Onliest

by J Daniel Batt

  Two things happened. We couldn’t escape the people in the Disc. They were mad. I was the one who suggested a solution. I wish I hadn’t. Neci and Tulce made it happen. We upped the oxygen content in the atmosphere and then locked ourselves in a Jacob up near the needle. We were desperate. We set the world on fire and let them burn. Some survived, but we were able to deal with them.”

  A silence fell and the two laid there as the weight of Pigeon’s words gripped Syn. The Sisters had set the world on fire.

  Pigeon continued, “The second thing was the lack of food. We’ve managed to grow some since. At first, it was a necessity. We were starving. Kin was the next to die and the first by our own hand. Neci made us do it. She said we had to eat. Kin was hurt badly. She wasn’t going to make it. We chose to hurry the process to keep the rest of us alive. We hated it, but we had to keep going. We even started hunting the survivors when we couldn’t find food elsewhere. We’ve been doing that for years. We’ve found ways to grow food, there’s a few food units in the farm layer that are still working, and we’re keeping animals alive. But when one of us dies, we still do it. Tulce died just days before you arrived. She was wounded during one of Neci’s plans to help us escape this place. We held off on a meal until you joined us last night.”

  Syn shut her eyes. These weren’t just copies of herself. They were something else. And she had joined them. She had…She felt herself start to gag and shut her mouth tight. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she gasped. The bile filling her mouth was bitter, and she grimaced at the taste.

  “You had to know,” Pigeon squeezed Syn’s hand tight.

  “Why?” Syn croaked. The world was floating away—spinning and darting as the thought of the charred meat in her stomach beat at her.

  “You must know. We’re not just mean. We’re not just survivors.” Pigeon let go of Syn’s hand and began to slide out of the bed. The cool air rushed in between the parting sheets. From the far side of the room, Pigeon’s final words that night leaked out, “We’re evil.”

  Syn fell out of the bed and crawled to a far corner. She retched and vomited in the dark. Over and over, the meal that included pieces of corn and something green and Tulce was hurled against the wall.

  31

  A Dance of Lights

  “Two footsteps do not make a path.”

  —Nnedi Okorafor

  The selection prepared for breakfast wasn’t quelling Syn’s turbulent stomach. Pigeon’s revelation hovered like a ghost. From some reading, possibly the words of Paul, Syn heard “Flesh of my flesh…If you eat of me…” Her stomach churned again.

  The table was sparse. A plate of some hardened chunks of bread. A strange collection of fruits that Syn had never seen. A few of the ripe apples, but only a few. Rounding out the fare was a small plate in front of each of them with a stiff, dried-out strip of meat. Syn clenched her teeth and averted her gaze from the brownish piece in front of her. It’s not human. It’s not human. It’s not me. It’s not me.

  But she knew that was a lie.

  “We’re out of apples,” Neci said, from the far end of the table where she and Taji had been talking and giggling. This morning, Neci was dressed in a tight-cropped halter top and simple leggings, both as white as milk. The pronouncement was to the rest of them who all spread apart, quiet and distant. Kerwen sat between her and the other two. Pigeon had been there at one time but was gone and now was back and Syn couldn’t remember when she had ever stood up, only that the girl’s position had changed. She was like a black cat, moving between the shadows and disappearing as soon as she appeared.

  Kerwen dropped her fork and groaned, falling forward and slamming her head against the table in mock resistance. “Do I have to?”

  Syn leaned in and whispered, her first words all morning, “Do what?”

  Neci raised her arms, palms up. “Taji has another assignment. Pigeon’s helping me in the workshop. You can have our stranger at the gates do it, but I don’t think she knows the way.”

  Syn’s eyes widened at the sound of the word “workshop.” Neci shot her a glance but didn’t comment, instead saying, “Perhaps if you show her how and where, she can do it next time. Consider it training your replacement.”

  Kerwen’s head lifted, and she narrowed her eyes at Neci.

  Neci smiled. “Poor choice of words.”

  The apology didn’t abate Kerwen’s concern. Not taking her eyes off of Neci, Kerwen said, “We’ll go in an hour.”

