by A. H. Wang
Georgia finds it fitting that the elixir was found in a cave. She remembers seeing a documentary recently about these unexplored, underground worlds, where whole ecological systems have evolved in isolation over millions of years. The lifeforms in these segregated microcosms are completely alien to ours on the surface of Earth, and even though humanity knows almost every part of our planet’s surface, we have little understanding of what is within the depths of the oceans or hidden inside the earth. According to the film, it is estimated that at least ten million kilometres of caves still remain uncharted around the globe. Who knows what chemistry could brew in one of these unexplored realms?
As Georgia reads on, she feels herself transported to a world that existed on this very land, millennia ago.
44
520 BCE, Taiwan
Her father came to wake her before daybreak.
“Naaya, sweetheart,” he cajoled, knowing his child was a glutton for sleep. “I am sorry to do this, but our neighbour Nin is still sick. He had high fevers all night. I fear the worst.”
Naaya blinked at him with sleepy eyes. “What can I do, Father?”
“I need you to gather some herbs for me. One of them is not easy to find, but it may be his last chance for survival.” He listed the plants and Naaya nodded, committing them to memory. “Please hurry,” her father added.
It was the beginning of the hot season, but the mornings were still quite cool, especially in the mountains. Dew gathered on the foliage of trees, and she drank from the leaves, the cool liquid waking her. She gathered her collecting basket, a digging stick, some food and water, and set off across the river before the sun appeared over the peaks.
Her father had given her a list of four things to collect. The first three were easily found and readily available this time of the year, and Naaya located them quickly near the banks of the river. The last, however, was an extremely rare mushroom that grew only deep in the mountains and involved an arduous climb which would take most of the day. She would not be able to return home until after the sun had moved more than halfway through the sky. So Naaya set a steady pace, first crossing the small creek that ran from the northern peaks, then climbing high enough along the northern face of the gorge to follow the river due west, heading deep into the mountains.
Father had shown her this path on her last birthday, and they’d traversed it a handful of times since, but this would be her first time making the outing on her own. Father had to be with Nin, to look after the poor boy. But Naaya also knew that this was his way of telling her that she was now a grown woman and no longer a child. She was pleased that her father finally trusted her to complete the task by herself.
She was desperately eager to prove to him that he was right.
It was with this motivation that she climbed over giant boulders and edged herself across treacherous cliffs, noting every tree and rock that Father had previously pointed out to her as markers along the path. She had a single-minded focus, and did not take the time to explore the forest as she usually would have done on trips such as this.
For Naaya loved the forest. She loved to explore all of the treasures that it offered. She relished taking her time to daydream while she wandered amongst the big, beautiful trees. But today was not a day for adventures or musings. She was so focused on the task at hand that she even forgot to sing.
Warming up quickly from the exertion, her body dripped with sweat as the sun ascended the sky. Before long, Naaya realised her water was running low. Fortunately, she had reached the small flatland where the mushrooms grew. It took her a little while to collect the amount her father needed. Then, mission accomplished, Naaya sat down to nibble on some food whilst contemplating whether to return home straight away, or to continue her westward path towards the second creek to refill her water bladder.
In the years to come, Naaya would often revisit this day, mulling over every tiny, minuscule decision she had made. There were so many things that could have been done differently to change the course of her fate. She could have drunk less water, paced herself so that she still had enough for the trip home. Or she could have refilled her water bladder on her return journey instead, at the first creek that ran from the northern peaks. There were so many other options that could have been taken to avoid travelling further west.
But Naaya did none of these things. Instead, she chose to continue onwards, a decision which would ultimately culminate in the destruction of her people. She would regret making this decision until the day she died.
Perched on that rock, Naaya told herself it would not take long to get to the second creek. Besides, this brook ran from where the mountain god Zai resided, and her mother had always told her its waters were more nourishing. She reasoned that it would be helpful to bring some back for Nin, to aid his healing.
This was the rationale she had in her head that day, but deep down she knew she was just feeling hot and thirsty, craving some time in the cool stream before making her way back home.
On her westward path, as she neared the creek enough to hear its trickling waters, Naaya spotted a Panna tree several paces to her right. She stopped dead in her tracks. This was the second Panna tree she had ever seen, for they are even rarer than the mushrooms that she had just picked. Mother always spoke of their special leaves, for when pounded into a pulp they made a concoction for washing one’s hair that rendered it beautifully shiny and strong, and as black as a moonless sky.
What happened next was the second dreadful decision she made that day, for she walked quickly towards the tree, intending to collect some leaves both for herself and for her mother. This was the very last thing she remembered of that day.
The next thing she knew, she was awakening from a slumber of unknown duration, finding herself on her back, blinking at the total darkness that surrounded her. She panicked, wondering if she had gone blind, reaching her hand out before her eyes. The sudden movement was what brought on the searing pain.
