Swallowed

Chapter 16

16

I catch up to Ben easily. And by the time we return to camp, the air between us is crackling with unspent tension. We hardly spoke on the walk, and I’m thankful for it. There’s too much in my head, the flowers, the argument with Darcie — too much. And the last thing I want is to argue with Ben. So I keep my mouth shut.

But as we enter camp, it becomes immediately clear that something’s wrong. A heavy, unseen cloud hangs over camp, vibrating at my senses, pressing down until my ears pop. Wrongness infiltrates every pore. Raised voices come from inside the main tent. Darcie sounds sharp and agitated. But Julian… Their voice cuts through me, even from the edges of camp. They’re frightened. No, not just that. Terrified. Different . Like they’ve lost some part of themselves, and they’re going mad.

I know a broken person when I hear one.

Ben and I share a look, then break into a run. We burst inside, shoulder to shoulder.

“Well, look who it is,” Darcie spits, turning to us. “Tweedle Ho and Tweedle Slut.”

Julian stares as if they hardly recognize us. They’re sitting at the table, a cup of seemingly untouched water in front of them. Their glasses, folded neatly, sit next to the water. Their hair, usually pristine, is matted with dirt and bits of plant matter.

“What’s going on here?” Ben demands.

Darcie snorts. “Like you care.”

“He cares,” Julian says, their voice devoid of inflection. They peer at Ben as if seeing him for the first time. “He’s not our dad, but he cares like he is.”

“Yeah, okay,” Darcie says gently. “Whatever you say, Jules.” I notice that her hands are shaking.

“Cut the bullshit,” Ben barks. “Report. Now.”

Julian flinches.

Darcie’s nostrils flare. She lifts her chin, and I wonder how much fear is contained within her, how much she’s trying to hide. “Something happened to Julian in the plain.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Julian mumbles.

I can’t take my eyes away from Julian. They’re somewhere far away. This isn’t the Julian I know.

“Explain,” Ben says, jaw tight.

“After I came back to camp, right after you ran off after Jill for the millionth time,” Darcie says acidly, “Julian wanted to go, I don’t know, look at the grass or something.”

“The tree,” Julian says.

“Whatever, they wanted to check out the tree. The one you use for target practice. See if they made any bullseyes, I guess. I didn’t want to. I said we could go later.” Darcie’s mouth twists. “They went anyway, without me. I didn’t notice they were gone for ages, and then… well, by then it was too late.”

Ben looks between Darcie and Julian, frowning. “Too late for what, Farreira? Is this a quarantine situation? ‘Cause Fleming is not looking so good.”

“I’m fine ,” Julian says, smiling distantly.

“Fuck off with your quarantine,” Darcie snaps. “You think I’d be in here with them if I was worried about that? They’re not sick . You didn’t see— you didn’t see what—”

“It’s okay,” Ben says, moving toward Darcie, hands up like he’s attempting to calm a wild animal. “What did you see? Is there reason to believe there’s an imminent threat here?”

Darcie scoffs. “Imminent? It already happened. You missed it.”

Ben doesn’t back down. “Is Fleming a threat?”

“I’m not a threat,” Julian warbles. Their heavy-lidded gaze flits between Darcie and Ben.

“I know you’re not,” murmurs Darcie.

“We don’t know that,” Ben says at the same time. “I’d put you under quarantine, Fleming, but if there’s something infecting you, it’s probably infected all of us by now.”

“That’s kind of you,” Julian mumbles. “But I’m okay. I think you should just let me go back. I didn’t get to see all of her. There’s so much of her. Like a painting. Like a painting. So perfect. I want to see all of her. So beautiful.” Their words become chant-like.

Ben and Darcie share a hostile, loaded look.

“Jules, what happened?” I say, moving closer. Their words spark a fear in me that I can’t tamp down. “What did you see?”

Darcie eyes me with fiery disapproval.

Ben watches me too, tight-lipped. I wonder if he’s worried I’ll tell on us both. Or maybe he’s regretting what happened in the forest.

