Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

I gave her a mock glare. “Woman, if you ever suggest we put a stinking, bloody carcass in Dixie again, there will be consequences.”

  She put her hands on her hips, returning the look. “I can tolerate sharing you. I can tolerate your snoring—”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “You do, and you know it. But naming that car? And the way you look at. . . her?” She shook her head. “I have limits.”

  “Lots of people named their cars,” I protested.

  “Yeah, two thousand years ago. Now, what about the pig?” she asked.

  “I’ll drain and gut it here, but I already have a solution.” I gave the sky a look, then reached into my backpack and withdrew a flare gun. We’d found three of them in the Oasis underground, and test-firing one of them yielded a shot that was still bright enough to see in the daytime. “Natif is watching, and we’re less than two klicks from home and higher up. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Which is? Send help?” she asked, pulling her knife and testing the edge. She wasn’t faint of heart. If there was work to be done, it didn’t matter how bloody, Mira was good for her share.

  “The Harlings are coming with a wagon,” I said, drawing my own hunting knife and squatting next to the pig. “Must weigh at least 800 kilos. Easy.”

  “Food for a month. Or more, if we add to it. I’m plenty tired of blood chicken and frybread,” she said. We all were, but in a few weeks, our gardens would be large enough to supply food, rather than just transplants and seeds.

  “I’ll have Natif gather any oak limbs that have dropped. I think it’s time to build a smokehouse,” I said, slicing into the hog. We would use every part of it except the viscera for food. The guts would go into the ground as fertilizer, and the hide would be cured. I even had plans for the tusks, once I got them out of the giant skull.

  “You mean we can have bacon? And hams?” Mira had a near sexual glow to her face. She really was my kind of woman.

  “And smoked fish, and we’ll hang birds in there, too. Hell, if we can find enough wood, we might even smoke cure some eggs,” I said.

  “Let’s start with ham,” Mira said, cutting down the hog’s bulging spine. “Then we can worry about eggs.”

  I began my work, and the pig’s hide fought my knife like it was made of steel. When I looked up, Mira was smiling. “What?”

  “Do you think we’re going to make it?” she asked. In that moment, she seemed young.

  I smiled at her, and her beauty, and all the challenges ahead of us seemed like something we could handle. I knew there would be hard days, but we had a chance. A good one.

  I leaned forward across the hog and kissed her. Despite the scene, she didn’t pull back. “We will if I have anything to say about it.”

  Driving the knife into the pig, she grinned. “Good enough for me.”

  2

  “At some point, we’re going to need a sawmill,” I said, watching Natif pile oak limbs into the firepit.

  “Why?” he asked, his hands never stopping. The kid was a machine, and he would be a solid fighter once he got some size to him. The other children were tougher than I was used to seeing, too, being the children of traders. The Harling kids—Korina and Beck—were both busy, bright, and fearless. The Empty made for hardy people, even when they were under the age of twelve. I answered with the future in mind, because every decision I made had long-range effects.

  “We need our own lumber, and I think we can build our own forest, even if it wouldn’t grow naturally,” I told him. When he had the limbs in place, I drove the first of two heavy stakes into the ground. We were in an open area near the Oasis center, close to where ogre blood had been spilled to free the place and make it our own. The heat from cooking pork would go up without harming the tree canopy, as well as giving us light for the family meeting.

  There were enough of us that one fire was too small for the whole group, but for tonight, it would be me, Mira, Silk, and the Harlings, with Natif and Lasser working on dinner detail. Korina and Beck were brewing tea on a small brick oven we’d built. We had plenty of clean water and herbs for tea, though I would have killed for coffee. Maybe someday we would have our own supply.

  “How long will it take to cook?” Lasser asked. He stood, knife poised over a large chunk of pork that was marbled with fat and glistening in the fading light of day.

  “Faster if you split it into chunks. Let’s do kebabs. We’ve got those lengths of steel from down under, right?” I asked.

