Botanicaust

by Linsey, Tam

  The sound of her rummaging in the pack near his head gave him comfort. He opened his eyes, wanting one look without her knowing he was awake yet.

  A dark skinned man crouched on the other side of the basket, digging through the emergency kit. Patterns of slashing scars covered his face and shoulders.

  Cannibals.

  A surge of fear shot through Levi and he rolled onto his back. Bolts of agony filled his vision with stars as he hit the burn on his shoulder. As his vision spun, he blinked to see a female cannibal standing over him, long brown hair straggling in multiple braids around her head. Symmetrical raised scars grotesquely covered her tanned cheeks and forehead. Strapped to her back, a dark skinned toddler peeked over her shoulder.

  “No!” He expected a knife at any moment, and rolled the other way, landing on his wrist. Pain shattered his consciousness again.

  At the sound of a baby crying, the slimy fish slipped from Tula’s grip for the twentieth time. Why was a baby in the desert? Leaving the fish, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the hollow where she’d left Levi. And the knife, she realized. How could she be so careless? Smoke drifted lazily upward from the campfire, and she kicked herself for leaving it burning. Of course, if cannibals were about, they would spot the fire. She’d led them right to a helpless Levi.

  Creeping toward the camp, she prepared herself for the worst. Maybe they hadn’t killed him yet. Mo told stories of cannibals leaving their victims alive to transport them. But at this stage, Levi couldn’t even walk. They had no reason to let him live.

  Next to the fire, a woman sat cross-legged with her back to Tula, brown hair in small braids down her back. The tiny feet of a child hung off one side of her lap as she nursed. Levi lay where Tula had left him, either unconscious or dead.

  Certainly this woman didn’t travel alone? Easing forward a tiny bit more, Tula looked past a stand of amarantox. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the little noises the woman sang to her child. Maybe she could rush in and overpower the woman while she was occupied with the baby.

  When she turned away from the camp, a pair of dark-skinned feet splayed across the red rock directly in front of her. The sharp tip of a spear pressed the hollow between her neck and collarbone. Her muscles seized.

  Without moving anything but her eyes, she let her sight travel up the legs and body to a man’s face. His skin was covered with light lines of keloid scarification. Tufts of kinky hair stood out around his head. He wore a loose loincloth made of some sort of skin. And the point of his spear was very sharp.

  “What are you?” Cannibal dialect, but she understood well enough.

  Dry air rasped in and out of her throat, but no words. Caught. Cannibals caught her, again. Her worst nightmares ended just like this. Remember to bluff. Don’t show weakness. “I am Haldanian Protectorate?” The words came out more of a question than a threat.

  “You a flame runna.” He cocked his head and looked her over.

  She swallowed. Her voice trembled. “No. I’m a doctor.”

  “Get up.” He pulled the spear back gesturing her to gain her feet. “Osula!”

  Next to the fire, the woman rose in a single fluid motion, baby still attached to her breast, and looked toward them. She backed up a step when she saw Tula, her eyes going to the sky. “Flame runnas?”

  “I have a … fish.” Tula pointed behind her, hoping to give the cannibals food to distract them. She didn’t know the word for fish in cannibal, only what Levi had told her in his language.

  The man tensed at her movement and glanced where she pointed. He looked at her slime and dirt crusted hands and nodded. “Get it.”

  Backing up a few steps, Tula sidled toward where she’d dropped the fish. Red dirt covered the once gray sides. She kept her eye on the cannibal as she bent to retrieve her catch.

  He twitched the spear back toward the fire, and Tula complied. At the camp, the leaves plastering Levi’s shoulder were gone, leaving the healing pink skin exposed.

  Tula dropped the fish and rushed to his side. The ground was littered with peeled cattail shoots. “Levi, did they hurt you?”

  His eyes were closed tight in pain. “Run.”

  That one word evoked a wash of helpless memories, and her entire body trembled so violently she fell to her knees beside him. She wouldn’t leave him. Her brother’s screams echoed through her memory. She turned her head to face the cannibals. “Take the fish. Just leave us alone. Take whatever you want.”

