by Sara Kincaid
I think I might have discovered it and I feel the same elation I felt all those years ago when the smog parted just so and the tiny dots of the stars blinked through the film we planted in the skies through our own willful ignorance. It was the first time in my whole life that I’d gotten to see that. It’s like the sensation of a cool breeze or the dazzle of color that the City elite twirl around themselves or tie in their hair.
Whatever this thing is, it’s not normal. I’m both enthralled by it and afraid of what it might mean. It defies every rule that I know. It laughs in the face of science. But I am a scientist, so I cannot accept nor deny its presence until I know more.
You probably think I’m crazy, or just rambling. I know if Brandi were to read this, she would roll her eyes. She has never understood what it means to be from the farms. How could she? How could any of you City folk? All we want is an end to the destruction and a mending of fences between our two homes. “Farm Boy” they call me with sneers even as I serve my call to the earth and work to solve the problems our ancestors created in an effort to save our mother, our livelihood.
But now, there might be a solution and it revolves around one of our most precious resources. Water.
I am so tired right now. So tired and ill. I can still barely believe what has happened. What I’ve done.
I’m writing this, though you’ll never read it. But you’re the only person who would understand. You’re the only person who accepted me in spite of my heritage. You were never fooled by the propaganda around Chem Sickness. Of course, as the mayor’s public relations officer, you’re the queen of propaganda now. You can smell a lie better than anyone. And I know you hate every moment of it.
But this isn’t a lie. In my grandest dreams, I could not have imagined it. I have developed some ability, some strange mechanism to clean the water with my mind. I must go. There’s much to do.
Bram
Chapter 2
No Man’s Land was empty as far as the eye could see. As my feet touched the parched ground, I could feel the sickness slogging through the veins of the earth. I thought of Bram, the martyr and pacifist, the first of our kind. No one had given us a name back then. Kade Hollis, now the top administrator at the CPA, took it upon himself to do that honor following Bram’s violent death. “Curare,” he called us, for we were their answer to a desperate problem. We would heal the earth; and surely, where there was one person with strange abilities, there would be more. He was right.
In my heart, I too felt the stirring of Bram’s dream for the earth, a wish for reconciliation between humanity and their way of life. It was a common dream for those of us from the farms. Through these stories, I learned about my aunt, Annel, a Curare stolen by the CPA and now lost to an unknown fate.
Society made some adjustments when the Curare appeared, but it cost them their freedom, their humanity and their lives. I wanted to be as far from that cage as possible. So, I walked on through the snarled foliage that crunched like bugs beneath my feet.
The plants that lived in spite of the drought and unbearable heat were shrubs with wiry roots that punctured the earth, leaving angry cracks in their wake. The ground was dry and my mouth felt perpetually full of dust as we walked. Around us, all was silent and it seemed that we were the only people left alive in a vast wasteland.
Despite the sickly trees and the bare patches of earth with deep crevices that looked like wrinkled skin, I dug my toes into the ground with each step. I had spent my life running barefoot through the green hills and valleys of South Farm and even though the earth here looked strange, I still wanted to hug it close. Back home, under cover of night, I would run unchecked through the fields, my spiky hair like ink and my fair skin wan in the moonless gloom as I took my fill like a vampire.
During the day, to avoid suspicion and questions, I had grown accustomed to wrapping my feet with ribbons of fabric, leaving my toes and heels exposed to the ground so that I could satisfy my hunger and leave minimal evidence in my wake. The ribbons wound their way up my calves, meeting my hemp cropped pants just below the knees.
Running now from that verdant life, Leo was nearly silent beside me and I caught myself looking his way more than once. My feelings about Leo were complicated. He was not my top choice for a travel companion. He was difficult and bossy, always thinking he knew best. He’d wormed his way into our family, into my parent’s trust. But he was an outsider, a City Slicker. How could I trust him? And yet, something drew me to him in the same unknowable way that I was drawn to the earth.
Perhaps I merely needed to feed. I could taste the unnatural, sour flavor of hundreds of years of abuse and chemicals as the essence of the land coursed through me. Even my insides felt dirty. “Can you feel it?” I asked, in spite of myself. Of course he couldn’t. He wasn’t Curare.
“What?”
“This,” I swept my hand wide, gesturing to the mess around us. I tried to keep my temper in check. He had saved my life, after all.
“Oh,” he bit his lip, thinking, and then shook his head. I turned away. “Are you okay?” His tone was the complete opposite of what it had been as we’d made our escape from South Farm.
Though he couldn’t really, he tried to understand. Surprised, I gave a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t always so difficult. “For now.” The tainted energy of No Man’s Land exhausted me; and yet, I felt that I could, for once, almost breathe. South Farm had been home, but it was difficult to hide my true nature from those living nearby. I knew that I was still in danger, but our escape left me with a seed of hope.
In the heat of the day, Leo and I took refuge in the shade of the skeleton trees that dotted the landscape to hide from any transports. The air was thick like smoke and the waves of heat snaked up from the ground in tiny rivers. I’d lost sight of the green hills of South Farm early that first day and we were now surrounded by different shades of brown. They matched the hues of the undyed clothes we wore, the uniform of all who were left. “We should wait until dark before we move again,” Leo suggested, interrupting the silence that had blanketed our hike.
