“I’m holey. Get it? Holey...holy....” I giggled at my own bad joke.
“Okay, clearly the painkillers they gave you are working. Listen, are you going to be able to stay still while I go attend to the rest of our flock?”
I nodded. A little while later a nurse came by with some juice and crackers. She cautioned me to eat them slowly but I scarfed them down before this finished her sentence. My abused stomach protested and for one horrifying second I thought I might vomit, but I kept things down. Now that I was feeling more awake I noticed that my left arm was in a cast, my fingers sticking out of it. My heart ached a little as I saw my wedding band was gone. It was easier than losing the finger, however. A ring could be replaced.
A few visitors stopped by, including one man who introduced himself as David Wayfarer. He was the de facto leader of the shelter, being one of the older members of the shelter. He presented me with a sample set of clothing made of tan cloth, not dissimilar to the clothing we had in the shelter.
“Your wife has already explained the rules of this place?” he said.
I nodded. “You’ll have no trouble from me, sir. Thank you for welcoming our people into your shelter so quickly.”
“You’re welcome. We’re happy to have you folks here. As you know, we’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time. I’m sorry for the loss of your father, by the way. Eliza told me what happened while you were in the machine city.”
“Thank you. He was a great man. I get the feeling that you would have liked him.” We were going to do all right in this place, I decided. The return to a structured life was a welcome relief after a year of chaos and loss. While I recuperated in the infirmary I was treated to the history of this place. As far as anyone knew, this was an abandoned military base. Apparently a small faction of soldiers chose to hole up here back when the world got really rough and the current inhabitants were their progeny. The first wave of humans taught the second wave the discipline of military life and so the values were passed down through generations. It wasn’t too dissimilar to the way I grew up. Everyone had a rotating schedule of jobs, but some choice in how to specialize.
Unlike our shelter, much of the equipment at the base remained intact. The daily upkeep of soldiers past meant that the machines were in good working use. Most of them only required minor repairs or updates. The base had a comprehensive surface to air missile defense grid, a few aircraft that carried passengers, and a multitude of drones and unmanned aerial vehicles that they utilized daily to keep an eye on the machines living only a few klicks away. Much of the machinery had been converted to use electricity as a fuel source. Any remnants of fossil fuels were long useless, dried and crusted to the inside of gas tanks.
The hydroponics in the base were an absolute dream come true. Some kind soul had seen fit to ensure my oil palm DNA mixture into refrigeration as soon as we arrived. Fields upon fields of plants sat at my disposal. There was even a supply of wheat. Apparently seitan was a favorite dish among the population. The shelter had the same 3D printing capabilities we had but given the abundance of fresh food, they were rarely used. I was offered a rare treat as a welcome gift by the botanists—a salad. The crunch of fresh greens and snap of vegetables was a nearly religious experience. As soon as I was finished eating I threw myself into the work. The plants I had already altered were repotted in fresh soil where they would be nurtured with a nutrient rich lamp. It was remedial to get back to work. The aches and pains of my injury were fading away ever so slowly and I relished the chance to take my mind away from the horrors of the journey.
I was just wrapping up for the day when the floor underneath me shook. I took it for a dizzy spell and shook my head to clear it. The ground stopped moving for a moment but the next minute the shaking was worse. That’s when the alarms started.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The alarms were deafening. Each blare was accompanied by blinding flashes from the lights mounted on every wall. A voice came over the speakers instructing everyone to abandon their tasks and proceed to one of the shelter’s sub levels. The ones who lived here lead the evacuation; orderly lines were formed and everyone proceeded down endless sets of staircases toward the shelter’s bomb-proof bunker. I was still a little rickety on my feet, having spent the last half week learning how to live with just one ear. Luckily Marcus had found me on his way to the staircase. He wrapped an arm underneath my arms to form a strong support. If I stumbled, his hands would be right there to grab me. Halfway down the bombs started. You could feel the very concrete that made up the shelter shake; whatever they were dropping above penetrated deeply. After every impact screams echoed through the large shaft, but the lines never stopped moving. Anyone frozen by fear or confusion was aided by the people next to them.
