Seed

by Michael Edelson

  Confused chatter blared through the radio as the others tried to make sense of Max’s broadcast. “Four minutes,” Max said, looking at Alex’s laptop to monitor the time. “You have my word none of you will be harmed as long as you surrender. I have men armed with rifles hidden throughout the colony, and after our hostages are executed, they will hunt you down like animals. You are good at playing soldier with your leader around, but without him you are a hopeless band of misfits, and you’d better wake up to that fact before someone gets hurt.”

  “Alex,” Yael said. “I’m so sorry…they were waiting inside my cabin when I got there, I tried to fight them, but…” He suddenly noticed her split lip, and the dried crusty blood on her chin.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s—”

  “Shut up,” Max barked. “Or I’ll have Robert break her jaw.”

  So much for promises.

  “How do we know they’re still alive?” a voice crackled through the radio. It was Tom.

  “You’re at my terminal,” Max said. “Do you have access to the interior cameras?”

  “No.”

  “My password is terranova202,” Max said, and waited.

  “I’m in,” Tom said.

  “Access the camera for unit 2.” So there were interior cameras, even in his cabin!

  Bob walked up to him and knelt down so that his face was next to Alex’s. With a look back to make sure Max was distracted, he whispered, “I watched you, fucking her. We all did. Can you guess what we did?” He made a rude gesture implying masturbation. “She’s a dirty little whore for a stuck up Jew bitch, isn’t she?”

  Alex didn’t react, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. If it were not for the fact that Bob would take it out on Yael, he would have torn off his face with his teeth. Not too long ago the thought of such savagery would have shocked him, but now he hungered for it.

  “I see you,” Tom said. “How do we know you’ll keep your promise? That you won’t kill us, and them, as soon as we surrender?”

  “I gave you my word,” Max said. “I’m many things, but I am not a liar. Besides, there aren’t many of us, and we can’t afford to murder needlessly. I’ll also grant you amnesty, Tom. You will not be punished for trying to break into my terminal.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Tom said.

  “Then watch them die. Robert, cut Yael’s throat.”

  “With pleasure!” Bob said, and started towards her.

  Alex lurched forward, straining against his bonds. “No!”

  “Wait!” Tom shouted through the radio. “Don’t! We’ll surrender! We’ll trust you!”

  “Stand down, Robert,” Max said. The big man stopped with obvious displeasure.

  Long, agonizing minutes passed until Alex heard sounds from outside. The others had arrived, and they were laying down their weapons. It was over.

  *

  They had chosen a different location to place the pole, closer to the warehouse on the jungle side of the colony’s perimeter. Alex was unfamiliar with the area, but he could guess how far into the barrier the pole was—right in the middle.

  Bob led him with a callous hand on his arm as the crowd looked on. It was as big a gathering as the one that watched the presidential address. The many faces stared solemnly at him as he walked past. He was surprised to see that some were crying. Why any of them would shed tears for him, he had no idea. None of his people were there. Max had confined them to their rooms, exactly as Alex had confined him just a few hours before. Max had kept his word, at least so far, and none of them had been harmed.

  “I tried,” Max said to the crowd as Bob cut the zip tie holding Alex’s hands together. “To lead you towards a greater good, to make sure that we would survive, that the devastation that befell the rest of the world would never find us here.”

  Alex thought about grabbing Bob’s weapon, but Kristoff and Reynard were a few feet away, pointing rifles at him. His rifles.

  “I tried to ration our supplies so that they would serve us as long as possible, to keep a selfish few from taking for themselves what rightfully belongs to all of us. I tried to make sure everyone worked, everyone contributed, so that we would thrive as a colony.”

  Bob pulled another zip tie from his pocket and secured Alex’s hands behind the pole, then kicked him in the side of the knee so that he collapsed. There was pain, but it was distant, beyond his concern. All he could think about was leaving Yael and his friends in the hands of these animals.

