“Look, I don’t know—” Noah began.
“Eighty-three years,” Paul said. “That’s how long.”
“That’s really specific, dude,” Touré said.
“Paul, you’re not being reasonable,” Noah said. “Let me get the trap out of here before you do real damage to it.”
“Oh my god,” Ananda gasped. “You’re right.”
“They live backwards, don’t they?” Paul said. “I finally figured out what you were hiding. They live backwards. Eighty-three years in this creature’s future is eighty-three years in our past. What happens in eighty-three years is, that creature you trapped in there breaks out of his prison and kills every man, woman, and child on the planet.”
“While looking for us,” Robbie said.
“And we weren’t there, so it just kept on going,” Paul said. “Tell me I’m wrong, Noah.”
“Wait, no,” Touré said. “No, no, no. Did we just kill everyone? Just now?”
“Wasn’t us,” Paul said. “It had to play out like this.”
“He’s right,” Ananda said. “The human race died in our past. It had to happen the way it did. We had no agency.”
“Buthe did,” Paul said, gesturing at Noah with the barrel of his shotgun. “None of this happens without him.”
“Guys,” Noah said, raising his hands. “It’s not really like that. Okay, okay, it sort of is, but do you have any idea how much energy those creatures produce? The thing on the ground is a power cell, and this is the best way to charge it.”
“By entrapping a sentient being?” Ananda asked.
“It’s the most efficient way, by far,” Noah said. “Look, we use tachyonic energy for interstellar travel, and it’s hugely valuable. This one battery holds enough to power a thousand ships for a hundred years.”
“You’re joking,” Robbie said.
“I’m totally serious. Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but, I mean, look around. It’s all about energy, right? You understand that.”
“You went mining for energy,” Carol said, quietly, “on our planet. By baiting a hyperenergetic being into a trap. He provides access to enormous amounts of energy in exchange for our extinction and you . . . you expect us to understand?”
“You’re not extinct! I saved you guys!”
“Robbie,” Paul said. “I’m going to shoot him. Do you have a problem with that?”
“I cannot stress to you,” Noah said, “how important this energy source is.”
“No problem,” Robbie said. “Go ahead.”
Win beat Paul to it. With a guttural scream, she charged Noah, smashed his head to the ground, and punched him in the face. She had her knife out and was ready to finish him off when Noah said the one thing that could possibly stay her hand.
“THERE ARE OTHERS!” he shouted.
Win screamed, plunged the knife into the dirt next to his head, and grabbed him by the throat. “Say that again?” she said, slapping him across the face.
“I said, there are others!”
“Win,” Robbie said, “get off him.”
She shot a look of pure murder over her shoulder, but did as he asked. She pulled the knife from the dirt, rolled off the alien, and stood. “We should still kill him,” she said. “Right now. Gut him and see what his insides look like, up close.”
“Just step back,” Robbie said. “Paul’s got him covered.”
Noah climbed up to one knee. He looked annoyingly fragile.
“Thanks, Robbie,” he said.
“Don’t,” Robbie said. “Now. Explain yourself. And make it good.”
“I said, there are others,” Noah said. “I didn’t just save the seven of you. It’s the truth. I have more.”
“How many?”
“Um . . .” He looked like he was doing math in his bulbous head. “Three hundred and twelve.”
“Where are they?” Robbie asked. “Did you put them back?”
“No, they’re in stasis,” Noah said. “Like you guys were. It was going to be a surprise! People selected for different genetic markers and professions. I pulled them out just before it all went down. Don’t any of you understand? I saved the human race.”
“Nope,” Paul said, “not good enough. I’m going to kill him.”
“Hang on, Paul,” Robbie said. “Let me guess: If we don’t let you go, they stay where they are?”
“I can’t release them if I’m not there.”
Robbie’s eyes met with Paul’s. It looked as if the only thing staying the preacher’s wrath was Robbie’s request that he not execute their visitor. A part of him wanted to let Paul do it and wash his hands of the whole mess. But he couldn’t do that, not if Noah was telling the truth this time.
“We let you go,” Robbie said, “and you do . . . what? Drop the other three hundred and twelve where you found them like you did to us?”
“I don’t have to. Where do you want them?”
Robbie turned around. “Paul, if he makes a move for the roach motel, shoot him. Touré?”
He waved Touré over to him. Touré arrived to the huddle, reluctant, looking devastated.
“What do you think?” Robbie asked. “Should we believe him?”
Touré shook his head. “No, man,” he said. “I’m done guessing about right and wrong now.”
“Hey,” Robbie said, trying for a laugh. “Come on. You’re the guy who thought the apocalypse was cool. Give me an angle or a story. What’s your spin?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Nothing?” Robbie asked.
“We just murdered the human race, Robbie. I don’t think I trust us to get this right.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Robbie said. “You’re a big help.”
“Sorry, but I’m done.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Carol said, quietly.
“What’s that?” Robbie asked.
“I said, we don’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice, Carol,” Robbie said.
He turned around to consider Noah again.