  Lasser merely nodded, cutting at the loin with efficient strokes and handing them to me. I watched as Natif pierced the chunks of meat, sliding three or four onto each length of steel.

  “Clouds tomorrow,” Doss Harling said from under a nearby tree. “No rain, but maybe good for planting some of those saplings.”

  “How many are ready?” I asked. I knew, but I wanted everyone invested in the planting. We were building our future, one tree at a time.

  “Forty. The seeds are—never seen anything like it,” Doss said.

  “Gene splicing and who knows what else for everything in the vault. I’ve read about that in the drives. Incredible to think that once upon a time, we could change the very nature of things. With the improvements to the seeds, I wouldn’t be surprised if we have another 200 by springtime,” Lasser remarked, turning his kebab slowly. The fire snapped away, hot flames rising as coals built below. Everyone looked at the fire as a talisman. It was something we built, in the middle of a place carved out of a howling wilderness, and if I made the right calls, we could grow into something more than an outpost.

  We could have a life. Safety. Another generation, and one beyond that.

  “Will you look in the drives tonight?” Silk asked me. I spent one hour a night combing through the huge stores of data she managed to save. It would take months—maybe years—to get through the handful of terabyte drives, but I learned something each night; often a clue that would help us as we expanded outward.

  “Not tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll clear another room in the second wing down under, then plant. We need to talk about leaving some gaps in the trees,” I said, pushing my kebab closer to the glowing coals.

  “A gap? Why?” Mira asked.

  “Call me a hopeless optimist, but I think we should start making space for homes. We’ll have more people, and they’ll need to live somewhere. When they arrive and prove their value, they can build. By having a plan, we grow in a smart way, instead of chaotic streets and random channels of flowing water. The wheel shape works, but only if people can live in concentric rings. Better for defense, and better for order,” I said.

  “What will they build their houses from, Jack?” Natif asked. He touched a sizzling piece of pork, burned his fingers, and stuck them in his mouth with a rueful grin.

  “There’s plenty of stone for foundations, and we can run water to each house if they’re lined up the right way. I think we plan on two materials—wood and stone. That’s one of the reasons we need a sawmill. Or at least, we need a way to cut big lumber. If we can, it changes things. We can think beyond a simple house. We can build walls. Towers. All of the things we need to repel an attack,” I said.

  “But we’re not under attack,” Natif protested.

  “We will be,” Doss said. “As soon as word of this gets out, people will want to live here. That’s great, because we need the help, but when someone comes who we don’t want?” He chopped his hand down onto one knee, hard. “We got a fight.”

  “Are we ever gonna eat?” Korina asked, pouring tea that had cooled somewhat. She was handing cups around while her brother fetched more water. The tea was different than water, which kept me from going insane while we figured out a way to brew beer, or we found a random herd of cows for milk. I needed variety in my diet, just like my life.

  I took a bite of the pork. It was good. Better than good, because it wasn’t blood chicken, which doesn’t taste like chicken, but gamey turkey with an attitude. Still, it was better than starving, and we were clo
se to having a fully producing garden system. “We can eat. Come on and get yours. There’s plenty to go around.”

  We spent the next few minutes eating in companionable silence, the night closing in slowly. The trees offered shade, cooler air, and a sense of security from the wide-open skies that made The Empty seem vaguely dangerous, even on a sunny day. I did some quick math and made a decision about planting the next day. It was time to put plans into motion for the Free Oasis as more than a community, but a hub, and the fulcrum upon which we could build a society.

  “If we protect the water from evaporation, how far can we expect it to flow outward form the springs?” I asked everyone. I knew we would eventually hit a limit to how far the water would travel, limiting the size of our town. I needed ideas to combat that, and right away.

  “Three things,” Doss Harling said, pointing down a row of trees where water ran on either side. “We’ve got plenty of water right now, too much in fact. We don’t have to save it because there’s only the few of us. That’s gonna change, like you’re thinking.”

