Clara’s gaze darts to Hui for support, but her friend refuses to meet her eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks.
‘She’s fine,’ interrupts Thea impatiently. ‘I’m fine. The boy is fine. No more questions. It’s time our young friend here met his new parents, and we’re running late.’
FOURTEEN
Hephaestus pushes a low-hanging tree branch out of Thea’s way. No sooner has she passed by with the little boy than he lets it go, causing it to snap back towards Clara’s face, forcing her to duck out of the way.
She glares at him angrily, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. There was nothing malicious in the act. It’s like he simply forgot she was back here.
‘Be careful, Hephaestus!’ says Thea, hitching a thumb at Clara and Hui, who are trailing behind.
He glances at them, his expression offering neither apology nor acknowledgement.
Clara falters, intimidated. She’s never been this close to him before. It’s like arriving at the foot of the mountain you’ve only ever seen from distance. He’s a head taller than Thea, and his body is a solid piece of muscle; his immense shoulders covered in the yellow pollen that’s being pumped out of the vines dangling from the struts in the ceiling.
He’s built differently from every other villager, but it’s the eyes that seem the most alien. There’s no light in them. No sparkle. No humanity. They’re deep pits, with something awful slithering at the bottom.
‘I haven’t seen you in weeks, what are you doing up here?’ Thea asks him in a gentle tone that Clara’s never heard her use with anybody else.
The elders are walking side by side, only an inch of space between them. Thea’s proud and upright as always, while Hephaestus is hunched, his head bent low, making sure she doesn’t have to crane her neck to stare up at him. There’s such love between them that the air seems to ripple where they walk.
‘Mum asked me to survey the cauldron for cracks in the dome,’ he says, tapping the strange contraption. ‘That’s what this is for.’ His tone changes, becoming childishly proud. ‘Made it myself.’
From behind them, Clara eyes the messy tangle of exposed circuitry and blinking lights. Thea once told her that Hephaestus was a biologist before the fog, but he taught himself engineering after the world ended. His skill is the only reason they have any technology to work with at all. The elders lost most of their equipment when they sealed up Blackheath, but Hephaestus managed to recreate basic scientific instruments with parts he salvaged across the island.
‘Why would she need you to survey the dome?’ asks Thea, eyeing the glass nervously. ‘Is there something wrong it?’
This cauldron was intended to serve as a final refuge for the island’s population should the barrier fail, but the dome is over a hundred years old now. If it’s broken, they won’t have the materials to fix it.
‘Nothing my gizmo can spot,’ says Hephaestus. ‘She’s probably just trying to keep me busy. She thinks having purpose is good for my head.’
Thea nods understandingly.
The majority of the scientists who stayed on the island after the fog emerged eventually ran out of reasons to keep going. Some went quicker than others, but they all gave up in the end. Thea and Hephaestus endure because they genuinely believe there is a future to be had after all of this. Thea spends every day in her lab, inching her way towards reclaiming Blackheath, while Hephaestus serves his mother, same as he’s always done.
As long as Niema has need of him, he’d never think of abandoning her.
Seeing that the two elders are distracted, Clara falls in stride with Hui, who’s still carrying the metal box. It’s about the size of a melon, badly dented with a small door. Clara’s never seen one like it before, but there’s no hint of what might be inside, or how Hui came by it.
‘I know it was you who screamed,’ says Clara, speaking under her breath. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’
Hui’s eyes dart towards her, only to fall back to the box. She hasn’t spoken since the clearing.
‘Why won’t you talk to me?’ persists Clara. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
Hui finally meets Clara’s gaze. She looks shell-shocked and ashamed, desperate to be anywhere else. Shaking her head, she speeds up, walking away from her friend.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Clara asks me in her thoughts. ‘Why is she being like this?’
‘You know I can’t divulge her private thoughts to you,’ I say. ‘She’ll be okay tomorrow. She’s had a shock, that’s all. Badgering her won’t make her feel any better.’
Passing through a glass door, they enter a cable-car station wedged into the side of the volcano. A carriage creaks on a wire in front of them, the cogs powering it gleaming with freshly applied grease.
Thea’s gaze roams the apparatus with a profound – and earned – scepticism. This entire system was built over two hundred years ago by a long-forgotten government who wanted to turn the island, and the naval base, into a tourist attraction. It’s been abandoned for at least half of its lifespan, which is evident from the carriage’s flaked paint and rust.
We repaired it as best we could, but it still breaks down every few journeys, leaving somebody dangling on the line.
‘I want every part of this machinery examined,’ says Thea, the wind tugging at her filthy T-shirt.
‘What are we looking for?’ asks Clara, going down on her hands and knees to peer at the underside of the suspended cable car.
‘Anything that indicates we might plunge to our death shortly after departure,’ replies Thea curtly.
‘What would that look like?’
‘My hope is that it would be obvious.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with any of it,’ declares Hephaestus, stepping aboard confidently. ‘Or, at least, the things that are wrong with it you won’t be able to do anything about. You might as well get in.’
That doesn’t make Thea feel any better. She hates the cable car and would normally choose any other form of transport, but there’s no direct path from the cauldron to the village, and the goat trail they used to get here is too arduous a journey for the little boy.
After blowing out a breath of apprehension, Thea gestures for her apprentices to board.
Placing one of her carved birds on the platform, Clara darts inside to find Hephaestus taking up the entire rear seat, his thick arms folded across his enormous body. Hui’s sat on the floor with her back against the wall, her arms around her legs, the metal box by her side.
The little boy is at the window, peering over the edge. The further they get from the garden, the more he appears to be coming out of his dream state.
Thea pulls the gate closed, then reaches through the window to yank the stop/start lever. The carriage shudders and squeals into motion, gliding out of the station.
Clara and the boy laugh in delight, peering down at the distant village. It looks like a toy fort from here, little blocks tipped out at the foot of the volcano, a tiny wall built around them. The ocean glitters in the bay, the grey concrete pier almost invisible against the beautiful expanse of blue water.
The boy’s wandering eyes reach the black fog encircling the island. Clara follows his gaze, only to shudder and turn away. Most of the villagers never look at world’s end. They’ve taught themselves not to notice it, the way people used to ignore the snarling dog in the garden next door.
Behind them, Hui groans miserably. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her head is hanging between her knees. It’s taking every ounce of her self-control to keep from vomiting.
It’s a four-minute descent, the ground growing closer every second, until they’re gliding through a gap in the rear wall of the village and pulling into its cable-car station.