Holden

"Where you going?" Angel asked as Holden packed up his stuff. She leaned back in her broken chair, chewing on a Twizzler as she tied up her dark ringlets in a bun. She'd finished her work hours ago, but had stuck around the office. Holden had assumed it was because she didn't want to clock out early, but at some point, fifteen bucks an hour wasn't worth sticking around for.

Holden slung his backpack over his arm. "I have a meeting with Dr. Chari."

Angel nodded as she chewed.

"...Why are you staring at me?" asked Holden.

She shrugged. "Want company?"

He raised an eyebrow, threading his arm through the other strap of his bag. "I thought you hated being around me."

Angel waved her hand in dismissal. "Hate is a strong word."

"You've literally told me, ‘I can't stand you, go jump off a bridge.'"

"Humor is a fine art, Holden. I wouldn't expect you to appreciate my wit and charm."

"I don't know how exciting this is going to be," Holden admitted. "I think Dr. Chari just likes the fact I'm listening to her."

"I thought she said she never wanted to meet your ugly face. Why does she suddenly want you to listen to her?"

"She didn't... That's not..." Holden sighed. "Don't you have better things to do than follow me around campus and insult me?"

"Not today. I'm getting a divorce, and my ex is cleaning his stuff out of the apartment. I'm trying to avoid the place."

Holden frowned. "You're too young for a divorce."

Angel stood and dropped her phone in her purse. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not the only loser in their thirties stuck in this crummy job. I just have better skin than you." She sauntered past him, opening the door of the office. "So tell me more about this sciencey mystery of yours."

Holden caught Angel up on the Dupont saga as they walked to the Forest Science Complex. He even mentioned Dupont's last recording.

"Other than the trees and their superspawn, the creepiest thing is the whole bit about the dead hiker." Angel shuddered. "This is why I don't camp."

"I googled Naomi Vo." Holden held the door open for Angel. "She'd be our age if she were still alive. The study isn't as old as I thought."

"The plot thickens." Angel rubbed her hands together. "This is much more exciting than arguing with my ex over who keeps the Egyptian cotton bedsheets."

The inside of the Forest Science Complex smelled like the woods, which felt eerie, given why they were here. Holden pulled up the email from Dr. Chari on his phone. "Four-B. Is that the basement level?"

Angel pointed to a door marked Stairs. "Are you sure she isn't planning on killing you?"

Holden wasn't sure; he didn't really know her, after all. Angel had been right back in the office—his brief interactions with Chari didn't add up. She'd been near-threatening at first. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, since her old institution hadn't taken her work seriously.

But she was his only lead. CalTech still hadn't called him back, which likely meant they didn't need Dr. Dupont's data. And the closer Holden got to this thing, the more he felt like an outsider.

The other night, Lauren had asked him why he cared so much, and he'd given her a half answer because he didn't have a good one. The mystery of the drive distracted him from the pathetic fact he needed to get his life together, and he didn't think he'd feel otherwise after today.

Maybe it was time to hand the drive over to his boss. This was all above his pay grade, anyway.

They descended into the basement. The door to 4B was cracked open, and the lights were off when Holden and Angel entered. Stacked desks and chairs lined the walls. In the center, on a cart, a projector hummed—an ancient one with the carousel wheel and photo slides the size of a thumb. It was on and warmed up, shining an empty square against the front wall.

Dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt, Dr. Chari casually sat on top of a desk with her laptop, typing away.

She glanced up and nodded toward Angel. "Who's she?"

"A coworker following me around to avoid her ex-husband," said Holden.

"Way to air my dirty laundry," Angel muttered.

Chari frowned. "I wasn't expecting guests."

"I... uhh... was with Holden when he brought the drive into IT." Angel jutted her chin. "You can say I'm helping him."

Holden rolled his eyes.

Chari looked unimpressed, but didn't tell Angel to leave. Instead, she slid off the desk and handed Holden her open laptop. "Found your girl."

