Half Way Home

by Hugh Howey

  Much of my initial shock came from pity for the poor animal—as frightening as the thing had seemed to me mere moments before. But it was my own shame at having such a strong reaction that left me suddenly feeling as if I weren’t a part of the group.

  Later, while the smell of the animal roasting over the fire drifted around our camp, I moved to a low spot in the tree’s tunnel and ate raw bombfruit, feeling as sorry for myself as I did the dead vinnie.

  “You sure you don’t want some?” Kelvin asked when he came over to check on me.

  “I’m positive,” I said, thankful he was considerate enough to not come bearing a portion of the animal on a stick.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I laughed at him and scooted over, leaving room in the tunnel for him to sit and swing his legs. “That’s my line,” I said.

  Kelvin grunted. “Maybe we’re the ones that’re messed up.” He nodded back toward the campfire.

  I didn’t accept his diagnosis, but it did make me feel better. I had a sudden impulse to rest my head on his shoulder, to let his strength prop me up similar to the way Tarsi often sank into mine. But I restrained myself.

  “You and Tarsi have fun while we were gone?” he asked.

  I looked over at him and saw his jaw muscles flexing as he clenched and unclenched it over and over. “Look, Kelvin—”

  He reached his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, it’s no big deal. It should be her choice, right?”

  “No, listen to me—”

  “I’m serious, Porter, it’s fine. I’d rather her choose you than half these other guys.”

  “Only half?” I asked, smirking at him.

  “Well, Karl is quite a bit better looking than you—”

  I punched his knee. “Seriously, though, I need to tell you something. I’m—it’s stuff I’m just sorting out on my own. I don’t even know how to say it without freaking you out—”

  “Hey,” he said, standing up and backing away, his hands held high. “I’m cool with you guys being together, but I don’t wanna hear specifics, okay? And I don’t know enough to give you advice, anyway.”

  “No, listen—”

  But it was too late. Not just because Kelvin had backed toward the campfire, but because I could feel the impulse to spill my guts had passed.

  Besides, there’d been quite enough of that for one day.

  ••••

  Even as I abstained from the meat, I had to admit the smell was oddly intoxicating. My mouth watered at the odor of the roasting flesh, even as my brain rejected the idea of eating something dead. It was as if I’d skipped another training program. All I’d been prepared to eat was cultivated crops and protein mixes, but the other boys seemed to know without learning it that moving things were to be chopped up and cooked. And they also seemed to understand the best methods for doing both.

  I finally rejoined the group as they finished eating, wary of ostracizing myself any further. Jorge made one probing jab at my manhood, but a look from Kelvin put a quick end to that. The other boys burped contentedly while the vinnies marched in a circle and my stomach continued to growl.

  Eventually, we began considering our options aloud.

  “Well, we certainly won’t starve to death,” Karl pointed out. “As long as the rains are steady, we’ll be better off than those inside.”

  “The goal has to be more than that,” I pointed out. When everyone turned to me, I clarified: “Beyond just not starving.”

  “You mean long-term,” Britny said. “Like I was saying the other day.”

  “Exactly. I mean building things. And finding a regular source of water, something to irrigate with.”

  “We discussed that on the way down,” Kelvin said. “Vincent was thinking we could hack away some of the canopy up top and rig up tarps to the tunnel. Most of the rain doesn’t even make it to the bottom. It’s all puddled up there on top. We could create a massive flow of it down here, like a river spiraling down.”

  “That still relies on the rains,” I said. “We’ve been awake for almost a month and Colony’s told us very little of the planet—”

  “Are you thinking of the snow on the mountains?” Tarsi asked.

  I nodded. “There must be streams from the runoff. Maybe we should think about—”

  “Who made you the boss?” Jorge asked, leveling his machete at me from the other side of the fire.

  “Nobody,” I said. “I’m just asking questions—”

  “Sounds like you’re making plans,” he said, then made a show of tearing off a bite from a cold piece of meat.