  Neci held up a hand. “Go the first part of the way with Taji—always good to go together.”

  Taji began to protest, “I’m not—”

  Neci put a hand on Taji’s arm and leaned in, staring into the girl’s eyes. “I need muscles. Big ones.” Standing up and walking away, she gave a short, sharp whistle and said, “Pigeon.”

  From the far doorway, Pigeon appeared and walked with a stunted gait, hesitant to follow but doing so nonetheless, her eyes locked to the ground.

  Syn muttered, scared to be heard by Taji, “The groves?” There were apple trees in the lower food levels, all manned by bots. She had visited them often, enjoying the walks between the tightly packed trees, fruit falling across her path. Her stays were always cut shorter than she wanted—the lower levels were all claustrophobia-inducing. The artificial light generators were embedded in the lowered ceiling, and it felt unnatural to have sunlight within arm’s reach, rather than far above in the emptiness of the false sky of Olorun. Syn shut her mouth tightly, realizing that, in asking, she had revealed more than she wanted. How would she explain knowing about the groves if the Ecology had her under lock and key all these years?

  If she had heard, Kerwen made no indication. Instead she was continuing to softly smack her head against the table, sighing, and muttering, “Dammit.”

  Syn turned the flashlight over in her hands, looking at both ends as if it were a wonder of the gods themselves. “But I thought everything burned?”

  “It did.”

  “So how are there any trees left to pick from?” She was careful to not mention her knowledge of the groves. “And where are these trees?”

  Kerwen flicked on her flashlight, illuminating the thin metal shed they were in. Dark, rusted tools hung around them. “There’s a few that are a bit tougher than others. And they weren’t up here. They’re down below.” She held the flashlight under her chin, casting long shadows across her face, and lowering her voice. “In…the…basements.” Kerwen gave a dark, mock cackle afterwards. Pointing the flashlight at the ground, she said, “Ever been there?”

  “The basements?”

  Kerwen smiled. “Come on. Follow me. The faster we get this done the better.”

  Syn left the workshop through the creaking door and walked in the direction of the main gate they had first entered Zondon through.

  “Where are you heading?” Kerwen shouted, slamming the door behind her.

  Syn turned and glanced around, suddenly lost and confused. The access to the lower levels had always been through the stairways off of the Jacobs. Each Jacob had an adjacent stairway to the lower levels, all the way down to the body farms. Zondon was in the middle of the base—it was a trek to the Jacobs. How else would they get there?

  Kerwen’s mouth dropped open, “Were you going outside?” She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing loudly. “We don’t go out unless we absolutely have to. And we’re just going for apples.” With a grunt, she turned around. “I said follow me.”

  Kerwen led to the right, past the main work-sheds, along the dirt covered path. To their right a sign boldly declared Aviary: The Birds of Earth. None of the paint had faded, in part due to its placement under an overhang, shielded from both the light and the elements.

  “Here first.” Kerwen turned into an alleyway and opened up a small door that Syn would’ve overlooked had it not been pointed out to her. Kerwen ducked inside, and Syn almost followed until she heard, “Wait here.” A moment later, Kerwen swore and several things cla
ttered to the ground, followed by a muffled, “Found it.” Kerwen reappeared gripping Syn’s spear in her hand.

  “You found it!” Syn immediately reached for it, brightening at the sight of her favorite weapon.

  Kerwen yanked it back, “Woah! Let’s lay down some ground rules.”

  Syn narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  “First, this is me trusting you. Not Neci nor Taji. Me. So point the pointy end away from me at all times.”

  “Taji knows you’re doing this?”

  “She won’t always be with us. And it doesn’t matter what Taji knows.”

  “If you’re so scared, why are you giving it to me?” Syn’s fingers were still splayed open, outstretched and ready.

  “There be some nasty ol’ things down where we going. Maybe we get out without stirrin’ anything up, but I’m not counting on it.” Kerwen moved the spear closer an inch, just beyond the edge of Syn’s fingertips.

