Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [83]
On one hand, it feels good to leave the jungle I’ve grown to hate so passionately, but I don’t feel confident about the land looming ahead. It doesn’t much look as if it can support life, but the only alternative is to backtrack to the broken gate, presuming we can find it and set it off in another direction . . . with no guarantee anything better lies ahead. I wish Dace had given us a map or more indication of what the hell we’re supposed to see.
But that presumes she knew this would happen. Point in fact, we’re sure of nothing—and it’s frustrating as hell. For all I know, she only meant to show us a star-walker artifact because she thought we might know something about it.
“Any bright ideas on how to get us home?” I ask him hopefully.
“Working on it.”
I glance at Vel, who’s studying the terrain ahead. Yesterday, he shed his faux-skin and didn’t generate more, as the temperature has been climbing the farther we head . . . well, since I don’t know the directions on this world, I’ll just call it west. It looks to be hot as hell out on those plains, and geysers of smoke puff up periodically.
“Sulfur springs?” I guess.
“I believe so. The smell indicates volcanic craters.”
If we’re not careful, we’ll get cooked alive out there. I eye the steam and the rugged landscape with more than a little trepidation. At this point, I feel like I have to abdicate judgment, as I’m too sick to think straight. Not that I’m admitting it to Vel. There’s nothing he can do, and there’s no point in his worrying unless I keel over.
“What do you think? Push on or head back?”
“The jungle is no more hospitable,” he answers. “Only dangerous in a different way. Perhaps once we cross these flats, there will be . . . something.”
“You lead, then. Your eyes are better than mine.”
His olfactory sense will help, too. With any luck—though that’s been lacking since we put down on Marakeq—he can find us a way off this world. I won’t give up hope that we’ll find a gate; there should be another, but there’s no telling how far away it might be . . . or what kind of condition it’ll be in when we find it. I say when because I can’t contemplate any other option. I can’t leave March wondering what happened to me.
I can’t.
I know what he’ll think, and I can’t let it end like that. Sure, I reacted to his leaving me. Again. But I never meant for it to be forever. I didn’t intend to punish him like this—with an inexplicable disappearance. Really, I just wanted a little time to come to terms with the way his life would change when he found his sister’s kid . . . and my own fear about where it left me. I thought I’d get Carvati working on a cure for the La’heng, take care of my business with Baby-Z, then head to Nicuan to see March. A practical decision, but also to show that I don’t dance to his tune—that I still have my own life.
Sure, some life.
These bleak thoughts carry me onward. Three hours into our hike, we’ve breached the volcanic flats, leaving the jungle far behind us. The sky is a strange blue-violet overhead, but it’s definitely daytime. I surmise it must be a gas effect similar to what we see on Gehenna, just with a different chemical composition, but there’s enough oxygen that we can breathe.
“What if we can’t find a way back?” I ask eventually.
The question has been weighing on me, but I didn’t want to voice it because it seems like if I speak my fears out loud, then they gain ground. The unthinkable becomes possible. Before answering, Vel navigates around the edge of a crater within which water boils; I smell it now, and the reek is overpowering.
Once we reach a safe distance, he faces me, imperturbable as always. “Then we build a life here, Sirantha.”
“Wherever here is.”
I try to hide my horror, but the last thing I ever wanted was to settle dirtside, and now it looks as though I might be stuck here with no means to contact anyone in the life I left behind. It’s not that I don’t