CHAPTER 5
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Across the Hills
They set out, walking side by side. The starlight was enough to see by, at least while they were still on the road. No moon shone. The moon had disappeared in the way it did every now and then; Lina wasn’t sure why. It grew from a silver sliver to a silver circle and shrank back into a sliver and disappeared, and it did this over and over. When she asked Doctor Hester why, she said, “It’s because of the earth’s shadow,” but the doctor was in a tearing hurry that day, rushing off to help someone who’d cut himself with his axe, and that was all she said before dashing out the door.
The night was utterly still except for their footsteps on the road. No birds sang at this hour. On the left, the black bare branches of the trees stood against the slightly lighter black of the sky. On the right, the fields stretched away, scattered with the dead tomato vines that had been left to lie where they fell after the harvest.
For a while, Lina and Doon didn’t speak. They walked quickly and steadily until they were beyond the last fields and the last outlying houses of the village. Lina could feel the cold air traveling down into her chest with each breath. The tip of her nose was cold, and the tops of her ears. She pulled the knitted hat she was wearing farther down. It was thrilling to be out this early, starting an adventure, striding along through the darkness with Doon. But still a sense of uneasiness stayed with her, like something growling softly in the pit of her stomach.
After a while, the sky behind the distant mountains faded to a lighter shade of black, and then to a shade lighter still, and then to a beautiful deep blue-green.
“The sun’s coming up,” Lina said.
They watched as they walked. A brightness appeared above the line of the hills, first a dim orange and then a blazing yellow, until at last the gold eye of the sun sailed up from wherever it had been and the whole world filled with light.
Lina took a long deep breath. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it, Doon? Even in winter, when everything is brown and gray, this place is still beautiful.”
Doon gazed out across the grassy meadow to where the trees began at its farthest edge. “It’s beautiful,” he said, “but hard to live in. Are things so hard everywhere, I wonder? Maybe there are places in the world where life is easier.”
“Where people live happily ever after,” Lina said, thinking of the book Edward had shown them. Maybe this quest they were on would bring happily-ever-after to Sparks.
Doon shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted upward. “We need to go northeast now,” he said, “toward the mountains. Remember how we came across the squash fields when we arrived here? They’re over that way.”
The going was harder after they left the road. Their feet turned on the rough clumps of earth, and mud clung to their shoes. Soon the way began to slope upward, and a while later they came to the top of the first ridge of hills.
Lina stopped here and turned around. “This is where we first saw the town,” she said. “Remember?”
They gazed down at it. It looked very different now from when they’d seen it that first time, nine months ago. Then a carpet of green had covered the hills, and the little buildings had looked peaceful beside their thriving fields. Now the fields were bare, and a haze of smoke hung in the air. The houses and shops had a huddled look, as if they were crowding together to keep warm.
They walked for a long time, perhaps an hour, perhaps more. Soon, Lina thought, we should come to the road we walked along when we came out of Ember, the road that ran alongside a stream. But there was no sign of it yet—only, in all directions, the gray-brown grass, the gray-green oak trees, and the small groves of trees with no leaves at all.
“I know we came this way,” Doon said, as if he were reading her thoughts. “Because look—even though it’s been so long, you can still see the path our feet trampled.”
It was true. You couldn’t see it very clearly, but if you looked hard, there it was: a wide strip of ground where the grass had not simply fallen or been blown sideways by the wind, but was flattened by the tread of eight hundred feet. It was like the ghost of a road, winding across the landscape. They followed it. Lina kept her eyes on a clump of oak trees in the distance that was shaped a bit like a hand in a mitten. Watching the trees gradually get closer was a way to tell they were making progress.
“So,” said Lina, “tell me what you’ve figured out from the book.”
Doon said nothing. He tramped on as if he hadn’t heard her, frowning at the ground. So Lina asked her question again, louder. “Doon! Did the book give you some clues?”
Doon sighed. “Well, not really,” he said. “I wish I’d gotten that roamer to tell me where she found it. I don’t know if it was in Ember or outside of Ember.”
“And did you figure out what the book is about?”
“Well, it’s directions for something, we know that. But I still can’t tell exactly what.”
“Did you bring it with you?”
Doon nodded. “The trouble is, there’s so much missing. The book doesn’t even begin until page forty-seven—all the pages before that have been torn out.”
“What’s on page forty-seven?” Lina asked.
“Just two words: ‘Technical Information.’ ”
“What does ‘technical’ mean?”
“I think it must mean hard, complicated, and impossible to understand,” said Doon.
“So what about the rest of the pages?”
“Three of them have charts and graphs and diagrams that I can’t make any sense of at all,” said Doon. “The other four are torn and smudged, but I can more or less read them. I went through and underlined things that seemed like clues. I’ll show you, later on.”
“But are they useful clues?” Lina asked. “Do they tell us what we’re looking for? And where it might be?”
Doon looked off into the distance with a slight frown. “Well, sort of,” he said. “I mean, yes, definitely, some of them are useful, I’m sure.”
Lina listened with dismay. “You mean,” she said, “that we really don’t know much more than we did three days ago?”
“We know a little more,” said Doon.
“But we’re going on this trip anyhow?”
Doon stopped walking then and turned to her with a sort of half smile. “Do you wish we hadn’t come?”
Lina realized she didn’t really wish that. A feeling of uneasiness lurked at the back of her mind, and what Doon had just said about the book made it worse. But still, it was glorious to be out here, on their own, hiking across the hills in pursuit of a mystery—even if the mystery was never solved. “No,” she said, smiling back. “I’m glad we came.”
When the sun told them it was around noon, they stopped to eat the first of the food they’d brought, and then, without resting long, went on their way again. Far up in the sky, toward the east, great black-winged birds floated in soundless circles.
