Hothouse

by Stephanie Mylchreest

  My mother steps out from behind a small hut and strides quickly towards us. She stops a couple of cubits away and stares at us. It’s the first time I’ve been this close to her since I allowed Apollo to kill Ada. We stare at each other for a moment, before a Rich eases the rising tension. He closes the gap to her and envelopes her in a hug.

  They pull apart and mother wipes her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is heavy with emotion. “Chris,” she says. “I’m so glad that you are okay.” I wrap my arms around both of them. There’s so much to say but we can’t say anything at all.

  Philip grabs me next, his broad arms wrapping around me. He has tears in his eyes as he kisses me on the forehead. “I’m so glad we managed to rescue you all, son,” he says to me. “You and Abigail and Rich. I knew you’d be alright because you were together.” He hugs me again.

  When Patrick shakes my hand, there’s a coolness that wasn’t there before. I’m contemplating saying something to him when I notice Birch standing uncomfortably behind the group.

  “This is Birch,” I say, taking her by the hand and pulling her next to me. I put my arm over her shoulder and she doesn’t flinch away. Instead, she smiles at me gratefully as I introduce everyone in the group.

  “Did you set off that landslide?” Birch asks after we finish the introductions.

  “It was my idea,” says Millie proudly. She has her arm around Delphine’s shoulder and hugs her tightly. “The forest people gave us the gunpowder. It’s fascinating, it’s almost identical to the gunpowder we used on Martha’s Vineyard. They mix sulfur, charcoal and guano from the seabirds, but they form much smaller balls when they dry it, so it’s more powerful.”

  Delphine is listening intently, ever the enquiring mind. She writes quickly and passes Millie a note.

  Do the forest people get their sulfur from trading with the gangs too?

  Millie reads the note out loud and shrugs. “I’m not sure, I never asked them.”

  “They would never trade with the gangs,” says Birch shyly. “We have our own trading network that stretches all the way down to Utah. We have our own sources of sulfur, plus anything else we need.”

  “Are you one of the forest people too?” asks Philip.

  “We are one, but many. We don’t call ourselves the forest people. But, yes, my clan is related to those you call the forest people.”

  “The station folk actually offered us some explosives,” says Millie. “But we weren’t comfortable using them...” Millie’s voice trails off when she sees my face and she gives me a hard look.

  I feel someone slip an arm through mine.

  “I need to bring you to Commander Rothman,” says my mother. She pats my arm gently and looks overwhelmingly sad.

  I wonder for a surreal moment if she is leading me to my death. I skim my hand over my gun and catch Rich’s eye. He holds my gaze but gives me no signal that he understands the risk facing us. I’m nervous. We need to be ready.

  We walk through the camp as a group. Closest to the river we see small-scale agriculture. Pumpkin, carrot, corn and other vegetables grow in the irrigated soil.

  The settlement is long and winds away from the river. Small huts are built in neat rows that we pass as we walk deeper into the camp. The forest people and those from the station are mixing comfortably with one another. Everywhere I look, people are engaged in meaningful tasks; kneading dough and baking loaves in large clay ovens built underground and heated with hot coals; washing clothes in large wooden barrels; preparing vegetables for the evening meal.

  But scattered around the camp are the obvious signs of people from another place, people who do not belong here. Food wrappers from the pods are in a neat pile next to one of the huts. Another hut has a rope strung out the front with a line of unfamiliar black garments hanging to dry in the warm spring afternoon.

  A pack, almost identical to the one owned by Ada—the pack that responded to her hand prints only—lies discarded on the ground under a broad tree. A young red-haired boy lies next to it in the soft peaty ground. He’s holding a silver prism and looks to be casually reading.

  “This way,” says my mother. She pauses in front of a large hut. The entire hut, including the door, is made of woven reeds. Mother pushes open the door and steps inside. She holds it open for me until I step forward and catch it with my own hand. My feet pause at the door as my eyes adjust to the relative darkness within.

