War_Apocalypse

by JC Andrijeski

  In their place, longer, deeper and wider planter boxes filled almost every available inch of space.

  The earth-filled boxes curved around and even over canals like the loops in a Celtic labyrinth. As I stared around, I realized those same boxes had been built to fit precisely within and stand flush against the atrium’s walls, to maximize space.

  Tiny, bright-green plant shoots stood in neat rows in the rich, red-brown earth.

  A row of tiny lights hung over the planters, abnormally bright, like sunlight.

  The new shoots stood only inches high, but it struck me that if enough of them grew tall enough, the room really would function as a giant labyrinth––like one of those hedge mazes, only with more visibility. The plants were too young to be able to distinguish much about what they were, but I knew the way seers thought.

  This was food.

  Vegetables. Grains. Probably fruit trees. They would have prioritized crop space by the highest number of mouths fed, and the fastest growing cycles.

  Once that much clicked, a few more things grew obvious.

  My eyes returned to the pond below the waterfall’s crashing streams. Noting again that it looked darker than before, I glanced at the canals and saw that those appeared darker, too.

  As we passed over a small footbridge between planter boxes, I stared down at the water, and saw the stream stocked full of fish. The koi, which had sprinkled the water in colorful clusters prior to our leaving, had either been removed or they were buried under that mass of their tastier and less dramatically-pigmented cousins.

  Dark and iridescent flashes of what looked like trout filled the length of each stream, along with what might have been young salmon and maybe tilapia or catfish.

  Other fish I couldn’t name swam there, too, but all looked like varieties of freshwater game fish. The entire pond at the base of the waterfall was teeming with them, reminding me of old movies of spawning grounds they showed us in science class.

  “Holy moly,” I breathed.

  Revik squeezed my hand.

  When I glanced up, I saw him looking around us, his expression serious.

  We had gone from living in a pseudo-terrorist camp with survivalist tendencies to being part of a small but clearly aiming-for-self-sustaining colony.

  Thinking about that, and glancing around the wide space, I frowned.

  It still wouldn’t be enough. I thought about how big the hotel was, how many rooms, and suddenly, the crop space looked woefully small. Hell, it looked small compared to the line of people behind us, waiting to be fed by the Red Flag.

  “There are more fish on the roof,” said a voice cheerfully to my left. “And this isn’t the only greenhouse. Or the only place we’re growing food.”

  I turned, jumping.

  Oli stood there, one of the female infiltrators from Wreg’s unit, and one of those left behind when we went to San Francisco. I knew her as a relatively recent addition, recruited from the refugee camp Balidor set up on the lower floors of the hotel.

  She’d already earned a good reputation with the other seers.

  I’d been told she had an impressive sight-ranking, too. She’d been picked up by Sweeps as an illegal in Paris, something like eight months ago, even though she’d been contracted to a human company there. She suspected it happened because she had familial ties to radical Mythers in Europe, but I couldn’t help wondering if it was mainly because of her skin color, which was dark enough to make her look African.

  I knew from Revik that seers like her could go for a cool million in slave auctions, even if they had no infiltration skills whatsoever.

  “…They have more plants growing on the roof, too,” she added, a strong French accent still showing in her English. “Those are a little newer. We needed to build retractable shades for the weather, first, given how intense the storms have been lately.”

  I nodded, but sighed a little.

  No more swimming pool.

  “Yes,” Oli agreed, smiling. “The indoor pool has these fish, too. The very top floors, above yours, they are mostly filled with animals now.” She laughed, making that exaggerated eye roll and hand wave of seers. “We have six medium-sized suites filled with chickens alone.” Folding her arms, she smirked. “We are still getting supplies from outside for now, so none of this is needed right away. This is for later. We will be storing, drying, preserving…freezing. You understand. It takes time to grow these things. We must prepare.”

  Unconsciously copying her pose, I folded my arms as I looked around. “How long before the supply lines dry up, and we really are living in a giant, immovable ark?”

  The violet-eyed seer grinned.

  “Soon, maybe,” she said cheerfully. “We estimate as soon as a month’s time, so it is wise to prepare. Our own stores won’t last without replenishment, not with so many new additions, and more all the time. And there is no word yet, on us moving from this place.”

  She motioned around the room, as if to make her point.

  I nodded, keeping my expression neutral as I glanced at Revik.

  He raised an eyebrow in return.

  I didn’t bother to read him that time. I found I knew what he was thinking anyway.

  He was practical to the bone, so of course he would approve of this approach. He likely would have started it as soon as the disease hit San Francisco, if it had been remotely practical to do so. Back then, New York was still open, and the House on the Hill was still a park-side, five-star hotel, even if its overall capacity had been severely reduced due to our team having taken up residence here.

  Smiling at Oli, I gestured a thank you for the explanation before making my way between the curved planter boxes towards the main lobby. I still had The Third Jewel in my head, and more to the point, my favorite coffee drink, assuming they weren’t closed with a line of humans wrapped around the front lobby, as well.

  As we passed through the automatic doors leading out of the atrium, I saw that planter boxes filled most of the enclosed circle around the atrium, as well, which used to provide a wide promenade lined with padded benches facing high-end shops.