“Jules?” I persist. “You okay?”

They nod, now staring sullenly at their water glass. “She kidnapped me.”

I glance at Darcie. Raise my eyebrows.

“Nobody kidnapped anybody,” Darcie growls. “Jules didn’t want to come back to camp with me. I had to drag them. They were…” She throws up her hands, sighing. “It’s impossible to describe. You won’t fucking believe me.”

“Yes, they will,” Julian says, perking up. “She was so beautiful.”

“Who was?” I ask, sitting next to Julian at the table. I’m so completely uninterested in what anyone else has to say.

“Fleming is obviously delirious,” Ben says, almost a warning.

“Shut up ,” Darcie barks.

“Jules,” I press. I lay a hand on their shoulder, and they jerk slightly, as if they hadn’t realized I was there. “It’s okay. You can tell me, I believe you. Who did you see in the plain? Who was so beautiful?”

They turn to me, their dark eyes glazed with faraway tears. Their cheeks are flushed red, feverish in the lamplight. “The Planet.”

Ben shifts his weight. I notice his hand rests on his gun.

Darcie crosses her arms.

“The Planet?” I repeat. “But she’s everywhere.”

“Yes,” says Julian, lighting up. “She is. God, she’s beautiful. I saw her out there, on the plain. She called to me. So, I went to her.”

My heartbeat thuds heavily in my ears. The room narrows to just Julian and me. “What did she say to you?”

A tear falls from Julian’s eye, running along their cheek until it disappears beneath their chin. Their voice is a low hush, their lips quivering. “That everything’s going to be okay.”

“That’s all?”

Julian blinks. “No, that’s not all . She showed me the most beautiful thing. Like a dream, you know, so vivid, better than Earth. Better than anything. It was so perfect. So beautiful. Like a painting.”

“A painting of what?”

Julian’s brows furrow. They shake their head. “It was so perfect. I just wanted to see more. To be happy. But Darcie kidnapped me. She won’t let me go back. Jill?”

“Jules?”

They hold my gaze with a watery stare. Their pupils are enormous black pools, so dilated that I see no iris at all. “She interrupted me. Bring me back, Jill?”

“I…”

“See?” Darcie says, and my surroundings come rushing back. “They’re traumatized. This is your fault.”

“They’re sick,” Ben corrects.

“No, they’re fucking not ,” Darcie spits, her eyes wide with rage. “Fuck you. I saw something insane out there. It was… it was the grass, and flowers, and—”

“Darcie,” I interrupt, swallowing a bead of fear, “did you have your vest cam on?”

There’s a moment of tense silence. I wonder if Darcie is thinking the same thing I am: That she could demand to see our cams, see what happened between Ben and me in the forest. That she’d get nothing out of it because my cam is still off. I hold my breath.

“Yeah,” Darcie says, “yeah. I did.”

My relief is short-lived. We sit around the table and set up Ben’s tablet, using an empty mug as a tripod. No one speaks. I could cut the tension with a knife. We crowd around as Ben transfers the mini tape from Darcie’s cam to his tablet. Even Julian seems mildly interested, their attention drifting from the middle distance to the screen as Ben fast-forwards to the right time stamp.

The vid begins.

The footage is grainy and dark, but I recognize it immediately as the plain. Grasses arc toward Darcie as she walks, reaching for her. But that’s not what I focus on. My gaze is drawn immediately to a strange shape in the distance, rising above the grass. Something almost human, but too tall, writhing and blurry.

“What the…?” Darcie’s voice comes through warped in the recording. “What the fuck is…” There’s a crackle: her walkie. “Ben, come in.”

Nothing.

“Benjamin, respond .” Panic rises in her voice. Crackle. “Jill? Come in.”

Silence.

My stomach turns to stone, and I feel Ben pointedly not looking at me.

“Where the fuck are you, assholes?”

