Climatic Climacteric Omnibus

by L. B. Carter

  “No clouds. Not a good thing,” he said. Sometimes it seemed Henley’s optimism blinded her to the reality. It was very narrow-minded of her not to conceive all consequences of an action or status.

  Her chin came down. Ace was surprised to see he hadn’t crushed her positivity. She looked pensive, cocking her head. She slowly spun in a full circle, perhaps taking in their surroundings as she should have done immediately if she— “Look around you. Really look. Past the dry dirt and the corn.”

  Ace’s brows shot up. She was claiming he wasn’t observant?

  “Fireflies and crickets,” she pointed out needlessly. The bugs were flashing above the cornstalks like an alarm on one of his servers, a natural mirror of the stars above, and the latter were the only noise besides their alternating soprano and bass chatter and feet scuffing the unconsolidated ground. “Life continues; it adapts until it finds a way.”

  Ace’s forehead wrinkled further. That was a strange opinion for someone who worked in the tech industry, providing man-made modifications to improve and facilitate the increasingly demanding and lush human lifestyle. “How did you end up in engineering?”

  Henley abandoned the half-smile that had crept up while she watched the bugs flitting overhead and Ace watched her. He couldn’t see her swallow, but he heard it. “Reasons.”

  Ace shook his head. She was returning as much information as he provided her—in her estimation—as he’d done with the Stanleys. It was unwarranted; he simply didn’t have more to offer—well, negligibly more. And that was frustrating him.

  He left her behind, continuing his agitated pacing toward the end of the drive.

  Her shoes revealed when she started to follow again, not that she could remain quiet. “We had a deal,” she called out softly.

  “I haven’t forgotten. I already disclosed confidential intelligence today about my intended destination.”

  “Our destination. You did. I wouldn’t dare accuse you of reneging on the agreement. You’re tight-lipped, not dishonest.”

  Then why—?

  “I want to make a new one.”

  He almost groaned aloud. Henley was fond of requests, whether in question format or insistences. She was like an AI, constantly absorbing new information and recalibrating, ready for the next input.

  Ace admitted to himself that he was curious—about her. She would demand why he brought her, of course. But what would she offer in return?

  She continued when he didn’t respond. “You tell me about your family, and I’ll tell you about mine.”

  Ace stopped abruptly at the unexpected topic of the trade.

  Henley moved around to face him. Her expression was closed off—he couldn’t read her moonlit features. That was unsettling as well.

  “Why?”

  Henley took a step closer. “Because you are a mystery, Buster Acton—a conundrum. I’ve tried, and I can’t understand you. When a solution eludes me, I always stop to learn a little more about the problem—maybe there’s another angle or detail I’m missing.”

  Ah. That was more Henley. That explanation fit. Ace supposed the reasoning was how he worked as well; he had wanted just a little more information to figure out why she wanted to discuss their families until he had solved where her intentions lay. So, perhaps there was logic to the idea.

  “Deal,” he said.

  Henley stepped even further into his personal space, her toes almost touching his. He could see her eyes again, the flashing of the fireflies sparkling the far edges. “You first.”

  “Ladies first,” Ace countered. He hadn’t yet organized his thoughts. Analyzing Henley was distracting him.

  Her mouth drooped in a frown. “As a woman in engineering, I’m far too feminist to allow that. Ladies and men are equal, and chivalry goes both ways. I suggested the deal, I get to decide the terms.”

  Now Ace frowned. “If you propose the deal, that means I, as the accepting party, must consent to the terms.”

  “You did when you said, ‘deal.’” Her mouth was slowly rising with each pass of the conversation.

  “You hadn’t set these terms when I enunciated my agreement; it is incredibly improper to modify a contract after it has been set.”

  She gave a little laugh, her breath brushing his chin, a similar temperature to the air but carrying the faint sent of chocolate from the protein powder. “Clarify, not modify, which, as you so kindly pointed out to me, is perfectly legal in the included terms of an existing contract.”

