Hothouse

by Stephanie Mylchreest

  “Yes, she is alive. The forest people and your mother somehow, miraculously, kept her clinging to a thin thread of life until we landed on Earth and were able to help her. We didn’t know if she would make it for several days. If we had not returned to Earth, she would have died. We had the skills and expertize to help her.”

  The commander brings Ada’s hand to her lips and kisses it tenderly. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and her voice becomes throaty and heavy with emotion. “My darling girl. You’re such a fighter.”

  “Everyone underestimated her,” I find myself saying. “The Washingtonians and Yanx—none of them believed that Ada would escape Washington and transmit the launch codes to you. She fought for you and for everyone up there from the moment she set foot on Earth.”

  “I know,” replies the commander.

  “Will she be okay?” I ask in a quiet voice. My eyes flick to Ada’s face and a thousand memories of her flash in my mind. We’ve been through so much in the short time I’ve known her.

  “Yes, our doctors think she is going to make a full recovery.”

  We both stare at one another. Ada lies still, her eyes shut, on the bed behind the commander.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened to her,” I say. I want to say more but the words don’t come.

  Commander Rothman smiles grimly at me. “I forgive you. Ada is a hero. She did exactly what she was supposed to do. We made it here alive. We can find the fuel stocks and set up a new life for us here on Earth.” The commander has tears running down her cheeks now. “What happened is as much my fault as it is yours. She should never have been on that capsule at all.”

  We lapse into silence. Commander Rothman turns back to Ada. “I’ll leave you with her,” I say quietly.

  The commander nods and I turn and walk out of the room. The others are clustered outside the first hut, watching me. My mother waves to me. She wants me to join them but I wheel around and head away from them all.

  I need some space to process the fact that Ada is still alive. I need space to contemplate everything that’s been said, everything that I have done.

  I’m wandering through the camp when Birch catches up to me. I’m glad to see her. She’s one of the few here who doesn’t know all of my terrible deeds.

  She takes my hand, and it feels good to curl my fingers around hers.

  “You’re not alone, Chris,” she says quietly.

  “Thank you Birch,” I reply.

  “Do you want to talk about anything? Or everything? I’m here, and I see your pain. I’m listening.”

  Silence follows her words. I can’t articulate the complex emotions running through me.

  “Not yet,” I reply eventually. I force a smile and squeeze her hand. “Let’s just pretend we are normal, everyday people going about our normal lives.”

  “Sounds good,” she replies.

  We walk in companionable silence while I push the black thoughts deeper inside of me. “This is a nice camp,” says Birch.

  I’m grateful for the small talk and nod, looking around at the hundred or so huts lined up through the camp. “These woven reed huts are surprisingly sturdy,” she continues.

  There’s an intriguing sewage-gas setup next to one of the huts. I bury the last of my melancholy and pause to examine it. “This is similar to the sewage-gas plants we have on the island,” I say.

  Birch looks at me with a bemused expression on her face as I crack open the tank. “Oh look, this is the digester tank and they have the gas collector floating directly on the slurry. I meant to try this back at home.”

  “We use a similar technology in the mountains,” she tells me.

  “Do you use these pipes, too?” I ask her, pointing to the gas pipeline constructed from bamboo segments and connected by leather joints. It seems to be sealed with some kind of pine resin. The pipeline runs directly into the hut.

  “Yes, we do,” she replies.

  “We don’t use these on the island, but it’s a great idea,” I say to her.

  We continue our walk through the vegetable gardens and find a shady spot beside the bamboo fence. The river rushes along behind us. The constant burbling intermingled with the hive of ordinary activities from the camp is soothing.

  “I almost killed Commander Rothman’s daughter,” I say, surprising myself. “I thought she was dead. I thought I was practically her murderer. But she somehow survived. That’s what the commander was showing me in that hut.

  “I figured out something like that had happened,” she says sadly.

  “The guilt has been bearing on me for days. I’m so happy she’s going to be okay,” I muse, staring up at the blue sky.

  “You’re not a bad person though. I can tell that about you. You’re doing your best.”

  “I really am. It’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

  “Do you still think the people from the station mean us and others on Earth harm?”

  “I’m pretty sure that they don’t mean to hurt anyone with their weapons,” I reply.

  “Washington sound evil,” she says after a beat.

  I think about the Washingtonians I’ve got to know. “They aren’t all bad. Michelle was nice. I think she meant well.”

  Birch nods her head and takes my hand again. It’s easy being with her.

  “I am trying to understand what motivated Washington when they told me the station would use deadly force. Why did they really ignore the station when they requested the launch codes to return to Earth? Surely it can’t be as simple as wanting to protect their fuel stocks.”

  “I have the feeling it might be that simple.” She smiles at me and squeezes my hand and it all feels so normal.

  We could almost be any other young man and woman, enjoying each other’s company by the river on a warm spring day. Except for the weapons of mass destruction, the fuel stocks that Washington wants to protect, and—of course—the miraculous resurrection of Ada Rothman.

  Ada is alive.

