The Other Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

one wants to know. Eden is the same.”
    Luke’s face was impassive.
    “Don’t you think we would have found the Garden of Eden by now if it still existed, assuming it ever did?” said Luke.
    “They discovered a new species of giant rat not long ago in Indonesia. A giant rat!”
    She paused, as though this had sounded much more persuasive before she’d said it aloud.
    “If Eden were still around, why haven’t we seen it on satellite pictures?” said Luke.
    “For the same reason we don’t see Atlantis or ancient Troy.”
    “Government conspiracy?” sighed Luke.
    “Because they’re buried under about twenty other cities, all squashed to the thickness of a sandwich.”
    “Not much of a garden left, then.”
    “For a man of the faith, you’re very reluctant to believe.”
    “And you expect to find Eden without believing in God.”
    “You don’t have to believe in something to find it,” said Chris. “If it’s real, it’s just there. You follow the evidence.”
    “Looking for Eden. Chasing evidence. Religion doesn’t work that way. If it did, it’d be science.”
    “Would that be so bad? If that girl came in to yell at you, and you could show her proof, would that hurt?”
    Luke pressed his lips into a line. It was foolish to believe you could find Biblical artefacts. It was a quest undertaken by those who lacked faith, by those who sought only glory, adventure, profit, or power. True believers didn’t need proof, they weren’t torn apart by questions, seeking answers so tangible you could grip them until your fingers bled.
    Luke told himself this as he tried to ignore the crushing sensation in his chest. A tendril of something dark uncoiled from distant memory, and Luke trod on it firmly.
    “Why would you need a priest?” asked Luke.
    “To help with the riddles and stuff,” said Chris, probably realising she should have done more research first.
    “You mean ‘help’ as in, show you what happens when someone walks through the trap?”
    Chris ignored this.
    “There is a way to find Eden, and I know where to start.” She groped for incentives. “There might be beaches and lagoons involved, later.”
    Luke gazed around at the marvellous clutter of strange plants, with the uneasy feeling that some were staring back. Which reminded him—he dipped his hand in his pocket.
    “I think I have something of yours,” he said, holding out the pebble seed.
    A silver, heart-shaped leaf had begun to unfurl, rumpled and reluctant.
    “Oh!” Chris patted her jacket. “That cuckoo seed must’ve pushed it out of my pocket.”
    Luke did not ask.
    “It’s a rockfruit seed,” continued Chris. “It grows fruit that looks like—”
    “I get it.” Luke shook his head, wondering what strange world he’d tumbled into. “So, where do we start?”
    * * *
    Chris’s apartment was a romantic’s dream, in the same way a rat-infested shack was a renovator’s delight. She’d fallen in love with the place at first inspection, with the stippled blue-glass windows, the sloping rafters, and the view of old chimneys in a sea of red slate.
    However, she had quickly realised that, like many things which seemed romantic, like ice-skating on frozen lakes or trekking through Nepal, the reality was often much more uncomfortable. She’d learned that, although the place had loads of character, it also had loads of cockroaches, some of which had mutated into multi-winged commandos in the microcosm of the converted warehouse complex.
    The apartment was a single-room studio, with the bed curtained off in one corner. Plants, books, and specimen jars covered the shelves, and lush, hanging pots swung from timber beams. The contents of several dusty cardboard boxes were currently spilled across the floor, with papers and photographs loosely sorted into messy piles.
    Luke drew a sheaf of papers from a manila envelope and skimmed the contents. Chris lay on her stomach on the floorboards, sifting through typewritten