  Ace knew she was referencing the contract they were all forced to sign upon acceptance of their position at the University. It was his pointing out the use of a word that could be taken to mean one subject or another entirely, altering the connotation, that had convinced her to accompany him on his escape. “That was semantics. You didn’t even list any terms that might be disguised as an order for the deal.”

  “Didn’t I?” Her teeth started to show as her lips tilted incrementally higher at the corners.

  Ace thought back, his brow furrowing. Had he missed a second sentence?

  “Ah, the great Bus. I thought you were supposed to be one of the brightest at BSTU.” Her grin was wide. “Haven’t caught it yet?”

  Ace was flustered. He was one of the brightest though knowing that she thought that about him made a toasty feeling of pride bubble up that he hadn’t felt in a long time; it had been ages he’d been working toward his goal, too many years before he had what he needed and could flee the east coast for home. “All you said was—”

  “You tell me about your family, and I’ll tell you about mine,” she repeated, emphasizing the subjects of each clause.

  Ace felt disappointed he hadn’t been able to prove his intellect. Perhaps he needed to recalibrate his opinion of Henley’s intelligence with relation to his own. She may be optimistic, but she clearly was processing every minor detail. He needed to be careful. “’And’ does not convey time.”

  Henley snorted haughtily. “The ‘then’ is implied.”

  “But not explicitly stated.” He started to smile, when she didn’t answer.

  She knew she had beaten him in that round of wits. Reluctantly, he was impressed. He had heard she was one of the brightest as well. Clearly, that was not simply a rumor.

  “All right.” He stepped around her, so he wouldn’t have to look at her delighted expression any longer. It diminished his thought capacity.

  Henley joined him, waiting patiently as they walked. He glanced over and saw the smug grin still uplifting her shadowed features.

  What to tell her about his family? She hadn’t quantified how much he was required to reveal in their deal. However, from experience with her ability to argue, he knew that as much as he gave, she would return. “My parents worked in similar fields. They loved what they did. My sister—”

  “You have a sister?”

  He gave her a quelling look.

  Henley raised her palms and snapped her lips together.

  He continued, “My sister took over for my mom when she was old enough. She didn’t like it. She took their work in a whole new direction. They couldn’t stop her.” And neither could Ace. She had too much power that she’d simply inherited from their mom’s efforts.

  Ace held some resentment for that. He’d spent years at university now to prove his worth, in a way, by acquiring what they needed. The second child, he’d had to work hard; nothing was handed freely to him. He also didn’t have the boisterous personality, people skills, or ability to lie like she did to usurp her. The injustice riled him anew. He hadn’t thought about this in so long, the feelings tempered quickly by the overshadowing of the isolated lifestyle at BSTU that seemed to dampen the outside world.

  “You said ‘did.’”

  “What?”

  “Your parents loved what they did. Past tense. Are they no longer…?”

  Observant yet again. Ace hesitated.

  “Why are you wary of sharing with me?” Henley asked, more curious than accusatory. “You ag
reed to the deal, so on some level you don’t mind being open with me. What holds you back from all of it? You’re the one who brought me with you, incidentally exposing me to whatever plans you had for getting out of BSTU. If you don’t let me leave, which it seems you’re reluctant to do, then I’m going to find out more and more throughout our trip, assuming we can continue. It’s not the what that I am really interested in; it’s the why. Why don’t you want me to know about you?”

  Ace was floored. Everything she said was valid. And she had simultaneously reassured him while probing him. He needed to learn from her if he was ever to consider overthrowing his sister; she had a way of manipulating people, like the woman in the post office—not so much Mrs. Juarez. Although, their host had taken them in, as the old woman had said, as the least she could do for giving Henley a fright.

  “I am not BSTU. I won’t weaponize anything you say and use it against you,” Henley added in a whisper.