  Syn lowered her voice to a whisper. “You don’t want me to stab you when you’re in front of me?”

  Kerwen nodded.

  Syn’s hand reached out in a flash and wrapped around the spear shaft, pulling it toward herself but Kerwen didn’t let go. Syn huffed, “Maybe before you held me down last night and threatened me, you should’ve thought about that.”

  Kerwen smiled. “See here,” she shot a glance at the spear, “This here is a peace offering. I need you to be armed. I can’t be doing my job and keeping an eye on you. And I also know that if I don’t give you a little trust, we ain’t ever gonna be okay.”

  Syn didn’t respond.

  Kerwen said, “Promise me?” She relaxed her hold but didn’t let go, allowing Syn to pull the spear closer. “Seriously. I don’t want to be enemies. Promise?” She inclined her head forward.

  Syn gave a slight nod, and Kerwen released the spear.

  Kerwen turned her back to Syn and began to walk down the pathway, a sign to her left pointing the way with a large green arrow to South America.

  Syn grunted, “I don’t want to be enemies either.”

  At the edge of the Zoo had been an exhibit of South American animals—it was a minimalized version of a rainforest with fat vines snaking up the trees and buildings, and fan-like leaves stretched like umbrellas overhead, blotting out the already gray sky. These branched off from a gigantic tree—monstrous in this empty world, but small compared to Syn’s tree that still stood in her world. At its base, a tunnel opened, serving as the entrance to this part of the Zoo.

  In the middle of the tunnel, hidden from view, a hole had been dug, and in the center was a metal hatch, flat against the ground. Kerwen moved the three deadbolts that anchored it tight. The third one gave her trouble, and she grunted until it clunked back and the pressure below the hatch escaped with a hiss. Kerwen tilted her head. “Help me with this. Bastard’s heavy.”

  The two heaved at the door together, lifting the great weight up slowly. The hinges weren’t stuck or rusted—the entire contraption appeared to have regular use—it was just huge and heavy.

  “Drop it,” Kerwen said as they raised it vertical. The two let go, and then the door fell wide open and slammed to the ground with a deafening clang. Syn jumped back, fearful her toes would be caught underneath.

  “Ha! Wish Ngozi had been that fast. She lost her little toe the first time she helped.”

  Syn picked up her spear and shifted her pack on her back. The weight in the backpack shifted, and the entire thing threatened to slide off her shoulder, so she pulled the straps tight against herself. “Who’s Ngozi?”

  “A Sister. When we first dug this thing and put the door in, there were more wild machines in those days, and they were barricading us in Zondon.” She kicked the door and leaned over, looking into the dark space below. “But we needed a way to get to the farms. So, Neci thought of this thing. Actually, I think Pigeon found the hatch below and figured we should dig down.”

  Syn looked into the hole, fearful of leaning too far and falling. She had looked upon the world from a great height as she descended the Jacobs, but something about the unknown depth of this grotesque hole stirred a vertigo in her. A set of bolted-together metal rungs in a makeshift ladder dropped into the hole. The sides weren’t dirt. Instead, they had bored into the metal of the ground itself and torn open the barriers between in great sheets. The rips in the metal were obvious, and the pieces were folded back to form a tunnel that fell into blackness. “How—how far down?”

  Kerwen turned on her flashlight and aimed it down. The light flooded the top of the hole but did little to illuminate the bottom—there was still no view of where the ladder ended. Kerwen said, “It’s far.”

  From behind them, Taji’s grumpy voice boomed. “Just get going. Who cares how deep it is?”

  Syn stepped back instinctively, putting as much distance as she could naturally between her and Taji.

  The girl hoisted a massive, stuffed backpack on her shoulders and had several knives strapped to her legs. She wore thick, black gloves and tall boots. A cord of rope, wound up, hung from her belt. The girl looked like she was going to war.

  “Are we just getting apples?” Syn asked.

  Taji planted a hand in Syn’s chest, pushing her backwards. “You’re getting apples. I have real work.” Without looking back, Taji dropped into the hole, grabbing hold of the railing as she plummeted, slowing her descent and slamming her feet against the metal rungs.

