‘Raffin?’ Eve asks, in her throaty voice.
Kate nods. ‘The raven is dead, sweetie.’
Eve doesn’t reply, just stands, staring down at the rumpled shape. The moment stretches on. Finally Eve nods, steps past the bird and heads on up the path. She does not look back.
That night Kate wonders what had passed through Eve’s mind in that moment. Grief is well known among animals, especially primates, and there is evidence at least some animals understand the idea of death, its blank irretrievability. Yet what does it mean to ‘understand’ death? She is not sure she understands it herself, except as a sense of blank absence.
Yet still, Eve is happiest outside, moving through the trees. Out there her physical strength grants her confidence. But it is more than just her physical prowess. When she is in the bush she seems more alive, her body attuned to her surroundings, preternaturally alert. More than once Kate has watched her ascend a hill, moving fast and low, as fluid as a cat. Her hearing and sense of smell are similarly heightened; frequently when they are out she will fall still suddenly, raise her head, sniffing or listening for something Kate cannot hear, her body tensed. Sometimes she will glance back at Kate and smile, her wide face full of delight or excitement; other times she will run on, oblivious, focused on whatever it is she is doing.
They are walking like this one day in April when Kate pauses on an outcrop at the top of a ridge. To the south, cloud is gathering. This lonely island is not her country – its dark stone and wind-scoured topography are nothing like the softer landscapes she knew as a child on the mainland. Yet after seven years here she has come to understand something of its beauty, its finality. Once, years ago, she read a poem about the islands to the south – Macquarie, Heard, Kergelen – and was brought to a halt by the description of them forming ‘full stops to sentences about the end of the world’. Perhaps something similar is true of here, she thinks, this place suspended at the end of things. Or perhaps everywhere is like that now, as the world rushes on, towards disaster.
Turning, she looks around for Eve. They are high, and although she knows she has grown complacent about Eve’s capacity to assess risk, she does not like the thought of Eve unsupervised above the drop. Unable to see her she takes a step sideways and, as her foot touches the ground, something shifts beneath it, and she slips sideways.
There is an awful moment when she hangs suspended, her balance lost but her body not yet falling, a moment in which she sees with horrible clarity the space around her, the body-shattering rocks below, the moment stretching on and on, until all at once she feels space give way beneath her. Twisting sideways, she tries to right herself, swinging herself away from the edge, but only far enough to avoid the plunge into the air. Overhead the sky wheels past, and she slips down the face of the rock, crashing past ferns and lichen, striking rocks and on, down the hill face, until she lands, heavily, and is thrown outward across a ledge. For a few seconds she is too stunned to move, too shocked to feel anything. But then she tries to sit up, only to cry out as pain stabs up from her leg, sharp, blinding. She drops down again, closing her eyes against it. Then she moves once more, stifling a sob as she turns over and looks at her leg.
It is not obviously twisted or bent, but each time she moves it the pain is almost overwhelming, and now the initial shock of the fall is passing, she is aware of a deeper, more persistent pain. When she was a child she broke her wrist falling off a swing: she remembers the subterranean ache of it, and knows, without needing to be told, she has broken a bone. She smiles grimly, consoling herself that at least the pain means she hasn’t damaged her spine, but as she does she remembers Eve, and looks up, following the line of broken branches up to the ledge ten metres above her. Eve is standing, staring down, her wide face pale. Kate tries to move but pain stabs through her, and she lets out a cry. Opening her eyes again, she sees Eve has pulled back, away from her.
‘Eve,’ she says, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. ‘Are you okay?’
Eve hesitates and then nods slowly. Kate takes a breath. ‘That’s good. Now, do you know the way back to the house?’
Eve nods again.
‘And you could find your way back here?’
This time Eve has to think about it: ‘Yes.’
‘Okay. I need you to go back and find my phone. Call Jay. Tell him I’ve broken my leg and I need help. Then do what he tells you. Can you do that?’
