Hugh Howey - Half Way Home

When the ridges petered out and I had to cross over a lower spot, I did so carefully, testing my weight on one foot before shifting the other forward. After a few of these crossings without incident, I stopped being so conservative. And that’s when my leg crashed through the canopy.

It happened so fast, I never felt any sense of danger. There was a loud crack of snapping wood, and then I was on my butt, my entire leg hanging through a hole in the canopy. Kelvin slid forward on his belly and pulled me back. Exploring around the thin section, we discovered another of the large tunnels beneath. We made our way around it and up to another ridge before stopping for a ration of water and some bombfruit.

While everyone else ate, Kelvin gathered every scrap of rope we had and began splicing them together. I watched him with mild curiosity as he looped both ends of the line and tied a series of complex knots.

He came over as I took my two sips of water and showed me his creation.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Your new leash.” He held the rope up and snapped it tight a few times to demonstrate the general idea. “We both get to wear one end.”

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. “That was a fluke back there. Besides, that thing will just pull you off after me.”

He looked me up and down, and then laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“He’ll wear it,” Tarsi said, taking the water pouch from me and taking a sip.

“Fine,” I said, knowing better than to argue with both of them. I lifted my arms and let Kelvin lower the loop down around my waist. He cinched it tight, somewhere between nervous-tight and paranoid-tight, then played out the line and worked the other loop around himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said to me, glancing up after he checked his knots.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling ridiculous.

After everyone refreshed themselves, we set off again. As the hours passed, the heat of the overhead sun bore down unlike anything we’d ever experienced. I took my shirt off and draped it over my head, having seen what exposure to those rays had done to the boys who had spent just a few hours at the top, and most of that with clouds overhead.

Around noon, the vinnies started making more frequent appearances. They popped up from the foliage and gathered by the warm puddles or chewed contentedly at the thicker chips of leaves. All the vinnies we saw were of the smaller variety—none like the ones that had stampeded us and caused Britny’s death.

Also making an appearance after noon was a dark band of clouds—great billowy gray things that smothered the distant peaks and rolled across the surface of the range. Verbally, we decided the clouds were a good sign. Karl had sampled a few of the shallow puddles and agreed with me that they didn’t taste right. However, despite the relief of fresh water and the cooling cover the clouds promised, I felt terrified at the sight of so much stuff coming right for us. Especially as bolts of light began flashing through the dark mass. A storm was brewing that managed to out-grumble my stomach.

“We’ll need to find shelter before that gets here,” Tarsi called up to me. I watched the vinnies scurry about with greater urgency and wondered if we shouldn’t start looking right then.

We hurried along, the danger ahead and above taking my mind off the one below. I stopped picking my way as closely and no longer tested my footing in the depressions. After half an hour of forgetful and impatient marching, I fell through the canopy. Completely.

It happened without a sound, just the swish of a giant leaf as it flopped down into one of the vertical caves. By the time Tarsi shrieked out, I had already crashed into the bottom eight or so feet down, the rope coming tight against my armpits just as my knees landed on a slope of brambles. It was over before I could even feel a sense of danger. If anything, I just felt embarrassed for getting careless. I picked myself up, feeling for bruises, as Kelvin and Tarsi appeared above.

“Are you okay?” Tarsi asked.

I looked up. “I’m fine. Just feeling stupid.”

More heads appeared around the hole as the rest of the group caught up.

“Maybe we should explore this one,” Mindy said.

I grabbed the ladder of brambles ahead of me and began crawling out.

“I say we go until it gets dark or rains.”

“Maybe this was a sign, though.”

“Now you sound like Oliver.”

I felt like saying something in his defense, then froze at the sound of a distant and faint rumbling.

“Quiet up there,” I hissed.

A few people kept whispering, arguing about what to do with the rain coming.

“Keep it down,” I begged. I lowered myself a few feet and pressed my ear to the brambles.

Kelvin bent his waist over the edge. He grasped the limbs above me and lowered his head down near mine. “What is it?” he whispered.

I held up my hand. It wasn’t thunder, so my first thought was the beginnings of another earthquake, but it sounded too high-pitched and consistent to be that. The group above began laughing at something—drowning out the sound—and by the time Kelvin shut them up, the noise was gone or too faint to hear. We waited a second to see if it would come back, but the roll of distant thunder had me wondering if it had ever been there at all.

“Did you hear any of that?” I asked Kelvin.

He nodded, then pulled his head out of the hole.

“What was it?” Tarsi asked.

“Probably his stomach,” Kelvin said. He reached his hand down for me. “C’mon,” he said, helping me up.

After another few hours of hiking, the edge of the canopy finally came into view. The sun had begun moving behind the darkening clouds, which rumbled louder and more frequently as they approached. Only the base of the nearest mountain remained visible between the canopy and the storm, which forced me to concentrate on a single, jagged pattern of rocks to aim for lest we begin walking in circles.

“End of the road up there,” I said, stopping to allow the others to catch up. I watched as Karl and Mindy began gathering some of the chips the vinnies preferred while several others noted the location of a hole or two.

“Are you sure that’s the edge?” Jorge asked, squinting ahead.

“Yeah, I can see it,” Tarsi said, pointing out past me.

“Why are we stopping here, then?”

“Because I don’t want to keep walking while it thins out,” I said. “Besides, think of the size of the clearings between the trees. We might be past the trunk of this one already.”

There were grunts of accord, then Leila voiced a fear I think many of us shared: “What if there isn’t a way down this tree?” she asked.

“Then we build a shelter up here,” Kelvin said. “There’s plenty of building material. There’s food—and water coming. We’ll keep exploring until we find something.”

“Speaking of shelter, I just felt a spot of rain.”

As if to punctuate the sentence, a large drop smacked a nearby leaf with an audible crack.

“We need to set up the tarps,” Tarsi said. “I’m dying of thirst.”

The clouds swallowed the last of the sun, and a premature darkness fell across the landscape. Fumbling with Kelvin’s knots, I managed to loosen the safety rope; I dropped it around my feet. I untied my shirt from around my waist and shrugged it back on, the chill setting in quickly.

“Let’s camp here for the night,” Mindy suggested.

“Agreed,” said Karl.

The rain pattered down around us, and I cursed our stupidity for waiting so late to get settled. The rush of reaching the edge had interfered with good sense. Around us, dozens of the smaller vinnies began scampering to and fro, our constant companions seeming to react to the moisture. Only, instead of looking for shelter, their number appeared to be swelling.