  The woman looked between Tula and Levi. Ritually scarred over her face and down her pale breasts, her expression was fierce. But she wasn’t immediately hostile. “This your man?”

  “Yes.” Tula whispered. “Please don’t hurt us.”

  The man snorted and handed a bundle of leaves to the woman. “He already dying.”

  “He is not dying!” Tula gritted. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Brin,” the woman clipped. She nodded at Tula. “You got the green. You from the flame runnas. How come you up here?”

  Tula met the woman’s eye. “I ran away. I saved him.”

  The cannibal man held his spear loosely toward Tula. “You a healer.”

  The technicality of a medical doctor versus a psychiatric doctor would be impossible to explain to a cannibal. “Yes.”

  “You got no medicine bag.” His eyes scanned her near nakedness and Tula fought the urge to cover herself.

  “My things were in there.” She pointed to the basket, now overturned.

  The woman shook her head. She plucked a small pouch from her waist, and Tula saw her entire belt hung with such bundles. “She ain’t no healer. He got fever in his blood. What you got to trade?”

  “Trade?”

  “I got fever tea. And medicine for infection.” The woman’s eyes slid to the fire, where a tightly woven basket steamed next to the coals.

  Tula had never met a cannibal healer before. She didn’t know they existed. And they were willing to trade? What did cannibals want? “I brought fish.”

  Glancing down, the man toed the dirty carcass.

  The woman acknowledged the catch with a nod. “Good. We talk trade while we eat.”

  The man scooped up the fish and carried it to the fire. With the knife Tula had left at camp, he deftly split the body and arranged it on sticks over the coals.

  Tula’s attention wasn’t on the man or the fish. As the scent of cooking fish filled the camp, she watched the woman cover Levi’s burn with a clear salve and then plaster leaves over it. Even with the baby tied against her chest, the woman worked with such confidence, Tula didn’t say a word. All her days as a Conversion Psychiatrist, she’d never imagined witnessing such skill and compassion from a cannibal, especially for a stranger.

  Taking the steaming basket from the fire, the woman stirred it. Then she removed the leaves binding Levi’s wrist. The pain must have roused Levi, because he struggled. “Run. Tula, go.”

  She leaned forward. “Shh, Levi. She is a doctor.” She put her mouth over his.

  Red lines ran from the wound up his arm like small rivers from a lake. The woman clicked her tongue. “Takes strong medicine to fight fever once it in the blood. It gets to the heart, he dies.”

  “Can you help him?” Tula knew the woman’s words were true. She was surprised the cannibal knew so much about infection. They were supposed to be ignorant. Maybe not all of them. Their ancestors had been smart enough to survive the Botanicaust, after all.

  “I have astra root. Very potent. Very hard to find. I use it on your man, you give good trade.”

  Relief flooded Tula. “If you save him, whatever I have is yours.”

  “Eat.” Brin pointed to the fish in Tula’s hands. They sat near the fire, Osula and Brin sucking at the fine bones of the fish with relish. Even the baby, Heide, opened her mouth every time her mother lifted her hand to take a bite. Osula put a tiny flake on the child’s tongue, and the toddler smacked with pleasure.

  They also roasted t
he cattail roots Tula had gathered, and Brin pulled them out of the fire with a pair of sticks. He pushed one over to Tula. “Hot.”

  The sweet smell rising from the crack in the blackened husk had a not unpleasant perfume about it. “I don’t eat plants,” she said.

  They looked at her like she was insane. She was about to tell them she didn’t need to eat, but held back. Her differences were driving a wedge between them. Instead, she sniffed the bite of fish in her hand. Although she needed protein, she couldn’t make herself sample it. Prickles popped up all over her skin as Brin watched her suspiciously.

  Between her thumb and forefinger she pinched off a nibble and put it on her tongue. Her gag reflex bent her forward, but she forced it to the back of her throat. Without chewing, she swallowed the fish. Her stomach churned.

  “You tell us about flame runnas.”

