by G J Ogden
Gaia knew the question that Ethan struggled for; she gripped his hand tightly and with equal firmness, said, “It shows no sign of damage. If Summer can survive to term, or close to it, I will do everything in my power to save the baby. I promise that to you.”
It was more than Ethan could handle, and he broke down in tears, burying his face in Summer’s lap and gripping the blankets so tightly that they almost tore. Yuna and Zoie re-entered the room, saw Ethan and then looked at their mother and covered their mouths.
“No…” said Yuna, so softly that only her sister heard the word escape her lips.
Gaia got up and stroked the back of Ethan’s head gently, before saying, “I will come back later.”
Then she joined her daughters and together they stepped out of the hut and into the murky settlement square, where the cold, heavy rain poured down their faces and mixed with their tears.
Chapter 9
Ethan pulled his coat from the hook in the porch of the hut and slipped it on, fastening the buttons mindlessly as he stepped out into the settlement square. The rain had eased, but still fell steadily, filling the air with a calming white noise. He stood for a moment and let it fall onto his coat, listening to the droplets cascade onto the wax-coated fabric.
He had sat with Summer until the dark confines of his compact home had begun to press in on him and he found himself needing the space to think. Or to stop thinking, he wasn’t sure which. He began to trudge around the perimeter of the settlement, focusing on the patter of the rain and the squelch of his boots in the mud, which was occasionally interrupted by the hum of a GARD hovering overhead. He stopped to watch the graceful and deadly drone continue along its pre-defined path and then trudged forward again, head down. A few paces further on he caught sight of something glinting in the mud; it was partially buried, but the strong illumination from one the powerful lamps that Tyler’s automatons had installed reflected brightly off its surface. He picked it out of the mud, holding it up to the rain to help wash it clean, and then experienced a sudden rush of excitement followed by a paralyzing swell of sadness as he realized what it was. He swallowed hard and drew it closer, flipping it over to read the letters that were inscribed into the smooth, silver pendant.
It read, ‘Elijah Moiran - Ranger, Forest Gate.’
Ethan squeezed the pendant to his chest, pressing it hard against his sternum with both hands, and then he did something that surprised even himself – he smiled and laughed. He wondered if he had gone mad, or if perhaps he had already plumbed the depths of his grief to the extent that he couldn’t sink any lower and his brain simply had to revert to another emotion. But, whatever the reason, he was grateful for the feeling.
The GARD swung around the far edge of the settlement, probing the undulating terrain outside the settlement walls with its bright searchlight and, for the briefest of moments, Ethan saw the wizened old tree on the mound. It was the tree that he had sat under and gazed up at the lights in the night sky, with his curious, wide-eyed young nephew, before his world changed forever. He knew what he had to do.
Ethan slipped the ranger seal into his coat pocket and then ran to the ranger hut, inside which was a fresh supply of weapons, including a rack of Yuna’s enhanced bolt-throwers. He pushed the door open, grabbed one of these weapons and ran back out into the rain, before the door had even banged shut again. He climbed the steps onto the wall and pressed out through the driving rain towards the far corner, beyond which lay the mound and the tree. The rain made his vision blurry and he almost slipped and fell on the sodden wooden planks, but he didn’t care about the danger. He didn’t want anyone to see him and try to stop what he knew to be a foolhardy idea. He reached the corner of the wall and used the solid stone battlements as a brake, peering down in to the darkness below. Everything seemed calm and quiet, but ever since the space station fragment had smashed into the city, the terrain surrounding Forest Gate had become a deadly stalking ground for roamers and the maddened. He strapped the bolt-thrower over his shoulder and spun around, spotting a ladder hanging down into the settlement square. Using all his strength, he hoisted it up and onto the wall, and then gently guided it over the edge and let it slide down the outside wall until the brackets bit into the stone and it hung a meter or so above the grass outside. He tested the hold as best he could, but knew that the only way to truly tell if it would hold his weight would be to climb onto it. Again, the risk did not deter him, or even give him pause, and he climbed over the edge of the wall and guided his feet onto the rungs. Step by cautious step he descended, feeling the full force of the wind and the rain, now that he was no longer partially shielded by the settlement walls. The ladder wobbled and shivered with each step down, until his feet reached the bottom rung. Taking a deep breath, he pushed away from the ladder and felt the rush of air accelerate past his face as he dropped onto sodden grass outside Forest Gate. The soft earth cushioned his fall and he felt no pain. In fact, he felt nothing at all; not the lash of the wind, or the sting of the rain, or the cold wetness of his clothes. He was numb to everything except his need to reach the tree on the mound.
