by A N Sandra
“We may be sorry about this,” Wesslan said. “But we do need their animals.”
Golda had been trying to convince the other half-Eternals to let her make more animals for more than a year. Her samples were ready. She had several from Cattu and at least one from every other totem animal she knew of except Ursu and Avem, and they had come to her! For months Golda had tested the effect that just her samples had on people, both mortal, and partially Eternal. The power her samples held frightened the others, and she had been ordered to stop when she was discovered discreetly slipping the boxes into different venues on the island.
“But they work!” Golda had argued with Celeste over the mortal girl’s dormitory. “The girls get along so well—”
“They work too well,” Celeste had answered grimly. “The girls managed to plot and get away with all kinds of mischief and now one is pregnant. They sent all kinds of food to the boys—”
“I didn’t think of that,” Golda admitted.
“The trouble with you is that you always think the mortals are more harmless than they really are,” Celeste scolded. “No matter how hard the power balance is with hundreds of people and only seven totem animals, it’s still workable. We have a society that is the envy of the world—”
“What is left of the world—”
“The power of the totem animals should not be trusted to mortals,” Celeste went on. Her eyes were fierce. “It was never, ever what our fathers intended. The worst thing would be if the Blood Drinkers take your ideas and replicate their snakes. The power they could amass… They’ve been destructive with the power they already have... We could all be pushed into the void!”
“We won’t let that happen,” Golda tried to say.
“No, we won’t,” Celeste answered firmly. “Because you are not to take your samples out of the laboratory or make any more samples. We’ll have a vote if you don’t comply.”
Golda did not promise to comply, but she wrestled a repentant look onto her face and muttered words under her breath that might have been taken for, “Fine.”
There was no chance that Golda would not take samples from Avem and Ursu, but she didn’t want to fight about it. She would guard the secrecy of her work with new fervor, because it was becoming more important than ever. Once she fully understood her samples, she would use them to grow new animals. She had no idea how she would do it, but she was sure it must be possible. After all, people who were part Eternal could have children, but the animal pets their Eternal fathers had brought them never reproduced. In fact, they seemed to have no urges in that direction at all.
“Life begets life,” Golda said firmly to herself. “It’s possible somehow.”
Chapter 6
October 7th, Interior Alaska Homestead
Helena could see the morning stars glowing through the lightly falling snow as she followed her father through the forest to the moose stand he had set up. Peter walked softly behind her, and they each carried a .308 Winchester with scopes that had been carefully sighted in at two hundred yards.
“This way,” Mr. Harris guided them in a low voice as he ducked behind a tangle of leafless vines before climbing a ladder to his moose stand.
The three of them settled down onto the stand silently. Mr. Harris passed power bars out after they had been there almost an hour. Peter and Helena traded a look before unwrapping them, but both ate without complaint. More light came and the small clearing was easier to see. Some willow trees were at the edge, near a small swampy area, and Helena remembered seeing moose stripping willow bark and birch bark off trees the few times she had caught sight of them during the summer.
The bushes at the edge of the clearing gave way as three moose ambled through. With an almost natural reflex Helena lifted her gun, but looked to her father, who nodded, giving her permission to shoot.
With trembling hands Helena held the gun, sighting in the moose. One deep breath, and she squeezed the trigger before she could chicken out. Even though she had prepared herself for the blast she shook from the recoil as the shot rang through the previously silent forest. The scent of gunpowder filled the air, and a moose was lying silent on the forest floor. The other two were completely gone.
“That was fast,” Peter said, his voice filling the air that seemed extra quiet after the noise from the gunshot.
“Come on.” Joel led the way down the ladder from the stand. Slightly dazed, Helena followed after Peter.
Mr. Harris had a hacksaw and a knife in his pack. Peter and Helena watched in awe as he quickly skinned the moose with practiced skill.
“Keeping the meat clean, and cooling and gutting it properly will make a big difference in how it tastes later,” he told them.
Peter handed tools to Mr. Harris as he asked for them. The field dressing ended with the moose in several large pieces. Some to take home, some to come back for. The three of them carried sections of the moose in pack frames. Mr. Harris hung the rest of the carcass from a tree, saying they would make another trip back for it shortly. Helena was sure that her piece was much heavier than the pack she had carried when they’d first come to Alaska. She wished she had a walking stick as she took her first few steps toward home.
“That was wicked, the way you took the moose apart like that,” Peter said as they left the clearing. “You’ve done that before.”
“I’ve done it many times,” Mr. Harris said. “My father was a big game hunter. I’ve hunted moose in Canada and Alaska, once close to this spot with him. I’ve hunted grizzly bears and wolves here too.”
“Really?” Helena was surprised. “How come you never talk about it?”
“It’s been hard to talk about how much I miss my father,” Mr. Harris said simply. “I went hunting with him most of my life, and he died hunting lions in Africa.”
“Did a lion kill him?” Peter wanted to know. Helena had never known this. She tried to look at her father without staring.
“A Congo soldier killed him,” Mr. Harris sighed. “My mother did everything she could to keep it from the mainstream press so that the situation wouldn’t be amplified. She didn’t want to make a murderer famous. Less than a year after he was killed, she passed away. You were only two years old, Helena.”
