Cal closed his eyes. Through his eyelids he could see the dead stare of Cameron looking back, as fresh in his mind as the day his friend fell over six years earlier. “I don’t need to know,” he muttered as he shook off the vision and focused on her once more.
“Manda was next. We thought we’d sneak into this little store in the middle of nowhere. Nebraska, I think. Only the shop owner was living inside and didn’t want to share what he had. He grabbed her and put a gun to her head, told us to leave. Only when we were all outside, he shot her anyway. Supposed to teach us a lesson or something.” Her stare wandered to some point off in the distance, and her voice followed. “We learned it. We never made that mistake again. The next time we came across a stash of food like that we made sure to take care of its owners first. You ever cut anyone’s throat, Cal?”
“No,” he replied softly.
“It’s only hard the first time, when you still think of them as someone’s daddy or mommy. But when you haven’t eaten in three days, the cross hanging on their neck or the baby screaming in the crib doesn’t mean a thing. Neither do all the prayers they say to the Lord. God doesn’t make two cans of beans out of one. He can’t make bread out of nothing either.”
Fuck. She’s killed… no, I can’t believe it. I mean, she… would she? Could she?
“Then we heard about this guy up in Chicago who was supposed to be building his own ship. And he needed people, real people, to keep things square and to go with him when it was finished.” Her laugh was slow and quiet, but it made his spine tingle and his skin crawl. “I only thought that was the end of our problems. Maybe if Mike didn’t get his brains blown out on the way there, he’d have talked some sense into me. It was too good to be true. Sure, the great Harcourt Young was building his ship alright. And he was giving away the plans to smaller ships for free, so that anyone who could scrounge up some steel and a nuke could get away. But to be a part of his trip to the stars was something special. You had to provide for him in some way. A lot of the guys did it with their lives. They died to protect his ship while it was finished up. That’s how Tae died, by the way. One of the gangs that tried to roll up and take the ship, he died taking them down.”
Cal began to shake, and he wondered how much more of her story he could bear to listen to. He had taken for granted the fact that his friends would have died long ago on Earth, but the specter of each face haunted him as she listed how each of them met their end. “I don’t need to know every detail…”
“Yes you do, you shit,” she interrupted, narrowing her eyes until they were almost slits. “You can’t sit there and judge me, or keep pretending that you’ve had it so hard. You don’t have a clue, so I have to spell it out for your dumb ass. I have to tell you how each of your friends died because you and your daddy left them to rot on that rock. I have to tell you that I was that fucking righteous prick’s personal whore for three years just to get a ride on his ship. You gotta understand every God damned thing I did just to get here. How low I had to go every day just to see the next sunrise. Now I’m here. Now I’m finally fucking free, and there’s even someone here I know from before all this shit happened. But all I get from him is the cold shoulder. So yeah, Cal. Unless you can tell me what’s been so hard in your life that it could hold a candle to what I’ve been through, you don’t get to be such a dick. Ever.”
“You want to know?” He snapped at her. The suddenness and volume of his growl made his throat sting almost at once. “Yeah, your life’s been shit, but don’t think that mine’s been an easy ride.”
“Try me,” she shot back, crossing her arms and leveling a glare at him. The harsh tone of her voice was matched by the barrier she presented with her body language, taunting him with the preconception that he could not possibly counter her story.
He took a deep breath, cycling it out silently and slowly before drawing another in. “Did you dream when you were asleep?”
She shook her head, though the movement was subtle.
“I did. All the time. At first they were weird. The kind you’d remember for the first few minutes after waking up and be freaked out about, but by the time you had breakfast you’d forgotten them. Then I woke up. Alone. I’d ask if you ever did that on the ship, but I know the answer.”
Brittany’s lip curled into a sneer, but she did not respond otherwise.
“That’s something that will creep you out. You’re all alone, in space, on a ship you know nothing about. It starts to get to you after a few minutes. You start to wonder if something’s gone wrong and you have to fly it somehow, but you know that you can’t. That was my introduction to space. It didn’t get much better from there. I chose to go back to sleep, but the dreams weren’t weird anymore. They were vivid. Unimaginable.”
As Cal blinked, terrible memories of all he had seen in the world of his psyche came back in a flood. Whorls of smoke drifted through his vision, accompanied by flames, and the unmistakable image of Alexis under the tree in his dreams, the field beneath her drenched in her blood. His mind recalled one sound, a whisper borne by the wind ten thousand times as he slept.
Monster.
“Take the three worst moments in your life. Play them over and over, minute after minute, for years on end. Then imagine you can’t escape them ever, because you’re in a dream, and no matter how much you want to, you can’t wake up. That is what stasis was for me. A nightmare on loop that I couldn’t break.” Cal sighed and laughed feebly. “And the planet didn’t set me free either. I’ve been shot at, shoved around, and watched my friend die right in front of me, and I couldn’t do shit about any of it. I’ve starved and been frozen to the edge of death and come back, only to have my shining light, the woman I loved more than life itself, die. And I was helpless. I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. Fuck, Brittany… I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. And now every day I have to stare at her eyes every time I look at my child. Reminding me of what I lost.” He glared at her angrily. “I don’t even have an escape. You can just drink yourself stupid every night and forget. I can’t. Besides the fact that I’ve got to be responsible for Andrea, the alcohol brings back the demons that my forty year nap so graciously gifted me with. So don’t tell me that I don’t understand.”