Oh, the pain. It was a total, all-encompassing sensation that engulfed her entire being. She cried out, tears streaming down her face, and this triggered a coughing fit that had her choking on the liquid which suddenly filled her throat. She convulsed, rolling to her side to expel the warm fluid. It was violent and agonising, and she thought it would never end. But slowly, the spasms subsided, and she rolled her tongue in the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.
Echoes of her outburst reverberated around her. Naaya realised then that she was in a cave. She searched the depths of her mind to remember how she had gotten there. But at that moment, lying on her side with blood trickling from her lips, the very last thing she could recollect was her father coming to wake her, asking her to gather herbs for him. Had she been mauled by a bear in the forest and dragged into this cave? She did not think bears did such things.
It was stifling and humid, and her lips were parched, her throat burning with thirst. She could smell the tinny, sharp odour of fresh blood and she wondered where else she was bleeding from. Slowly, gently, she pushed herself up into a seated position, gasping with pain, and she tried to stand up.
She could not feel her legs. She could not command them to move.
Tears streaming down her face, Naaya lay back down, quietly weeping. She cried over her pain. She wept over her hopeless predicament. She grieved for the legs that no longer had any sensations. But mostly, she sobbed over her loneliness. Naaya knew she was to die here, alone.
Time passed. Slowly, a faint glimmer of light glowed above her, growing steadily brighter. Naaya thought that she had died, that this was the light all souls saw at the moment of death. But instead of blissful freedom, all she felt was the same agony. It was some time later that she realised the light was the silvery glow of the moon through a hole high above her. She decided it must be the hole she had fallen through.
As Naaya lay there, she began to register the slow dripping of water, and the thirst in her throat suddenly became overwhelming.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A coughing fit seized her again, and the harsh taste of new blood made her gag. Her stomach contracted, but all she threw up was bile and more blood.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The echo of the dripping sound haunted her. She was overcome with thirst, with the desire to wash out the vile mixture of vomit and gore that was swirling around her mouth. Finally, grunting with effort and wincing in agony, she turned and used her arms to crawl towards the sound of water.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She did not have to go far. After a few paces, her hands felt the cool water before her, and she cupped the liquid with her hands. Naaya drank slowly, and for as long as her stomach would tolerate it.
Then she laid her head down by the water and let the deep darkness engulf her, knowing she would never wake again.
45
Georgia wakes with a start, the sound of her rapid breath rasping in the silence. Remnants of her dreams linger, their tendrils curling around her mind, unwilling to let go. Sleep, when it finally came, took her to a dark place where she was trapped and scared, fearful of being captured by faceless men.
She blinks a few times, chasing away the slumber. It takes a couple of seconds to recognise her surroundings and remember how she got here. The house is quiet, and the only sounds she hears are the birdsongs outside.
Once dressed, she heads downstairs, discovering from the wall clock that it is now past noon, and that she is alone in the house. Charlie has left a note on the kitchen island, advising that he has gone into town for groceries. He has left the coffeemaker on, the aroma of the fresh brew making Georgia’s mouth water.
Good man.
Strong coffee is exactly what Georgia needs. She’s been up all night, going through the drawings and writings in Charlie’s notebook. Sipping the hot drink, she eyes the vintage house phone on the kitchen counter, next to the fifties-style fridge.
The owner of the house has retro tastes. She smiles as she picks up the phone receiver, dialling a number she knows well, waiting patiently between every number as the rotary dial rotates back to its original position each time. After a brief pause, it begins to ring.
“Hello?”
“Sarah, it’s me.”
“Jesus, Georgia, you had me worried half to death! Where are you? Why haven’t you picked up your phone?”
“It’s a long story,” she says. “Look, I can’t talk long, I just wanted you to know I’m safe. Can you also call Amah and Ethan to let them know that? Tell them I’ll call when I get a chance.”
“O-kay…” Sarah’s voice is full of suspicion, but she doesn’t question Georgia the way she normally would. Instead, she says, “Georgia, you need to know something.”
Georgia is quiet as she listens to Sarah speak with urgency, uneasiness curling in the seat of her belly. She hears a car pull up to the house and turns, seeing through the window that Charlie has returned.
“No, don’t do that,” she says quickly in response to Sarah’s question. “Hey, I gotta go now. I’ll call again later and explain everything, okay?”
“Okay. Be careful—”
Georgia hangs up before she has a chance to hear the rest of her assistant’s sentence.
Sydney
Sarah Wu is no fool, and she certainly doesn’t appreciate being treated as one.
Fifty-eight years of age and a mother of three, she has long ago developed a strong nose for bullshit. It is, therefore, extremely rare for her to be hoodwinked.
