[scifan] plantation 01 - plantation

by Stella Samiotou Fitzsimons

  I shrug. I’m at a loss for words. “I don’t know, I was mad when I took it. I’ve been trying to give it back.”

  He tries to hand his knife to me, but I don’t take it. “See, that’s all it takes to give it back. It hardly takes any trying at all.”

  “Yeah, and have you mad at me once again.”

  “Me? Mad at you? What?” I seem to have hit a nerve. “You’re the one who’s always mad at me. Everything I do annoys you.” He exhales and tries to calm down. “Why didn’t you give the knife back when I told you I lost it?”

  “I was going to put it back eventually.”

  He peers into my eyes, coldly.

  “Come on, Finn,” I say as I lose my nerve. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Eventually is not an option. We have to act immediately or else one day hesitation will be our undoing. Hesitation is death out here.” He stops to exhale. “Freya, your worst enemy is yourself. In fact, your only enemy in this camp is yourself. Damian’s right. I can’t help you. Only you can.”

  When he turns and goes I feel suddenly alone, orphaned. I want to run after him and beg for his forgiveness but that’s my whole problem. I react too fast, too strong, too selfishly. Maybe tomorrow he will hate me less. He can’t just stop caring for me, can he? He’s cared about me for so long.

  I go inside the tent and notice the new mattress on the bed. I sit on it and realize it’s the best mattress I’ve ever had, firm yet soft, relaxing and comforting. Finn will understand. If not, I will make him. Everything will be as before. We will be forever connected. This time I will be a better friend to him.

  I will be a better friend to everyone. That’s what he wants and I can never imagine a life without Finn.

  Chapter 8

  I am not exactly crazy about cleaning days, but today I’m actually glad it’s my turn. Maybe I can stop mulling over the same things again and again. It’s good that it is also Tilly’s day. Her constant chattering and her good nature despite her bandaged foot are much appreciated and needed.

  We’ve just finished cleaning the bathrooms, a task that is painfully unpleasant on a good day. Given my mood and lack of concentration today, it would have been beyond miserable if not for Tilly.

  We’re headed to the kitchen which, at least, is an improvement. We start picking up glasses and plates from the tables. The kitchen used to be a lab before we swept in and took over the place. It took a couple of weeks to convert it to what it is today. There are two ovens that were once used for chemical processes and reactions but are now put into culinary uses on a daily basis. The most accomplished cook among us without a doubt is Biscuit, with Theo coming in last. I rank somewhere in the middle and so does Tilly.

  There’s plenty of counters and cupboards in the room, two long metal tables with six chairs each, a big clock on one wall that doesn’t work, and a picture of a rooster on the opposite wall. The latter was confiscated from a demolished house in Lost Town, practically the only thing that was left unharmed as if protected by magic.

  I ask Tilly to take over cleaning the counters while I concentrate on the ovens. It’s fair since I am not injured in any way besides my pride. Tilly finds a bowl of half-eaten dough behind the mixer and starts laughing.

  “I know who’s been here,” she says and both of us exclaim at the same time, “Biscuit!”

  When Biscuit’s name was picked for him, it was not the usual method, but it has proven to fit him perfectly. We were walking along a creek that day when we saw some small round things floating in the water.

  “What’s that?” Rabbit asked.

  Biscuit’s eyes turned gooey. “It looks like biscuits to me,” he said.

  We all smiled, realizing his mistake.

  Damian was the one who said it. “It’s moose turds, you nincompoop.”

  Rabbit and Scout fell on the ground laughing while even Damian started to chuckle. We could see Biscuit still wasn’t sure it was moose droppings and he kept staring at them, hoping we were all wrong. What could I do then? I fell on the ground and laughed with Scout and Rabbit.

  That’s how a boy named Harry had his name changed to Biscuit.

  “It’s a wonder he doesn’t weigh 200 pounds,” Tilly says now.

  In fact, he’s as fit and athletic as the rest of us. As much as he likes food, he burns his calories faster than Rabbit can cover a mile.

  “We all have our regrettable habits. Biscuit’s aren’t all that bad and he gets away with them,” I conclude.

  “There’s not a single thing bad about him,” Tilly says. “He’s thoughtful, gentle and funny. And he can laugh better than anyone.”

  “Anyone besides you, maybe,” I tease her.

  Tilly makes a scrunched up face. She likes Biscuit.

  “He’s better than me at almost everything that involves physical and intellectual skills,” she says.

  “Is it Biscuit we’re still talking about? Am I missing something?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s not better than you at anything. You guys both have your strong points, but yours are exceptionally strong. As Doc once put it, you have bionic eyes and ears. Nobody can beat that.”

  “Well, I wasn’t talking about the special abilities implanted in us at the alien labs.” Tilly pauses for a second to look at me. “You know, Biscuit’s nose could be bionic, too,” she says.

  “What good would a bionic nose be?” I exclaim.

  “I don’t know, but have you seen how good he is during the martial arts practice? He’s getting better and better.”

  “All right, we’ve established that Biscuit is great,” I say finally. Tilly blushes now so I change the subject. “Everyone is exceptional in their own way. Like you said, for some reason, the aliens made us this way.”

