“I understand, grandmother,” the translator says, undeterred by her warnings, “that this is the first time you’ve chosen to speak of this. Many have come asking questions over the years, but you refused to talk with them. Why speak to us now?”

The woman gazes steadily at the interviewer until the latter repeats the question. “I want to pray for you,” she says gently. “You do not understand, hijo. We want him to wake. But he is hungry. He will need food. There is food on the island now.”

The video ends and Gries sits back, dazed.

“If the Diwata didn’t cause the plane to crash, then why all the wreckage on the island?” Chase asks his father, though his eyes are on me.

“Because he believes I’m a sinner,” Gries says. “This—this is my punishment.” He stands and pulls on a thicker jacket, picks up a safety helmet.

“Where are you going?” Chase asks, alarmed.

“Hemslock isn’t telling us everything, but that doesn’t matter. I’m going to help him look for Karl again.”

“Dad, no. After everything, you’re still going to—?”

“If there’s anything to learn about your mother here on the Godseye, then I’m going to find it. And if this god feels like he has to punish me first to know the truth, then—” He looks back at her pleadingly. “Please understand, Chase. I have to.”

Chase turns away angrily. “Yeah, sure. Do whatever the hell you want.”

“Chase, I—”

But it’s too late. The slam of the door tells us that he’s gone into his room. Askal lifts an inquiring head up from the rug, then flops down with a small grunt, quickly losing interest.

Gries turns back to me. “Are you going to risk returning to your family?”

“No. My father is being cared for. This is more serious.”

He clasps my shoulder. “I know I’m asking too much of you again, but I need you to promise that you’ll stay with him while I’m gone. Keep a weapon near.”

I know nothing I can say will change his mind. “I’d do that even without you asking me, sir,” I say quietly. “Come back quickly, for his sake. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Gries laughs—a hurt, painful sound. “No,” he agrees. “Chase doesn’t, but I do. That’s what you’re not saying. And I agree.”

Fifteen

The Cabin

“How long are you going to stay in there and sulk?” I ask.

No answer. I rap on the door. Still nothing.

I sit on the couch and survey the rest of the room, placing my small machete on the table by the door. The living room had been commandeered for Leo Gries’s use; there is paperwork in small piles on the table and another area that has been allocated for his study, as neat as any clutter could manage. His laptop had been left open in his haste to leave.

I move toward it.

It’s confusing. There are emails: conversations between Leo and other staff, other producers of the show. There are discussions regarding how long they expect to stay on the island before filming wraps, the associated costs and expenses, along with bullet point presentations of how they expect to plot the show. I search for the emails that specify the Kisapmata and the Godseye, and find a thread dated four months ago.