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ENERVATION PREVIEW

​​     They couldn’t tell us much about Site 03 or the two expedition teams there now. Made no reservations about it, either. Clearance levels denied almost every question, including ones about safety. I was offered a shitload of money, vetted by government agencies, and signed an NDA that could have rolled onto the floor. After all that, I still didn’t care; I was leaving behind something worse.

     This is what I knew: the Site is a defunct ecological research station located in British Columbia, somewhere near the Whistler Blackcomb resort. It’s a forested valley about two miles in diameter, with a half-mile-long clearing including a vast meadow and a small infrastructure zone that butted up against a sheer cliff. There are three main buildings, a courtyard between them, and a few paved roads that don’t really go anywhere. The buildings consist of a main lab, a ten-story apartment riser, and, incredibly, a thirty-story skyscraper partially built into the granite outcrop behind it. Our employer had given each of these simpler terms: The Labs, The Lodge, and The Spire.

     The meadow makes up the clearing’s empty space, and as the expedition’s botanist, I would practically live there. Dark verdant forests, wildflowers, cool mountain air, unlimited research time. This was it, this was “the trip” that scientists dreamt of. The pay was astronomical compared to my cute little salary at the Conservatory, and I wouldn’t be the only woman going . . . is what I kept reminding myself.

     The company, EverRain, seemed to be some kind of buffer or front for the government, in my opinion. Like I gave a shit. I left everything in Philadelphia to have an interview—my apartment, my job, my mom. They were headquartered in San Francisco, in a giant glossy-white tower. All the tables and chairs and floors and ceilings were white and clear. The employees wore slim black suits and skirts. They smiled, I smiled. They called back the next day with good news, so I ended up staying in California. Things moved quickly after that; a few days of orientation, preparation, greeting my team. Then it was time to go.

     I did call my mom to tell her, but I left my landlord on “read.”

     Once we arrived in Vancouver, the drive to the Site took about two hours. And when I say “drive,” I mean we were currently being hauled up B.C.’s Route 99 in a fucking six-wheeler with a hull as thick as a submarine, or so it felt. They called it the MARV, or Multipurpose All-Range Vessel. You literally can’t get more expedition-y than that. The orange and black beast turned onto a closed frontage road and went underneath a concrete tunnel. We emerged onto a rutted road in a forest of firs. The tracks had become overgrown, the dirt lines barely visible. My stomach fluttered and my fingers itched.

     There were five other members of Team Gamma, a geologist, hydrologist, radiobiologist, microbiologist, and a security detail. Aside from a quick debriefing and a handshake, I’d hardly spoken to them. Wish I’d gotten a little more heads up because from the ride alone, I could tell the geologist was going to be a pain in the ass.

     “I’d wager the other geologists and I will spend 80-85% of our time in the mountains, maybe 90%,” he was saying to the entire cabin in a raised arrogant voice. He was a middle-aged man with a wisp of blonde hair on his head and a pair of thin sunglasses that seemed glued to his face. “But I’m hoping—with everything EverRain said about the minerals here—God, I’m hoping that the other teams have top-notch organization and categorization. If I have to clean up messes or, God forbid, create my own system, which would probably be ten times more detailed than what they’ve got going—if I have to do any of that, start fresh . . . I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be nice, I’ll tell you that much.”

     My head hurt. Couldn’t they have put windows in the back of this thing?

     I focused on the sounds of the MARV crunching its way up the incline—thick trunks being snapped in half and pulverized to splinters. We stayed steady for about an hour and a half, heading deeper into the forest until we stopped at the Halsee Gate, the old security entrance marked in our debrief. I leaned into the middle lane to see out the front window. Pieces of the broken gate arm lay scattered. The personnel booth had cloudy windows and a blanket of greens growing up its sides with what looked like White Mountain Heather—little white teacup petals.

     The microbiologist sitting opposite had been eyeing me for the last few minutes. I remembered her name: Renée.

     “You’re the botanist,” she finally said.

     “Yeah,” I said rather loudly, with an abnormal brightness. Well, shit, there goes that intro. I tried to clean it up. “Pathology, bryology, dendrology—mosses, trees, their diseases. But ecology saturates so much of the field these days, I feel like I’ve had to change careers.”

