by Linsey, Tam
Glancing toward the dancing light in the sky, Levi shimmied out of the pack and dropped to the ground. He put his feet beneath the metal and kicked the plate up. The musty smell of earth and the tang of aluminum settled on him as he curled under the thin layer of aluminum. For extra coverage, he pulled the pack close to the gap at his head. An insect skittered up his calf and settled behind his knee.
It was going to be a long night.
Waking cramped and cold, Tula shook her head to remember where she was — inside a tipped chest freezer. Outside her shelter, cloud-filtered light spilled into the rectangular pit with a drizzle of rain. Even the pale illumination hurt her eyes, pounding into the back of her skull. She stretched her legs and then realized the twins were gone.
“Eily? Ana!!” She crawled into the rain. “Levi!” Had he survived the night? She rubbed her temples, unnerved she’d fallen so soundly asleep. Mercifully, the hallucinations had subsided, replaced by a dizzying headache.
Rustling shrubbery caught her attention and she turned to see Levi emerging through the straggly limbs. “Oh, Levi!”
He hopped down to meet her. “Tula.” His embrace circled her with comfort and peace.
“Where are the children?”
He glanced around. “Not with you?”
Panic filled her. She pulled out of his arms. “Ana! Eily!”
More rustling from the other direction. Both girls appeared, one after the other. They held a small lizard by the legs between them.
“Food!” They chimed together, dropping the lifeless creature at Levi’s feet. Tula still couldn’t tell the girls apart.
“Good!” Levi beamed at them and reached out to tousle the hair of the nearest girl.
“We all made it.” Tula said, barely able to believe it.
Levi clasped her hand and then one of the girl’s. He nodded toward the second girl. “Take Eily’s hand.” The children complied, and Eily held Tula’s other hand to form a circle. Levi dropped his chin and began to pray.
The familiar cadence made Tula tense, fighting back memories. When he reached the final line, her lips formed the words without volition. “Forever and ever, Amen.” Shocked at herself, she jerked her hands away as if burned. Shivers tightened her skin as images pressed the edges of her awareness. “The Lord’s Prayer?”
Levi stared at her and nodded. “Child of God.”
He’d called her that before. He seemed happy when he said it. But she didn’t have his faith. “I do not believe in God.”
Shaking his head, Levi frowned. “You don’t mean that.”
Tula bit her lip. Levi needed his god. Was it such a bad thing to let him think she felt the same? She looked over the edge of the hole into the surrounding amarantox. “We need to move while sun shines.”
Nightmares plagued Levi’s sleep the next three days; visions of dead red eyes, pools of blood, sounds of bone cracking. Last night, in the remains of an old prairie-stone outbuilding, he’d lain on his back next to Tula and searched for God. The warmth of her body against his side reminded him why he kept going. Tula had been moved by the Spirit to speak the Lord’s Prayer, and he should be thankful, but he felt immense guilt that he only prayed out of habit. Much as he wanted forgiveness, he could not bring himself to ask. True contrition required remorse, and he was glad Dr. Kaneka was dead.
They followed the river beneath a persistent bank of clouds. The twins ranged ahead and behind, always returning with items to eat. Tula improved. The jade tones of her skin returned to normal, smooth and flawless except for a film of travel dirt. Her feet pained her, and he’d offered her the sandals, but while they were almost too small for him, they were far too large for her. He spent one nearly sleepless night weaving cattail fronds into footwear for her and the girls. The fibers would not last long, but he’d make Tula new ones every night, if he had to.
He would do anything for her, and that scared him. He’d felt this way about Sarah, and giving her a child had killed her. Swallowing the lump of worry, he pushed aside some low branches and reminded himself that once they reached the Holdout, she’d be safe. No one in the Old Order would lift a hand against her or the twins.
But he and his new companions would always be shunned. He deserved to be. He was a murderer.
He thought of Samuel turning his back to him. The pitying glances of Beth and the other women. The cruel taunts of children before mothers chided them for their rudeness.
