Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy Book 3)

by Rachel Fisher

  “You awake, baby?” Asher murmured, noticing her open eyes. “Can I get you something? Something to eat maybe?”

  She could hear the pleading in his voice and if she’d still been able to care, she would’ve felt guilty. But the “nothing” had control. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She heard him sigh and once again her ears began to prick up, acutely aware of small sounds. She’d spent so much time on alert in the past that it was a natural reaction to closing her eyes.

  There was the scratch of the door as Squeak slipped into the room. There was the creak of Asher’s chair as he shifted. She could even hear the whir of the air circulating. It sounded like a giant breathing, she thought, with a giggle. It was like they were in his chest as the air flowed in and out of his humongous lungs.

  “What’s funny?” Asher asked.

  Her eyes flew open. Was something funny? Now she couldn’t recall. She shook her head. It felt like a bowling ball.

  “Why did you leave her, Fi? You never should have left her!”

  She sat straight up and whirled, but her father wasn’t there.

  ----------------- Asher ----------------

  “Did you hear that?”

  Fi’s eyes were wide, the dark half-moons beneath like bruises against her chalky skin. They fluttered, darting and jerking. Asher shivered. “Hear what, baby?”

  He kept his tone to a murmur, but it probably didn’t matter. She rarely heard him when he spoke anymore, no matter the volume. Her head swung to him and her eyes narrowed.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, turning away.

  Asher’s stomach clenched. She’d been unwilling or unable to eat much for weeks and she’d lost her milk. He and Squeak had been taking shifts feeding Luke the formula they’d found in the dried food storage. Thank God didn’t really cover how he’d felt the moment that they did. Since then he’d sometimes lain awake at night, shaking, his mind playing a reel of them not finding the formula over and over again.

  He knew that Fi was completely exhausted. She hadn’t slept longer than an hour without awakening to her own screams, and she hadn’t gotten out of bed for longer than it took to visit the bathroom since Luke was born. The one time he’d tried to get her to leave her pod she’d caught sight of Eve and started whimpering, “Take me back!” over and over until he’d had no other choice.

  All she wanted to do all day was curl into a ball. He and Squeak were taking shifts sleeping next door with Luke so that her screams wouldn’t disturb him. At least, he did that when he slept. Some nights he just walked the colony with Luke, letting the crunch of glass beneath his feet and stench of rot in his nose be his meditation, his focus.

  He’d walk the labs to close his eyes and envision her there, goggles around her neck, flushed and jabbering a mile a minute about some chemical assay something-or-other. Then he’d open his eyes and take it like a punch in his gut all over again. The labs looked like a bomb had gone off in them. In fact, some may have been bombed, given the scorch marks and shrapnel buried in the cabinets.

  When he was feeling especially dark he’d go sit with Eve, kneeling beside her bones in the center of Eden. He’d lean against her trunk and close his eyes and remember: Fi, tugging an apple from a branch and tossing it to him…Fi, giggling wickedly before she launched her leftover core into the fields like she’d learned from the colony’s leader, Larry.

  He couldn’t forget it, the way she’d stood beside the tree and stroked it like a favorite pet, her hair loose to her waist, her eyes shining. It was the first moment that he’d seen her look…innocent. Like she could’ve been an undamaged girl: the kind who grew up safe and happy, dreaming of movie-perfect futures…the kind who still believed that the world was a wonderful place. It had been a relief to see something besides anger and burden burning in her eyes. But now he would take anger and burden again. Now, her eyes didn’t burn at all.

  She wouldn’t allow him to sleep with her, or to offer comfort. Not anymore, anyway. The first two weeks she had really tried to fight through the exhaustion. But it was a battle of attrition. Every day she grew more fatigued, thinner, and sicker.

  And now this new development: the strange murmurs and giggles…the way she seemed to hear things he didn’t, or fix her gaze on nothing. She’d mumble stuff to her father... Don’t people who get too little sleep start to lose their minds? His throat closed. He grabbed the radio, handing Luke to Squeak before he ran from the room.

