Apocalyptic Island - Chapter 43

Chapter 43

There was no unusual smell in the water pipes, and the water flowing out was extremely clean.

When a person is dying of thirst, they don’t care about anything else. The icy water washed away the dirt on her hands. Wen Yishu washed her hands clean, then took a small sip.

The cold liquid swirled in her mouth; it had no strange taste. She took several large gulps, gave herself a simple wash, and then turned off the faucet.

Feeling much better, Wen Yishu pulled on an aerial root that had extended downward, climbed up the trunk, and walked into the small house the banyan had built for her.

She changed into a fresh set of clothes, took the warm yellow blanket, and leaned comfortably against the protective pillow.

The scent of fresh greenery filled her nose. The String of Pearls lay by the window. With steady breathing, Wen Yishu knew this might be the safest place, and so she fell into a deep sleep.

Countless branches and leaves of the banyan tree curved down like a pair of warm, giant hands, wrapping the little house on the trunk inside. Although it was a bit cold, this was one of the few good nights of sleep Wen Yishu had had over the past two days.

The next day, Wen Yishu opened her eyes. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches and shone directly onto her face. Holding onto the somewhat rough handrail, she sat up from the bed.

She draped the blanket over her shoulders. Wen Yishu felt the temperature had risen slightly, though she wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination. Having not seen sunlight for a long time, she found it very dazzling and had to adjust for a while before she could clearly see the pale daylight on the back of her hand.

Wen Yishu’s first reaction was to open her optical computer, but then her hand paused. She had almost forgotten that she couldn’t connect to the network now; her optical computer was just a simple tool that could only show direction and time.

Wen Yishu sighed and resigned herself to getting up to wash. Today, she had to consider how to get back. After a night’s rest and the banyan’s help, her injuries had improved significantly, and she no longer felt the paralyzed sensation from yesterday.

An aerial root slowly gathered a lump of moist soil from her washing area, dug a small puddle, and extended its root into it to drink water.

Wen Yishu scanned her surroundings, feeling like she was in an old-school post-apocalyptic survival novel. An isolated house, one person, plenty of supplies—except she lacked the protagonist’s foresight, and her preparations weren’t that thorough. Aside from the banyan, some ferns, and insects, the area was clean of other plants and animals.

Wen Yishu couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Are there no other animals here besides you?”

That gentle voice came through again: “None. The birds froze to death on the first day. Even with my protection, they couldn’t seem to withstand such cold. As for other animals, there are rats, but I’ve negotiated with them not to come bother you, for fear they might lose their lives.”

Wen Yishu smiled and listened as she continued: “Others are very rare. After all, this used to be a park. Humans transplanted other plants, leaving only me and what you see here.”

Wen Yishu wasn’t surprised by this. After all, a banyan can form a forest on its own; if there were other plants nearby, they wouldn’t grow well. However, she didn’t even see any parasitic or orchid-type plants on its body. If this was said to be the result of meticulous human maintenance, it didn’t seem quite right. Given the banyan’s massive size and height, processing it that way would be too much trouble. The Federation wouldn’t waste so much financial and material resources to fix such small flaws; as long as there were no major blunders, they mostly got by with such non-profit free projects.

Seeing Wen Yishu’s contemplative gaze, the banyan seemed to know what she was thinking and took the initiative to break the silence: “Are you looking to see if there are parasites on my body?”

Wen Yishu’s expression was a bit strange, unsure if it meant literally or something else.

“Yes. In human terms, parasites. Do you remember me telling you before that I once had a serious illness?”

Wen Yishu nodded. She rummaged through the shipping container for something to eat as breakfast. But her hoard of canned luncheon meat was so vast that the metal cans seemed endless at a glance. Without a heating device, she didn’t want to eat such greasy, cold, hard food, so she put it down and continued listening to the banyan.

“Is that part of the reason you are friendly toward humans?” Wen Yishu guessed reasonably. She always felt that although the banyan was of a high rank, it wouldn’t have goodwill toward humans for no reason. After all, when the mutation broke out, she had seen many humans killed by plants.

The giant tree shadow in her mind shook, appearing very joyful. However, the tremor of the shadow didn’t stop, and the leaves rustled loudly. That joyful mood lasted only a few seconds before the shadow became somewhat frenzied. This emotional shift was very obvious; Wen Yishu clearly felt the surrounding atmospheric pressure drop.

She climbed onto the container, trying to look the banyan in the eye and speak as equals.

“Of course. I think you’ve heard of the Dodder plant?”

A strand of golden vine appeared before Wen Yishu’s eyes, like a memory greeting the banyan proactively shared with her. It was intertwined with the banyan, merging with the emerald leaves; the soft vines looked like a layer of gold plating over the gray bark. Those golden branches hung down with the aerial roots, looking like swaying tassels from a distance—very beautiful.

