Terra poked her gently in the belly. “I like the gift he left you a whole lot better.”
* * *
In the days following, a team recovered Alexis and Freya from the forest. They were laid to rest with Rowan in identical plastic coffins deep beneath Firma.
Terra watched, numb with pain as nearly half her team was committed to the crypt. Bill and Jack offered strength from behind, ready to hold them on their feet if they lost the strength to stand. Nat held her hand on one side, while Carter wrapped his arms around her and wept, his tears scalding her burns.
Time alone became scarce. Terra spent her nights with Nat, the two of them helping one another through nightmares. Then she spent her days with her father, who still hadn’t voiced his emotions over her near-death, but made no secret he liked having her close.
Terra’s non-death became the elephant in the room, the thing neither of them would bring up. Teddy danced around the subject, almost as if scared to talk about it.
His reluctance to discuss what had happened didn’t make her any more open to a discussion. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know her father’s theories on why Danu didn’t poison her.
She had a hard enough time believing it had happened.
Roark didn’t come to her room. He didn’t come around at all, choosing instead to be a ghost in the compound. Terra appreciated the space but bemoaned it just the same.
It was hard to want something so badly, but to know that thing just wasn’t right for you.
Chapter 8
A week after Rowan’s funeral, Terra had reached her limit on blood and viscera.
When an engineer arrived in the infirmary with three of his detached fingers in his pocket, she excused herself from helping her father stitch him up.
Aboveground, the doors of Ground Bay were open to a humid, cloudy afternoon. The heady, living scent of growth filtered into the bay. The smell tickled her senses and brought up memories of laying on the forest floor.
The sun teased glimpses through the clouds, but Terra found no joy in it. She sat cross-legged just inside the main doors and watched the breeze, trying not to think of the last sunny day but incapable of thinking about anything else.
She hadn’t returned to hunting. Her team had gone right back to work for the good of the compound. Even Nat, who still shared her bed each night but used hunting as a means to ward off her despair over Rowan.
But Terra wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she ever would be. The thought of getting back to work without the partner she’d spent years beside filled her with dread.
A heavy breeze caressed Terra's bare shoulders, and she shuddered. A hug from Danu — her airy fingers the only thing that didn’t kill, when that would have been the quickest way to get rid them all.
Maybe she wanted to give us a fighting chance.
Like Terra’s unexplainable immunity to Danu’s poison. Maybe Danu didn’t want them all dead.
Maybe she just wanted to make a point.
Terra surfaced from her dark thoughts at the growl of an engine. The roar echoed through the forest, puttering closer.
It had been at least a month since the soldiers had last visited. The older Terra got, the longer the periods of time stretched between their visits. She’d never given it much thought before. Compounds like Firma existed to keep the human race going while the government worked to find a cure for Danu.
But with her worries over the fatality rate — and the number of people dying in the infirmary—she noted those absent stretches now.
Terra stood and pressed the intercom on the wall by the bay door. “Military,” she informed the compound.
She hesitated at the edge of the plastic floor. The tire path looked no different from every other day she had walked onto it.
But it was different this time. For starters, Rowan wasn’t at her back, making slapstick observations about life.
She braced herself and followed the path to meet the soldiers at the Humvee.
The passenger popped out of the vehicle with a polite wave. “Afternoon!”
As usual, the soldier was covered head to toe in a bright yellow hazmat suit, exposing only his eyes behind a thick plastic shield. Tall rubber boots protected his legs, built into the oversuit. He could walk directly on the ground in those bad boys with no threat of deadly malfunction. Firma had never had access to that kind of protection. Only rich people and the government could protect themselves so thoroughly.
It hit Terra that — unlike those soldiers—she could walk barefoot on the ground without threat of death. The thought gave her a weird sense of smug superiority.
“We’ve got some dried goods,” the soldier said, his voice muffled by the mask. “Some fresh veggies, too.”
“Not kale, I hope,” Terra said. Her heart ached when the soldier chuckled half-heartedly.
Of course he wouldn’t get the joke. It was an inside joke between her and her best friend.
Rowan's laughter haunted her.
The driver met the first soldier at the trunk. By the time they passed the first box to Terra on the path, her father and several other people had joined her on the path.
Teddy squared up to the soldiers. He was as big as them in stature and muscle, but his spectacles and lab coat set him apart as brain over brawn. “Any updates?”
“Nothing new, sir,” the first soldier replied. “Our research facility is hard at work, as always. We’re dedicated to finding a cure for Danu.”
Terra knew her father’s facial expressions well enough to see the crestfallen look in his eyes. “Nothing?”
“No, sir. But I’m sure we aren’t far from a breakthrough. We have the best of the best on our team.” The soldier puffed his chest out like a preening rooster.
“If you had the best of the best, you would have my father,” Terra snapped, irritated at his blind arrogance. “Can you grow food underground without the sun? Can you heal rain burns? Have you saved seventy-two people from typhus?”
Teddy placed a calming hand on her arm. “Terra, please.”
The soldier bowed his head, his eyes on Terra from behind the mask. “No offense meant, Dr. Reed.”
