by Erica Rue
“The Farmer. All his lies. All for con—” he gasped, “—control. I never meant—”
“Where are the others? How many are left?”
“Raynor Farm. But things are changing.”
“What do you mean they’re changing? What are they planning?” Cora leaned in closer, but the stretcher had arrived along with a small crowd. Her time was up. She would get more information in the morning, but she had the most important piece. She knew where the Green Cloaks’ base of operations was.
She turned to Lithia. “I’m going to the Green Cloak hideout.”
“But what if he was lying? What if it’s a trap?” Lithia replied.
“I have nothing to lose,” Cora said. “Plus, I don’t plan on going alone.”
7. DIONE
Dione had been searching for Brian for nearly half an hour. She had asked Sam for help tracking his communicator, but the AI told her she was at capacity and unable to help until later. She supposed this was what Zane had warned them about. At least in the shade of the trees it was cooler, if more ominous.
She’d gone on plenty of hikes in wild areas back home, but she had never felt anxious like she did now. Every now and then, her fingers began to ache, and she’d realize she was clutching the stun rifle again.
She couldn’t find Brian. He couldn’t have gotten that far in, but she didn’t know which direction he’d taken. She’d heard him yell, after all. Maybe she had imagined it, or it hadn’t been a big deal after all, like a stubbed toe.
Or maybe something got him. She wished that particular voice in her head would shut up. It was the voice that kept telling her that there had been movement in the shadows to her left, or that the giant red welt on her arm had come from a deadly insect and that her hours were already numbered. She risked calling out his name again.
“Brian!” she shouted into the trees.
She waited, trying to discern any hint of a human sound mixed in with the background noise of bugs and birds. She heard a groan.
It’s just a frog. Probably venomous.
No, definitely a human groan. She headed toward the sound, afraid of what she might find.
A minute later, she discovered him, face up on the ground, covered in moss and dirt. A large tree loomed above him. “Brian!” she called. No response. Dione grappled with the instinct that urged her forward to check on him and took time to survey the scene.
He wasn’t bleeding, at least not that she could see. She inhaled the damp air, noting the scent of salt and rotting leaves. Maybe even a rotting animal? She looked around and saw a few dead rodents decaying in the leaves. She looked up at the tree. A variety of birds perched among the branches, which were covered in beautiful nets of hanging moss that glistened with moisture. Was this the kind of tree whose sap was so toxic it could kill? Were those birds immune? It seemed unlikely that so many different species would have adapted to it, but these were not normal circumstances. Who knew what Jameson had done?
She had to get Brian away from the tree. She reached out to grab a handful of moss that covered Brian’s neck, but the second her finger tips brushed against it, she realized she had made a mistake.
She screamed in pain, as did Brian, eyes suddenly wide awake in agony. Nothing had hurt this much before. No bug bite, no broken bone, not even the Ven’s scratch on her back. She felt dizzy and realized that she was panting. She was barely aware of the birds flapping away, startled by their screams. Brian twitched, but seemed to be unconscious again. It seemed like moving the moss had caused him more pain.
She stared at her hand, afraid to touch anything. Swollen red lines appeared on her fingers. Were oils from the moss causing this reaction, like poison ivy?
She pulled out her water bottle, but without soap to bind to the oil, it wouldn’t do much good. She didn’t care. A few seconds of cool relief might help her think.
Pouring water across her fingers was like fuel to a fire. She yelped as the pain intensified. What the hell was causing this reaction? With trembling hands, she searched the files of nightmares that Lithia had sent with no luck. In a moment of clarity, she called Sam. Maybe she would answer this time.
“Sam, I really need your help.”
“I can assist you briefly. What’s wrong?”
“There’s some kind of moss here,” Dione said. “It stings and burns when you touch it. The reaction is almost instantaneous. Water makes it worse. It doesn’t match anything in the files Lithia sent me. Any ideas?”
“Let me check,” Sam replied.
