She pushed away and looked up at him with bloodshot eyes that still managed to look beautiful.
“Do you mean that?” she asked softly.
“I do.”
“Why would you say that? I mean…I know you said all of us, but you said it to me. Why? We hardly know each other, and I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.” Her expression was almost pleading. She was pushing at the foundations of his promise, testing its strength.
He shrugged. “It’s the kind of thing I do, I guess. Plus, you’re not so bad. I kinda like you. You know…as a person I mean.” He grinned at her.
She started to say something, then broke free of his embrace and began to smooth her t-shirt, though it wasn’t wrinkled.
“Well thank you,” she said in her normal voice. “For the promise, I mean. But I won’t hold you to it. It’s too much to ask from someone I hardly know.” Once she was done with her shirt, she started to rub her eyes, making them even redder than before.
He’d said too much, and she was retreating.
“Anyway,” he said, hoping to change the subject before she managed to pull even further away. “You have to eat something. Does that wacky religion of yours have a provision for situations in which no kosher food is available?”
“Of course it does!” she said. “Survival is more important, but I’m not dying. And it’s not wacky, your religion is based on it. Jesus was a Jew, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“My religion?”
“Aren’t you a Christian? I just thought…”
He enjoyed seeing her confused. “Nope. I don’t believe in religion, but I do think there’s something out there. Especially when bad shit happens to me. There are no atheists in the trenches, or so they say.”
“Oh,” she said, frowning. “Sorry. Anyway, it’s not wacky. And please don’t start a debate about religion, I’m not interested.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “But we have more important matters to think about right now, like getting some food in you.”
She sighed. “I am very hungry.”
“Good. Let’s get you some nutrient paste.”
“No,” she said sternly. “I won’t eat it until I know what’s in it, or until I’m dying of hunger.”
He nodded. “Stubborn. I like that. How about beef? Is beef kosher?”
“Only if it’s killed a certain way.”
“Jesus Christ!” This was harder than he thought, but then that should not have surprised him. If there were a simple solution, she would have found it.
“That wouldn’t do it,” she said with a crooked smile. “Wrong religion.”
He laughed. “You actually made a joke! That’s awesome. But I see this isn’t going to be easy. How do you eat back in the world? Must be a bitch to go grocery shopping.”
“No, it’s not hard at all. Normally we know food is kosher if it has a kosher mark on it, which means a rabbi examined it, or the way it was killed or whatever, but a rabbi doesn’t need to be involved if something is obviously kosher, like fruits and vegetables.”
“Fruits, good. We’re in the tropics, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Have you looked?”
“Of course I looked. There are some coconuts, but they’re on the other side of the barrier.”
“Okay, at least we’re getting somewhere. What about fish? Can you eat fish? Crabs?”
“Fish yes, crabs no.”
He nodded. “Fish then. Has anyone found fishing poles yet?”
She shrugged. “Not that I know of, or I would be using one.”
“Okay then,” he said excitedly as an idea dawned. “Let’s go to the warehouse.”
“What for?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously, but when he started walking, she followed.
“Several things,” he explained, then turned to the dog and shouted, “Come on, mutt!” The little animal looked up, saw them leaving and ran after them, yipping excitedly.
“You were saying?” Yael asked.
“Right. First, we’re going to see if there’s an ingredient list in the nutrient powder storage room. Maybe it’s on the barrels. If it’s all kosher stuff, you can eat it, right? Without a kosher mark or anything like that?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m not a fascist about it.”
“Good! Who knows? Maybe it’ll be okay.”
“What else?” she asked.
“We’re also going to see if there is any kosher meat in the dehydrated storage, and we’ll see if there are fishing poles.”
“I was there this morning,” she said. “I got a piece of beef for the dog. I didn’t see any kosher marks on anything, but most of the rooms were locked and I couldn’t find anyone to open them.” She sounded doubtful, but he saw hope in her eyes.
“No harm in looking again,” he said. “Besides, I’m sure we’ll find fishing poles. If the people that dumped us here gave us anti-tank rockets, why not fishing poles?”
“Anti tank rockets?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“You don’t know about the arms room? I’ll explain on the way. But yeah, with all the stuff they gave me, there should be fishing poles.”
“Sounds reasonable. But how will we get into the locked rooms?”
“Easy. Either Max opens them for us, or I open them with breaching charges.” He smiled.
“If you say so.”
He stopped, reached out and touched her arm, right below the shoulder.
“Yael,” he said. “We’ll get you something to eat. Even if I have to go fishing with hand grenades like some crazy Russian, okay?”
She nodded, and almost looked like she would cry again. She pulled away, but not until several seconds had passed.
“Come on!” he said. “Let’s go. We have work to do.” The dog yipped its acknowledgement, and they continued to the warehouse.
There was a man there, about Alex’s age, though a bit shorter, wider and more muscular.
“Hey,” Alex said. “I’m Alex, this is Yael.”
