by Ellis, Tara
“You’re driving?”
Chuckling, the sergeant gestured to the convoy. “Not like this, if that’s what you mean. The roads clear up further east of here. The problem then won’t be infrastructure, but social instability. Like I told you before, civil control was essentially lost a few days ago and the spreading Kuru is only fueling it.”
Jason stopped a respectable distance away from the other soldiers as they reached the first truck. Gentry paused when she realized he wasn’t beside her. “Come and get some food,” she said, motioning for him to continue. “I only ask that you pick a spot on your own to eat it. I’ll bring it to you.”
As they came to an open area beyond the vehicles, Jason was impressed with how quickly they had set up a feeding station. He skirted the clearing and selected a lone tree off to the side. When Gentry brought him a tray a few minutes later, he felt immense gratitude for both the refueling as well as the comradery. Though the food was likely the same type of MRE he’d thrown in his bag, he still appreciated it, as well as the orange, power bar, and bottle of water.
Marty ran circles around several select people, and Jason watched with amusement as many of them happily greeted the dog and appeared to already be familiar with him. After receiving an adequate amount of petting and ear scratches, he bounded back to Jason and plopped down in the shade, tongue lolling.
To his surprise, Gentry didn’t leave, but instead sat down with her own food. She sat cross-legged about ten feet away, and then deliberately removed her respirator. She was slightly older than he’d thought at first, probably in her late forties. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a tight braid and her face was clear of any make-up. She had friendly, dark-brown eyes and a demeanor of strength he’d rarely encountered outside of the military.
“There was a 6.1 quake in upstate New York,” she said in between bites of an unidentifiable food. “Sounds like a lot of damage. They aren’t as prepared around there as Washington is.”
Jason frowned. “I didn’t even know there was a fault in New York.”
Gentry raised an eyebrow at him. “Come on,” she scoffed. “A smart guy like you has to realize there’s pretty much faults everywhere.”
Chuckling, Jason removed his dirty mask and ran a hand over his growing beard. “I guess I should have said an active fault. Or, one that could create that large of a quake.”
Becoming more serious, the sergeant took a long swallow of water before continuing. “Yeah, well, that’s another hot topic of debate. Nothing seems to be following any rules at the moment. Trying to predict anything at this point seems like a fool’s game. There are so many reports of other catastrophes from around the world, that I’m not even paying attention to them anymore. Gotta keep a grip on the immediate surroundings, so we can’t be concerned with anything outside of our own threat zone.”
Jason knew exactly what she was referring to, and appreciated the perspective as he pointed to the sky. There didn’t seem to be any ash coming down, but it had taken on a haze similar to a bad forest fire season. The sun was an eerie orange globe as a result, casting odd shadows and adding to the doomsday vibe. It was impossible to know if it was a result of Yellowstone, Iliamna in Alaska, or maybe both. It didn’t really matter, so long as they were still able to get a bird in the air. “At least the worst-case ash scenario doesn’t seem to be playing out here,” he said. “Does that mean you’re still able to fly?”
Gentry peeled her orange while staring at him thoughtfully. “We were told at our last check-in that the supply drop was on schedule for the FEMA camp tomorrow tonight. I guess that means the answer is yes, but there’s been chatter for days now that once those other massive, upper-atmosphere ash plumes converge, there won’t be much flying going on for a while. It’s going to lower the global temperature enough to cause a volcanic winter.”
“Volcanic winter?” Jason repeated, pondering the information. “So, going south would be a smart move.”
Gentry eyed him questioningly while she gathered up her garbage and stood. “Eventually, I guess it would be,” she answered. “Especially if you’re…say, immune to The Kuru and can survive long enough to do it.”
A deep-seeded guilt burned in his gut and caused Jason to remain seated. He dropped the orange into his pocket, having lost his appetite. “Do you have family?” he asked, looking up at a woman he barely knew but had a strong suspicion that in a normal world, would be his friend.
Gentry froze, and then grimaced before checking her watch for what was probably the tenth time since they began eating. “Yes. A grown daughter attending college in Texas, and a fiancé here in Washington, in Olympia. There’s a good chance I’ll never see them again. I didn’t even—” her voice caught and she coughed once to clear the hitch. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
As Jason watched her walk away, back straight and shoulders squared under the burden she was given, his resolve solidified. There was a reason for his immunity that went beyond justification. He didn’t deserve it, but he’d damn well do something significant with it.
Chapter 6
JESS
Amazon Jungle near Kumalu, Suriname
Northeast interior of South America
Jess tugged at her t-shirt, pulling it away from her damp skin. While it wasn’t as hot as normal for mid-June, the humidity was smothering. Stopping along the beaten trail leading to the main house from the gardens, Jess shielded her eyes and stared again at the sky. It was hard to say exactly how it was off. The sun was burning down on her the same as usual, but it wasn’t as bright. Even though there weren’t any clouds in the sky, it was like there was a thin layer of cotton covering it. Maybe it was the ash. She’d expected something much more dramatic, based on what her imagination had been conjuring up for the past week in anticipation of the predicted spread around the globe.