  He slipped into the next pod and began to tune to Sean’s frequency and then stopped. This is stupid, he thought. The likelihood that Sean and Sara were within range of a station was extremely low. But if he did get them, the sound of the radio could put them in danger. What if they were close to the Truthers? What if they were hiding and his emotional decision put them at risk? Could he live with it?

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. The image of Fi’s wasting body and staring eyes filled his mind and he sucked in. There was no decision. He flicked on the radio. “Sean?” he whispered. “Sara? Are you there?”

  For a moment there was silence and Asher prayed. In fact, he prayed more fervently than he could ever remember having prayed. The end of his rope had already passed through his hands and now he was in free-fall.

  “Asher?” Sean’s voice came through. “What are you doing? Is everything ok?”

  He heard the frustration in Sean’s voice. This wasn’t the plan. Sean and Sara were supposed to contact him, not the other way around. He fought the knot in his throat. “No, Sean. It’s not. I think…I think that Fi’s dying.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about, Asher?”

  “She’s not getting any sleep at all.” His voice wobbled. “She won’t eat, she won’t even feed Luke, and she doesn’t respond when he cries. She’s wasting away, Sean, and now…” He swallowed a sob. How could he actually say it? But that’s why I did this, wasn’t it? he thought. He took a breath. “I think she’s actually starting to lose her mind.”

  There was a long pause and Asher debated whether he was losing his own mind. If he were Sean, that’s probably what he’d think. But after all he’d been through, after all of the bloodshed and fighting, there was nothing he could do to beat back the darkness claiming his wife. His helplessness was an anchor, linking him to her as she slid farther over the edge.

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  Sean’s voice was flat and Asher cursed, his hands shaking. There was nowhere for this energy to go. Nothing for him to do. He just wanted to kill something, to take a clean slice with his blade and watch something disintegrate, just like him. “I don’t know,” he said. “You just have to find them. I don’t know how much longer she can hang on, Sean. I’m losing her. She’s slipping away.”

  His breath caught as the words left his mouth. His worst fears were no longer just maddening loops in his mind. They were whole. Concrete. I’m losing her. She’s slipping away.

  The speaker crackled and Sara’s voice came through, firm and strong. “Asher! We just met a traveler who said he saw them. He didn’t want to get involved, but he said none of them seemed to be harmed. We thought it would be two weeks to catch up to them, but we’ll redouble our efforts.”

  A wave of relief buckled him, and he sank against the wall and to the floor. They were alive! He blinked back the tears that seemed to be ignoring his efforts to corral them. He clicked the button on the radio, almost surprised to find it still clutched in his hand. “I’m sorry, guys. I know I put you in danger. And I know you’re already trying your hardest…”

  Sara’s voice was firm. “We promise you, Ash. We’re going to find them.”

  He dropped the radio, put his head in his hands, and sobbed.

  Countdown

  ------------- Carter ---------------

  “Welcome, Initiates!”

  Carter’s voice rang out through the loudspeakers over the settlement. Though he would have loved to give this speech to them in person, Silas had agreed that it might be too risky. For
now, the colonists were too angry and likely to be riled up. Since Silas was never afraid of anything, Carter had acquiesced. Besides, he thought, swaying in his chair in the tiny radio room, it was freezing out there. A smile curled his lips, tugging at his thick, white beard.

  He leaned forward over the microphone. “Today is your first official day on the path of Truth!”

  His heart leapt as he finally began the address that he’d been delivering in his imagination for every minute since Silas had informed him that Eden had been found. Now that the day had arrived, he really did wish he could be in front of his audience so he could watch them squirm. Surely he would be safe, seeing as the “initiates” were not only guarded, but also secured behind barbed wire. Oh well, he thought, he’d have to take it up with Silas again. He took a deep breath and forged ahead, warmed by the satisfaction of a dream made real.

  “From this day forward you will be sustained on a life of faith, nourished by the Word. You will not be harmed or mistreated while you are here with us at Camp Truth.”