His far away thoughts missed a hole in the path in front of him and he stumbled. Tula linked an arm through his, keeping him upright. “Levi, you okay?”
“Fine.” He kept walking.
“You seem not here.” She pointed to her temple.
“I’m worried about going back.”
She leaned her cheek against his bicep. “It’s giving you bad dreams.”
He exhaled a shuddering breath. Of course, she noticed his restlessness. “I killed Dr. Kaneka.” The words came out like dust — dry and settling in even the most hidden places of his soul. He wanted to pull away, to let his confession carry him to heaven.
Tula hugged his arm tighter to her cheek. “Is it making you sad?”
“It’s a sin. God’s Commandment. ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill.’“
Pulling her cheek away, she maintained her grip and looked up at him. Levi stared off across the bleak horizon ahead as she said, “It’s good he died. He hurt many people.”
He looked down into her face. She really didn’t understand. “Killing people is a sin. Murder.”
“Murder is the word for killing people?” Although she had grasped his language better, many subtleties still eluded her.
He nodded.
She remained silent for a few steps as she thought. “It means to kill with … thinking first?”
Frowning, he said, “Intent.”
“Intent. It means you want to do killing?”
“Yes.”
“Did you intent to kill?”
Air refused to fill his lungs. “I don’t know.”
“What is the word for no intent?”
“Accident.” The word came out a whisper. Had it been an accident? He only wanted to stop Kaneka from harming Tula. But the man fell and died.
“Accident!” She breathed the word as if remembering a flavor. “You didn’t murder. Murder is like … euthanization.” Against his arm, she trembled. “Dr. Kaneka was a bad man. Maybe your god wanted him to die. You did accident.”
Was she suggesting he was a hand of God? The thought was tempting. And prideful. “Then God have mercy on my soul.”
It was the closest thing to forgiveness he could ask for.
Tula thought the Reservoir was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen, until they reached the dam where once-placid water tumbled thirty meters into a churned and muddy pool before roiling violently east. The roar of so much water deafened her, pounded the earth and vibrated through the soles of her feet. Even Levi seemed amazed as the four of them stood gaping.
Finally he broke away and pointed across the flat horizon. “Only another seven or eight days.”
For five nights now, no helicopters had come. Still, none of them slept easy. Twice they’d come across cold fire-pits where someone had obviously camped not too long ago. Tula saw no evidence of human bones, but she had no doubts these were cannibal camps.
They moved on quickly, finding shelter where they could. The rain had stopped, and the air turned cooler with a constant breeze pushing the seed-laden amarantox low to the ground. Behind them, the white caps of the mountains gleamed like wicked teeth.
Levi told her about his people as they walked. Electric fences to keep out cannibals, miles of fields plowed by methane-powered equipment, houses built of brick and stone. His stories were so vivid, she felt she’d been there.
He outlined plans to build a greenhouse, so she and the girls could still get sunlight. And he talked about clothing. So much about clothing, and how she would have to become used to covering much of her body for
modesty. She didn’t mind covering herself, but less sunlight left her hungry.
Today, much to Levi’s consternation, she lowered the robe around her waist to expose her back and breasts to the warm morning rays, indulging herself in the wash of chemicals on the first sunny day since leaving the mountain. “There’s no one around to see me, Levi. And you’ve done more than look.” She teased him, enjoying the flush rising into his golden cheeks. “Plus, I can share,” she added, lifting her chin for a kiss.
He leaned down to humor her just as one of the twins scampered up and thrust a scorpion between them. Tula recoiled. Out in the brush, the other twin’s voice rose on the wind like a warning siren. A prickle of sweat coalesced to run down Tula’s naked side. Ignoring the scorpion, she peered into the morning shadows in search of the missing twin.
Levi slid out of the pack and dislodged the first aid box. “Where’s Ana? Did she get stung?”
“Food.” Eily held the squirming creature out to him, her eyes lit with excitement.
