Defiant: Quantic Dreams Book 2

by Elizabeth McLaughlin

  With a crack, sparks flew into the tinder and smoke started to billow from the bottom of the pile. I dropped the spade and fell to my stomach on the ground, blowing on the smoking brush gently to feed more oxygen to the fire. A small flame burst from the grass and I whooped, the force of my exaltation almost extinguishing the lifesaving fire. A little more coaxing and I had myself a small but sustainable source of warmth. The happiness that flooded my brain was a hundred thousand years old; the sheer relief of knowing that as long as the flames danced before me, I would live. I allowed myself a couple of minutes to relish in my triumph before ripping open another survival ration. The 3D printed goop inside was the best thing I had ever tasted. I even took a double dose of water in celebration.

  The sun was setting over the horizon in a spectacular display of reds and oranges that looked like the sky itself was aflame. Now that I had met my basic needs it was easier to take in my surroundings. It was so difficult to focus that first night that I had failed to notice I wasn’t alone out here. The crabs may have been the only animal life I encountered in person but I could hear strange calls in the distance. They sent chills down my spine, an ancient warning that reminded me that nothing was guaranteed. Out here it wasn’t every day that was a gift, it was every moment. Looking up I could see a sea of stars and planets peeking through the rapidly darkening sky. It was no wonder that our ancestors worshipped things like the moon. Living in this environment it was easy to believe the orbs in the sky were gods; humans lived and died by them. There was no difference between a deity and nature. Then, and now, they were one and the same.

  My eyelids had started growing heavy when I noticed a flash in the distance. It was maybe half a mile away, yellowish and small. Rubbing my eyes, I blinked hard and waited to see if it would show itself again. Sure enough, it did. Was it the eyes of an animal, attracted by the smell of human and the sight of fire? I thought I could only see one light at a time. If it was an animal, it had either lost an eye or it was some creature I had never encountered in textbooks before. My ears strained to pick up any kind of noise coming from the direction of the flash, but I couldn’t hear anything over the growing wind. No matter what was out there, it was time to finish up my evening and prepare for bed.

  Using my teeth, I ripped off a few strips of my precious fabric supply. Two of the pieces went to wrapping my feet; it was a far cry from shoes but the canvas offered some basic protection from the cold and debris of the ground. The third strip I rolled into a cone and stuffed with grass. Once it was sufficiently tamped down I held the end of the cone to the fire. It lit with a whoosh, the tip releasing a puff of smoke into the air. Now I had a rudimentary torch. Fire in hand I went to the latrine with the spade tucked under my arm. I dug a small hole in the dirt for the torch and wedged it into the ground. It wasn’t a steady perch and I jumped every time the wind blew, certain that my light source would topple and be extinguished.

  When I finished my business I ripped out a handful of grass and twisted it tightly to make toilet paper. Even with my take on modern amenities, there was no denying how disgusting an experience this was. I was just preparing to cover up my waste when the dry urine saturated cloth I used to wash myself earlier fell from my pocket. A stray thread hanging from it caught the torch and set the fabric burning.

  I watched the strip burn curiously. A foul smell emanated from it; the stink vaguely reminded me of the scent of illness. I had assumed that the urine would have somehow changed the chemistry of the fabric to make it more difficult to burn, not easier. I picked up the torch gingerly and examined the remains of the cloth. It had burned up quickly. I could use that. I crushed the warm ash under my foot and returned to my tent for the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The only thing that kept my small beacon of light burning overnight was the dip in heat that woke me every time the flames started to die. By morning the temperature had equalized enough that I let the fire die. As I was falling asleep I resolved that the best way to get the attention of the shelter inhabitants was to follow the example of my ancestors. If I built a fire high enough and large enough, either the cameras would pick it up or the shelter’s safety protocols would notify the inhabitants of a danger to the shelter’s entrance. Of course, if I managed to set off the fire alarms inside the shelter there was a high likelihood that I would be a pile of ash myself.