  “Give me the ideas in order, based on what you think will work. Then we can pick one and move forward. We’re planting tomorrow, and I want us to have a plan in motion for when this forest gets big enough to change the way we live,” I said.

  “It already has,” Lasser said. “But soon, it will be too big for us to think of as a garden. It will be a thing all its own, a place, and we will go from tenders to invaders. Life will find the trees, and we must make certain that we’re welcome in our own homes.”

  “It’s already happening. Birds, small animals—they’re all here, and it will only get better. I see it as a good thing, but you’re right. We need to make sure the forest provides us with protection as well as a home. The two are different. What’s your first idea, Doss?” I asked.

  “Mud,” he said.

  “Mud?” I asked. “There’s more, right?”

  “Indeed. Mud tiles. Long, flat, baked in the sun. We cover the channels with them, and they keep the sun away from the water. Make the tiles easy to move, and we can slide them outward along the channels, because the trees provide cover in the forest. The saplings and vegetable areas can’t. We can probably—” He thought for a moment, chewing. “—extend the flow of the springs by a full klick to the west, maybe a klick and a half in every other direction. There’s a rise to the west; it will cause the water to pond. Which brings me to my second idea.”

  “Go ahead,” I said. He was sharp. The idea already sounded good.

  “A pond or a series of cisterns. Or both. Make that the second and third ideas, but they would work together and let us build the Oasis outward. Make a hub of homes around a cistern, instead of a ring of homes. You see the logic?” he asked.

  Mira did. So did Silk. Silk spoke first. “The ring of homes would get too wide to protect, and we would continually be building outward in thin lines of defense. We can—”

  “Build hubs and then build an outer wall,” I finished. “Then, as people arrive, we can build a second wall, but that only happens if we add one critical thing.”

  “Which is?” Silk asked.

  “More water,” I said.

  “We already have it,” Doss said. “To the east, three hundred meters. You know the clump of succulents?” He pointed across the forest to an invisible depression filled with a colony of fat-leaved plants that looked like broad, spineless cacti.

  “Sure. You think there’s water there?” I asked.

  “I know it. Those succulents wouldn’t be there if there wasn’t a source. How deep it is, I don’t know, but their roots can’t go more than ten meters. What if we build our cistern there, stone the walls of the well, and start planting a second forest. We connect the two by a road and triple the size of the oasis before people can begin settling here.” He grinned, then added, “With your permission, of course.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be an emperor. Just didn’t know it would be in Oklahoma,” I said, laughing.

  “What’s Oklahoma?” Natif asked.

  “All around you. This used to be called Oklahoma, but now you call it The Empty. Would have worked as a name in my time, too, but we have a chance to reclaim it.” I rubbed my hands together, thinking. “It’s a good idea, Doss. More water is good, and covering the channels will let us extend our irrigation. Three ponds, then one cistern, and we mark out a place for a defensive wall at some point in the future. I don’t like having all of this wealth with our asses hanging out exposed to the next petty tyrant who thinks they can take control of the world.”

  “That’s your job, right?” Mira asked, reaching out to touch my face. Her lips were curled up in the hint of a laugh.

  “I’ve always wanted to wear a crown. Just make sure it isn’t gold,” I said.

  “Why? Gold is fancy,” Fleura said, grinning.

  “Yeah, but whoever wears a gold crown never keeps their head for very long. I like mine attached,” I said. “Okay, in the morning Doss can show us how to make tiles out of mud, and we’ll get on tree detail. Let’s build an empire.”

  “I’d settle for a comfortable bed,” Mira groused.

  I drew close as everyone began standing to go off on their own for the moment, my voice low and in her ear. “I’ll be under you. Don’t worry about being comfortable.”

  Her answer was a hand on my leg and a smile filled with promise.

  3

  “Wagon approaching,” Fleura said. “Single, three ogres. Coming from the northwest.”

