Island of the Sun (13 page)

“Please,” Amaru said. “Stop.”

Eleanor turned toward him. He held a pistol. Pointed at her.

“Amaru!” Eleanor's mom said. “What are you doing—?”

“Stay back,” Amaru said. “Or I will shoot her.”

“What the—” Luke began.

“Believe me, I don't want to hurt any of you,” he said. “And I won't, if you do what I say.”

This was the second time someone had pointed a gun at Eleanor. The third if she counted the G.E.T. agent on the runway. But she felt curiously calm about it this time, and yet she knew how strange it was that she wasn't scared.

Amaru pulled out another device, a small silver disk, and pressed a button on it. A green LED light blinked on, and kept blinking. Amaru watched it for a moment before slipping the disc back inside his suit.

“What was that?” Luke asked.

“A locator,” Amaru said.

“For whom?” Eleanor's mom asked.

“The Global Energy Trust.”

Luke took a step toward him, and Amaru swung the barrel of the pistol toward him. “Stay back. And please keep your hands where I can see them.”

“You're with
them
?” Eleanor's mom asked.

“Course not,” Luke said. “He's just working
for
them. A mercenary for hire.”

“I am
not
a mercenary,” Amaru said.

That much was obvious to Eleanor. She wanted to know something else. “Why are you doing this?” she
asked. Amaru had apparently been spying on them the entire time, and now that they had found the Concentrator, he'd used the locator in his pocket to send the coordinates right to the G.E.T.

“Dr. Watkins, the head of the Global Energy Trust . . . he promised he'll take care of my family,” Amaru said. “I watched the ice take everything my parents had. I won't let that happen to my wife. My son.”

“It won't,” Eleanor said. “I can stop it. I can shut it down.” She turned her back on him and took another step toward the device.

“No, sweetie,” her mom said. “Don't—”

The gunshot was deafening in the stone chamber. Eleanor froze, her shoulders tensed, her ears ringing. She slowly pivoted back to face Amaru.

“That was a warning,” he said. “If you go near the Tree of Life, I will kill you. I don't want to. But I will.”

“T
REE OF
L
IFE?”
E
LEANOR SAID.

“That is what Dr. Watkins called it,” Amaru said. “He's been looking for this for a long time. But now you found it. Just like he said you would.”

“Do you know what this does?” Eleanor asked.

“It provides energy we will need to survive the Freeze,” he said.

“That's what Dr. Watkins told you,” said Eleanor's mom.

“Yes,” he said. “He also told me you destroyed another one, in the Arctic, and might be coming here to destroy this one.” He shook his head. “Why would you do that?”

Eleanor had thought they were escaping the G.E.T., but it seemed that Watkins had suspected where they were heading all along, and he had let them go. He had used Eleanor to find the Concentrator, and she had led Amaru right to it. But something else confused her. Skinner hadn't known about the Arctic Concentrator before he saw it, which meant that Watkins had been behind this from the start and had kept secrets even from the company's CEO. Eleanor had thought Skinner was in charge of the G.E.T., but it seemed he had only been its public face. Watkins was the real authority. And it seemed he knew everything.

“Amaru, this isn't what you think,” Eleanor said. “This . . . this Tree of Life isn't giving us energy. It's taking it.”

“Dr. Watkins told me you'd say that—”

“Dr. Watkins is wrong,” Eleanor said.

“And the kid is right,” Luke said.

“Look at it, Amaru.” Eleanor pointed at the Concentrator, stuck in the ground like a harpoon. “That thing should not be here. You can see it's all wrong. I know you can. It's
hurting
the earth.”

Amaru swallowed.

“The G.E.T. didn't put that here,” Eleanor said. “No person did.”

“What are you saying?” Amaru asked.

Eleanor's mother spoke slowly and calmly. “Think about it. Who built that tunnel we just came through? And that temple out there on the bottom of a lake? How long ago? How long has this Tree of Life been here?”

“That is . . .” Amaru readjusted his grip on the pistol.

“Look at that thing, bub,” Luke said. “That look especially human to you?”

Amaru squinted at the Concentrator for a few moments. “Are you . . . are you saying
aliens
?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said. “And Watkins knows it. He thinks he can control it. But he can't. That thing is what's causing the Earth to freeze. And it's going to keep doing it unless we shut it down.”

She could see the doubts racing through Amaru's mind, the confusion weakening his resolve, and she decided to risk another step toward the Concentrator. “I can stop it,” she said. “If you let me.”

Amaru raised the weapon. “I told you to stay away from it.”

Eleanor stopped moving.

