Robinson Crusoe 2246: (Book 3)

by E. J. Robinson

  Pastor laughed again. Then he looked up at the three-dimensional hologram above him.

  “Let’s see. Your vitals look good. Blood pressure is a little high, but that’s to be expected. Ninety percent effacement, and the baby is in good position.”

  “You have done this before?”

  “I did many things in my youth.” Pastor walked to a machine, raised his hands, and said, “Cleanse and wrap, please.” A stream of nanobots poured out and cleaned his hands before applying a clear protective coat of gel. He walked back to Friday and touched her belly.

  “My parents were Gypsies—Romani—but we almost always called ourselves travelers. We used to travel the country, going from town to town, doing odd jobs, running the occasional scam.”

  “Scam?”

  “Uh, con games. Deceptive agreements. They were not very nice, but they taught me a lot about the world and the nature of people. Our nature was reclusive. We rarely interacted with society. We never went to school or to doctors. That is how I learned this.”

  Pastor watched the vitals as Friday went through another series of contractions.

  “Have you ever see…?” Friday said, but couldn’t finish.

  “A stillborn delivery? Yes. Among other things. But they are rare. And they won’t happen under my watch.”

  “What if my child is born sick?”

  “Then I’ll do everything I can to heal it as I healed you.”

  Friday nodded, her eyes watering. “Crusoe should be here.”

  “I know. But he’ll be back soon enough. Now, the contractions are getting close. If you want something to reduce the pain, we’ll need to use it now.”

  “No. Pain teaches us the value of life. And nothing has more value than this.”

  Pastor shook his head. “You are a remarkable woman, Friday. I hope you know that. Are you ready?”

  The birthing would take another two hours. By the time it was done, Friday would hold a healthy, nine-pound baby in her arms.

  “Congratulations,” Pastor said, exhausted and elated. “You have a healthy baby girl.”

  Friday smiled, for once oblivious to her tears.

  “Have you thought of a name?”

  Friday shook her head.

  “Perhaps we could come up with a few options before Robinson—”

  The door whisked open suddenly, and Gesta appeared with three men in tow.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Gesta said.

  “About what?” Pastor asked. “What are they doing here?”

  “Lysa wants the baby,” Gesta said.

  He nodded to the others. Pastor stepped forward to stop them only to get punched in the stomach and drop to the floor. Friday screamed and clawed at the men until one of them touched her with an object, and she went limp. The last thing she saw was her baby being taken away.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Silent Sorrow

  The vial.

  Saah had seen it around Robinson’s neck just before he rode away. The idea that this boy—this insignificant worm—could continue to take from him without reparations was beyond infuriating. Now, the farm lay in ruins. The field was littered with the carnage of his fallen warriors. Even his beloved pet guardian had been killed. But the lost that hurt most was Viktor. The man had been with him since the beginning of his crusade. He hadn’t liked him exactly—he was a terrible companion with his flippant remarks and cowardice—but he was polite and clever and had a mind for deliciously awful things. His creativity would be sorely missed.

  If there was any silver lining to Viktor’s death, it was that he had delivered everything needed to take the City of Glass. The ordinance he’d manufactured for the augmented had fortunately been stored away from the main barn. And despite the turmoil of the previous night, the surviving warriors had almost all responded to his call once things calmed down. Thirty-six of them had perished in the fire or fields, leaving ninety-two to his command.

  As he left the groves to head west once more, Saah looked back at his farmhouse and knew he would ever see it again. No matter. A little over seven hundred miles away sat his next home, and it was fit for a king. He prayed the ninety-two marching at his side would be enough to take it.

  They’d ridden for a day and a half straight, only stopping long enough to let the horses rest and graze. Robinson had managed to remove the bolt from the mute brother’s chest and cauterize the wound, but infection had set in despite their every precaution. Using the glasses and wand Pastor had given him, Robinson had sought out the only available remedies—garlic and purple coneflower—which he used to make a poultice to fight the bacteria. Even it was proving ineffective. Fever had set in the second morning. He had become lethargic.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Robinson said to the mute sister privately. “And the pace we’re keeping isn’t doing him any favors. Plus, his infection is worsening.”

  The girl gestured of tall buildings with her hands.

  Robinson shook his head. “Even if we rode day and night, it would take six days to reach it. He doesn’t have six days. He needs rest.”

  The girl grit her teeth and pointed at him.

  “I’m not a healer,” he said. She pointed at him again, then at the herbs. “I know as much as you.”

  Anger lit the girl’s face. She poked him hard in the chest and then the head. She gestured off in the direction they were headed, then cupped a hand under her breast and as if holding her swollen belly. She pointed to his heart before pointing to her brother and then her own.

  Robinson understood. Her brother was all she had. But any help Robinson could provide would only mean delaying his return. Friday was still ill. Every second he was away from her and their child was another second the virus could mutate and kill them both.

  And yet he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving more wounded in his wake. It was already a tally with too many casualties.

  “Scout,” Robinson called. The bird landed on his shoulder and chirped. “You saw Saah and his army leave the farm last night. How many hours would you estimate they are behind us?”