“Bob,” the man said. He had a big round head that terminated in a narrow chin that looked out of place. His short brown hair was the same color as his eyes, but his brows had a hint of red to them, as though they had previously been dyed. After three years of military service, Alex had gotten good at judging people by their faces, and he knew instantly that he wasn’t going to like Bob.
“What are you doing standing around?” Alex asked. “It almost looks like you’re guarding the place.”
“I am,” he said with no trace of humor.
“Really?” Alex asked, bewildered. “I was just joking. How did Max con you into doing that?”
“No one conned me into anything,” Bob said, giving Alex a disapproving look. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here, and we all need to pitch in to make this work. My job is to keep people from taking too much food, and to make sure people put back what they borrow.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Alex said. “How much is too much? I’m talking about the dehydrated meat.”
“One person, one item every two days.”
Alex nodded. “That’s not bad, I would have gone with half that. Okay then, we’re going to get two items, since we’re two people.”
The man nodded. “You can, she can’t. She already took something earlier today.”
“That was for the dog,” Alex explained. He knew rationing was important, but this was getting on his nerves. Right or not, he felt like the rules did not apply to him. It wasn’t fair, and he was aware of that, but the way he saw it, he could easily take over the colony and kill anyone who stood in his way if he wanted to. He didn’t have the slightest desire to do so, but he figured he was owed a little leeway nonetheless.
“It doesn’t matter what she did with it, she took one. She can come back tomorrow.”
“Alex,” Yael said. “He’s right, I did take it, so…”
“Look, Bob,” Alex said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “She can only eat kosher food, and she hasn’t eaten anything since she got her
e. We’re going to go in there, and look for some kosher stuff. Is that okay with you?”
He nodded. “She can go in, of course. She just can’t take any more of the meat, kosher or not.”
Alex took a step forward. “If we find kosher meat, she’s going to take it.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that.”
Alex was about to say something, then shook his head and laughed. “Right, sure.” He turned to Yael. “Come on, let’s go.” He started forward, but Bob put a firm hand on his left shoulder. The dog growled. Alex acted without thinking.
He grabbed Bob’s wrist with his left hand and struck him in the shoulder joint with the blade of his right. Bob flinched, raising his hands to ward off the strike, but Alex had moved too fast and without warning. Pushing hard into Bob’s shoulder, Alex pulled up on his arm, twisting his spine slightly and forcing him off balance. Thus weakened, he wasn’t able to resist the torquing of the hips that sent him sailing over Alex’s leg.
The dog started to bark and ran at Bob.
“Alex!” Yael shouted. “No!”
Bob went down hard and rolled away. The dog continued to bark, coming closer, but stayed just out of reach, afraid to get too close.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said calmly. “You grabbed me and I just reacted.” He didn’t like acting like a thug, but it had felt good to toss Bob on his ass.
The big man was panting heavily, his eyes shifting between Alex and the barking dog.
“Shut up, mutt!” Alex commanded, and the dog obeyed, though it couldn’t entirely contain its ire and growled.
“We can chalk this up to a friendly misunderstanding,” Alex continued. “I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind if Yael took some food for herself. Hell, there might not even be any kosher meat in there, probably isn’t, in fact. We didn’t know about the dog, that it would count, and we’ll feed it nutrient paste from now on, okay?”
Bob seemed confused, but he nodded. Alex walked up to him and offered him his hand. Bob took it and allowed Alex to pull him to his feet.
“Sorry,” Alex said again. “We’ll go in now, okay?”
“Yeah,” Bob said in a shaky voice. “Go ahead.”
Alex smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”
He turned around and put a hand under Yael’s elbow, moving her forward. She was staring at him with a mixture of wonder and horror, but she allowed him to usher her inside.
Chapter 8
“I’m an idiot,” he said, as soon as he closed the doors behind him and realized he had missed the obvious.
“Huh?” she asked, still staring at him.
“I should have just told him I’d give you mine.” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked. “The army?”
“What, the throw?”
She nodded. The dog circled a few times near the door, then lay down and closed its eyes with a satisfied sigh.
“No. They teach it, but they don’t have time to go into enough depth. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My dad thought it was important. I can teach you, if you want. It’s not hard, just a few basic principles.”
She brightened. “Really? You think I can throw someone like that?”
“Sure, one of Britain’s top jujitsu masters in the 1920s or 30s was a woman smaller than you.”
“I’d love to be able to do that, but…”
Looking down the length of the hall, he noticed that all the door LEDs were green, except of course for the arms room.
“Look,” he said. “All the doors are unlocked. Looks like I don’t have to blow them after all.” He made his way to the nutrient paste storage room and pushed the pad. The door slid open as before.
“That’s fancy,” Yael commented. “You’d think we were on the Enterprise.”
“That’s what I thought too. Pretty cool, right?”
They couldn’t enter the room as it was stacked floor to ceiling with powder canisters, so Alex pulled one out and set it down on the floor. It was very heavy. He let it rest on its edge as he spun it around to check for markings.
