The Last Tree

by Denise Getson

  Last year, Thorne had tracked me and J.D. clear across Delta Territory. After capturing us at Slag, it had taken months of planning and effort to escape. That escape had nearly cost me my life. I’d learned some hard lessons. The first one was never to trust Lukas Thorne. Taking a shallow breath, I close my eyes and listen intently.

  “I had one of my lab techs test the new soil that came in with the storm,” says the woman. I hear muted clicking, like tapping on a keyboard. “It looks viable. My replacement will complete the analysis, but I think the crop department will be able to relocate a portion of what they need for the next growing season.”

  “The storm was good news then.”

  “This time.”

  There’s silence.

  “Regarding the subject I mentioned last evening,” Thorne says smoothly.

  “The tree.”

  “I’ll expect your report once you’ve had a chance to assess the situation in Eden. If there’s anything you need—data, tools, supplies, anything—add it to the requisition list or contact me personally.”

  “I continue to be concerned about the tectonic instability of this area, Lukas. Surely there’s a better, safer location for a new biosphere.”

  “I understand your concern. The people there are a bit swept up in the idea of it. Cradle of civilization and all that. But their passion for the project is producing remarkable results. We’ve got plant species taking root which haven’t been able to germinate anywhere else.”

  “But to call it Eden, Lukas—it’s so sentimental.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a stabilizing influence, Claire. Naturally, your first order of business is conducting a soil and seed bank survey and leading the efforts for agricultural sustainability.”

  “I understand my role.”

  Silence falls over the room again, and I strain my ears not to miss so much as a whisper. Afraid to make a movement that might attract their attention, I relax when the woman resumes speaking.

  “Did you take a look at Lost Lake this morning? I went out briefly. It’s … impressive.”

  “I’ll go out later. My team is there now, keeping an eye on things.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Purely as a precaution. Now that we know our notices about the water provision weren’t posted, we’re rectifying the situation. Updates have been loaded onto the Net and staff members who work with the United Territory Council are answering questions on-site.”

  “That should quell any unwanted rumors about how the water suddenly appeared.”

  “It should.”

  I stifle a laugh. It’s typical of Thorne to act like the Territory is in control of Lost Lake. He’s a smooth liar. I can’t help wondering if Thorne’s team is also looking for clues that might help them locate me and my friends. Over the past year, we’ve gotten pretty good at covering our tracks. Our destinations are unpredictable by anyone’s standards. I leave my mark—a small pink flower—at each fill site because I want people to know the water is my work. I want them to whisper, to wonder. Of course, Thorne is the one person in the world who knows the truth about the water regardless of whether my mark is found. J.D. and I agreed we would encourage the rumors about me because it casts doubt on Territory control. Our hope is it may eventually attract others to our cause. It doesn’t hurt that every time I create water, it angers Thorne, a reminder to him that I’m not under his control. I like making him angry, even when it increases the bounty on my head. I understood why Thorne might be at Bio-19 in view of Lost Lake being filled—it wouldn’t surprise me if he personally investigated all newly filled water sources—but what did he want from Dr. Gallagher?

  I hear a third person enter the room.

  “Miranda, there you are.” There’s a sound of shuffling, and I picture Dr. Gallagher shifting to include a new person in their conversation. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Lukas, this is my daughter.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miranda.”

  “Hello.”

  The voice sounds young and cautious. I’m dying to open the door a crack but too afraid to risk it. If I know Thorne, he’s performing a mental assessment of this new person, taking her measure—and no doubt finding her lacking in some way.

  “Your mother tells me you’re the one who discovered the water in Lost Lake. It must have come as quite a shock.”

  “It was … unexpected.”

  “The UTC owes you and everyone in Bio-19 an apology. Our communications director passed away last month from a sudden illness. Since then, we’ve been scrambling to restore order in our public relations department. The residents of Bio-19 were supposed to have been notified weeks ago that Lost Lake would be filled with desalinized ocean water. I hope you weren’t alarmed.”

  “I wasn’t alarmed.”

  “I see.” There’s an awkward pause. “Well, that’s good. Clearly, you’re a resilient young lady. That makes me feel better about asking your mother to work for us on another project. Eden is one of our newest biospheres. Her leadership will be invaluable to its success. You might be interested to know that a school has been established at the site and classes are already in session. Your mother informed me you’ll be completing your secondary education at Eden, but we can arrange for you to return to AgTech for your vocational training. If that’s what you want, of course.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” There’s a lack of inflection in the voice, but I sense intense emotion underlying the words. Perhaps Dr. Gallagher’s daughter isn’t thrilled by a move to a new biosphere. And apparently, Miranda is the same girl we spotted at the lake yesterday. How interesting.

  “Do you stamp a pink flower at all your water sites?” The girl’s voice vibrates with an inner tension.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “There was a pink flower stamped on the rocks next to the lakebed. I was curious if the UTC is in the habit of leaving behind a special mark when they deliver water to a biosphere?”

  “No.” Thorne’s voice is icy. “I don’t know anything about a flower.”

  “Who is Kira?”

  My heart begins to pound. I’m stunned. She knows my name. What else does she know?

