Seed

by Michael Edelson

  “Right,” he said to himself when the crowd had mostly dispersed. “Time to check out this barrier then.” Looking around, he realized that if it were a proper barrier it shouldn’t matter which direction he walked in—he would eventually find it. He decided that he would walk along the beach, towards the patch of forest to his right.

  As he walked, he noticed people in the complex watching him. A lot of them seemed to hover near their cabins, either standing in the open doorways or leaning on the walls just outside. Scared faces turned away as soon as he looked at them, only to stare at him again when they thought he wasn’t looking anymore. Most were alone, though some clustered together in small groups, talking quietly as nervous eyes shifted between each other, their surroundings and him.

  An idea occurred to him. Maybe the people who had put them in this place were watching them, like characters in a movie. He supposed they would expect him to get to know the other prisoners, identify the key players and learn their life stories, maybe stir up some drama. Unfortunately for these imaginary spectators, he couldn’t care less about getting to know any of his fellow inmates—well, not most of them, anyway. Used to life in the barracks, he had acquired the habit of ignoring people he didn’t need to notice. Perhaps it would be better for him to change that habit. He decided to do so—later. He had other things on his mind at the moment. For the time being, at least, most of these people were nothing more than scenery.

  The patch of jungle was not as dense as it had looked from a distance, and he was able to walk through it easily. The beach continued on the other side for about three or four hundred meters before disappearing behind more jungle. He rubbed his stomach as he walked, noticing a bit of indigestion. The nutrient powder didn’t seem to agree with him. Perhaps that was what Max had meant about being able to stomach it.

  The jungle that ran along the beach to his right was very thick, sometimes to the point where he would not be able to get through without a machete. His stomach began to bother him more and more, until finally he didn’t feel like walking anymore.

  “What the hell did they put in that crap!” he asked himself, his hand on his stomach. It was full blown nausea now, accompanied by the sinking realization that vomiting was becoming inevitable. He decided to look for the barrier later, turned around and started walking back toward his cabin to have a glass of water and lie down. The nausea turned out to be a passing phenomenon. It left him as quickly as it had come. His stomach was still a bit unsettled, but it wasn’t so bad that he needed to call off his search.

  “So much for that,” he said, turning around once more. He resumed his walk down the beach, but within moments the nausea returned. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned around, walking back quickly. Sure enough, the nausea passed.

  “Motherfucker!” he said excitedly. This was the barrier. He looked around, trying to spot its source, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Of course it made sense that whatever caused it would be well hidden. If they put it out in the open, he could just get one of the anti-tank rockets from the arms room and blow it to hell. But that wasn’t right either, because he would eventually find it, and they’d given him the means to destroy it—to destroy just about anything, really. Why would they do that? Unless—

  Suddenly, a disturbing thought occurred to him. What if the barrier wasn’t there to keep them in, but to keep something else out?

  It didn’t make sense that they were prisoners, because prisoners weren’t typically given enough firepower to take over a small country. And if they were not prisoners, then the barrier made more sense as a defensive fortification than a prison wall. But a fortification against what?

  “Fuck this,” he said angrily, and started to walk forward, into the field. “It’s going to take more than an upset stomach to keep me here.” The nausea grew worse, but he ignored it, determined to get to the other side. How big could this field be? If he managed to keep walking forward, no matter how uncomfortable he felt, he would eventually get across. Then he could get to the bottom of this, figure out what was going on and who was behind it. He thought about going back for a rifle, but decided against it. Wherever he emerged, a concealable weapon would probably be best.

  The nausea became almost unbearable, but he fought it as hard as he could. The army had taught him to force his body to go on when it was already far past its limits, and he used that ability to fight the effects of the barrier. About twenty meters past the first sign of nausea he couldn’t stand it anymore and hastily bent over so that his vomit would not spray all over his uniform. Moments later he was on his hands and knees, too weak to stand. It was worse than anything he had ever felt before. His stomach muscles contracted again and again as they struggled to expel their contents onto the orange sand, and after each spasm another wave of nausea hit him, then another, and another. Specks of blood sprayed into the frothy puddle of bile and partially digested nutrient paste.

  He knew he had to get out of there, but he couldn’t stand. He didn’t have the strength. Suddenly realizing he had made a terrible mistake trying this alone, he began to panic. He could die, and all he had to do was nothing.

  Summoning the last of his strength, he fell over backwards, rolled over onto his stomach and began to crawl. Each agonizing tug brought slight relief and gave him strength, until at last he was able to get up on his hands and knees, then finally to stand up and run.

  He collapsed when he made it to the patch of jungle that separated the beaches, panting, enjoying the sudden relief from the crippling nausea. Aside from the taste of vomit in his mouth, a slight burning in his throat and a mildly sore stomach, it was almost as though it had never happened. He was exhausted from his struggle though, and that was a feeling that would not dissipate as readily as the nausea. Adjusting his position on the warm sand, he closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. That barrier might as well be a titanium wall a hundred feet tall and fifty feet thick. There was no way through.