  Scout chirped fourteen times.

  “Are they moving at our pace or faster?”

  Scout chirped once.

  Robinson took out his glasses and said, “show me a map of this area.”

  Inside Robinson’s glasses, a holographic map appeared.

  “Expand to fifty miles.”

  The image did.

  “Expand to one hundred miles.”

  The image did.

  “Lincoln City, Nebraska. How far away are we?”

  A prompt in the glasses read: approximately sixty miles.

  Robinson slipped off the glasses.

  “Sixty miles. It’s likely to have a hospital big enough to have survived with the materials we need for a blood transfusion. Since you’re twins, matching shouldn’t be a problem. It’s out of our way, but I’m willing to try it if you are.”

  The mute sister reached out and touched his arm tenderly before nodding once.

  “Get ready then,” he said. The girl ran off. Robinson turned to Scout. “Scout, I need you plot us the easiest course to Lincoln City. No distractions. No surprises. Can you do that, girl?” Scout chirped once. “Then get going.”

  Scout took to flight.

  The ride took a day and a half. During daylight hours, Robinson used Scout to navigate their path. At night when they rested, he directed her to fly back and monitor Saah’s progression. He had no idea how fast she could fly, yet she always managed to return by morning. The reports, however, were not as welcome. Despite leading an army of close to one hundred, Saah was slowly gaining on them. Robinson knew Saah would drive his army hard. What he didn’t expect was his willingness to risk their numbers to catch them.

  Lincoln City’s hospital was in a bad state. Still, Robinson managed to find the materials capable of transfusing the mute sister’s blood into her brother. There was still risk. While Robinson had boiled all the materials first,
the inability to process the blood would mean a greater risk of adverse reactions, including sepsis. Yet within minutes of the transfusion, the mute brother’s color returned, and he even managed to eat and drink on his own.

  For a few days afterward, they made good time. Then, the mute brother’s wounds darkened again. Infection had set in too deep. There mute sister begged Robinson to perform another transfusion, but she was still weak from the first time. Even if she could survive the loss of blood, it would only buy her brother a day or two. In the end, the mute brother decided for them when he pulled the medical supplies from their pack and tossed them in the dirt.

  Later that day, Scout found a small pond near a grove of Cottonwood where Robinson and the mute sister helped her brother down and set him against one of the trees where he could look out over the water and watch the sunset. Robinson led the horses away while the siblings spoke their silent language together. The communication reminded him of Tannis and Tallis. They too had their own language. One of words, sighs, grunts, and facial expressions. Were all twins the same? He suspected so.

  When Robinson returned, he found the mute sister had built a fire. In the dimming light, her brother looked wan. Robinson was about to excuse himself again when the mute sister beckoned him over. She signaled that her brother wanted to hear Robinson.

  “You want me to talk?” Robinson asked.

  The mute brother shook his head carefully. This time, his sister touched her heart, then her lips before waggling her fingers in the air.

  Robinson understood. The mute brother wanted to hear a song. Robinson felt his throat tighten but fought back his emotions. He didn’t want the boy to mistake tears for pity.

  “We didn’t sing where I come from. Songs were illegal for most of my life.” He wondered if that had changed. “But Friday used to hum a tune when we walked. I’m not sure she was even aware of it or what it’s about. But if you like, I’ll sing it for you.”

  Robinson started slowly, his voice tentative, but as the first verse elapsed, his breath became deeper, and the melody started to flow from him. He’d lied when he said he didn’t know what the song was about. Friday had told him, and even if she hadn’t, he would have understood by the profundity of emotion that accompanied it. It was a song of loss. And of remembrance. Of those that have gone but are not forgotten. It was an ideal song for that time and place. The mute siblings must have thought so too because the one time Robinson glanced at them, both had tears in their eyes. So, he continued, repeating it again and again as the sun continued to fall. His words carried over the water and the mute sister’s sobs when her brother breathed his last.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Treachery

  Saah found the pack horse lying dead in a ditch just inside the Badlands, maggots having already laid siege to its mouth and eyes.

  The Crusoe boy is scared, Saah thought. At least with Cassa, Crusoe had taken the time to bury his body.

  Good. Let him run. This time, there will be nowhere to hide.

  Saah had pushed his army hard over the twelve days, and as a result, eight of his warriors had dropped dead along with three of their mounts. A few more teetered on the brink, but the effort had been worth it. He now stood within a short march of the City of Glass. One day more, and it would be his.

  Saah had an unselfish reason for trying to catch Crusoe before he reached the city. He wanted the first thing the inhabitants to see was the boy’s head mounted at the front of his vanguard. They had sent him after all. He knew it was true. No other reason could have convinced the boy to abandon his young lover. Maybe they’d blackmailed him or promised him riches beyond measure. It didn’t matter. What was important was that they refused to do the task themselves. That told him they were cowards. And cowards could always be defeated. So, what if Crusoe survived a little longer? Soon the city would fall and Robinson with it.

  “We will quarter here for the night,” Saah said to the last of his men. “Let my army feast on this steed before they rest.”