The steps seemed unending and I was feeling dizzy. When I stumbled over my own feet and nearly slammed myself face first into the wall, Marcus had enough. He said something to me but it was impossible to hear over the noise of the alarms and the impacts of the bombs above. He realized my deafness and took matters into his own hands, scooping me into his arms as easily as if I were a child. I shut my eyes and let him carry me down.
“Make way! Make way! Wounded here!” Somehow my son’s voice penetrated the chaos and people moved aside for us. One of the bombs must have tripped the fire suppression system because water poured down on us, a rain that made it even harder to see. I shut my eyes and held on for dear life. Eventually we came to a huge steel door. Marcus carried me through and found our set of bunks. He placed me down on the bed. “I’m going to find Momma. She’s probably up there looking for you.”
God, I hoped not. Endless crowds of people filed into the bunker behind me. You could tell who lived here their whole lives versus the newcomers by the way they comported themselves. David mentioned that sheltering drills were common here. The inhabitants of my shelter tried to stay calm and follow protocol but there was an unmistakable animal panic that shone from their eyes. The bombs kept coming. I thought of the field above, now scorched and burned by the blasts. The ground above us must have resembled a kind of hellscape. I felt for the creatures who would perish as a result of our actions. My concern for the fuzzy creatures was cut short by the announcement that the oxygen vents were closing. This was to protect the population from a possible biological or chemical attack and wouldn’t affect our breathing for the duration. That didn’t make me feel better. I tried to take shallow breaths.
A family moved into the bunk spaces next to us. While the parents were busy unpacking the minimum number of personal belongings they were allowed to take with them, a little girl sat on the bed. Her father wrapped her in a blanket and then returned to the task at hand. The child couldn’t have been much older than four. Her thumb was stuck firmly in her mouth and she jumped at the echoing blasts that made their way into the bunker. I waved at her and smiled. Her brows furrowed, as if trying to figure out why the strange woman was acting so happy when the world was clearly ending. I pointed to myself and mouthed “Fiona”. She nodded and took her thumb out of her mouth. “Becky.” I laughed and reached a hand across the space where she took it. My grandmother’s name was Rebecca. The way Dad talked about her you’d think that she was a pillar of unwavering strength. He said she was always there to protect her children, no matter the cost. Perhaps she had come back to me in this little girl—a sign that we were being watched over.
I pulled down one of my eyelids and stuck my tongue out at Becky. She giggled and stuck her tongue back at me. When I blew my cheeks up like a monkey, she left the bed and toddled my way before poking both cheeks with tiny fingers to let the air out. Her mother stopped what she was doing and reached out to call the girl back but nodded in understanding at a look from me. I screwed my nose up and snorted like a pig and Becky giggled some more, copying the gesture by holding the end of her nose up.
“That’s your momma and daddy, huh Becky?” I had to talk loudly to be heard, but I needed to do something to stay sane.
>
“Uh huh.”
“And they’re taking good care of you, right?” I pointed to her parents who were busy talking to each other, their foreheads touching.
“Yeah.”
“Are you scared of all the big booms?” She shivered a little.
“Yeah.” I thought of the stories I used to tell Marcus at bedtime. There had to be a good one to entertain this girl.
“Well let me tell you something. Do you know the story of the god Thor?” Becky shook her head. “Thor is the god of thunder. He lives in the sky with his two goats. The ancient people used to say that whenever it thundered that mighty Thor was riding his wagon through the sky. They believed that lightning came from his hammer striking down and sparking.”
“What’s thunder?” It hadn’t occurred to me that the girl wouldn’t have had the chance to see a thunderstorm in her lifetime. Weather rolled through the virtual world occasionally but it was possible to deter it from your house if you wished.
“Thunder is kind of like this, but smaller.” I pointed up to the ceiling as another impact rang through the bunker. “It’s when the sky rumbles and you see big streaks of light cut through the clouds. It’s really cool. When we go back outside, would you like me to show you one?” Becky smiled and nodded emphatically. “You got it. I think your parents are looking for you, but I want you to do something for me. Every time you hear ones of those big booms, I want you to imagine it’s Thor’s wagon rumbling through the sky drawn by his goats. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah!” She skipped back to her family’s assigned bed and picked up a stuffed bear and started playing with it.
The distraction had helped me too. The population had made its way into the bunker and it was sealed up. Marcus and Eliza showed up and hugged me.