In the intervening silence, Dione did her best not to think about the throbbing pain in her fingers. She glanced down at Brian. His chest was rising and falling, too fast for someone unconscious. His hands were marred by the same welts as hers. He must have tried to remove the moss as well. What had happened? Had he been making his way through the forest, only to run headfirst into its snare? She couldn’t imagine how excruciating it must feel on the sensitive skin of his neck and face. She hadn’t been able to see it before, but she could make out a jumble of thin red lines, so concentrated in places that they raised into one solid welt. Her attempt to remove it must have aggravated a renewed reaction.
“I’ve found something in his personal records,” Sam said. “Nematocysts. He was working on a way to incorporate them into amphibious insects or aquatic plants. He may have changed his mind later. I don’t have all of his records.”
“Thanks, Sam. Nematocysts, aside from making no sense on land, may explain why water made it worse.”
Nematocysts were what made jellyfish sting. Prey came into contact with them, and the pressure triggered the nematocysts to launch like tiny harpoons. These became lodged into prey with little barbs, pumping the victim with poison.
Poison. Only a few species of jellyfish could kill a human. If the timing of his scream was any indication, Brian had been lying like this for half an hour, and he was still breathing. But it could just be a matter of time. Either way, Dione knew she needed to remove the moss without disturbing it and causing more nematocysts to fire. Not all nematocysts would have fired at the same time, and if she triggered more, she didn’t know how much more poison Brian’s body could handle.
Dione didn’t know how nematocysts could work in a dry environment, but a washed-up jellyfish could still sting an unwitting beachgoer. She looked back up at the glistening moss. It was wet. The fresh water she had poured on her hand had affected the pressure differential, triggering more nematocysts to fire, so more of the poison could be released.
What did she know about stings like this? Water was bad, though it was unfortunately too late for that realization. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she had read years ago before her first beach trip. She’d been Type A even then, researching what to do in case something went wrong. Riptides, heatstroke, jellyfish—think!
Vinegar, then heat. The beach was warm, so heat would be no problem, but vinegar? Was there any in the supplies on the shuttle? She had stuffed some bottles and jars in her bag before venturing into the jungle.
She had brought water and a bottle of juice, but everything else was food. Granola, dried fruit, and nuts.
Dammit! There had been some sort of pickled cucurbits back in the shuttle, but she hated pickles. Now, she needed the vinegar in the pickling solution. Would it take too long to go back to the shuttle? Should she remove the moss then drag Brian back anyway?
A meter away, she saw Brian’s bag. He’d stuffed some supplies inside before slinging it over his shoulder and walking into the jungle. Maybe he’d packed some pickles.
Bingo! She wrinkled her nose as she opened the jar, then cracked a relieved smile. Pickling might ruin perfectly good vegetables, but the juice should contain enough acetic acid to neutralize the tiny stingers. There was one way to check.
She braced the jar between her legs, opened it with her good hand, and dipped her fingers inside. She braced herself, but the pain didn’t come. Her fingers felt a little better, though they still
throbbed. Now to help Brian.
Moving the moss had activated more nematocysts, but she only had enough pickle juice to neutralize the stingers on his skin. She would have to find a way to remove the moss first. The strands were all clumped together like a tangle of thread, which was good. If she could remove that central mass, that would be it. No need to pick off individual strands of moss.
Using a stick would be too imprecise. She needed a glove or… a sock. She removed her boot, then sock, careful to put the boot back on immediately. While she didn’t have the precision of a glove, this was a lot better than trying to use sticks like tweezers or a giant leaf from some other poisonous tree.
She reached out for the moss with her sock-covered hand, but pulled back. Would it work? It didn’t matter. She had wasted enough time already. Once again, she extended her hands toward the clump of moss. She had to be quick. The less disturbance, the fewer stings. The fewer stings, the less Brian would squirm.
