Chapter 13
13
The next morning, Darcie and I decide to visit the forest. We’ve grown bored with the plain. Or Darcie has, complaining about its endless soft curves and the one tree Julian and Ben use as target practice, the tree they can’t hit no matter how hard they try. I could spend a lifetime in those grasses, underneath this gorgeous sun.
The forest has been, up until now, Ben and Julian’s domain. They’re testing the air, looking for animal life, conducting all kinds of surveys. Darcie declares it’s our turn that morning at breakfast, and I have no reason to argue. It doesn’t matter that I’m still a ball of nervous energy, that my skin seems to hum from Ben’s touch, even now. It doesn’t matter that the forest makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Ben and I pointedly avoid eye contact in the main tent, despite him being an even brighter beacon to me now. He’s a thing my body can’t resist, pulling me in despite my best efforts.
“So, what’s the deal?” Darcie asks when we’re well away from camp.
“What deal?”
She glances sidelong. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying when you’re trying to play coy. With Ben , obviously. You were like a live wire in there just now, jolting whenever he came within five feet of you. And bitch, I saw him run after you last night. I’m not an idiot. Did you finally fuck?”
“No.”
I turn to study Darcie’s profile as we walk. There’s something hard-edged in her tone, in the way the corners of her mouth are turned down. And then I see it. I was stupid not to notice. I’ve been so wrapped up in my blue balls to see anything past my own nose. Her eyes are shadowed, her brows drawn. And her movements are stiffer, more deliberate. The heavy cloud is back, enveloping her in its shadow.
“Too bad,” she says.
She’s not teasing me like she normally would. Suddenly, I don’t want to go into the forest with her. Not when she’s like this. I guess I naively thought the Planet was helping, that she was finally breaking free of the memories of her ex, his death, the trial.
Maybe we can’t ever break free of things like that.
I button up my jacket to my chin. It’s cold, and I’m glad I decided to wear my warmest wool socks.
We’re nearing the tree line. It’s an old, old forest. I can tell by the size and quiet of the trees, the way they seem to listen. I’ll be able to calculate their ages with the proper equipment, but I know in my heart that they are ancient. Methuselah, Earth’s oldest tree before it burned, was a child compared to these.
I allow myself to think about Earth, the broken thing we left behind. But instead of what it is, I think of how it was: our ancient biomes, the glorious balance of nature, the give and take. Plants consuming nutrients from the earth and sun; animals consuming plants; all of life, growing and decaying, and eventually giving itself to the soil. A perfect cycle, life and death playing out like poetry for billions of years.
Until we destroyed it.
“Darce,” I say slowly. The trees rise up to meet us, and I’m dying to touch their rough bark. “Do you think we deserve it?”
She shoots me a look. “Deserve what?”
We come to the tree line, and I pause, lifting my palm to touch the closest tree trunk, its dew-wet bark. I close my eyes. “Hope. Saving. Another chance.”
“Of course we do,” she answers, her words glassy.
“We had our chance,” I say, almost to myself, not caring if Darcie is interested in the conversation. “Our planet. We fucked it up. Maybe we shouldn’t get a second one.”
A hand falls on my shoulder. I open my eyes, and Darcie is staring at me with annoyance and a hint of something sharper. “The Planet is a gift. It’s our opportunity to do it right this time. Now are you done having a moment? Let’s go.”
I hesitate.
I’m hyper-aware of her hand on me and my hand on the weathered bark of this ancient tree. But they’re so utterly different. Each life, so incredibly varied, and yet… the same energy flows through us. The tree seems to sigh against me.
Oh, fuck.
Suddenly, I know exactly how old the tree is. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. It has spent seven thousand eight hundred and thirty-nine years under this sun. Its lifeblood pulses deep, but I feel its relentless flow. Hello , I think, and I’m certain the tree understands. Darcie and I are conduits, electricity sparking through muscle and tissue, machines of biology, trillions of miles from home. The entirety of the forest is throbbing at such a deep, slow register that I shouldn’t be able to sense it.
But I can.
The grass was one thing, its delicate touch, the way it soothed me, made me feel at home. But this is new. This is crazy. I can feel the forest’s heartbeat. Or maybe I’m going insane.
“ Jill ,” Darcie’s voice cuts through my hazy thoughts. “You can touch as many trees as you want in your own time. Come on.”
I draw my hand away from the trunk, following Darcie into the damp, cool forest. Soft moss seems to surge beneath my boots. Dripping ferns tentatively stroke my legs as I pass. The womb of the woods pulls us deeper in.
We should have come here sooner. I should have come here with Ben.
We drift deeper.
It’s quiet. Like the vacuum of space, I think, an unplumbed depth. It’s beautiful in the way of a Venus fly trap, or the deep melody of a black hole, unsettling but heady, intoxicating.