  Too bad, he thought. If he’d had his way he’d just have let Silas have his. For a split second he paused, enjoying the image of Silas unleashing his creativity on these sanctimonious liars.

  “You will be given adequate food and shelter, but you will not be permitted to leave. This is your initiation period with us. For those of you who wish to leave your secure encampment and join the settlement, you have only to convert. For those of you who continue to reject the Truth, you will have only sixty days with us, after which time, you will be taken south and dispersed into the Wasteland.”

  Carter let that sink in. Dammit, he wished he could see their faces! This was just like with Diaspora I: all that sneaking and hiding. He never got to step up and announce his presence, to say, “Hey, assholes, who’s selected for death now?” A giggle rose in his throat and he coughed. That was how he’d always imagined it, “Who’s selected for death now?”

  But he hadn’t been able to do that. Instead it had been two minutes of getting past security with his ID badge and winning smile and weeks of hiding in the support tunnels, alone, scrabbling like a rat, until the time came. When they were settled in, going to school, watching movies, spinning up trouble in their labs…when they were sure the world above had devolved into flame and agony. THEN he would strike. He’d lulled them to sleep and then the day came. That day they were the rats, abandoning their foundering ship.

  He’d tiptoed out of the tunnels to the seals, begging the codes to be the same that he’d learned for the unsealing sequence originally. They were taught this in case of emergency. If the colony needed to be abandoned, they couldn’t very well be trapped inside. When the code worked he felt his confidence returning. These people were morons. They didn’t deserve to live. That’s what he told himself as he blew all the seals, swinging the doors wide with a burning in his veins so strong that he was sure he would combust.

  He’d thought he would watch the Liars as they scattered, a salve to the burn of his rage. But he didn’t in the end. The first few groups to leave were crying, their faces puffy and red even from a distance, but his eyes fixed on the screaming children in their arms. The image, no, the thought, of children dying didn’t lessen his sense of justice, but it did increase his respect for their loss…for their sacrifice. Forgive the grownups, children, he’d thought, for they know not what they do.

  That was what made him turn away, what stole the ultimate satisfaction from his grasp. He’d shed his disguise and walked due East, directly into the Great Plains of the United States, just as it became the world’s largest new desert. No one noticed him or followed him, though he wouldn’t have cared if they did.

  His survival was a matter of instinct. Where his mind would have happily severed its bonds with this Earth, his body refused, forcing bitter lizards, peeled strips of cacti, and acid, piss-water from Godforsaken holes down his throat. Finally, on his knees in the mud, his eyes scratched and burning with dust, his stomach as pinched as a bad pea, the thought of Diaspora II floated into his mind.

  It jerked his will to life, choking and guttering like an old lawn mower, until the engine spun again and the blades swung, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, and the thought of revenge drew him forward on tottering legs. That and the photograph in his pocket. It couldn’t have weighed a thing and yet it was lead against his chest, smacking and bruising him with every movement.

  “Father?” Silas’ brow was furrowed.

  “Yes, sorry,” Carter said, startled. “Just enjoying the moment.” He grinned. That was actually pretty true. Would he like to see his prisoners squirm? Of course. But this time at least he got to announce himself, got to say, “I did this to you.” That was pretty satisfying. And even without seeing them, he knew that they now felt the clock ticking.

  Obviously, it didn’t matter to him if they “converted” or not, he was just giving them time to appease his followers. He knew that most, if not all, of the Eden colonists would reject his doctrine. In fact, he was counting on it. And he would derive great pleasure from seeing them marched into the Wasteland and abandoned. Maybe this time he would stay and watch.

  Of course some of them might convert, which would almost be more amusing. What if he could convince these idiots to reject everything that they believed in? How great would his own power be once Eden and Diaspora were no more? His mind drifted for a moment to Diaspora II. That would be a greater challenge, for sure. Never mind, he thought, shaking it off. One thing at a time.