“Did she die of a broken heart?” Helena asked. Her imagination was aroused.
“She was already battling breast cancer. She probably would have died sooner rather than later anyway. The treatment wasn’t as good then as it is now. But yes, her broken heart probably caused her to give up.”
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Helena felt tears come to her eyes for the grandparents she had never known.
“She loved you very much,” Mr. Harris said. “She couldn’t see you much because her health wasn’t up to it, but she was always so happy to see pictures of you. Your grandfather would have been so proud of you for killing the moose with your first shot. I can’t even tell you how proud he would be.”
“I want the first shot next time,” Peter said.
“Since you behaved yourself with me today you can go with Duane tomorrow, but he may want the first shot at anything you see.”
“Naw, Duane isn’t selfish,” Peter said.
“No, he isn’t,” Helena agreed. “He’s a good guy.”
“Are you coming tomorrow?” Peter wanted to know.
“Maybe,” Helena said. “It’s hard to get up so early.”
Privately Helena thought it would be worth it to get up at any time to get out of her mother’s house and spend time with Duane. She probably would go, even if it wouldn’t be her turn to shoot at anything. The moose on her back was heavy.
“I wonder how you cook moose meat?” she said out loud.
“We have a meat grinder. You could make moose burgers,” Peter said.
“That sounds kind of good,” Helena answered. “I could make moose prime rib too. We could have mashed potatoes and moose gravy.”
“We could,” Mr. Harris said. “We’ll have to cure this meat for a coup
le of weeks before we eat it anyway. My mother had elegant dinner parties where she served meat my father and I had hunted. She had one where she served a roast of mountain goat, and she really knocked everyone’s socks off.”
“Are we going to kill any mountain goats?” Helena was intrigued.
“Look at you, all ready to become a garden warrior slash goat huntress,” Peter said.
“I like it,” Helena told him. “Great new title.”
Moving through the forest silently took effort, but every morning that she went hunting Helena got better at it. She learned to shift so that she was always facing the wind, because hunting with the wind at your back is pointless. With good hunting partners, silent communication became second nature to Helena. The feel of the Winchester strapped across her back gave her security in the woods.
The storage building became a sort of meat locker and there were moose and Dall sheep curing. Miss Jan set up her art studio in the back and it was fun to see her painting a large color saturated canvas wearing a warm jacket with several carcass pieces hanging in the background.
“When will we start art lessons with Miss Jan?” Helena asked her mother, trying to put off doing math for one more minute.
“When you are finished hunting should be a good time,” Christina told her. “You’re missing a lot of studying now.”
“But getting fresh meat is important,” Helena pouted. “So is art.”
“Neither of those things are as important as math or science,” Christina said.
“I don’t agree at all,” Helena argued. “Tonight, I’m going to cook a moose roast for the first time ever, then you might see how important hunting is. I don’t like to eat canned chicken.”
“No one likes to eat canned chicken,” Peter said. He was sitting in front of the laptop wearing headphones, so Helena hadn’t known he was even listening. “Can we have mashed potatoes with the moose roast? Can you make them the way Maria did with that little something…? No one else ever has mashed potatoes like that.”
“Pay attention to your school work,” Christina said.
“She used nutmeg in the mashed potatoes,” Helena said at the exact same time. Christina gave her a stern look and the two of them put their heads down to study.
Chapter 7
October 7th, Kern County, CA
Brooke showed Joshua around the compound. It took longer than he would have guessed. The compound was made up of four underground Air Force hangars that Hollister Youth Foundation had been told to collapse and remove, but instead had disguised and taken over for their headquarters.
The hangar Joshua had entered held offices and vehicles.
“This is the motor pool,” Brooke had shown him in the dim light. “Now we’ll go through this tunnel. Just get used to it, we don’t have a light in here.”
Following Brooke through the tunnel was worse than the haunted house Michael and Rachel had taken him to when he was nine. Just like he had ten years ago he pretended he wasn’t slightly claustrophobic and kept moving. The floor wasn’t perfectly smooth. He bumped into Brooke and discovered she wasn’t wearing deodorant. In desert heat.
“This is our main living area,” Brooke told Joshua.
The tunnel had emptied into a large common room with sun lamps, potted plants, lots of living room furniture, and even some musical instruments in a far corner. Large swatches of carpet remnants were scattered about to make the atmosphere cozier, but to Joshua it looked as different from home as something could. A big screen TV was playing a movie that a few people were watching. Joshua followed Brooke to a huge kitchen.
“Those of us here eat breakfast and dinner together and there are boxed lunches. Joanie cooks,” Brooke pointed to another athletic woman working in the kitchen. No one in the living area had even looked toward them and Joshua couldn’t figure out if people were ignoring him on purpose or if no one had noticed a new person. The kitchen smelled like spaghetti sauce at the moment. “Different people help her at different times.”
There were several areas for sleeping. No one seemed to have their own bedroom but the most people in a room appeared to be six and the bathrooms were spacious.
