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notes.
    “There’s a reference to Eden in the Book of Amos, but I think it’s a different one,” said Chris. “There’s an awful lot of smiting in this chapter.”
    “There’s a reference in Ezekiel, but it’s not particularly helpful,” said Luke.
    “Is that the guy who saw spaceships? There’s this great book by Erich Von—”
    “There seem to be a lot of medical papers.” Luke lifted a stack of photocopied pages from one of the boxes.
    “My mother was a doctor. I think they relate more to what she was hoping to find.”
    “What was she—”
    “So, are your parents religious?” said Chris, flicking through a pad of hand-written notes. “I mean, ‘Luke?’”
    “Star Wars fans,” said Luke. “We had a dog called ‘Solo.’”
    Several minutes passed in silence as they leafed through scattered notes and battered books. Chris lifted a slim travel journal from the bottom of the crate, running her fingers over the soft leather face. Her mother hadn’t even remembered to take it with her on that fatal expedition. Chris tossed the journal onto the floor, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples.
    “We know from Genesis that there was a river running through Eden, which parted into four smaller rivers,” said Luke. “One of which was the Euphrates.”
    “Yeah, and the other one goes through Ethiopia. It’s not even the same continent.”
    Luke picked up the journal, flicking through leaves of yellowed paper. The blank pages seemed steeped in sorrow, radiating a sense of unbearable loss. His fingers stopped on a section of the cover.
    “Where did your mother get this journal?” said Luke.
    “She made it. She was good with a scalpel.”
    In a smooth motion, Luke pulled a specimen knife from the shelf and sliced down the spine of the journal.
    “Hey!” Chris lunged for the blade.
    Luke quickly made two more incisions along the cover before Chris grabbed his wrist.
    “Aren’t you supposed to ask first?” said Chris angrily.
    “In case you said ‘No.’”
    “That’s why you’re supposed to ask.” She pulled the knife from him.
    “Sorry,” said Luke. “If I’m wrong, you can kick me off the expedition.”
    Chris watched as Luke peeled the stiff leather from the back of the journal. Beneath the skin, on the yellowed cardboard cover, a flat steel key had been stuck fast with tape. Beside it, in black marker, was the word “Liada.”
    Chris covered her mouth with a hand, turning away quickly.
    “Are you okay?” asked Luke.
    Chris forced herself to swallow, taking a slow breath. Since when had her mother been into secret-agent stuff? She had been a doctor, one of the best in the area, and well on her way to becoming Director of Trauma Services at the district hospital. Everyone thought she had been crazy to leave everything behind and go off on a wild expedition to who knew where, looking for who knew what. But then again, she’d changed. She hadn’t been the same after—
    “My sister,” said Chris. “Liada was my little sister. She died of leukaemia when she was seven.”
    Two years later, her mother had joined the SinaCorp mission.
    “I’m sorry,” said Luke.
    The journal hadn’t been made to be written in—it had been a memorial.
    “I think I know what the key unlocks,” said Chris.
    * * *
    There had been a time when the next birthday had been taken for granted. When Chris had assumed she would buy next season’s clothes, would plan next New Year’s Eve, would watch next year’s movies.
    All that had ended with Liada’s diagnosis.
    There would be no next birthday for Liada. No next New Year’s Eve. No next anything. Just now.
    All talk about the future just…stopped. Every topic seemed fraught with heartbreak—Liada’s ambition to become a microbiologist, her desire to get a pet lizard next year, her fantasy of living in the Galapagos Islands one day. Instead, Chris would sit on Liada’s bed and read stories to her, always the ones with happy endings—the