  “Miranda ….” Dr. Gallagher’s tone issues a warning.

  “There is no Kira,” responds Thorne shortly. “She doesn’t exist.”

  “Then why do the Nets have Wanted Posters for her?”

  “Because agitators like to spread rumors. Most of those water sightings are completely fictitious or they’re our projects. Now we have impersonators from Alpha to Omega pretending to be this Kira and claiming they can conjure water—for the right price, of course. If you ever encounter one of these imposters, I hope you’ll report her to authorities.”

  I hold my breath, waiting to see if the girl is going to press further. She doesn’t. Smart girl.

  “Ladies,” says Thorne smoothly, “if you’ll excuse me. I have duties which require my attention.”

  “Lukas, I’ll walk you out. Miranda, I need you to stop by the clinic. There are vaccinations you need before we can depart. The nurse is expecting you.”

  I hear them leave and wait several minutes before opening the cabinet doors and sneaking out. I have to get back to the others and compare notes. Something is going on, and my gut tells me it could be important. I’m full of questions. Where is Eric’s soil research? What’s so special about this Eden? What does a tree have to do with anything? And what is Thorne’s true motivation for personally arranging for Dr. Claire Gallagher and her daughter to leave AgTech?

  3

  When I arrive back at our hiding place, I discover Tuck and J.D. have returned ahead of me.

  “Did you find the data drive?” Tamara asks.

  “It wasn’t there,” I say quietly, yanking off the hot wig and tossing it onto a rock. “But Lukas Thorne was.”

  At these words, breaths stop and every eye swivels to mine. Sparing no detail, I recount what happened in Dr. Gallagher’s laboratory.

  �
�I don’t like it,” J.D. murmurs. “We all know the levels of deceit and manipulation Thorne is capable of employing. Everything he says has to be suspect. My question is whether he has a specific reason for wanting Dr. Gallagher in this Eden location, or is there a reason he specifically wants her out of Bio-19?”

  “Maybe Thorne wants Dr. Gallagher and her daughter out of the way,” comments Tamara. “It can’t be a coincidence that her daughter discovered the water and now they’re being asked to leave. Thorne may have plans for Lost Lake and Dr. Gallagher or Miranda could be a hindrance.”

  “I’m not sure,” I say slowly, pacing inside the stone enclosure. “It was only a matter of time until someone came out to this area and discovered the water. A person performing soil research would be as likely as anyone else. My impression is that Thorne and Dr. Gallagher are aligned in some way.” I pause to face them, nibbling my lip as I try to sort my thoughts. “I think we need to focus our attention on this new biosphere, Eden. J.D., would you mind going back to the dome tomorrow and seeing what you can find out about this place?”

  “No problem.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Tuck pipes up, his voice sharp. “It’s not safe to linger here, Kira, especially when we know Thorne’s in Bio-19. His goons will be searchin’ high and low for any clue to your whereabouts. Right now, I bet they’re showin’ your photo to every resident in the dome. One glimpse at your face or J.D.’s, and we’ll all get snatched.”

  “You raise a good point,” I admit grudgingly. J.D. and I are too recognizable. But Tuck has never met Thorne. I stop in my tracks, reassessing the situation. Tuck is not likely to set off alarms if spotted inside the biosphere. He could be just another traveler. I turn to face him, narrowing my eyes. Tuck is albino, which should make him stand out but somehow allows him to disappear. It makes him a mutant, one of many in our brave, new world. I am another. I watch his eyes widen with apprehension of what I’m about to say. “Tuck, will you do it? Will you go back into the dome tomorrow and get onto the Nets? I don’t think we can plan our next steps until we have more information. J.D. and I will stay here with Tamara. Find every Eden reference from the past twelve months. That should help us. If you can find any conversation threads that mention a tree—it could be a random comment or specific to one type of tree that only exists in that habitat, I don’t know what could be important—pay attention to everything.”

  He could refuse. For a moment, I think he’s going to, but then he shrugs his acceptance. His expression makes it clear he’s not thrilled with the situation.

  “I suppose you know the obvious connection …,” Tamara adds.

  I wonder if my face looks as baffled as I feel. “Umm … actually, I don’t think I do.”

  “The name Eden is from one of the ancient creation myths, Kira. There’s a story about a garden where the original man and woman were created. The garden was full of trees, but only two were significant to the story: a tree of knowledge and a tree of life.”

  I search my memory to see if anything rings a bell. “It’s not something we were taught at the Garner Home for Girls,” I say, shaking my head. “If it wasn’t practical, it wasn’t taught. But I can tell you that whatever this Eden is now, it’s a real place. And I have a sense the tree is real also—something important to Thorne. We have to figure out why.” I glance at J.D. “Did you find anything interesting today?”

  “I was able to get updated cache data for the surrounding area. In terms of people with unique abilities, I got three hits from my query string.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “You may change your mind once you’ve heard them. There was an eyewitness account of a girl who had regenerative abilities, but I could find no geographical reference.”

  “She could heal herself?”

  “Or re-grow an injured limb perhaps. We know that ability is part of the genetic code for most life forms, and it’s still expressed in certain reptiles.”

