by P. J. Hoover
“They’re glowing,” he says.
I nod. “It’s the same principle as fireflies or glowworms. Light without heat, created by chemical reactions within small animals.”
“So you have mushed up fireflies on your hands?” he says.
“Something like that,” I say, rubbing it on his shoulder. “But these are smaller. Like algae. Alone, it wouldn’t seem like much, but billions and billions of these creatures, and it could light up this entire world.”
“That’s incredible,” Ethan says.
“I know. Even though I get the whole science of it, the evolution that had to occur to create this place boggles my mind,” I say.
“Unless it wasn’t evolution,” Ethan says.
“You think this is proof?”
He nods. “An entire ecosystem created by the Code of Enoch. What if whoever brought the Code down here designed this, so what we’re seeing is the possibilities of what can be done?”
I spin in a slow circle, taking in the world around us, from the plants to the ocean to the strange creatures that watch us. If Ethan’s right, if the Code of Enoch really is responsible for everything I see around me, then its power goes beyond anything I could have even imagined.
“It’s unbelievable,” I say. “I’ve studied science my entire life, and this defies anything I’ve ever seen.”
“And yet it’s here,” Ethan says.
We walk from the shoreline toward the trees. Some have grown so large, that what I know of trees’ lifespans, I’d have to guess that they’re thousands of years old, thick and twisted and strong.
“Uncle Randall would love to have seen this. And Lucas. This is the kind of place he’d sit and paint forever.” I pull my phone from the bag so I can take a picture because they are never going to believe it. But when I try to turn the phone on, it’s totally dead, probably from all the moisture in the air. I only hope the memory is still intact.
“You’ll have to tell them about it when you get back,” Ethan says.
“I’ll never do it justice.”
“Try,” Ethan says. “Just for a second.” He steps behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I cross my arms over his. “Close your eyes, Hannah. Breathe deep.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the salty warm air around us. It’s like a mix between a beach and a rainforest.
“Listen to the birds and the wind,” Ethan says. “Pick out the scents. Think about how it makes you feel.”
Though it seems impossible, the world feels almost more alive with my eyes closed. I take another breath and then another, relaxing against Ethan’s chest, trying to capture this moment and keep it with me always. Here, this place, it’s filled with freedom. Possibilities. The belief that anything is possible. This … this is what I’ll bring back to Uncle Randall and Lucas. I let the moment sink into my soul.
“Did you get it?” Ethan asks.
I take one last breath and open my eyes, turning to face him. “It’s like a miracle … this whole place.”
“I know,” Ethan says. “And maybe this is the corniest thing I’ve ever said in my life, but I’m so happy I can share it with you.”
I squeeze his hand, and then I let it go because as much as I would love for this to be our sole purpose for being here, I have to find my parents. We have to press on.
The trees are spaced apart, leaving plenty of room for us to roam side by side between them, almost like someone has planned out trails to follow, like a scenic walk. The farther we go into the trees, the more noticeable this becomes. The path bends and turns, and where it does, flowers grow and roots cut up out of the ground, providing natural benches. The ground here is made of soft grass that depresses slightly under our steps. We move deeper into the forest, until when I look back, I can hardly see the ocean. Then we come to a clearing in the trees.
It’s filled with graves.
CHAPTER 28
MY HEART RACES AS A MIXTURE OF EMOTIONS FLOODS THROUGH ME. “People have been here.”
“People are buried here,” Ethan says.
People like my parents? I can’t voice the thought that, of the handful of graves before us, two of them could contain Mom and Dad. But my thoughts are too strong. I sink to the ground and can’t stop from shaking. I’ve tried to be so strong. I was so strong, but then Uncle Randall did the unthinkable. He gave me hope. Hope that they were still alive, and it was a hope I held on to. But now, looking out at the graves, the dread that fills my stomach threatens to destroy every bit of optimism inside me.
“It’s okay, Hannah,” Ethan says, squatting down next to me and putting his arms around me.
“They could be dead,” I say, forcing my words out amid my fear.
“But they could also be alive,” Ethan says.
This can’t be happening. I can’t let them have died. Not when I’ve gotten this close.
“I hate to be the logical voice in all this. You always do that so well,” Ethan says. “But somebody actually had to dig these graves. Whoever’s buried here, they can’t be the last ones.”
My shaking stops briefly as I let his words sink in. Of course, he’s right. Why am I jumping to the worst conclusion possible? I can’t let go of my hope that easily.
“We should see if the gravestones say anything.” I wrap my arms around my stomach almost like they’ll help hold me together if I find something I don’t want to.
Ethan and I stand, but before I walk forward to read the stones, I press my head against his chest. “Thank you for being here with me,” I say.
He grabs my hand and squeezes it.
We walk forward, through the tall grass that skirts the graveyard. Ghostly whispers seem to come from the forest of trees around us, whispering words I can’t understand. But it’s only the wind. In the center of the clearing, the grass is low, almost like it’s been manicured that way. There are only about ten or twelve graves in all. I close my eyes and summon up my confidence before it slips away again. I can do this. I have to. I dare to unwrap my arms from around me, and we squat down next to the first grave.