Holden dropped his bag and took the laptop from her, setting it on a nearby desk. He sat and read the article title.

Caltech Researchers Awarded Funding to Return to Alpenglow Glacier.

The caption of the first photo read: From left to right: Emmett Ghosh, Dr. Cameron Yarrow, Dr. Siena Dupont, Dr. Wilder Feyrer.

It was a casual photo from the field. The four of them stood crowded together, backdropped by a mountain vista. The older man, Dr. Feyrer, was the one taking the selfie, looking sharp in a Sierra Club hat and neon Croakies. He seemed happy.

They all seemed so happy. And the other three—they were nothing like Holden had imagined.

What had he imagined? Withered dorks in khakis and tucked-in t-shirts, sort of like Dr. Feyrer? Holden had even heard Dupont speak, but he hadn't expected a bright-eyed woman with a gap between her front teeth and her hair in two braids. He hadn't expected someone his age. And Cameron and Emmett—they couldn't have been much older, if older at all. Cameron was thin, boyish and tan. She looked like she'd been laughing. She and Siena were both white. Emmett was Indian and Abercrombie-handsome, the type of guy you'd find on a football field, not in a lab.

Holden skimmed the article. There was no mention of an Isaac Perez. The article dated from four years ago, which meant the study wasn't old at all. Between then and now, Isaac had joined the team and died during the expedition.

Angel slid behind Holden. "Ohhh, I get why you care about all this, now. That Dr. Dupont is cute."

Holden regretted letting Angel tag along, even though she was onto something. In a strange way, Siena reminded him of Becca. Same eyes, he concluded. Maybe their face shape. But it didn't matter—Holden wasn't here to pine after Dr. Dupont. "This is the first time I've ever seen her."

"Cute girls have cute voices."

He ignored her and looked up at Dr. Chari. "You're sure you don't know them?"

"I knew Wilder, the older gentleman. Just learned he passed away from cancer, sadly. He contacted me several years ago, after I was pulled off my Deadswitch study. Wanted to compare my cell samples to his own findings a couple of decades prior."

"I thought they were geologists, or something." Holden stood from the desk. "They were studying a glacier. Why would they care about your cell samples?"

"Geomorphologists." Dr. Chari approached the projector and began fiddling with it. "They study the topography of the earth, but also the processes that affect it, including the biological ones. Wilder had taken an interest in some of the old growth on Mount Agnes—trees with root systems uncommon for the area. He found cellular anomalies—as did I."

Dr. Chari advanced the slides until the microscopic image of a cell cluster projected onto the wall. Even given the old analog machine, the image was sharp and detailed, the cells the size of basketballs.

"These cells are from my samples of the lodgepole xylem tissue—the wood that matured in forty-eight hours. Notice anything?"

Holden studied the cells, wondering if his brain could dredge up something that would make him seem smarter than he was. "I barely passed biology," he finally admitted.

"I thought plant cells were supposed to look different," Angel said. "More like bricks, or something."

"Perhaps leaf or vegetable skin patterns," Chari said. "But xylem has a structure made up of mostly long, dead cells that transport minerals and water to the rest of the tree."

"I take it these aren't those cells," said Holden.

"No. Instead, these cells have a similar structure to live plant cells: cell walls, cytoplasm, nuclei, et cetera. But if you look here—come closer. Do you see that fine fuzz around the cell?"

Holden could see it, but just barely. The fuzz reminded him of eyelashes or feathers.

"Those are cilia," she said. "Plant cells don't have cilia."

"What kind of cells have cilia?"

"Animal."

Holden tore his eyes from the screen to stare at her. Dr. Chari stared back.

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Holden.

"I don't know what it means, but I'm certain of its connection to Dr. Feyrer's research. We were on the brink of a discovery that would have changed our rudimentary understanding of life. Then I was pulled, and the project lost its funding," Chari bitterly concluded.

Holden recalled the last recording in the file list—the one he'd listened to first.

I scraped some of it off me and ran the cells beneath the scope.

Something's not right with them.