  “I may know about a similar case,” Tamara says. She tips her head, remembering. “It was here, in Bio-19. There was this guy. I can picture him distinctly. He was an AgTech student. He never got sick. Some people have naturally stronger immune systems, I understand that, but this guy was in a class by himself. Everyone else might be suffering from the latest strain of influenza or a new parasite that blew in with a sandstorm; it didn’t matter. This guy was resilient. So the medical staff asked if they could run a few tests.”

  “What did they find?”

  “I should mention this guy was short, really short. When the doctors tested him, they discovered he carried a pygmy gene from a sub-population that existed years ago. The same gene that gave him disease resistance also apparently stunted his growth.”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve heard about the interconnectedness of gene expression. What if the same gene that makes it possible for me to attract water is connected to other characteristics I possess? If so, I wonder what those might be—a short temper, my red hair?

  “That’s good information, Tamara. We can use that. I bet there are doctors and geneticists paying attention to this also. So we pay attention to unusually short people. What else?”

  J.D. checks his tablet. “The second reference was for a mother and daughter who appeared to have extraordinary lung capacity.”

  I purse my lips, trying to figure out what evolutionary value this would have. “I’m not sure I understand the benefit. They could hold their breath for a long time?”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “It was unclear.”

  “I suppose it might eliminate the need for gas masks.”

  “Or they could race for a long distance without runnin’ out of breath,” Tuck comments.

  “I can see where that would come in handy if someone were being chased.” I turn to J.D. “You said there was one more?”

  “The last reference I located in an obscure agricultural report. It might not reflect a genetic mutation. It mentioned a youth in Aleph Territory who has a talent for growing things.”

  “Just ‘growing things?’”

  “The simplest explanation is that it’s someone knowledgeable about planting conditions, crop rotation, that type of thing—someone who achieves greater growing success than other farmers or the ag-engineers, if he’s in a biosphere.”

  “That’s not much to go on. But if the ‘growing things’ was an actual genetic ability, that could be huge. Many of the biospheres are still unable to maintain adequate crop production on their own.”

  “Aleph Territory is on the other side of the planet.”

  “There’s that.” I turn my attention to Tuck. Since joining us on our travels, he’s become invaluable to our survival. Sometimes I wonder if his talent for finding things is another mutation of sorts. He possesses an uncanny knack for getting us whatever we need to survive on our own. “You had no problems?”

  “Easy peasy. I got everythin’ on the list. Dunno if you’d be interested, but since it looks like we might be hangin’ around here a bit longer ….”

  “Yes?”

  “I bumped into a fella—shady type—says he has munitions supplies … explosive material, detonators.”

  “Tuck!”

  His jaw sets. “I’m just sayin’. You never know when somethin’ like that might come in handy. Might be good to be prepared, even out the playing field, dontcha know, in an unexpected circumstance.”

  “And that’s how it gets started. If you have a bomb, you might as well use it, right?” I hear the stridency in my voice and pause to count silently. This business of controlling my emotions isn’t easy. I recognize it’s a weakness. I’m working on it. I’ll always be working on it. “Besides,” I continue more calmly, “you probably can’t trust this guy. We all know weapons materials were supposed to be destroyed as a condition of the Unified Territories peace agreement. His munitions might be inert.”

  “They could be duds, true, but I’m guessin’ they’re active. I think the guy’s legit. We all know t
here be live bombs on the underground markets.”

  I exhale slowly, thinking about boys and bombs and what they lead to. It was supposed to be a thing of the past. That had been the promise. And Tuck had seen for himself the damage Thorne’s landmines created at the Great Lakes Basin. He should know better. I start to count again, then give up. “Let’s change the conversation.”

  “I’ve got news,” Tamara says.

  It takes me a minute. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  She crosses her arms and sticks out her chin. “You didn’t expect me to sit here in the cave all day, did you? Not when there was an opportunity to spy on territory officials and learn what they were telling residents about the water?”

  I press my lips together to hold back a smile. In Tamara’s place, I’d have done the same thing. I wouldn’t have been able to stand being left behind to do nothing while the rest of us went into the biosphere. And I wasn’t the boss of Tamara. I wasn’t the boss of any of them, even if I did bear responsibility for them being in this situation. “Okay. Tell us.”

  “I disguised myself before I walked out to the lake. I wanted to make sure no one would recognize me. But when I saw my best friend ….” Her voice drifts off guiltily. No one looks away. I think we’re each putting ourselves in her shoes. What would we do if we suddenly saw someone we loved and weren’t supposed to speak to them, to reach out to them, to let them know we were safe—alive even? “Her name is Olesa,” she resumes softly. “We’ve been friends forever. I couldn’t ignore her, my best friend standing only steps away from me after all this time. I’m sorry. No,” she corrects herself. “I’m not sorry. I revealed myself.”

  Her eyes connect with each of us in turn, pleading for understanding for potentially putting our safety at risk. “I made her promise she wouldn’t tell anyone she saw me—and she won’t. I know she won’t,” Tamara continues, passion and emotion making her voice break. I give her a nod to continue, and she takes a breath. “She told me what life has been like in Bio-19 since I left.”