by L. B. Carter
She gave a curt nod and slipped below his sight. He'd be fine there. Her brother was fine. Nor's wasn't.
After a while, her neck began to ache with her head cranked around. Rubbernecking the aftermath of the decimation of a world that had started out brown and dry was startling. Within seconds, it had become blue and wet. The wave overtook with a thundering roar. Its departure was the gentle swish of a beach soundtrack used to lull one to sleep.
Val wasn't sure she would sleep soundly again, not with the traumatic images and the despondence that was haunting her mind, replaying on loop. Ace and Henley were fairly certain the next wave wouldn’t reach their distance from the Seaway, given the first wave’s height, but not one-hundred percent. And the when was a question. Apprehensive tension and disbelief filled the silence.
Tio had been a gruesome death, triggering her gag reflex. But this reached deep inside her and squeezed. Her gaze fell on the thin red lines seeping blood down to pool in the crook of her elbows as she clung to the dripping ladder. It was as though he hadn't let go, the nails that had dug into her arm spreading through her veins until the stabbing sensation pierced her stomach and pulled it up through her heart into the back of her throat, thickening it. She couldn't get her insides to stop rearranging, all of them struggling to fit inside her chest cavity where there was a resonating thudding that rattled each of them.
No matter how tightly they'd clamped onto each other, it hadn't been enough. They'd lost. Val's plan felt flimsy, weak, a dam made of leaves in the middle of a river during a torrential monsoon, trying its hardest to redirect the flow. How could one girl battle the Earth?
To the east, the difference between the golden desert that was left untouched and the shambles of the area compensated by the flood was stark. The abrupt transition appeared as a wiggling line that snaked north to south across the landscape, denoting the farthest extent the wave had reached. Val had thought this area was flat when they first got there, compared to the mountainous west coast and the hills of the east by BSTU. But now...
It was as if a bully took offense to a gingerbread village and decided to flatten it with a rolling pin. Everything had folded like dominoes, imbricated in the direction the wave had been herding. It was all thoroughly eviscerated. Val couldn't discern what was what. A blanket of dead plants was peppered with wooden debris from structures that had either been flattened by the force of the wall of water or by the tornado earlier that had just churned it into easily lofted flotsam, likely creating impactors that subsequently reconstructed other buildings. A piece of metal poked out of other soaked debris—the silo? Or... could it be Reed's baby? She couldn't recall what color it had been before it became as dusty as everything else in this part of the country.
She spun around to look the other way as the last of the water slurped back from whence it came, except for low spots in which puddled lakes remained.
On one hand, there was no evidence of rising plumes of steam and smoke. The fire had been successfully put out.
On the other hand, there were miles and miles that was now a dirty, muddy mish-mash of destruction. All of the dust and soot that had been coating the air and ground had been spread out in a hodge podge, soaking the surface like a puddle of melted chocolate ice cream.
Val's chin began to wobble.
"Val?" Nor's voice was soft. He was on the ground waiting for her, his boots sinking into the damp soil.
His outline blurred and wavered. Val couldn't let go of her rung. It was hopeless. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice cracking, and she buried her face in her inner elbows, fingers clenching the ladder as if she could remain free of the reality of what had happened if she didn't step foot into the disaster zone.
The scent of blood seared her nose as she sniffed, her nose and eyes streaming. There was no escaping this.
◆◆◆
Once Val had added her tears to the saltwater accumulating in the ground, she climbed back up, afraid to look back at Nor. She didn't know how far he'd gone, if he'd gone. Keeping her back to the road, arms wrapped around her knees to hide the nail-marks, her teeth chattering, her gaze bore, unfocused, into a dislocated door half-buried under soggy cornstalks. The plants had already died ages ago, frying under the sun. Now, the soil in which they might have had a chance to regrow was poisoned with brine. That saltwater would permeate the groundwater, polluting freshwater springs. Even the rivers in the area would have gotten a wash of salt.