  “Jorge, give it a rest,” Tarsi said.

  “Porter’s right,” Kelvin said. “Peter was trained as a farmer, like me. He may have been thinking the same thing.”

  “I don’t want to go chasing after Peter and Mica on a hunch,” Jorge said. “Besides, who needs farming when we can corral a bunch of vinnies. Right, Vinnie?”

  “We can’t keep calling them that if we’re gonna live off them,” Vincent said, frowning.

  “Agreed,” Britny said, putting her arm around Vincent. Several of us nodded as well.

  “Making any decision is gonna to be impossible like this,” Samson said. “Who here is ranked the highest?”

  “I don’t wanna get that kind of hierarchy going out here,” I told the group.

  Karl pointed at me. “Guess we know who’s ranked the lowest,” he said.

  Everyone laughed, and I had to join in. He smiled to let me know no harm was meant.

  “I’m actually the lowest,” Samson admitted. Several of us already knew that, as he was open with the fact that he’d been in the vat right next to the exit on our birthday, and consequently the first one out. “And I don’t think she’s gonna say anything, but Mindy is probably the highest. Her vat was by Myra’s.”

  We all turned to her, and I saw her face grow redder than any of the sunburned boys.

  “I refuse to lead this rabble,” she said, smiling. “I’m just happy enough not to be mixing propellant for that rocket.”

  “Speaking of which,” Tarsi said, “does anybody have a clue about why we were building that thing?”

  Nobody answered.

  “Should we care?” Britny asked.

  “I think we should care about why this planet was deemed inhospitable,” she said.

  “Lack of metal,” Leila said. “Besides gold,” she added.

  “That’s the rumor,” said Kelvin, “but you sound like you know something.”

  “I know who started the rumor,” Leila said. “Mica told me about it. She’s a geologist, so it could be her bias, but I think she knew what she was talking about. Anyway, everything else about this place is perfect for life—just not good for building more colony ships and sending them off to other planets.”

  “That can’t be it,” Karl said. “They wouldn’t abort us just because it’s nice here but not profitable.”

  “You sure about that?” Leila asked.

  Jorge sneered at me. “What do you think, Porter?”

  I felt my body flush with heat as a wave of faces turned my way. I took a deep breath and peered into the fire.

  “I think the lack of metals makes this a pretty poor planet for colonization. I lean toward Leila and Mica on this. But I also think we need to keep our minds open to something else. There could be seasonal weather we don’t know about, or larger predators. And even though none of us signed anything, our births within the colony make us implicitly a part of a legal structure we’ve now turned our backs on. If the colony does do well, we’re always gonna be outlaws. Besides—and I don’t mean to be crass—but if we don’t have three kids per couple, none of this really means anything beyond our temporary happiness, right?”

  “I call Britny,” Jorge said.

  Several of the boys laughed, but not Vincent.

  “Fuck you, Jorge,” Britny spat.

  “You heard that, right?” he said. “That’s a verbal agreement.�
�

  Everyone laughed even harder, except for Britny and me. Vincent glowered at Jorge and Tarsi reached her hand through my arms and intertwined her fingers with mine. I looked over and saw she wasn’t laughing either.

  “So, have we all agreed to pair off and go roll around in the moss tonight?” Samson asked.

  Mindy was closest to him, so it was left to her to slap his arm.

  “I say we forget about the colony by putting some distance between us and it,” Tarsi offered. “Let’s pretend the day we squeezed through the perimeter fence was our real day of birth and the horrors beforehand were some final training we shared together.”

  The joking fell silent as we mulled that over. I really loved the beauty of the analogy, the ability to pretend the worst of my life had been as unreal as all before it. It reminded me of Myra’s method of coping with the loss of Stevens.

  “I also think we should try and find Mica and Peter,” she said. “If they went toward the mountains, that also works for finding fresh water and getting away from the colony. It’s the best of everything.”