     “That’s good. That will come into play, I’m sure.” Renée had a sharp, serious face, with blonde hair fastened into a ponytail and gelled to tamp any strays. She probably wasn’t much older than me but appeared collected and prescient. “Tell me your name again?”

     “Priya Khatri. And you’re Renée, right? Microbiology?”

     She nodded. “We’ll be comparing notes a lot. Where you from?”

     “Philadelphia. You?”

     “Seattle.”

     The lights came on in the back section, and everyone started unbuckling their safety belts. “Not much of a trip, then.”

     Renée smiled, thank God. “No, not much of a trip.”

     I pulled my tall hiking backpack from the receptacle above my seat, shouldering it. The thing weighed about twenty-five pounds.

     Renée’s interest, hell, even just her presence, made me feel safe. Made me feel like the risks it took to be here were going to be worth it, that the geologist would be tolerable.

     We exited the MARV, and I took the first full breath of mountain air. The forest smelled of pine mixed with the MARV’s malodorous hot engine. There was an intense choir of birdsong above us, and I could see long distances through the trunks on either side, vaults of untouched, pristine forest. Most trees had fuzzy green lichen or moss growing up their bark. The ground was teeming with shrub and brush mixed with a lot of heather. Joy surrounded me; I stood still and closed my eyes, breathing in and out, absolved by the ferocity of nature.

     We met behind the MARV, waiting for Lewman, the security detail, to unload the plastic tub of supplies and lock up. He was a six-foot-plus balding man with some extra weight, wearing a tight black uniform and utility vest. He pulled on an orange beanie with the EverRain insignia, a rain cloud designed to represent an infinity symbol. I couldn’t help but stare at his drooping eyes, which reminded me of that unsettling toy baby head from Toy Story, the one spliced onto an erector set. He wore a belt with a handgun, and I was pleasantly reminded about the wolves and bears.

     Renée zipped up her parka and buckled her backpack across her chest. “What made you decide to become a botanist?”

     “Wanted to be a painter, actually,” I said, smirking. Maybe that had been too congenial. Leave it to me to ruin a relationship for being too engaged. “But obviously, that didn’t pan out.”

     “What did you paint?”

     I sighed. “Flowers.”

     Renée chuckled.

     “Actually, my—” I caught the word before it left my mouth, involuntarily. I ground my fists around my backpack straps. “I just decided it wasn’t realistic. I guess plants aren’t that much of a safer bet.”

     Renée blinked at me, looking me up and down for a split second. “Well, I’m glad you ended up where you are now.”

     “Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

     Renée looked behind me. I turned. Jaala Okoro was hefting her backpack onto her shoulders. The radiobiologist. Tall, braided black hair, immaculate white teeth. She wore a fitted, black down jacket and black pants. After securing her pack, she stared at the ground for a moment. I waited for her to do something as Renée spoke to me.

     “Why don’t we get a head start? I’m sure you’ve been dying to get to work, being enveloped by all this.” She gestured to the forest.

     “I did put my kit in the outside pocket,” I said.

     We trekked up the hill the rest of the way, the others not far behind. Lewman had told us not to stray too much. My legs pumped with seemingly unlimited energy as I scanned the sides of the path with a smile. I was curious to see what work the other two teams had done and hoped I could still add something unique to their research. EverRain wouldn’t have brought us up here for nothing. Perhaps the other teams had missed something or hadn’t studied a certain specimen for long enough. Maybe they were different kinds of scientists. I kept pace, legs springy, finding stability in each rocky step without effort.

     “So, Priya, tell me why you took the job?” Renée asked as we breathed heavily.

     “Why’d anyone?” I said. There I went again. “The money.”

     Renée chuckled. “It’s substantial.”

     “But really, the research. I’ve never done a full-on trip like this before. I’m still in awe that it’s happening. I definitely needed it.”

     “Well, EverRain only chooses the best. I’m glad to be in your company. Excited to see what you dig up.”

     “Do you know much about EverRain?”

     “Huh?”

     “You said ‘EverRain only chooses the best.’”

     “That’s their reputation, yes. They chose you for a good reason. I’m positive you’re going to do great work here.”