  He cleared his throat. “Now, you may think that we are cruel, that we’re using coercion and not true open-mindedness to allow you to make up your minds. And yet, here we will give you food in a world that is dying for scraps. Here, you will be safe, guarded by our Angels of the Lord. Here, you will be given the Word, and a settlement filled with people of faith will await you, if only you can open your hearts. What you may see as cruel, we see as the greatest gift we can possibly give you: a chance to repent.”

  Silas murmured approval from the corner where he sat in the shadows, his arms folded. Unlike Nona, Silas rarely joined Carter in the radio room for broadcasts. But today was different. Today, Silas was one step closer to the thing that Carter knew he wanted the most, total power over the security of the new world. He smiled at his lead attack dog. How fortunate that he’d seen the promise in this disturbed excuse for a man.

  When Silas had found their settlement, he’d been a walking skeleton. Otherwise, Carter was quite sure that things would have gone differently. But unlike most of his “Angels,” Silas wasn’t stupid. Ruthless, yes. Soulless, yes. But not stupid. He saw what Carter was doing with the “Movement,” with his power of persuasion, and he struck a deal. He promised to serve as security and hatchet man if needed, and in exchange he’d be Carter’s “Number One” when they took over the new world.

  It was a tenuous agreement, born of greed and necessity, but it held. The truth was Carter needed Silas, and he knew it. Someone had to do the dirty work of the Movement. And if Silas wanted to be more than just another wild dog roaming the wilderness, he needed Carter. For now, anyway.

  Carter’s attention shifted back to his address. “As you settle in to your new home, I ask only that you remain peaceful and reflective. And now, for the last thing.” He paused, taking a sip of his water. A childish corner of him wished for a drum roll. It would be so…right. “I ask the Angels to bring me the one who sought immortality. Bring me Dr. Darryl Heil.”

  Twenty minutes later, Carter sat at the wooden table in his cabin as a small, dark-haired man was ushered into the room, his hands bound with a cable tie.

  Silas led Dr. Darryl Heil to the chair opposite Carter and shoved him down. “This is the one, Father.”

  “Thank you. You may leave us.”

  Silas’ eyebrows rose for a second, and then he nodded and turned, before stopping at the door. “Oh, and Father? I wanted to let you know the Underground reported that Jeron and Terry have settled into their posts with th
e outlying followers.”

  Carter frowned. “What? Why on Earth did you send them out there this deep into the winter? I didn’t order that.”

  “Yes, well they have to realize that they can’t cause havoc and come back empty handed and expect the cushy jobs. Not on my team.” Silas crossed his arms. “It is my team, right, Carter?”

  Carter bristled. Silas didn’t have to use that tone with him, or his first name for that matter. Especially in front of the Liar. He regarded Silas with a raised brow and then shifted his gaze to Heil. He had more important concerns than Silas and his struggle for independence. And he supposed that sending Jeron and Terry out to guard the families farthest from the settlement was a fair punishment. “Yes, Silas, of course the Angels are your team.”

  “And you trust me to run it, right?”

  “Of course. I just wish you had run it by me, that’s all.” He sighed. Keeping Silas under wraps was enough of an effort. He should just let Silas keep the others under control as he saw fit.

  “Good. Because I’m not doing this for my health, Father.” Silas left in a huff.

  Carter turned his gaze to Darryl and tilted his head, examining the man who had caused this whole mess. The kernel of frustration left in his chest from his disagreement with Silas seemed to grow the longer he stared at the little man. How was it possible that someone so sniveling, so insignificant, could be the culprit? It was almost inconceivable.

  His mind flew to another small creature — an innocent, lying still in the folds of silk, arms crossed as if cold… His breathing grew ragged as the familiar red film of rage colored his vision. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, poised in anticipation. The Hammer of God.

  Though Carter could see anxiety in Darryl’s dark eyes, he also saw that his chin was held high. His mistake, Carter thought. That pride is his downfall. “Dr. Heil,” he began, “how are your compatriots settling into their new home?”