Dione hesitated for one more second over Brian’s neck before rapidly scooping up the moss and chucking it far away toward the base of the tree. She peeled off the sock like a contaminated glove and tossed it, too, toward the tree trunk. Brian tensed and yelled out in pain before passing out again. Dione picked up the bottle of pickle juice and poured it generously over his neck. With what was left, she treated his hands from where he had grabbed at the moss at some point.
Dione sat back on her heels. The stingers were neutralized, but she couldn’t leave Brian here. He didn’t wake to her touch. She certainly couldn’t carry him.
Could she? Dione stared at his muscular frame. It wasn’t that far to the beach, but she knew her limits. She thought about dragging him, but the undergrowth would make it difficult.
Dione began breathing faster, and she could feel a telltale prickle at the corners of her eyes. She was going to cry. Ever since landing on Kepos, she had never felt this alone. Or this afraid. Even on the Ven ship, there had been a clear course of action and someone to share the burden of failure. What had she gotten herself into? She couldn’t survive this place alone. The tears were flowing freely, but she suppressed her sobs to keep them silent.
She looked at the death trap around her, blurred by her tears, when she saw a familiar plant. Aloe. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact species, but there was a good chance it might come in handy.
She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, regaining some of her composure before making a call. “Sam, I think I see an aloe plant. Is that possible, here, on this island?” Dione waited for a reply. “Sam?”
“The Aratians cultivate an aloe variety that Jameson improved. It’s possible he seeded some on the island as well. He would have included ways to help him control and counter what he set loose there. I doubt he would have given his monsters free reign. He had to be king.”
“Thanks,” Dione said. “I’ll be in touch.”
She ended the call and moved cautiously toward the aloe. Its gel could be used as a salve to reduce inflammation. Had Jameson put these two organisms together for this very reason, in case he brushed against some moss?
Dione recalled her first encounter with the plant. Once as a child, she’d tumbled into a formiceps nest. Her legs had been covered in welts, and her father hadn’t been home, so she’d torn a few leaves off the potted aloe plant on the patio, mashed them up with a rock, and smeared the slimy gel all over her legs. The immediate relief was like magic. That moment had sparked Dione’s love of plants.
She plucked a few leaves off the plant on the forest floor and, with the help of her knife and a couple of rocks, quickly turned them into a gel. The familiar medicinal scent calmed her as she smeared the salve on Brian’s neck and hands.
Then she waited. It felt like forever, but soon she heard a low groan. Brian was waking up.
“Hey, don’t move yet. Take it easy,” she said, leaning over him. “You ran into some moss that stung you, but I removed it. I put some aloe on the welts on your neck and hands, too. Does it hurt anywhere else?”
Brian heaved a sigh and looked at her, but his eyes were unfocused, his pupils unnaturally dilated. He managed a shake of his head and started to sit up. She helped him. He reached for his neck, but she intercepted his hand.
“Don’t touch it.” At the sound of her voice, he gripped her hand tightly, eyes wide and darting around.
“I won’t let them.” His eyes focused on a spot behind her.
“Huh?” She turned around, but nothing was there, save the forest. “Brian, it’s me, Dione. What’s going on?”
Finally his eyes focused on her, and a confused smile lit his features. “Dione? What happened?”
She explained again what was going on, relieved that he seemed to be himself again. “Do you think you can walk back to the shuttle? I don’t like being in the jungle.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Dione helped him to his feet, and the two headed back toward the sound of waves breaking on the shore. She left his bag on the ground. It was too much for him to carry right now, and they could get it in the morning. She didn’t want to get caught out here in the dark.
Brian had already fallen asleep in the shuttle, so Dione watched the sunset light the ocean on fire by herself. She’d been so excited to explore this place, but now she was too afraid to even move a muscle, lest something hear her and find them. She tried to relax and let the rhythmic ocean waves soothe her. After a while, it seemed to work. Her muscles loosened, and when she opened her eyes, she gasped.