  Tula tried to explain genetic modification, and how her skin worked to make food out of sunlight. She found herself using the rhetoric she used on her patients, and some of her previous zeal re-ignited. What if she could be an emissary for change to the cannibals as well as Levi’s people? She could convince people to convert before the Burn Operatives reached them. Cannibals would make pilgrimages to the Protectorate and beg for conversion.

  The idea of photosynthesis was fantastic to the couple, and Osula asked to touch her. She lifted Tula’s hand and sniffed, her strong fingers tracing knuckles and the softer flesh up Tula’s arm in curiosity. “Sweet. Like tamarisk flowers in spring.”

  Unsure of what tamarisk flowers smelled like, Tula pulled her hand back, nervous she smelled particularly delicious. “The Protectorate seeks to make things so no one needs to eat each other anymore.”

  Osula flicked some bones into the fire. “Then why do you destroy the land and waste the dead?”

  Embarrassed, Tula couldn’t meet their eyes. She was reminded of Bats on the Burn, holding his sister, and her plea to not be wasted. She thought of all the creatures she’d discovered living in the world, among the plants, creatures destroyed right along with the plants during a burn. Would the Burn Operatives even give Outsiders a chance to beg for conversion?

  “You don’t respect the Knowing,” Brin added.

  Glad for the change of subject, Tula asked, “What’s the Knowing?”

  The couple exchanged a glance. “You don’t know the Knowing?”

  Shaking her head, Tula set the fish to one side. A frown from both the adults had her picking it back up and taking another bite before her stomach could protest again.

  “We are Knowing. These marks,” Brin pointed to the scars on his face and chest, “tell others we carry the knowledge of things. Osula is a healer. I am a water finder. Others are traders or metal shapers. All are marked. When a Knowing dies before passing to their children, the knowledge is lost. Your people don’t respect the Knowing.”

  “We … were not aware of the Knowing.” She thought back to Jo Boy, his tattoo, and how he talked about how he was responsible for finding water. She’d assumed it was merely the thirst of the desert talking. Maybe he’d been one of those who kept the knowledge. She was an expert on Outsiders, and she hadn’t even known that.

  Osula sucked pulp from a cattail root and spit a little mash onto her finger for Heide. The baby hummed and kicked her little legs in joy.

  Repulsed and fascinated at the same time, Tula wondered what the root tasted like.

  Brin leaned forward to catch Tula’s attention. “Go tell your people of the Knowing. Too many already been wasted.”

  “I can’t go back.” Saying the words aloud made Tula’s entire body go cold. That life was over forever, and her future was dubious. She flung the remainder of her fish in the fire, uncaring how she might be reprimanded. The two bites in her stomach swam around like the fish had come back to life inside her.

  “Why?” Osula’s dark contemplation penetrated Tula to the bone.

  “I rescued him and went against my people’s way.” Fresh realization of what she’d done filled her. All for the sake of a single life. How many more would Vitus condemn to death without her there to push the conversions through? She rose and brushed herself off. “I want to check on Levi.”

  The day neared sunset, and the evening breeze blew cold. Tula pulled the blanket around Levi. Sweat beaded his brow, even in the chill, and she dabbed at it with the corner of the robe.

  “I must change his poultice.” Osula stood behind her, but didn’t move toward Levi. Tula looked over her shoulder and nodded.

  Osula knelt and removed the leaves from Levi’s wrist. He whimpered in pain as she wiped away paste from his skin. Tula wanted to cry. She put her lips to Levi’s, to ease his pain. Her tears fell against his cheeks, and when she rose, it looked as if he’d been crying.

  He sighed and relaxed into Osula’s ministrations. The woman looked at Tula out of the corner of her eye. “You have the way of calming him.”

  Tula nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  “You a healer with your people?”

  Tula considered the question. These Outsiders were more intelligent than the Protectorate gave them credit for. “I am a healer of the mind.”

  Osula raised her brows and tied off the new poultice. “Spirit healer.” She looked at Tula with a new appreciation.

  Tula didn’t correct her.