  Surprisingly––to me, anyway––the shops themselves still appeared to be intact, and some even looked open for business.

  I knew that couldn’t possibly be the case for much longer.

  The promenade itself was now only a narrow corridor, rimmed with dirt-filled planters along with heating lamps and what must be irrigation pipes feeding in through openings in the organic-paned walls.

  I felt like I'd been transported onto an alien spaceship.

  Once we entered the main lobby, I found myself staring around all over again.

  The first thing I noticed was how dark it was.

  The high glass doors that used to look out to Central Park South and Fifth Avenue had been covered over in shimmering black and green panes, clearly made of some kind of dense organic. I assumed they must be bullet-proof––possibly blast-proof, as well. Even so, my more practical side began turning over just how much firepower they could likely withstand, particularly if we got hit by anything serious.

  Glancing up, I realized the light I did see was all artificial.

  Crystal chandeliers blazed from iron chains bolted into the vaulted ceiling. The ceiling ended against the largest of three banks of elevators, lit up and still visible through four or five stories of glass partitions, but now only to us. Remembering the dramatic view those elevators used to create from the street outside, I sighed internally a little.

  Planters filled part of this room, too, but only on the end furthest from the registration desks and the corridor into the atrium. Most of the lobby now reminded me of some kind of old-style bus terminal. All of the chairs and couches had been relocated here, along with the palm trees and other plants missing from the atrium. People took up most of the couches and chairs, human and seer. Some were curled up on the couches and even the floor, asleep.

  Others lounged in clusters, reading, watching vids, talking.r />
  Behind the several rows of planter boxes, the giant wall mural remained, as imposing as ever, depicting the Old House on the Hill in India, and its garden of white-limbed trees and seer statues of white, hard stone––stone of a type I never managed to identify. The mural’s snowy mountains stood tall and dramatic behind a depiction of the lower foothills of the Himalayas, which also housed the mud and tile-roofed buildings that once made up Seertown.

  Of course, the mural showed Seertown at its peak––back when it housed something like three hundred thousand seers. Five hundred thousand, if you counted the outer districts that fell outside of the major seer treaties, both with the Rooks and the World Court.

  I found myself lost for a moment, staring at that mosaic of colored stones, taking in the detail of the trees, mountains, houses, birds, faces, bright prayer flags. As I did, I was hit with a sudden and overwhelming coil of grief.

  It wasn’t only Seertown itself.

  I missed Vash.

  Seemingly more every day, I missed the kind-hearted, insightful, and scarily-talented old guy. I missed his light. I missed his laugh.

  More selfishly, I missed his ability to bring clarity to even the murkiest of situations, and to lift the group as a whole when we were at our most desperate.

  I had a feeling I would miss him even more in the coming weeks.

  Before I could go any deeper into that thought, sounds erupted from the lobby floor, pulling my attention off the mural and that whole end of the room.

  Someone had identified Revik and I, or noticed us, maybe.

  Cheers broke out, startling me.

  Those cheers turned into foot-stomping, whistles, even laughter.

  Not all the sounds came from faces I knew.

  Even at that early hour, the lobby seemed to be filled to overflowing.

  People, luggage, furniture, boxes and carts covered the carpeted floor. I saw animals, too, including the dog and cat variety, which surprised me, given the food issues Oli just outlined. I didn’t see a lot of animals of that kind, certainly not compared to the number of people I saw lounging on the gold-fabric couches, curled up on jackets and bags and sitting by the hearth of the massive, gated fireplace that stood across from the stone mural, but I saw enough to double-take a few times.

  Since it couldn’t have been much later than six in the morning, the sheer number of people staring at us baffled me, even apart from the cat-calls and clapping.

  The applause and whistles died down after Revik gave a friendly wave to the room in general, but I could still see the shining eyes of seers grinning at us, and murmurs as we passed. From the surprise and relief on their faces, I had to assume they’d feared we were dead, or else captured or stuck somewhere, or worse.

  There were just so many of them.

  “Yeah,” another voice said, popping up next to me. “Spooky, that. Even for us. And we were here when they hauled most of ‘em in.”

  I turned, and that time found myself facing Torek, another ex-Rebel.

  He nodded to the people scattered around the room, pursing his lips as his dark gold eyes continued to smile at me.

  “…We got a new batch just last night,” he added to me, giving Revik a one-armed hug. “Can’t even tell you how good it is to see the two of you…” he continued in his crisp, British accent, smiling at me warmly. “We got the notice you were coming, of course. Everyone worried the communication was misinformation. When the walls came down over the city like that, I’m afraid we assumed the worst. Including with the two of you.”

  “How many do you have?” Revik said, looking around the lobby floor. “You kept working, right? On the Lists? A lot of these look like they came from Europe and Asia.”

  Torek followed his eyes. Nodding, once, he answered more formally that time. His seer accent came out when he did.

  “We estimate 46% of the seer list has been collected or otherwise accounted for, sirs. Last I heard, it was 59% for the humans. We’ve been prioritizing the human list, like you asked.”

