Paul Levinson - The Orchard

“Maybe we didn’t give her enough antidote,” Martin said.

Pavel looked at a second injector, loaded with sapling extract. “We have one more ready to go,” he said. “But wouldn’t we be seeing at least some slight improvement already if the sapling is the antidote?”

“Not necessarily,” Martin said. “We don’t know how this operates. Maybe below a certain level the antidote has no effect.”

“Or maybe I was wrong and the antidote’s just more goddamn poison and we’re killing her!” Jake cried out, and lunged for the injector.

He had it in his hand. He raised his arm, making a show of his intention of smashing the injector on the floor. “Goddam planet—”

But Martin tackled him to the floor first, squeezing Jake’s wrist in a hard grip that immobilized his hand and the injector.

Jake struggled, but Martin was the bigger, stronger man. He turned Jake’s face to him with his free hand. “Listen to me, listen to me,” he said. “She would have died anyway without the sapling extract. You and Pavel were right about that. And she’s going to die now if we do nothing more. We’ve got nothing to lose. We’ve got to try the second injection.”

Jake pulled his face away.

“It’s all we’ve got left,” Martin continued. “OK?”

Jake’s breath was shaky. “OK.”

Pavel gave Susannah the second injection.

Her voice made a low, guttural sound. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

But five minutes later, she opened them and smiled weakly.

“What happened?” she asked. “We have some evidence that the trees were deliberately planted, right?”

Jake gently stroked her hair, kissed her on the forehead. “Excellent evidence. Corroboration well beyond the taste test. The best evidence in the Universe. Especially now.”