  “But, Freya, we are more than our abilities. Don’t say it so coldly. We have hearts and minds untouched by them.”

  “Yes, of course. You’re right, Tilly. And you know what? The most exceptional thing about the Saviors is that we have each other’s backs.”

  “Yeah, I never got a chance to properly thank you, you know, for coming back for me up in the hills, you and Daphne.”

  It strikes me that the only reason we were running that day and Tilly fell behind was my carelessness. My daydreaming almost put her back into slavery or worse. “You would have done the same thing,” I say sheepishly. “I told you, we have each other’s backs.”

  “Biscuit says we are like The Three Musketeers. One for all and all for one.”

  “I think it’s easier to make three as one than twelve as one.”

  “The Three Musketeers are actually four anyway,” she informs me.

  “Is that a book he’s read?”

  “Yes, Biscuit made me read it,” she says, beginning to blush again.

  “I’ll put it on my list.”

  We get back to work. I scrub the oven while Tilly wipes down the tables. She’s curiously silent now. She hasn’t uttered a word in at least two minutes.

  “Freya?” she calls to me suddenly.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think there’s such a thing as love?”

  It takes me a moment to find the right answer. “Of course there is. We love each other, don’t we?”

  She stops her work and looks me straight in the eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, love like we read in the novels. Between a boy and a girl. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

  It finally hits me. “Oh, Tilly. Does Biscuit know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you love him.”

  “I don’t! That’s not why I’m asking.”

  She turns away and goes back to wiping the table.

  “Well, then, no, I don’t believe there’s such a thing as romantic love,” I tell her. “Not in our world. There’s no time for that. No point.”

  I go back to scrubbing, thinking I have said the right thing. We are all so new to this autonomous life. It would be
silly to think we can control our future while there is an alien invasion on Earth. Every day, for all we know, could be our last.

  Tilly comes at me again with a new determination on her face. “Freya, how can you say that? What about Finn and you?”

  “Finn and me? You can’t be serious,” I say, laughing.

  “Why not? You take off together all the time. You always support him and he supports you. Just like in the books.”

  “Finn and I are friends, Tilly. Very good, close friends. At least we used to be until I screwed up big time.”

  “What did you do? When?”

  “Let’s just say it might take him a long while before he forgives me.”

  Her face takes on that mischievous expression that tells me she’s not done talking about this. “I’ll believe you if you say that’s how it is, but just so you know, everybody thinks otherwise.”

  Okay, what? “Who’s everybody? What are you talking about?”

  “Everybody is everybody. Well, I don’t know about Damian. He might not think about those things, but definitely Biscuit, Rabbit and Scout. Zoe and Nya, too. They’re girls. They notice.”

  “You are all crazy. Quit talking about me behind my back.”

  “We’ve only brought it up once or twice, honestly,” Tilly says. I can tell she’s a bit hurt by my reaction.“And it really wasn’t focused on Finn and you,” she goes on. “We talked about what love really is and why people seemed to think about it so much in the days before the invasion.”

  We probably all of us have wondered about such things one time or another. But they are counterproductive meanderings so I try not to dwell too much upon them. Our lives are hard enough as it is.

  Daphne interrupts my train of thought when she walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. She can’t find what she’s looking for and turns to us.

  “Is there no lemonade left?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” Tilly responds.

  I point at the fruit basket. “There are some lemons in the basket. Why don’t you make some lemonade? I could use a glass after all this scrubbing,” I suggest.

  Daphne doesn’t even bother to answer me. She leaves the kitchen as quickly as she can which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise.

  Tilly sighs. “Now Daphne is like an open book despite her attempts to hide it. She has her eyes set on Damian, but he seems to be completely unaware. There can be no mistake, though. She’s in love with him. Even you can see that, right? It’s so romantic.”

  I have no idea where Tilly and the rest of them get these ideas. Daphne of all people romantic and in love. It’s absurd, maybe even more absurd than what they’re saying about Finn and me. Daphne likes Damian, sure. She also likes to be on his good side, but in love? You need a heart to do that, don’t you?

  Obviously, we all have too much time on our hands.

  *

  DAPHNE HURRIES TO CATCH UP with me on my way to the showers. I immediately dread her sense of urgency. “Whatever it is, can it wait?” I say. “I’m feeling grimy after all that cleaning. I need to hit the shower.”

  “Relax, I’m not here to lecture you. I just want to talk.”

  Daphne wants to talk to me. I would have been less surprised if she sprouted wings and flew away. For better or worse, she’s managed to grab my attention. Part of me wants to be on her good side and put our silly differences aside.

  “It’s safe to say that you hate Damian, am I right?” she says with a sweet smile on her face.

  It takes me a couple of seconds to comprehend what she is suggesting. “Hate him?” I say finally. “Of course I don’t hate him. I don’t hate anyone. At least not anyone human.”

  “Not even me?”

  “Daphne, where is this going? I really want to shower.”

  She places both hands on my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “I noticed you didn’t answer the question,” she says.

  “I don’t hate you, Daphne.”