“What do you think?” Darcie says after a long, long silence. She gestures toward a cluster of white, round things thrust up from the soil in amongst the ferns. “Fungi? Could be interesting. The mycelium ecosystem would tell us a lot.”
I nod, distracted. “Yeah. Good call.”
She gives me a sour look. “Are you paying attention to anything I say?”
“What?”
“That’s what I thought. What the hell is wrong with you, girl?”
I swallow, shaking my head. What is wrong with me? “I dunno. Sorry, Darce. It’s the forest. I feel… weird.”
She eyes me. “You look weird. Is it your mom?”
I’m immediately on the defensive. “What do you mean?”
“I mean , I can tell when you’re thinking about her. So this forest must have some significance.” Her voice takes on a patronizing tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go any further, you don’t have to.”
She’s baiting me. I fucking hate it when she’s like this. I know it’s just a product of what she’s suffered, but I’d rather not be on the receiving end of it. I wish we were back in the plain, wading in the icy river, laughing with the sky overhead. Now, all that’s above us is thick boughs of interlocking leaves, green and brown and gray. If I was alone, or with Ben, I’d be fine. But with Darcie here…
“I’m fine,” I say. I shouldn’t let her get to me, but she does. “Let’s grab the mushrooms and go. Unless you’d rather keep baiting me about my mom?”
Darcie shifts her weight, and for a moment, I think she’ll turn away, focus on the mushrooms. Then a shadow passes over her face. “Don’t you ever wonder if she did it?”
I’m actually impressed by the audacity. Of all the things I thought she’d ask, this wasn’t at the top of the list, Dark Darcie or not. “If she what , murdered them?”
She shrugs. “They never did find the bodies.”
“The deaths were never officially confirmed.”
She eyes me, skeptical. “Like I said, they never found the bodies . But it’s obvious.”
There’s something in Darcie’s eyes that I don’t trust. Is she still in control? Is she still Darcie at all? Because knowing what she did to her shitty ex, and being alone with her in the quiet forest with that expression on her face, are two entirely different things. I back away slightly. “What is?”
“Something went wrong.” She tilts her head, hawk-like in the dusky light. “Someone went psycho and killed them all. Who else could it have been?”
“Fuck off, Darce.” The words come out reedy and pathetic. Why did Darcie bring me out here? Why was she so insistent on visiting the forest? Unease flutters behind my ribcage. I suddenly wonder what this conversation would be like if Ben wasn’t the only one with a sidearm.
“Andrews went first, didn’t she?” Darcie persists. “Went into the forest, never came back.”
I don’t want to think about Andrews. “No, let’s not—”
“There’s a documented argument between her and your mother,” Darcie continues, stepping toward me. “They almost came to blows.”
“That’s an exaggeration.” Another weak protest.
Darcie makes a face. A face that says, Don’t kid yourself.
“My mother wasn’t like that,” I bite out defiantly.
“I’m just saying.” Darcie sniffs so casually that I suddenly want to lunge at her. “You know how it looks.”
I hold her darkened gaze for a long moment. “Any more questions about how my mom is a killer?”
“That’s all for now,” she says.
And the way she says those four lazy words, like I’m the one who should bear the brunt of everything my mother saw and everything my mother lost, everything I never got to have, snaps something in me.
“No, go ahead,” I press, angling toward her. “Keep going, Darce. Don’t you want to know all the sordid details I must be holding back? Maybe you want some tips. Is that it? Hoping for some advice, killer to killer’s daughter?”
At first, Darcie doesn’t react. She only stares, her eyes so intense I take a step back. I shouldn’t have said that. I really fucking should not have said that. I know she wouldn’t hurt us, any of us, but the way she’s looking at me now… well, maybe I’m not so sure. We’re far from camp. She’s taller and stronger than me. If I radioed Ben, if Darcie really wanted to, she could find some way to kill me before he got to us. We both know it.
After an interminable silence, she blinks. Rolls her neck. “Fuck you, Jill Jones.”
“Fuck you ,” I throw back.
She narrows her eyes, then shrugs. “He deserved it.”
I let out a slow, shaking breath. “I know.”
“Murdering your abusive ex is inherently morally acceptable, you said.”
“Well, that was…”
“You said.”
“That was before you were being a dickhead.”
She glares, and for a moment, the fear rushes back up my gullet, and I’m choking on it. This isn’t Earth. We are trillions of miles from anywhere. Who would attend the funeral?
“I need more coffee,” Darcie announces. “And I’m tired of looking at your pathetic, terrified face.”
Before I can stop her, or apologize, or try to mend the rift between us in any way, she spins on her heel and strides away, back toward camp. Leaving me alone, utterly alone, deep in the forest.