“I made a new friend.” I gestured toward Becky who waved absentmindedly to us.
“Of course you did.” Eliza chuckled and sat on the bed next to me. “You doing all right?” I nodded and lay back on my pillow. Inhabitants of the base filed down the rows of bunks with flashlights aimed at the ceilings. We were encouraged to get some sleep but it was almost impossible. The barrage continued through the night, ground-shaking impacts that were so inconsistent the moment you started to drift off, another one hit. As I lay awake at some unknown hour I saw the ceiling crack. The break in the concrete wasn’t large, but it was there. If the bunker collapsed on us, at least it would be quick.
I must have drifted off at some point because the next thing I knew Eliza was shaking me awake. The bombing was over and the population was returning to their usual quarters. The damage done overnight was minimal, all things considered. There was some damage to passageways and one of the water filtration systems had been disabled, but the higher-ups assured us that the repairs would restore things to normal quickly. Eliza was invited into the shelter’s ‘command center’ where she was brought up to speed. The initial response to the attack was to fire up the base’s limited defense systems but David stopped them. Revealing the defense systems would only alert the androids as to where they were. Any forces the surface to air missiles would take out wouldn’t make enough of a difference when it meant the bombers would take them out completely. The intelligence the androids had was limited. The base ran regular drone flights around the perimeter and the androids liked to keep to themselves. Limited intelligence meant that the bombings were random. In choosing to shelter rather than defend we had saved dozens of lives.
I wanted to help in the recovery efforts but I was shuttled back to the infirmary. The medics weren’t thrilled with my dizzy spell the night before. Back on to the IV I went. They made sure to take extra images of my brain, lest a rogue aneurysm have formed. I rolled my eyes but cooperated.
It wasn’t until the next evening that I got more information. The androids had sent a message to the leaders of the base. Surrender the humans sheltered within, or suffer the consequences. I felt a massive sense of guilt; it was my fathers and my own actions that had provoked the androids. The two of us, however well intentioned, had set off a series of events that could lead to the death of thousands. There was no going back now. The human commanders didn’t respond, naturally. Instead, all resources were shored up as strongly as possible. If I thought our emergency rations were impressive, they were nothing compared to the stockpile they had at the base. Food and water were moved into the bunker in preparation for an extended siege. The entire base was put on high alert-everyone had to be ready to ditch their tasks at a moment’s notice.
As things were it was largely a waiting game. The androids would launch the occasional attack, none matching the ferocity of the first one. They machines didn’t want to sacrifice more of their soldiers than necessary. The humans sent the occasional drone to retrieve updated information. The ones who made it back showed an amassing of forces. Large, spider like machines crawled the streets of the machine city. Their carcasses were as black and shiny as an insect’s, but there were no obvious weapons hanging from their bodies. Android soldiers were being manufactured at an alarming rate. I now understood the utter, chilling fear that my father must have felt when he realized the sheer power Gabriel held. Now we were facing an army of Gabriels, every one with a murderous vendetta as their sole purpose in life. Fear had ruled my life for so many years. I couldn’t escape it in the shelter, so I moved our family into the virtual world. Faced with the prospect of certain death, I couldn’t outrun it there and I was ripped away again. I had been consumed by fear these past few weeks, between losing Dad, Eliza being shot, and the attacks on the shelter, fear was my new best friend.
No longer. We were situated in a fortified base with weaponry and defenses. There was no food crisis anymore. The modified potatoes were growing strong and ensured that we had a food supply well into the future. My wife had healed up and was back in her leadership duties, stronger than ever. Our people were safe. It was time to let myself breathe.
It was time to fight.
About the Author
When she's not playing pirate aboard tall ships or hunting down the best place to grab ramen in whichever country she's found herself in, Liz McLaughlin can be found at her keyboard, bringing to life science fiction stories to change the world. A lifelong avid reader and winner of her seventh grade Young Authors contest (thanks Mom and Dad!), Liz broke into writing in search of a way to bring diversity and representation to science fiction and beyond. Her stories seek to change the genre through normalizing people of color and LGBTQIA+ as participants in the futuristic epics we all know and love.
Destiny: Quantic Dreams Book 3 Page 19