“We’ve gotten what we can from the corpse,” one of the scientists says. “Like most strangler figs, balete grow from the top down on host trees that are already thriving. Eventually they consume the latter, and, in many cases, kill them. But this one—” He pauses dramatically.

“Well, what?” Leo asks irritably.

“There are no host tree remains. It’s hollow. The balete tree grew around the corpse. The corpse is the host tree.”

“It grew on the body? But—”

“From the upright way it has taken root and from the unnaturally slow way the corpse was decomposing—it’s almost as if—”

“Almost as if the person was still alive when the balete consumed it,” Hemslock finishes for him.

“You can probably suggest that for the show. Improbable, of course. That means the balete would have grown around it at supernatural speeds unknown in any other plant species—”

“And how far does this sinkhole go down?”

“We made some initial measurements. Surprisingly it’s not that deep. Thirty or forty feet at most, and then solid ground. We’re relying on SZ-132 here to be our eyes.”

“Practically the most advanced in the market today,” IT Guy says proudly. “If there’s anything worth discovering here, it’ll find it.”

“You think you can get this ready to go?” Hemslock asks.

“We have everything in place, but we weren’t sure if we were doing this today, after what happened to Mr. Galant—”

“Mr. Galant would have wanted the show to go on. He’ll be happy to hear we’re making money for him while he’s asleep.”

I hang back and watch as the robot is lowered into the pit. At the same time, I hear a faint whirring sound as the helicopter drone is sent up, its figure retreating into the distance and disappearing among the trees.

“If this wasn’t such a cursed spot,” says one of the crew piloting the drone, his eyes on the screen before him, “this would be a real gorgeous place.”

He’s right. The airborne drone gives us a beautiful angle of the island from overhead—a stunning view of the trees spread out before it, the white sandy beaches that circle the shorelines, the crystal blue of the sea.

But Hemslock’s attention is focused solely on the robot tank. I move nearer so I can see the camera from its point of view as it descends, its night vision mode kicking into gear when it finally hits bottom.

“Excellent landing, Rick,” Hemslock says. “Spin it around for a bit. Give us some bearings.”

The drone’s camera swivels. I expect to see nothing but the walls of the sinkhole and the base of the balete tree. Instead I see another small tunnel looming on its left, large enough for a person to pass through. The roots of the balete tree do not end on the rock floor, but instead twist themselves westward, straight into that new passageway.

“Christ,” Leo Gries says.

“What are we missing here?” Hemslock asks.

“The tunnel isn’t a result of the sinkhole,” one of the scientists confirms. “It’s the other way around—the sinkhole happened because of the tunnel. Judging by how long these roots are and how far they appear to go, it must have been growing upward like this for some time. Which is, again, puzzling. Balete latch onto a host tree and then grow down to the ground.”