The Gift of Sky and Soil (Father Sky Book 1)

by Gillian Zane

  What was going on?

  I had been on the designated hiking trail for most of the run, but the trail had narrowed and become more of a game path. I was deeper into the woods than I had ever come. I didn’t have a good grasp on my location or which direction I was headed. I pulled out my phone and was relieved to see I still had a connection. At least I had GPS. I needed to stop being a pussy and get through this run. I glanced at my exercise tracker and did a double-take. I was at almost seven miles now.

  The last two miles had passed in a blink. I barely remembered them. My body was lithe and nothing hurt or ached. But I still had to make it back to my SUV, which meant I had another seven miles to go. I had never run 14-miles before. My brain buzzed with that odd deja vu feeling like I was in some kind of repeat loop. I usually didn’t space out this much on a run, especially not a run in unfamiliar territory.

  I would just go a little farther and then turn around. I had always wanted to be able to run a marathon but thought it might be a little too much for my body. Especially since I wasn't prepared. I had no water or energy snacks which were required when you are a marathon runner. I didn't care.

  I kept going. My feet guiding me with a steady gait, a little faster than the usual pace I set for myself. The soft path had dried out and my feet found great purchase on the packed mud. My guard was down, I was probably getting closer to the highway. I was probably going to pop out at another parking area, which I knew were sporadically placed throughout the reserve. The dry path allowed me to relax a bit, not pay as much attention to my foot placement as I should have. I realized too late that I had made a huge mistake. My foot slipped on a slick patch of mud and I tumbled off the path into a swampy bog area that bordered the trail.

  “Son of a bitch,” I cursed and tried to use a fallen log to pull me out, but my feet sunk into the mud at the bottom of the bog. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move.

  2

  The pack on my back was heavy with my equipment. I adjusted it on my shoulders and gritted my teeth. It wasn’t a pack meant for hiking. I hadn’t expected to go this deep in the woods, but I couldn’t ignore the numbers and the readings I was getting. The trip had been last minute and unplanned, the data undeniable. There was something here. I could feel it.

  I was only about an hour’s drive away from my apartment. This hike would be worth it to get answers. If I could find the origin, it could yield so much as far as answers and possibilities. After college, I had gotten good about following a fitness regime, not wanting to be the skinny science geek anymore. I was in shape, but I was a gym and treadmill kind of guy, CrossFit not hiking, so this wasn’t exactly my forte. I didn’t have the right boots, and the pack was weighing on me heavily. I was going to have to start running with weights because this stupid backpack was making me feeling like a weakling, especially since it probably only weighed about twenty pounds. But I had also been out here for hours. Excuses. Excuses. Nerd boy.

  Looking around, I found a stump I could sit on and pulled out my laptop and connected it to the hotspot on my phone. The connection wasn’t good on the best of days during this current apocalypse, but in this remote area it was proving almost useless. After an excruciating few minutes, I found my coordinates and then the data I had plugged in from the tracking stations in the area. The screen exploded with a purple cloud around my current location, and I gaped at it in amazement. I was smack-dab in the middle of a bloom. I pulled out the testing meter and held it up in the air. It worked like a tiny vacuum, sucking in particles for readings. The numbers flashed, and I ran it again, not trusting that high of a count. It came back the same.

  If I hadn’t been put through a plethora of testing, I would be scared out of my mind. But I had learned early on in the crisis that my body didn’t react to the allergen enough to mutate it for redistribution, so I couldn’t spread it. It was one of the first tests that me and my colleagues had developed and were on the verge of mass producing for the public. You had to have a certain protein to convert that pollen, unfortunately about 97% of the human race had that protein, along with a few other animals which didn’t bode well for our continued existence.

  The board in charge of our research lab had enacted strict protocols at the onset and made sure all the technicians and doctors working on the project were not unknowing spreaders since we would be coming into contact with the pollen and there was no real way to block it. It was one of the reasons I appreciated where I worked, and why they had appreciated me since I didn’t have the protein. I was able to go into the field while the rest of my colleagues were locked up and sporting the only thing that could keep the pollen out of their lungs, these crazy new bio containment suits called BC13s. They got to play in the lab and I got to play in the field.

  I had gotten a lot of jabs from the other academics when I left the University to work for my employer, a company called Harmadeza. They were one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the Southeast region, technically Big Pharma. I left my comfy greenhouse and stuffy classroom at the University where I had done my graduate work to take this job recently, and I was only regretting my choice every other day. I missed teaching. I missed the other academics. I missed not having to produce for little bars on graphs that represented money and sales.

  I had not sold out, though. I wasn’t even making as much money as I was at the university. They had recruited me, and I couldn’t turn away a chance to put an end to this madness. They were working on a vaccine for this latest crisis, using the protein that converted the pollen into a deadly viral like infection. My company was also doing it in a way that didn’t put their employees or the civilians they came in contact with in danger. They were responsibly trying to fix this mess, but it was road block after road block, mostly because this pollen, or the allergen side effect caused by the pollen, was like nothing anyone had experienced before. It was an uphill battle, and we were losing.