A green macaw screeched from the nearby canopy of trees lining the edge of the property, making Jess jump. She scowled at herself and started walking again. “Stop being so twitchy,” she muttered, kicking at a clump of dirt along the trail.
It was barely past noon and already she’d accomplished more than she would have before in a whole day. She was embarrassed to admit how little she knew about running the preserve. Jess had always thought of herself as being involved and knowledgeable, but the reality was that she’d been sheltered. Not just from the cruel world, but also the harder edges of life on the preserve.
Feeding the chickens had been a part of her daily chores for as long as she could remember, so that was nothing new. She also helped weed the garden when she felt like it, which was a couple times a week during the proper seasons. However, aside from keeping her room clean, doing her homework, and helping Akuba at the Libi Nati springs, there wasn’t much else required of her. Jess rarely made a fuss when her dad asked her to go help with other random tasks, but what she considered the hard stuff was done by Mr. Van and the other grounds men.
Jess turned her hands over and stared at the fresh blisters as she approached the house. She should have worn gloves. Shoveling feed and mucking stalls wasn’t something she’d done much of in the past, and she had learned why in a matter of hours.
Mr. Van and Kavish had taken the truck and a bunch of empty gas cannisters early that morning. Akuba explained to her that they were going to travel around all day and try to get as much gas as possible, before it ran out. That left the bulk of the daily chores to her and Akuba, which included tending to the various farm animals, the gardens, and food prep.
Jess staggered in through the back-patio door, closing her eyes in relief when the cool air hit her. Thank goodness the electricity was still on and they had air conditioning. She heard the telltale noises of dishes clacking and something frying on the stove as the smells wafted over her, and her mouth began to water. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, though it was well past her normal lunchtime and she’d done plenty to earn it.
“Jess,” Akuba called out, when she remained le
aning against the closed door.
Jess opened her eyes and saw the other woman was, indeed, standing in front of the stove. Her long black hair was braided and coiled on top of her head, and she was wiping her hands off on a towel while watching Jess closely. “Don’t worry,” Jess reassured her. “I’ll go wash my hands first. Ugh,” she huffed, looking down at her grimy, sweaty clothes. “I think I’ll change, too.” She frowned as she thought about all the dirty work that was still left to do. “Or, maybe not. I have to weed the gardens and pick some stuff for dinner tonight. Then, I need to bring in a couple more cases of water from the storage shed before helping you go out and catalog all of the food. Mr. Van told me last night that it has to be done so we can plan out our meals for the next month.”
“Jess!” Akuba said forcefully, sounding strained.
Jess looked back at her in surprise, wondering what she could have done wrong.
“Your dad. He’s awake,” Akuba said quickly, before Jess could respond. “He went out to the garage over an hour ago without saying a word to me, and hasn’t come back yet.”
“Was he—” Jess started to ask the one question she was most scared of, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to know if he was normal. It didn’t matter. She’d come to the decision over the past forty hours since he first woke up, that the only thing that mattered was he was still alive. Just like any other person who survived a serious illness with lingering effects or even permanent disability, she would still love him. No matter what, they’d figure it out and get through it, so long as they were there for each other.
Akuba didn’t seem to have the same perspective. It was clear to Jess that the Lokono native was scared of him. She knew it had to have something to do with whatever beliefs her people had of the Kra Puru, but it was a conversation Jess was avoiding. She didn’t want to know about it. Not then, and not yet.
Since he woke up Tuesday night, her dad spent most of his time sleeping and eating the food Jess brought to his room. Aside from a short walk the night before, he hadn’t been out of the bed. Jess had been excited when he asked her to help him walk around and stretch, though it swiftly turned to disappointment and a growing unease when he’d hardly spoken more than a handful of words to her.
Though it took a minute to mull over the news of his journey out to the garage, she decided it was a good thing. Jess finally smiled in response and looked expectantly at Akuba. “That’s a good sign, right? I can take his lunch out and eat with him in the garage.”
Akuba set a spatula down and wiped her hands nervously on a dish towel. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to…to try and have a conversation with him yet.” Turning away from Jess, she went back to arranging the hamburgers and French fries onto plates. “Why don’t you let me take him the food instead, and wait for him to come to you? Sometimes, when a person isn’t feeling well, they need to ease back into things at their own pace. He might not be ready to talk, Jess. He’s been through a lot.”
Jess glared at Akuba’s back. Why was her friend lying to her? The one thing she’d always appreciated about Akuba was her brutal honesty, no matter how hard things were to hear sometimes. Puckering her lips, she debated whether to confront her or let it go. Feeling like an uncertain fourteen-year-old again, Jess sighed. She realized she didn’t have either the physical or emotional strength for that conversation, either. Instead, she’d take the cowardly route and skirt the issue, while letting Akuba know in her own way that she was onto her.
“Sure,” Jess said with a little too much sweetness. “You’re totally right. I won’t badger him, I promise. I’ll just drop the burger off after I eat, and make sure he’s doing okay before I head out to the gardens. I know you said it was going to take you all afternoon to wash the bedding, and you want to get it done today in case we lose power. I can help you finish when I’m through with the other chores.”