  The dirt floor has been swept clean and on the floor, around the edges of the room, are small mats made from woven reeds. There are about ten people sitting cross-legged on the mats. There are two windows covered with a light cloth that filters the sunlight. My eyes roam from one side of the room to the other, carefully taking in all the details. I realize there is no exit other than the one I’m about to walk through.

  I step into the hut and stand next to my mother. The others shuffle in beside me. The people on the mats stare at us. I look for Rich but when I find him, he doesn’t meet my eye. My heart is beating fast in my chest and I lightly touch the gun with my hand once more.

  A person—a red-haired woman—stands and takes a step towards us. The moment she gets to her feet, I know it’s Commander Rothman. I pull the gun from my holster and point it directly at her chest.

  There is a scream and several gasps beside me.

  I ignore the noise and remain singularly focused on Commander Rothman.

  “Don’t move,” I say to her. “I’m going to shoot you. I won’t let you bring your weapons of mass destruction into our home. You don’t belong here. None of you belong here. You need to go back where you came from.”

  Her brilliant red hair seems to glow even in the dim light. She looks at me directly, her stare unwavering.

  “I’m afraid that’s rather impossible. You see, Chris, our home is gone. There’s no going back.”

  Commander Rothman seems calm despite the weapon mere cubits from her face.

  “Chris,” pleads my mother. “Please, put the gun down. They aren’t who you think they are. You’re making a huge mistake.”

  “I don’t care what happens to me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I just need for this to be done.”

  “So this,” interjects a man’s voice from the floor behind Commander Rothman. His voice has the same unusual cadence as Ada. “This is the young man who shot our daughter with a quarrel and held her while some savage stabbed her?”

  “Yes,” says Commander Rothman, never taking her eyes off me. “Yes Ben. This is the one. That’s right isn’t it, Ellie?”

  My mother’s reply sucks the anger right from within me.

  “That’s right, Mary.”

  Even though I’m holding the gun, I suddenly feel as though I’m the one on trial.

  Chapter Eight

  When Mary steps closer to me I’m unsure what to do. I tighten my grip on the gun and take aim at her head. I can see the slight tremor in my hand as the gun shakes. Someone is crying behind me.

  This is it, I think to myself. As soon as I pull the trigger I’m as good as dead. Allies of the station surround me. There’s no army, no Washington to help me. I steady my hand and speak slowly. “I’m going to pull the trigger. I know who you are and your plans. I won’t let you destroy what’s left on Earth in your desperate grab for power.”

  To my surprise, Mary looks out the window and starts talking. She has a strange, faraway expression on her face. It’s like she’s re-living another lifetime. Her voice draws me in.

  “Ada was a hero,” she says. “She was willing to give up her life to save everyone on board the station. If it were not for her, none of us would be standing here alive. We would all be dead, suffocated up in the station.”

  Mary seems oblivious to the danger she’s in. She steps closer to me. Everyone around us is deathly quiet, watching us. I lower the gun to her chest once more. I want to pull the trigger but my hand betrays me.

  “I know all about you, Chris. I know how proud your mother is of you and Rich for leaving th
e island, for starting a revolution, no matter how small. I know about your father, and I’m sorry.”

  She steps closer.

  “There are still people on your island, Chris. Innocent people who will die when the glacial lakes breach.”

  She can reach out and touch me now and she does, she puts her arm out and wraps her hand around mine, around the gun. She draws her body in so the gun is pressed hard against her abdomen. Her pale hand grips mine tightly, her knuckles white.

  “Shoot me,” she says in a voice so quiet, I’m not sure if it was said at all.

  We stare at each other and her eyes are deep pits of sorrow into which I fear myself sinking. The air in the hut is thick with tension. Inside there’s not so much as the faintest drawing of breath. But outside, life continues to bustle and grind. A bird calls out loudly and the noise breaks the spell. I feel myself pulled back to the surface, out of the pit, towards salvation.

