He gestures us forward. I exchange a glance with J.D. As we turn a corner of the gorge, I see a spiraling stone pillar of extraordinary beauty. The rock is red where the sun hits it, with subtle striations of yellow and brown. Thomaz heads toward the pillar, then slips around behind it. Thorne, J.D., and I follow. We enter a section of the canyon surrounded on all sides by vermillion cliffs covered in undulating striations of color. It appears this gorge has been hollowed out over millions of years by an ancient water flow. The place where we stand now is wide and spacious, but there are stone monoliths which narrow as they rise, casting us in shadow before opening to reveal a patch of sky. I gaze upward, and then my eyes follow a beam of sunlight that spirals back down, casting its light over the being that occupies the very center of my vision.
Tears leap to my eyes. Old is the thought that pops into my mind at first glance. Old and tenacious. This creature—for it is a creature, severe and sublime—stretches its branches out to the edges of the enclosure and upward into the conical space above it.
Thomaz echoes my thought. “This tree knows our history,” he says softly, moving closer to press his palms reverently against the sturdy trunk. Thorne stands back, but his gaze on the tree is avid. And J.D.—he is awestruck.
I inhale the smell of wood and green leaves and musky flower buds that hang in clusters throughout the outstretched limbs. I move closer to stand beneath the branches. I turn to Thomaz with an unspoken question. He nods. Hesitantly, I open my fingers and place them against the trunk. After a moment, I lean forward, resting the side of my face against the rough bark of the tree. I can feel its energy. It thrums beneath my skin. Turning my head, I plant a soft kiss against the warm wood. “You are beautiful,” I breathe.
“One of our scientists conducted testing and believes the tree to be more than ten thousand years old,” Thomaz whispers.
“A survivor.”
“Without a doubt.”
“How was it able to withstand the Devastation?”
“We think the remote location helped, plus the fact that it’s sheltered by tall pillars of stone, which protect it from the wind while still allowing sunlight.”
“And water?”
“It’s unclear. Dr. Gallagher theorized there’s a water table which still exists below our feet, but I have no idea how deep the root systems go or how the tree has been able to manage the drought conditions for so many years.”
Did that explain why Thorne brought Dr. Gallagher to Eden? Was it only to study the tree?
“Do you think the tree gets lonely?” J.D. asks.
Thomaz nods in agreement. “Most trees live in organic colonies. Some orchards are complete living systems that can be traced back eighty thousand years or more. We don’t know why this tree is alone, but there appear to be none like it. We’ve searched every database of tree bio-history, and we’ve sent samples off to the foremost laboratories for testing. As near as we can tell, it is a distant relation of Durio zibethinus originalis, which ultimately migrated thousands of miles east of here.”
“Before becoming extinct.”
I gaze at J.D. in surprise. “You know about this?”
“I’ve read a little. If I remember correctly, the fruit was particularly foul-smelling, almost as though it was trying to deter people from eating it.” He turns to Thomaz. “Has this tree borne fruit?”
“Not in recent history. The tree flowers a couple of times a year, but no one can figure out how to pollinate it.”
“I thought Dr. Gallagher was working on that,” Thorne cuts in.
“She has suggested several methods of experimentation. Most are things we’ve tried in the past, but we’re not giving up. She brought with her new pollen supplies, which we’re waiting to test. Speaking of which ….” His brow furrowed, Thomaz moves closer to the clustered flower buds, holds them gently in his hands. He sniffs and then swears loudly. “They’re too early.” He reaches beneath his robe and extracts a device of his own. “Excuse me for a second.”
We all watch as Thomaz punches in a number. When he speaks, his voice is tense. “The tree is going to bloom any day.”
We wait expectantly, wonderingly.
“By my calculation, we’re twenty days ahead of schedule. It’s sheer chance that I’m here.”
“Are you talking to Claire Gallagher?” Thorne asks.
He nods.
“Let me,” Thorne demands.
Thomaz hands him the phone.