  I retrieved a couple of crabs from the stream and dispatched them quickly with the sharp edge of a rock. A larger stone would serve as my cooking stone, but I had severe doubts about being able to build a fire large and hot enough to heat the rock. My kingdom for a tree. I decided to build a small fire and toss the crabs into the middle of it. When the critters smelled cooked I scraped them out with one of the rocks and hissed as I burned my hand. Sucking on the burn I turned the crab over. Its carapace had split revealing a precious nugget of pale meat inside. My stomach growled and my mouth watered. Millimeters from bringing the savory smelling flesh to my mouth, I stopped. As many skills as my parents had imparted to me, none of them had to do with wilderness survival. It made sense that there were plants that could poison me, but who knows how many rads of radiation the local wildlife had been exposed to over the years. Not to mention that I would be introducing microbes and bacteria that my system had never been exposed to.

  Another massive stomach complaint compelled me to take the risk. With luck I would be back inside within the next twenty-four hours and if I wasn’t, there was a significant chance that I’d be dead soon afterwards. The taste of the crab meat was heavenly. Growing up on a diet of mostly 3D printed food had inured me to what flavor actually was. What I thought tasted good in the shelter was nothing compared to this. The river crabs weren’t big—maybe a couple of inches long—but I found enough meat in each one to satisfy my hunger. For a few minutes it was as if I was the king of the world. I cracked my quarry open like walnuts, sucking each and every morsel from their bodies. The hot food did more than satiate my growling stomach, it boosted my morale. So much so that I failed to notice the soft growling coming from my left.

  Moving slowly, I placed the remainder of my meal on the ground and looked. Hidden in the grasses about a hundred yards from me was an enormous cat-like animal, its eyes fixed on me. It was like nothing I had ever seen in videos, resembling a mutated tiger more than anything else. It had dark fur, its coat reflecting rippling muscles in the morning sun. I could see massive front paws anchoring it in the dirt, one toe longer than the rest, each of them tipped in a long, sharp claw. The rear legs were coiled, muscles twitching with potential energy. There was no doubt it could reach me in a single leap. Its ears were pushed back on its head, lengthy tufts of hair slicked back to minimize its profile. A twitching tail belied its intentions. I caught a glimpse of its torso as it settled in for the jump-it was emaciated. There obviously wasn’t a lot of large game around here for it to hunt.

  The spade was inches from my right hand. I had a choice. Food, or fighting. Or running, but I wouldn’t make it very far.

  I creeped the fingers of my left towards the crab carcass resting in the embers of the fire. Knowing I would sustain more burns, I grimaced and tugged the crab towards me by a leg. When I had it in hand I wrapped my fingers around the thing and realized that I hadn’t thought this far ahead. If I threw my precious food would the monstrosity even chase it? Or would it perceive my pitching an object in its direction as an attack and carve me into pieces? The growling was becoming louder now as the cat-thing pressed its body closer to the ground. It didn’t matter that I had never seen this animal before. This was body language encoded into my very DNA from the ancestors. A predator about to pounce. Think fast, idiot.

  Being careful not to lose eye contact I threw the crab as close to the cat-thing as I could. Its eyes followed the trajectory of the morsel and it chuffed as the carapace bounced off its huge head, rubbing one of its huge paws over its muzzle to clean itself. Okay, time for plan B. I grabbed the spade and swung it as hard as I could
into the metal of the shelter’s outer door, producing a huge bang. The cat-thing hissed and backed up a couple of paces. I slammed the spade against the door again and again, adding a full throated bellow. The creature’s ears perked upwards and it turned tail and ran, throwing in a parting hiss for good measure. As soon as it was far enough away that I felt as though I wouldn’t be eaten I collapsed to the ground, heart pounding. My lungs screamed for air. I hadn’t realized that I had been holding my breath the whole time. To avoid hyperventilating I counted my breaths. In for four seconds, hold for four seconds, out for six seconds. My body rebelled against the restriction but I knew that letting things run wild was going to make it worse, not better.