     “Er, thanks.” We walked a few more paces while I drummed up my courage. “Do you know what work that is, exactly? Is that—can I even ask that? Not that I really care. You could ask me to peel bark off trees for eight weeks and I’d do it. Is it like military-related?”

     “I think that’s what we’re tasked with answering. Come on, we’re almost there.”

     When we crested the incline, a giant clearing appeared shimmering against sun rays. My God. I was sure I’d never seen something so beautiful before. First, the meadow stretched for at least a quarter mile, full of wildflowers and tall grass, with prominent patches of blue—likely the prevalent Arctic Lupine. There was a single hemlock or fir in the distance, on the smallest of knolls. Beyond the meadow, the clenched fist of infrastructure rose. The Labs were on the east side of the courtyard, The Lodge was opposite, and The Spire faced us head-on from its mountain sconce, towering over everything for a mile. I felt silly in thinking it reminded me a little of Minas Tirith, and I wasn’t about to offer that out loud. The sheer mountain behind The Spire cupped the building’s back edge, made of white and gray granite. Either side of the mountain’s grip quickly dropped into a forested slope that joined with the Site’s surrounding north end, the right side being the alluvial fan I’d read about in the debrief. Golden sunlight bathed the top half of the skyscraper, detailing rusty siding, broken windows, and a gaping hole near the roof that spanned at least four stories. All three buildings had plant life growing up the sides, with The Labs sporting a new head of grass and a crown of flowers. The scale was inconceivable for an ecological station; the most those scientists ever seemed to get were tin huts on a mountainside.

     “Unbelievable,” I breathed.

     Renée looked at me. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

     “This must be the largest ecological facility in the world. The Spire alone could fit a thousand.”

     “It might have.”

     My face’s awe slowly melted into restraint. “What happened here?”

     “Wish I could say something more captivating, but life tends to be mundane, doesn’t it? I believe the original ecologists abandoned it due to a lack of funding. EverRain liked the work they were doing here and saw an opportunity for data collection. An opportunity to finish what they started.”

     I nodded and held tightly to my backpack straps. The destroyed portion of The Spire might have felt differently about a “lack of funding” and “mundane.” An explosion was the only plausible explanation. Perhaps that’s the reason they ran out of money. Or the reason no one would invest anymore. I wanted to ask about our safety, but the more I deliberated, the sillier the idea became. Whatever happened took place a long time ago; plants were taking over now.

     Behind us, boots crunched dirt as the others reached the apex.

     The geologist stepped forward, speaking matter-of-factly. “I just knew they’d be the same as Whistler’s mountains. Gorgeous. Look, you can see the fault line running right up that ridge.” He pointed, then put his hands on his hips, satisfied. No one else seemed to be all that interested, but to his credit, I could see the sharp delineation he was talking about.

     The hydrologist blew out some air in amazement. I gave him a quick glance. I think his name was Ben. He was probably only a few years older than me, a handsome dude with short brown hair, a trim beard, and a light blue parka.

     “Yeah, see, I’m still not seeing any rivers or lakes,” the geologist said, folding his arms as he looked at Ben.

     Ben smiled, switching hands; the crate of supplies was between him and Lewman. He clapped the geologist’s shoulder. “I’m just here for the vacation, Val.”

     “We’ll all have plenty of work up here to occupy ourselves,” Renée reminded the group. “Let’s keep moving.”

     The geologist followed her down the trail. “I’m just saying, I might need an assistant or something. There just seems to be a lot of work for me . . .” His voice droned on, echoing across the fields.

     Jaala was staring at the infrastructure, unmoved. She waited in the back with both arms at her sides, reminding me of a child at a bus stop. Jaala’s reason for being here should have unsettled me a bit: radiation. I usually had a bad habit of jumping to worst-case scenarios, but it was weird, right now I just didn’t care. In fact, it sort of intrigued me, and I wondered if I’d see any effect on the plant life here.

     “What do you think happened up there?” Ben asked, pointing to the skyscraper. “That gargantuan hole in The Spire. Look at that thing.”

