by Eliza Green
The tension and anger in the room was palpable but out of respect, nobody moved.
Arianna stood next to Stephen. He groped for her hand and when his fingers found it, he squeezed it once. She looked at him briefly, then dropped her eyes to the floor. Stephen noticed similar stances from the other Indigenes; very few watched Pierre wash Elise’s feet and hands—it was one final personal moment between them. His eyes roamed the room as he sought out a particular Indigene face. His heart beat a little faster when he found Serena; she was watching him.
Pierre picked up the knife and cut a small section from Elise’s elder robe. He picked up the candle and set the fabric alight. His eyes never left the bright glow of the flame. It was common for Indigenes to burn something personal belonging to the deceased. It was a symbol that although the body had no need for material possessions, the soul would continue to burn bright in the afterlife.
Pierre carefully draped what remained of the robe over Elise’s body, then stepped away from the table. One by one, Indigenes approached the table and laid a hand on Elise, passing their silent thoughts to her. The last Indigene moved away and Pierre scooped Elise up in his arms. He was shaking now and Stephen left Arianna’s side to help him.
‘Please! I can do this!’ Pierre said sharply as Stephen tried to support the weight of Elise’s body.
Stephen backed off but followed behind Pierre as he carried Elise through the tunnel to one of the disused private dwellings in the nearest residential section. Sobbing convulsively, Pierre laid her body on the floor of the dwelling and stepped out of the room. Others moved in to hermetically seal the entrance. Elise would remain there indefinitely.
Finally, she would get the privacy and silence she never could achieve as an empath, Stephen thought.
Stephen insisted that Bill, Laura and Jenny remained in the tunnels for the time being—Laura needed time to recover, and Bill and Stephen needed to talk. While Stephen’s injuries healed fully within a few hours, it took Laura a day to regain her ability to breathe properly. After the private ceremony for Elise, Pierre couldn’t look Leon in the eye; Stephen said Pierre knew it was illogical to hold Leon responsible for his son’s actions but he couldn’t help it. Leon, meanwhile, continued to show signs of suffering from being excluded.
The morning after the ceremony Stephen finally found time to speak to Bill.
‘I’d like to show you around. Do Laura and Jenny wish to join us?’ Stephen asked quietly.
‘No. They’ve already had a look on their own, but I think their experience was less than welcoming,’ Bill said, keeping an eye on the Indigenes that were gathering in the tunnels.
‘They don’t wish to harm you. They’re mostly just curious. This is the closest they’ve ever been to your kind.’
‘Well, if that curiosity changes into something else, let me know. This place is pretty impressive’—Bill waved a hand around the perfectly hewn tunnel they were walking along—‘You carved this all out yourselves?’
‘Yes. It’s easy for us to see into the rock’s composition. I’m not an engineer, but there are Indigenes among us who can work pretty fast.’
Bill found it difficult to walk on the surface of the tunnel and felt disorientated too. ‘Why do I feel like I’m riding on water?’ he asked.
Stephen gave him a little smile. ‘See how difficult it is for you to keep your balance? We tilted the floor slightly—enough to upset humans’ equilibrium. We built it into our design when the people on the surface began to show an interest in us.’
Just then, Bill noticed a small group of Indigenes who seemed to be following them on their tour through the tunnels. The young ones—the Evolvers—were at the front, curious to hear and see as much as they could; the older Indigenes hung back, cautious and wary. When they arrived at one of the residential areas, Stephen turned to speak to them. ‘He won’t harm you. Please do not be afraid.’ He motioned for Bill to follow him. They climbed two tiers and Stephen opened the metal door to his private dwellings. They needed some privacy to talk properly.
‘Where are they holding Anton?’ Bill asked as soon as Stephen had closed the door.
‘In a secure area. The elders from District Seven are working with Pierre to figure out what to do next.’ Stephen looked at the ground then back up at Bill again. ‘There’s something I need to share with you.’
‘I know—the explosion wasn’t Anton’s fault. He was being controlled by someone.’
‘Well, that’s part of it. I think Anton has been used as a pawn in some sick game. I’m not sure why.’
‘I have a theory.’
Stephen grimaced. ‘I thought you might.’
‘Does Anton remember anything yet?’
‘Nothing at all. He keeps slipping in and out of this second personality. As time goes on, the real Anton becomes weaker. So, what’s your theory?’
‘Was the bomb powerful enough to kill, do you think?’
Stephen shook his head. ‘Not really—at least, not directly. Causing us injuries in that way is futile because we heal so quickly.’
Bill leaned against the wall. ‘My wife Isla sent me a set of coded letters. In them she warned about the military’s plans to drive you out of hiding. I think Anton’s capture was no accident. I think it was orchestrated from beginning to end, as was my investigation into your movements.’
Stephen looked blankly at him. ‘But why me and Anton?’
‘I reckon any of the second-generation Indigenes would have done—they weren’t fussy. My guess is they want to understand you better, to learn from your evolution so they can refine their creation. They want to combine your mutated code with existing human DNA to create a third generation.’
Stephen looked shocked. ‘So are they done with us, or will they continue to harass us?’