“None taken. Thank you for the supplies. As always, we are indebted to you.” Teddy smiled beatifically And shook the soldier’s hand. “Now. Rain is coming. I suggest you boys get inside before it arrives. Those suits aren’t made to withstand the rain.”
The two soldiers glanced at the sky — overcast, but not a rain cloud in sight.
Terra’s tattoo had begun to tingle, too. The government wasn’t privy to that particular brilliant invention of her father’s.
“Everything all right here? Anything I should carry back to base?” the soldier asked. Terra had always despised the dry, uninterested way they inquired after the state of the compound. As if they were simply following a government-mandated script and couldn't care less what the answer was.
Teddy rocked on his heels, rubber tire bouncing beneath his boots. “We’ve had another outbreak. Sixty percent fatality.”
Terra gasped. She had been so lost in her grief, robotically helping her father in the infirmary, that she hadn’t paid attention to the details.
Sixty percent?
The soldier ignored her burst of emotion. “Typhus?”
“No. Typhus was eradicated in our compound. It’s something we’ve never seen before.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the soldier mused. “Just what we need — another deadly disease we can’t fix.”
“I’m hopeful my team will find a cure,” Teddy said pleasantly. “It’s what we do.”
“Indeed.” The soldier glanced between Terra and her father, his Plexiglas-covered gaze emotionless. “I’ll pass the info along. There are antibiotics in this shipment. Not much, but some.”
Teddy nodded. “Thank you. It’s appreciated.”
The driver spoke up, his voice kinder. “If more is needed, just send word. There’s a medical facility in the old city. They might ha
ve access to more than just penicillin. We can make a side trip.”
The passenger shot his partner a look, and then inclined his head at Teddy. “Dr. Reed. Always a pleasure. And…” He stared at Terra through his small, rectangular mask. “You are?”
Terra straightened her shoulders. “Terra Reed.”
“Of course. Have a nice day, Miss Reed.” The soldier saluted her, a lazy flick of his forefinger against his hooded mask. His eyes pierced through her. “I’m sure we'll meet again soon.”
As the last of the Firma team took their boxes into the compound, Terra stood with her father, watching as the Humvee bounced along the old road that led away from Firma and into the Wilds.
Teddy tapped his mustache, his gaze zeroed in on the disappearing car. “Do you trust them?”
Terra shook her head. “Less than I trust Danu.”
Teddy squeezed her shoulder, but kept his gaze on the dust settling behind the Humvee. “Good girl.”
* * *
That evening, Terra lay in bed reading an old, battered copy of 1984, when she heard the door to her father’s bunk open and close.
It was by no means too late for a grown man to leave his bunk, but her dad was a creature of habit. After dinner — often skipped in lieu of work—he spent an hour on research, had a nightcap, and then went to bed before the bay doors were even closed for the day. So for him to exhibit any behavior outside that pattern meant something odd was afoot.
Plus, Terra was too curious for her own good.
She left her book open on the bed, extinguished her lamp, and quietly cracked her door.
She recognized the dark silhouette of her father’s back entering the stairwell. So that ruled out secret evening visitors. He didn’t appear to be in his lab coat, either, which ruled out that he was going to the infirmary.
He was up to something, and Terra intended to find out what.
She followed her father's unhurried gait down the stairs, silent on her bare feet. At the fifth level, the door creaked, and his steps grew lighter as he walked away from the staircase.
The fifth level had some living areas like every other floor in Firma, but it also housed the large meeting hall where her father’s research team and the Advisory Collective met to make decisions on behalf of the compound.
The Advisory Collective was a selection of the compound’s elders, though “elder” was a relative term considering the elderly had all but been wiped out in Danu outbreaks. Many of the eldest members of Firma were no older than forty — another sad state of affairs for the human race.
The Collective never called meetings without a public service announcement. Collective meetings had always been open to the public because they honored transparency above all. Her father had instilled in them a desire to involve the people in day-to-day workings. Secrets, power plays, and dictatorships weren’t allowed at Firma — which was probably why they’d survived peacefully for so long.
She watched her father enter the large double doors leading to the meeting hall. Suspicions confirmed, she turned on her heel and ran for the balcony staircase.
Firma became Terra's permanent home before she even completed potty training — the concrete, steel, and plastic brain-child of her father and a team of scientists and engineers seeking to save as many people as they could. She could navigate the halls with her hands bound and a blindfold over her eyes. She knew the shortcuts, the hidey-holes, and the places good for a kid to eavesdrop on the things the adults said she didn’t need to hear.
The swinging door opened silently. Terra eased it shut behind her and slipped onto the darkened balcony. The horseshoe of stadium seats allowed for anyone in the compound to observe the Collective's meetings without interrupting the flow of things. In another helpful aspect, it allowed for nosy kids to listen in. She hunkered low and crept toward the railing to peer down into the chamber.
“I don’t trust those government flunkies,” Pearl said darkly. She was one of the elders—almost fifty—and the oldest woman in the compound. She had the lean, hard look of a woman who’d spent half her life learning to survive. “Those men are nothing but lackeys for the president.”