He stood and unslung the bolt-thrower from over his shoulder, turning the small dial on the side to arm the weapon. Distant lightning flashed across the horizon, like silver cracks in the night sky, briefly illuminating the tree’s black, dead branches. It was less than fifty meters from the wall, but he knew that one of the maddened could be out in the darkness; waiting, lying still like a corpse, but ready to strike at the slightest provocation. He paced forward, slowly and deliberately, sweeping the barrel of the bolt-thrower from left to right and peering into the darkness for any sign of movement. At the base of the mound he tightened his grip on the weapon’s handle and began the ascent, his boots carving slices of black dirt from the mound as he skidded on the wet slopes. Close to the top he slipped but caught himself, burying his hand into the soil, and pushed on to the summit. The storm had slipped further into the distance, taking the worst of the wind with it, and the rain had eased to a gentle shower. The dark clouds had moved away from the city, exposing the cold, black sky above, and each flash of lightning seemed to expose a different jagged skyline. Ethan hurried across to the ancient tree, rested his back against the craggy, dark trunk and breathed deeply. The smell of the air after a storm was unmistakable and intoxicating, and it always made him think of Summer.
He drank it in for a moment longer and then dropped to his knees under the overhanging branches. Driving his fingers into the soil, he dug a deep, narrow burrow, down until his knuckles hit the roots of the tree. Then he removed the ranger seal from his pocket and held it in front of him. He recalled the ranger’s oath that Elijah had taken only a year before, in front of Ethan, Summer, and the other rangers, and he spoke it out loud into the cold night air.
“I promise to protect the few so that we again can be many. Though the world fell, we will not.” He kissed the metal pendant and added, softly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Elijah. I’m sorry you fell. But, I promise you, I will not. I won’t rest until they’re all dead, Elijah. I’ll try to make you proud. I love you.”
Ethan pressed Elijah’s ranger seal into the hole, and as deep into the roots of the tree as he could reach, before replacing the black soil and smoothing it flat. He sat back against the tree, feeling the rain against his face and looked up as a light shot across the sky and vanished into the distance beyond the city. Ethan smiled and, for the first time in a long time, he felt a contentment flow through his body. This was where he belonged. Forest Gate was his home, and somehow he would find a way to save it, even if he couldn’t save Summer. He had to believe it was possible. As the old hermit had once told him, hope was the most valuable thing of all.
All at once, Ethan recollected something that the hermit had told him and he scrambled up from beneath the tree. “The hermit!” he shouted out into the night air. He cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. Gaia had talked about needing a key to unlock the mysteri
es of the Maddening, but Ethan had never been the key. The hermit had said it himself; he’d been everywhere and seen everything, and he knew things about the Fall, things no-one else knew. It was impossible to know how old he was, but he’d survived longer than anyone Ethan knew or had ever heard about. If there was a key to unlocking a cure then the chances are it would be contained within that curious old man’s bones. It was just a theory – perhaps even a fool’s hope – but he had to find out. So long as there was a chance, no matter how slim, he would not let Summer go.
He picked up the bolt-thrower and made for the edge of the mound, but before he had even taken a step, he saw the GARD swoop down towards him, its normally passive blue lights switched to a shining blood red. Ethan spun around. He’d been outside for too long, and had not been paying attention. He closed his eyes and listened intently, trying to filter out the sound of the wind and the rain and the rattle of the branches above his head. Then he heard the squelch of feet or hands driving through sodden soil and opened his eyes to see the familiar, elongated gray face of one of the maddened drawing itself up onto the plateau of the mound.