Bill blew out a long, steady breath. ‘I don’t know, Stephen. There’s one place they haven’t been, and that’s in here—inside the planet. I think the bomb was personal—somebody with a vendetta against an Indigene who has a human past. The World Government doesn’t usually stray outside its brief, and bombs are not their style. Don’t get me wrong—they’re no pushovers either. The board members are a mixture of liberals and conservatives. The liberals will vote for any change that’ll protect the human race and if that means doing away with the Indigenes they’ll vote for it. The conservatives keep the liberals in check, but even their ideals are shifting as the Earth nears the end of its usefulness for humans.’
Stephen said nothing for a moment, trying to take it all in. ‘Have you any idea who was trying to kill Pierre?’ he eventually asked.
Bill shook his head. ‘Not Pierre. I think Elise was the target all along, to hurt Pierre indirectly. And there’s only one person who’d have the nerve to go against the World Government mandate. Have you ever heard of a man called Charles Deighton?’
Stephen frowned. ‘Not that I remember.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ Bill straightened up. ‘I need to get back to Earth. I have some digging around to do on the World Government, to see what I can uncover about their plans. And if I don’t get my answers, I may have to go through the front door.’
‘And expose your involvement with us? I can’t let you do that. Who knows what trouble that could unleash here?’
‘We have to try. Time is running out. We need answers.’
Stephen leaned his back against the wall. ‘So, what can I do from here? How can we help?’
‘You already have a lot going on. But remember, the explosion probably wasn’t an order from the World Government. Now that Anton is back and no longer their pawn, the threat should be at least minimised. Concentrate on getting the real Anton back. He may remember something that was said while he was held prisoner. Other than that, hold the line.’
Stephen paused. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you about the explosion.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ve been having strange visions since my return from Earth,’ Stephe
n said. He began to pace the room. ‘At first, I dreamt of Anton and I thought I was sharing his experiences telepathically. Then, as the dreams changed, I thought they were connected with Anton’s capture—a punishment for the guilt I was feeling at having abandoned him.’
‘But there was nothing you could have done,’ Bill said.
‘Yes, I know that now.’
‘Then what?’
‘I … well, the thing is, I saw the explosion in my vision—a detailed account of it—but I didn’t recognise what it was at the time.’
Bill grabbed hold of Stephen’s arm. ‘You predicted the explosion?’
‘I’m what the others are now calling a “reader”—a predictor of the future. The changes were taking place in me on the trip back to Exilon 5 but I didn’t know what they were. I experienced the explosion first hand, in my mind before it actually happened here. I thought it was connected to Anton in some way, but I was simply foreseeing events that hadn’t happened yet.’
‘Shit, that’s incredible!’ Bill smiled. ‘We could use this. Can you see what’s going to happen now?’
‘No, I’ve already tried. It seems I can’t choose what to see. It just happens. But now I know about it I’ll be more prepared.’
Bill’s expression changed and he swallowed loudly. He spoke quietly. ‘Stephen, who was Isla’s Indigene contact on Exilon 5?’
‘Our elders.’
‘Do you know … is she—’Bill struggled to find the right question to ask.
‘You want to know if they met her?’ Stephen replied. ‘Yes.’
‘Is she alive?’ Bill asked, his eyes wide.
Stephen shook his head. ‘She got caught up in some argument with other military. She was protecting our location. She tried to steer them away from one of our entry points in the flatlands when they attacked her. Pierre said he couldn’t get to her. She didn’t make it.’
‘Who killed—’ Bill swallowed loudly instead of finishing his question.
‘She forewarned us about your government’s transfer plans and about the military’s plans to increase their activity on Exilon 5. She saved us on many occasions. You should be very proud of her. That’s what Pierre would want you to remember, nothing else.’
Bill was silent.
‘Are you okay?’
Bill thumbed away a tear that fell. ‘I think I always knew. I just needed to hear it.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m glad Pierre was looking out for her. I’m glad she had friends here.’
Bill walked over to Stephen and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s time for us to go. Laura’s good mood won’t last down here in the darkness.’
Stephen nodded. ‘Yes, I treated her yesterday for her seasonal depression. She shouldn’t have problems with mood swings any more. Darkness or light, she’ll cope fine in either.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Bill laughed shakily, his voice still tinged with sadness. ‘She was a bloody nightmare on the journey here. Anything in your cauldron for insomnia?’
‘No,’ Stephen said. ‘But there is something Pierre wanted to do for you before you left.’
‘What?’ Bill frowned.
‘To help you say goodbye to your wife.’
Chapter 30
Stephen and Arianna led the procession through the tunnels of District Three. Behind them walked Bill carrying a small bowl of water in which floated several white native wildflowers, followed by Jenny and Laura, who each carried a lit candle. No one spoke. When they encountered Indigenes along the way, the Indigenes kept their eyes trained on the ground and stepped back, showing them a quiet respect.
Bill was grateful for the low illumination running along the base of the tunnel walls. His eyes were filled with tears and the light was all he could see to guide his way. He wasn’t finding it easy to breathe either, even with the gel mask in place. The pain in his heart was unbearable, but he realised it was something he had to do. He’d needed to let go for a long time now.