“Claire, it’s Lukas. I’m at the tree with Thomaz. How quickly can you get here?” He speaks with the doctor for several minutes, then signals off.
I look from one to the other, holding my breath. “I don’t understand,” I say finally, to break the silence.
“Dr. Gallagher is one of Eden’s scientists on staff. She can explain about the tree better than I can.” Thomaz is answering me, but his eyes rest appraisingly on Thorne. “In a nutshell, we have a short window in which to experiment with the flowers of the tree. If we miss this window, we have to wait for the next flowering, which could be months from now. Based on historical data, we were not expecting the tree to flower until next month. Now we’ll have to act quickly if we’re going to learn anything at all from this pollination period.”
I process the words but still cannot understand the urgency that Thomaz and Thorne are both radiating. “Okay. I’m usually not an idiot, but I feel like I’m missing important information. You’re talking about getting data from this pollination period, but isn’t the goal to actually pollinate the tree?”
“This tree has never been pollinated, to our knowledge.”
“Never?”
“It’s unclear. We’ve performed a complete genetic analysis. There is no historical or botanical record of this exact variety of tree, any offspring, or any fruit. No samples preserved in any of the labs around the globe. A complete record of it simply does not exist.”
“Wow.” I attempt to absorb the implications of this, a one-of-a-kind tree or, at the very least, a tree that has managed to stay off everyone’s radar for thousands of years. “Okay. What are we up against?”
Thomaz turns to me now, and a smile flickers in his eyes. “Do you want to take a seat? Make yourself comfortable?”
Of one accord, we drop our packs, then drop ourselves to the hard-packed earth. J.D. is the first one to speak. “You mentioned there are challenges involved with the pollination of this tree. Maybe you can begin by explaining to us what’s involved.”
After taking a minute to gather his thoughts, he begins to speak. “Throughout history, a small percentage of tree species evolved to be self-pollinating. In other words, they didn’t need a second tree nearby in order to pollinate and bear fruit. It was a survival mechanism. They just needed a bit of wind to blow their own supply of pollen dust around so some landed at the right place at exactly the right time. Another small subset of trees is not self-pollinating but are what botanists call abiotic. They can be pollinated without the intervention of living creatures. The date palm orchard you visited yesterday is an example of abiotic pollination. All the female trees were pollinated by one male tree. This used to happen naturally via desert breezes. Today, we simulate abiotic pollination by manually pollinating with squirt bottles.”
“Sounds efficient.”
“It is. But only a small percentage of plants can be pollinated in this way. The majority of trees have always required animal assistance in order to procreate. When flowers opened, their scent or color attracted birds, bats, bees, or other insects to spread the pollen so the plant could bear fruit. And it is through the fruit that a plant, any plant, is able to reproduce.”
“So how can we get this tree to pollinate?” I ask.
“That’s the tricky part. You may have learned in school that over ninety percent of animal species became extinct during the years leading up to the Devastation. That figure is not an exaggeration. It was the single largest mass extinction event in our planet’s history. As the animals disappear
ed, so did the plants they pollinated. With this tree, we’re in uncharted territory. We know that its close cousin, D. originalis, was exclusively pollinated by cave fruit bats. That animal no longer exists. Other related tree species could be pollinated by giant honeybees, but since the global spread of colony collapse disorder, that species is not available either. If there is a surviving bird or insect which can be used to pollinate the flowers, we haven’t discovered it. Believe me, it’s not for lack of trying. As I mentioned, each flowering season, we experiment with new methods. We’ve tested several types of fruit tree pollen, plus an assortment of pollinators we tried to induce to penetrate the flowers. Nothing has worked.”
“So, no fruit.”
“No fruit.” Bracing his hands against the ground, he stands and dusts himself off. “That’s enough of a plant biology lesson for now. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I suggest we eat and turn in early. Once Dr. Gallagher arrives, it’ll be all hands needed to work on pollination tasks.”