  The world had never seen anything like this. It was like the planet was trying to kill us. First, it had been with a virus, killing off about five million of the world’s population before a vaccine was mass produced, then it was another bird flu, taking out twice as many as the original virus. Then after that came volcanic eruptions in South and Central America, tsunamis in the Pacific. Winters that shut down our power grid, and summers that spawned twice as many hurricanes as normal. And now this pollen, which had put the virus and the bird flu to shame. It was simply called Pollen, and it had already reduced the world population by one percent, the devastation in Asian and Africa unprecedented.

  They had unearthed it in an excavation in the Qinling mountain range inside the Chinese African Territory. A new discovery, a tiny plant growing deep in the mountains, but nourished by an old volcano tube that allowed a bit of sunlight and rain to filter down. The plant, growing deep underground, had been touted as a new discovery, a living object from the Triassic era. Bringing it aboveground had a surprising effect; the plant had thrived, and then it had begun to reproduce. The pollen cloud it created from one plant had been massive, filling rooms with its tiny spores that floated through the air like puffs of tiny cotton. The Chinese didn’t mention at first that family members of the scientists studying the plants were getting sick. They didn’t disclose that, again, an unknown virus was plaguing their ranks, while the men and women studying the plants were showing signs of severe allergic reactions.

  This should have clued them in to something being wrong with the plant, but even after thousands had died from a new unknown virus, they had taken clippings of the plant and sent them off to different labs, one of which was in Asia.

  They also didn’t mention that plants near the labs where the clippings were now flourishing were reacting oddly. Changing. Green areas were now full of pollen saturating the air, pollen that strongly resembled the pollen of the unearthed plant. They didn’t disclose this to the public until it was too late. Until they were studying the plant in Europe, Australia, and the Americas.

  The more
advanced countries were mostly studying the changed plants, not the actual original plant or a clipping, but the changed plants were doing plenty of damage themselves.

  China destroyed their samples when it was verified it was the pollen causing the sickness, but it did little. People continued to die. Any plant that was infused with the original plant’s pollen was now a direct replica of the original, not in look or makeup, but in internal function and pollen production. And the pollen killed. It killed by changing its host, much like it changed the flora.

  When someone breathed in the pollen, it would attach itself to that human being and force the body to produce antibodies to fight the allergen, those antibodies are what was devastating to other humans because when they breathed them out, they acted like a virus, attacking humans they came in contact with, like a defense mechanism. When the pollen attached itself to plant life, it changed everything about it, trying to force the plant to resemble the original plant. Roses exposed to the pollen bloomed with flowers the color of walls of the dirt cave they found the plant in. Grass when mowed smelled like bat droppings. The oddest reactions that couldn’t be explained.

  The increase of pollen production in the area I was in was not a normal production, it was patterned as if there was a Plant X in the region, not just a smaller changed plant producer. But there couldn’t be an original plant here, it was impossible. All the original clippings had been destroyed, or that was what they were feeding us on the news. I was sure there were one or two locked away in some government lab in China somewhere.

  The highest concentration was about a half mile west of where I stood. The pollen cloud had been tracked via drones from our lab yesterday. Drones that had been equipped with fancier versions of the reader I was using to test the air. But the numbers they had generated weren’t as high as I was picking up. This was astronomical, and I was beginning to question the safety of being out here. I had proved non-responsive to the allergen, but there was no telling what my body would do when exposed to a highly concentrated amount of the pollen.

  The logical portion of my brain told me to head back. To come back with protective equipment and better testing materials. To possibly bring someone else out here to help me verify, to take samples. But my feet wouldn’t let me turn around. There was no path going forward, another reason to pack it in, yet the call of whatever was out here drew me forward. I had to find the cause of this pollen cloud. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery. And if it was an original plant, I had to destroy it. I felt the pull from a location to my west. Something was out there. Something wanted me to find it.

  I knew where I needed to go.

  3

  Panic began to well in my chest as I tried to pull my feet up and nothing happened. They were stuck, and what was once knee-deep water seemed to be climbing up my thighs. Was this quicksand? I thought that was made up? There is no quicksand in Southern Louisiana!

  “Oh crap, oh crap.” I looked around as the blood pumping through my veins began to pound in my ears. I thrashed and fell back on the log and sank deeper, scratching my hand on a broken limb and causing me to cry out in pain. There was crashing in the underbrush next to me, and I had images of alligators and rabid raccoons spinning through my head.

  Was this going to be how I died? My body never found? Or found later all bloated and nasty and eaten by vermin and bugs? That is not how I imagined my corpse to look. I needed to look at least semi-descent for my wake. Not that anyone would go to my wake, considering you could only gather in groups of five or less. Oh my god, I couldn’t die. I couldn’t die like this.

  This was not how the day was supposed to go. I held my hand up to my face and my gasping, panic filled breath cut off quickly as I saw the deep gash that marred my palm. It wasn’t just a scratch. Blood dripped down my arm to my elbow. I was in knee-deep bacteria filled water with predators that liked bleeding prey, and here I was like an appetizer just waiting to be eaten.