  “Let’s make ready to greet them,” I said, moving along the path without a backward glance. Natif was already in motion, rounding everyone up. He’d been marking three rows for new saplings, a practice we found much more sensible given the irritation of hauling young trees through hallways and stairs. We would load five at a time, staging them just out of the sun so they didn’t wilt in the open central area where the stairwell emerged into the heart of our Oasis.

  “Any idea who?” Mira called, joining me. Silk was with her, both their faces grim with the unknown.

  “Don’t think it’s hostile. Too small for a raiding party, and damned stupid if they are,” I said. “What’s that?” I pointed to a shadowed form, high above and looping a lazy circle.

  “Not a blood chicken. Too big for a hawk,” Mira said. She had a hand held over her eyes at an angle, shielding herself from the worst of the morning sun.

  Lasser was some distance away, emerging from the trees. He held a pistol low, barrel down and head titled as he considered the unusual shape. “Not an eagle, either. Far too large.”

  “Something new, then, and following our guests with some interest. Mira, grab your rifle just in case. Let’s greet the wagon and keep an eye on the sky.” In the desert, there was lack of context to judge how big things were, even when they were fairly close. That was a problem, because I had the suspicion whatever made lazy circles over—

  “It’s Derin,” Mira said, her voice raised with excitement. “And Scoot, too!” She began trotting out into the open, hailing the pair as they waved from the wagon seat. The ogres began to slow, and Scoot leapt down to hand them a wooden bowl, filling it from a skin as the beasts stood panting in the sun.

  I felt the same twinge, watching the ogres drink slowly then wipe their mouths with broad, furred hands. So close to us, and we did this to them. Someday, I’ll find out who.

  I cupped my hands to bellow a greeting when a shadow raced across the ground, the shape a massive delta. “Scoot, down!” I shouted, but she was already diving to the sands, her father raising his gun in a desperate attempt to track the streaking shape.

  The predator slammed into the lead ogre like a freight train, sending the ogre’s head skyward in a spurt of hot blood. It turned for another pass as the ogre slumped over, limp and dead, dragging its yoke mate to the ground in a hooting frenzy. The other ogres went back-to-back, instincts kicking in as they raised their spade-like hands in a defensive posture. They were slow but hideously st
rong, and if the attacking flyer came close enough to grab, I had no doubt they would tear it apart before we could intervene.

  I waved at Derin to get his attention. His rifle was trained in our general direction, and as fast as the unknown killer was flying, I didn’t like his chances with a rifle shot.

  I raised my shotgun and waited as the stone-colored beast finished its turn, a long neck and open maw greeting me as it came due south in a blur. Unlike some hunters, I believe in the power of shooting as soon as your target is in range.

  Like now.

  I fired twice, the first cloud of shot shredding the left wing of the beast, sending it into a savage yaw that brought the stubby tail around to catch my second shot, which pulped the ass end with a spectacular spray of gore.

  The monster crashed skull first into the ground, sending gravel and sand flying as the wide breastbone dug a trench like a plow, stopping with a brutal crack as the chest hit a stone. Flipping end to end, the monster slid to a stop between me and the dead ogre, twitching in surface spasms that made the dark gray skin seem alive with electrical current. The mouth—a long, narrow passage with triangular teeth—snapped shut like a coffin as the round, black eyes glazed over in death. Snot bubbled out of a hole at the top of a head ridge shaped like a knife, extending backward from the graceful snout. The bat-like fingers tensed once and fell still as the creature voided its bowels onto the sand in an ammoniac spray.

  “Well that’s fucking gross,” I said.

  “Smells like fish and—um, dead fish,” Mira said with a shrug. “What is it?”

  “Damned if I know. I’m new here. Like a dinosaur, but without the long tail,” I said, looking over the winged terror. It was a hunter, all right, but unlike any animal that had been in the skies for sixty-five million years or more. “Great. Fucking dragons are back, too.”

  “Dragon?” Lasser asked. He’d joined the entire party staring down at the beast as blood seeped from the constellation of wounds from my buckshot.