Like humans, animal- and plant-life could not adapt to such sudden changes in their environment.
This had been a death sentence.
Val was all about sacrifice the few for the greater good. Marissa Acton's decision was more about sacrifice everything for the greater... mediocrity. Fire was an excellent way for the Earth to recycle—it sequestered carbon in the soil and cut down on overgrowth, and animals were usually smart enough to escape a wildfire, seeking a new habitat until the fertilized soil spawned a new generation of life. A flash flood? Val could think of no benefits except that the fire would not harm human structures.
What had Mom done?
Maybe Reed was right. The Earth was better off without humans. Val had hoped to root out and cultivate a return to harmonious coexistence. That's what she'd been aiming for—compatibility rather than the competitive race they were in with their own host. It was unsustainable.
Couples therapy, that's all they needed. Val had jeered when Nor vouched for peace between Earth and homo sapiens on their ride out into the Midwest. It wasn't untrue. But who was an impartial judge to negotiate for a middle ground compromise? It was clear they were not suited to be mediator. Marissa Acton had made a misstep. Valerie's plan would work.
It had to.
When the sound of helicopters sliced through the unnatural lifeless stillness, Ace sprang to his feet with a shout. Henley provided energetic waving to get their attention. Val, however, remained seated where she was, and she only drew to consciousness the portion of her mind that was necessary to get her standing and into the basket when it lowered. The rest of her mind was washed out.
"Nor," she heard herself say into the mic of the radio Ace slipped over her head. "We need to find Nor. We can't lose him..." ...too.
They switched to a search pattern, the bird passing back and forth in swaths that shifted them stepwise East. When the pilot finally spotted someone of the correct description, Val teared up again, and she had no idea why. Nor hadn't been gone-gone. Not really.
The chopper lowered to hover over the ground but the pilot refused to land, saying it was too unstable given how wet the ground was. Val unbuckled and leaped out, running over to Nor who was sitting on the side door of an overturned Jeep, his back to them.
Val hesitated, then scaled the vehicle next to him, almost able to hear Reed scolding her for putting her muddy shoes on his baby. She sat next to Nor, not attempting to speak over the helicopter's whooping rotors. Cautiously, she lay her head on his shoulder, her legs stretched out in front of her. She admired them as Reed had, the legs that weren't always hers, and picked at the shorts Reed had watched her remove hungrily.
"Val!" Ace's shout came from miles away.
Grudgingly, Val roused herself, sliding her ass off his baby with disturbing morbid pleasure and offering a hand to Nor, the same as she'd offered his brother.
Nor stared at it, rivulets coursing down his cheeks. Visibly collecting himself, he gave the baby a loving pat and accompanied Val into the helicopter, their attention locked out the window as they flew west over countless other demolished lives.
The port wasn't simply quenched, it was gone. Completely obliterated.
The bridge across the seaway was also pulverized. Forget repair. The department would have to build from scratch. Until then, the halves of the country would be separated.
The seaway undulated, swishing back and forth in slow motion as if it had been slumbering and had been disturbed into activity.
When they banked near USGCS headquarters, Nor let o
ut a moan through their radio. Val ducked to glimpse what had disturbed him, and she, too, squeaked. The mountains, majestic and splendid in their height, were bald, naked. Striations carved down their sides where bits of glacier or chunks of rock had scraped along and avalanches had scoured their way from peak to base. Trees were bowled over. Those near the top tipped downslope whereas those on the bottom third were felled pointing up. The tips met at a seemingly arbitrary point in the middle, which indicated how high the back flow of the seiche had sloshed. That height was far lower than the initial wave's altitude to the east. The energy had dissipated with each successive wave as Ace had said it would. The USGCS, therefore, had been untouched. Distaste soured the back of Val's tongue. They sat on their throne and dictated the lives—or rather ended the lives—of their peasants. She could see it now through Reed's tint.
