The SATMAP showed the ravine was not that far from the old army base at Cibao, where the rich people lived. The layers showing altitude indicated steep slopes and huge brown cutaways from many landslides, turning Cibao into a virtual fortress. The mountain looked as if it had been chewed and clawed at by a gigantic beast. The camp appeared deserted, but that meant nothing. Bana looked the same as the day they left – she would not know what had happened until weeks had passed.

She came upon message boards about the mountains – people claiming to have made it there, saying there was abundant food and cool temperatures. There were also stories of massacres by Tribals, attacks by ferals, and armies controlled by Toplanders. And a word, perhaps a name: Drax.

During that night, Sorrel reflected how even she had let herself believe, a little at least, in the information held by the servers in places far away. The only thing she could be sure of was what she was now experiencing. Her mother was gone, her father in prison, her home destroyed, her future owned by a group of strangers. She closed the PlAK. There was nothing to do but wait for Caroni’s decision, hoping it would come at dawn. The Zorah had told her that the cave would be cool throughout the day. That probably meant that she had at least a day to wait.

COMMUNITY
2085

CHAPTER 20 – BREADFRUIT TREE

Emrallie and Sorrel ran along the wide bank of the river, now reduced to a thin, sluggish stream. Dawn was coming. The sandy bottom of the ravine was visible, full of large smooth rocks, carved by the river that had once risen up the sheer walls of the ravine. They had been sent by Caroni to pick the last breadfruits, regardless of their ripeness, before the sun was fully up. Everyone knew they had to leave the ravine, but no one knew when or where they would go. Every day the big trees shed more and more of their leaves and the ground crackled underfoot as the leaves turned to dust. Sunlight had started to reach the valley floor, first as dappling, then in expanding, irregular shapes. Slowly the Tribals stopped most activities during the day, except tree climbing, which needed daylight.

“Just round this bend,” Emrallie said from in front. The Tribals had celebrated Emrallie’s earthstrong day last week – she was sixteen, a year older than Sorrel, and now considered an adult woman. No one had asked when Sorrel’s birthday was, and her fifteenth had passed a month before without notice. But she knew Bibi wouldn’t have forgotten and, on that night, she had lit a candle for her mother. Rashelope had bawled at her for doing it – candles were running out. Everything was running out.

They had stayed at Jiba too long, Emrallie told her. “We’re all too soft now. We’ve forgotten how to travel. How to do without.”