  “Get up,” I said to the air. “Get up Jacob.” My legs wouldn’t budge. “Get up or you’re going to die out here.” I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the ground.

  “Good.” My inner voice had taken over executive functions. “Now walk to your camp and clean it up.” There really wasn’t that much to clean up, but my father’s insistence that everything should be kept as tidy as possible raised me with the same instinct. Instead of cleaning, I organized. Rearranging my meager fire pit, cleaning up the crab shells, and positioning my water catching tarp far away from the flames were the first tasks. By the time I had finished, the simple ritual of cleaning my space had considerably calmed me down.

  The whole scene was surreal; the notion that there was an animal out here that could actually kill and eat me was a fantasy. Tales of monstrosities that only existed in my nightmares, and one had just practically walked up to sniff me. The urge to loose my bladder was stronger than it had been my first night outside but I managed to resist. The appearance of the cat-thing didn’t just mean that I wasn’t alone out here, it meant that my time to get the attention of someone inside the shelter was shorter than anticipated.

  The addition of the crab meat to my digestive tract and the terror of nearly getting eaten had gotten things moving. Nature was calling and it was impossible to ignore the urge any longer. On my way to the latrine I felt something cool and squishy under my foot. I pulled my leg up to find that I had discovered a pat of dried animal dung. It had made its way into the cracks and crevices of the cloth still clinging to the soles of my feet. Seeing as I already stank I decided to leave it alone and continued my way to relieve myself. After a lifetime of using modern toilets I wasn’t exactly sure how to empty my bowels without making an utter mess of myself. I dropped my trousers and squatted over the hole, only to land in the dirt seconds later. It was comical. Facing certain death by giant cat, our hero find that he can’t even use the bathroom! One I had rescued my pride, I decided to abandon the idea of pants all together and try the squat technique again. This time was much easier. I finished my business and used a handful of grass to clean up.

  Both waste and ‘toilet paper’ were buried under a thin layer of dirt. Though my hands remained mostly clean, I still made a quick trip to the stream. Early humans must have had it rough. Forget hot food and a clean bed, I was getting homesick for a toilet. I don’t think I looked down for a single moment. My eyes constantly scanned the horizon, ears pricked for any unexpected sound. The cat-thing wasn’t the only predator out here, no doubt, and I didn’t want to spend too long in the open.

  Standing in front of the shelter’s entrance, I crossed my arms and glared at the two small observation cameras. I couldn’t imagine the horrors taking place below me. I could only assume that Gabriel had strong-armed his way into a leadership position by now. He would have claimed that it was his right. After all, I did abandon everyone in my quest for self-destruction. Though it hadn’t yet been a week, the disease had been spreading so rapidly I idly wondered if there was anyone left alive to rescue me at all. If that was the case…I put the scenario out of my mind. Starting down that road lead to nothing but hopelessness and despair. I would set my signal fire first and worry about the rest later. Nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was strange, breathing in fresh air. The air in the shelter was always odorless and the climate control always perfect. Each time I woke was a fresh bouquet of plants and earth fresh to my nose. For that brief moment I could forget that the fate of civilization hung in the balance. I took advantage of my newfound environment to start conditioning myself as a runner again. Every beat of my feet in the dirt harkened back to a primordial rhythm encoded deep in my DNA. If I thought running in the shelter brought on a high, this was positively euphoric. I poured on the steam and sprinted to the stream, around the shelter’s entrance, and back again. When I returned to my camp I took a small piece of my priceless cloth and headed to the stream for the most frigid bath of my life. Thankfully the sun provided ample warmth as it began its journey over the horizon and I dried off quickly.

  My presence at the stream appeared to have startled the crabs into hiding. I dug deeply into the muddy banks hoping that I might stumble across one, but no such luck. I needed to find some other source of food. Today. My last pre-made meal Gabriel provided had become the victim of a midnight snack. My body wasn’t used to this. I was using muscles that I hadn’t challenged in years, and I would have bet the mixture of oxygen in the air was different. If I didn’t keep up a sufficient caloric intake I would start losing muscle mass along with body fat.