Ana stomped out from behind the head-high tamarisk. “Eeeeeiiiiiily!”
“I pulled off the stinger.” Eily claimed without looking back at her sister.
“I caught it!” Ana’s shriek echoed across the plain. She stood ramrod straight, her hands balled at her sides. Beneath her chloroplasts, her face was dark. Even the bushes seemed to cower at her rage.
Turning to Tula, Levi asked, “Is she hurt?”
High emotion was part of the reason for the twins’ euthanization order in the first place. How were they ever going to fit into Levi’s peaceful society? “A fight.”
Levi relaxed. “Ah. Sibling rivalry. Ana, come here!” He appropriated the scorpion from Eily and passed it to Tula.
Trembling, she gingerly pinched the tail of the squirming creature between thumb and finger. The thing appeared to have no head, just semi-hairy segments of body and tail, and arms ending in bulky pincers. Even though the tip of the tail had been broken off, the scorpion twisted in an attempt to grasp her fingers with its pincers. Could such an alien creature feel pain? To mutilate before killing something seemed so … cannibal.
She glanced at the green-skinned girls. Levi stood between the two, mediating even though he didn’t speak their language. Fortunately, Ana no longer screamed. Would the girls hesitate to eat her or Levi should the need arise? Their cannibal natures seemed to dominate. Yet, they had altruistically helped during the initial flight, and they shared the food they caught.
The scorpion stopped struggling and hung limp from her fingers. Had it died of shock? She turned to the pack Levi had dropped, opened the water bottle they used to store insects the girls collected, and eased the scorpion inside. To her surprise, the creature immediately grabbed the beetle already in residence.
A shiver raced down her spine as the scorpion gnawed off bits of the twitching beetle. Morbidly entranced by the life and death struggle, she squinted through the nuvoplast. Where was this thing’s mouth, anyway? A shadow moved through the amarantox beyond the bottle.
Tula froze. Her heart squeezed tight as she turned her attention to the foliage. Was she seeing things? The hallucinations had subsided days ago. Had the full sun exposure made her visions return? Behind her, the girls argued shrilly in spite of Levi’s calming tones. She gathered the pack and skittered toward the rest of her party. “Levi.”
Silence descended as they all turned to her.
“What is it?” Levi lifted the pack and shoved an arm through one strap.
She watched the amarantox. “I think I saw … something.”
“Where?” His voice dropped several decibels. He ushered her behind him to join the girls.
“Maybe wind.” It had been the wind. The grotesque struggle between predator and prey inside the bottle had made her paranoid. The figure had been nothing but a play of light and shadow.
“Let’s move.” Levi urged them forward. “Girls, no wandering. Tell them,” he directed Tula, keeping his eyes on their back trail.
Tula translated, and the twins trotted to her side, attention darting all around them. As she followed the cracked road along the river, she felt more and more silly. Levi stayed farther back, eyeing the way behind them, jogging to catch up, then observing again.
She called back to him, “Levi, it’s nothing. The sun makes me see things.”
“We can’t take a chance.”
The tense afternoon turned into dusk. When the sun cast orange light against their backs, they stopped and made camp without a fire. Levi chewed raw cattail roots, and the twins split the scorpion between them. The last of the water was gone, but the edge of the river felt too exposed. Tula told herself she wasn’t hungry and wrapped the robe around her shoulders. The fabric weighed against her sun-kissed skin, and she wished she could see her own shoulder blades to make sure the chloroplasts were all right.
She looked at the skin on her arm. Did she imagine the green around the pink scar had faded? Perhaps Vitus’s ripening wasn’t genetic at all, but a result of the tests the Fosselites had been performing. It would serve him right.
But then it also meant her own chloroplasts were doomed.
She took comfort that the girls had an advocate if something happened to her. Levi had taken to them, teaching them words, praising their gathering skills, worrying if they were warm enough at night. He could even tell them apart, where Tula had trouble discerning one from the other.
