understand,” said Emir.
19
There was mottled light and darkness, the roar of waves, and purring thunder. Luke imagined he saw shafts of light and shadows circling eaves of stone. There was no point in wondering what happened next, or hoping for something different—things would just happen. As his blood sank into the sand, the warmth was steadily seeping away, turning into an icy burning.
And then he heard footsteps. Not the calm, measured footsteps of a grim reaper, or the soft, loving footsteps of someone bringing comfort, but the mad, desperate footsteps of someone trying to outrun a falling rope bridge.
Luke’s eyes opened a slit, and he turned his head weakly towards the noise. Through dim, blurry vision, he thought he could see someone running across the bridge towards him. It looked like Chris. She looked as though someone had put her through a cement mixer full of leaf litter and rocks. It also looked as though the distant island was sinking into the abyss and taking the rope bridge with it. It looked like Chris was trying to run across it despite the former occurring.
Luke wasn’t surprised. He had known from the moment they’d met that she sparked with some kind of madness. The kind that made people leave their safe, comfortable homes and go on crazy adventures that ended in fatal gunshot wounds and caverns collapsing around them. Chris had that indefatigable optimism that was only one step away from being institutionalised—
Oh, my God
, realised Luke.
She’s coming back for me
.
20
As the island sank behind her, Chris could feel the bridge twisting violently along its length. Her bare feet pounded across the boards, slamming over the splintered wood with obstinate determination. She had never excelled at physics, and her knowledge of engineering was limited to building planter shelves. This was possibly why, in her head, the bridge would collapse behind her neatly like a set of sequentially pressed piano keys.
Unfortunately, rope bridges did not collapse like that. Chris could feel the bridge tilting dangerously as she raced towards the end, and she found herself running at a steeper and steeper angle as the cavern loomed closer. She could see Luke, still lying crumpled on the dirt, and she imagined that his head was turned towards her, waiting for her to fulfil her promise.
Metres from the edge of the cavern, she felt the planks give way beneath her feet, the ropes snapping from the weight of the falling bridge. As Chris leapt desperately for the edge of the cliff, she was already tumbling. Her stomach lurched and her heart jumped into her throat, seeming to lodge in her windpipe. Her arms flailed upwards, her hands reaching for the cliff, still a foot too short.
She started to fall.
In that suspended moment, when there was nothing beneath her but endless abyss, and nothing in her hands except air, her life didn’t flash before her eyes. Her last thought was:
I hope someone tells my dad I love him
.
Chris felt a hand grab her wrist, and she slammed into the side of the cliff, hanging over the emptiness. She looked up and saw Luke leaning over the edge, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, his knuckles white. His pupils were pinpricks.