Doomseeds

by Tam Linsey

  Torin shook his head. “Your terms are still untenable. Leaving our base to gather reversions isn’t an option.”

  “You have trade contacts among the cannibals. Use them to hunt the fugitives.”

  “If we’re going to rely on cannibal trade, your tracking codes are useless.” Torin let out a derisive snort. “You’re releasing your reversions anyway. We’ll simply let traders bring them to us as they find them.”

  Rael swallowed against the rapid beat of his heart. The new converts at the Taguan would provide an easy target for cannibal mercenaries. But with so few Doomseeds carriers, the chances of the correct reversions reaching the Fosselites were minimal. He had to see the Doomseeds plan through to the end, now more than ever.

  Pulse pounding in his ears, he looked down at the back of his green, age-spotted hand. No Protectorate duster pilot would fly within range of the Fosselite base defenses. To get the reversions there, he’d have to transport them himself, even if it meant driving a sand skimmer all those miles through cannibal territory. He’d make sure he had a dose of the toxin for himself in case the Fosselites turned on him. If it cost him his last breath, he’d see to it the Doomseeds plan worked. “I’ll make sure the reversions are dropped on your doorstep.”

  The Taguan

  The rhythmic thump of Gid’s mini echoed through the sky, and Eily turned her face upward, searching the blue horizon. Near the neat stacks of felled amarantox to her left, three women talked while they split the canes and scooped manna larva into baskets. A green-skinned Rodi glanced at her and grinned. “Go.”

  Eily returned the grin, wiped her chapped hands on her apron, and raced toward the lip of the Taguan basin. At the edge, she was met by a cloud of grit kicked up by the mini’s thrusters. Before stepping onto the narrow trail down, she paused to blink her vision clear. The sound of the mini cut off abruptly, replaced by the muted murmur of a crowd. The lack of children’s voices resonated like an echo across a canyon.

  Sight regained, she skittered down the narrow path, searching the crowd below. At the open door to his mini, Gid stood directing the offloading and greeting his flock with handshakes and nods. As always, he’d brought with him a photo of the Taguan’s converted children. Women passed the sheet around with wide-eyed excitement, each searching for the faces of their own little ones within the group picture. A twang of guilt shook Eily as she thought of her nephews, fostered with Aunt Beth at the Holdout. But her hands were full overseeing the Taguan. The boys were better off there.

  Gid caught her eye, his brows drawing together as his gaze took in her gaping bodice, open to better allow the breeze to cool her skin. Out of habit, her hand flew to the open clasp. He shifted his gaze back to the man unloading a stack of empty baskets. With conscious effort, she lowered her hand, leaving the bodice open. Seeking Gid’s approval was a difficult habit to break.

  As missionaries at the Taguan, Gid and Eily’s teaching was much the same, but in some areas they disagreed. He wanted to be strict with the Order’s ways, while she argued that the Taguan needed to adopt its own set of rules. Unlike the Order, most of the people at the Taguan wanted conversion. Modesty had to give way to necessity, and exposing green skin to sunlight was the surest way to avoid the Hunger.

  At least she and Gid agreed on the fundamental issues of love, charity, and peace. The cannibals, especially the women, seemed eager to swap aggression for the promise of plenty. The Taguan had already accepted several new members from out on the Tox who’d come to trade and decided to stay.

  But there were many who followed Gid’s more stringent ways. His mini was magic to them. Two cannibal women in Order dresses stood near him now, beaded braids peeking from beneath their bonnets. One had a green face, the other, tanned. He could have his pick if he wanted a wife. But he treated the women no more or less fondly than the men.

  He shut the mini’s door. The men nearest him ushered him toward the cave mouth, green men with hunter piercings wearing cotton shirts and suspendered-slacks. With only their arms and faces to absorb sunlight, they would be hungry when winter came. What would Gid do when they turned to the Knife again? She prayed he would come around in his teaching before then. Smiling, she realized he probably prayed the same about her.