“Okay. And then where are we going?” The question had burned in my mind all day, but I knew that it would break the flimsy peace between us.
“To the City.”
“The City?” I stopped in my tracks, my heart dropping to my stomach, all thoughts of peace forgotten. “You can’t be serious. You have to have papers to get in there.” Because I had avoided the Pop tests as a child, I was never issued proper papers. I never would have received them anyway because I would have failed the Curare test. The City was the last place I wanted to go.
“I know people in the City who will help us.”
“You know people?” I nearly snorted and spun angrily to face him. He’d already found a spot on the ground as I fumed. “What do you mean you know people?” I glared down at him. He was all long legs and hard muscle, lounging on his elbows. His loose hemp shirt was stained with dust and sweat streaked down his neck. He looked at home in this desert in spite of his City roots and I nearly hated him for it. “Who exactly are you and why are you here?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and widened my stance, ready for a verbal assault or even a battle. As if I could really fend him off.
“You just have to trust me.” His tenor voice rumbled with these simple words.
Trust. Nature had been entrusted to mankind and we betrayed that trust. Look where that got us. How could I explain this to him? I didn’t want to. But he needed to know that his plea was ridiculous. “I trust no one, Leo.” If he was hurt by my declaration, he didn’t show it. I had been taught to fear. Fear kept me alive.
“You must have trusted me enough to show me what you are. That took something,” he grasped. I heard the glimmer of hope in his voice, like a bell in the otherwise silent valley.
For a moment, I felt bad. I grumbled in response. It was true. I had shown Leo my abilities one rainy a
fternoon the previous spring. We had gone to town for supplies and our transport, built before the days of airborne transportation, had gotten stuck in the mud. I slipped in the muck and caught myself on the corner of a rusty piece of metal left carelessly on the side of the road.
“I didn’t trust you. I was tired of hiding in my own home. I’ve been hiding my whole life.” I sat down with a huff, crossing my legs beneath me.
He absorbed this quietly. “If we go to the City, you won’t have to hide anymore.”
I groaned in disgust. “What is with you and the City? I’m not going there.” How could I get energy? There are no plants.
“I wish you would just trust me. Where I want to take you, you will be safe.”
“Why should I?” Secretly, I wanted to trust him, but that meant putting my life in someone else’s hands—someone who stuck by my side for some reason I couldn’t understand—in the middle of the desert, likely with soldiers on our trail.
“Because I just saved your life?” He raised his eyebrows, but stayed lounging casually on the ground.
“You’ve done nothing but study me since the moment you learned about my ability.” I slapped the dirt in frustration.
He groaned and covered his face with his palm. “I wasn’t studying you.”
“Oh really? Then what were you doing?”
He raised his eye to meet mine and was silent for a moment. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. I’ve come...I want to help you.” Leo slipped the pack he’d been carrying off his shoulder. It was tan and dirty, made of hemp just like his clothes. “Maybe some water would help? I brought two canteens.” He pulled one from the pack and held it out to me. I eyed the canteen skeptically, wanting to reject his offer simply because I could. He’d planned this. Or anticipated it. He knew we’d be leaving.
Finally, my need for cool water won out and I took the metal canister from him. Water trickled down my chin as I sipped. “There. That’s better,” he nodded, satisfied.
We sat in silence in the shade for some time and I watched the slow drift of the sun through the cloudy smog overhead. I sifted dirt and dust through my fingers and thought of my parents, wondering if the CPA had come to our door, if they had been spared or executed. I was fooling myself to think that they were still alive.
My secret had killed so many already. How many more would suffer because of it? The day I had shown Leo my abilities, it was raining. I’d slipped in the mud and caught myself on a piece of metal. He was concerned, worried about me. He’d only wanted to help. Angry at myself and mistrustful of him, I had healed the deep gash right in front of him. My parents would have been horrified if they’d known. How did you do that? His eyes had widened as if he didn’t believe what he’d just seen. I am Curare. I still remembered how it felt when he took my hand.
“You know, you’re not the only one with a secret, Vea.” He looked at me earnestly, his square jaw tense beneath smooth skin.
I blinked, drawn out of my reverie. “And what’s your secret, Leo? Perhaps I’d trust you if you told me.” I glared at him hotly to hide my sorrows.
Leo just shook his head and changed the subject. “Where do you want to go if the City isn’t an option? We can’t wander around here endlessly.”
I knotted the ribbon behind my left calf, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I was thinking East Farm.” In truth, I hadn’t really been thinking at all. But once I said it, I knew that’s where I wanted to go.
“East Farm? Really?” Now it was his turn to look exasperated.
“What’s wrong with East Farm?”
“There’s nothing there. No one’s been there in decades.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and sat up straight. “Exactly.”
Leo paused, absorbing this. His calloused hands clenched and unclenched as he wrestled with his response. “Those people not only stole your childhood, but your home. You’ve been an outcast your whole life. Don’t you think this is how other Curare feel too? Don’t you want to do something about it? Shouldn’t they pay for what they’ve done?”
