Botanicaust

by Linsey, Tam

  Trying the card again, Levi breathed a sigh of relief as the red light toggled to green and the door clicked. He twisted the knob and pushed. Inside, the scent of chemicals and evergreen burned his eyes. The room was empty. Another door across the way had a lock with a red light. Levi didn’t hesitate. He yanked the key from the pad and rushed to the next door, swinging it open so hard it slammed against the wall.

  An arm’s length away, a third doorway didn’t have a lock. Thrusting open the door, Levi threw an arm over his eyes at the sudden brilliance, then blinked to clear his tearful vision. His heart stopped at the sight before him. Green bodies sprouted tubes and wires like grotesque vines.

  “Tula!” He rushed to her side. Was this the treatment she’d been seeking? It looked beyond painful. Through slitted lids, all that showed were the whites of her eyes, and her mouth stretched in a rictus of pain. He put his hands on her face, trying to get her to look at him. Her skin burned with the heat of a hundred fevers. None of the numbers or words on the screens meant anything.

  He jerked the restraints free. Her muscles spasmed and she nearly fell off the table. He caught her in his arms and settled her to the floor. In the other room, he heard arguing, but no one appeared at the door. Tula’s scalp diodes slid off easy enough. The IV lines in her arms were trickier, but he loosed her from them, as well.

  “Tula, are you awake?”

  She didn’t respond. Her shuddering and twitching reminded him of caring for her at the lake, before he knew what sun and plants did to her. These lights must be causing a reaction in her body. And not a good one. She needed shelter.

  He pulled the knife from his pack and bashed the handle against the overhead bulb. But light still flooded the room from the other fixtures. What about these other poor people? He moved between the gurneys, smashing bulbs, one after another, plummeting the room into darkness except for the blinking lights on the monitors.

  He hurried to release the others’ restraints. Never in his life had he imagined he would be aiding the escape of abominations. But he was no longer sure the color of someone’s skin meant anything.

  Without warning, the monitor lights went out, along with every other device in the room. From the open door, only blackness.

  “Levi.” Dr. Kaneka’s voice called from the outer room, not through the speaker system.

  Scrounging in his pack, Levi located the flame rod and clicked it to life. Skirting the other beds, he found Tula’s prone figure and squatted. “Tula, can you hear me? Please, wake up.” One of the other Blattvolk groaned and thrashed.

  He had no idea what they’d been doing to her, but this could not be the medicine she’d expected. He had to get her out of here. Away from these Fosselites. He could not leave her to this. Lifting her over his shoulder, he strode to the door. Dr. Kaneka stood waiting, wielding a weak flashlight. Behind him, another man held a gun at the ready.

  Levi hesitated. “Let us by.” Farther back, shadows of more people stood in the corridor.

  Dr. Kaneka pushed up his glasses and shone the flashlight directly into Levi’s eyes. “No.”

  “I mean it.” Feeling sick to his stomach, Levi realized if he wanted to escape this place, if he wanted to save Tula, he’d have to use force. But how could he fight a man with a gun? Levi moved a step forward.

  The armed man raised the weapon to aim it directly at Levi. Dr. Kaneka barked at the man. Something about a Haldanian. The man skewed his gun to one side. They want Tula alive. Doubt washed over Levi. Maybe Tula did want whatever they were doing to her.

  A loud click sounded as emergency lights came on. The doctor’s eyes widened in horror. He stepped back, hands up to defend himself. Of the doctor’s frantic words, Levi picked out, “… Haldanians … free!”

  A glance over his shoulder revealed the other Blattvolk stumbling through the antechamber. People in the hallway erupted into shrieks of terror. Dr. Kaneka shouted what Levi thought must be orders no one heeded. The man with the gun swung the muzzle wildly, unsure what to do, but not firing.

  Pulse thundering, Levi sprinted past the doctor. A moment of regret washed him as he spotted Rosalee’s inert form slumped on the hall floor. Of Michael, there was no sign. The crowd in the corridor consisted of Fosselite children. They squealed and scrambled over each other, out of Levi’s way. Behind him, Dr. Kaneka screamed orders.