“We don’t really have male or female bathrooms, but unofficially you can tell that the ones that smell better are used and cleaned by women,” Brooke allowed herself to crack a small smile. “Men who use the women’s bathrooms because they are nicer need to help keep them nice.”
“I’ll remember that.” Joshua grinned back. It would never have occurred to him to use the girl’s bathroom at home. All his sisters were makeup junkies and they kept hair straighteners turned to dangerously high settings. Jael had once gone to the hospital from a burn from one. None of the girl bathrooms here seemed to have much makeup, although there were extra “products” in those bathrooms.
Joshua could hear the pounding music from the gym before Brooke opened the door. The smell of sweat and the clink of weights settling against each other brought back flashes of the weight room over the Blythe High School locker room. The people working out didn’t seem to notice the visitors.
“Everyone works out at least an hour a day. Curtis makes no exceptions,” Brooke said. “We can’t afford to be unhealthy. We don’t have a doctor at all. We have a physician’s assistant, and several people who are CNA’s but no doctors. We eat right and we exercise.”
Another tunnel led to the third underground hangar, which turned out to be a huge hydroponic garden. Josh was momentarily blinded by the lamps putting out artificial sunlight. The people working in the garden wore shorts and tank tops. They were very tan and fit. Joshua had graduated from high school two years before. He went running a few times a week when he didn’t work at the quarry, and he played basketball with Back Pasture in Joyce’s driveway sometimes, but he could see he would have to step up his level of fitness.
“We don’t really need this food now,” Brooke said. “But we need to have systems in place to grow it and know how to rotate and cook with it later.”
The fourth hangar was the largest of all, and in the dim light Joshua could see that it was more than halfway full of food and other supplies.
“Costco has nothing on this place,” Joshua muttered.
“It may have to last a really long time,” Brooke pointed out. “This fall is the last harvest.”
Joshua hadn’t looked at it that way. He thought of the extra cattle trucks, hay trucks, and Global Forces supply trucks he had seen last summer caravanning down rural highways all over the North State. It had seemed like overkill at the time, but now Joshua put it in perspective. That food would have to feed Global Forces for years after the coming plague.
“We hope to fill it up this fall,” Brooke went on. “You probably didn’t notice but there was a nice cannabis crop back in the garden hangar. It’s the top variety in the world. We don’t smoke pot, we don’t drink, but we use pot to help deliveries make their way here.”
“This place is amazing,” Joshua said. Not just what the group had managed to build, but how different they were as a group from the Hollister Youth Foundation workers in Shasta or Lassen country. The youth workers Joshua had seen previously looked like the lost teenagers they were. This group of people looked like career soldiers in their early twenties at least.
“I know,” Brooke said. “The buzzer’s going to go off. Let’s go eat.”
The buzzer sounded like a school bell. It went off before Joshua and Brooke could get to the mess hall and people streamed around them as they went. Everyone wore some kind of grey camouflage, and everyone had short hair, both men and women. Joshua noted that no one said hello to him. Although Brooke sat by him for dinner, she didn’t make any personal conversation, and Joshua took her lead.
The spaghetti and salad were tasty enough, but people all around Joshua and Brooke were engaged in conversation and no one even asked Joshua’s name. From the day he had started kindergarten Joshua had been popular. Bryan had been in his class, so he had started with hi
s cousin as his best friend, but he had known many of the other children from church and community activities. The older children in school had given him automatic respect. He was Caleb and Michael’s younger brother, and they were star athletes and good guys.
Chewing his food with the calming influence of the box, Joshua was forced to admit to himself that one reason he had been unwilling to go away to college was to avoid this very situation. He didn’t want to be an outsider. Back Pasture had made him important the way that being a good tailback and a star basketball forward had made him important. He loved the feeling of being the center of whatever activity he was involved in.
“This is just temporary,” Joshua muttered to himself.
“Hmm?” Brooke asked.
“Nothing,” Joshua told her. Either everyone will get over their problem or I will find a way to leave.
“I have a few things to say.” Curtis stood at the head of one of the long tables. “But I’ll be quick.”
The small noises that came from a group of people ceased. Even noises from the kitchen stopped. Joshua turned to see that Joanie was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Even though it’s still hotter than hell outside, fall is coming up quick,” Curtis said. “One reason we’re doing so well is that this place is even too hot for the devil.”
Lots of people laughed and nodded. It was hot in the desert above, but Joshua got the impression that the people in the group would have agreed with Curtis if he had said there were penguins outside.
“We have to stand together, we have to watch each other’s backs, we need to finish the work outlined for us at the job sites, and we need to still be a team when we’re done. What’s coming up is beyond all our imaginations. We are about to witness human carnage and things that no veteran with PTSD has ever seen, and we’re going to have to be ready. An hour a day is the least you can be working out. If you see someone who needs help, help them. The most important thing is don’t let your thinking get weak now. Don’t start to get tired before the big show. The big show is coming, and we still have plenty to do to get ready. Keep an eye on each other; keep your own thoughts in line. It’s not all about you, it’s about the group. Put the group first, so that when things get tough, the group has your back.”