"Mother freaking hell," Val breathed with wrath scorching up her spine. Her insides settled, sinking deep and low as though crouching, ready for a pounce, and her anger built there, roiling and heating.
As soon as the chopper touched down and Val's old assistant, Richard, came trotting up dutifully to welcome them, Val snarled. "Take me to my mom."
Richard's subservient smile slipped. "I'm sorry, miss. Your mom—?"
Curse this body that had been her own decision. The Actons and their decision-making was questionable.
Ace vouched for her. "She's with me, Richard. Take us directly to Marissa Acton."
Mollified, Richard complied. "That was my intention. You're to come with me to her office right away. All of you."
Nor seemed reticent. However, he had nowhere else to go, so he trailed along.
"Are you always going to drip onto my floor?" Richard asked with dismay as they traipsed through the halls.
Ace scowled.
Richard led them down several corridors, and everyone Val used to order around ignored them. It was disconcerting. In the past, they'd either snap to attention or back away, scurry off to do something, look busy. Now, they barely glanced up. Val tried not to overtake Richard, her emotions powering her saunter.
Richard gestured gallantly to the door of Val's office. It was as if the world had flipped upside down with that seiche.
Val stormed past his introduction. "Mom, what the hell—"
"Language," was the sharp retort as Marissa Acton looked up from her desk where she was reading through several important folders of information. Then she pushed to her feet, her face furrowing. "Val?"
Valerie waved an arm. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save the parent lecture about loving my body and never changing who I am or whatever. I'll discuss this after we address what the—"
Marissa's mouth snapped shut to shoot a censuring look at her daughter.
"—heck you thought you were doing, destroying the last freaking glaciers in the United States and flash-flooding the Midwest with saltwater with less than a day's warning? It's not like there are freaking tsunami sirens out there—that seiche wasn't expected. You're messing with things that shouldn't be messed with, and what gives you the audacity, the permission to take out an entire part of the country like that? That's not what we're about."
Marissa sat back down, calmly folding her fingers on her desk. "Are you done?"
"Not even close," Val seethed. Her rant was merely fueling her indignation.
"Val," Ace pleaded.
Marissa held up a hand. "Please, sit, everyone. Thank you, Richard. You may go," Marissa dismissed.
Val's temper flared as her assistant bowed and backed out the door. "No, Richard. Stay."
He hesitated. "Uhh..."
Val tossed her hair. "I'm Director Valerie Acton, and I'd like to take back my job, thanks, because clearly you are too old and senile to do it any longer, Mom."
"Val." Ace was not having it.
Marissa gave Richard a nod, and he departed, the door closing with a click.
The others were standing back, waiting for the alphas to battle it out without picking a side or getting in the way. Marissa raised a brow. "I see you brought your sister home as I asked of you, Ace." She inspected the rest of the group. "Weren't there another two you were collecting?"
Ace cleared his throat. He didn't move forward, staying clear of getting between his mom and sister. "We found one of them. But—"
"But he was swept away in the flood. Pulled right from my freaking hands, Mom." Val splayed her hands out flat, displaying her wounds. "In front of his brother." One hand whipped out, flinging around to point at Nor.
Marissa's cool gaze feathered across Nor. "I am so sorry for your loss. It is a true tragedy the lives that are impacted in such disasters."
Val stomped forward and slammed her palms on the desk. "What the hell, mom? That wasn't a natural disaster! You induced that. It's not a loss. It's on your hands, Mom. It's premeditated murder."
Marissa sat back in her chair. "I think this is proof that you are not fit to take back your role. You of all people know that, in this position, it is the nation you must consider. One must weigh the whole over the cost of preserving a small fraction. Harm is by no means anything that is intended by these kinds of extreme decisions. But the health of the country in its entirety is always priority."
Val yanked her hands back as if the desk were a hot stove, and her jaw clenched.
She paced to the map of the seaway, staring at the marker she herself sketched on there to demarcate its boundaries as it grew. It would have to be updated now. She could color over the bridge.