“And what would I do?” I shouted, forgetting the need for caution. “Should I take on the entire CPA? The entire army by myself? In the history of Curare, there is not one instance of any of us using our abilities to cause harm. Bram didn’t fight back. He chose death rather than hurting others.”
Silence billowed between us and I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Perhaps Bram was wrong,” he answered quietly, his voice filled with a peculiar sadness.
Bram, the original Curare, died violently at the hands of City dwellers after his girlfriend accused him of suffering from Chem Sickness. Bram’s story was part fear and part revenge and he was the victim of both. Despite the lies laid against him, he chose to die at the hands of his accusers and he did it without causing harm. To me, and possibly to other Curare, he was a hero. He was the first and he would not let them take him. He chose death over capture and refused to misuse his abilities, though retaliation was justified.
“It was Bram’s death that kindled Kade’s interest. That three-day rain? Had it not fallen, Bram’s secret would have been safe. They might have accused Brandi of doctoring the video as some sort of revenge plot. But instead, he’s gone and the rest of you have been taken against your will. The GFL and the City would never have established the CPA otherwise.”
Leo was right of course. Kade himself was a scientist and former head of the Government Farm League. He was also the source of my nightmares. He wouldn’t rest until he had every single Curare under his control.
When the government realized that Bram had cleaned the water, they began an urgent search for other Curare. As more of them were discovered and the variety of their abilities catalogued, the government saw both a purpose for them and a way to keep track of and control them. And yet, I defended him. I had always identified with Bram, projecting upon him my loneliness and solitude. I wished that I could create something of beauty from my abilities as he had. Bram had cleaned the water and brought life to a charred earth, while I brought destruction at every turn. Hearing my hero mocked brought rage to my heart and though my energy reserves were low, I could feel the remnants crackling through my body. “Bram was a martyr!”
Leo did not seem bothered at my outburst and he looked down at me calmly as he spoke. “That may be, but it didn’t do the rest of you much good. Now you’re slaves.”
He was baiting me and I knew it. But I wouldn’t let him change the course of my plan. “So that’s all we are? Slaves and outcasts? Well this outcast will not be enslaved by the CPA. I’ve lived a lifetime hiding away from the corruption of the City and the CPA and I intend to continue hiding in East Farm. I will not be their next victim.”
Leo sighed audibly. “Fine. We’ll go to East Farm. At least the threat of Chem Sickness has kept people away. I doubt anyone’s been within ten miles of that place in more than twenty years.” Leo didn’t agree, but still, he followed me.
Aster,
If you saw these letters, would you have kept reading after my confession? Would you think I’ve gone mad? Maybe if I explained further, you’d understand. These words cannot live on the Net. What would happen should anyone discover them?
Something has happened to me. I don’t know what. But while I was home visiting my family in West Farm, I experienced things for which I have no answer.
The sky in West Farm, as I’ve told you, is covered with its residual, permanent film of pollution, just like the City. But if you pay attention, you can distinguish this from storm clouds.
Rain clouds hadn’t been sighted in weeks. The rains are sparse—we are accustomed to this. But somehow, things were different. I could feel my father’s worries for the farm deep in my gut, radiating like the heat that reflected back from the desiccated landscape. My father has always had an uncanny connection to the earth, even for a farmer. His fears
left me with a feeling of dread.
I lay in the shade of a brittle tree, hiding from the heat of the day, the burnt grass poking me through my clothes. I began to dream; but this dream was so real that I felt the cool pelting of the raindrops as they ran down my body, cleansing my skin. I could smell the petrichor, the distinct scent of the land as it was washed anew. I dreamed of rain, and somehow, out of nowhere, it rained.
What’s more, I woke up three days later in my bed with no recollection of moving there. My parents were overwrought with worry, claiming they couldn’t wake me. But beyond that, I was inexplicably exhausted.
The second time, I was awake and witnessed the event myself. This was no dream. I was walking through a copse of trees, drawn from the dirt trail by a strange stench. I pushed my way through the dry, knotted bramble. It raked against my bare skin and clung to my clothing, but I pressed onward. I came upon a stagnant pond, crusted with a thick, gray film.
I was about to turn around and go back when an old man startled me. I slipped and fell up to my knee in the water. The man chided me for falling in. He even called me a Slicker! Can you believe that? He thought I had moved to the farms from the City. In an instant, the water changed. The man accused me of putting something in it, but I hadn’t. It smelled sweet and the pool was so clear I could see the bottom. I reached into the pond with my bare hands and scooped a sample in my palms, ready to taste this miracle for the sake of science. The man stopped me, insisting that he try it for himself. He brought the water to his lips and drank his fill. I waited tensely, watching him for the telltale signs of Chem Sickness. But nothing happened and he declared the water to be the most delicious he’d ever tasted.
Walking back to my parents’ home, I was once again overwhelmed with exhaustion. I crumpled to the ground, the world spinning before my eyes, the heat dancing in gyrating waves off the bare earth.