Voyages: A Science Fiction Collection

by Carol Davis

  .

  Voyages

  A Collection of Four Science Fiction Stories

  by

  Carol Davis

  .

  Copyright © 2016 by Carol Davis

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  * Escape *

  * Excess Baggage *

  * While the Sky Is Falling *

  * Being of Value *

  “Excess Baggage” first appeared in The Time Travel Chronicles

  CarolDavisAuthor.com

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  .

  * Escape *

  One

  ____________

  The end of the line was closer to the entrance of the theater than usual, something that made Eli grin in tired satisfaction as he plumbed the depths of his pockets for his token. He’d be inside within a couple of minutes, away from the relentless, dusty heat of late afternoon in the heart of the quad.

  Away from the threat that the sun would suddenly break through that thick gray wall of clouds and flood the street with light… and more heat.

  “Cutter,” a voice snarled.

  Before he could react, he was body-slammed into the wall of the theater.

  The blow spun him enough that his shoulder struck the cinderblocks first, sending a riot of pain down his arm and up into his neck. His head connected with the cement an instant later, but it was a mild bounce, leaving him with enough clarity to stumble back upright rather than crumpling to the ground.

  If he fell to the ground, he’d lose his place in line – something he couldn’t risk.

  Blinking hard, he studied the faces around him, looking for the person who’d hit him. It had to be a Glad, he thought – a Gladiator, or a Prime. No one else would have the energy to pick a fight on a day like this. Over a hundred degrees, the dust thick enough to choke anyone who dared to take a deep breath – it was all most people could do to shuffle a few blocks to the theater, then stand quietly in line waiting to be ushered inside.

  He found his attacker without much trouble.

  Female. Tall, broad-shouldered, sporting a huge, floppy bubble of blue hair.

  Glowering, she pointed to a spot somewhere behind him. He didn’t dare turn to look; something whispered to him very convincingly that she was winding up to clobber him again, and if he turned his back, she’d do it. She wasn’t a Glad, he decided, but she was solid enough to be one. Maybe she was second-string.

  Maybe she was just a mutant.

  He saw her body tense and he shuffled backward obediently, hands raised in both surrender and apology. Mutters of discontent floated through the crowd as he retreated down the block, realizing as he went that what he’d thought was a cluster of people peering into a shop window was actually part of the line. Instead of being shorter than usual, the line was longer than it had been for months. He’d be lucky to make it inside.

  Swell. That’s just…

  “Eli?”

  A hand wrapped around his biceps and hauled him into the line. This second jolt to his equilibrium made his head swim a little. The heat was to blame, he told himself. You’ll be fine when you get inside.

  There’s no need for MedCare.

  “He’s late, okay?” the same voice said to the crowd. “Got off work late. God’s sake, just deal with it.”

  Ben.

  “I was,” Eli said.

  Ben’s head cocked to the side. “You ‘was’ what?”

  “Late. Getting off work.”

  Eli pressed a hand to the back of his neck. A clawing sensation had started to build there, one that was sure to build into a full-blown headache that would last for hours if he didn’t get inside soon. But this far back in the line…

  Ben held something out to him: a bottle of water, still cool and sweating. Nodding his gratitude, Eli twisted off the cap and lifted it toward his lips, then noticed the color of the bottle’s thin label: a pale, silvery blue.

  “Second label?” he said to Ben. “How in the world did you get hold of some second label?”

  Ben shrugged, gave Eli an “eh” look. “Did somebody a favor.”

  That silvery blue, second label, meant that the water had gone through the filtration process three times. Workers normally got third label, sometimes fourth, depending on the demand. Fourth label often had tiny motes of debris floating in it: dirt, plastic, other things that didn’t bear thinking about. Eli had never even seen a bottle of first label (identified with a strip of pure white), the water that was reserved for the highest levels of Administration.

  Half expecting someone to grab the bottle out of his hand, Eli took a couple of long gulps, shuddering as the crisp, chilled water made its way down his gullet. It had a mild taste to it – really, an absence of taste. The fourth label stuff often tasted like rust, or something sour.

  “Drink it all, if you want,” Ben offered, but Eli twisted the cap back on and returned the bottle to his friend, who tucked it deep into his pocket, out of sight. “You’re getting sloppy,” Ben said.

  “I wasn’t cutting the line. I just–”

  “Where’s Lida?”

  Eli pressed his eyes shut for a moment. “She didn’t want to come. She – I don’t know. She said something about going to Dayton. Meeting some friends over there. They might be doing the pills. I don’t know.”

  The line began to shuffle forward.

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  Let it go, Eli thought. There was a fair chance Ben would press the conversation further, would want to know what had happened the past couple of days, what would drive Lida to choose the company of her friends over Eli’s. Then again, Ben knew Lida. Knew that Eli had had some issues with her these past few months. Maybe he’d just… let it go.

  Eli let the thought roll through his head like a mantra as he and Ben inched along the sidewalk, looking for a pace that would let them progress steadily without bumping into the people ahead of them.