The stone is worn, so the symbols are nearly impossible to read. Ethan traces his fingers over them, though, almost like he’s reading braille. The wind continues to move through the trees, like voices of the dead.
“Pretty sure it’s some variant of Hebrew, like the first scroll we found,” Ethan says. “But it’s hard to make out.” He closes his eyes, almost as if that will help him concentrate. His fingers trace the lines. “I think …” His words trail off.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think it says Noah.”
He points to a few worn symbols that remind me of the writing we saw on some of the scrolls.
The awe that fills his voice reflects the astonishment that runs through me. “Noah is buried here?” I say.
“Maybe, Hannah. I don’t know. I told you that sounds crazy.”
The wind seems to whisper its agreement, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending chills through me.
I shake my head. “Maybe not. What about these others? Can you read them?”
He does the same thing as with the first gravestone, feeling the symbols and letters when they’re worn down too much. Utnapishtim. Ziudsura. Deucalion. Manu. They’re all here, buried in the ground of this world that shouldn’t exist.
“The flood heroes are here,” I say. “The ones from the stories.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Ethan says. “Even seeing it here.”
We’ve looked at nearly all of them, but there are still two graves left. My stomach clenches when I realize that these two are newer than any of the others.
“I can’t look,” I say. Any confidence I may have had slips away.
Ethan steps to the graves. I watch his face, see his lips move as he reads them. I wait for some sign in his face that he’s about to deliver bad news. But it never comes.
“These aren’t your
parents, Hannah,” Ethan says.
Relief floods me. If my parents are here, then they aren’t dead. Or at least not buried here.
“Who’s buried here?” I ask. “They look pretty recent.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I don’t recognize the names.”
Okay, good. That’s good. It’s not my parents. Which means that if they are here, they could still be alive. And they could be in trouble.
We continue walking, down the path. The forest continues beyond the clearing as deep as my eyes can see. But in the middle of it, stretching far above into the sky, is one tree that for some reason has grown beyond all the others.
It’s where we’re supposed to go.
We pass through the clearing and on toward the tree, but as it gets closer, my eyes don’t want to believe what I’m seeing. One impossibility seems to build onto the next here. “It must be thousands of years old.”
The tree looks like it’s some type of olive tree. The trunk itself must be thirty feet wide, with gnarled gray bark and branches that twist and shoot into the air above like an out-of-control chia plant. Patched between the branches are wooden shingles.
“It’s a house,” Ethan says.
“So where’s the door?” I say.
Birds chirp in the woods around us, but as we get closer to the massive tree, their song begins to sound more frantic, almost like a warning. Ethan must sense it, too, because he tugs on my arm to stop me.
“We need to be careful,” he whispers.
I know he’s right, but I also know that each step we take, we’re getting closer to the end of this mystery. If my parents are here, this is where they’ll be.
“I’ll be careful,” I whisper back. “I promise.”
“Let me go first,” he says.
“You’re kidding, right?”
His face flashes with … anger? “Hannah, why can’t you let anyone else do anything for you? Why do you always have to be the one to go first? To never accept help from others?”
“Because I don’t need help from others,” I say.
“It’s okay to need help,” Ethan says.
“I know it is,” I say. “But I’m still not letting you go first. These are my parents.”
Ethan presses his fingers to his eyebrows in frustration. “Fine, but stay close.”
Together we continue the rest of the way to the giant olive tree, and we skirt around it slowly. On the complete opposite side is an arched opening, revealing a hollowed-out interior. Dumped around the arched opening is camping and hiking gear like Ethan and I carry. It’s state-of-the-art, just like we have. There are two large packs, so big that I almost don’t see our outfitter Scott motionless on the ground next to them.
I rush over to where Scott lies on the grass and squat down next to him.
“Scott?” I say, shaking him.
He doesn’t move. And though I’ve never seen a dead body, I’ve been around dying animals enough to know that it’s too late for Scott. His body is limp, and his neck is turned at a funny angle. Panic hits me. We’d just seen him alive, not two weeks ago. Whoever hired him has killed him.
CHAPTER 29
“HE’S DEAD,” I SAY TO ETHAN AS HE JOINS ME. MY HANDS HOVER above Scott because I can’t bring myself to believe that he’s really gone. That someone would have killed him. But this also means that whoever got here ahead of us will absolutely kill for the Code of Enoch.
“He could have fallen,” Ethan says, but his voice sounds weak, like even he doesn’t believe it.
“Oh god, my parents.” If they’re inside, they’re in serious trouble. I pull my pack off and quietly set it on the ground.
“Just wait, Hannah,” Ethan says. “We need to be careful.”
“We need to get inside,” I say. Before he can even try to talk me out of it, I step around the backpacks and into the arched opening of the olive tree.
The inside has been carved out nearly completely, creating a huge open space. The interior of the tree, like the world outside it, glows from the bioluminescent life forms, and moss covers the walls here, too, providing warmth. There is no one around, as if whoever does live here has vanished. But just at the edge of my hearing, voices begin to drift my way.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Ethan whispers as he comes up beside me.