Val wasn't just angry at her mom because of the decisions she'd made that resulted in the destruction of a significant percentage of the land under her jurisdiction. She was also freaking pissed that her mom was right.
That was the rule.
That was the expectation.
That was how Val had always done things.
That was how she should continue to do things.
"Well, what now?" Val leaned a shoulder against the map, the paper crinkling, and crossed her arms, squinting at her mom.
"Now? Well..." The DMM Director paused and reconsidered the rest of the group who were abnormally silent and immobile. Small puddles were forming at their feet. "Please. Sit." It was no longer a request.
The guys sat in the two chairs, and Ace pulled Henley onto his lap, raising his chin when their mom's brows shot up at the position. Val couldn't care less about Ace's romantic status right now. There were bigger issues. Couldn't she see that? And Henley hadn't asked a question since before the wave hit—it was clear that her brain was not functioning at top gear.
"Well," she started again. "Now, we continue our search and rescue efforts to recover survivors and send out aid to the areas where communities are most in need. After the mandated seventy-two hours, we call off the search and turn our efforts to rebuilding."
"Rebuild?" Henley blinked.
"Yes. We may not be able to avoid some collateral, but we do make it a secondary focus to ameliorate any incidental damage.
"You want to send people back into that dead part of the country?"
"You misunderstand. We do not rebuild exactly as it was. This is an opportunity to start fresh. We can make adjustments to better prepare for situations like we've had recently, to better live with the greater dangers from nature. We utilize the work of scientists at the USGCS, such as Ace—" She gestured at her son, and he smiled at Henley. "—to anticipate future conditions and prepare the population to withstand them."
A brow lifted at Val. "This is your vision, what you started before you left. You were pushing so hard for drastic advancements." Her hands unfolded. "Now is the time." Marissa paused.
Val chewed on the inside of her cheeks.
"I was going to offer, once you returned, that you could assist me with this matter since you were the visionary and I merely the catalyst." She turned to her son. "I suppose Miss Bickford was a catalyst as well."
Henley's head burrowed deeper into Ace's neck, curtained behind the ends of his shortened hair.
There was a cold silence as Marissa Acton waited for her daughter to step into the shoes she'd placed in front of her. Val had worn them with pride before. She had felt good, powerful, meaningful. Then she'd slipped them off and tiptoed into her secret mission, barefoot and bold, sliding into Jennifer Tate's shoes. Now that she was being offered the throne again... Temptation was curling her fingers into Val.
But the shoes seemed more like cement blocks this time, static and uncomfortable. She'd been left in the middle of nowhere, living a weird version of an American family life with Reed and Mrs. Juarez and Tio, working hard as a team to survive, and that seemed to be tripping her up. As if, while she'd paused there, her laces had been tied together.
"Are you capable and willing to focus on the big picture and address the duties assigned to this title, or will you let minor details sway you away from making decisions that are required of you?" Marissa reiterated.
Val's roving eyes slammed into Nor when she said, "minor details," so Val noticed the wince that spasmed across Nor's vacant expression.
She mentally pulled her feet free from the muddied dirt in the Midwest. Reed was gone. He wasn't a minor detail to Nor. He had been nothing to her. Sacrifice the few. Val tipped her chin up. "Yes. I can."
Marissa blinked her approval, softening just slightly from Director mode to Mom. "In that case, I turn the question over to you. What now?"
"Now?" Val swallowed and did not look at Nor. "I need to complete the first step in my plan. She's somewhere between the seaway and a small town north of Boston. It's somewhat a part of the search-and-rescue operation."
Marissa's eyes narrowed. "She? You want to defer search-and-rescue recourses to a reconnaissance mission for one person? I thought I just explained—"
"No. This is not a person. This is why I've been gone, why I sent Ace to BSTU, why I did this." Val gestured at herself. "She is the next species of human. We can't completely rebuild our surroundings to fit the changing environment. What we need to rebuild is ourselves. This is how we do that. This is how we survive."