  Birch appears beside us and places a hand on each of our shoulders. I startle at her touch and turn to face her. “Chris,” she urges. “Come outside with me.”

  The people inside the hut come back to life with her words. The group collectively exhales, people are moving again. My gun is still touching Commander Rothman; she continues to stare at me with hollow eyes. But Birch works the gun gently out of my hand and guides me out of the hut.

  The others stare at me as we move past them, but I don’t lower my gaze. Birch pushes open the woven reed door and leads me outside. “Let’s find somewhere quiet,” she says to me.

  She links one arm through mine. She holds my gun in her other hand and scans the surrounding area. The place is teeming with life. “Towards the back of the camp seems quiet. Come on, let’s sit down there for a bit.”

  I nod my head. The last few moments inside the hut feel like some kind of surreal dream.

  “That was intense,” Birch says to me once we are sitting on the ground leaning against the last hut in the long row of huts. We are far from the river here and can see the back perimeter fence and the lush canopy beyond. A group of children run past, some from the station and the rest from the forest.

  We sit for a few moments in silence. “I couldn’t do it,” I finally tell her. “I couldn’t kill Commander Rothman while she stared at me like that and they were talking about Ada.”

  Birch nods her head. “Killing another human, it’s just not right.” She pauses.

  “They want to kill many more than just one. They aren’t who we think they are.” I pick up a handful of dirt warmed by the sun and let it fall slowly between my fingers.

  “I’m not so sure, Chris.”

  “I’ve seen the weapons they have,” I reply. “Trust me. I’ve seen the horrific destruction they could cause. Washington showed me things I will never forget. Humans are capable of so much evil.”

  Birch looks at me intently and then looks slowly around the camp. Her message is clear. People are also capable of good. Everywhere I look, people are peacefully coexisting despite their differences.

  Birch takes my hand. Her touch is gentle and her voice is soft. “My people also have weapons. And not just guns and arrows. We have areas up north that no one is permitted to visit. The thawing ice revealed invisible biological weapons in long frozen carcasses that could kill everyone on the planet, if we wanted to use them in that way.”

  Her words hang in the air. I mull them over. The camp certainly seems peaceful. But if she’s right, if the station presents no threat, the implications of my actions are too much to bear.

  “I need to talk to her again,” I say, pushing myself up roughly. I hear Birch call my name but I don’t turn back and instead run to the hut and push the door open with my open hand. I tumble into the room and strong arms grab me before I have time for my eyes to adjust. I’m held tightly by both of my arms. It’s Philip and Rich.

  “I’m sorry, brother,” says Rich quietly.

  “Commander Rothman,” I say. My anger has disappeared, replaced by desperation for my own salvation. “They showed me things. Images of the weapons you are intending to use.”

  “Yes, we have a full cache of weapons we brought back to Earth with us. We didn’t bring everything. We didn’t bring the nukes.”

  “So Washington was right!” I exclaim loudly.

  At the mention of Washington, the people against the far wall burst into an angry conversation.

  “Quiet, please,” says Commander Rothman. She closes the gap between us until she is only about a cubit away. She waits for the people behind her to quieten before speaking to me in a low, intimate voice.

  “I know you went with Ada to Washington. Thank you for helping her. I also know she left you there in order for her to escape. I think that’s partly why you turned on her.” I close by eyes tightly. I don’t want to see Ada’s fallen, bloodied body lying on the forest floor, but the image comes regardless.

  “Don’t be so quick to trust Washington,” Commander Rothman says to me. “They left us for dead. Almost three hundred of us were left up there on the station. We have children, babies.”

  She rocks back on her feet and pulls her red hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. She ties it quickly before continuing.

  “We did what was required of us. We protected the Collection for centuries, waiting for the right time to come back to Earth. And Washington deliberately ignored our pleas for help when our fuel ran low. They left us to die up there. We never wanted to kill anyone. We only wanted to leave the station because to stay would mean certain death.”