I’m overwhelmed with thankfulness that he is here. That I’m not alone. “I can’t tell. It sounds like arguing.”
At first glance, the carved-out tree seems devoid of anything. But then I notice, at the edges of the tree, a staircase spiraling down, into the earth below. I nod in the direction of the top of the steps, and we tiptoe over.
I place a finger to my lips, to let him know we need to be quiet. At this point, surprise may be the only thing on our side. It’s not like we’ve brought weapons along to fight.
I sneak down, one step at a time, cursing our giant caving boots. Each footfall of ours sounds like a wooly mammoth. The steps spiral around the perimeter of the tree though a wall prevents me from seeing what’s below. It’s only after we’ve made a complete turn of the tree, that I realize what we’ve walked into. By then it is too late.
Three people stand in a large underground room. One wears hiking gear and must have been the one who hired Scott to lead him down here. The one who killed Scott. The one who will kill us if we aren’t smart. My eyes shift to the other two, and I recognize them immediately.
“Mom? Dad?” I say before I can stop myself. Every bit of me wants to run across the room, warn them about the danger they’re in.
At my words, all eyes shift my way. My parents’ eyes fill with panic. But they don’t say anything. Instead they shift their gaze to Ethan as he joins me at the bottom of the steps. But instead of looking at my parents, Ethan stares at the man who must be here on behalf of Amino Corp.
“Dad?” Ethan says.
His voice echoes the denial that floods my mind. His father can’t be the one who is here. He may have been interested in the Code of Enoch, may have tried to gather all the pieces for his boss, Doctor Bingham, but is he the kind of person who would kill for it?
“You shouldn’t be here, Ethan,” the man who, now that I see him, I recognize as an older version of the man I saw in the old photos. “Neither of you should be here. You weren’t supposed to make it this far. I left the false path, hoping you would turn back. I pulled the rigging across the river.”
“You killed Scott,” I say. I still can’t believe it. “How could you do that?”
Ethan’s dad’s eyes widen. “I didn’t kill him. I swear. It was an accident. I tried to help.”
“What kind of accident?” I say. “Because as near as I can tell, his neck’s been snapped.”
“He was climbing the tree, trying to look inside,” Ethan’s dad says. “But the tree. It came alive. It threw him to the ground. I swear it did.”
I want to believe him. If the tree is like everything else around here, almost sentient, then maybe it’s possible. But still … his eyes dart back and forth between Ethan and me.
“Oh god, Hannah, you can’t be here. You have to leave,” Mom says. She stays where she is, next to Dad, shifting backward just the smallest amount. Her slight movement is enough that I can see something behind her. A stone tablet.
The Code of Enoch.
The world seems to freeze around me, and for a moment, it’s just me and the tablet alone in this room. It calls me. It tells me all the wonderful things it is capable of doing. Of creating. It makes me believe anything is possible.
The world returns. This must be the Code. What we are looking for. And even in the tense situation, so many thoughts flow through me in that moment. I’ve found my parents. They are alive. Protecting the Code of Enoch. Which is real. Except everything that Ethan and I have done to find it has led his father here, too. Whatever happens, this is all our fault.
“Hannah, your mother’s right,” Dad says, and his face is pained and filled with love all at the same time. “Y
ou need to leave.”
Oh, how I’ve missed that face. I want nothing more than to rush over and hug them both. To tell them how much I love them. I want them returned to me now. I want them to reverse time and make them never leave me in the first place.
“I came to find you,” I say weakly.
Mom’s face is ashen. “You shouldn’t have. It’s too dangerous.”
Ethan’s dad looks to Mom. “It’s not too dangerous. And it’s been hidden long enough. You two stopped me before, something I will never as long as I live forgive you for. Because of you Caden died. But this time you won’t get in the way of bringing the Code back to the real world where it belongs, not hidden away in some fantasyland doing no one any good at all. This time I will make things right. In the hands of a company like Amino Corp, this thing could save millions of lives. People don’t have to die like Caden did.”
Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “Stephen, no matter how much you want it to, it won’t bring back Caden. It can’t do that. And I’m so sorry.”
Mom’s tears only fuel Ethan’s dad’s anger. “Don’t you think I know that? Of course it won’t bring him back. But it can prevent so many others from having to suffer like he did. Like we’ve suffered since he died. Our son. You ripped our son from us. You may as well have killed him yourself.”
“Dad, Caden got sick,” Ethan says. “That happens.”
Ethan’s dad is so angry that he’s shaking. “He could have been healed except they stood in our way. You would have a brother right now if they hadn’t stopped me before. Instead, he’s dead.”
Ethan opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he closes it as if he changes his mind. My heart breaks at the fact that the Olivers lost their son, but my parents did what they felt was right for the world, not just for Caden.
Finally, Ethan says, “Could it really have healed him?”
Mr. Oliver levels his eyes on my parents. “Yes. It really could have. And even though our son will never smile again, we can still use the Code to heal others. To save so many. Cancer. AIDS. Ebola. These things will become a remnant of the past. Sickness will be only a memory. We can repair DNA strands, we can regrow organs. All these things are possible and more.”