  Chapter Nine

  Taking control of the petroleum stocks is all anyone can talk about. We’ve been here for two days now and the fervor over the fuel stocks is intense. The forest people are the only ones who seem disinterested, although they have unwavering support for the people from the station.

  Kahri—the woman from the forest who saved me after I crossed the Hudson all those days ago—told us that her ancestors had passed on stories of the station. A golden age for humanity is expected on the station’s return to Earth. It’s because of these stories that the forest people pledged their full support to Commander Rothman.

  In spite of my unfortunate history with Ada, the forest people welcomed us warmly. They provided us with empty huts that were furnished with everything we need. There are low beds and woven mats for sitting, and the hut I share with Rich has the same ingenious sewage-gas plant with a pipe directly to the front of the hut for cooking. They give us full access to their food and water stores.

  We have gathered outside our hut and Birch is showing us how to prepare the traditional flat bread her people enjoy. Abigail and Delphine are there and Rich too. I am enjoying the peaceful interlude at the camp. It’s the first time in a while that I haven’t had anything to do or anywhere to be, or anyone to hunt or escape from.

  “Have you been to this place before?” asks Rich, his hands sticky with flour and water.

  “You mean this camp?” asks Birch. Rich nods. “No, my home is much further north in the mountains,” she says. “We tend to stay in our own area. We don’t have much cause to travel. It’s safer being in the places we are familiar with.”

  “Will you be returning home soon?” asks Abigail.

  Birch and I exchange looks that I’m sure don’t go unnoticed by the others.

  “I was thinking of coming with you,” she says, brushing her pale brown hair off her face with her arm. Her hands are caked with dough. “I sent a message to my parents that I am okay. After my sister...” Birch’s face crumples, and she takes a m
oment to compose herself. “It would be too painful to return home without her,” she finally finishes.

  Abigail reaches for Birch but her hands are similarly floured and sticky. In the end they both laugh and fold into a brief, messy hug.

  “How did you pass a message to them?” asks Abigail.

  “One of the forest people was heading north to warn the clans about the increased activity in the area, and to continue to spread news of the stations return. It was easy enough to arrange for the message to be sent.”

  Birch has been one delightful surprise in all of this. I never expected to meet someone like her. She’s charming, sweet and selfless but also strong and fearless. They did terrible things to her at Yanx’s camp and her wounds are deep, especially after the death of her sister. But I want her all the same.

  Birch and I exchange a fleeting glance and continue with our bread making.

  “Where’s Millie,” I ask casually. Delphine pulls out the small electronic tablet given to her by the commander. She wipes her hands carefully and taps out a message. The commander told her she would get faster and soon it would become more natural than writing by hand, but Delphine still seems uncomfortable with the change.

  I was there when the commander handed Delphine the tablet. She had asked, “Were you born deaf, Delphine?”

  Delphine accepted the tablet and typed her first message.

  Yes, I was.

  “I don’t want to promise you anything, but we have doctors and technology that should be able to help you heal. We might be able to make you hear.” The commander said the last part with a flourish.

  Later, Delphine told me: But I don’t want to be any different. I’m not disabled. I’m me. I’m happy with who I am.

  Now, Delphine catches my eye with a small smile and passes me the tablet.

  Millie is with Mary and your mother. They are plotting their route to the fuel stocks.

  “Do you know what their plan is?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. Delphine looks at me for a long moment and I turn back to my dough, kneading it firmly as I wait for an answer. I hear a faint tapping, and when it stops Delphine proffers me the tablet.

  They are going to seize control of the fuel from Washington.

  The words on the tablet glare at me. I weigh up my words carefully, conscious of the others watching me. “How do you feel about that?” I finally ask Delphine.

  She starts to tap out words again.

  I think it’s a mistake. But Mary thinks they have no future without an energy source.

  “What do the rest of you think about the plan to take the fuel?” I ask. I feel as though I need to tread carefully. I’m not entirely sure where the others stand.

  “Roll the dough into fist-sized pieces,” says Birch in a low voice to Abigail. I watch them and begin to emulate them, making small round balls that I place in a line on the table. The smell of the wheat flour and the ritual of bread making is comforting.

  We continue with our bread making for a few moments. “Maybe the commander’s time on the station when they were running out of fuel is affecting her,” says Rich thoughtfully. “She’s lived in a state of fear of her essential resources running out. It would be hard to shake that feeling.”

  “But she doesn’t need fuel to breathe or stay alive now,” says Birch. “Look at all of us. We’ve all lived our entire lives without access to fuel. Why do we need it now?” She takes a smooth wooden roller and rolls the balls flat.

  “I think we all need to be very careful about what we say and do, after everything that has happened,” says Abigail. She tucks a strand of curly black hair behind her ear, wiping flour on her face in the process.

  We lapse into an uncomfortable silence. I search their faces. I know we are all thinking about Ada. I place my wooden roller on the table and get up. “I’m going to check on Ada. I’ll be back,” I say.

  “Want company?” asks Abigail. I shake my head. She gets it; she’s known me the longest out of anyone here, even my own brother.