Eve nods.
‘That’s good. Don’t be frightened. And don’t forget: call Jay. And make sure you listen to what he says.’
‘Can’t you come?’
Kate shakes her head. ‘I can’t. So, you have to get him, and bring help.’
Eve’s face is pale, terrified.
‘I know you can do it,’ Kate says. When Eve doesn’t move she smiles again, as convincingly as she can. ‘Now, go.’
A moment passes and then Eve backs away and disappears. Kate slumps back, whimpering as she closes her eyes in an attempt to block out the pain.
Although the day was clear when they set out, as the morning passes clouds feed in, bringing cold air and specks of rain. Trapped on the ledge, Kate stares out across the valley, trying not to think about what will happen if the weather really turns. Only a few months ago a pair of hikers went missing not far from here, their bodies turning up a week later. At the time Kate had been careful not to tell Eve the story, something she is glad of now, but still, it is an unwelcome reminder of her vulnerability. Closing her eyes, she does the sums again, trying to calculate how long it will take for Eve to get home, to speak to Jay, but she finds it difficult to keep the order of events straight in her head.
Sometime after noon the wind begins to pick up, the temperature dropping again, and soon after, it begins to rain. At first the cold brings her back to herself, making her predicament more acute, but within a few minutes she is shivering, her teeth chattering as she tries to huddle in closer against the wind, and soon after that she finds herself slipping again, losing minutes, or possibly longer.
Hours pass, and then, as she fades back into consciousness, she hears movement above, a voice, and looking up sees Jay scrambling down towards her.
‘Kate, thank God,’ he says, kneeling beside her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘My leg,’ she says. ‘I think it’s broken.’
Jay follows her gaze. ‘Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you out of here.’ Behind him a woman in the white overalls of a paramedic drops down, and Kate leans back, closing her eyes again.
Between the cliff face and the hospital she slides back into unconsciousness, time slipping past her. When she opens her eyes she is in a corridor, Jay beside her. For a second or two she does not know where she is, then fear knifes through her.
‘Where is she?’ she asks, grabbing Jay’s arm. ‘Where’s Eve?’
‘She’s fine,’ he says. ‘Cassie is with her.’
Kate leans back and stares at the ceiling.
‘That’s good,’ she says.
Over the next few hours she is examined and x-rayed, before being moved into surgery. When she wakes again she is in a bed, Jay beside her. When he smiles at her she feels a rush of love that surprises her, and reaching out takes his hand, grateful for its warmth, his presence.
They discharge her the next day, the wait for her doctor’s approval delaying her departure so long that it is dark by the time she and Jay reach the house. Eve and Cassie step out the door as they arrive; silhouetted in the light from within, their icy breath a pale nimbus. Eve is already at the car by the time Jay opens Kate’s door. Kate winces as Eve wraps herself around her. Ignoring the wash of pain, she draws her close. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she says, pressing her face to her head and breathing in the smell of shampoo in her coarse hair. ‘Have you been good for Cassie?’
Eve nods.
‘I’m sorry I frightened you. But I’m so proud of you.’
She can feel the tension in Eve’s body.
‘Will it be
okay?’ Eve asks, staring at her leg.
Kate nods. ‘Eventually. But only thanks to you.’ Shifting in her seat, she slides her leg out and takes her crutches from Jay. ‘Now we have to get you to bed. It’s so late!’
Kate’s leg heals slowly. For much of the time she is stuck in the house, incapable of driving, walking more than short distances. The presence of Cassie in her and Eve’s life means this is easier than it would have been a year earlier, her days with Eve allowing Kate time to work and convalesce.