  The rest of the hall lay empty before him. Dousing the flame rod, he hurried back to the room where he’d found Michael crying. Without hesitation, he continued in the same direction and hoped it led him to the massive entrance hall. When he came to a branch in the corridor, he paused, out of breath and at a loss. Once again the siren resumed its wail. Along one hall, someone poked their head out a door, and then slammed it shut.

  Levi chose the other hall. His legs burned with the extra weight of Tula over his shoulder. The residual sting of the blister across his back made him grit his teeth, but he pressed on. Nothing looked familiar. The hall ended in metal double doors with a lock system. Levi slammed against the handles. He’d left the card in the slot in the other room.

  Lumbering back the way he’d come, he prayed silently for God to intervene. To save them both from this place. Pursuing footsteps slapped the concrete as he reached the branch in the hallway. He shot a glance behind him and saw Dr. Kaneka with the guard approaching at a dead run. Turning down the second hall, Levi pounded the floor as fast as he could. The unencumbered pair edged toward him. A gunshot echoed off the white walls and Dr. Kaneka shouted in alarm.

  Levi didn’t look back.

  By the time he reached the antechamber and the doors to the bunker, his legs trembled with exhaustion. One step at a time. The recycled air burned his lungs. As he descended the stairs, he kept one hand against the wall for balance. His vision swam with the beating of his heart. Tula’s body resisted the descent. Confused, he twisted to see someone gripping her arms. His heart threatened to explode. Pivoting to jerk her free, he lost his balance and tumbled to the bottom of the steps, landing painfully on his side. Tula flew from his grasp to crumple in a heap several feet away.

  Rolling, he saw Dr. Kaneka holding a gun pointed directly at him. The man snarled something, his hands trembling in fury. No sign of the guard. A bullet ricocheted off the concrete to Levi’s left. Flinching, Levi didn’t wait for another shot. Arms outstretched, he jack knifed up the steps to place himself between Tula and the bullets. Kaneka cried out in alarm and stumbled two steps back, missing the step on the other landing. He pin-wheeled backward, swearing. Another shot pinged off the ceiling. His cursing ceased with a sickening crunch as his head hit the pavement at the bottom.

  Time stopped.

  Blood spread across the pale concrete under the doctor’s head into a pool more black than red in the dim light. His slippered feet twitched. In horror, Levi watched the light fade from the man’s upward staring eyes. “Lord, have mercy.” He didn’t know if he asked for himself or the man he’d killed.

  I killed a man.

  Numb, he returned to Tula. She was awake, but not coherent. He helped her to her feet and stumbled them toward the massive door at the entrance of the cavern. Get her out of here. Her fevered skin felt like a branding iron.

  A door slammed. Levi spared a glance back and saw Michael at the top of the steps. The giant looked down at the prone body of Dr. Kaneka and made a strange noise before lurching down the steps and crouching by the dead doctor. Again, horror at his own actions filled Levi. The doctor had been a monster, but judgment belonged to the Lord. Killing Dr. Kaneka made Levi no better than the Fosselites.

  He clenched his jaw and turned back toward the exit. Now was not the time for self-recrimination.

  They reached the giant door and he lowered Tula to slump against a granite wall. He worked the locking bolts on the portal, then pushed against the metal with all his might. The door would not budge.

  “Lord, help me.” He strained again. Three men had greeted them when Levi arrived. How could he expect to mov
e the door on his own? He was no Biblical Sampson. “Tula, get up. Get up! I need your help.”

  She barely opened her eyes.

  Scuffling feet alerted him to pursuers. In the dim light, three Blattvolk swayed across the expanse toward him. Behind them, Michael followed, head and shoulders taller. The Blattvolk seemed less than human, and more like the marked monsters the Old Order spoke of. With clawed hands, they reached out, unclipped nails long and curled. Their dilated pupils looked like hollow pits. Levi backed up to protect Tula.

  She’d gotten to her knees. Her voice emerged as a gasp and a croak, words he didn’t understand, but the other Blattvolk lowered their arms. Two girls — twins by the look of them — clung to each other and moaned.