“Please, Amaru,” her mom said. “If we can shut these things down, we can set the earth right again. Things can go back to the way they were. No more Freeze. No more refugees. The best thing you can
do—for your wife and son—is let us do what we came here to do.”

“I will not listen to terrorists telling me what is best for my family,” Amaru said.

“We're not terrorists,” Eleanor said. “We can help you. We can save your family.”

“Can you?” Amaru said. “And what if you're wrong? What if the Freeze doesn't stop? Can you promise me that my family will survive when the ice comes? Can you guarantee we will have food and warmth, as Dr. Watkins has? Can you?”

Eleanor wanted to say yes, but she could not bring herself to make him such a promise when she still had doubts of her own. The truth was that she didn't know what would happen after the Concentrators were shut down. The rogue planet would still be up there, pulling the earth away from the sun. Without the earth's energy streaming to it, what would it do? Would it move on? Eleanor thought so, but she didn't know. And she didn't think she could lie about it.

“That's what I thought,” Amaru said. “Dr. Watkins promised me that my family will be saved, if I help him.”

“I think you'll find his promises aren't worth much,” Luke said.

“He is an honorable man,” Amaru said. “He has
treated me with kindness and respect.”

“He is using you,” Eleanor's mom said. “That's all.”

But Eleanor could see now they wouldn't be able to convince him. Amaru was driven by fear for those he loved, and he was doing what he thought was best for them, choosing to believe the side that offered him survival, if not hope. Eleanor found it difficult to be angry at him for that. But it didn't seem that he would let her get anywhere near the Concentrator, and the G.E.T. now knew where it was. She had to do something before it was too late.

She sat down on the ground and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Amaru asked.

Eleanor ignored him. She focused on the Concentrator's hum, its reach into the earth, the way it strummed the ley lines of energy. She listened, and she tried to follow those lines, reaching back toward the Concentrator with her mind. She remembered the sensation of touching the Arctic Concentrator, the way it'd felt as if something moved and convulsed beneath its skin, the consciousness she'd found waiting inside it. She remembered the way she had connected with it and tried to do so now with this Concentrator, even without touching it.

“What is she doing?” she heard Amaru ask.

“I don't know,” Eleanor's mom said.

“Well, make her stand up.”

Eleanor's mom chuckled. “You give me far too much credit. I've never been able to
make
my daughter do anything.”

Eleanor could hear Amaru's footsteps come closer to her and then sensed him standing over her, but she kept her eyes closed.

“Whatever you are doing,” he said, “you will stop. Right now.”

Eleanor said nothing. She ignored him, even as he kept talking, warning her, threatening her. It felt as if her mind were getting closer to something, tracing the Concentrator's roots beneath her, following the lines of telluric energy pulsing toward it like blood through veins. She didn't need to touch the console. She could connect with it from here, because it seemed to be responding to her. The awareness inside was waking up.

The ground rumbled, and the Concentrator emitted a kind of metallic groan.

“What was that?” Amaru asked loudly, in audible panic. “Are you doing something to it? Is she doing something to the Tree?”

No one answered him.

“Listen to me,” Amaru said, his voice quivering. “Dr. Watkins said no one must be allowed to interfere.
It is a matter of life and death. If you attempt to do anything to the Tree, I am supposed to shoot you. Do you understand me?”

At that moment, the Concentrator's awareness was like some wild thing looking out from the bushes at her, suspicious, and Eleanor was coaxing it, trying to draw it nearer to her.

She felt something hard and cold against the side of her head.

“Amaru, no!” her mom screamed.

It was the gun. Eleanor could not ignore that, and as she gave the weapon her attention, the awareness in the Concentrator vanished into the shadows, retreating into itself.

“Stop what you are doing,” Amaru said. “Please.”

“You son of a—!” Luke shouted. “You'd kill a kid?”

Eleanor opened her eyes and looked up. Amaru was shaking. He was sweating. He looked terrified. This wasn't something he wanted. “I stopped,” she said.

He sighed. “Thank you,” he said, and pulled the gun barrel away from her head. “What were you doing? That was—”

Luke came out of nowhere. He slammed into Amaru with his shoulder, and they both tumbled to the ground, grappling and rolling, fighting for control
of the gun. Eleanor scrambled clear of them toward her mom, eyes wide and fearful.

“Luke!” she shouted. “Be careful, don't—”

Somebody was going to get hurt. Somebody was going to—

The explosion of a gunshot filled the cavern. The two men went still for a moment, and then Luke pulled away from Amaru, holding the weapon. Amaru lay partly on his side, curling up a little, looking at his abdomen. A small amount of blood came out of a hole in his dry suit.

“No,” Eleanor whispered, and rushed past Luke to Amaru's side.