  Good sweet God it was hot. Couples weren’t holding hands. No one had an arm slung around someone else’s waist. Up ahead somewhere, someone was moaning softly.

  The sound made Eli cringe. Not today. No screamers today… please. Not when I already feel like…

  “You want some more water?” Ben asked quietly.

  “What? No. I’m all right. It’s just a headache.”

  “No wonder. You hit the wall pretty hard, from the looks of it.”

  “You saw?”

  “Hard not to. It’s bad today, you know. I heard a couple of Patrol talking, back on the platform, when I got off the transport. The heat, I guess. There’ve been incidents all over town. There was a stabbing, I think.” Smiling – though there was no humor in it – Ben reached out to pat Eli’s shoulder, realizing his mistake in time to haul the hand back. The shoulder was still sore, and Eli turned his body a little to move it away from Ben’s reach. “Don’t fire up that brain of yours,” Ben said. “It’s hot. There’s bound to be incidents. Things’ll quiet back down. And we’re gonna be inside soon. The line’s moving right along.”

  “Mmm,” Eli said. He didn’t nod; it would have hurt his head.

  They got in, though as Eli had expected, there were only a handful of seats left at that point. He let Ben choose, telling himself that any seat was fine, that the advantage was in being inside, away from the heat, and being able to sit down at all. With eyelids at half mast he sank into the chair Ben pointed out, pushed the seat back into half-recline, and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  He heard Ben let out a long
sigh.

  It should be Lida sitting next to him, he thought. They were paired; she ought to be here. Though if she had been, she wouldn’t be sighing softly, wouldn’t be settling into the seat contentedly, knowing that an hour’s worth of pleasure was only minutes away. She’d be talking. Complaining about something: her job, their unit, the weather, the quality of the fruit he’d brought home as a treat. That it’d been ages since she’d been able to find the kind of bread she liked.

  “What good does it do?” he’d asked her a couple of weeks ago.

  “What good does what do?”

  “The complaining, Lida. All this endless complaining. It won’t change anything. Why can’t you just–”

  “What? Be a good little drone?”

  “I’m not–”

  “Go along to get along? You ought to have that tattooed on your face, Eli.”

  Pain clawed at the back of his head.

  He was trying to will it away, eyes fully closed, when a murmur began to rise around him. He knew without looking that the lobby doors had been closed and sealed, and the lights in the auditorium had gone down. Beside him, Ben whispered, “Okay, then,” and Eli heard a rustle of movement as his friend settled deeper into his seat.

  There was a click overhead, then another, and a soft hum accompanied the release of the Additive into the air.

  The two of them – and everyone around them – each took a slow, deep breath.

  And another.

  Then Eli was by himself.

  Feeling a wash of contentment, he stretched out on his back on the grass, folded his arms underneath his head, and took a big swallow of cool, sweet air. A breeze slid up the length of his body and ruffled his hair, chilling the sweat at his hairline and making him shudder. Water rushed and bubbled nearby, and the big leaves of the trees nearby moved with the sound of rustling paper. A bird cried out, and Eli thought he could hear the beat of its wings lifting it above the shifting trees.

  He smelled perfume and turned his head to the right, pressing his cheek into the grass. Just beyond the reach of his fingers was a cluster of tiny white wildflowers.

  Pushing his shoes off, Eli brushed his heels back and forth against the grass, then tipped his feet and played with the grass with his toes. After a while he stood, rolled up the legs of his pants and padded across the grass to the stream, then waded out into the knee-deep water, gasping at the sudden cold as it struck his skin. His feet went numb bit by bit but he stayed out there for quite a while, using a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. His feet had been cold too many times to bother remembering, but this – with his toes dug into the sand and the sun warming his shoulders – was delicious.

  He knelt in the water, whistling at the chill, scooped up a double handful and drank. First label must be like this, he thought: more than just refreshing. Almost miraculous. It made his throat ache and constrict a little, but he scooped up more, still wasn’t satisfied, and ducked his head into the stream to drink until the cold made him lightheaded. Then he climbed back out onto the grass to stretch out in the sun, listening to birdsong and the papery whisper of leaves.

  He could be here with Lida, he thought. Lying together in a pool of sunlight that was gently warming and comforting, not debilitating. Making love, maybe. Then he remembered the strident tone that had taken over Lida’s voice these past few weeks and decided he was better off alone, soothed by the breeze and that gentle sunlight.

  After a while, he dozed.

  A moan drew him back to the theater.

  Ben groaned loudly beside him and muttered, “Damn.”

  The hundred-odd people around them were stirring, stretching, sighing. Two rows ahead of Ben and Eli, the blue-haired woman had her head thrown back and was gulping air. Eli watched her, torn somewhere between hope and dread, waiting to see if her reaction would grow any more intense, but she recovered gradually, straightened up in her seat and stared intently at the pale yellow wall at the front of the room.

  She was waiting.

  They were all waiting.