  “At least I’m not suffocating on argon,” I muttered aloud to no one.

  Seeing as I had time to kill, I settled on doing some calisthenics. Just like the organizing, performing the same ritual I did everyday served to center my mind. The specter of the cat-thing still hung over my thoughts but instead of fear, I felt motivation. The primal instinct of a caveman defending his territory against all comers. I had to smile a little at that. If you can’t laugh at it all, what can you do. Once I had finished, I ripped off a piece of cloth and stuck it under a heavy rock in front of the cameras. With luck there was someone still peeking at the cameras from time to time and they would see the very human change in scenery and come looking.

  I creeped as carefully as I could through the brush, searching for anything that I could use to set a trap. I found a few strong stemmed plants that looked like they would be useful for setting traps but nothing concrete. If I was going to spear small animals or even insects I was going to need something that I could sharpen the end of. Somewhere in this field there could be a sharpened rock but if there was it would be hours or days until I found it. Setting trap pits was my better bet. If only I had some bait. Everywhere I turned my mind put forth ideas and every one was shot down. I was about to get on my hands and knees to hunt down a snack a sharp pain shot through my toes.

  Yanking up my foot, I found a long insect with its pincers sunk deep into my big toe. It was four or five inches long, small legs wiggling on each side of a shiny brown carapace. I pulled it off and held the thing up to my face. It swung back and forth, straining its body to curl around and catch another piece of my flesh. My stomach growled, the sight of living prey stoking my appetite. The logic made perfect sense. If crabs were edible, insects should be too, right? I set the bug back on the ground keeping a tight grip on the end of its body. I was counting on the insect thinking I was a predator and retreating back to its den, where hopefully I would find dozens of other bugs. The prospect of eating a crawling bug, never mind more than one wasn’t the most appetizing prospect but food was food.

  The insect did indeed lead me back to its nest. A couple feet away I let the thing go and it skittered away. I bent down and put my ear towards the nest, being careful to stay far away so that none of the little bastards could bite me. Inside I heard the gnashing of dozens, maybe a hundred insects. They didn’t seem to be acknowledging my presence. A couple of bugs crawled out of the nest here and there but none of them made a beeline for me. The spade was the only sharp instrument I had at my disposal and it would be a poor tool here. I had to figure out another way.

  Seeing as I needed a dry run on setting a signal fire anyway, flooding the insec
t nest with smoke should knock the little beasts out long enough for me to roast them up nicely. I dragged my hands through the dirt in an “X” large enough for me to see from a distance and made my way back in the direction of camp. On my way I stopped by the stream and pulled up as many long stemmed plants as I could. Bringing the rock and spade back to the insect nest wasn’t really a choice. Even if managed to strike up a fire on site it would be completely uncontrolled. Weaving the plants into a braid I wrapped the ends around themselves into a ball. It took me the better part of an hour but I managed to get the ball lit on fire. Stepping carefully to not extinguish the precious flame, I returned to the nest and lowered the fireball carefully into the hole.

  At first, nothing happened. Smoke billowed from inside the nest and I could hear a rapid clicking as the bugs scrambled to find an escape from a fiery death. One must have discovered the way out because it zipped from the nest entrance into the grass so quickly I could barely track it. Its comrades soon followed and I tried in vain to stomp on one or two of them. It was like shooting fish in a barrel-or so I thought. The first bug I managed to catch under the sole of my foot curled its body almost in half and caught my skin between its huge pincers. I yanked my foot back instinctively and more bugs rushed forward to swarm their attacker. Soon my feet and legs were covered in the damn things. In addition to their brutal pinching mouths the bugs also had stingers on the other end of their bodies that they sank into my calves and thighs as they crawled towards my torso.