Moving quickly, tents are pitched outside the enclosure, and I create a small pool of water so everyone can hydrate. For supper, Thomaz prepares toasted amaranth with red chilies and cumin and serves it with salted kelp crackers. It’s a quiet meal, everyone lost in their private thoughts. Afterward, Thorne enters his tent to work. Thomaz takes J.D. to the corral so he can learn how to tend the camels.
And I am left alone, gladly. I cannot explain it, even to myself, but I crave time alone with the tree. I want to understand it, to understand its energy. Thomaz and J.D. talk about trees like they have individual personalities. On one hand, it seems strange. And yet, when I’d discovered a small, forbidden flower at the Garner Home for Girls, hadn’t it felt unique to me? I had cared about it, beyond the fact that it was beautiful; it felt personal and alive to me—so alive that I was willing to give up part of my water ration to save it. In a world where every living thing is close to its last breath, alive is a good thing.
The sun is setting as I reenter the enclosure. Before I even see the tree, I can tell something has changed. The air is ripe with a musky smell. And the tree, dark and green, is now populated by giant clusters of gorgeous white flowers. They hang in heavy swaths of white from the top of the tree to the lowest branch. They are luminous. I cannot tear my eyes away.
“Oh, geez, this cannot be good,” I mutter, exhaling a breath.
At that moment, a blast of dry air penetrates the stone enclosure, causing the leaves to shiver softly. The large white petals turn in the breeze, releasing a warm, buttery scent. Within the center of each flower, I detect a multitude of slender filaments dancing in the air. It is entrancing and incredibly sensual. I inch closer, reaching out a finger to touch one, then withdraw it. The flower is so delicate, and I am so clumsy.
I force myself to turn away from the tree and am startled to find Thomaz standing behind me, his eyes fixated on the flower which still trembles slightly. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It might be,” he says slowly. He turns and gives me a wink, then heads towards the tents. I return my gaze to the flowers, baffled.
17
I watch from a distance as Thomaz pulls Thorne out of his tent for an intense discussion. Then another call is made to Dr. Gallagher. When Thomaz finally turns in for the night, visibly exhausted, I approach Thorne.
“Are we staying here until Dr. Gallagher arrives?” I’m curious to meet the woman who worked with Tamara’s husband, but I don’t want to reveal my interest to Thorne or raise his suspicions. “I made you a promise, and I’m prepared to keep it. If you’re ready to replenish the source waters for the Tigris and Euphrates, we can leave.”
I don’t reveal the mixed emotions I’ve been dealing with since we arrived at the tree. I don’t think anyone could stand in its presence and not become invested in its survival. If restoring the rivers will help, then that can be my contribution. But I’m reluctant to leave the tree. And I want to meet Dr. Gallagher. I’ve been keeping it to myself, but I’m also worried about Tamara.
It’s surreal to me that only a few days ago, J.D. and I were trying to rescue Tamara at HQ. Now Tamara has been torn away from a comfortable existence and forced to fly to the other side of the planet. Tuck is so flexible and easygoing that he can adapt to anything. But since losing Shay last year, Tamara has become fragile. Her brittleness is there in her eyes—in the way she holds her body. It’s obvious to those of us who know her and love her. Now she is being forced to adjust to yet another set of new living conditions.
Thorne’s voice pulls me from my reflections.
“I appreciate your willingness to keep your promise, Kira, but we’ll stay with the tree a few more days. Engineers are investigating the integrity of this gorge to ensure it will be safe once the rivers rise. Also, it may be useful to have you here while Dr. Gallagher is testing new pollinators.”
Feeling relief, I try to keep it to myself. Bobbing my head in compliance, I enter the tent. J.D. is there ahead of me, lying on his bedroll with both hands behind his head.
“You heard?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
I sink down onto my bedroll and watch him somberly. He turns, propping his head on one hand.
“What are you thinking?” He keeps his voice soft, making sure our conversation doesn’t pass through the tent walls.
“I think it’s smart of Thorne to confirm that filling the rivers won’t endanger the tree. Clearly, the tree has adapted to the conditions of this location. Any major change might jeopardize it.”