And that’s exactly what’s happened, judging by what she found out today. It had her huffing with anger all day, throwing her weight around the university campus like a woman possessed. Even the other professors in the department have avoided her, sensing trouble whenever she neared.
That Lambert has some balls on him, fucking with Georgia like that.
And whoever messes with Georgia is messing with her. Sarah clenches her jaw. Oh yes, she takes it all very personally. She was about to pick up the phone and tell the bastard exactly that, when she received the phone call from Georgia. Sarah has no idea where the girl is, and she must admit that this turn of events has her worried.
She exits the building of the Department of Archaeology, carrying her bag over her shoulder as she walks briskly towards the car park. It’s late, and there are no other souls around as she walks towards her car. Sarah has been working late all month, corresponding with China and managing the dig on Georgia’s behalf to the best of her abilities. She’s been anxious for Georgia’s return for a while now—handling both of their jobs at the same time is hardly sustainable, and that Professor Chang from Peking University is getting mighty bossy. Plus, the paperwork is starting to pile up.
She reaches her car and fumbles in her bag, trawling through various documents and miscellaneous items for the key.
Where is the damn thing?
That’s when Sarah hears the footsteps behind her.
The hairs stand up on the back of her neck, and she turns to see who is approaching. But the movement is interrupted as a hand closes over her face. She struggles, trying to break free, yet strong arms have wrapped around her, holding her still. She shrieks as she feels a sharp prick in the side of her neck, her scream muffled by the attacker’s hand.
“Shhh…” a voice says.
That is the last thing Sarah hears before her mind slips into darkness.
46
Georgia spends the rest of day sifting through the contents of the notebook with Charlie. They sit in the living room, poring over the old photographs of Naaya’s drawings and writings on barks and scrolls. According to Charlie, most of the originals have crumbled to dust by now, despite the care he has taken with their conservation. The ones he could not save in time to be photographed, he replicated by hand.
Naaya was a talented artist, sketching out her story and journey in exquisite detail. It is clear from these records that her home was somewhere in the mountains. But that information means next to nothing in Taiwan, because almost two-thirds of the island is rugged, forest-covered, mountain terrain. What’s even more discouraging is the fact that there are very few publicly known natural caves here. The instability of the region means many caves are inaccessible or dangerous, and the local authorities tend to discourage tourists from exploring them. Possessing more than two hundred peaks over three thousand metres, Taiwan lies along the convergent boundary between the Philippine Oceanic Plate and the Eurasian Continental Plate. As a result, there are frequent earthquakes, and a few dormant and possibly active volcanoes in the area. Furthermore, every year the island is visited by multiple typhoons of varying strengths, and the strong winds and rainfall usually cause widespread destruction as well as catastrophic landslides, especially down south and on the east coast.
Georgia can understand why Charlie hasn’t been able to locate the cave on his own. This is not going to be an easy task at all.
To make matters worse, she hasn’t been able to focus on the task at hand. Her phone call with Sarah earlier today has left her perturbed and distracted. Her mind keeps returning to Sarah’s warning.
Be careful—
“Are you okay, Georgia?” Charlie asks now, as if reading her mind.
“Yeah.” She forces a smile. “Why do you ask?”
“You keep looking out the window as if you are expecting someone to show up. And you look worried. Is everything alright?”
She shakes her head. “I spoke with my assistant at the university earlier today.”
Charlie frowns, a rare expression on his usually tranquil features. “Trouble at home?”
She chews on her lower lip. “Remember when I told you about how I came to accept Lambert’s assignment?”
Charlie nods, thinking. “You were having trouble securing funding for your excavation project in China. Then his assistant called and invited you to dinner at Lambert Manor.”
“Sarah’s brother, David, knows one of the funding board members for our dig in China,” she tells him. “The board member t
old David that Lambert did everything he could to block our funding.”
Charlie leans back on the sofa, his face impassive and calm.
When he doesn’t say anything in response, Georgia asks, “Why would he do something like that?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Charlie replies quietly, meeting her gaze.
Indeed she does, but she has been unwilling to contemplate it all day. Now, she finally voices her suspicions. “Because he knew that, being the scientist that I am, I would have refused to take on the project. I would have dismissed it as the fantasy of a narcissist who’s just afraid of the thought of his own mortality. I would’ve thought he was wasting my time. Lambert needed me desperate enough to go to him and accept the job.”
Charlie nods in agreement. “It was just his luck that the government had also cut funding to your entire university at the same time, so you were not only trying to save just your project, but your job too.”
He continues as Georgia remains silent. “I know men like Lambert. He would have done his research before meeting you, and someone of his resources could find out things you would not even know about yourself. He would have made sure he knew your favourite foods, your financial situation, what you ate for breakfast, even your favourite TV shows—everything to prepare himself so that when you met, he could create the most affable and agreeable atmosphere possible, one in which you would be likely to accept to his offer.”