  “I second that,” Britny said.

  A chorus of agreement followed. I squeezed Tarsi to let her know how much I supported the plan, and also how much I appreciated her deflecting the burden of leadership away from me.

  “Well, then,” Vincent said, “I have an idea on how we should get there.”

  “Besides walking?” Mindy asked.

  “Now that you mention it . . . yeah, maybe. I was thinking we should hike back up to the canopy and walk across in a straight shot. It’ll take forever to work our way around the trees.”

  “No way,” Leila said. “And risk falling to our death?”

  “It’s not like that,” Samson said. “The leaves are so packed and stiff, it’s like walking on solid ground.”

  “Except it’s two thousand feet above solid ground,” one of the girls complained. “And it’s a long way up to hike.”

  “Once the rest of you see the sky up there, you’ll understand.”

  “Yeah,” Jorge said. “Besides, I think Mindy had a good idea.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. About not walking. Maybe we can ride the vinnies up!”

  We all turned to look at the large creatures; they continued to worm their way around the small circle—an unending column of dark, shivering fur.

  “We really gotta call them something different,” Vincent said. “It’s creeping me out.”

  • 20 • Up

  Excruciating didn’t quite cover it. The hike up the gradual incline felt more like a stroll along death’s edge. It only took half an hour for my legs to become sore, then my lungs started burning and every step required concentration and brought pain. Even if I hadn’t been overworked and half-starved from the previous weeks, the unending upward stroll would’ve severely taxed me. I like to think it would’ve taxed anyone.

  Several others offered to walk while I rode a vinnie, but I felt as right about that as I did about eating them. The other colonists rode their backs, some of them in pairs. They squealed at first as the follicles of hair squirmed against them but they eventually settled down. I chose to hike at the back of the column, pausing now and then to appreciate the views while gasping for breath. The saving grace with the vinnies was their plodding pace. I could walk and catch up, stop to suck down precious oxygen, then repeat. I tried conserving my water, but we looked to be a mere quarter of the way up by the time I’d drunk half my supply, which forced me to ration it even more judiciously.

  Lunch had to be eaten on the move, as even without the chip dangling in front of the lead vinnie, they didn’t seem to know how to stop. Tarsi dropped off the back of her vinnie and joined me. There was plenty of cooked meat left over; I knew she would prefer to have some of it but she shared my bombfruit instead. We walked and ate in silence, my lungs hardly up for the hike, much less a conversation while I staggered along.

  A few hours after lunch, my legs and lungs were too shot for me to maintain my ethical stance. There was no way I was going to be able to stay with the group unless I took a ride and rested myself. After admitting my defeat, Britny moved off the rear vinnie and joined one further up, leaving me room to join Tarsi. She dropped off and walked beside me, coaxing me along as I huffed and puffed and tried to mount the animal.

  “You have to grab the fur,” she told me.

  I wanted to tell her I was trying but got out nothing more than a wheeze. The way the fur waved, it seemed like its skin was in motion, as if the beast were a living conveyor belt. I tried to keep in mind that the fur along its back wasn’t really being used for locomotion—that it was just the ends waving. I kicked myself for being a wimp and decided to just grab, pull, and apologize.

  I lunged over the back of the vinnie, trying to give more than a half-hearted effort as I grabbed some of the moving bristles. The rest of the fur wiggled across my stomach, sending shivers up and down my spine. I had to hold on pretty tight, or the pushing movement of the hair would’ve sent me right off its ass and onto mine.

  Tarsi pushed at my feet, urging me forward. I let go with one hand and reached up for another hold further up. Pulling myself along, I felt the hair beneath me bend the other direction and the wiggling begin to assist me as I moved up the beast’s back. When I reached the rope circled around its featureless neck, I took hold of it and wiggled side to side the way Tarsi had said, dispersing the hair in either direction.