Yet while Kate has learned to work with Cassie she has never really warmed to her. This is partly because she dislikes the younger woman’s manner, not just her wide-eyed American enthusiasm, but also the carefully correct way Cassie behaves towards her, the constant implication Kate is somebody who needs to be managed. At first Kate assumed this to be simply another manifestation of the generalised mistrust of her by those associated with the original project – she knows Cassie and Mylin are close – but in recent months she has begun to wonder whether there is more to it than that. On several occasions she has caught Cassie and Jay in conversation when they thought themselves unobserved, and been struck by the way they stood close to each other, Cassie’s unguarded laughter. And while the grateful affection she felt for Jay on the day of her accident has faded, there is no question he is more relaxed with Kate, suggesting he is happier.
Meanwhile, however, there are other problems. Although the release of de-extincted species continues apace, in October Davis is sidelined into an honorary role at Gather after a much-publicised disagreement with the board. According to the press releases he is pleased with this outcome, and the opportunity to devote more time to the Foundation, but it is widely understood he has been put on notice, and the board will no longer tolerate his public excesses.
Kate is made uneasy by these realignments, and by the growing sense the Foundation’s work is being overtaken by external events. In the Arctic images of woolly rhino and mammoth roaming across the empty landscape are increasingly blotted out by videos of melting ice and fires sweeping through the grasslands, while governments in Europe and elsewhere are falling to leaders who see advantage in division and fear.
In the week after her cast is removed Kate finally agrees to take Eve to visit Sami in the city. Although Yassamin is keen for her to visit them at home, Kate declines, instead suggesting they meet in a playground on the city’s outskirts. On the day appointed she bundles Eve into the car, relieved to see Eve is happy and excited at the prospect of seeing Sami. It is mid-morning by the time they arrive. Kate selected this park for the meeting because of its relative seclusion, and as they pull up she is pleased to see the only other car is Yassamin’s. Climbing out of the car Kate unclips Eve; by the play equipment on the park’s far side Yassamin waves, and while Kate locks the car she begins to walk towards her. Yassamin is wearing oversized black sunglasses; against her dark hair they make her look like Jackie Onassis, but when she reaches Kate she takes them off and embraces her warmly.
Kate is relieved. Although Yassamin visited once while she was recuperating, the visit was awkward and marred by Sami and Eve’s constant – and uncharacteristic – bickering. While Sami and Eve climb and play the two of them sit on a bench and talk. Yassamin is happy: the boss who had been making her life difficult has been moved and replaced with a man she likes much better. ‘He is very handsome as well,’ she says. ‘Although obviously that is irrelevant.’
After an hour or so Yassamin suggests coffee, but Sami and Eve both refuse to leave, standing next to each other and shouting ‘Nooooooo!’ in a parody of childish misbehaviour. Yassamin laughs, and suggests Kate stay with the children while she drives to a cafe a kilometre or so back down the road.
With Yassamin gone Kate settles back on the bench to watch the two children. Although Sami is several months older and a head taller than Eve her compact body is visibly more agile and powerful, and she has a physical confidence he cannot match. Yet despite Eve’s shyness, her wariness when it comes to expressing herself, when she is with Sami she forgets her reserve, laughing and playing without concern. By contrast Sami seems to require constant approval, his neediness a stark contrast to Eve’s containment. Even now, as they play, he turns to her constantly, checking she is watching, that she has noticed him.
After a few minutes Sami runs towards her, asking for food. Kate glances around. Seeing nobody she decides the two of them will be safe, and heads back to the car. But as she is walking back she realises a group of children have appeared, and are gathered at the far end of the play area, their backs to her. She begins to hurry, searching for Eve, but she is nowhere to be seen. Then there is a cry of distress.
‘Hey!’ she shouts. The children do not turn, but she has time to see one of them – a boy with blond hair – roll to one side and back, his arms scrabbling towards his armpits, his face contorted in a grotesque parody of an ape, and beyond him, Eve huddled on the equipment, her face turned away.
‘Hey!’ she shouts again. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
This time two of the children turn, startled expressions on their faces. One of them – a boy with black hair – seems to be considering darting away, but before he can Kate shoves them aside and sweeps Eve up. Pushing her hair back, she searches her face for evidence of harm.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks. Eve cowers away from her.
