*
The resort had designated a guide to take them through the forest to the estuary. They were supposed to spend time looking at rare birds, and then have a PechaKucha—whatever the hell that was—about how young people could shape the future of Newfoundland and Labrador’s environmental conservation efforts. But really, the meeting was about the reactor. Joel was supposed to be the face of the company that appealed to younger people. That meant he had to allay their concerns, even though he was technically a lot younger than all of the people he was trying to persuade and, historically, Hwa suspected that fifteen-year-olds had a hell of a time convincing people in their early twenties of anything at all. After that, they’d have a press conference about how the meeting had gone.
A swarm of flies followed them into the forest. Hwa relaxed a little when she noticed them. Anyone who tried making trouble for her or Joel would be caught on camera. As long as she stuck close to Joel, they’d be fine. And that was good, because being in the woods creeped her out. She couldn’t see anything. Sure, there were maps in her specs and bright orange t-shirts and it would take a solar flare for her to be physically capable of being truly lost to GPS. But everything was alive out here. And not in a good way. Not in a “doors opening for you because they know you’re there” kind of way. In a “things eating you” kind of way. Every step she took, she felt bugs under her clothes.
Eventually, the guide led them to a fork in the path that led to a split-rail boardwalk. It stretched out over green marshland dotted with lilies and dragonflies, and ended in a tiny piece of marsh that sprouted like an island among the washes of bright, shallow water. In the centre were two concentric circles of logs. This was where they would have their meeting. Even Hwa had to admit it was sort of pretty, mostly because it was out in the middle of the water under an open sky, and not in the long shadows cast by trees that creaked and groaned and whispered every time a wind came up.
And this was why, when a soft chime sounded in her ear, Hwa asked to be excused. It was doubtful that anyone would try to get to Joel while he was surrounded by a bunch of white scholarship kids talking about which variety of coconut oil was the most ethical. She would be basically defenceless. Vulnerable. The perfect target. If someone on Silas’s team was trying to get rid of her, this would be the perfect opportunity.
Hwa followed the trail a little further up until she heard water. She’d decided that this creek would be the best place, when she first mapped the trail in preparation for the trip. It was ideal. Someone could drown her there. Just sneak right up behind her and shove her face under the water. They’d be fools to pass up an opportunity like that. She stepped off the path and climbed down a little ways to the water. She paused to raise her arms and stretch. She bent and touched her toes. Twisted her spine, first to the right and then to the left. She rolled her neck. Cleared her wrists of any tension. Then she settled on her haunches, to wait.
“Prefect,” she whispered, “show me Joel.”
A feed unfolded across her vision. The whole group was still sitting there on the circle of logs, but now they were doing some sort of dance. No, it was a game. It looked like charades. Probably some sort of alternative communications thing. Hwa counted all four of Security’s guys at the fringes of the gathering. None of them was watching Joel. All of them were watching two girls mirroring each other with their hands. As the exercise continued, Beaudry elbowed Christiansen and got him to pay closer attention to the girls.
Hwa refocused. Beaudry nodded at Theodore, and then he headed back to the trail. He drifted out of the fly’s vision, and Hwa switched back to her own vision. She tabbed over to infrared. The battery icon warned her about not using it for too long. She winked it away. In infrared, the trees turned from green to grey. They looked like tall, silent ghosts judging her for a long-forgotten crime. She did a quick check of her blind spots. Nothing. She turned her earbud up. Calmed her breathing. Waited.
Nothing.
Birds. A twig. The rush of water. Something crawled under her shirt. She tried not to think about it.
Something rustled in the brush across the creek. In her specs, it registered as a big white blur hunkered down on all fours. It trundled along through a break of ferns and stopped at the water. Only when it stretched out its head to drink did she understand what she was looking at.
A bear.