  “Yet this man, Alex Meyer, thought himself above such concerns, and conspired to interfere with my efforts. When that proved insufficient to satisfy his anarchistic nature, he abused the trust placed in him by those who put us here, who saved us from the Chinese attack, and attempted to oust me, this colony’s legitimate governor, by force.”

  Bob and the others backed away, leaving him alone in the barrier’s kill zone.

  “Take a good look. This is what happens to traitors. And with Alex out of the way…” He motioned to his men, all of whom were now armed with M4 carbines. Jonathan and Rich were hunched over under the weight of their ill fitting body armor. Bob wore Alex’s chest rig and had to leave it unfastened. Correct sizing of load bearing gear was critical for its function, and Alex took some small pleasure in knowing that these pigs were stuck with the wrong gear. If Max had lied about being able to communicate with the government, then perhaps he would never be able to get into the arms room.

  “I will finally be able to run this colony in the manner it needs to be run. This is a survival situation, not a tropical resort, and it’s about time you people learned that the hard way.” He glared at the crowd, as though daring someone to speak out so that he could make an example out of them. No one did. Satisfied, he turned to Alex.

  “Mr. Meyer,” Max announced. “You have been found guilty of treason against the government of the United States. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “Someone,” Alex growled. “Anyone, please slit this pig’s throat before he turns you all into slaves.”

  Max smiled at him. “Fitting last words for a rabid dog that is about to be put down.” He raised the radio. “Prepare to activate the barrier.”

  “Ready,” Rich’s muffled voice echoed across the emptiness between Max and Alex, emptiness that wasn’t going to remain so for much longer. Alex braced himself.

  “Activate.”

  Chapter 29

  Pain.

  Blinding, unbearable pain. It hit him like a derailing bullet train, so sudden and brutal that there was no way to prepare. His gut clenched as its contents sprayed from his mouth, his stomach heaving, desperate to expel every last drop.

  His vision blurred, his ears rang. There was no light, no darkness, except the flashes that accompanied each spasm, each wave of agony. Devoid of its contents, his stomach clenched down harder, as though trying to push out his intestines. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, of the gasps of horror from the crowd. Time passed, the crowd grew smaller, the pain got worse.

  He fought it, harder than he had ever fought anything. Part of him screamed to let go, as though that could make a difference. He would die when he died. Life, it was all he had, all he was. He couldn’t let it go. His pain was a constant companion now, and the only relief would be death, and yet he fought.

  They were all gone now, except one. Short, chubby, holding a weapon he didn’t know how to use. Jonathan. How great did he think Max was now? Or perhaps this act of brutality had elevated the governor in the kid’s eyes. How was Alex to know? All he knew was agony.

  Time lost all meaning. A minute, an hour, did it matter? There was no relief, no subsiding, just constant and unyielding anguish. He should be dead, but he wasn’t. It couldn’t be long now, but the end would never come. There was only this moment, and the moment was as unceasing as the pain that defined it.

  Yet, despite his conviction that he would endure eternal damnation, there was change. The spasms became
worse, more frequent. The pain steadily increased, but it was growing distant. His body had suffered too much and was shutting down. He forced his eyes open, forced himself to see the world one last time before he died. His vision cleared, little by little, until he could just make out Jonathan’s face. And something else. Someone else.

  Yael.

  Of course it couldn’t be her, she was locked in her cabin, but it didn’t matter. Maybe she was an angel, sent down from a heaven he didn’t believe in to deliver him from his suffering. Or more likely a vision, conjured by a mind desperate for solace. It worked, at least a little. The sight of her calmed him, soothed him, and though the intensity of the pain did not change, it grew even more distant.