  “Well, I guess, after her,” Kerwen said, slinging her own pack across her back and stepping down into the hole, careful to grip both sides of the ladder. “Just keep going down and don’t think about it.”

  Syn looked around her. There was no one here. For a moment, a thought flashed, I could make a run for it. But where to? Ultimately, she was still on Olorun. She was still without Blip. These were still the only other humans on board. Perhaps she could bring them over to her side. Maybe. Maybe it would work out. Maybe all they need is to be safe. Syn grabbed the railing and followed after. I could provide that.

  The descent down dragged on for a long time. Step after step, Syn tried to count at first but soon lost count after a hundred and thirty. She glanced back up and was shocked to see that the gray sky from above was barely visible. If someone dropped the hatch closed, they would be trapped in an inky darkness. Perhaps Kerwen had her flashlight on and could see where they were going.

  “How much further?” Syn said.

  Kerwen’s answer came from much farther away than Syn anticipated. “Just keep climbing down.” She had thought Kerwen was only a few feet below her. Syn had been careful to step lightly to avoid stepping on Kerwen’s hands. Knowing the girl was further down rustled Syn’s anxiety, and she stepped faster, hoping to close the distance.

  The minutes stretched on, dragged apart by monotony and silence. The air was thick and pockets of smells greeted them as they descended: the acidic pall of passing fire, the rich, gagging freshness of old soil below, a light lilac bloom that wafted and disappeared far too quickly.

  From below, Kerwen’s flashlight splashed light against the edge of the stairs. Kerwen shouted, “I’ve touched down. You’re almost there.”

  Syn made the last few stairs and felt the thick, spongy dirt of the farm’s ground below her feet. No more climbing, at least until they had the apples. Syn searched around in the darkness. There were patches of light far away—Syn assumed they were from the lightstrips above the rows of vegetation and fruit. There was no sign of Taji. “Where’d she go?”

  Syn pointed the light at a second hatch a few meters away. “She’s going further down.”

  “How far?”

  “To the body farms.”

  Syn shuddered. She hated those.

  Kerwen raised an eyebrow. “You know of the body farms?”

  Syn nodded and then stuttered as she stretched a truth into a fabricated lie to cover her mistake. “I saw a video about them in the white room.”

  Kerwen nodded. “Ya. I hate them too. Only been there t
wice and have no desire to go down there again. Taji seems to be our body farm expert, so Neci sends her. She was one of the few that made it back from an earlier expedition, and she’s always made it back alive. Let’s get moving—we have a walk. Oh, turn on your torch.” Kerwen pointed at Syn’s flashlight.

  The trek to the apples felt longer than the descent down the metal ladder did. Kerwen’s refusal to talk only made it worse.

  “How much—” Syn started.

  Kerwen hushed with a sharp “Shhh!”

  “But—”

  “No. Seriously. There are so many ways down into the farms. Things are always rooting around here—the presence of food only makes it far more desirable. Just shut up so I can listen.”

  So they walked in silence. There would be no getting to know Kerwen better on this trip.

  The far-off light became several lights as they drew near. Some were the bright light of the miniature sunstrips that hung above the plants. Above them, several bays of light drooped—nearly close enough to touch. There was no light from them as the bays had all been shattered. Syn aimed her flashlight upwards to examine them.

  Kerwen muttered, “We think the passengers did that. Not sure why. Most of what they did doesn’t make sense.”

  “They went insane.”

  “Ya, or maybe they were always that way and getting far enough from Earth let them lose control. Taji thinks it was a disease, but if so, then why haven’t we been infected?”

  The lights ahead were inside windowed buildings that looked like greenhouses. They had been walking through what Syn was sure was a cornfield. There were broken stalks along the way. No ears of corn remained—whatever had survived had been picked clean from the field. Syn had always wondered what corn tasted like. Even on her Disc, the corn was all gone. None of those fields had survived. Most of the other crops had, but not corn, and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was too important, and so everyone had to get what they could before they lost their chance.