‘When you do want to leave?’
‘Shortly before curfew. I’ll exempt you for the night.’
‘I’ll meet you at the pier,’ he agrees.
TWELVE
Adil is sitting on the banks of a stream, sharpening his knife with a stone, while watching horses playing in the dirt on the other side. He’s completely naked, his feet submerged in the cool water, his thoughts drifting. He’s so emaciated he looks like a bundle of firewood stacked under a sheet.
In the five years since he was banished from the village, he’s explored the island from top to bottom, losing entire days to the memory gems he scavenged from ruins, emerging from their bright modern world into the misery of his own life.
He’d have ended things long ago if it weren’t for his hatred of the elders, and Niema in particular. The idea that he might one day free his friends from what she’s doing to them is the only reason he’s still alive. This dream poisons and sustain him.
He presses his thumb to the edge of the blade, drawing blood. Satisfied, he tosses the stone into the stream.
‘Niema’s going to the lighthouse tonight,’ I say, in his thoughts. ‘I’ve arranged a boat for you. It’s floating in a bay not far from here. I want you to take it, and get there before she arrives.’
He blinks, surprised to hear from me.
Niema meant his exile to be total, and has forbidden me from speaking to him unless absolutely necessary. He’s now heard from me twice in two days, double the number of interactions we’ve had in the last five years.
He tries to speak out loud, only to find his unused voice lodged in his throat, covered in dust. Kneeling down, he sips from the cool stream, then tries again.
‘You know what I’ll do if I get that close to her,’ he says, coughing up every word.
‘I can hear your thoughts, Adil,’ I say. ‘I know what you dream about it. I know it isn’t bravado.’
‘Then why do you want me there?’ he demands suspiciously.
‘Later tonight, Niema’s going to conduct an experiment, which she believes will lead to a better, more peaceful future. The odds of success are low, and if it doesn’t work it will set off a cataclysmic chain of events which will result in everybody on this island being dead in sixty-one hours.’
He picks up his knife, staring at his distorted reflection in the metal. A hacking cough shakes his body, droplets of blood splattering the blade.
‘You want me to kill her before she conducts the experiment, don’t you?’ he realises, wiping the blood away with his thumb.
‘I’m incapable of want,’ I say. ‘I was created to follow Niema’s instructions without deviation, and her instructions demand that I protect humanity against any threat.’
‘Even if that threat’s Niema?’
‘Even if that threat’s Niema,’ I confirm.
THIRTEEN
Clara leaps forward, catching Hui’s flailing hand as the scree slips from under her feet and clatters over the sheer drop to her left. Clinging tight to each other, they listen to the stones bounce, then cast a quick, nervous glance at the vast plains spread out like a tatty quilt far below.
‘Nope,’ says Hui, shaking her head and averting her eyes again.
Until now, she’s never been any higher than the third floor of the barracks, so she didn’t know how much she disliked heights.
They’re not far from the volcano’s cauldron, but the goat trail’s steeper up here, the ground more treacherous. Thea is way out in front, disappearing into the heat shimmering off the ground, while Hui and Clara bring up the rear. It’s a little after midday, which is the hottest part of the day. The sun is an inch away from their blistering skin and the only shade is the one they’re dragging after them.
Clara’s coping reasonably well, but Hui’s panting hard, every step an ordeal. She needs a long rest, but she’s too embarrassed to ask. I’ve offered to tell Thea on her behalf, but she won’t let me. Normally, I’d disregard that sentiment, but Hui’s pulse is strong, her heartbeat steady, and she’s breathing freely. I’m required to keep the villagers healthy. As long as that’s taken care of, I’ll do my best to keep them happy, as well.
‘You okay?’ asks Clara, making sure Hui has her footing before releasing her arm.
‘I hate this,’ replies Hui.
‘Seems fair,’ agrees Clara, handing Hui a flask of water.
She tries to push it away. ‘We’re falling behind.’
‘It’s not like we don’t know where the top of the volcano is,’ replies Clara kindly. ‘Get your breath back. We’ll get there when we get there.’
Hui gulps from the flask gratefully, the lukewarm water spilling down her chin.
While she drinks, Clara searches the ground for the train carriage they started from, but it’s disappeared into a mass of brown and green earth. She can see an eagle circling below, riding the same warm current that’s blasting her face.
She beams in delight, giddy at everything that’s happening to her.
All of her life, she’s woken in the village and fallen asleep in the village, without ever knowing anything different. But in the last fortnight, she’s seen dark forests and golden beaches, mines filled with bats and sandy bays writhing with dolphins.
From the local flora, she’s learned how to harvest remedies for almost every ailment that afflicts the villagers. Thea’s taught them how to set broken bones, transfuse blood and tend burns. She’s taught them how to temporarily power ancient machinery with their portable solar generators, and how to read the strange symbols that pour across their shattered black screens.
Clara has never been this happy. She just wishes she hadn’t needed to fall out with her mother to get here. From the second Emory found out her daughter was taking the trials, she did everything possible to sabotage her chances, even blaming Thea publicly for her father’s death. It was mortifying.
‘She misses you,’ I say, in her thoughts.
‘I miss her,’ she admits. ‘I just wish she’d let me … Dad would have understood why I wanted to come here.’
‘He’d be standing beside you,’ I agree.
It was Jack’s fondest hope that his daughter would follow in his footsteps and become an apprentice. He dreamed about moments like this. He wanted it so badly, he was even willing to endure the shouted arguments with Emory to get it.
‘How are you able to stand there so calmly?’ asks Hui, from behind her. ‘Why are you never afraid?’
Clara realises she’s standing on the very edge of the cliff, her toes poking into the air, the wind tugging at her clothes. Her heart’s thumping, her blood racing.
She’s been like this her entire life; always the one who dived the deepest, and swam the furthest out. If there’s something to be climbed, Clara will be halfway up it while her friends are still working up the courage. She strides into the darkest tunnels as if guided by some light only she can see.
Even Thea has praised her courage, and she hands out compliments the way the moon hands out fruit.
‘After my dad drowned, I wouldn’t go near the sea, not for anything,’ she says, leaning forward to peer at the distant ground. ‘My mum let me be afraid for a couple of weeks, then, one day, she walked me out to the pier, right to the water’s edge, and told me that everything we fear finds us eventually, so there’s no point trying to outrun it. We spent an hour on that pier, then, finally, she made me jump in with her.’