  Happy as she was to see Gid, he wasn’t the one she was looking for. She scanned the milling people, searching for Jubal’s sun-browned face. He was leery of conversion after his scare in the labs and had elected to remain unconverted, at least for now.

  An arm wrapped around her waist from behind, lifting her in a circle, and she squealed. Jubal’s voice tickled her ear. “Miss me?”

  She twisted about in his embrace and threw her arms around his neck. “How was trade?”

  In order to support their treaty with the Protectorate and to qualify for adult conversions, the Taguan offered what goods they could to the citizens in the city. A surprising number of people craved tokens from the Tox. And it turned out the protein in the manna beetles was a perfect complement to photosynthesis.

  Jubal nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Those Flame Runnas can’t get enough manna meal. I think we may have enough credit to start building a Garden here soon.”

  She hugged him tighter, savoring his warm scent. She missed him when he left, but at least he traveled safely with Gid in the mini. “I’m glad.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “We’re going to need it soon.”

  His body stiffened. Pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, he flicked a glance downward to where their bellies touched. She nodded.

  His face broke into the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. Life on the Tox was good.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading! Would you like to read the heart-pounding tale of how the apocalypse happened? The full-length prequel, Amarantox, will leave you thinking long after you put the book down!

  With croplands failing, a mother is forced to choose between her ideals and her teenage daughter's life. Get your copy to keep reading now!

  Tam Linsey

  P.S. Indie authors like myself don’t have a huge budget to spend on marketing like the big name authors do, so your support means everything to me. If you have a moment to leave a quick review of Doomseeds, I’d be eternally grateful!

  P.P.S. Get your copy of Amarantox here.

  Glossary

  Amarantox — a mutation of a common weed, which secretes toxins into the soil to prevent other vegetation from taking hold. Largely responsible for the Botanicaust.

  Bann, The — a roster of those being shunned within the Old Order. A punishment just shy of excommunication.

  Blattvolk — what the Old Order call Haldanians. Literally “leaf people.”

  Blow Out — a sandstorm.

  Botanicaust — an event 400 years ago during which invasive weeds wiped out most plant life on Earth, including the major food crops.

  Burn, The — a five-mile radius of scorched earth around the Haldanian Protectorate, maintained by Burn Operatives to keep both cannibals and plant life at bay.

  Cannibal — people roaming the Reaches and beyond who survive by not wasting any food opportunity. They do not specifically prefer human flesh, but will not waste their dead.

  Confinement — the prison where captive Cannibals are kept prior to conversion.

  Convert — one who has undergone genetic therapy to insert chloroplasts, as opposed to those born with the gene.

  Days of the Prophet — what the Old Order refers to when speaking about the Botanicaust.

  Duster — a silent aircraft powered by electromagnetic engines used by Burn Ops to keep the Burn cleared.

  Flame runna — what the Cannibals call the Haldanians.

  Fosselites — a group of scientists who have found the secret to eternal life.

  Gamma pad — electronic palm pad and stylus. Various versions exist, such as a simple, indestructible one for children, and more complicated versions capable of higher computations.

/>   Garden — the nuvoplast houses where Haldanian children are kept until they finish puberty and can withstand ultraviolet light.

  Gotte’s Wille — God’s Will.

  Haldanian Protectorate — the government formed after the Botanicaust by the scientists who developed conversion technology. Mission statement is to offer conversion to the population of the world in an attempt to minimize humanity’s need for food.

  Holdout — the Old Order name for their protected community.

  Hunger, the — cannibal term for time of food scarcity. The Hunger generally occurs during winter months, but may be “called” at any time of year when food is required.

  Hunter — cannibals who have abandoned tribal ties and banded together to actively seek human flesh. The most dangerous group on the Tox, they have been known to ignore the scars of the Knowing.

  Integration — the heavily supervised time period during which converted children acclimate to their new environment and society.

  Knife, the — ritual suicide in which cannibals offer their bodies as sustenance for the rest of the tribe. Usually performed by the old or infirm, but sometimes forced upon healthy tribe members during the Hunger.