  For three days, Osula treated Levi while Tula kept him unconscious. “You be a good match for a healer,” Osula said one night. Heide half-slept in her father’s lap, a little bubble of drool glistening in the firelight as her eyes blinked open and closed. “If you was a man, Brin might be out lucked.” The healer looked at her mate from the corner of her eye, with a smirk on her face.

  Brin took the jest in stride. “Maybe I just take you both to my blanket. You get everything you want.”

  Tula thought he might be serious until he winked at her. Osula snorted. “I make her man better and he kick your ass.”

  Brin laughed, the sound startling the baby fully awake. Heide sat up and giggled, like she’d been part of the joke. Her parents beamed at her.

  Tula laughed along with them. “You are a great healer. Thank you.”

  Osula nodded acceptance, then again glanced at Brin before directing herself at Tula. “You come with us. Get yourself marked. So you be safe. Maybe teach Heide the spirit healing?”

  Every muscle in Tula’s body seized. Tears came to her eyes. Even after their horrible stories about the Protectorate, they wanted to take her in. “I can’t teach spirit healing. It’s something my people are born with.”

  “You all got the spirit healing?” Brin raised his brows.

  Tula nodded. “Because of our skin. The sun makes medicine in our blood.”

  Osula sighed deeply. “The kisses. You give medicine in kisses.”

  “All your babies born with the gift?” Brin asked, his arms around Heide.

  A strange longing rose in Tula, a desire to feel a little body hugged against her. She’d never considered a child of her own. Children in the Protectorate were community property. Pregnancy and birth, regulated by Medical Operations, required genetic testing and modification prior to implantation in order to guarantee a viable embryo. The mother endured gestation completely under glass to prevent chemically addicted — or worse — babies. Once born, children were raised in the Gardens. Until now, her patients had always been enough to satisfy her nurturing.

  She shook the feeling off. “The green skin is poisonous to babies.”

  “Genie modifation.” Osula said, so pleased with herself, Tula didn’t have the heart to correct her pronunciation. “You get more than power to make food. You get power to make medicine.”

  “I suppose you could look at it that way. But the … medicine — too much is poison. Too much sun makes poison for adults. Our city has houses to protect us and our children from the sun.”

  “You walk in the sun.” Brin said, cocking one eyebrow.

  Tula nodded, all too aware of her mortality. She’d
been full of chemicals for so long now, she barely felt the effects. Burn Operatives had genetic treatments several times a year to heal their organs. Tula didn’t have that option. Her liver and kidneys would eventually fail processing all the toxins. She wondered how long she could stay alive outside. “I will die soon.”

  Brin’s scrutiny slid to Levi where he slept, and Osula put a hand over Tula’s. Her eyes shone in the light of the fire. “For him.”

  “This is a story worth telling.” Brin said, his eyes glistening.

  Levi flexed his burned shoulder as he watched Tula hand the baby to the cannibal woman and say a few, tearful words. Then the family disappeared from the hollow, the scarred man looking back once and raising his spear in goodbye. Tula watched them go in silence, and then began to pack their things, lost in her own thoughts.

  Awkward with his damaged arm, Levi attempted to help, but Tula shouldered the entire load. “Which way?” she asked.

  He pointed north.

  Over the next few days, the land rose slowly, until they crested a hill and a vast body of water opened up before them. No opposite bank in sight, the lake lay placid as far as they eye could see.

  “Reservoir.” Levi gasped.

  “Reservoir?” Tula repeated, shading her eyes from the sun glaring off the water.

  This had to be the reservoir the salt trader described, only four or five days southeast of the Fosselites. In spite of his aching tiredness, he swept Tula into a one-armed jig. “A landmark. I know where we are.”

  Glad to hear her laugh, he led the way west along the bank, his steps full of purpose. Toward the end of the day, the reservoir narrowed to river size. Ahead, they spotted the cage of a pre-Botanicaust bridge stretching over the water. Rusted out hunks of cars and crumbled pavement spread from shore to shore.

  Tula sucked in a loud breath. “This is from before? From Botanicaust?”

  He nodded and smiled, remembering his own awe at his first ancient ruins. Then he drew his face into serious lines. “We need to watch for cannibals. This is a likely crossing, so bands may wait in ambush.”