“You don’t…”
“Understand what it’s like to sleep with someone to stay alive? You’re damn right. But don’t tell me I don’t know about survival.” He watched as she angrily snatched the bottle of whiskey and uncorked it. “We all do what we have to.”
Brittany poured another drink and knocked it back. This time she didn’t wince or flinch. The bottle slammed down on the counter nearly hard enough to make Cal jump. “Well you didn’t have to invite me over tonight. You could’ve just let me walk away and gone back to your… your perfect life here on this shitty dust ball. So what do you want?”
Cal sighed and slumped in his chair. “I need a True, Britt.”
“A what? Speak English, Cal. I’m not from around here if you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“A True Favor. One that may be difficult to ask of you. One that can’t be repaid in money. But your return is guaranteed. If you do me a True, you get one in return whenever you want.”
Brittany cackled hysterically in response. “Why? Why should I do that?”
“Because you have an old friend in need.”
“I don’t think our ideas of friendship are exactly lining up here, Cal.”
Cal sighed and folded his hands on the counter in front of him. “Look, I’m sorry about everything I’ve said. I know it’s not excuse, but I’ve been going through a pretty rough patch lately. The timing of your arrival was, let’s say, not great. A month sooner or a couple months later would have made all the difference in the world. Just please, Brittany. For old time’s sake?”
She scowled at him for a moment, but then the lines on her face softened. Though clearly not pleased with the idea, she nodded amicably. “What is it, then?”
Cal chewed on
his lip as he composed his thoughts, clarifying them through the haze of the alcohol. “Governor Owens has been missing for a while. From what I’ve seen and what I know of him, I believe he was kidnapped. There’s a whole bunch of stuff behind the scenes that I don’t want to get into right now. The short version is this: someone on Mercy knows something. Either they saw something, or they’re responsible. It would be really helpful if someone on the inside could keep their ear to the ground, maybe ask around a bit.”
“And if it’s one of my friends, you want me to tattle on them? Is that it?” she sneered.
“Honestly, yes. We haven’t had any crime here in years, Britt. Squabbles and disagreements, sure, but nothing like this. If someone on Mercy is willing to kidnap Darius, who knows what else they’ll do. They need to be stopped.”
“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll keep an ear out. For old time’s sake. But you owe me, got it?”
“Got it.” They stood up and shared an awkward moment of silence. Brittany’s eyes once again found the floor, and she turned around. “Britt,” he started, reaching out for almost instinctively.
She wheeled around, her eyes still bloodshot and watery. “Yeah?”
“If you ever need to talk… you know, about anything. I’m here for you.”
Brittany smiled weakly, then turned and left the store. Cal dropped back into his chair, which creaked in protest. He pushed out a long, slow breath of air. The tips of his fingers brushed against the whiskey bottle’s cork.
“Well, shit. That didn’t go well.” He poured himself another drink, raising the cup in toast to himself. “Here’s to opening up old wounds.”
Gov Darius Owens
19 July, 6 yal, 15:44
Lost in the wilderness west of Concordia
Darius shivered and twitched, his teeth chattering together like ivory pebbles. The creek lapped gently at his knees as they sunk into the cold sand at the torrent’s edge. The water was crystal clear in the middle of the channel, though the embankment that hung overhead cast a shadow that gave the illusion of an inky puddle at his fingertips. He cupped his hands together and drew a drink to his parched lips. It was cold and pure, though not nearly enough to satisfy his thirst. He bent over the creek and quickly took his fill, coughing as the nearly frozen liquid made its way down his burning throat. Icy drops rolled down his sweat-beaded chin, mixing with caked on dust and grime.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself for what he had to do next. It’ll just take five seconds. Five seconds, that’s all.
A stifled howl of pain escaped his lips as he lifted his right shoulder, peeling the tattered remains of his shirt over his head. His chest and shoulder burned like fire, even after his arm returned to his side. Gritting his teeth, Darius gently rinsed and scrubbed the shirt in the shallow eddy, trying to ignore the pus and blood that wept from part of the caked-over wound. The Montoya’s grizzly bear—more commonly known by Concordians as a reaper bear—hadn’t hit him squarely. The fact that he was still alive and breathing was proof enough of that. But it was infected, and he was on his own. He had lost his bearings long ago, and had no clue how far away civilization might be.
Once he was finished with the shirt, Darius wrung it out and meticulously laid it out on a rock. He then splashed water on his face, rubbing away some of the grit. The cold contrast against his burning skin brought his fading senses back to focus. He sighed and looked at the shadowy pool in front of him.
Fifteen seconds, that’s all. It’ll just take fifteen seconds.
Darius took a few deep breaths, then held his breath. He splashed water from the creek on his wound, which burned twice as hot as before. A sound rose in his throat that was equal parts scream and growl. He cautiously cleaned the surface of the wound, washing away dirt and yellow-red blood. The rinse also peeled away most of the herbal salve that he had applied to it earlier in the day. He repeated this task on the smaller wound on his left hip. Once the task was done, he collapsed onto his back, giving in to the spinning sensation that engulfed him. It was all he could to do shut out the pain, and the world nearly faded to black.