“Please,” he said, “leave the Tree alone. Let Dr. Watkins—” He grimaced and convulsed in sudden pain, breathing hard through gritted teeth. “He . . . he told me what it can do.”

Eleanor's mom dropped to Amaru's side. “We need to get him out of this suit. Quickly.”

She and Luke unzipped the dry suit enough to open it away from the wound. Once they did, all Eleanor saw was blood. It was pouring out of him, soaking into his thermal suit inside the rubber shell.

“No!” her mom shouted, and put both hands over the wound, pressing hard, blood pooling between her fingers. She had the basic medical training of anyone
working in the Arctic, but Eleanor knew this wound was beyond her skill. Amaru was bleeding to death right in front of them, and he groaned beneath her hands.

“Promise me,” he whispered.

Tears blurred Eleanor's vision. “We will save the earth, Amaru,” she said. “I will promise you that.”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes clenched tight. “Please, I—” Then his eyes popped back open, almost as if in surprise. “Mi hijo . . . ,” he whispered. Then his body went limp, and he slowly rolled onto his back, eyes staring up into the shadows.

None of them spoke for several moments.

Luke's voice came out hoarse. “I didn't mean— He had a gun to her head.”

“He left you no choice,” Eleanor's mom said, looking at her blood-covered hands. “And you saved my daughter.”

Eleanor wiped her eyes. “It wasn't your fault, Luke,” she said, but that didn't mean it was Amaru's. She still found it hard to blame him for doing only what he thought he had to for his family. If anyone was to blame for his death, it was Watkins, and Eleanor's grief for Amaru very quickly turned into rage. She got to her feet and turned toward the Concentrator.

“Sweetie, be careful,” her mom said.

“I will,” Eleanor said.

She walked toward the alien device, stepping through the ring of statues, and circled the trunk until she located the console. Its porous metal looked a bit like the surface of the lake, with waves of bumps and divots. Her mom had followed her and stood to her left, while Luke stood to her right.

“I don't even want to think of the hands those controls were meant for,” he said, staring at the console. “Or tentacles, I guess. Or . . . whatever the heck they have.”

Eleanor's mom shuddered.

“You're a scientist, Mom,” Eleanor said. “Aren't you interested in this?”

“I probably would be if my daughter wasn't about to let this thing into her mind.”

“You sure about this, kid?” Luke asked.

“Got a better idea?” Eleanor asked him.

His mustache twitched. “Can't say I do. So how does this work?”

“Like this.” Eleanor closed her eyes again and laid her palm against the console. Even though she had done this once before and knew what to expect, she recoiled violently when she felt the larva-like consciousness squirm within the Concentrator's fibers and machinery. But she forced herself to leave her
hand in place as the alien awareness seized the nerves in her arm and made its way up to her mind. She let it in, but not far. Only enough that she was able to connect with it, and then take control.

It was almost like she was part of the Concentrator, or like the Concentrator was part of her. She was able to manipulate its roots, shifting them out of alignment with the telluric currents, thus cutting off its supply of energy. Then she found the wiggling consciousness, the intelligence that she could not say was artificial or natural, but that governed the Concentrator, and she killed it, like stepping on a worm.

The ever-present hum ceased, but the silence that followed seemed to take something vital out of Eleanor. She felt weakened and out of breath, but not from the altitude or from everything that had just happened. The drain on her ran deeper than that, deeper even than her bones. But she managed to open her eyes.

“It's done,” she said.

“I'll be damned,” Luke said. “It's like it just went quiet.”

“You can tell?” Eleanor asked.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said. “Can't say how, though.”

“I think we should save this discussion for later,” Eleanor's mom said, still eyeing the branches of the Concentrator overhead. “The G.E.T. are probably
mobilizing right now. Coming this way.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Then let's figure out how we can get out of here.”

“But . . . ,” Eleanor said. They couldn't go back the way they had come. “Your air tank is broken.”

“You could use . . . ,” her mom said, but didn't finish. They all went quiet as they looked at Amaru's lifeless body.

“I don't know if we can use
any
of the tanks,” Luke finally said. “I don't know how to work 'em. Hell, I don't even know how to tell if they have air left in 'em.” He looked at Eleanor's mom. “Do you?”

She shook her head. “I didn't pay close enough attention.”

“Seems awful risky trying to dive that tunnel again,” Luke said. “I barely made it the first time.”

Eleanor shone her flashlight around the chamber, sending the shadows of the statues chasing each other along the walls. “Maybe there's another way out,” she said. “But should we do something about Amaru? I hate to just . . . leave him here.”

“I feel the same,” her mom said. “But we can't carry him out, and we can't bury him.”

“I'm sorry, kid,” Luke said.