Akuba turned slowly and eyed her suspiciously. “Right. Once we’re forced to use the generators, we won’t be able to waste the gas on large appliances.”
They ate their lunch in silence and Jess thought she was going to get away without any more uncomfortable tension, but then Akuba set a hand gently on her arm as she stood with the empty plate.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
Jess stared down into Akuba’s brown, intelligent eyes and felt the too-familiar fear clawing at the back of her throat. Akuba really was scared of him. “He’s my dad,” was the only thing she could think to say.
Akuba released her and leaned back in the seat, lifting her hand to press at the space between her eyebrows. “Of course, Jess,” she said through her fingers. Lowering her hand, she still looked pained, but not as scared. “I’m sorry, but it is hard for me to dismiss the fear of my family and ancestors. We will help him, you and I, however we can. Whatever it takes.”
Jess wasn’t sure what exactly she meant by that, but nodded in agreement.
On her way to the garage she jostled the food, gloves, and bottles of water while trying not to think about Akuba’s words of caution. “He’s my dad,” she repeated aloud, reinforcing the sentiment.
The first thing she noticed while approaching the old, weathered building was an ancient-looking satellite dish nailed just outside the double-doored entrance. Curious, Jess squeezed through the gap between the doors and waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior. It was a huge structure, the largest of three separate outbuildings on the preserve. While the animals and supplies were in the other two, this one contained a tractor, quad, an office, and what her father referred to as “field gear”. In addition to all of that, there was an area set up as a sort of lab, with various pieces of equipment arranged on several tables in a U shape. Her dad swore most of it was obsolete, but each time the new students arrived at the end of the summer, they’d often bring updated gadgets with them.
Her dad was standing in the middle of those tables. Cables led away from them to the satellite dish out front, and some other boxy things she’d never seen before. His laptop was open in the center of the U, and on the screen was what appeared to be his email account. He was busy typing something and didn’t acknowledge her as she walked to the center of the barn.
“Dad?” she called out gently, not wanting to startle him. “I brought you some food.”
“Thank you, Jessica,” he said without looking away from the screen. “You can set it down anywhere.”
Jessica approached the tables and placed the food on the one nearest her. After watching him for a moment, she gasped when he completed the correspondence by sending the email. “The internet is working?”
Eric finally turned from the computer and glanced her way before focusing on the hamburger. Taking a large bite, he chewed it methodically and swallowed before answering. “Yes.”
Jess blinked. It was okay. She would be patient with him. She could at least do that much after coming so close to losing him. “How did you do it?”
He shrugged and took another bite. “Both our phone and internet were part of outdated, inferior networks. It’s no surprise they were affected so easily by the upper-atmosphere interference created by the ash reaching the stratosphere. I simply implemented the system given to us by the communications grant we were awarded earlier this year.”
Jess had no idea what he was talking about, though it didn’t surprise her. Her dad rarely spoke about the business end of the preserve, and wasn’t a fan of modern technology. He hadn’t even subscribed to the satellite service that became available in the region until it had been in place for nearly two years. She was more surprised that he knew how to put it all together properly. Jess took it as a good sign that his brain was working better, so she decided to push for more.
“Were you emailing Grandpa?”
He chewed slowly before setting the rest of the burger down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was staring at her in such a detached way, that she began to shift nervously back and forth on her feet. “No. I’m attempting to g
et hold of a colleague at the university of California, to get an update on the state of things.”
“The state of things?” Jessica echoed. “What’s more important than knowing if Grandma and Grandpa are alive?” She didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but the words spilled out before she could stop them. If her dad was offended by it, he didn’t show it. Instead, he plucked some fries from the plate.
“Yes, Jessica. The situation in the rest of the world,” he explained, shoving two more French fries in his mouth. “The most important thing right now is ensuring that we stay alive. There is nothing I can do for anyone who’s already dead on the other side of the planet.”
Jess flinched at the impersonal reply. It didn’t matter that what he said made logical sense. In spite of her resolve to not be upset by how he was acting, she was overwhelmed by confusion. “Call me Jess,” she blurted without even realizing she was going to say it.
Eric froze with a fry in mid-air. “Excuse me?”
“Jess!” she retorted. “You always call me Jess, Dad. Not Jessica.”
“Jessica is your name,” he said matter-of-factly, and went back to eating the rest of the burger before turning his back on her.
Jessica stood rooted to the spot for several minutes, watching in silence as he continued running cables and wires between various devices. “We’ve already started working on making sure we stay alive,” she offered, trying again to be positive. “We’re okay. We have enough food and—”
“We’re not okay,” he interrupted, his back still to her. “I’m not talking about a week, or a month, or even a year. We must prepare now for the coming decades, Jessica.”
He turned back to her then, and Jess would have felt better if he’d looked angry or even scared. Instead, he wore the same expression she’d seen countless times when he addressed either his students about the Libi Nati, or a group of tourists at the preserve. Except, he lacked even the flash of excitement in his eyes he got while teaching something.