The first thing he noticed was a logo: the letter F, in a circle. The name “Fonseca” was written next to it.
“Looks familiar,” Alex said, then realized it was the same logo he had seen on the laundry enzyme in his cabin.
“It’s a biotech firm,” Yael said. “They make GMO corn and stuff. That’s not a good sign.”
“GMO food isn’t kosher?”
She shrugged. “Depends who you ask, I guess. The big certification groups say no. There were some articles on it recently. That’s how I know the company.”
Alex frowned. “Are GMOs the only shit Fonseca makes?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Good! Let’s judge it based on the ingredients then. You can’t just assume it’s not kosher because it’s made by a company that also makes GMOs, right?”
“I suppose,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Alex turned his attention back to the canister. A little past the brand name was a list of ingredients.
“What the hell is Pantothenic Acid?” he asked. “Or Pyridoxine?”
“I’m pretty sure those are vitamins,” she said, kneeling down next to him. Her knee brushed his left thigh and he felt a tingle of excitement. “I’m more concerned with calcium propionate. I think that’s a preservative.”
“What’s wrong with preservatives?”
Yael frowned. “Most aren’t kosher.”
“Balls,” Alex swore. “It’s gotta have preservatives. But…” He noticed something on the base of the canister. “Well I’ll be damned!”
“What is it?” she asked, then saw the word “KOSHER” printed on the canister. “Oh. That’s…that’s too convenient.”
“I kinda know what you mean,” he said. “But isn’t your obligation fulfilled? How is this any different than buying kosher food at the supermarket?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s just that I’d feel better if there was some way to confirm it, you know? Considering where we are…it would be easier to just print the word kosher than to actually make it kosher.”
“I have an idea,” he said excitedly. “We can ask Tom!”
“Tom? Who’s Tom?”
“He’s the scientist Max was babbling about. A biochemist. He’ll know what the ingredients are.”
She brightened. “That would be perfect. If he can’t say that it’s not kosher, I’ll be happy to eat it.”
“Good! Let’s write this stuff down and find him.”
She tilted her head slightly and frowned. “Write?”
“Yeah…oh. No pen. Well, let’s check the other rooms.”
Walking down the hall, they checked each room in turn. There was an amazing assortment of supplies, though he was in no mood to pay too much attention. He noticed tools, farming implements, what looked like spare parts—though he wasn’t sure for what—and more. They checked the dehydrated meat storage, but there was nothing there marked kosher. The room just before the arms room on the right looked like a miniature hospital, and the one across held a huge assortment of nets, poles and other fishing implements.
“Bingo,” he said before the door slid all the way open.
Yael gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Alex!”
“One way or another,” he said happily. “You get to eat today.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, her eyes tearing up once more. “You’ve been so supportive...”
“My pleasure.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this for me, but I’m grateful. I want you to know that.”
He was about to tell her why, but he saw where that conversation would go. She wouldn’t brush it off, not in the mood she was in, but she was likely to use her religion as an excuse to shoot him down. He wasn’t sure if Tom was right about that, but he didn’t want to take the chance. This would be a conversation they would have
eventually, assuming she was interested in him in that way, but now was not the time for it.
“Think nothing of it, what are friends for, right?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Hang out here a bit,” he said. “I’ll go look in the arms room, maybe they left me a pen there. If not, I’ll get a bullet. You can actually write on dark surfaces with a bullet, the copper jacket rubs off.”
“Good to know,” she said, smiling. “Why can’t I come with you?”
“There’s an inner door, and it works like an airlock. No one but me can be in the corridor.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait here, maybe pick out a pole.”
Seconds later, he was standing in the arms room, once again awestruck at the destructive potential of the equipment they had given him. There was so much that he hadn’t noticed before, a lot more than just weapons. Fatigues, boots, explosives, even a workbench with tools next to a full length mirror in which he could check his gear.
A desk with a computer monitor caught his eye before he could process most of what he was looking at. There was a leather chair, identical to the one in his cabin, and he pulled it from under the desk and sat down. He wiggled the mouse and the monitor came to life. Like the laptop in his cabin, it had a Microsoft operating system, though besides the host of useless standard applications, the only thing on this particular machine was a database—presumably for keeping track of the arms room inventory—and some sort of communications program called “NTCN.” At least he assumed it was a communications program by its satellite dish icon.
He double clicked it and a black window came up, like a command prompt, only without the usual DOS garbage. There was a blinking cursor. After a second, a password prompt appeared.
He stared at it, wondering why his captors would be so annoying as to put an application on his computer that needed a password he couldn’t possibly know.
“Bastards,” he mumbled and closed the window. Following a sudden flash of inspiration, he immediately opened it again.
As soon as the password prompt came back, he reached into his pocket and produced the piece of paper he had found in the locker under his bed. He typed the string written on it, “peace7102,” then hit the Enter key.
Seed Page 7
