Earth Thirst (The Arcadian Conflict) - By Mark Teppo Page 0,55
feels good, nestled against my chest, her head tucked against my shoulder.
An airplane howls overhead as I follow the road around the end of Mataveri's main runway, and instead of sticking with the road as it doubles back on itself toward the main terminal, I head overland. It takes me about an hour to jog up the hill, and I'm out of breath when we reach the top and I put her down. I don't want to look, afraid I'm going to see as desolate a landscape as the sere terrain surrounding the city, but to my surprise, the valley of the crater is carpeted with a lush forest.
“Are there any trees?” she asks, unable to see as clearly as I can.
“Yes,” I say, my voice breaking. “There are a lot of them.”
“Silas.” She fumbles for my arm, and I try to suppress the shiver that runs through my flesh as her fingers get hold of me. “When was the last time you were here? There haven't been trees on Easter Island for more than a hundred years.”
“I know.”
“When we were on the plane you said something about remembering World War II, and you said you were older than that. When I asked you how old, you dodged my question.” Her hand tightens on my arm. “I know we laughed about the vampire thing, and what you said about being a Dardanoi…”
Her brain is starting to insist on some answers. Things are becoming too real. I understand her confusion—I have my own. She can't make the pieces work without accepting some things as being truth that are difficult to swallow.
“I was here,” I admit. My memories are still fragmented, like the leftover pottery shards that get folded into raw soil. The growing loam.
“Are you familiar with Sirolimus?” I ask, changing the subject. “It's an immunosuppressant, used primarily to treat patients who've received organ transplants. It is sourced from a bacterium only found here in the island.”
I close my eyes and try to remember the way Rano Kau used to be. “We cultivated a number of fragile species in the garden down there. Species of tree and bush that had gone extinct elsewhere in the world. It was its own ecosystem, and we had saved it. The soil here—the humus—is incredibly rich, almost the perfect proportions. In fact, we tried to grow a sapling from”—I pause, catching myself—“from an old, old tree that we had been tending for centuries. Our cutting lasted longer than a lot of people thought it would, but it didn't survive.”
It was too far from Mother. Or too close, perhaps.
“Why is the soil important?” she asks. “Is it for you? Do you need to… you know, sleep in the ground?”
“We can. We do. But most of the ground has been tainted by all the chemicals leaching in from landfills or what seeps into the ground after being dumped in streams. We need clean dirt, and that's what this ground is. This garden and our steward were always here, even after the island was discovered by European explorers.”
The image of a headdress of white feathers floats through my head. As does the sensation of jumping off a cliff. And black streaks on skin, like ash mixed with tears. I'm starting to build context. Remembering why I should know this place.
“I need to rest,” I say, pushing the images aside. They're still a distracting mess. “My immune system is compromised. I need to flush my system clean. Any of the others would have the same need. They'd come here for the same reasons.”
“And here we are,” she says, “and there are trees, so what is the problem?”
“Why are there only trees here?” I ask. “If there is a steward here still, why did they let the rest of the island die?”
“We should go ask,” she points out. “I wish I could see something,” she sighs.
“This is why I didn't want you to come with me,” I remind her. “I should take you back to the hotel.”
“Yeah, well, that's not going to happen,” she replies. “I should have brought a flashlight.”
I offer her my optics. “Try these.”
They're too big for her face, but she stuffs the ends of them into her hair and they look like they'll stay in place well enough. I show her how to work them, and as I do, her hand naturally rests on my hip. “Wow,” she grins as she looks around. “These are cool. I knew being obstinate would totally work in my favor.”