“Garrett!” I hollered after him. He turned to look at me. “If you want to see something really exciting, go for a walk in the woods.”
He nodded and twisted his mouth into a side smile, before turning back and walking away.
Ronald rounded everyone up and instructed us on how to create ‘wattle and daub’ huts. The idea was simple: insert strong posts vertically into the ground in a rectangle, about a foot apart, as tall as you wanted the hut to be. You then wove in smaller twigs or sticks and added mud to the weave. A ‘wattle and daub’ roof was meant to provide excellent air circulation. A fire in the middle completed the shelter.
The vertical posts would need to be as tall as we wanted the hut to be, and deeply embedded in the ground to maintain the structure’s integrity. To do this, we sharpened the end of the posts with the knives from our MACE suits and twisted them into the ground. We found nearby rocks about the size of our hands to beat the posts into the earth.
Weaving the twigs and branches throughout the posts was my favorite part. We had to find flexible limbs to work with so that they did not crack or break, or else we would have a weak structure. Once I had the hang of weaving, it was quick and easy work. When the weaving was completed, we started on the roof, which was the same concept. Strong posts were held together with nails and woven limbs between them, and then fastened to the rest of the structure to provide good shelter from the sun and any possible rain. Once that was done, the vision of the structure became clear.
The next step was to build a ‘stove’ in the center of the shelter. The stove was built up with clay we had found in a nearby creek, and a vent dug into the ground underneath. This would provide heat to bake the clay onto the structure. Also, it would provide a nice cooking stove for new clay utensils, food, and heat.
Adding the ‘daub’ was the most difficult—but fun—part of building the huts. First, we mixed the clay with water by hand so that it was pliable. Next, we mixed in a one-third ratio of dead flower weed we had harvested from the field. There were tons of it lying underneath the new growth. The hollow stems of the flower weed added extra structure to the shelter. Once the two were mixed together, it was applied to the ‘wattle’, or weaving. We had to make sure to insert the ‘daub’ into every crevice of the ‘wattle’ and then smooth the edges on the inside and outside so that the fire inside and the sun outside would create a protective crust until everything was completely set and dry.
After twelve combined hours, we all had homes of our own. Every single one of us was covered in mud, but we didn’t care. We had done it. We were officially ‘homeowners’ on Circadia.
I stood back and looked at my new home. I had never been so proud of something in my life. It was strange how a hut of sticks and mud had given me so much confidence and pride.
Chapter Eleven
AFTER I STARTED THE fire in my hut to bake on the ‘daub’ and made sure it would sustain itself, I decided to go for a run. I had always gone for runs back on Earth to stay in shape. On Circadia, I decided to keep running to not only stay in shape, but also to explore the new world. Glancing around as I ran, I took in the sight of all the small huts. Some people had put no care into their homes, and others had made intricate sculptures out of the mud on the side of the small structures. You could definitely tell what type of person lived in each hut.
A couple of small paths were formed between all of the homes that joined up into something like a main roadway. Walking along the trail, I noticed most of the homes were set up in the teams they were assigned, as ours were, too. Coming across the lane where the TV crew was set up, I could see that their homes had been built, and they were tinkering with a large computer and crazy antennas. I slowed to a walk when I approached.
“What are you all doing?” I asked through heavy breaths.
“Trying to get the news!” one of the cameramen answered.
“Are you serious? That would be great,” I said.
“That’s what we were thinking!” said one of the men.
“Well, cool, glad to see you guys ended up being useful to some degree, even if you are annoying as hell. See ya, guys,” I said.
Some of them gave me dirty looks, but I didn’t care. I continued down the path until I reached one of the fields. Running as far as the field would take me, I came across a large lake. I ran beside it, always watching the water for movement. I had a hard time believing that the ‘Skitters’ were the only thing that survived the trip. Although I never caught any wakes in the lake, no matter how many times I imagined them.
I ran completely around the water and back. My lungs were killing me. The air was much thinner on Circadia. The lower oxygen levels hadn’t hit me until toward the end of my run, which made me think they couldn’t be much lower than Earth’s. Being forced to walk, I made my way back reluctantly. I wanted to go further, explore more, see more sights that had never been seen, but I resisted. The woods called to me. I wanted to visit them before the evening was over, so I took off across the open trail of flower weeds despite my burning lungs.
Upon entering the woods, the sky and sun were blotted out by the purple leaves of the trees. I sat at the base of one of the largest and leaned against the massive trunk. The wind blew through the trees and shook the branches, causing a commotion in the sky. The breeze felt great against my hot skin and I soaked it up. After I’d been sitting for quite some time, the small critters from the night before came out to satisfy their curiosity.
The silence surrounding me was all consuming. I took a moment to appreciate the seclusion. Then I heard footsteps falling softly on the underbrush, slow and quiet. Looking around the tree, I saw Garrett approaching.
Usually I enjoyed being alone. My stomach dropped reflexively when I saw that Garrett was going to intrude on my alone time, but then I felt a bit happy. I liked having the company of people here, which was unexpected for me.