     No one spoke. It was hard to tell what was inside the massive opening, but the sun allowed a shaving of clarity: a large empty hall with pillars receding into darkness. Lewman pulled Ben back into duty, and they resumed the trek along the trail.

     We followed the curve of the meadow’s edge. I couldn’t help myself a few times, running to kneel by a flower and jot down some notes in my journal. I’d seen some Western Pasque in the meadow, which I thought odd; the wispy blossoms that looked like white hair appeared mainly during the summer. But spring was just hitting its stride. I had to be called multiple times before stuffing my gear and jogging to catch up.

     As we approached the infrastructure, there was a small table standing just outside the courtyard’s roundabout, its legs against the curb. A three-ring binder lay upon the surface, the pages of paper and laminate fluttering in the small breeze. Specimen trays and holders, pencils, envelopes, and a tablet lay scattered on the ground below.

     The trio of buildings created a cocoon of solitude, and the dead air became focal. There were a few Jeeps and lifted trucks with gnarly, chained tires parked on the sides of the street, leftover and warped by weather and flora. Nothing moved in the courtyard except for the growths between concrete cracks, and the intermittent wind. I heard the occasional tapping of defunct siding. The birdsong of the forest had disappeared.

     Ben set down his side of the supply tote and went up to the table to flip through the binder. Val, the geologist, knelt on the ground and sifted through the items.

     “When was this place abandoned?” I asked.

     “Eighteen years ago,” Renée said.

     All three buildings displayed blown-out windows to dark interiors, intact grime-smeared glass, concrete walls with trails of dark brown rust crystalized down their sides, and loose debris. As I followed the skyscraper’s rise, I saw a connecting, covered walkway between The Spire and The Lodge. I continued upward, focusing on the giant hole again. Now in closer detail, I saw the shredded carnage of broken floors jutting out below the main hall. Blue tarps fluttered like flags, pipes and metal structures stuck out, and furniture filled severed hallways or hung by their legs. If The Labs was the ground-level building to our right, what could have caused such an explosion in The Spire? Were there gas appliances up there? Other labs?

     “Just a field journal,” Ben said, looking down at the binder. “Anthropology.”

     “An anthropologist,” confirmed Val, slightly surprised. “They really covered all the bases, didn’t they?”

     “Let’s find them,” Renée said, already over the curb.

     “In The Labs, I’m sure,” Val said, following her to the front steps of the eastern building. He was the only person not wearing a coat.

     Through a vestibule we found a foyer lit only by outside light. There was a set of stairs straight across that led to a basement level, and a lounge area opened to our left. Bluish industrial carpet muffled our steps as we walked into the lounge. The place had a distinct rotting leaf smell, like spring mulch after a cold rain. I looked up, expecting to see collapses in the roof; there were dark water stains, but no holes. Light came from wide, floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the room. Couches and their cushions left askew, coffee tables shattered, chairs pushed against the windows. Old soot and ash sprayed out from the fireplace like vomit.       Papers, bags, large plastic tarps, ceiling tiles, and dust cluttered the ground.

     “Hello?” Ben called.

     The only answer came from the polyester swishing of our bags, packs, and coats.

     “Well, they certainly didn’t bother cleaning up a bit, did they?” Val said. “I assume the actual workspaces aren’t this disgusting?”

     “No point in cleaning up what they wouldn’t use,” Ben said, wandering.

     “One of the other buildings then,” Val said, shrugging, turning around. “Y’know, I get the secrecy and the red tape, but you’d think we’d have some contact with the other teams.” He faced Lewman. “You don’t have a radio or something?”

     Lewman shook his head. “We report progress back at the MARV. Radio waves don’t work up here. Walkie-talkies can’t even get a signal.” His voice was low and calculated.

     Val gave his hands up. “Of course not.”

     I caught Renée looking at the ground. “Renée, what’s going on? Where is everyone?”

     She looked at us, then said, “Someone should have greeted us at Halsee. There were no other MARVs.”

     “We’ll check the other buildings,” Val said. “Come on.” He took Ben’s job and helped Lewman lug the tote back outside.

     Ben was standing still near the back of the room, head down.

     I approached Renée. “You think something’s wrong?”

     “Someone should have greeted us,” she repeated, then walked toward the exit.

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