Human (39 page)

The man looked up at her. He was dirty and thin, with dark circles under his eyes. He sat next to the second protestor with his back to the palm and multiple chains linking their waists to the tree. He replied slowly, but with grim determination.

“Seventy-three villagers were killed last week in the forest fires that are sweeping across Indonesia and Malaysia. Thousands more are endangered every day.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “I am lucky, I was safe here, but my brother and his family - they had no choice.” Tears shone in the man’s eyes. “The government blames the weather, says it is ‘unseasonably hot’ from the problem with the sky, but that’s not true. The heat only makes fires worse. The fires spark from the burn cycles of the plantations.” He pointed a shaking finger at the camera lens as an older woman placed a cup of water on the grass next to him. “The companies know and the government knows and none of them will do a single thing about it!”

The second activist put a hand on his comrades’ shoulder. He gestured for the microphone. “Our countries supply ninety percent of global palm oil. A decade ago, the government thought it was an opportunity for local economies desperate to exchange land for money, but it’s a
curse!
We have droughts because our old-growth forest is no longer there to bring rain. We are left with nothing but blood money and tears.”

The camera shifted back to the reporter. “This comes at a time when environmental concerns plague our leaders and magnetospheric decay hits all time high.

Another unsuccessful research probe has marred NASA's latest attempt to identify the cause of our rapidly declining magnetosphere. Billions of international research dollars have intensified the program in recent years. However, the destructive radiation itself has proven to be paradoxical for the satellite-derived data required.”

The reporter shifted slightly to ensure the men behind her could be seen. “The exponential decay we've experienced over the last one hundred years continues to point to a human origin, however no direct cause has been found. Sea levels continue to rise with polar caps melting up to 20% per year as they suffer the worst of the sun's increased radiation. Areas of highest altitude across the mountainous Asian belt have already experienced carcinogenic levels of exposure. International aid agencies are flocking to remote communities in the Himalaya and Karaoram ranges, to assist with solar education and relocation support.” She turned to look dramatically at the men chained behind her. “It seems however, that there may not be enough humanitarian aid to cover the costs.”

Orrin turned slowly and pushed away from the crowd.

It has to be a mistake.
But he knew it wasn’t. His own data confirmed the devastating decay of the magnetosphere. Radiation and melting ice caps were inevitable. Droughts and fires as well.
But why now, when it wasn’t before?
Human origin, she’d said.
But what did we do?

The red and white flag fluttered above him at the entrance. Two armed guards checked him by the door. The idea that Ivy might be working independently on the archaeological site was really pushing it. Still, he had hope, even if it was faintest of glimmers.

The softly spoken woman at the desk listened patiently to his plea.
My friend is missing. I’m sure she was in Indonesia most recently; if I could just confirm her VISA application… to be sure I’m looking for her in the right place…

“Are you the next of kin?”

“No - sort of. Yes– yes, I am. I’m the only one who seems to care, if that counts. I’m not sure about her immediate family, or where her parents even are.” As the questions came, Orrin realized how little he really knew of Ivy.

“The Australian police handle these matters, sir; if your friend is missing you should file a report with them,” the woman said.

Please.

Despite the spectacle outside, the office was near empty and the administration clerk finally gave in.

“Ivy Carter? I see no tourist visa on record for anyone with that name. If your friend travelled through an international airport, she would have arrived at Soekarno Hatta airport in Jakarta, or alternatively at Ngurah Rai airport in Bali. I see nothing here suggesting a person by her name was travelling to either.” She studied her database. “No tourist card, no visa or passport checks.”

“She was studying,” Orrin offered, “on an archaeological dig.”

“A research student? There’s a separate process for work and research travel. Your friend would have submitted a formal letter and quite a comprehensive research proposal to obtain access on a limited stay visa. One moment please, sir.” The keyboard clicked like a metronome. “I’m sorry, nothing again.” Her dark eyes showed genuine concern. “Perhaps your friend did not reach Indonesia at all? You should file a police report. They can perform a more thorough search.”

Orrin rubbed his fingertips under his glasses.
Another wall.

“The thing is ma’am, I
know
Ivy was there,” Orrin pleaded. “She must have been. She was working on the island of Flores, in a cave. Liang Bua cave.”

“Flores?” she said, frowning. “Well, that complicates things a little. Flores has heavy mining infrastructure, so most visitors arrive via sea.” Her words softened as she took in Orrin’s crumbling composure. “Hypothetically though, assuming your friend
did
have a visa…” she stressed her words to make it clear she was overstepping her role. “There are only two airstrips and two seaports she could have arrived at providing visa facilities, one on each end of the island, East Nusa Tengarra and West Nusa Tengarra.”

“How would I know if she arrived?”

The woman’s eyes were thoughtful as she ran her fingertips across the coral coloured scarf that kept her hair and neck hidden from view. She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “Well, I suppose I could make some calls. Hypothetically, of course.”

One by one, she rang the air strips and ports of Maumere and Labuan Bajo, and after a brief pause searching through records, each returned the same response.
There is no visitor in Flores by that name.

Softly hanging up the phone, she offered Orrin a sympathetic smile. “I am very sorry sir; I can’t help you anymore. If you put in an official report, they may be able to request a search of the island.” She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “But – well, I do feel obligated to tell you sir, Flores is one of the most remote and uninhabitable areas of the archipelago. Past mining has been extensive and its volcanic activity has been… severe. The island is considered very dangerous, especially to a person unequipped for such a place. If your friend really has gone missing there… if she is
lost
…”

Please, God, don’t say it.
With a sinking heart Orrin turned to leave. “I understand. Thank you, you’ve been – very helpful. I appreciate your time.”