  Eli turned his head to look at Ben, who grinned again without amusement and bounced his shoulders a couple of times. He was all right, though, and after a moment began to pick at a bit of lint on the cuff of his shirt.

  Someone in the theater giggled nervously and was immediately hushed.

  “Maybe we’re–” Ben began.

  Then a bubbling sob erupted somewhere in the back of the theater. No one turned to look; no one dared to. For a few seconds the room was as silent as death; then that single sob turned into a cascade of them, a gulping, breathless flood of noise, full of despair and pain. Chin dipped toward his chest, Ben whispered, “Get it together. Come on, get it together,” but the weeping continued.

  Eli turned his head a little.

  He couldn’t see the person who was sobbing, but it was easy enough to find the section of the theater they were sitting in; everyone in that area was twitching and shifting, desperate to get away.

  He heard one of the doors creak open. Light flooded in from the lobby.

  “Don’t look,” Ben hissed. “It won’t help.”

  The weeping became a wail, then a scream. Eli risked a single, heartbeat-long glance toward the back, and spotted a man flailing in his seat. The people seated around him were trying to shrink away – a reaction that never accomplished much – as the man clawed at the air, jumping and convulsing as if he were being electro-prodded, all the while howling a single word: “NooooOOOOOO!”

  Eli shifted his attention to his knees, as did Ben.

  They didn’t need to see what was happening, because the routine never changed. By now, Security would be approaching the screamer, pushing in past the people seated around him, and seizing the offender by the arms. The screaming didn’t stop as they lifted the man to his feet and hauled him to the aisle.

  In front of Eli, a young couple – brand-new workers, he guessed – began to tremble and clutch each other.

  “Count,” Eli whispered without lifting his head. “Just count it off. Take deep breaths. It’ll be over soon.”

  The screaming changed pitch, turned shrill and piercing.

  “God,” the girl whimpered. “Oh God.”

  “Count,” Eli told her through his teeth.

  Generally, people counted silently. A few did it in murmurs. The girl began to count aloud and got to “five” before her companion hushed her and grabbed her into an embrace. “Take deep breaths,” the boy told her. “Remember what they said. It’s all good. We had a great time, right? And we’ll be home soon.”

  Home, Eli thought.

  Lida would be there. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d stay out with her friends for another couple of hours.

  Maybe he’d have some peace and quiet.

  “They’re gone,” Ben said softly.

  The sound wasn’t. Some of it was an echo, the imprint the screaming had left behind. But some of it was still real, the fading noise of that man being carried across the lobby, down the corridor and through the black door that was almost too far away to see, the one that said in big red letters NO ADMITTANCE.

  The sound didn’t fade completely until the lights began to come up.

  “You’d think one time… that we could do this one time, and that wouldn’t happen,” Ben groaned.

  “We do,” Eli said. “Come on. Most of the time, it doesn’t happen.”

  Ben frowned at him. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

  Shaking his head, Eli leaned forward, toward the young girl who was trembling in her partner’s embrace. “It only happens once in a while,” he told her firmly. “You had bad luck this time, that’s all.”

  She looked at him with big, startled eyes. “Really?”

  “Maggie,” the boy said.

  “Once in a while,” Eli assured her. “Don’t let it stop you from coming.”

  She blinked at him a couple of times, her face full of doubt. She’s too young, Eli thought. She was eighteen, maybe a little bit older –
among the youngest class of workers – but if she’d been twice that old, it wouldn’t have guaranteed that she’d be able to shrug off a screamer. At twenty-nine, Eli still had trouble doing it.

  “You should go home now,” he told her.

  The theater was nearly empty by the time he finally struggled to his feet. Ben stood close at hand as he moved into the aisle, and when Eli turned to look at him, Ben raised an eyebrow.

  “You okay?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah. I’m… yeah. Sure.”

  “The trip was good?”

  “It was fine. It was great.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Same place. The stream.”

  “By yourself, I suppose.”

  “Of course,” Eli said. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  Ben chuckled softly, a sound that was almost a snort. “When you can let your imagination run wild? You’ve got very old-woman tastes, my friend. Me? Soft sheets, soft music and… soft companionship.”

  “You’re gonna embarrass yourself again.”

  “Me and half the people in the theater. Like anybody cares.”

  “Maybe Lida’s right,” Eli muttered.

  “There’s a first. Right about what?”

  “The pills.”

  “They don’t accomplish anything. All they do is make you groggy. Isn’t it you who keeps telling me that?”

  Shaking his head, Ben wrapped a hand around Eli’s arm and steered him out into the lobby. No one ever lingered out there, and Ben – as always – was determined not to start a trend, but as they reached the doors leading to the street Eli swung his head and looked down that long corridor, toward the black door he’d never seen anyone pass through. It was closed, of course, and undoubtedly locked.

  “Can we get out of here, please?” Ben said.

  There was a note of nervousness in his voice, and he was leaning toward the outside, toward the heat and dust and the twenty minutes it would take them to get home.