“You told me to come out here. Then I saw you running across the field, so I decided to follow you,” he said. He worked his thumbs together, back and forth, as he looked up at the brightly-colored trees. His face was red and his hair a mess from running to catch up.
“Have a seat.” I patted the ground next to me. “Be very quiet and I'll show you something.”
Garrett sat close to me and looked into my eyes like he always did. His big brown eyes were so intense. “What are we waiting for?” he said.
“Just be quiet.”
Moments passed in silence as we looked up into the trees, until finally the tiny little figures started to crawl out of the trees again. A look of bewildered amazement flooded Garrett’s face, and I felt a smile creep across mine.
“What are they?” he asked.
“I have no idea. I meant to ask Spencer what he thought, but I’ve just been so busy.” I said. “So busy I forgot to ask about an alien race we discovered. Isn’t that crazy?” I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.
“This is amazing.” He stared up at the small creatures. They worked up some courage and began chipping like squirrels and climbing down lower in the trees. We observed and laughed for what seemed like hours. Every funny movement they made caused us to laugh. It felt nice to just relax, completely submerged in Circadia.
My mind floated back to times of Earth. The memory that kept striking me was the driver back in New Zealand. “Someone told me before we left, that we were the lucky ones. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I get it now. I’m so glad we were chosen to do this. We truly are lucky.” Looking up at the stars, I couldn’t help but feel whole.
“Yeah, I mean, you get to sit here with an awesome guy like me,” Garrett said. “How much more lucky could you get?”
I laughed even harder.
“DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD head back?” Garrett asked.
“Probably. Thanks for coming out here with me. I had fun.”
Garrett’s eyes twinkled. “It’s no problem. Thank you for showing me your secret critters.”
“Skitters,” I s
aid, and winked. He laughed again.
On the journey back to our huts, we walked close together. Our shoulders occasionally bumped and the other would shy away. Laughing and blushing, we walked home in euphoria. When we arrived, we saw the crowd of people huddled around the TV crew’s camp.
“What’s going on?” Garrett asked as he started to push through the crowd.
Everyone turned to look at us, almost tearful. No one said a word. My heart dropped without even knowing what was going on. They looked at us in pity, as though we were innocent now, but would soon be scarred.
Pushing through the people to see what the big deal was, I noticed a TV monitor positioned at the forefront of the crowd. The TV crew had accomplished receiving Earth’s international news here on Circadia. The headlines that flew across the screen over and over were horrifying.
“Nuclear War Fallout”
“World War Three”
“Millions Dead After Nuclear Blast”
Broadcasts came in and out as we tempted the limits of distance with our technology. A newscaster spoke, “As you can see, two nuclear blasts have been detected near New York and Moscow. At this moment, it is not known where the bombs have come from, but we are waiting on further intel. It is unclear how far the blasts have reached, and what is being done. Wait—we are getting new information now: there has been another nuclear bomb just outside of L.A.” The words cut like glass. Deep and quick. Screams from the newsroom could be heard as the massacre unfolded. We repeatedly watched video streams of the devastation that marked its path. Clips of the bombs blasting. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.
The plume of smoke rose high into the air. That’s what we saw on the news, but what they saw down there must have looked a lot different. Choking images of ash clouding the air flooded my mind. The thought of the stench of burned buildings, of burned flesh. The thought that the whole world was at war and there were people down there in the middle of it, were the most gut-wrenching images that had ever crossed my mind.
The mushroom cloud could be seen for thousands of miles around each target. Hundreds of thousands of immigrants, all covered in ash and some badly burned, poured into surrounding countries. What seemed like such a huge world before suddenly became a lot smaller.
Had we not turned on the TV that night, we would never have known. Everything seemed so distant, but so personal. My initial reaction was one of no emotion. Almost as if it was a cruel joke. I looked around at all of the people surrounding me. No one flinched, just sobbed quietly. It took a good two minutes to realize that I wasn’t in a nightmare, and I hadn’t died and gone to hell. This was real. It was hell on Earth, and we weren’t there.
Not a soul moved from the television screen that night. Everyone was either staring at the monitor or crying into their hands. I looked behind me, into the sky, toward Earth. The enormous globe loomed, as always, but this time it was different.
We had been so consumed with making Circadia work that all of us had forgotten to look up into the sky, toward home. The debris trapped in the ozone was obvious, creating a cloudy overcast over most of Earth. Our planet was falling to pieces, and we were worlds apart. I felt the tears stream from my eyes, but I didn’t make a sound. Instead, I stared for hours at the smoldering planet we had left behind.
THE DAYS DRAGGED ON after that night. Everyone continued to watch the television in between their necessary chores, but not a whole lot was done. More information trickled in slowly, but it was never enough. There were always holes in the info, since we had no previous knowledge of what led to this or even who had done it, and our signal was frequently lost.
The nuclear blasts had hit at night while no one was expecting it. Unlike the bombs used in WWII, these were megaton bombs. They killed everyone within a three-mile radius of the blast instantly, gave severe burns to anyone within an eight-mile radius, and temporarily blinded anyone within a thirteen-mile radius. The site of the bomb blast was estimated to reach five hundred and forty thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Heat instantly destroyed large cities. Long-range photographs were taken that showed an enormous cloud of smoke in the shape of a mushroom. The visual was enough to make me want to puke.