  I stride through the camp up to the hospital, as the woven reed hut has come to be known. I pause at the door but can’t hear anyone else inside. I push the door open carefully and step into the dim room.

  Ada is lying on the bed, covered in a white sheet. The machine monitoring her breathing and heartbeat is blinking and whirring. I walk slowly and silently up to her bed. She looks so young and peaceful with her eyes closed.

  “I’m so sorry, Ada,” I whisper.

  Ada’s eyes blink open at the sound of my voice and I step back involuntarily. She stares at me. It’s the first time I have seen her with her eyes open since we arrived. I open my mouth to say something and then close it again.

  She continues to stare at me intensely.

  “Hello,” I finally say. My palms are sweaty and my face feels hot.

  There’s no sound but that of the machine next to her, whirring away. Then a bird sings tunefully from outside and Ada tears her gaze away from me. When she looks back, she has tears in her eyes.

  “Where am I?” she asks. “How did I get here?”

  There’s so much to say but I’m not sure I am the right person to say it. I take a step closer and crouch by her bed. I never thought I would be face to face once again with the girl who fell from the sky. I feel myself grinning in spite of myself.

  “I’m so glad you are okay,” I say to her honestly. “Let me go and get your mother and father.”

  “They are here?” Ada’s tears spill down her cheek as she begins to sob. My voice catches in my throat.

  “Just wait a moment. I’ll be back,” I say.

  Run quickly to the hut that has been used by Commander Rothman as the strategic command post. I push open the door without knocking and a room full of faces all turn to look at me expectantly.

  “It’s Ada,” I say. “She’s awake.”

  The commander freezes for a moment before putting down her tablet and pushing past me wordlessly. Her husband Ben follows closely behind. Millie’s face finds mine, and then I see Carl—my childhood nemesis from Martha’s Vineyard—but I don’t see my mother.

  I look around the room. There are maps projected on a whiteboard at the back of the room and other boards with hand-written notes. I don’t want to be in this space, particularly with Carl, so I raise my hand to say hello to Millie—who regards me coolly—before heading back outside.

  I walk towards the river, my hands still sticky with dough and open the bamboo gate that leads to the river. I marvel from the outside how well hidden the entrance to the camp is. Although, while the water running nearby does well to drown out some noises of the people hidden inside, if anyone were to stumble upon the plateau looking for us, we would be easy to find.

  I rinse my hands in the cool water, watching the small pieces of dough float away down the stream. Once my hands are clean, I scoop up handfuls of water and drink thirstily. I’m stretching out on a large flat stone when my mother appears.

  “Hi Chris,” she says, sitting beside me on the stone. The sunlight filters through the trees overhead. The days have been getting warmer. The hot, humid summer will be upon us soon.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, looking at the leather pouch that she has stuffed with plants.

  “I’ve been collecting plants in the forest. I want to prepare some tinctures before we leave.”

  “You didn’t invite me,” I say. I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to come. I don’t remember the last time she went foraging for supplies without me.

  “I needed some time alone. I know you can relate to that,” she replies.

  “I thought the station people had all kinds of medicines.” My voice has a harder edge than I intended.

  Mother looks out at the river when she replies. “They do. They have a stock of medical supplies and so much marvelous information about diseases and infections, bacteria and viruses.”

  “So why are you foraging?”

  “Not all of our medicines and ways of healing
are obsolete or substandard,” she replies.

  I pick up a stone and throw it into the water. There’s a small splash, and it sinks to the bottom. “Ada is awake,” I tell her.

  “Really? That’s wonderful. I must go and check on her and see how Mary and Ben are. She stands up to go.

  “When is everyone leaving for the attack on the fuel?” I say quickly.

  “It’s not an attack, Chris. We all leave tomorrow. It’s a half-day hike to the petroleum stockpile. We are going to move quickly because Washington will be expecting us. We want to secure the fuel before Washington increases security.” She looks towards the camp and then back to me.

  “We?”

  “Yes, Chris. I am part of their team, as are you if you’ll join us.”

  “I still feel uneasy about all of this,” I say.

  She sighs and sits back down.

  “They said they didn’t plan to use the weapons offensively. Isn’t that exactly what they are doing now? Plus, it makes no sense to me to be fighting over a dirty source of fuel that we know is bad for the Earth, and that was at the heart of the flooding.”

  “It’s only short term,” she replies. “There are no other options. We need the fuel to build more sustainable models of energy production. They aren’t the villains, Chris. I thought you were no longer suspicious of the people from the station.”

  “The forest people seem perfectly happy without petroleum,” I reply obstinately.

  Mother shrugs. It’s a futile argument for us to have because neither of us really cares about the fuel stocks. I know my mother is primarily motivated by her thirst for medical knowledge. She doesn’t care about whether we have fuel or not, but she’s committed herself to these people.

  A thought suddenly strikes me. “Are you with the people from the station because of what I did to Ada?”

  Her face betrays her as she says, “Of course not.” But she suddenly can’t meet my eye.

  There’s a creak as the hidden gate to the camp opens. Ben, Ada’s father, is on the other side. He stands in the empty space appraising us.