  With my belly right on the vinnie’s back, it didn’t feel quite as creepy as I thought it would. And not once did the creature seem to notice my weight, neither swaying nor slowing. Tarsi grabbed my calf, then thigh, then pulled herself up until her chest rested on my back, her breath playing across my neck.

  “Is that so bad?” she asked.

  It wasn’t, and I tried to catch my breath to admit it.

  Tarsi left her hands on my shoulders. I felt her head turn sideways and rest on the top of my spine. I shifted my head the other direction to look away from the center of the tree and out at the world moving by. Every few feet, we crept behind one of the jutting outcroppings of bark and our world descended into darkness. Then we would pop out into daylight as the cylindrical tunnel broke through the exterior of the tree at the bases of the cog-like indentions. It was like passing row upon row of open windows, each one providing a beautiful glimpse of the clearing below. In the distance, I could see more trees across a clearing smaller than the one our base occupied. In half a day, we had gone around the perimeter of the tree three times—if I had counted the passing of our wide clearing correctly.

  “How many times do you think we go around to get to the top?” I asked Tarsi.

  “I asked Kelvin the same thing. They thought it was between ten or twelve times.”

  I hugged the vinnie, as appreciative of its service as I could be. “This isn’t too bad,” I told Tarsi, who squeezed my shoulders in response.

  ••••

  I woke some time later to find the tunnel shaded in dusk. Letting go with one hand, I rubbed my eyes and looked out below where large branches reached out of the trunk and up toward the canopy. My shifting seemed to wake Tarsi, who kissed me on the back of the neck and said she needed to stretch.

  Her body slid off of mine as if drug backwards. I lifted my chest and allowed the hairs to stir beneath me. As soon as I pushed back slightly, the vinnie did the rest, its fur carrying me down its back and right off its rump.

  I landed roughly on my hands and knees and tried to stand, my legs still half asleep.

  “How long were we out?” Tarsi asked.

  “You’re asking me?” I stretched my back before setting off after the lumbering vinnies. “I’m pretty sure I fell asleep before you did.”

  Tarsi grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the edge of one of the outcroppings. We gazed out at the land below, my sense of direction destroyed by the nap and looming darkness.

  “Looks like more of those holes down there,” Tarsi said,
pointing to perfectly circular dots scattered across the verdant green.

  “That limb is massive,” I said, pointing out and to the side.

  “I hope that means we’re close.”

  I joined her in looking up, but it was hard to judge how far away the canopy was. “Let’s keep up with the others,” I said, losing sight of the back of the train in the dim light.

  We walked at the rear for almost half an hour, and my lungs and legs started to burn again. Somehow, though, the pain and tiredness weren’t as scary as before, having survived it once. Plus, the psychological boost of knowing I could get on the vinnie at any time prevented any panic from setting in. It was the panic that made the tiredness transform into exhaustion.

  As it grew even darker outside, I took to dragging one hand against the inner wall as I held Tarsi’s tightly with the other. Then, without warning, exhaustion seemed to overtake me, and my legs began shaking uncontrollably.

  “I think I need to go lie down,” I said—

  Then I felt the entire tree move beneath my feet, nearly throwing me to the ground. Beside me, Tarsi’s arms swung wildly, and her hand slipped out of my own. I heard her scream, her voice moving away from me and toward the open air and the great height. Reaching out, groping for her in the darkness, I felt our hands touch several times—the moment of panic stretching out into an eternity of dread. I touched her sleeve, grabbed it, and yanked her close, both of us falling to the floor of the tunnel.

  “What’s going on?” she yelled.

  A symphony of whistles grew outside, the sound of hundreds of bombfruit streaking through the air. I almost got out of my mouth that it was another earthquake when our vinnie crashed into us, his thistles moving in reverse, powering him down the tree.

  Tarsi and I kept hold of each other as the large creature squeezed between us. We clutched with both hands and formed a human bridge over his back as the movement of the hair beneath us tried to propel us up the tree and toward the vinnie’s head.