  “Why would they lie to me?” I ask, staring at the ground.

  “I’m not entirely sure but we have our suspicions,” she replies.

  “Tell him,” says an older man from the station. His face is familiar to me.

  “Do you know what crude oil is?” asks Commander Rothman.

  I shake my head.

  “It’s a source of fuel that can be converted into energy. It’s a dirty fuel, it’s no good for the planet, but it can be used to run motors and generate electricity. After the Earth started to heat up and the ice melted, things got pretty bad on Earth. The United States government moved their petroleum stockpiles to a secret location and have preserved them ever since.” She pauses.

  “What is the United States government?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “Washington,” she replies. Her eyes bore in to me.

  “Is that how the Washingtonians have lights and fast boats?” asks Rich.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Why do some gangs have those things too?” asks Abigail. I strain to see her. She’s sitting to my left on one of the mats, her hand in Delphine’s. Delphine catches my eye and smiles encouragingly.

  “They do trades with Washington,” says Millie. “They trade things, weapons and the like, and they receive fuel and some of Washington’s tech in exchange.”

  Everyone is nodding now as though this part of the puzzle has started to make sense.

  “I’ve heard whispering about the lights and tech that Washington has. If they are trying to keep control of everything, they aren’t doing a particularly good job,” continues Millie. “How does leaving you up in the station help them?”

  “That’s right,” I say. My voice is too loud and I continue in a more subdued tone. “If Washington are giving fuel and tech to the gangs, how does that explain why they wanted you to die up there? People outside of Washington already know some of what you know. It doesn’t make sense to commit mass murder because you might show someone the Collection.”

  “We don’t think it is about the Collection,” says Commander Rothman. “We are the only other people who know the location of the stockpile of petroleum. If we made it down, they might have to share it with us, or perhaps they worried we would let others—like the gangs—know where the fuel is.”

  “What about the weapons?” I ask. I am deflating with every moment that passes. It’s becoming more and more obvious that the Washingtonians manipulat
ed me and Ada was the casualty.

  “We have weapons, it’s true. We have access to some terrible things. But we only have them for defense. We knew we were entering hostile territory. We want to keep ourselves safe. We wouldn’t use them on anyone offensively.”

  “Can you let go of me?” I ask Rich and Philip. Philip defers to Commander Rothman who nods. They release me and I fall to my knees. I’m alone in the center of the room, a pariah. No one comes to me. All eyes in the room are bearing down on me.

  Finally, Commander Rothman steps closer. She kneels next to me and takes my hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to her. I’m staring at the dusty ground. “I made a terrible mistake.”

  “Chris, there is something you need to see,” she replies. She applies pressure to my arm, urging me up. I get to my feet and we turn to the door. Everyone parts to let us through. Commander Rothman and me walk to the door and step out into the sunshine. I can sense the others moving behind me.

  I spot Birch a chain away. She’s standing under a leafy tree with her hands on her hips. She watches Commander Rothman and me as we walk to a neighboring hut. The commander pauses outside the hut. My heart is hammering in my chest as she pushes the door open.

  Inside I can make out a low bed. There is a machine next to the bed with lights that flash and something that seems to pump air. There’s a whirring and sucking sound that repeats itself.

  On the bed is a body covered in a white sheet. I walk into the room and Commander Rothman waits at the door. I take another step closer and in an instant realize what is lying on the bed.

  It’s Ada’s body.

  I get closer and fall to my knees beside her. Her mouse-brown hair is splayed on the white pillow. Her face is deathly pale. Why is her body here? Perhaps they are preparing it for burial? I can’t be sure. None of it makes any sense.

  I bow my head and rest it on the edge of the bed. Then, the porcelain hand beside me twitches and I jump back violently.

  I’m several cubits from the bed staring at Ada. My hands are shaking and my mouth open. “Is she alive?” I whisper.

  Commander Rothman walks to Ada’s bedside and takes her hand. She smiles at her daughter and then turns to me.