The ancient tree stood between the creature and Ethan, and he slowly stepped back and away from it, hearing the GARD bleep and warble its strange language from somewhere above and behind him. The creature hunkered low and fixed its black eyes onto Ethan. The bolt-thrower was powerful enough to stop it but was slow to recharge, so he would only have time for a single shot before the attacker would be upon him. He had to make it count. However, as he raised the weapon higher and took aim, a vibrant beam of energy illuminated the sky behind him, followed by the guttural howl of something dying. Ethan spun around and saw a second creature lying dead near the top of the mound, a circle of burned flesh the size of a fist smoldering on its chest. The GARD fired twice more and the brilliant flashes of light highlighted two more creatures at the base of the mound, before they too fell lifeless. Ethan twisted back and found the first attacker charging past the tree towards him. Panicking, he fired, sending the bolt cleanly through the creature’s side, but its momentum carried it on, barging Ethan back over the edge. He slid down the greasy slope and came to rest against the other charred body, its face seared black by the GARD’s violent electric blasts. He scrambled up and frantically looked around for the creature that had charged him, and saw it on the crest of the mound, black-red blood pouring from the puncture in its flesh. Yet it showed no signs of pain, and no suggestion of dying.
“Ethan! Run!”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw shadowy figures on the wall. The GARD was hovering away, back to the settlement; its lights had dimmed and its paced had slowed. Firing the electrical charges took tremendous energy, and he remembered Tyler saying they couldn’t sustain their assault for long. In the distance he could see the second GARD rising, but it wouldn’t reach him in time. He should have felt gripped with terror, but he didn’t; instead he felt enraged. Forest Gate belonged to all the settlers, but this mound and this old tree belonged to him. This was his sanctuary. He picked up the bolt-thrower, which had slid down the slope with him and began the climb, his boots sinking into the soil with each heavy step. He’d be damned if he’d let these creatures drive him away. Not again, not ever again.
He fired, striking the thing in the chest, then continued to climb, patiently waiting for the bolt-thrower to recharge as the creature stumbled and wavered. Calmly he fired again and this time the bolt flew into its head. It seemed to freeze momentarily, like a statue, then gurgled a grotesque, incoherent babble, before falling forward and sliding down the slope towards him. Ethan stuck out a boot and jammed the sole against its head, halting its descent and pressing its face deeper into the dirt.
The second GARD then swooped down on Ethan with such tremendous velocity that he felt a rush of air before the mechanical guardian came to an abrupt stop a few meters above his head. He looked up and saw its lights change from red to blue. There were no more attackers, for now, at least. Slinging the bolt-thrower over his shoulder, he turned and walked back to the settlement, with the GARD escorting him like some sort of faithful familiar. He reached the gate, which whirred open far enough for him to slip through, before whirring shut again. The GARD hovered and waited until the giant metal door thudded closed and then it rose up and began its stealthy and elegant circuit of the settlement, ever watchful and vigilant.
“Ethan, what the hell were you thinking?” He was surprised to see that it was Summer, and beside her was Yuna and Gaia. His first instinct was to grab Summer and pull her into an embrace, but he had seen the fiery look in her eyes before, and knew she was as likely to headbutt him as hug him.
“There was something I had to do,” he said and, before any of them could interject, added, “but forget about that for now, I know what we need to do next.” Then, looking directly at Gaia, he said, “There’s still hope.”
Chapter 10
Ethan sat on a bench in the ranger hut while Gaia circled one of her many medical devices above his head and around the back of his shoulders.
“Gaia, I’m fine, honestly, I just fell backwards off the mound, that’s all.”
Gaia shut off the device and studied the readings for a second. “I believe you mean, ‘fell backwards off the mound while trying to take on a group of genetically deformed monsters single-handedly’.”