She had never seen a sunset like this. A perfect halo of orange, so bright she could almost smell the citrus, had settled on the horizon. Beyond that warm center extended a corona of thick pink, rich and glossy, and rough purple, textured by wisps of cloud. Dione stared in awe. The colors were so unnaturally bright and beautiful she couldn’t focus on anything else.
She blinked, and the colors faded rapidly, shaking her loose from the hold the view had on her. It was time to get some rest. She hoped that if she locked herself and Brian in the shuttle while they slept, they would be safe.
Dione trudged across the sand, which was already cool, and entered the shuttle. She grabbed two blankets from a supply crate. Brian might need an extra. Blankets in hand, it took her brain a long moment to realize the problem.
Brian was gone. A new set of tracks in the sand led into the jungle. There was no evidence of a struggle.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dione muttered to herself. She put her palm to her face for a moment and shook her head. Why had he gone back into the woods? He knew it wasn’t safe, especially in the dark. It didn’t make sense. If he’d seen something, he would have told her.
Unless there was something wrong with him. He’d seemed out of it after his encounter with the moss, but she’d chalked it up to pain and exhaustion.
Dione peered into the now dark and still foreboding trees. Could she really go back out? The jungle made her uneasy in the daytime, but in the dark, it petrified her. On top of the other supplies she had packed early, she added the two tightly rolled blankets and some more pickled cucurbits, just in case.
She took a deep breath and clutched the stun rifle, hoping she wouldn’t need it. After enabling the flashlight on her manumed, she forged ahead once again into unknown and dangerous territory with the aim of saving Brian.
He’s gonna owe me big time, Dione thought, but a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered an unsettling rejoinder: If you survive.
8. LITHIA
The Aratians moved busily all around the square. Long, rectangular tables draped in rich navy cloths had been set up parallel to one another. A head table stood perpendicular to the rest at the front, with half its seats already filled. Lithia recognized Benjamin and Moira, who were already seated there. Glowglobes, all pure white, had been hung around the area, though enough daylight remained to light the meal. The pyres flickered nearby, and the sweet-burning wood nearly overpowered the warm scent of the soups and breads that were set out along the
tables.
Lithia had dreaded the funeral feast, but she knew she belonged here. She had fought, and nearly died, alongside these people, but she did not have anywhere close to an equal share in the Aratians’ grief. It was hard to be surrounded by others in pain. What comfort could she offer? A few glared at her, an outsider, but many remembered her from the battle and smiled as she took a seat near Cora at the head table. Jai, Cora’s betrothed from the Matching, sat on Lithia’s other side. She had the feeling that Cora had placed her between them to make it easier to ignore him. Lithia wondered if she was here simply to act as a physical barrier.
Her manumed buzzed. It was Dione: Heading into jungle. No choice.
“Don’t you dare,” Lithia muttered under her breath. She swiftly crafted her reply: Don’t. I’ll be there by morning.
That was a lie, but maybe it would be enough to stop her. Cora leaned back in her seat, poking at the roasted vegetables on her plate while everyone around them ate. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Lithia said.
“You said earlier you had a favor to ask. Is something wrong?”
“It can wait until after this,” Lithia said. “Probably.” She shoved half a potato into her mouth to keep it busy. This was not the time. Truthfully, Lithia didn’t know how bad things were on the island or why Dione was doing something as stupid as walking into a mad scientist’s smorgasbord of deadly flora and fauna, but she wasn’t about to cause a scene in the middle of a funeral feast.
Dione’s reply settled like lead in the pit of her stomach: Sorry. Hope we are back at shuttle by then. Don’t tell Oberon.
Oberon? That’s what she was worried about? And since when did she call him Oberon? It was always professor this and professor that.
“You look upset,” Cora insisted. “If there’s something I can do to help, tell me. Is it the Vens?”
Lithia finished chewing and swallowed, then took a deep breath. “For once, it’s not. Dione and Brian went to the southern island, but they can’t get back. We have no way of getting them back, and Victoria won’t send anyone. I was hoping I could borrow your Flyer.”