  Knowing, the — cannibals who retain certain kinds of knowledge, such as healing or locating water. They are marked by scars to keep them safe from other cannibal tribes.

  Mark of the Beast — an Old Order belief. The green skin of the Haldanians is the obvious sign that someone is marked.

  Native Haldanian — one born to parents already expressing the chloroplast genome.

  Nuvoplast — a bio plastic grown and used by Haldanians to build everything from gamma pads to sand-skimmers to the walls of their dwellings.

  Old Order — a remnant Amish society who survived the Botanicaust by erecting electric fences to protect their hand-cultivated acreage.

  Ordnung — the set of earthly rules believed to be sent by God which are followed by the Old Order.

  Reversion — a convert who regresses to cannibalistic ways. Punishable by death.

  Ripening — a once common autoimmune condition among naturally born Haldanians in which the body attempts to purge itself of chloroplasts. The faulty gene has been largely eliminated from the population, but still appears as a random mutation in one out of ten thousand births.

  Rumspringa — a time during adolescence just before a young person chooses to be baptized into the Old Order. Literally “running around.”

  Sand-skimmer — a land vehicle used by the Protectorate to cross portions of the Burn.

  Spirit healer — someone with the ability to affect the minds of others. An art feared among the cannibal tribes, and believed “lost” to their healers.

  Sunstorm / UV flare — a short period of time, more common in autumn and winter, when the atmosphere allows excess ultraviolet to reach the earth. Largely due to improperly tested herbicide use during the Botanicaust, which created gaps in the ozone layer.

  Telomerase — an enzyme that prevents genetic deterioration by replicating the telomere regions of DNA strands during mitosis. Used by the Fosselites to extend life indefinitely, although telomerase cannot pass the blood-brain barrier and therefore does not function on neural DNA.

  Tox, the — the cannibal name for the vast continental plains once known as the Breadbasket of America, now consumed by amarantox and other non-edible weeds.

  Verification of Consent — a signed document required for cannibals or other potential converts over the age of sixteen in which they express their desire and reasons for becoming a convert. Outlined in Ordinance 317 under the Protectorate Mission.

  Yuvee tree — a genetically altered tree originally introduced to “fix” nitrogen in cropland and reduce the need for chemical fertilizers. Later discovered to foretell an incoming ultraviolet flare by the rapid leaching of color from its leaves. Called mgunga tree by the Fosselites.

  Amarantox Sneak Peek!

  JANUARY

  The Tox didn’t start with a plant. Or a seed. Or even a gene. The Tox started with an idea.

  ~ The Histories

  The murky gleam of a full moon reflected off the greenhouse roof as Jaide crept across the circle of bare earth surrounding the dark building. Ahead of her, Trevor’s shadow halted with a hand up. After a pause, he dropped to his belly against the icy ground. She mimicked the action, her heavy daypack slamming against her spine. Her heartbeat rattled against her ribs. The brim of the baseball cap she wore to hide her face from cameras blocked her view of the greenhouse, so all she could see was the gated lane. To her right, Cindy panted as though she’d just sprinted a mile, gulping and gasping for breath.

  An engine rumbled from the greenhouse parking lot. Headlights winked on, casting shadows across the rocky soil. She pressed her cheek against the frigid dirt and held her breath, willing herself to be one with the Earth.

  The car backed up then proceeded down the lane toward Lafayette. Jaide exhaled a foggy sigh.

  Once the sound of the engine had faded, Trevor rose and began his skulk toward the greenhouse again. Jaide scrambled to her feet, fingers and toes numb from lying flat against the January soil. The one-gallon can of gasoline in her pack seemed to weigh fifty pounds, but the real powerhouse for tonight lay against her thigh in the pocket of her jeans—a flash drive loaded with Trevor’s computer virus.

  She reached the side of the building right behind Trevor, core trembling with cold. He pulled his cordless Dremel out of his pocket. A high-pitched whine filled the air as he started to cut through the polycarbonate wall. After only a minute, he pulled a section of panel free and ducked inside.