“I wasn’t on my own,” said Ethan. “The GARD had my back, literally.”
“And a good job, too!” said Gaia. Her tone was like that of a mother scolding her teenaged child. “Quite remarkably, you have emerged unhurt.”
“I already told you that,” said Ethan, a little precociously, and then he felt guilty for his lack of gratitude and disregard for their concern. “Thank you for checking, Gaia.”
Summer was standing near the door, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Yuna and Zoie were further into the ranger hut, making some more hot herbal tea in an attempt to warm up after getting soaked in the rain once again. Ethan had explained to them that the drink was a blend of hardy hedgerow flowers, nettle leaves, honey and a collection of spices that he couldn’t name if his life depended on it. Yuna had been the first to try some, and despite its unappetizing, murky brown appearance, found it was actually delicious and spread a soothing energy throughout her entire body, like being immersed in a hot bath.
“What were you doing out there?” asked Summer. It was framed as a question, but sounded more like a dressing-down.
“I found Elijah’s ranger seal,” said Ethan, and the mention of Elijah’s name caused Summer to wilt and sit down on the bench. “I just saw it, lying out in the mud; I don’t know how it got there, and it doesn’t matter really. I just knew I had to bury it at the tree.”
He looked up at Summer, but her head was low and her eyes covered by the wet strands of red hair that had fallen over her face. He waited for her to look up, but when she didn’t, he looked across at Gaia instead. “I know it was foolish; reckless even. But it was something I had to do.”
Gaia sighed heavily. “If you say so, Ethan, though I have to say I do not understand your actions,” she said, still in a motherly tone.
“I do,” said Summer, looking at Ethan through her veil of hair, “and I understand why you didn’t want me with you.”
“That’s not it at all, Summer. It was just a crazy, spur of the moment decision,” said Ethan, refusing to let Summer invent more reasons to punish herself. “If I’d have stopped to think about it, I wouldn’t have gone. Besides, you’re in enough danger as it is, without me adding to it.”
Gaia shifted uncomfortably and, from the stove, Yuna and Zoie looked at each other uneasily. Ethan forced his eyes shut tightly, realizing his slip.
“What do you mean, I’m in enough danger as it is?” said Summer, glowering first at Ethan and then at Gaia and Zoie. “If there is something wrong with me, I need to know!”
“Summer, please try to calm down,” said Gaia. “I was going to speak with you when you woke, b
ut with all the excitement, we have not had the opportunity.”
Summer folded her arms across her chest again. “Then tell me now.”
“Perhaps this isn’t the best time; everyone is already on edge,” suggested Ethan. It felt like the temperature in the hut had plummeted.
“And whose fault is that?” asked Summer, fixing an icy stare on Ethan. Then to Gaia, only slightly less frostily, she added, “Just tell me whatever it is that you’re not telling me. I don’t need coddling.”
“As you wish, Summer,” said Gaia, calmly, dropping the motherly tone. “The reason why you passed out in the settlement square is because you are suffering from the side-effects of early-stage genetic deformation.”
The words seemed to hit Summer like an icy wind. She was used to plain speaking, but Gaia had laid out these facts with the clinical precision of a surgeon.
Gaia continued to lay it all out, raw and unfiltered. “You will not, as you planetsiders say, become maddened. That is, you will not turn into one of those hideous creatures. This is something I can prevent.”
There was no visible reaction from Summer to this news, but she remained intently focused on Gaia’s every word.
“Sadly, however, Ethan’s blood has not provided the key to unlocking a cure. I can delay the onset of the condition for a period of time. For how long, exactly, I do not know.” Then Gaia stood and peered down at Summer, as if delivering a proclamation. “But, you are a formidably strong young woman, Summer, and so I expect you to fight this with every fiber of your being, while I continue to research a cure.”
Summer’s eyes flicked around the room, not looking at anything in particular. It was like watching the rapid eye movement of sleep, except Summer’s eyes were wide open, and she was not dreaming.