“You’ve never even seen the president, you old coot,” Adam replied, rolling his eyes. He was a young, brilliant scientist who worked in the compound’s underground garden. Terra grew up with a crush on his coiffed blond hair and chiseled jaw. Like Terra, he had always eschewed the idea of bringing children into a poisoned world, and had remained single over the years.
“Don’t need to meet her!” Pearl snapped. “She’s probably a robot.”
“The president isn’t a robot,” Caleb chastised. The middle-aged redhead ran their engineering department. His blue jumpsuit brought to mind Roark, which brought a whole new level of complicated to her feelings.
“You’re insane, Pearl,” Adam retorted. “Who let you out of your cage?”
Terra's father raised his voice over the growing rumblings of the table. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Please. Can we focus? Infighting will get us nowhere.”
Pearl grinned, exposing gaps in her front teeth. “We’re not fighting. We’re debating.”
Teddy sighed. “Okay. Debating. Let’s leave the debating out of it for now. Lars?”
Lars Olaf was her father’s right-hand man. Thin and willowy, with dark eyes that missed nothing and a brain that operated on the same frequency as Teddy Reed’s. They'd been business partners longer than Danu had waged war on the human race. “Ted has a point. Get a handle on your emotions and let’s discuss the situation like adults.”
A murmur of agreement came from the twelve members seated around the circular table. Even Pearl looked chastised, her crinkled eyes leveled obediently on Lars.
“Right!” Teddy clapped his hands and offered a bright smile to the Collective. “Lars, you called the meeting. Why don’t you start?” He bowed to his friend and took his seat.
Lars never seemed uncomfortable under scrutiny, a trait Terra admired in the older man. He took a moment to meet each and every gaze around the table before he spoke.
“Firma has faced obstacles before,” Lars began. He still stood, hovering over the table like an oversized hummingbird. “Many obstacles we’ve faced, we were unsure we could best — but we did. We have some of the brightest minds behind Firma. Together, we’ve made it this far.
“But this new outbreak is… concerning.” Lars glanced at Teddy.
“Clearly, the government isn't going to step in and help,” Teddy added. He looked exhausted, she realized. His shirt was untucked and his shaggy black hair stood on end as if he’d run his hands through it too many times. A dark shadow stubbled his usually smooth jawline. Against Lars’ meticulous blond hair and clean-shaven jaw, he looked a mess.
“How bad is the outbreak?” Adam asked.
“We lost two people just today. That makes more than ten in a week.” Teddy’s voice cracked.
Terra’s heart leapt into her throat. She hadn’t seen her father show any emotion in a week; not even when she’d almost died. So why now? Over strangers dying?
Lars spoke again. “We have a crisis on our hands, team. It’s not our first, but it might turn into one of our biggest. We need help.”
“What do you propose?” Caleb asked. “Like Teddy said, we can’t count on the government to do anything but what they’re already doing. Dry goods and supplies.”
“The minimum they must to keep us alive,” Pearl agreed.
Lars cleared his throat and leveled his gaze on Terra’s father. “I think we should send Terra to the medical facility in the city. She can tell them about this new outbreak and bring us help.”
Terra’s own shock was mirrored in her father’s voice. “Are you mad? We can’t send my daughter into the poisoned wilderness by herself.”
“I’m not mad, Ted. Terra is a grown woman, probably more capable than most at surviving out there. We have to do something. Find another way.” Lars leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands ato
p the table. “We can’t do this without you.”
Terra leaned forward, breath held.
“Lars, no,” Teddy murmured. But the bluster had faded from his voice. He rested his face in his hands as if he could no longer hold his head up.
“You won’t be able to pretend for much longer, Ted. You have the rash. There’s no use denying it. You have an expiration date.”
Terra lost her grip on the railing and tumbled to the ground. She skidded backwards, barely conscious of the impact.
She had misunderstood. That was all.
It manifests…
Lars meant her father wouldn’t live forever. Nobody lived forever.
… as a rash…
Her father spoke clear as a bell in her memory.
And then it escalates.
Chapter 9
All thought fled as Terra raced from the chamber.
She couldn’t breathe. Tears stung her eyes and choked her as she passed through Ground Bay. Familiar voices called out to her in concern — Bill, maybe. Carter, too. But she ignored them and ignored the dozen eyes watching her back as she flung herself off the tire path and into the dirt.
A small part of her still thought it was a fluke. Maybe she hadn’t touched Danu enough during the fall. The ground was actually poison, and this time it would kill her.
But if she really believed that, she wouldn’t have done it.
She raced across the clearing, legs pumping. Twenty years on rubber paths and industrial strength plastic floors hadn’t prepared her for the give of earth. Her soles sank into the ground with every step. Pointed blades of grass tickled her ankles — softer than she ever imagined grass could be.
The longer she ran, the stronger she felt, the more she relished the sensation of flying over the earth. Danu hummed beneath her feet, a living, breathing organism. Terra could feel her — could feel her pain and her determination to survive the contamination the human race had wrought upon her.
Terra understood that drive to survive at all costs. She embodied it.
The river glinted beyond the trees. Terra fought her emotions, remembering the day little more than a week earlier when she’d stood by the river path while Rowan cast his line.
East of the Sun Page 5