“Not the building itself,” he says. “Look just above it.”
Now I see it: against the barely lit sky, a thin column of smoke rises up from somewhere beyond that building.
“A campfire,” he says. “Someone is out there.”
People. People who are not us. We’re not alone after all.
Bishop looks at me. Once again we’re close enough to kiss, but this isn’t the time for that.
“I’ll go look,” he says. “See what’s there.”
“No, it’s too dangerous. What if it’s another spider?”
He considers this carefully, then shakes his head. “The spider didn’t try to open the door. It easily outweighs all of us combined. All it had to do was push, but it didn’t even try. If it’s not smart enough to open a door, it’s not smart enough to build a fire.”
He’s right. It’s an animal—an animal that attacked us.
“The spider is inside the city walls, where the rest of our people are,” I say. “We need to get back to the shuttle as fast as possible. And besides, it’s almost dark. There could be more spiders in the jungle.”
Bishop considers this, bites at his lower lip. He used to just act. Now, he thinks first. It’s definitely an improvement.
“The fire means someone lives out there,” he says. “Doesn’t that mean they must have food that isn’t poisoned by the mold?”
From behind me, Spingate lets out a cough of surprise.
“He’s right,” she says. “I mean, they could be immune to the toxin somehow, but however they beat it, we need to know.”
Bishop has a good point. And looking for food was the whole purpose of this trip.
“All right,” I say. “We’ll check it out.”
He smiles, starts to rise.
“I said we, Bishop. You’re not going alone.”
He wasn’t expecting that. “Then I’ll take Farrar.”
I touch the back of his hand. “No, all of us, together. We shouldn’t have split up before.”
He pauses, then pulls his hand away, his eyes cast down.
Together, he and I made the choice to abandon Bello, and did we learn from our mistake? No. At the waterfall, we let Spingate, Farrar and Coyotl go off by themselves so we could be alone together. The spider could have hurt them, and that’s our fault.
Bishop turns his head, speaks just loud enough for everyone to hear him.
“Farrar, stay on my right. Coyotl, on my left. Em and Spingate, stay close behind, but far enough back so you can run if something attacks.”
We are new to this planet, to this city, but it seems we have neighbors. In a moment, we will find out if they are friend…or foe.
Bishop silently leads us into the jungle ruins.
We find the fire. Whoever made it is gone.
Glowing coals cast tendrils of smoke into the darkening night. Someone built a fire pit in the middle of this six-sided ruin. With no roof and one wall collapsed, the fire-builders had protection from five sides. Maybe they cooked bread—I faintly smell burned toast.
The sun finally slides behind the city wall. The sky burns a molten-sunset red. Jungle shadows thicken. Strange, new noises rise—animal screeches, echoing hoots, beastly bellows, all completely alien to anything hiding in Matilda’s memories.
Bishop, Farrar and Coyotl move silently through the ruin, weapons at the ready. Bishop kneels by the fire pit. He pokes at the mostly black coals, careful not to touch those that still shimmer with soft waves of orange. From the pit’s edge, he pulls out a fist-sized chunk of half-burned wood. He tosses it to Coyotl, throws another to Farrar, then pulls out a third for himself.
The boys set down their weapons. They rub the charcoal on arms, legs, faces. Farrar uses his shovel to cut free several long vines, which the boys wrap around themselves, coiling them over shoulders, across chests, around waists, tying them off here and there. Finally, the circle-stars scoop up mud and grind it into their hair.
Just like that, they are transformed. For a few hours, they were boys again—clean and beautiful. Now they are the jungle.
Coyotl moves to the inside walls, checking them carefully, his thighbone held in front of him. Farrar takes the outside.
Bishop remains at the fire pit, fingers drumming an absent pattern on the head of his axe.
I kneel next to him. “Could they have heard us coming?”
“No, we were very quiet. Even you and Spingate.”
He sounds surprised by that. I take it as a compliment.
I am both afraid and excited. We couldn’t have missed the fire-makers by much. They could be close. They might come back.
Spingate joins us. She pokes at the ground next to the pit, pinches her fingers around something small and black—it’s a bone.
“There’s a little bit of flesh on here,” she says. “This animal was cooked.”
She waves her bracelet over the tiny bone. I wait for the jewels to give off the orange warning color, but they do not. Instead, they flash with a mixture of blues, greens, purples.
Spingate smiles.