  He grimaced, shrugging with one hand. “Of course, that number includes the ones we know are dead, or who got killed during extraction attempts. Or prior to that, during the research phase. Still, not bad, all in all. We got a whole load of humans in right before the gates came down, which was lucky as hell.”

  “You mean most of these are… human?” I stared around the lobby in bewilderment.

  Torek laughed, still touching both of us with his hands, as if compulsively.

  “How could you doubt it, Esteemed Bridge? Here we are facing war and probable starvation… that is, if the ‘quakes, volcanos, floods and tsunamis don’t kill us, first… and this lot’s worried about whether they can bring their fifteen-year-old, arthritic cat, ‘Fluffy,’ along for the ride.”

  “I just mean…” I hesitated. “I mean. They clapped…”

  Torek laughed louder, rubbing my back in a friendly way.

  “Well… yes, my beautiful sister!” he said, beaming. “Given everything, wouldn’t you clap? Most of this lot would be out in that hell right now if we hadn’t pulled them in, now wouldn’t they? We still have access to the feeds. They see what’s going on outside these walls. They know there’s riots, no power, murder, disease, soon to be no food or water. They figure you saved ‘em.” He smiled. “You did, too. They might be worms, but they’re not totally daft.”

  I just stared around at faces, trying to take all that in.

  “They're all on the list?" I said finally.

  “All but a fair-few husbands, wives, siblings and whatnot,” Torek confirmed with another deadpan scan of the room. “We just now finished processing all the humans through decontamination. All but a few of those on the actual list are totally immune. We had to turn a few of the non-listers away, which didn’t make us so popular, let me tell you.”

  He gave us a humorless smile. “Now we just have to figure out how to feed the rest. And find them rooms, of course. We’ve got more extras now that the hotel wing has been completely shut down, but still, at this rate, we’re going to be assigning bunk-mates, soon enough.”

  “We brought more,” Revik said with a faint grin.

  “So I hear,” Torek said with a returning smile, clicking at him in mock reproach. “Thanks a hell of a lot for that, by the way, brother boss. And here we went and cleared you and yours a nice big table at the Third Jewel. Honoré’s already working on the grub.”

  “Thank you, God,” I muttered.

  “That’s gods, pet,” Torek grinned, rubbing my back again. “We can’t go all human just because we’re being overrun.”

  He kissed me on the cheek, reminding me again how different he was from the other ex-Rebels, who’d primarily been raised in Asian work camps before being pulled by Salinse, and later, by Revik himself.

  Revik told me he recruited Torek personally. He’d been one of Revik’s few infiltrator pals back when he lived in England. He’d also been well-connected enough to bring quite a few seers with him, including a few who followed us here to New York.

  Come to think of it, I’d never heard the story on how the two of them met.

  “Join us?” Revik said to Torek, grabbing my hand and motioning towards the restaurant with his head.

  Even so, I felt his light react to the kiss Torek gave me, and to Torek’s hands on me, which told me he really was feeling more paranoid and deprived than usual––enough that he was getting touchy, like he had been in Argentina, and really, since the wedding.

  I moved closer to him, merging my light deeper into his, and felt him relax at once, especially when I withdrew it in more than equal proportions from the vicinity of Torek’s.

  “Can’t, mate,” Torek said, winking at me. From his knowing grin, he must have felt the shift in light. Still smiling, he added, “I’m in charge of sorting out this mess. At least until Balidor and Jon get here, and Wreg gets off his ass, and…”

  Trailing, Torek hesitated, doing a quick double-take at me, right before he glanc
ed down my body, a puzzled look on his face. He looked about to say something, when I felt a dense bolt of light leave Revik’s aleimi, strong enough that I flinched.

  Considering I hadn’t felt anything remotely sexual in Torek’s one glance, I was instantly annoyed.

  “What the hell was that?” I said, looking at Revik. “Seriously. What was that?”

  Revik didn’t take his eyes off Torek, or stop frowning.

  Torek just smiled, but I saw understanding touch his gold eyes, right before he saluted to Revik. “Sorry, boss,” he said. “…and understood. I’ll pass the word.”

  “What ‘word’ is that?” I muttered. “That he’s totally lost his mind?”

  Torek laughed louder at that. When Revik gave him an annoyed look, I shoved at his chest, pushing him roughly in the direction of the Third Jewel.

  “Okay, enough testosterone poisoning for you,” I said. “I need coffee.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Torek called after us, winking at me. “Is it my fault your wife’s a dish?”

  Revik clicked at him, his eyes holding an open anger that time.

  I pushed at him again. “For crying out loud. You are a total piece of work right now. I’m not even sure if you should be allowed in public, honestly.”

  Unapologetic, Revik only looked over my head, giving Torek a last, warning stare when the British seer laughed again, probably from watching me push Revik towards the other side of the lobby. I smacked Revik again, but he barely flinched.

  I stared up at his face in disbelief as he continued to watch Torek, but not once did I see a flicker of remorse on his angular face.

  17

  BARBARIAN

  “…DON’T WORRY ABOUT it,” Revik said, waving off my words. He slid into the leather booth next to me, settling so he half-leaned on my side. “It’s not a big deal.”