  He managed to twist his bloody lips into a smile as he watched her. She was moving strangely, like a stalking cat, walking up behind Jonathan. She pounced, and he remembered the little dog and how it played with Yael’s shoes. It would take one and bring it to its bed, a pile of dirty laundry she had set aside for it. It would growl, shaking its head, then toss the shoe aside, only to skulk towards it and pounce once more. He wasn’t sure if he was watching Yael smashing Jonathan’s head with a rock, or if he was watching the dog bite down on a shoe—

  Suddenly his mind cleared, and he screamed, for the pain became too real, too close. He saw Jonathan collapse, saw Yael reach down and take his knife and pistol. How was this possible? How had she gotten out of her cabin?

  She started toward him, and he tried to reach out to her, though his bonds held firm. When she flinched and momentarily stepped back, he realized what she was doing. She was going into the barrier.

  He wanted to scream, to tell her to stop, but he didn’t have the strength. A sound came out, but it was a bestial shriek, unintelligible.

  She vomited, more than once, but she kept coming. Halfway through, she collapsed to her knees, unable to continue. He saw her tears, saw her face contorting, and the pain he felt was no longer his own. It was hers, and it burned twice as much as before.

  After hesitating for a moment, she pushed on, slowly, steadily. She still held the knife, and she used it like a mountain climber would use a spike, stabbing into the dirt, pulling herself along. Each movement forward was shorter than the last one. Her hair hung before her face like a soiled curtain, flecked with bits of vomit and soaked with sweat. He could see her body tremble, her arms shake, and yet she pressed on.

  Almost, she made it, but just before she reached him she collapsed and lay still.

  “Yael,” he tried to say, but only a gurgle came out. “Go back.” More gurgles. “Please.”

  She rose, and with one last burst of strength she collapsed on his lap and reached behind him with her knife hand. Desperately she searched for the zip tie and found it, jamming the knife blade between it and the pole. He felt her body tighten as she rolled aside, still holding onto the knife, and the zip tie burst.

  He was free.

  Free, but too weak to move. How long he had been in the barrier, he couldn’t tell. Too long, that was for sure. He could hardly turn his head to look at her. She had given her life for him, but it was only a gesture.

  They would both die in the barrier.

  “Get up Alex,” his father said, kneeling by his side. “Wake up son. Time for school.” A memory, and though it had not always been a fond one, it was so now.

  “Move your ass soldier!” Sergeant Medlock shouted, towering over him imperiously. More recent, and less pleasant, but Alex smiled nonetheless. Medlock had tried to do right by his men in the only way he knew how, and Alex was grateful.

  “Come on, man,” Lieutenant Campbell said. “Medlock will see you slacking off.” The voice of a friend, helping him along as he always had, and yet he had no strength with which to respond. Why did Yael have to do this? He had given up everything so that she could live, and now…

  “Why?” he tried to say, and this time, it did come out.

  “I…” Yael whispered softly, without moving her head. “Love…you.” He felt her body tense, once more overcome with spasms. She did not have his tolerance, and she would not survive much longer. He had killed her.

  “Sometimes,” his mother said. “When no one else believes in you, you have to believe in yourself.” It was the night of his high school prom, when his girlfriend had dumped him for a popular jock. “You’re special, Alex, and I don’t care if no one else sees it, because I see it. You will do something great one day. I know you will.”

  “You’re going to die here,” Bob said, leering. “You and your whore.”

  “Get up!” a voice shouted, though he was too far gone to make out who it was. Maybe he was talking to himself.

  “I can’t!” he cried. “I don’t have the strength!”

  “Yes you do! Fight it!” Was it a woman’s voice? Was it her voice?

  Alex grabbed the pole. He had no strength, and yet his arm moved.

  “You can beat it! I know you can!”

  He spun around, onto his knees, and stood. His body was frail and weak, and yet his legs carried his weight.

  Reaching down, he grabbed Yael and heaved, slinging her over his shoulder. His legs were rubber, his arms were limp ropes, and yet they held, and they moved, driven by discipline, by hatred, by desperation and by love.

