A Pitcher of Poison

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room.

Cara still thought of it as her brother’s room even though he had been gone a season now. He had been a great forager, smart, quick, skilled. He’d promised that once she was 14 he’d start taking her out with him but her birthday was last week and here she still was, peering through the cracked glass bandaged with duct tape.

All the other windows in the block had been boarded up, braced against the incursion of twisting roots and seeking tendrils but her brother had kept his, occasionally he would go out wielding a torch and burn any vegetation that approached the window. Now it was growing closer again, Cara could see one delicate green shoot reaching out, almost touching the shattered glass. She knew she would have to leave soon. As dangerous as the world outside might be here she was a sitting duck. She needed food, boards, firewood, nails. She would probably have to board up this window, once she had the supplies, if she made it back alive.

She had debated asking one of her neighbours to go with her. Jennet might have let her, Geordie certainly would but whilst they could help her survive she knew the couldn’t and wouldn’t help her find Callum. It was one of the first rules of the colony: don’t go looking for people, whatever got them would probably get you too. Especially if you’re a useless dweller who’s never been outside and they were the best forager in the block.

Cara couldn’t not look, worse than starving, worse than the green tendrils creeping towards her was the thought that kept her awake at night, what if Callum was still out there? Stuck, lost, waylaid but not dead.

She had started making preparations a few days ago. In fits and starts, trying not to think too much about what was ahead of her. She packed Callum’s spare backpack with matches, a torch, water bottle, rope, the rest of her food (not much), spare socks, a compass. She wrote a note to Jennet explaining where she had gone and one to Callum just in case he came back. She swept their rooms, tidied away what was left of their belongings and that was it. She was out of things to do - she picked up the machete that she had found under Callum’s mattress, pried the board free from her window (so no one would try to stop her from leaving) and took her first breath of outside air. It was hot with a heavy mildewy fug to it, not like the filtered air she was used to breathing. She’s tied a scarf around her mouth as a precaution and the damp was already clinging to it making it feel like a clammy hand suffocating her. She longed to tear it off but she knew stray seeds and spores could plant themselves inside her lungs feeding off her nitrate filled body til they were strong enough to branch out in search of new victims.

She checked the compass and started out heading north. She’d meant to leave early in the morning when the sun was week and the plants were sluggish and lazy but she’d woken up late and the sub was already high in the sky. Green tendrils creeping shoots and vines snaked their way upwards, growing ever taller. Down on the ground Cara was soon devoured by shade, lush undergrowth spreading around her like a dark sea, rippling with currents of movement, the wind perhaps or sone small wary creature scurrying along the forest floor.

She moved forward slowly feeling the ground with the blade of her machete before taking each step. Cautiously she hacked away any vine that strayed within her arm span. She started to feel light headed and realised she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly, for all her fear it was hard not to get distracted. The glimpse of the outside world she had seen through the shattered window had done nothing to prepare her for this. Life pulsed around her, the sky was an intense violet blue, she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, hear the old leaves rustling beneath her feet. It felt like too much as if her senses would become overloaded and she would be swept away from her body. It was almost impossible to…

Her foot caught on something and she snapped back to awareness, one second too late a green tendril was already tugging at her ankle. She slashed wildly with her machete as it yanked harder, trying to sweep her off balance, pull down on to the forest floor where she’d be easy pray for the many creepers of its mother plant. She could see another tendril now whipping through the undergrowth, searching for her other ankle. She brought the machete down hard, slicing the end away from her foot. She felt another hard tug and jumped desperately fingers outstretched to reach the branch above her head. She grasped it with one hand, feet kicking in a frantic attempt to free herself from the strangling vines. She heaved on the branch jerking her trapped leg up as she swung the machete down with her spare hand. The tendril twisted away, the loop on her ankle falling limp to the ground. She tucked the machete into her belt and pulled herself up onto the branch where she perched panting for breath.

She knew the other vines of the plant would keep searching for her but she didn’t know for how long. She felt it would be safest to continue above ground if such a thing were possible, she extended her crouch slightly peering around the trunk of the tree, assessing the possibilities. She knew Callum could have climbed through this forest, feet never touching the ground but she was unsure of her own capabilities. How far could she jump? It wasn’t a question she’d ever had much occasion to ask.

She settled for crawling wormlike to the nearest sturdy looking branch, luckily the close packed trees made it possible to pursue a crooked wandering course through the forest sticking to low branches, not testing her dubious luck.