Robbie had never in his life wanted to see another living creature murdered before him, so what he was experiencing in that moment was completely new. More than that: He wanted to do it himself.
He didn’t like the feeling.
“Ten a month,” Robbie said to Noah. “That’s what we want. Starting next week. Put them in the middle of Cambridge Common. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely,” Noah said.
“Start with medical professionals.”
“Of course.”
“Robbie—” Paul said.
“Paul, we have nothing to lose that we haven’t already lost,” Robbie said. “If we let him go and he’s lying, we lose. If you pull the trigger, we lose.”
“I think we’ve already lost,” Paul said. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“Goddammit,” Win said. “No. He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right, Paul.”
Paul looked down the barrel of the shotgun at Noah again, and everyone held their breath. Robbie prepared himself to be okay with whatever choice the preacher made.
“All right,” Paul said, and lowered the gun. “Vengeance is the Lord’s. Although I’d rather claim it for myself.”
“Yeah, we all feel that way,” Robbie said.
“NO!” Bethany shouted. She had her gun pointed at Noah, tears streaming down her face. “No, you can’t!”
“Bethany—” Robbie began.
She pulled the trigger. Five times. But the gun didn’t go off. “I’m empty,” she cried. “Paul—”
“I think they’re right,” Paul said.
“No, you can’t.”
Carol found her way to Bethany, sat down, and gave the girl a shoulder to cry on.
“It’s okay,” Carol said, quietly.
Bethany sank her face into Carol’s shirt.
“So, um, we have a deal?” Noah asked. He climbed to his feet and brushed himself off.
“Yes,” R
obbie said.
Noah extended his hand. “Shake on it?” he asked.
Robbie thought if he got that close to Noah, he’d end up doing the same thing as Win, only nobody would stop him.
“Just remember the deal,” Robbie said.
“Cambridge Common,” Noah said. “You have my word.” He turned to Ananda. “And oh, hey, if you want, I can share some tech. There’s enough spare energy in this to power this whole world, if you want it.”
“Get away from us,” she said. “You’re not an advanced species. You’re a monster.”
“There are a lot of power-hungry civilizations who don’t feel that way, Ananda,” he said. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”
“Just go,” Robbie said. “Get the hell out of here.”
“All right,” he said. Noah retrieved the machine from the other end of the lot. “Ten a month, starting a week from today,” Noah said. “Be ready.”
With that, he pressed the little button on his doodad and vanished into the shadows.
Then the rains grew heavy, the winds raged, and it was time for all of them to seek shelter.
Epilogue
Touré
It was the third Saturday of July, and it was a gorgeous day.
Touré sat on a bench in front of the low wood barrier that marked the edge of the Garden Street side of Cambridge Common. Slung between two trees a few yards to his right, there was a big white banner that read:
WELCOME TO 2129!
The first thing everyone did, without fail, was laugh at the sign. Then they’d look around and stop laughing. Reactions after that varied. A lot of them screamed. Some broke down and cried. A few fainted.
Not one of them got up, looked around, and said, Oh, cool. Touré was dying for that to happen, just once, because he knew whoever did that was going to be his best friend for life.
They always came through lying down, wearing whatever they’d been taken away in. Thus far, thankfully, it had always been outdoor clothing. No pajamas or lingerie or straight-up nudity. That would have just made an awkward situation even worse than it already was.
The first ones through had it the toughest. None of the Apocalypse Seven had known what to expect, so after the initial shock and the screaming and crying, they didn’t have anything else to tell the new arrivals aside from, Sorry, but this is your life now.
They’d gotten marginally better at it since. Adding ten people a month was a huge challenge at first, because it took everybody about three months to stop freaking out and start being productive assets to the society they were trying to rebuild. Now, two years into the process, that society gained ten more useful people every month.
These days, Touré had an entire welcoming party organized, with grief counselors, a minister (Paul, usually), and some physicians. There was also food and water, and a housing assignment for the first night.
Pretty smooth operation, he thought.
He saw Bethany on the other side of the field. She waved hello and headed over. “Hey, dummy,” she greeted. “Looking sharp.”
“You too, little girl,” he said.
She stuck her tongue out, but smiled about it.
Bethany hardly walked with a limp anymore. The ankle didn’t heal correctly, but they’d gotten an orthopedist in a few months earlier, and he had some suggestions for how to help. Touré didn’t know how much of a physical change there had been, but she certainly seemed to be in better spirits about it.
They exchanged a quick hug. It was a far cry from back in the early days when they wanted to strangle each other. But a lot had happened since then.
Touré couldn’t help but notice how much Bethany was turning into an actual young adult. This became especially obvious once Noah’s collection of humans went from seasoned medical professionals and tenured scientists to genetically promising twenty- and thirty-somethings, because that was when Bethany became a regular member of the welcoming committee. More to the point, a lot of those twenty- and thirty-somethings noticed her too. She noticed them right back, although when Bethany flirted, she tended to stick to the women.
“How close are we?” she asked.
“Another half hour, I think.”
“Cool. I’m gonna talk up Rhoda. Back in a bit.”