  Two more Blattvolk appeared, moving toward the exit like dogs on a scent, with Michael slogging stolidly behind them. The big man set his shoulder against the enormous door and shoved. Tula spoke and the Blattvolk joined Michael, combining their strength to swing the door open. The bright light of sunrise at the end of the tunnel looked so far away, yet at the same time, blinding, after so long in the dim compound. Blattvolk swarmed down the exit tunnel, three, four, then a fifth dragging a wounded leg.

  Michael pushed Tula through the exit after them. Levi caught her arm as she stumbled, and beckoned to the big man. “Come on.”

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  Lifting a huge palm, he shaded his eyes from the light and stepped back.

  Levi let out a breath. The man couldn’t come. The light must affect him as it did the adults. Throat thick with sorrow, Levi let Tula lean against a wall and offered a hand in gratitude. “You are the best man I’ve ever met.” He didn’t know if Michael understood him, but he meant every word. “Thank you.”

  Michael looked from Levi’s hand to his face and back to his hand, and then engulfed it in a gentle clasp. He nodded toward Tula. “Doooo aaaa. Zaaaaave.”

  Then he stepped backward into the mountain.

  Tula squinted her eyes shut when they emerged into the sunlight. Tears streamed down her face — from the light, from relief, from despair. Her body felt wracked and exuberant at the same time. What the artificial UV lights had damaged in her body, telomerase immediately healed, and all the chemicals running through her system warred with one another for dominance. She didn’t know whether to run down the mountain in joy or lie down and sleep for a year.

  Levi wouldn’t let her do either. He pulled her toward the line of metal posts leading away from the entrance. “Wait, the others.” She lifted a weak wrist to point toward the converts standing at the entrance. “They’ll be captured again.”

  Levi hesitated and then went back and took the others by the hands. In a line, they trekked past the old cars and ducked through the hole in the fence. The youngsters wanted to stop and stare at things around them, but Levi kept them moving. The sun beat down mercilessly, adding to the chemicals in her bloodstream. Tula’s vision ebbed and flowed with the hammering of her heart.

  Finally, she had to stop. She sank to the ground at the edge of the road, where a fallen boulder provided a small amount of shade, and bowed her head between her knees. If she’d had anything in her stomach, it would be coming up, right now. The young converts collapsed next to her, their hands joined. Levi retrieved a water bottle from his backpack and sucked down a long drink, then offered it to Tula. She sipped, her stomach flipping upside down. Then she offered it to each convert. The twins turned their heads and closed their eyes.

  “Water.” She’d been speaking Haldanian, but now she used Cannibal. These children had barely been Haldanian long enough to remember their assimilation.

  With reluctance, the girls sipped, then slumped into fetal positions, back to back. Two other converts sat with hands around their knees and rocked or lay belly down, clutching the earth. The boy with the shock of yellow hair continued walking. Stumbling. “Water!” Tula called. He did not look back.

  “Tula, what did they do to you?” Levi ran his hands down her arms, taking stock of her entire body like a parent looking for bumps and bruises.

  She shook her head. “Too much light. Too many chemicals.”

  “But you’re okay, now?”

  She shrugged and nodded. Whatever Dr. Kaneka had put into her system hadn’t killed her. Not yet. She had no idea what the long-term repercussions might be. But there was nothing Levi could do, so why worry him?

  Satisfied, he sat back and took another drink. “They don’t come outside. They won’t follow us.”

  “They have cameras. We’re not safe.” The need to move skittered through her, but her legs wouldn’t obey. She watched the boy disappear down a swale and wished him well.

  “What about them?” Levi pointed at the remaining converts.

  She closed her eyes, and tears seeped from the corners. She didn’t have the words to describe everything in Haldanian, let alone in Levi’s tongue. “They … they were converts. Reversions. I thought they’d been euthanized.”

  “So … they can’t go back?”

  Tula’s eyes flew open. What was going to happen to these converts? What was going to happen to her? She focused on Levi’s concerned face. He’d invited her to come home with him, but she had the feeling that didn’t apply to everyone. “They have nowhere.”

  Levi’s shoulders slumped. He pressed his mouth into a tight line but remained silent.

  “They are children.” She looked at the twins, bones showing where baby fat should be. If she remembered right, they were about eleven or twelve years old, but they looked like little old women. Even their dark hair had lost all shine, cropped close to their gaunt skulls.