‘Eve?’ she presses.
Finally Eve nods, and Kate turns back to the children. Perhaps still surprised by her interruption, they have not fled, although most have backed away. For the first time she sees Sami off to one side, his manner telling her he was not one of the tormenters, but nor did he defend Eve.
‘What were you doing?’ she demands, staring wildly from one to the next. There are four of them: the blond boy, a smaller girl who stands with her mouth open, the boy with the black hair and a skinny boy with ginger hair.
‘Well?’ she demands.
‘Just playing,’ the girl says resentfully. Kate stares at her.
‘Well, it didn’t look like you were just playing.’
The girl looks down.
‘And you?’ Kate asks, leaning towards the blond boy. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
He stares back, unmoved. His eyes are clear, blue, his hair white gold and fine where it sweeps up from his forehead. ‘We were just mucking around,’ he says, his expression daring her to contradict him.
Kate stares back at him. He is six, possibly seven, little more than half her height. Yet she feels his cool pleasure in his own power.
‘Is that what you call it?’ she asks, surprised by the cold fury in her voice.
‘Jeez, lady, don’t get so worked up,’ says the ginger-haired one.
There is a ripple of laughter. Kate feels something shift.
‘You should be ashamed of yourselves,’ she says, adjusting her grip on Eve, who is clinging to her. The blond boy’s gaze does not waver, but some secret amusement passes between the ginger-haired one and the other two.
Aware the situation is slipping out of her control, she extends a hand to Sami to indicate he should follow, and steps past them. But almost at once she hears one of them whisper, ‘Oo-oo-oo, monkey girl.’
Enraged, she swings around to find the blond one staring at her, his face lit with amusement. Behind him the ginger-haired one is laughing openly.
‘You little shit!’ she explodes, but as she does she hears a shout from behind her.
‘Hey! What’s going on?’
She turns to see a heavy-set woman with frizzy brown hair approaching from the other side of the park. The woman places a solicitous hand on the ginger-haired boy’s shoulder.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks him.
The boy tries to look rueful and nods.
‘Did she hurt you?’
‘She shouted at us,’ says the blond one, his voice clear, careful. The woman swivels to stare at Kate. Her small eyes are hard.
‘They’d cornered
my daughter and were picking on her,’ Kate says, aware even as she speaks of how weak her words sound. The woman regards her coldly.
‘And where were you when this was happening?’
Kate feels her dislike of the woman tip over into anger. ‘I could ask you the same.’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t the one abusing children in a playground.’
Kate is about to snap back when Eve whimpers and presses her face into Kate’s leg. Realising her display of anger has frightened her, Kate chokes back a retort. Perhaps mistaking her silence for defeat, the woman smiles unpleasantly. Kate grabs Sami’s wrist.
‘Come on,’ she says, and without looking back drags the two of them towards the car park, but when they reach it she realises Yassamin is not back, and she cannot put both children in her car. She stares ahead, resisting the impulse to go back, wipe the look of bland superiority off the woman’s face, although in a way it is not the woman who has enraged her but the entire situation: the cool certainty of the children, their tormenting of Eve, their – correct, as it turns out – belief they will get away with it. Not for the first time she feels the pull of misanthropy, of the consoling hatred of the human race, its cupidity and cruelty, its heedless destruction of that which it doesn’t understand. Trembling with silent fury, she heads on, towards the road, hoping Yassamin is not far away. As they walk she squeezes Eve’s hand. ‘I love you,’ she says fiercely. ‘You know that, right?’ But even as she speaks she does not know whether she is saying it for Eve’s sake or her own.
Homo Genocidus
Kate is in the supermarket car park when her phone rings. A Sydney number she does not recognise. She considers ignoring it, but at the last moment presses the button, holds the phone to her ear.
‘Is this Kate Larkin?’ asks a woman’s voice.
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