  Jaide crawled in next. Humid air, thick with the scent of soil and greenery, buffeted her face with warmth. The low drone of the circulation fans vibrated in her ears, and potted plants made shaggy shadows in the moonlight.

  “I’ll find the climate controls,” said Trevor in a low voice. “You two look for the offices and lab equipment.”

  “Do you think any of these plants are dangerous?” asked Cindy, holding back against the wall.

  “Nah,” said Trevor. “This is only a level one bio-safety facility. Otherwise there’d be more guards. TelomerGen’s probably just testing herbicide resistance so they can sell more poisons.”

  “So there’s poison on the plants?”

  “Jesus, Cindy.” Trevor shoved a pair of wire cutters at her. “If you’re so worried, you find the climate controls and cut the wires. I’ll handle the lab equipment.”

  Cindy held up her gloved hands, refusing the tool. “I’m just having second thoughts about what I’m getting into.”

  Jaide took Cindy’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze in spite of her own misgivings about this operation. But someone had to do something to stop corporations from shoving genetically modified food down humanity’s throat. Soon there’d be no options left for those wanting to eat as nature intended. “This is for the future.” Jaide thought of Flora, her eleven-year-old, asleep in her bed back home. “We’re protecting our children’s children’s children.”

  “I don’t have kids.”

  Many members of the Coalition never planned to add to the human population problem. At seventeen, Jaide hadn’t known better. But she’d never regretted it. “Every animal and plant is one of Earth’s children—one of our children—don’t you think?”

  Cindy nodded, and Jaide let go.

  Trevor shoved the wire cutters at Cindy. “I saw some ripple vents on the exterior to the left. Go see if the controls are on the inside over there. Jaide, you search the side rooms. I’ll go right and circle back toward you, okay?”

  Jaide set out to find a computer terminal, sliding her feet along the concrete in the dark. Flashlights would be too easily spotted through the glass walls. She was careful to avoid touching the stainless steel tables or the Frankenstein plants on either side of her. Corporations like TelomerGen claimed they were using genetic modification to end world hunger. In reality, they were adding to it by tak
ing away self-sufficiency; farmers weren’t allowed to save their own seeds, or even worse, the modified seed would be sterile. Corporations wanted to put a patent on life.

  If she could, she’d torch this entire facility. But she’d only brought enough gas to damage the computers and other hardware. The fire was to be a decoy anyway; the real damage would be done by the virus, corrupting the research so TelomerGen couldn’t repeat this particular atrocity any time soon. Hopefully the infection would make it all the way to their back-up servers before their IT discovered it. Once the climate controls were out of commission, winter would take care of the plants themselves.

  She reached the end of the row and squinted toward the far wall. Two doors led presumably to the offices, lab, and staff rooms. On her right, Trevor’s feet scuffed against the paved floor. She tried the door on her left.

  Locked.

  Dropping to a squat, she fished in her pocket for the tiny flashlight she’d brought for just this event. The bulb was red, so it was less likely to be noticed by someone observing the facility. Standard doorknob, no deadlock. She retrieved her tension wrench, inserted it and the rake, then jiggled until she heard the pins drop.

  Thank you, YouTube.

  Twisting the handle, she pushed. The door swished open. A scent like wet pennies greeted her as she slipped inside. From large pots on the concrete, foliage reached toward the ceiling in graceful arches. Taking a chance, she shone her light upwards, curious. Atop the high stalks hung bags covering seedpods or flowers—she wasn’t sure which. They reminded her of heads held upright in a hangman’s noose. A shiver raced down her spine as she recognized the leaves. Amaranth, one of her go-to foods. These were freakishly tall from whatever DNA the scientists had inserted.

  The need to eradicate these Frankenstein plants burned through her veins. Not yet. These amaranth were only prototypes. The project could be easily repeated unless she destroyed the data. Then she would come back and torch the specimens.