  He willed one foot in front of the other, and it moved. Yael was too heavy, and he started to fall, but he pushed her body forward and kicked his foot out to catch himself. And it moved. It held, but he was still falling, so he did it again, and again. Each step brought some relief, and some more strength, and he realized that he was running.

  Just like that, he was out. He set Yael down and dropped to his knees, panting. His stomach still burned, but it was the ache of cramping muscles, free of the effects of the barrier. She stirred, coughing. They both reeked of vomit. Their clothes were covered in it. Alex’s shirt was flecked with blood, but there was less than he thought there would be.

  He looked over at where Jonathan lay. She had hit him hard. His lifeless eyes were cloudy, staring up into the burning orb of the sun. The back of his head was a mess of blood and matted hair. Alex looked for his rifle, but didn’t see it. He must have put it away at some point. The pistol Yael had taken was still by the pole, in the middle of the barrier.

  “Alex,” Yael gasped, climbing to her feet. “You have to go.”

  “I know,” he said, helping her up. “Yael, what you did…” Yet another boundary crossed.

  “No time,” she said, shaking her head. “Go!”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll go back to my cabin, it’s not far. Go now!”

  “No, I can’t just leave you!”

  “Alex!” she barked. “Go or we’ll both be killed! I can’t follow you into the arms room, and it’s the first place they’re going to go.” As if to validate her point, someone shouted in the distance. They had been spotted, and word would spread.

  He turned and ran to the warehouse, sparing a long look back. She was moving slowly, limping, in the opposite direction. Within seconds she disappeared behind a corner and he was alone.

  There was no one at the warehouse, at least not outside. Alex approached cautiously, then pulled one of the doors and risked a glance inside. Empty.

  He was at the arms room door in seconds, pressing his finger to the pad. Had Max had time to lock him out? Was that even something he could do?

  A chime sounded, the negative one. Alex’s face paled, his heart thundered. Was this how it would end? They had both endured so much, only to be locked out of the only place that could offer salvation.

  No. It couldn’t be. He tried again. Negative chime.

  Desperate, he looked at his finger. It was covered in vomit and grime. He looked for a clean spot on his clothing and found none, so he put the finger in his mouth and licked it clean. He didn’t even notice the taste.

  He tried again. Positive chime. The lock clicked open.

  Alex bolted into the airlock corridor, clenching hi
s fists impatiently.

  “Come on, come on!” he cursed, glaring at the door behind him. It finally slid closed. Wasting no time, he pressed his thumb against the inner door.

  A negative chime sounded.

  “No!” he cried. “No, no, no!”

  There had been no prick. He had missed the hole. He tried again, and the door opened.

  Sighing with relief, he grabbed a rifle off the rack and dumped it on the table, then went through the aisles gathering equipment. He was frantic, desperate. He had to get back out there before one of them hurt her.

  There was no time to get fancy, so he put together a basic kit: modular tactical vest with plates, rifle, ten magazines, sidearm, some flashbangs and a few frag grenades. Just as he was about to leave, he decided to check the cameras. He pushed the chair away, leaned over the terminal and activated the security menu.

  There was no one in the hallway, but two armed men were approaching the warehouse. He couldn’t be sure, but they looked like Kristoff and Reynard. Returning to the menu, he selected the camera that overlooked Yael’s cabin. The image flicked on, and he froze.

  Her door was open, and a limp arm hung over the threshold. Her arm. Bob was walking away. The image was in color, and there was no mistaking the spreading area of red by the doorway.

  Yael’s blood. She wasn’t moving.

  I’ll waste this fucking kike whore. Don’t think I haven’t wanted to since I met her.

  He turned away, not willing to accept it. “No.”

  Unable to resist, he looked again, and nothing had changed, except her murderer was gone.

  “Please god!” he cried, aware of the irony of his prayer. “Please no!” An image on a screen, and his life had lost all meaning. The world, devoid of all those teeming billions had seemed so full with her in it, but now it was empty. Completely, utterly empty. It wasn’t a world he wanted to live in.