  Ace glanced over, surprised at the sentiment. That had not been in his thoughts at all. “What did BSTU weaponize against you?” he asked since he deduced the idea must come from experience.

  Henley shook her head, peeking at him for only a moment. “It’s not my turn. And that is not about my family.”

  Ace was starting to feel a step behind, metaphorically. It was a new feeling, not so much uncomfortable or frustrating but a challenge. It made him want to push back. His work at BSTU had been quite tedious and not at all cumbersome. Henley was more of a match for his mind. In fact, she was more similar than she knew.

  “They’re alive,” he answered her query. “Just no longer able to work.” He paused, weighing his next words. “My father was injured and is now disabled. My mother cares for him.”

  “Oh!” Henley breathed. Ace watched her pull her hands into her chest in his periphery. “I’m sorry…”

  Ace hated that phrase normally. It wasn’t their fault; it didn’t make sense to accept blame and apologize for something most weren’t even there for. In this case, Ace took it to heart and felt his shoulders drop. He hadn’t realized the impact hearing that from her would have. Even if she wasn’t consciously aware of the truth in her apology.

  “Your turn.”

  “Right.” Henley’s arms lowered, and she pulled them behind her back. “My family.”

  The fireflies suddenly seemed brighter, flaring in the night, the ground at his feet sooty and ashy, the air a little bit hotter, wafting into his eyes. His nose began to imagine the musk of smoke as though it still lingered, clinging to the threads of his clothes.

  “Well, I have my mom and my little sister, Bromley. My mom is a school teacher, and Brom…” She gathered herself. “My little sister wants to be just like me.” In contrast to how most would be humbled by that honor, she sounded depressed about that.

  That was the only thing she’d said that Ace hadn’t known. This deal had not been all one-sided then, though Henley wasn’t aware of the imbalance. “That’s flattering,” Ace said, confused at her dejected tone. He looked askance to catch her nod.

  “It is. It’s also worrisome. It’s why I agreed to come with you.”

  Ace’s next step faltered in their regular rhythm. He’d tripped through a pothole. He hadn’t noticed they’d fallen in sync until then, his strides becoming shorter to allow her to keep up and hers elongating. “I thought it was because of the terms of the contract,” he said, once he’d resumed their pace.

  They turned a corner, and the tarred road came into view, perpendicular from their current path, with more dead stalks on the other side. Ace found himself a little disappointed they’d made it to the end. They’d have to go back, limiting the conversation.

  “It was.”

  “Then…?”

  “Aha, now I’m the mystery.” Henley didn’t say anything for another moment, and the creak of the rusted mailbox, swinging slightly in a gentle gust of dense air drowned out the crickets and the rustle of the dead leaves they walked between. “Appropriate, isn’t it? The eerie setting for a mystery?” Henley stopped at the edge of the drive as though taking that next step onto real road would ruin the ambiance, as though it were a massive leap into something unknown.

  Now that she mentioned it, the unknown of the dark spaces between all the towering plants pervaded Ace’s focus like bugs coming out of cracks in the walls. Had it been stupid to go wandering at night? Suddenly, it seemed smart to go back. “We should—”

  “My sister plans to follow me to BSTU. I can’t let her sign that contract.”

  The statement tugged him from his worry. Ace should have guessed it was for the sake of others that she’d agreed to become the subject of a hunt, to leave a place where she was stimulated, successful, and could satisfy her curiosity until her brain reached saturation if such a condition were possible. Guilt rose. It was an emotion he’d been struggling with when it came to Henley every time she demanded why he brought her. It was not one he enjoyed. It made him feel uncertain as if she were controlling how he felt.

  “That’s why I need to get to my family. Why I’m letting you drag me across the country without you telling me why you want that. Why I wanted to contact them at the post office.” She stared at the mailbox. “Thank you for stopping me back there. It would have been pointless with BSTU sorting the mail. And I’m sorry I got physical.”

  Ace started, misunderstanding for a moment before he recalled the punch. “It didn’t hurt.” That was false. Her fist was like a rock.