  “One dead horse ain’t enough to feed ’em all, Master,” one of his few living men said.

  “Then they shall have yours too. Come morning, I want their armaments ready. And pay careful attention who you give these to.” He patted two bulging saddlebags hanging on his horse. “Viktor crafted these with great care before his demise. Only my healthiest warriors shall bear them.”

  As Saah’s men set to task, he looked to the vacant sky in the distance, knowing it was illusion but admiring it all the same.

  “Today the skies glow,” Saah said to himself. “Tomorrow they shall bleed.”

  Three miles away, Robinson and the mute sister pushed their spent horses through the steppes of the pass that lead to the City of Glass. A familiar whirr echoed over the sands as a half dozen drones appeared from nowhere and fanned out in front of them.

  The mute sister was almost too exhausted to lift her head. Robinson took the vial from around his neck and held it up into the sky. After a moment, the drones parted, and Robinson pushed his horse on.

  Lysa was waiting for him at the City gates, looking the same as when he had left. He wondered if she could say the same about him.

  “Pastor said you were resilient,” Lysa said. She held out her hand. “May I?”

  “Friday first,” Robinson said. “Where is she?”

  “Inside. Along with your daughter.”

  Robinson’s world shifted off its axis.

  “My daughter?” Robinson gasped. “Is she…?”

  “A fair, healthy child, resting comfortably,” Lysa said. “Now, if you please?”

  She held out her hand again and Robinson removed the vial from his neck and handed it to her. She passed it carefully to Gesta. “Verify it’s the second strain.”

  As Gesta ran off, Lysa turned back to Robinson.

  “You are a remarkable young man. Our probability masters put the success of your task at less than five percent, and they are seldom wrong. There was a time not long ago we might have found a place for you among us if only to study you and learn from your experiences.”

  “Like you did with Pastor?” Robinson asked.

  Lysa smiled. “Oh, no. William was a failed experiment from the start. A remnant of a lesser time when the farce of social order outweighed true reason. He’s had his uses though. He delivered us you.”

  Something in her words rankled Robinson. He felt like a punchline was coming, but he hadn’t heard the joke.

  “So, now I’ve delivered what I’ve promised. I’d like to see my family now.”

  “Do you know what the true irony of the City of Glass is? Glass is fragile. It’s not meant to last forever. For two centuries, we’ve safeguarded history here as if was a precious thing to be coddled and studied. Only recently have we realized everything in nature—every civilization, every species, every forest—must be denude so the fallow earth can bring life again. This time, however, man won’t be forced to crawl from the muck from whence he came. This time, they will rise from the tabula rasa of our experiences, and they shall thrive.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Lysa smiled as if talking to a child.

  “I’m saying that you have played a pivotal role in the history to come. It’s a shame no one will be around to remember it.”

  Robinson came to a sickening realization.

  “You’re not going to destroy the virus,” he said. “You’re going to use it.”

  “It is indeed far more virulent than the first strain. Not that you would know, given how it lay dormant in your lover. But with a few modifications, its full potency will be unleashed and—unlike its flawed sibling—it will only target humans. And it will expunge them completely.”

  “But that’s genocide.”

  “When you live as long as I have, words like genocide lose their power. I watched seven billion die in the first plague. What’s a few million more to get things right?”

  Robinson didn’t notice the drones sinking in from
above until the mute sister started. Then he spun and saw a half dozen men surrounding them. The mute sister reached for her blade only to be hit by some kind of charge from the drone. Robinson raised his hands, and both were bound.

  “You can’t do this. There are people out there. Good people. Families. They can get it right this time if only you’d give them a chance!”

  “It’s choice, not chance, that determines one’s destiny. I’d tell you to remember that, but I don’t think you’ll be needing it where you’re headed.”

  Lysa nodded, and the men started to haul the pair off.

  “Wait,” Robinson said. “There’s something you should know. The man I told you about, Saah—”

  “Has followed you here. We’re aware. At this very moment, he has set up camp just outside the perimeter of the valley and will attack at dawn. When he does, he, his two men, and eighty-four of his abominations will be dealt with once and for all.”

  “It won’t be that easy. He has weapons.”

  “Sticks and stones before the cavalry.”

  “You don’t know him like I do,” Robinson shouted as he was pulled away. “The man is cunning! He’ll have a plan!”

  “As will we.”

  They were taken to a holding area, a small windowless room behind an energy screen. Robinson reached to help the girl up when she was thrown in behind him.

  “Let me,” a voice said. Pastor emerged from the shadows. Robinson glared at him as they helped her to a bunk.

  “Was it a drone?” Pastor asked. Robinson nodded. “Fifty thousand volts. I’ve felt it once myself. Not a thing I’d like to repeat. She’ll be all right.”

  “You lied to me,” Robinson said.

  Pastor looked as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. He saw the anger in Robinson’s eyes. It was the hurt that troubled him worse.

  “I did what I had to do to keep you safe.”

  “Does this look safe to you?”

  “Yes. You’re both alive after all.”

  “For now. You have no idea what we went through out there. What she went through. We found her brother. He was one of Saah’s men.”