  Turning toward the horizon where the plains spread for miles and miles below the mountain, Levi said, “I need to pray.” He rose and, trudged down the path toward the edge of the mountain, leaving Tula alone with her fellow converts.

  Levi could not find the words to pray. Exhausted from making choices gone wrong, even the amazing vista below him would not come into focus. His intuition had always been a gift from God, but everything he did lately led him into more and more trouble. He’d failed to obtain a cure for Josef. He’d killed a man. And he’d allied with abominations.

  Twisting, he looked at the four Blattvolk. Five, counting Tula. Not one. Five. What was he supposed to do with five abominations? What would he tell his people? I didn’t get the forbidden genetic therapy for Josef, but here, I brought home some abominations.

  If he’d had any humor left, he would have chuckled. Instead, he stared at the tangle of green skin sprawled over the dusty red path. Tula’s once jade limbs had a strange purple undercast. Whatever the Fosselites had done to her, it was a worse atrocity than the Blattvolk conversion. Saving them was not a mistake. But he didn’t know where to go from here.

  With each blink, he saw a different picture. Abominations. People. Abominations. People. These … people … needed him. What made them evil in the eyes of God? Tula had proven herself more capable of Christ-like compassion and self-sacrifice than many Old Order. And two of the Blattvolk were barely more than children. How could God condemn children?

  The same way He’d condemned Josef. An unfamiliar heat boiled inside Levi, an ugly, helpless rage. His son’s fate was sealed. It always had been.

  He faced the skyline, fists clenched at his sides. The plains below rolled in brown and green hills until the hazy horizon swallowed the land. A few fat, white clouds cast shadows on the ground but offered no precipitation. To the north, the dark bank of a thunderhead crouched like a dog after sheep. Like death waiting for Josef. Waiting for them all.

  “I don’t understand.” Levi grated into the wind. To the rocks. The bio-altered plant life at his feet. Perhaps there was no God. God was a creation of man, not the other way around.

  Guilt washed over him in a flood and brought him to his knees on the unyielding rocky edge. No. He shook his head to clear the blasphemous thought. God had spoken to him. Many time
s. God wasn’t the problem. He bent until his forehead touched the earth, hands clasped before him in supplication. “Tell me what to do, God.”

  The only answer was the wind.

  At a switchback in the road, they decided to set up camp. Tula sagged next to an ancient pipe jutting from the rock where some long ago builder had diverted a spring. Multi-colored spots swam before her eyes as she watched the fresh, cold water splash into a gully and cut down the mountain. The sun had fallen behind the peaks in the west, but the cool evening breeze couldn’t relieve the heat racing through her skin.

  She lowered her head beneath the stream and allowed the water to sluice down her hair and spine. Symbiotic fungi, Dr. Kaneka had said. Experimental. The technology would be groundbreaking. It could possibly allow her to live without the protection of nuvoplast UV screens. If the fungi didn’t kill her first.

  The other converts seemed to be recuperating. The second man had disappeared earlier this afternoon, and Tula knew Greta would leave them, too, if not for the bullet hole in her leg. The twins stayed close, possibly remembering Tula from their conversion. She tried to remember their names, but couldn’t. They’d remained silent during the walk, but now they mumbled to each other behind their hands. “It’s all right,” Tula reassured them. “You’re free now.”

  Where would they go? Although he continued to keep the group moving, Levi had remained silent on the issue. With the adult converts going their own ways, it might be of less concern than he imagined. She let her gaze travel to where he stood at the downward edge of the bend in the road, looking out over the plains. The bulging backpack rested at his feet, and the green, form-fitting, Fosselite clothing parodied the skin of the rest of the group.

  Tula approached him from behind, scuffing her bare, abraded feet to alert him. He didn’t turn or acknowledge her. The wind skittered leaves and dust over her toes. He bent and reached into the backpack, removing the palm-sized box Dr. Kaneka had given him. After staring at the object briefly, Levi hooked his arm back and hurled the beacon over the edge of the mountain. In the orange reflection of the setting sun, the box sailed straight out toward the plains, then plummeted to the red rocks far below, exploding into a hundred pieces.