  She turned her steady face to him. “That doesn’t matter,” she brushed it off as though she knew he was lying.

  Well, that was a skill that his sister coveted, not him. He preferred to simply say nothing.

  “A feminist—a decent human being even—expects to be treated as they treat others. Physical abuse against anyone is not okay.”

  “Jen and the experiment seemed for it.” A brow rose in challenge.

  “Sirena,” Henley corrected. Then she shrugged. “Maybe they want to be punched back. Jen seems to like a little fight. And Reed seems pretty willing.” She let out a little giggle.

  Ace hadn’t heard it ever at BSTU—not much to laugh about there. It sounded like fireflies he decided, no matter how irrational the comparison.

  “Anyway, thank you. For whatever reason you decided to bring me with you. As long as we get there, I’ll stop fighting verbally, too. We have the same end goal.”

  Ace winced. “Actually—” he started.

  “What’s that?” Henley’s voice was panicked.

  She was not going to like his next admission. For a moment, Ace hesitated again. It was going beyond their deal to tell her more.

  He didn’t get the chance to deliberate further because Henley’s wide eyes were approaching fast as she sprinted at him, slamming into him despite her promise to no longer be physical.

  Not expecting the tackle, Ace toppled backward, and they tumbled together, a mess of limbs and hair, down the slight decline beside the drive, rolling between the dry stalks that snapped and crackled and whipped at Ace’s skin.

  When their momentum finally abated, Ace groaned and tried to sit up, but Henley lay atop him.

  “Hen—?”

  She slapped a hand over his mouth and, with his dizziness starting to fade, he focused on her eyes, which would have been hidden by how effectively the crops blocked out the moonlight if they weren’t only inches from his. But they weren’t staring back into his, instead looking off to the side, darting around.

  He realized she was listening. Ace heard… nothing.

  He tried to pry her hand off his lips, and she let him, shifting it to his chest to push herself slightly up from her sprawl. It pressed harshly into his skin, and he winced, distracted from the fact that he had just realized nothing was too precise—even the crickets had gone quiet. He glanced down, everything slightly blurry at that distance, more so further away, like a filter.

  A slender finger poked free from a tear in her glove, exposing some kind of matte
black rubber material where skin should be.

  ◆◆◆

  Ace groped around him, trying to find his glasses, which had been knocked off in the fall.

  “Shh,” Henley whispered, her head turning every which way, trying to track something Ace still couldn’t hear.

  “Wha—?”

  “Drones,” she hissed, looking down on him. He could barely make out her current expression, but it was enough to inform him that extreme distress and panic far exceeding her terror of Mrs. Juarez engulfed her.

  Ace flipped to action mode.

  “Go,” he growled, pulling her up with him and latching onto her hand—the hand that wasn’t a hand—and towing her behind him as he wound through the plants.

  He lamented the loss of his eye-wear as shriveled and roughened leaves slapped into his face, the stalks being almost a foot taller than him. It provided excellent cover but slowed them down as they dodged and weaved, aiming in the general direction of the house. There was also no way to determine if their trajectory was correct.

  Over the sound of their hastened breathing and the rustle and snap of vegetation underfoot, Ace was unsure if that was the appropriate goal or if the drones had passed them.

  “Not that way,” Henley called from behind, suddenly lurching to the right and jerking him with the abrupt change in momentum.

  He struggled behind her, tripping.

  They emerged quite suddenly onto the dirt road. The momentary reprieve in crinkling noise allowed the faint hum of rotors to penetrate Ace’s determination.

  “Too exposed,” he snapped, overtaking and slipping across into the field on the other side before he had time to locate the drones’ location, Henley falling to the back again.

  “Which way?” he posed over his shoulder. Her hearing was clearly better than his, possibly from sitting in a room with hundreds of massive servers and processors humming and cooling fans whirring for too many years.

  “Left!”