  “That’s nice to know. Really. Maybe now you know it, too.”

  I nod, unable to speak or look away. Her eyes shine like two bright blue stones in the night. I feel like a stunned deer staring at bright lights.

  “Your dislike of me comes only from my association with the person you truly hate,” she goes on. “The person that really stands between you and your self-esteem. Damian.”

  I’m about to nod again when something clicks in me and I put two and two together. Daphne’s spell is broken and I sweep her hands off my shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” I say. “You’re not allowed to hypnotize me without my consent! This goes against everything we have agreed to.”

  She laughs my protests off. “It’s just a joke, Freya. I didn’t really think you’d fall for it.”

  “A joke? Do you see me laughing?”

  “You’re too serious. That’s the whole problem with you. Lighten up, Freya. Life’s too short.”

  She strolls away while I’m still trying to recover my bearings after that short mental state of confusion she produced in me. Of all the things she has ever pulled on me, this must have been the strangest.

  Chapter 9

  The day is brilliant with a soft breeze blowing from the north, jostling leaves and filling lungs. A much needed change from the relentless heat wave of the past few days. Perfect conditions for a training session in the forest.

  The camp is empty and unguarded for the first time in a while. The only protective measure now are Theo’s sensors that will send us a warning if anything unusual takes place while we’re gone.

  We have picked a small clearing deep within the woods for our practice, about two miles south from camp and beyond the hills. We like to train in groups but also separately, improving our skills at everything, from martial arts to target shooting to sword fighting.

  Finn has been formally nice to me all morning, helping me to better latch my rope loops around tree branches and keeping an eye on me during the fighting practice, but he’s keeping his distance in a way that only I can perceive. And it breaks my heart. No matter how many times I apologize, he will not fully forgive me. Not until I have proven that I have learned something.

  It has always been like that with Finn. Even back at Plantation-8 he would not give anyone the slightest room for wiggling as far as honesty. According to Finn, if we don’t trust and support each other, we don’t have anything.

  Life at Plantation-8 was hard and exhausting and it left you feeling alone and hopeless. Our schedules were so busy that we barely had a moment to ourselves and that might have been a blessing in disguise. It didn’t leave us a lot of time to think and worry about what was coming next.

  We were not allowed to talk to each other except during meals and the twenty-minute break before bedtime. Even then, we had to speak in low voices and one at a time. The alien directors hated disorder and noise.

  Finn began talking loud one day during one of the breaks, wondering why the aliens kept us alive, why they trained us, why they bothered to teach us how to read and write and why they allowed us to socialize and develop distinct personalities.

  It wasn’t long before two Sliman guards walked into the dining room and ordered Finn to stand up. They asked him to repeat what he had said. Finn obliged them immediately without altering a single word.

  He was stricken with a Sliman taser and brought to his knees. He was twelve-years old but age was relative at the plantations. We had all grown into a forced adulthood. We were hard as rocks and depended solely on ourselves.

  Finn was taken away that day and didn’t return until the following week. I despaired thinking he could be dead or sent away. My whole body ached and my soul was inconsolable as I feared the worst. My eleven-year-old self knew pretty well what I know now: I loved Finn and needed him with an urgency that defied every single law and regulation of our very existence in the plantation.

  Finn came back thinner and paler than before. He had been submitted to electroshocks and he had been starved for thre
e days before being injected with nutrients and medications. He had gone through hell but he had not backed down. Finn didn’t lie then and he won’t lie now no matter how much the truth can hurt.

  I shake my head to get rid of the painful memories and scan the area around me, trying to find the least conspicuous way to get away from the group, when Daphne jumps at me and throws me down to the ground. She loses her balance and lands right next to me. Our limbs get tangled and I can hear her fast breathing in my left ear.

  I look at her as if she has gone mad but then she points at a small dark figure a few feet away on its hurried way to vanish under a rock.

  “A scorpion,” she tells me as she gets up and walks away at a quick pace. I have to wonder if she’s sincere. Did she notice that from a hundred yards away? Is she really superhuman like she’s been trying to convince everyone?

  The truth is, Daphne might not be half as annoying if I didn’t push her buttons from day one. Well, not exactly from day one as I was too grateful to her and Damian for their assistance in my liberation at first. Our problems began later when Damian was voted leader of the Saviors and she immediately assigned herself to the role of his confidant and right hand.

  It is late afternoon when we decide to return to the camp. We take off in pairs, with Rabbit and Scout at the head, Damian and Daphne right behind them and Theo and Zoe in the back. I walk next to Tilly and Finn walks alongside Biscuit several feet behind us. As an exercise, we’re keeping silent and watchful of our surroundings. Tilly has a hard time with that. She squeezes my hand a couple of times and keeps messing with her hair and shirt. I imagine she has a million things she wants to tell me and can hardly wait until we reach the camp.

  Then Tilly can’t control herself anymore. She turns and whispers to me, “Guess who was having a private conversation behind the bushes earlier.”

  “What do you mean private?” I ask under my breath.

  “You know, talking about things they don’t want anybody to know about.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? We are allowed to have secrets, right? Don’t go around eavesdropping on people, it’s not very polite.”