She headed over to Rhoda, one of the nurse practitioners. Touré was nearly positive her name wasn’t really Rhoda, but that was what she was calling herself now. She’d shown up almost a year back speaking only Urdu. Like all of them, she’d come a long way in a year, but that was especially obvious for the folks who’d arrived not knowing any English.
Touré double-checked the time and laughed, because the watch on his wrist had the answer, and that was a remarkable thing. It had taken forever to get watches working and showing the correct date and time again.
Noah had provided them with a year and a month, but not a day. Ananda was able to figure out what a calendar for 2127 looked like, but couldn’t narrow it down to a specific day until the equinox. That involved recording the time of the sunrise and sunset every day, which required the use of a timepiece.
They had access to all the wind-up watches they wanted, but they were useless if nobody knew what time to set them for. However, Ananda just needed to record how long the day was; as long as she was using the same watch for both the sunrise and the sunset, nothing else mattered.
Frustratingly for Touré, finding the day of the equinox wasn’t as simple as marking down the first time the day was exactly twelve hours long; it turned out that wasn’t how equinoxes really worked. We don’t measure sunrise from when the middle of the sun first appears, Ananda said. Then she never elaborated, which was just annoying.
But anyway, it worked eventually. As soon as she figured out when the days had officially started getting shorter, she had the month, day, and year, and even the correct time, and they were set.
Some time over the course of these internal musings, Robbie showed up behind Touré’s bench.
“How much longer?” Robbie asked.
Touré didn’t know he was there, so he jumped up and yelped in surprise. “Hey! Dude! A little warning!”
“Sorry.”
“Ah, forget it.”
Touré embraced his friend. “How you doing, man?” he asked. “You never come out for these.”
“I know,” Robbie said. “It’s been a while.”
Robbie looked thin and ashen, which was actually an improvement. He had on sunglasses to hide the fact that he wasn’t getting a lot of sleep, which was also a step up; he got no sleep at all, for long stretches, for the first year after Noah. Then he and Touré stopped hanging out altogether, and Touré lost track of Robbie’s sleep cycle. Presumably, it had improved.
“Yeah, you can use the sun,” Touré said. “Get you running around, get the blood moving. How’s Carol?”
“She’s okay. Busy. We haven’t talked lately, but you know.”
“Sure.”
Robbie and Carol were either on-again, off-again, or were just so used to each other’s company that they didn’t know how to undo that more permanently. Nobody was sure, and nobody knew how to ask.
Carol was active, certainly. She’d been helping clear out the coywolves from the neighborhood by domesticating entire packs. Nobody was quite sure how she was doing it, but it worked; there hadn’t been an attack in thirteen months.
The pigs in Boston were a much larger problem. Win took the lead with that one, and she wasn’t making pets. There was a long way to go before the whole city was livable, but in the meantime, they had plenty of pork to go around.
Thankfully, there was other food now too. Post-Noah arrivals who knew what they were doing started growing vegetables and fruit. Touré stopped worrying that he was going to die from scurvy.
Robbie stepped around the bench and sat down with Touré, just staring at the middle of the park. It was a good choice, this location. Even in the middle of winter. Touré used to wonder if Robbie picked it because it was only a few y
ards where the three of them had first met. He never did get around to asking.
“What’s on your mind, man?” Touré asked. “Or do you just want to greet the new crew?”
“No, no, I’m not staying,” Robbie said. “Just popped in for a quick . . . It’s been a while since we talked, you and I.”
“Sure has!”
“So . . . yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot. About that day.”
He didn’t need to explain what day he was talking about.
“Sure,” Touré said.
Truthfully, that particular day was never far from Touré’s mind, either. It was probably the last thing he thought of when he went to bed at night, and the first thing to wake him up in the morning—and sometimes in the middle of the night—and he knew for a fact he wasn’t the only one who went through this.
Robbie, though . . . it’d hit him hardest.
“What about that day?” Touré asked.
“I was remembering that there were two of them,” Robbie said. “At the end. Do you remember?”
“The Tachyonites. Yeah.”
“I talked to Ananda. She thinks they were attempting to communicate at first. At first for them. You have to think about it backwards, right? The last time we saw them was the first time they saw us. There were two of them, and they were curious. What we saw after . . . was just one of them then. Trying to free the other one.”
“It really doesn’t help to dwell on this,” Touré said. “You know that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Robbie said. “But they weren’t aggressive. You understand? We did that.”
“It wasn’t us.”
“Right.”
“No, man, I mean it,” Touré said. “It wasn’t us. You can’t let yourself think that way.”
Robbie nodded just long enough to sell the point that he was going to keep right on dwelling on this.
Maybe we’ll get a psychiatrist in this next batch, Touré thought.
“What do you tell them?” Robbie asked.
“Who?”
“The new recruits. What do you tell them?”
“Are you talking about the patter?” Touré asked. “It’s pretty standard. Stick around and you’ll hear it live. Unless you want me to do it for you now.”
The Apocalypse Seven Page 37