  Chapter 5

  It was dark by the time he woke up. His mouth was sore and he had a headache, almost like a hangover. Whatever the barrier did, it affected more than just his digestive system. In the distance he heard the crackling of a fire, and when he sat up and looked around he saw waves of orange light crawling along the tree trunks.

  He spotted the bonfire almost immediately, down by the beach on the village side of the jungle patch. Patting the butt of the pistol to make sure it was still there, he got to his feet and walked towards the light. A large group of people were gathered within the fire’s ambiance, listening to someone talk. As he got closer, he saw that it was Max—big surprise there. Alex had known people like Max, they liked to be in charge, or more accurately, they believed they should be in charge by account of some god given virtue. That type usually made the worst officers. Campbell was the opposite, he didn’t think it was right that a guy with no experience be put in charge of a platoon, but he did the best he could and didn’t let Medlock push him around. The men respected him, and so did Alex. Thinking about those two almost made him miss being back at Ft. Irwin. Almost.

  “Alex,” Max said, spotting him. “We were wondering where you were.” He turned back to the others momentarily and said, “I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Please spread the word.”

  “Max,” Alex said, nodding a lazy greeting. “I saw your barrier. Nice. Thanks for the heads up.” He looked for Yael among those gathered, but didn’t see her. As he got near the fire and felt it’s warmth, he realized it was actually cold out, probably in the mid sixties, though a strong breeze from the ocean made it feel colder. The wind carried a salty tang that he enjoyed. It helped clear the foul taste from his mouth.

  “Yes,” Max agreed, missing or ignoring the sarcasm. “It is quite formidable. Alex, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He ushered a blond woman towards him. She was older, in her late twenties or early thirties, but still very attractive and youthful in appearance. The only thing that gave away h
er age were faint lines around her eyes and on her neck. Her hair, blond to the roots, was tied back in a pony tail whose floating ends glowed like bulb filaments against the fire’s light.

  “This is Barbara,” Max continued. “She’s a doctor. A trauma surgeon, to be exact.”

  “Hi,” Alex said, trying not to stare. Instead, he turned to look at the others, who were standing in clumps and talking, almost casually. Were they having a beach party?

  “Alex is our soldier,” Max said. “Or perhaps sheriff, since he’s the only one that can get to the weapons.”

  “Another cog in the machine, eh?” Barbara asked rhetorically. Her voice was pleasant, high pitched yet smooth. “If only we knew what the darn thing did. Nice to meet you, Alex.”

  “Me too,” he said, then realized his reply didn’t make sense. If Barbara noticed, she didn’t acknowledge his verbal clumsiness in any way he could see.

  “So, Max,” he said, eager to get past his blunder. “Did you get any more of your doors open?”

  “Indeed,” Max said, his eyes lighting up. “I discovered that I can open them all, from the terminal in my cottage.”

  “Really?” Alex said, a bit alarmed at the thought of Max getting into the arms room. He had no idea why he should react this way, but he had, for some reason, come to think of it as his arms room, and no one else had any business messing around with his stuff. Strange, yet there it was.

  “Well,” Max admitted. “Every door except yours.”

  “Oh,” Alex said, hiding his relief. “That’s odd.”

  “Yes it is, but it’s just another indication that you’re someone important.”

  “Important?” Alex found it hard to pay attention to Max, mostly because he was still groggy from his impromptu nap, but also because he wanted to stare at Barbara’s cleavage through her low cut shirt. Fort Irwin was not exactly a target rich environment when it came to dating, and being suddenly surrounded by so many attractive women was not easy to adjust to.

  “Max believes that whoever brought us here intended us to fill certain roles,” Barbara said. “Not only do some of us have very specialized skills, but we were provided with the tools of our trade.”

  “So it’s like we’re some kind of colony,” Alex suggested. “Each member chosen to fill a niche.”

  “Yes,” Max agreed. “That is what I believe.”

  “Okay, so I’m the soldier, Barbara is the doctor, what are you?”

  “I believe I’m supposed to be the mayor, or governor or whatever you want to call it,” Max said matter-of-factly. Alex almost sneered—he had called that one correctly.

  “What makes you think so?” he asked, trying not to sound antagonistic.

  “Well,” Max began, not in the least bit displeased by the question. “For starters, I am a law professor at a major university as well as a former superior court judge, which I believe is why they chose me. But that aside, my cottage is twice the size of the others and—”

  “Really?” Alex interrupted. “Twice?” For some reason that both interested and bothered him. It didn’t seem fair, which was an odd reaction for a person in his situation. He should be thinking of how to escape, not how big his cabin was.

  “Yes,” Max said. “Twice, or roughly so. And I’m the only one with a terminal with universal access to every pad in the colony.”

  “Except mine,” Alex said, narrowing his eyes slightly. The more of this he heard, the less he liked it.