Since five large cities were hit by the all-out war, frantic instructional videos played over and over warning people of the dangers of nuclear fallout and what to do to prevent poisoning. We watched on repeat, in shock, but couldn’t feel the full effect since we weren’t there.
Newscasters reported that the ash covered a couple thousand miles, and there was no body count because the numbers were too high. The whole Earth went archaic as technology was disrupted or outright failed. Anarchy rose and fell, as governments and civilians battled. Over what? No one had any idea. It was chaos.
The Earth spun downward, careening into oblivion. When there wasn’t talk of the uprising and rallies on the news, they were talking about the nuclear winter that was forming. The nuclear debris was trapped in the Earth’s stratosphere, blocking out the sun. What crops remained unharmed by the war would soon die off as a result of the temperatures dropping by at least ten degrees across the globe.
Panic about where their next meal would come from and what was being done to fix it erupted among the masses. Looting became more prevalent and the streets more dangerous. We heard about charity groups bringing small farmers with greenhouses together to provide people with food, but those distribution centers were quickly seized by the formidable gangs running the show. Reports of a loaf of bread costing twenty-two dollars near Dallas came across the waves one night, and everyone gasped. With jobs becoming scarce as economies collapsed, no one could afford to feed themselves.
Talk on Circadia circulated around where people’s families were, what we would be going home to, or if the possibility of us going home was still even an option. People were looking to different nations’ governments to take action. We watched live United Nations meetings, where government leaders argued for hours, without ever seeming to reach a decision.
AFTER A COUPLE OF LONG days, Captain Idris attempted to use the softphone to try and make contact with Earth—with anyone—but no one answered. They were all undoubtedly busy, but we felt so alone. We were surely forgotten in the chaos. No one cared about a reality TV show anymore. There were bigger things happening, like war. Besides, it was mostly a secret that we had even launched. The panic that we had been left alone to our own devices on a new planet spread through the group.
Everyone sat around the softphone when Idris attempted to make contact, anxiously waiting to hear a reply, but the call was never received.
Individually, people tried to call their loved ones. Only a handful of the calls were answered, and all bore some sort of bad news. The majority of the outgoing communication was never reciprocated, leaving open space for the mind to wonder. My heart ached for my mother, whom I had no idea about. I yearned to know if she was safe, in trouble, or worse. I attempted to call, but like the rest, there was no answer. Everyone gathered when Idris would attempt to reach home, hoping for the best. I begged to a God I didn’t believe in to save them.
In between one of the four calls made each day, people carried on with normal life as best they could. A few people volunteered to prepare meals with pork and freeze-dried vegetables, while the rest of us worked toward progress.
Deciding to try and move on, I ran the first soil test on Circadia. It didn’t make me feel any better. None of the results made any kind of sense. Phosphates, nitrogen, potash all showed levels of concentration that were off the charts. Unprecedented. I took the soil sample to the chemistry team, hoping for an answer. Their wide eyes were telling. They looked at me like I was crazy or pulling a prank on them. I never got any clarity, which made me worry.
The architects worked on actual houses as best they could without laborers. The chem team continued to work on the soil samples and find the minerals and ores we needed. With no answers about the soil conditions, I worked on tilling fields and working the ground as bes
t I could without help. The engineers worked on setting up solar panel fields with a skeleton crew. Of course, we did not have the help we needed or required, but since the camera crew had stopped filming without anyone to broadcast to, they pitched in and helped where they were needed. It was refreshing to be free from the watchful eyes of the cameras and to see the camera crew finally pick up their slack.
Our efforts towards progress were efforts frequently interrupted by new headlines. It was a shit show, and no one knew what to do about it.
It was worse than the first time everyone thought Earth was coming to an end, which said something about the conditions down there. Before, when Circadia was projected to smash into Earth, doom was imminent but the current conditions were good. Now, the world could feel the asphyxiation that ultimately was consuming them.
Our hearts hurt for them. There was nothing we could have done there, but there was definitely nothing we could do here. We had no idea if our loved ones were alive or dead, or if our homes were gone. The feeling of knowing we might never go home pounded in my brain over and over. We stayed strong, though. Not one of use cried after that initial night, but it was all a front.
And then one morning, everything changed. The news leaders announced that a new plan would be initiated, direct from the nation’s front-runners. It was no wonder that when they finally reached a unanimous decision about the future of earth and its people, it was well-received. Newscasts showed people back home parading around and celebrating in the cities, now that new hope had arrived.
We watched from above. In a shocking turn of events, we were expected to solve Earth’s problems. We alone, a group of a hundred people, were supposed to be their saviors. They announced it to the world before we were ever notified. We sat in shock. The sentiment that we thought we were forgotten and alone had been overwhelming. Now, we were going to be Earth’s last-ditch effort. We were a unique group of individuals, never backing down from a challenge, but this challenge was another thing entirely.
The Circadia Chronicles: Omnibus: The Complete Colonization Sci-Fi Series Page 8