Darius couldn’t tell how much time had passed before the wound’s fire returned to a mere hammering throb. He returned to his feet and donned his shirt, which was now half-dry due to the day’s heat. The gouges in his shoulder were no longer protected by the garment, and it was in danger of losing what little integrity it had left. He grumbled and walked downstream along the north bank of the creek, scanning the nearby foliage. His stiff stride left scuffs and tiny ruts in the layer of detritus that blanketed the dirt.
A couple minutes later he came across a patch of tarverberry bushes just above the bank cut. He scrambled up to them, eating the round, bitter, black berries as quickly as he could pluck clusters from the wide, squat bushes. He quickly became full, though he still choked down a few more as he had no way of carrying them with him. His stomach churned and revolted, but he managed to keep them down. After a minute’s rest, he stripped the leaves off of one branch and continued on, this time staying in the trees.
Come on, he thought, scanning the forest floor nervously. There’s got to be some here.
There as a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head around quickly enough to aggravate the shoulder wound. But the momentary discomfort was worth it. Darius locked on to a small yellow bird that had taken wing, and followed its course. It curved once or twice, but came to perch on a rust spruce, where the bird’s sight immediately dropped to the ground below it.
Gotcha.
Darius made a line directly for the tiny Clark’s sparrow. As he approached the tree, the bird startled and took flight again. He ignored it, interested only in the cluster of tiny white flowers on thin stalks that grew at its base. Darius dropped to his knees and tore them out of the ground, shearing the roots off and adding them to the leaves he had collected earlier. Without wasting any time he then returned to the creek’s edge, where he found a large, flat rock. He placed the herbs on top, then ground them together with another rock. Every few strokes he dripped two or three drop of water into the mixture, until he had a pale, greenish-brown paste.
He dabbed his finger in the paste, then traced along the wound as gently as he could while still coating it with the salve. It burned for a moment, but then was replaced with a cooling sensation. Darius finished applying the medicine, then leaned back against a tree and sighed in relief.
Thanks, Doc.
Darius smiled and shook his head, imagining Dr. Taylor giving him a lecture about the importance of taking time to learn about the world. At the time she gave it, he couldn’t imagine that he would need to know about Demeter’s medicinal herbs. Now the fragments of that lesson that he could still recall were all that kept the infection in his wound from overrunning the rest of his body.
“Yeah, you told me so,” he replied. He knew she wasn’t there, but it felt good to say his piece. Even hearing his own voice was assuring in a way. It was a reminder that he was still alive, and that he wasn’t beaten yet. It was equally assuring that he was only imagining and not hallucinating. This was a marked improvement over the past two days, when the fever had left him delirious and unable to move.
He could hear the doctor delivering a harsh rebuke, and ordering him to take it easy and rest. It was the next logical thing that she would say to him under the circumstances, though a conversation they had never had face to face.
“Sorry, Doc. I can’t do that. Gotta press on. I need to find my way home and make Young and his men answer for what they’ve done.”
Darius collected himself and continued to parallel the creek as it headed downstream. Though he wasn’t sure where exactly he was, he knew one certainty about his location: this creek emptied into the Fairweather.
If I make it there, I can make it home.
After little more than an hour, his stomach was growling fiercely, and the light had all but drained from the sky. More tarverberries and
a couple crunchy, foul-tasting beetles helped to keep the hunger away. A root-cave served as his shelter for the night. But nothing could keep out the bitter chill as the world plunged into darkness. His tattered clothes were no match for the cold, and Darius could only shiver through the miserable night.
Calvin McLaughlin
20 July, 6 yal, 06:09
North Concordia
“Shhh,” Cal soothed as he gently rocked Andrea in his arms.
Her cries seemed desperate, though he couldn’t figure out what it was she needed. She had already refused a bottle. He had changed her just a few minutes earlier, and she hadn’t been awake for long. Yet her insistence that something was wrong split his emotions. On one hand, he felt guilty that he couldn’t find the source of her discomfort. On the other, he was growing increasingly enraged that she wouldn’t just settle down.
Cal paced back and forth under the cover of the shed, whispering gently to her. The exercise was as much for his sanity as it was to try to settle Andrea. It seemed to help with the former, at least. A couple minutes of wandering wore down his frustration enough to where his jaw was no longer grinding.
The break from work did nothing for his productivity. Though he could let the still idle for a while, Cal risked ruining the viability of his biodiesel if he delayed much longer. His eyes darted back and forth between the bassinet and the steel cauldron atop the larger of the standalone heating elements.
Well, I guess I can let it go and salvage the glycerin if it turns.
Cal turned the burners off and went inside to retrieve Andrea’s diaper bag, which was already loaded for the day. He had hoped to be able to work through the day while still tending to his daughter, but that dream had already faded away. As he slung the bag over his shoulder he paused for a moment.
I wonder if she’s sick, he thought. Beth might be better prepared to handle her.
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 123