Eventually, they reached an empty private dwelling located in the south quadrant. Stephen opened a door and entered the dimly lit room followed by Arianna; they stood either side of a small stone ceremonial table. The others followed them into the room.
Bill gasped when he saw the arrangement. The walls had been daubed with colourful pigment—images of humans and Indigenes, and the biodome animals. Isla’s name was scrawled in paint in several places, amongst the images. A necklace made out of the same type of white flowers he carried had been placed on the table. Isla’s picture was propped up against a rock, and sat neatly in the centre of the necklace.
‘The Evolvers wanted to do something for her. I hope you don’t mind,’ Arianna said, guiding his hand with a gentle touch. ‘Place the bowl underneath her picture.’
His hands shaking, Bill placed the bowl on the stone table. He stood there for a long time staring at Isla’s picture. The tears that had been welling in his eyes at last spilled over and ran down his cheeks. In the picture, Isla was wearing her military uniform and her hair was cropped short. She was standing beside Pierre, her arm draped over his shoulder, and she had warmth in her eyes; her smile was gentle and true. Laura and Jenny placed their lit candles on either side of Isla’s picture.
‘This district was where Isla felt most comfortable on Exilon 5. In our culture, we burn a personal item belonging to the Indigene when we are ready for the soul to burn brightly in the next life,’ Stephen explained. ‘Perhaps you’d like to do that with her photograph. I expect that would be something you need to do alone. ’
Bill couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph.
‘Pierre said she cut her hair to blend in better with the other Indigenes,’ Stephen added.
Bill nodded.
‘Take as much time as you need,’ Stephen said and they all left the room. Laura gently squeezed Bill’s shoulder as she passed him.
Bill waited for the door to suck shut. The sound in the room deadened; he could hear nothing except the sound of his own breathing. He studied Isla’s photo some more. She was holding her head high, a sign of respect. He could see in her eyes how she felt about Pierre, and Pierre’s relaxed stance told him the feeling was mutual. A smile formed on his face as the tears fell from his eyes. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.
‘You always were a decent judge of character, love,’ he said.
The scent from the wildflowers filled the small room; the smell seemed familiar. A memory stirred in his mind—the bowl of pot pourri they kept by the front door to their apartment had emitted a similar perfume. He suddenly realised that all along, Isla had been sharing a part of Exilon 5 with him. She had been leaving subtle clues for him all that time.
He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter. He unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table top. It had been in a separate envelope to the other letters and had not been written in code. He’d read it several times already, but this would be the last time.
My dearest Bill,
It feels right to be writing to you at this time, given all the changes that are happening on Earth. I’m spending so much time on Exilon 5 these days and you’re so busy with your job, we keep missing each other. I’ve re-discovered the art of handwriting letters. Forgive me for my shaky handwriting—it’s been a while since I’ve held a pen. I practised for hours before writing this.
I’m picturing you as you read this, surrounded by stuff that I bought for the apartment. Remember the most recent shopping trip you came with me on? I could see you playing with your DPad in the corner, pretending you were interested in what I had chosen. I loved you for coming. I know how little interest you have in all that domestic stuff.
The people on Exilon 5 are so happy. I think you’d like it here. I can see us going to the park on a Sunday with a picnic basket in our hands—maybe you’ve bought some things at Cantaloupe and I’ve taught myself how to cook. Stop making that face, Bill Taggart! I’m not that bad a cook. Don’t worry—I’d test the food first to make sur
e I wasn’t killing you. Maybe we could take a cookery class together. I’ll enquire at the front desk of the Digital Library and have them send the link directly to your DPad so you can’t squirm your way out of it.
Anyway, I think we’d be happy here together. So maybe when you divorce yourself from that demanding job of yours we can talk about it a bit more. Maybe.
Forever yours,
Isla.
Remembering the past; imagining the future—she was sharing with him the life that she wanted but they were never going to have.
Bill sank to his knees and sobbed so hard it felt like he would never be able to stop. But at last the tears subsided and a sense of calm enveloped him. He stood up and grabbed hold of her photograph, then brought it to his lips and placed it in a shallow metal dish at the front of the table. He put the letter on top of it. Then he took one of the candles and held it to the corner of the photograph. Within a few seconds, both photograph and letter burst into flames; they burned brightly momentarily before turning to ash in the dish.
‘Goodbye, my love. You’ll always be a part of me.’
Chapter 31
Bill, Laura and Jenny each removed their masks just as Stephen popped an air filtration device into his nose and throat. They had reached the surface of Exilon 5 and the air tasted sweet. It was eleven at night. Bill clicked on the flashlight and dimmed its bright glow using his palm.
‘I’m sorry, it was the closest I could get you. The city is two miles that way.’ Stephen pointed his finger to the left. ‘Use this’—he handed Bill a whistle—‘and the animals will keep their distance.’
Laura and Jenny each took turns to hug Stephen tightly. Jenny cupped Stephen’s face for a brief moment and looked sternly into his eyes. Her lips moved and Bill noticed the corners of Stephen’s mouth twitch. She let go.