  I had to calm down. I was about to plummet into a full-blown panic attack, and that wouldn’t do me any good. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Get out of my head. Out of my head.

  The crashing from the underbrush came again, and I dropped my head back and screamed, “help,” as loud as I could, even though I knew it made no difference. This was going to be it for Miley Lopez. What a way to go. At least, I would probably get a news article or two.

  4

  Was that someone yelling?

  I must be hearing things. I was deep in the swampy area of the woods; there was no one out here. It wasn’t a particularly popular spot before the crisis, and now with everyone isolated at home, the chance of running into another human was slim to none. I was off the trail completely at this point, and I watched each step I took so I wouldn’t slip into a boggy spot. It hadn’t rained in weeks, so most of the area was dry, but this area turned to swamp quickly and I had to watch each step to make sure I didn’t either slip or find myself in a low spot up to my hip in nasty water.

  The mosquito population was abuzz as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. I rolled my sleeves down to protect from their bites and from the brush that pushed at me from every direction. I doubted my actions at this point. It was getting late, and I was at least two miles from my parking spot. If it got dark and I was stuck out here, I wouldn’t be able to see anything to return to my car.

  “Help!” The shout was close. Right in my direct path. It was a female’s voice, and she sounded like she was in distress. Without a consideration for caution, I began to run, jumping over fallen branches and plowing through the spiked leaves of the palmetto. My only focus was getting to the voice. When my feet sloshed into wet, I stopped short, stepping forward cautiously. I pushed a giant palmetto to the side and saw the woman stuck up to her thighs in swampy water.

  Taking in the scenario, I deduced what had happened—fallen tree, trail, water. She must have been going at quite a clip and bounded right into the water.

  She wore practically nothing, only a sports bra and a pair of tiny shorts with of all things, a small gun shoved in the waistband. What looked like a shirt was wrapped around her hand and I saw signs of blood on her arm and smeared across her face. She was injured, and her eyes were wide with fear.

  I moved the large palmetto even further, making quite a commotion with the leaves, and she startled, whining as if she was an injured animal.

  “It’s alright, I’m not a weirdo. Let me help you out of there.” The words that came out of my mouth were soothing, as if I was talking to a puppy. With the recent culture shifts and one after the other crises, it was hard enough approaching a stranger, much less in a life or death situation. I probably played it up too much, but I didn’t want her to think I was some rapist or terrorist.

  Speaking of rapists, I realized where my eyes were and quickly brought them up to her face. No wonder she looked at me like I was some kind of predator; I was checking out her half-naked body without even meaning to. It was phenomenal, if that was any excuse, which it wasn’t. She had curves in all the right places, her breasts large and indecent in the small top she wore. My eyes had again trailed down to her sports bra, which did little to cover her hard nipples, which strained against the thin material. Guilt had my eyes darting back up to her face again, which was just as stunning as her body.

  Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail which framed a triangular and perfectly proportionate face. She had large, oval eyes framed with dark lashes that didn’t match her almost white hair, not that the color was natural, but it was a stunning difference. Those eyes narrowed as I stood there like an idiot staring at her.

  “Hold on, let me find a way around so I don’t get stuck myself.” I said as an excuse for my stalling. The water was right in my path. It was the direction I had been going myself. I held onto a large tree and climbed over the exposed roots to get a good position on the fallen tree.

  “Where did you even come from?” Her fear had faded, replaced with suspicion and surprise. Her hand kept slip
ping to her waist where that purple gun that looked like a toy sat snuggling against her chiseled abdomen. She must be some kind of workout fiend. No one but fitness models had that kind of body.

  “Lucky for you, I’m doing experiments in the area, I’m a scientist.” I jiggled my pack to reinforce my words. Not that she would know what was in my pack. It could have been serial killer implements for all she knew. It had been too long since I had face-to-face interaction with a good looking female, I was botching this White Knight routine.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?”

  “Jogging.” She bit down on her lip as if she knew this was a ridiculous answer. Was she really jogging all the way out here? In the swamp, and not on a set path?

  “There isn’t even a path. Did you want this to happen?” I chided and then bit my lip when I heard the mom-like tone of my voice. Way to make an impression, nerd boy.

  “Are you going to lecture me or help me out of this cesspool?”

  “You might have to lose your shoes. Can you get to them and untie them? I’ll pull you up once you do that.” I ignored her grumpy earlier statement as I found good footing on the ground behind her and stood over her as she pulled the gun out of her odd jogging shorts and stuffed it into her cleavage of all things. I tried not to stare, but they were very well-formed and there was now a gun poking out of the top of them, that wasn’t something you saw every day. Guns had become very popular in the last couple of years. All protests against repealing the 2nd Amendment had dissipated as civil unrest and personal safety soared to the forefront, especially in states like Louisiana. Open carry had become the new normal, but this was the first time I was seeing a purple gun combined with this much cleavage. I wasn’t against either guns or cleavage, not that I had many of either in my life. None to be exact if anyone was keeping score. She reached down into the water and sloshed a bit as she tried to untie her shoes.