Then Darcie starts to run. The camera shakes violently as she sprints forward, and the distant shape grows clearer.

“Jules,” Darcie calls out, strangled. “Jules! Jules?”

I can’t make it out. I can’t see what she sees.

Darcie stops suddenly and bends over, the camera fixed on her boots in the grass. She’s breathing hard, winded from the run. “Fuck,” she repeats.

When she straightens, we finally see it. A human shape. Julian. It can’t be anyone but Julian, though their silhouette is dark against the sky in the grainy video.

“What is that?” Ben asks, peering at the screen.

“Shut up and watch,” Darcie snaps.

I shoot a furtive look at Ben, and like an idiot, he’s already watching me. I press my lips together and turn back to the tablet. I don’t want it to be true, but I know what I see. It’s not just Julian in the video. It’s Julian and a thick, writhing column of vines. The vines encase Julian’s form, lifting them up until they’re at least eight feet tall, their feet dangling, their head thrown back as if in agony. Or ecstasy.

The vines sway, holding Julian aloft. They slowly coil around their limbs like snakes, tighter and tighter.

“Jules,” Darcie says in the video like a hopeless prayer, and there is a rip of Velcro and the sound of fumbling. She’s looking for something in one of her pockets. The video becomes obscured by her hands for a moment. “Where is it?” she whispers desperately. “ Where is it? ”

But I’m focused on what’s happening to Julian in the vid. Flowers begin to sprout from the vines, and like a time-lapse, they bloom all at the same time. Loud, spring-like, vibrant flowers. Just like the ones in the forest.

Julian begins to shudder on screen.

I feel sick. I think of my mother, her team disappearing one by one. Did they… was this… is this what happened to them ? But I don’t even know what this is.

I’m going to throw up.

Somehow sensing my discomfort, Ben reaches out a hand, hooking my pinky finger with his. The small gesture grounds me. Brings me back in the present.

In Darcie’s video, Julian falls still. Their head lolls. And from their mouth, delicate and triumphant, blooms a white flower.

The camera shakes. Darcie rushes forward, uttering a string of curses. She’s hacking at the vines with a knife, hacking and hacking, pulling with her free hand. The vines break and snap, and with each severed strand, they fall to the ground.

“We don’t have to keep watching,” Darcie says, her voice dull. “I obviously cut them free. They survive.”

“Wait,” I say, eyes glued to the recording. “I need to—”

Ben reaches over and switches it off. There’s a crackle, and the screen goes dark.

“Ben,” I protest, throwing him a look. I need to see what happens.

He shakes his head.

Darcie grits her teeth.

“See? Darcie kidnapped me,” Julian murmurs. “You saw it. I was safe. Everything was perfect. Beautiful. Like a painting.”

Darcie says, without inflection, “I pulled that flower out of Julian’s mouth. An entire root system came with it. They were puking blood afterward. It grew out of them. ”

“That’s impossible,” I say automatically, snapping into scientist mode, a coping mechanism. “Plants can’t—”

“No, you’re right, Jill,” Darcie interrupts, spinning on me. Her eyes are black with rage. “I doctored the footage. I did it all for a laugh. Did you enjoy my prank, you fucking pedantic botanist bitch?”

“Farreira, that’s enough.” Ben’s tone falls heavy over the group. “No one’s saying you lied. It’s just a hell of a lot to take in.”

“Of course you’d defend her,” Darcie snipes. “You’ve been mooning over her since day one.”

Ben and I glance at each other, then turn away as if burned. He hasn’t. Darcie’s just angry, winding us up.

“Don’t be mad,” Julian says, turning to Darcie. “I know you were trying to help. But it’s okay. Next time, you don’t have to.”

Darcie’s nostrils flare, her jaw taut. For a moment, she sits there, saying nothing. Abruptly, she stands, gives us all an icy glare, and storms to the exit. When she reaches the tent flap, she turns.

“Next time,” she says, catching and holding my gaze, “at least keep your walkies on while you’re fucking in the woods.”