The appearance of these Dodders was the beginning of the banyan’s nightmare.

At first, it was just a small strand, using its fragile stem to climb the banyan’s trunk. Small buds grew where it touched the branches, turning into disgusting haustoria that stabbed straight into the banyan’s limbs. It had no chloroplasts and relied entirely on the host to survive, sucking the marrow out of the young banyan. It is a notorious killer in the plant kingdom, a vampire with no conscience.

Under its suction, the banyan withered day by day. People didn’t notice at first, but as the banyan’s condition worsened, everyone took notice. The people of the old era were simple and honest; dozens of them spent several days thoroughly eradicating this shameless parasitic species. The incinerated vines were turned into ash and scattered on the soil around the banyan’s trunk. Without human intervention, it would have been sucked dry by the Dodder before long. On the surface, it would have remained standing, but death would have arrived, and the Dodder would have completely replaced the banyan. One day, its massive body would have crashed down, becoming nothing but a hollow trunk.

Wen Yishu didn’t know much about it, only that it was a medicinal herb, and remained ignorant of its terrifying consequences. Perhaps the Federation had controlled this area too well; she dared not think what a destructive blow to Earth it would be if such a plant mutated.

No wonder the banyan was so friendly to humans—not only because of its socialization but because humans had protected it and saved its life countless times. Of course, this conclusion was limited to Wen Yishu; after all, there were plenty of posts on the social feeds about the banyan flinging people away. It didn’t like being disturbed; it wanted to live in mutual non-aggression and peace with humans. But such a luxury would likely vanish once the Federation mastered the method to eliminate mutated plants.

Wen Yishu emerged from the vision and rubbed her temples. This kind of visual communication seemed to tire her mentally. The sunlight on her body didn’t feel warm, but it improved her mood significantly. She hadn’t seen the sun for a long time; it seemed that after that damn rain, the sun had never appeared.

The time on her optical computer now pointed to 9:00 AM. The sunlight broke through the clouds completely, and the clouds floating in the sky dissipated under this round of sun. The branches and leaves overhead quietly stopped extending once the sun shone down fully. That rustling sound of wind blowing through leaves suddenly vanished.

The silence was terrifying. Wen Yishu suddenly felt something was wrong. She curled her fingers, her black gloves gripping the edge of the container as she jumped down.

She stepped forward quickly: “What’s wrong with you?”

No voice answered her. There was only silence. The banyan wasn’t the type to be rude; it wouldn’t suddenly ignore her. Wen Yishu asked a few more times in confusion, but still no response. The aerial roots that had been twisting freely now hung lifelessly, just like ordinary branches before the apocalypse—immobile. Wen Yishu pushed an aerial root; after the red rootlets swayed in the air for a while, they returned to stillness.

She thought of the String of Pearls in her pocket and pulled it out. “What’s wrong with it? Why did it suddenly stop talking to me?”

The String of Pearls had also become wilted. Its vines, which usually never stopped whipping around, hung limp. It replied weakly, “I don’t know… I feel so lazy… I really want to sleep.”

The branches overhead swayed in the wind, the sunlight intermittently shining on the String of Pearls in Wen Yishu’s hand. The next second, the plant, which still had some spirit, fell into a deep slumber. Wen Yishu shook it, and the String of Pearls swayed randomly as if it had never mutated, allowing her to manipulate it at will.

The surroundings fell into complete silence. Simultaneously, in places she couldn’t see, information on the social feeds exploded.

“The sun is out!” “The plants—it seems all the plants have stopped moving!” “Is the apocalypse over? Is this my hallucination?”

Wen Yishu tucked the String of Pearls back into her pocket and looked up at the sunlight. It must be related to the sun. Since the banyan was of a high rank, the sun’s influence on it was massive, or rather, its resistance was also very strong. The reason it didn’t fall into a deep sleep initially was due to its volume and the intensity of the light.

Without the banyan’s help, she was stuck alone in the forest. Now that the sun was fully out, the banyan, like the String of Pearls, had unconsciously let its consciousness fall into deep slumber. She hadn’t even had time to return to the treehouse above. Wen Yishu looked up to re-measure the distance, preparing to climb up manually. She didn’t know when the banyan would wake up; for the time being, she had to rely entirely on herself.

Wen Yishu grabbed a hollow in the trunk with one hand and braced her feet to climb, when her nose caught a foul stench that didn’t belong to a human. Suddenly, a liquid silently squirted down from the tree. On instinct, she dodged to the side; the yellow liquid almost brushed her clothes as it splashed onto the banyan’s trunk.

Wen Yishu looked up. High in the canopy, a black dot gradually enlarged in her vision. As it got closer, Wen Yishu saw what it was—a large red-furred squirrel, the size of a fat cat, staring with jet-black eyes as it pounced toward her at high speed.

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