  “Except yours,” Max agreed. “I can’t even open your cabin door, let alone the arms room.” Alex hadn’t realized he had included cabin doors when he said every pad in the colony. This scared him, despite the fact that his privacy was apparently secure. What else did that terminal do? Were there cameras in the cabins? He thought about asking, but decided against it. Better to do some investigating later on.

  “So maybe I’m the governor,” Alex said, finally failing to hide his contentiousness. “Sword mightier than the pen and all that.”

  Max smiled patiently, which pissed Alex off even more. “It’s a theory, but I don’t think so. For one, if you were supposed to be in charge, you would have the terminal, not I.”

  “Maybe you’re my secretary.”

  Now he saw a slight strain in Max’s friendly façade.

  “Then why the bigger house?”

  “Boys!” Barbara cut in, chuckling. “We can whip them out later. I agree with Max, assuming the theory holds water. We’re not sure that it does yet, let’s not forget that.”

  “Right,” Max said. “Of course.”

  “I guess I do too,” Alex grudgingly admitted, not wanting to cause any more trouble. He had no desire to be in charge himself, and he knew that the less he argued the faster he could excuse himself. He didn’t like Max and saw no reason to be around him any more than he had to.

  “I’m pleased to hear that, Alex,” Max said. “I’ve called for a meeting tomorrow afternoon. To get everyone together, talk about our situation, maybe figure out what’s going on and how to get out of here.”

  “So everyone is out now?” Alex asked. “The ones that were sleeping?”

  “Yes,” Max said. “Every one. The last one came out about an hour ago. You can meet him if you want, he is a scientist, a biochemist, though I’ll be darned if I know why we need one.”

  “Maybe later,” Alex said. “I’m gonna take off, go for a walk. Barbara, it was a pleasure to meet you. See you guys later.”

  “Later,” Barbara said, smiling warmly. Her he liked.

  “We’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow?” Max called after him as he turned to walk away. “At around midday?”

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “I think I can clear my schedule.” He walked towards the water, leaving the murmur of voices behind him. The rhythmic rushing of the ocean lapping the sand was a much more pleasing melody.

  He waited a few minutes before letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, then started to move towards the cliff, scanning the beach as he walked. The night was strangely familiar, almost completely devoid of the signs of civilization he had once been accustomed to. Besides the glow of the fire and the distant ship lights on the horizon, it was not unlike night in the Mojave desert—

  Ship lights? His head snapped in the direction of the ocean as he peered into the darkness. Sure enough, there were lights from at least three vessels. Relief and disappointment flooded through him, and the source of each was the same. Wherever they were, it was nothing fantastical or extraordinary, just a tropical coast or island in some remote part of the world. His heart began to thump loudly and he realized with some surprise that he was afraid. He liked it here. Or at least part of him did, and now, having seen the ships, he realized that whatever this was, it would not last. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he did know that he had been in a better place a few seconds ago, before he noticed those damned lights.

  He thought about not saying anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. These people were not like him, what waited for them at home was more than being stuck in some god forsaken dust bowl with gang bangers, hillbillies and sociopaths. He thought of Yael, and what she had said about her family.

  “What the fuck was I thinking?” he asked himself, shaking his head. He turned back to the gathering and shouted, “Max! Get over here! I see lights!”

  Within seconds, the entire campfire brigade was charging towards him, shouting excitedly. He realized he should have handled that more discretely, but what was done, was done.

  “Where?” Max demanded, breathing heavily from the brief run. Medlock would have loved to get his hands on him. He’d run him across the entire desert until he lost half his body weight in sweat.

  “Give it a sec,” Alex said. “Give your eyes time to adjust, then look where I’m pointing.”

  A little while later, a chorus of affirmations declared that people’s night vision was finally up to the task.

  “We need some way to try to contact them,” a young man with sha
ggy hair shouted. “Does anyone have a radio?”

  Alex rolled his eyes, and then smiled, realizing that’s exactly what Yael would have done.

  “The campfire!” someone else said excitedly. “We can make it bigger! Maybe spell out ‘help’ or ‘SOS’ or something!” Alex turned to the speaker and saw a pretty girl about his own age, another blond, but this one with a round face and dimples.

  Others agreed, then a murmur broke out as they tried to decide what to do.

  “Wait here,” Alex said to Max. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get something.”

  He ran towards the warehouse and wondered how he would find it until he saw that each cabin had a light mounted near the roof, illuminating his path. He found the warehouse quickly and made his way inside.

  The arms room “airlock” worked exactly as before. Once inside, he grabbed one of the NVD boxes and then looked around, searching for flashlights. He spotted a rack of high end combat lights and took one out. Pointing it at a dark corner, he hit the rubber button on the tail cap and was impressed by the intensity of the beam it projected.

  “This will do!” he said, taking two more and tucking them into the cargo pockets of his ACU pants. It was uncomfortable, the flashlights dug into his thighs, but it would only be for a little while.

  When he was half way down the corridor he realized he had forgotten to lock the outer arms room door, but as he turned back it hissed closed and the LED turned red.

  “That’s convenient,” he said, then resumed a brisk run back. A few people startled as he ran past them.