Defeat tugged at his heart.
Ivy never went to Flores. So how did the amulet get there?

Orrin left. He skirted the edge of the lawn with his eyes to the ground, unable to shoulder the burden of grief in the chained men’s eyes again.

As he sank into his car seat, his mobile rang.

“Dale?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” came the reply.

“Any use?” Orrin asked, hopefully.

“Sorry man, they’ve never heard of her either.”

“Right.”

There was an awkward silence. “Um, Orrin…?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just – I’m worried about you.”

Orrin gritted his jaw.
Then believe me.
While Dale shot sideways glances at him all day in the lab, Phil was being downright condescending.

“Well don’t, I’m grand,” Orrin snapped. “Or at least, I’m about to be.” The amulet was a clue, proof that Ivy had existed and Orrin knew he was sane after all. Frustrated, angry, obsessed perhaps – but still sane. “I saw Ivy’s lab partner this morning, the one I told you about.”

“She remembers Ivy now?” Dale sounded relieved.

“Not quite.”
Silence.
“But she has Ivy’s amulet,” Orrin added. “The one she wore on the silver chain I found in the lab. It’s hers, unequivocally. It has the same engravings, her initials, everything.”

“So why does she have-” Dale began.

“That’s the part I’m trying to figure out. Jayne got it from the dig site in Flores. That’s why I needed you to check it out, just in case she was over there now. I thought maybe, if she was working on site and she dropped it…” His voice trailed off.

“I gave them her name just like you asked, Orrin. They’ve never heard of her before, the dig supervisor said she wasn’t working with them, never has.” Dale sounded reluctant to continue.

“Right.”
Right.
Orrin pushed away the defeat.

“Did you try the consulate?” asked Dale.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Orrin dropped his head, pushing the heel of his hand into his forehead. “There are other ways to get into Flores. Maybe she was working independently.”

“But she’d need - “

“She was there!” Orrin said. “
In Flores, at Liang Bua cave
. I’m sure of it!”

Dale sighed. “Okay. Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“I’ll see you later,” said Orrin. As an afterthought, he added, “Thanks Dale.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Neil carefully triangulated river stones around the edge of the hole. He laid a thick piece of bark across the opening, resting on the stones. The windows underneath suggested there was just enough room for an unsuspecting creature searching for a place to hide.
A rat could be tasty.
The inside walls of the hole sloped backwards, preventing his prey from escape. Leaving it, he checked another he’d dug yesterday. It was filled with the cold sleeping body of a python. Neil cursed and left it. His gut churned in memory.
No more snakes.
The other two traps were still empty so he returned to his newest to wait.

As luck would have it, he didn’t have to wait long. A hand-sized forest shrew with her caravan of young trailing mouth to tail scurried under the hollow.
Gotcha.
Neil lifted the bark ceiling, his sharpened stick poised. To his surprise, he was too late.

The mother shrew already lay immobilised and twitching. Neil snapped his hand away from the trap. Moving from victim to victim, a downy back spider caught each of her young in turn, filling them with venom. Before Neil could utter the expletive on his lips, they were dead.

His stomach rumbled but Neil sat back on his haunches in the dim light, considering. For once his thwarted meal did not upset him.

A non-descript spider lurking in the wet leaves; a neurotoxin of nature… a single bite is all it would take.
I don’t need her dead specifically, just incapacitated. Unconscious for long enough to get that stone and get away unseen…and unfollowed. It's not murder. It's not.
For a long time, he sat, all thoughts of hunger forgotten. Neil spun his lighter slowly.
If I don't do it, I'll die out here. Benjamin will die. The stone is wasted on her, instead of using it; she's sitting around drawing in the dirt. God, the things I could do with that stone. It's self-preservation, really. It's not murder. Besides, I won’t be sticking around to watch. Survival of the fittest.

Neil’s plan formed meticulously, played out in his head like film noir. He couldn’t deal with the redhead directly; her personal guard of well-armed monkeys saw to that. Resentfully, he had accepted his limitations. '
He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious,'
Neil reminded himself. He was outnumbered one hundred to one, out weaponed by far - he wouldn’t stand a chance. He needed to get her on her own. Get her while she was vulnerable, without the protection of those damned miscreants that watched her every move.
Just one bite. That's all it’ll take.

He tasted the potentiality of his success.
I’ll control the energy field, study it, and manipulate it. There’ll be enough energy to feed an entire city. Unlimited resources. The future of industry at my feet. Politicians, utilities. The energy crisis averted. Through me.

His memory brought forth his son. For once, he didn't push the thought away. Benjamin was half there, weak, closer to death. Neil’s resentment grew.
And time … time itself in my hands. There’s a bigger picture here. I can do it alone, hide the amulet - they don't need to know how. They would thank me for saving the masses from their miserable plight. What greater reward is there, than the gratitude of an entire civilisation?
A hard smile crept slowly to Neil’s lips.
Many rewards, no doubt. So I let one woman die, an accident really - this is a damned jungle after all. And what difference does one death make to a world of immeasurable benefits? Kill one to save many. Kill her to save myself…

Long and hard he schemed, as the spider wove her coffins.