Would Levi’s vouching for them be enough? He insisted his people would not harm them, but they were “abominations.” She sucked in a lungful of air filled with the scent of river and let out a sigh. With Dr. Kaneka’s experimental cocktail running through her system, she might not live through the year, anyway.
Then again, she could live forever.
She drifted to sleep with thoughts of burning red eyes set in emerald green skin.
Deep into nightfall, she woke. The acrid scent of burning tamarisk floated through the clearing. Levi’s arm tensed around her as she shifted, senses searching for the twins. “Where are Eily and Ana?” she whispered.
“Thought they were going behind a bush.”
“Do you smell smoke?”
“I should go look for them.” He sat up in the darkness.
“Don’t leave me.” She gripped his arm. The twins would not have abandoned them for their own kind, would they? Or lead cannibals back here…
“I’m sure they’re just exploring. Hunting.” His whisper didn’t give her confidence.
A scuff to her left made Tula’s heart jump as a small figure scuttled toward them, joined by a matching shape a second later.
“Hunters.” One of the twins hissed.
“Men hunters.” The other voiced.
“What?” Levi asked.
Tula translated.
“We have to get off the road.” Levi rose and gathered the blanket, shoving it into the pack. Already covered in goose bumps of fright, Tula’s skin tightened in the cold night air.
“We cross the water.” A child pulled on Tula’s hand, urging her from the clearing. “They keep going.”
Fear choked Tula as they stood on the stony bank of the water. Pale starlight reflected ripples on the surface. The other bank might as well have been on the other side of the planet. The burble made her knees weak. “You go.”
“They say we should swim?” Levi asked. Beside her, the pack scuffed the rock as he set it down. “I’ll take you across. Then come back for the pack.”
The subtle splash of water ahead told her the twins had gone ahead. “Take the pack first.”
“Tula, I’d rather lose the pack than leave you behind.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He gripped her bicep like a vise. The determination in his voice sharpened Tula’s fear. He wouldn’t leave her. If she didn’t swim, cannibals would eat them both.
She tried to pull away, but he gripped her painfully. The sound of the backpack’s zipper ripped through the quiet night. “Wit
h the empty water bottles, the pack will float with us,” he said.
Barely cognizant of his words over the thundering of her heart, she nodded into the darkness. She had to be brave for Levi. On stiff legs, she followed his pull into the water. The edge dropped out and she squealed, then muffled herself as her feet stabilized. The current thrust against her trembling calves.
Levi turned and hooked her hands into the back of his waistband. “Tula, don’t panic. Keep your arms away from my neck so I can breathe. But don’t let go. Try to lie still. Float. Okay?”
She gulped air in response, fingers aching from her grip on the fragile fabric.
He planted a kiss on her lips, both hands cupping her cheeks. “I love you. Please don’t let go.”
He waded into the flow. As he pulled her deeper, her limbs grew stiff. Cannibals are after you. The thought urged her on. Water scrolled around her hips. Then in a rush it lifted her feet out from under her and flung her downstream. The fabric slipped in her fingers, and she clenched her hands tighter.
The current was strong. Her head bobbed above water and she choked in a breath. Don’t let go. An eddy dropped them in a heart stopping rush downstream, burying her, and her feet thrashed uselessly. One of her hands broke free. In panic, she threw her arm around Levi’s waist. Her palm slipped against his wet skin, and her legs tangled with his. His kicking threatened to jar her loose. She wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing her face to his lower back.
He kept stroking forward. Her grip slithered to his knees. His body twisted rhythmically as he kept stroking with his arms. The rasp of loose gravel and the lick of weeds bumped her knees, and she kicked out, but couldn’t get her legs under her. His feet bounced against the bottom twice. But the water was still deep, and she couldn’t let go of his knees without being swept downstream. Hands tangled in her hair, yanking her upward, and she clambered up his body as her lungs cried for air. His arms circled her, pulling her tight to his chest as he bobbed them into shallower water.