“You can see to its water needs.”
“Yes. But it doesn’t seem to be dehydrated.”
“I noticed that also. Doesn’t it seem odd?”
“Maybe it adapted to drought conditions so long ago that it can sustain itself on limited water.”
“Perhaps. So … the tree is fine, but what about you? You and Thorne appear to be keeping a precarious peace.”
“For now. I don’t see anything wrong with his plan to refill the Tigris and Euphrates, especially if it will restore an ecological balance to this area. I’m nervous about meeting Dr. Gallagher. We need to discover what she knows about Eric’s research, about the soil conditions around Bio-19.”
“I think we can put that on hold for a bit,” J.D. says. “It sounds like we’ll have time to get to know Dr. Gallagher, to determine if she can be trusted. I think the most urgent thing now is working together to pollinate the tree. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“And … perhaps you’re worried about Tamara?”
I shoot him a surprised glance.
“I am too,” he acknowledges. “Being at HQ clearly suited her. It was safe, protected. Now she’s traveling again, having to manage primitive accommodations. I thought she was starting to come out of her sadness. This may knock her back.”
“I was thinking the same thing. You know, when we were walking, there were times I’d look at Tamara, and she was so gaunt. I thought it was because she was grieving the loss of Shay.”
“I’m sure that was part of it.”
“But not all of it. The moving … the uncertainty … living hand-to-mouth—it wears her down more than the rest of us.”
“You may be right. But for now, she is safe. And Tuck is with her, and he’ll look after her.” He reaches out and pulls me closer. “You and I can spend a few days with the tree and meet Dr. Gallagher. Then we’ll return to Eden and see how our friends are doing. For now, for these few days, let’s just be.”
I can’t hold back a small smile. Just be. I try to wrap my head around the idea. Just be. I try it now, just being in this moment, in this place. Consciously, I let go of the worry that is my everpresent companion. Perhaps it works because the next thing I know, the sun is peeking through the tent flap. I tiptoe out of the tent and go directly to the tree. I’m shocked to discover the flowers have closed.
“Thomaz, Thomaz … come quickly!”
Within minutes, he arrives at the enclosure, his eyes wid
e with alarm. “What?”
“Look … the flowers have closed.”
He releases a breath and closes his eyes. After a moment, they reopen, and he gives my shoulder a pat. “There is no need to worry. The tree is a nocturnal bloomer.”
“So the flowers will open again tonight?”
“Indeed. Think about it. The pollinator of its closest relation was a bat. Bats are creatures of the night. It also explains the brilliant white flowers—they are more attractive to nighttime pollinators. The tree’s flowers will be closed for most of the day, but they’ll reopen later. Trust me.”
After everyone’s up and fed, it doesn’t take long for me to start feeling restless. Thomaz agrees that J.D. and I may give the tree a bath. I remove an old shirt from my backpack and cut the cloth into squares. Filling a pail with water, J.D. and I dampen the cloths and begin to gently wipe each waxy green leaf, working our way up from the bottom of the tree. As layers of dry dust are removed from each leaf surface, I imagine the tree taking a deep, cleansing breath and opening itself up more fully to the sunlight. I hope this is good for the tree. It makes me feel useful to have something to do.
As we work, I can hear Thorne and Thomaz below us, discussing the tree.
Thorne is alternately pacing and twirling his mustache, working off nervous energy while he sends and receives messages with his mobile device. “What do you think the underground groups know about the tree?” he asks Thomaz in between transmissions.
“It’s hard to say.” Thomaz looks thoughtful. “Herders have returned from travels repeating rumors of a tree with special powers. Most people believe this is empty talk from people who are desperate to restore hope among communities who have lost it. There would certainly be stories, passed down through generations, of one originator tree, just like there have been stories of one originator man or woman. The narrative is woven into the fabric of many cultures, and ours is no different. Today, these stories are dismissed as relics of another time. The focus for everyone now is on survival, on keeping extended families together, or avoiding the attention of the Unified Territories Council.”
The Last Tree Page 11