“Do you see them?” Lina said, pointing. “Kenny said they come after the wolves have killed something.”
Doon gazed up, shading his eyes. “I suppose they come when anything dies, whether wolves have killed it or not.”
Lina nodded, thinking about this. It seemed horrible to her, the way animals killed each other, the pain and blood and gruesome death. She could not understand why this world, which was so full of beauty and wonder, had to also be so full of horrors.
“Doon,” she said. “I just thought of something. There might be—I mean, not everyone got out of Ember. We might find . . . we might come across—” She stopped and swallowed. “There couldn’t be anyone still alive there, could there?”
“I doubt it,” said Doon. “How could they find food in total darkness? And if the generator has stopped, there wouldn’t be water pumped up into the city.”
“Then there might be dead people.”
“I know,” Doon said. “I thought about that, too. It would be awful. But we have to be ready for it.”
After that, they walked in silence again for a while, both occupied with somber thoughts. This would not be the lively, familiar city of their memories; they knew that. It would be a dead city, and there might be dead bodies in it. They would need all their courage.
They came to the top of another ridge of hills from which they could see a great expanse of land. “The world is absolutely huge,” said Lina.
“Yes, and what we can see is only a tiny, tiny bit of it.” Doon told Lina about a map Edward had shown him in a book. Edward (who had learned this from the town schoolteacher) had explained that Sparks was no more than a minute dot in the big pink area that stood for the whole land, which was only one of the lands in the unimaginably enormous world. “There were words all over the map,” Doon said. “They were the names of cities and towns that used to be everywhere, before the Disaster.”
“Did you know,” said Lina, “that some people in faraway places speak in other languages, with completely different words from ours? Doctor Hester told me that.”
“I know it,” Doon said. “A few books in the Ark have other languages in them.”
“It’s so strange, isn’t it?” Lina said. “Why would you use all different words instead of the ones everyone already knows?”
“I’m not sure,” said Doon. “So much is mysterious here.”
They walked on and on. Lina’s feet hurt where her shoes rubbed against her heels. Doon stopped now and then to stare at something that interested him—once it was a lizard sunbathing on a rock, another time a huge black and yellow beetle. “Just look at it!” Doon said, picking up the beetle and letting it crawl on his hand. “It’s gorgeous! Who could ever think up such a thing?” Lina would just as soon have skipped the lizards and beetles and moved on a little faster. A sharp wind started up, and she pulled her cap farther down over her ears. It seemed to her they’d gone a tremendous distance, and still their goal wasn’t in sight. The daylight would be fading soon. She felt a nip of fear.
But a little later, they came to the stream that the refugees from Ember had followed on their first trip, and the broken, weedy road that ran beside it. Then they knew for sure they were on the right track. They circled around the base of a great rock that thrust up out of the ground like a giant’s shoulder, rising in rounded humps higher than they were tall. “I think I remember seeing this rock when we came out of Ember,” Lina said. “After we’d been walking only a little while.”
Doon thought he remembered it, too. “We should be there soon,” he said.
The sun sank lower in the sky, and the gray twilight settled down. Night was coming. Lina thought of the warm kitchen at home and shivered.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, they came to a place they instantly recognized.
“There it is!” Lina cried. She put down her pack and ran forward, up the slope, with Doon right behind her. It was the strangest feeling, to be here again, to see that opening in the mountainside that had been their gateway to a new world. It looked the same, a dark hole in the rock big enough for a wide wagon to go through.
They peered inside. Had anyone been here since that day they came out from Ember? If so, there was no sign of it. Maybe a wanderer took shelter in here now and then from the rain; maybe an animal slept here sometimes. But all they saw was the empty cave and the path leading inward and down.
“Think if we’d come out in the winter instead of in the summer,” Lina said. “We might not have seen the moon or the stars, if it had been a cloudy night. And the grass wouldn’t have been green, and we’d have been cold.”
“And even if we’d seen the fox,” Doon said, “he wouldn’t have had that plum in his mouth, and so we wouldn’t have known to eat the plums ourselves.”
They stood there at the cave’s edge for a bit, thinking about how lucky they’d been. Then Doon shouldered his pack again, and Lina went back and fetched hers.
“Now,” he said, “the next thing is to go up and around, that way”—he pointed—“and find that little crack where we went in.”
It wasn’t hard to find. The first time, it had taken ages, because they hadn’t known what they were looking for. This time they went almost straight to it: a spot where a low place in the ground, a sort of dent, led to a narrow slit in the mountainside.
The sun was sitting just at the horizon now; in a few minutes, darkness would fall.
“We’ll just go in and look,” Doon said. “And then we’ll make our camp for the night.”
They pulled candles from their packs and lit them. Then they edged into the passage and slowly, taking small steps, made their way along its twists and turns. Their shadows loomed beside them on the rocky walls, and the passage had the dank smell of old, cold dirt.
“Almost there, I think,” said Lina, who was in front. “Yes—here’s the edge.”
Just ahead, the light of her candle showed the edge where the ground dropped away. She reached back for Doon’s hand, and he came up beside her. This was where they’d stood when they threw the message down to their dying city—the message that saved Ember’s people. Lina remembered exactly how it had felt to fling that bundle—the scrap of paper wrapped in Doon’s shirt and weighted with a rock—as hard and as far as she could. Then, they’d been able to see the lights of Ember far below. Now, of course, there was only a vast darkness.
“Wait,” said Doon. “I think—”
“Me too,” said Lina. “It looks like—”
Doon lowered his voice to a whisper. “Let’s blow out our candles, just for a moment.”
They did. They gazed downward. It was unmistakable. A dim, pulsing orange light shone from somewhere in the heart of the city.