Cara was exhausted and sweat was pouring from her overheated skin before she found anything she recognised. Once or twice she’d seen bursts of movement that could of been squirrels or birds but she knew she had no chance of catching those so she had made no effort to pursue them. But at last she spotted a small purple fruit sprouting from a branch high above her. She rested a moment taking a careful sip of her rationed water and wondering how best to approach gathering the fruit. Above her the branches quickly became thinner and more spindly, she didn’t trust herself or them if she attempted to climb up to the fruit. And yet she desperately needed food, needed to learn how to feed herself. Eventually she settled on tying her water bottle to the end of her rope and tossing it towards a fork in the tree. It took her several attempts but eventually she managed to toss the rope over the fork, the weighted end fell back towards her and she pulled firmly on both ends of the rope. She looped one about her waist and set about making her way up, aided by the rope. Her palms burnt from rubbing against rough rope and rough bark but her heart still rose within her chest as she looked out at the silent forest, in front of her a profusion of what looked like slightly shrivelled plums. She knew Callum had brought them back before, they would be safe to eat so she filled her pack eagerly, growing in confidences, stretching further in search of the sweet fruits.

By the time she was finished the sun was already sinking filling the forest with thick golden light that clung to every twig and leaf. Cara knew she had to head for home, now she had been outside herself she was starting to realise that searching for Callum would be an almost hopeless task. The thick vegetation, the agonising amount of time it took her to cover any distance, the impossibility of maintaining any direct course, all these things would count against her. She sighed deeply and began slowly retreating back across the network of branches that had formed her road. She consulted her compass often trying to gauge what way she had taken from the direction as well as the battered and broken foliage she’d left in her wake.

She was almost home when her eye was caught by a gleam of red, showing bright in the last of the dying sun. Callum’s backpack had been red, she gripped the machete tight in her left hand and crept off course. Heading once again deeper into the wood. The path became easier, the branches were wide and coated with a soft green moss that soothed her scraped palms. She moved a little faster, her heart quickening a little in her throat.

She was crawling fast now, the red blob stubbornly refused to refine itself into any definable shape. The smooth floor changed its texture, she had half a second to register the light rubbery feeling before it gave way tipping her down into the mouth of a gigantic pitcher. The sides were lined with soft smooth hairs that gave her nothing to grab onto as she tumbled desperately down into the dank depths of the pitcher plant. She knew the bottom would be filled with digestive fluids that would slowly consume her. Her fall was hampered though, soft clinging fibres broke against het as she flailed wildly. A spider had constructed a careful net above the stomach of the pitcher, Cara tried to tangle herself in the net, knowing she was only prolonging her death. She could see the fibres breaking and stretching under her weight. She sobbed desperately, she had been so stupid to blind and ignorant stumbling into the forest asking for death.

Then unbelievably she saw him, someone outlined dark against the sky. Leaning over, no diving into the mouth of the pitcher. ‘Callum’ she screamed, tearing through the web trying to will herself upwards towards him.

Arms clasped around her, pulling her free from the web, guiding her to the secure tug of a rope. The boy smiled crookedly at her, ‘you’re lucky I saw you fall, luckier I had my guide rope attached to that tree.’

The two of them dangled breathlessly. Feet skimming just shy of the acid depths. Cara spat our a mouthful of hair that had caught in her mouth and examined the stranger. He wad not Callum, in fact he looked so entirely unlike him that she couldn’t now understand how she had made the mistake. He has nut brown skin and wise hazel eyes, his teeth showed very white in the half light and she blushed a little not knowing what to say. ‘Come on’ he said, unfazed, ‘up the rope and we’re home clear.’ He half dragged her up the rope and she stepped guardedly after him, all her bravado gone as she limped out of the forest.

‘Thank you’ she managed as they neared the tree line. He nodded amiably ‘no trouble’, she stopped awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to run home and never leave it’s safety again but consumed by a thousand questions. ‘I thought you were supposed to leave people behind… you know if they got trapped’. The boy shrugged lightly ‘meant to doesn’t mean we always do. I generally don’t go around saving girls from pitcher plants but if the opportunity presents itself…’

He seemed to expect her to laugh but she stared rather intently at him and then said abruptly ‘do you live in block 11?’

‘No’ he replied, ‘I’m in block 12 - do you want me to walk you home?’

‘I think I’ve got it from here’ murmured Cara. She hitched down from the tree branch back on to solid earth. She walked firmly heading straight for the cracked window. There was a tendril of vine seeking ever closer to the remaining glass, Cara paused, rummaging through her pack for the matchbox. She would keep the window, the plants would burn.