The Earthling (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  Animal corpses covered the ground. Sometimes human corpses too. But it was hard to tell. They were twisted corpses. Deformed. People with multiple rib cages sprouting from their spines. Children with two heads. Creatures with many human limbs but no torsos.

  Maria came across a metal barrel on the forest floor. It was painted with a skull, and English words were printed across the barrel: DEFOREST HERBICIDE.

  "Poison," Maria whispered to Crisanto.

  She had heard of this poison. Deforest Herbicide—it was created to wilt the rainforest, leaving the Kalayaan no place to hide. The deformities were incidental. In the villages, they called the poison Mister Weird.

  Rumbling sounded in the distance.

  Maria gasped. A plane!

  There was no cover here. She ran among the naked trees, seeking shelter. She climbed a hill between skeletons, heading toward a cluster of trees that still had a few leaves.

  Atop the hill, she beheld a swath of living rainforest in the east. There would be shelter there. Clean air. Food to forage.

  The plane flew over the forest and began to spray sizzling orange liquid. It gushed out in a mighty torrent, drenching the canopy.

  Where the spray landed, the forest wilted.

  The plane flew eastward. When it passed over farmlands, it sprayed the rice paddies too. And the huts and barns. It flew until it disappeared in the distance.

  Maria walked onward, passing by more empty barrels of herbicide. Past more dead trees, dead animals.

  In the evening, she reached a village. The rice paddies were dry, and the fruit groves had wilted. But people still moved among the nipa huts, and Maria saw no guerrillas nor Earthlings.

  She entered the village, hoping for a kind soul to feed her. She had not eaten all day. People peered from their bamboo huts, eyes dark and suspicious. A rooster moved across the dirt, pecking at pebbles. It had no feathers.

  "Hello?" Maria said. "I come from San Luna in the north. My name is Maria de la Cruz."

  Wind rustled through the naked guava trees, and dead leaves scuttled across the ground, whirled around a well, and blew through the ribcage of a skeleton.

  "Why have you not buried your dead?" Maria said.

  A woman emerged from a hut. She was naked, starving, her skin draped across jutting ribs. She looked like another skeleton. She held something, and it took Maria a moment to realize it was a baby. The child had a long, pointy head, bulging eyes, and clusters of fingers that grew directly from the shoulders. No arms.

  "Leave this place," the skeletal mother said. "There is death here."

  Maria took a step back. "What happened?"

  A man approached her, his skin bright red, a mass of glowing scars. He had no clothes, no hair, and a chemical stench rose from him.

  "They bathed our village with Deforest," he said. "Most of us died. The rest of us changed."

  Another mother emerged, bald and starving. She held conjoined twins without faces. Their heads were just smooth balls of skin with slits for mouths.

  "Leave," the mother said.

  Maria ran.

  She fled the village, heart pounding, not sure if she felt more pity or horror.

  Am I infected? Will I too change?

  She ran east through the charred landscape, over corpses, a rusty bicycle, a stroller with a dead baby inside, and she did not stop running until she reached the sea.

  She plunged into the water and scrubbed herself with sand, and salt filled her eyes, and she wept.

  She wept for what she had seen.

  She wept for her own tragedy.

  She wept for her sundering world.

  Maria did not know why this was happening. Why the Earthlings had invaded. Why the Bahayans fought. She would surrender if she could, reject the Santelmos, and join the Human Commonwealth. Or she would knock the Earthling starships from the sky, slay every Earthling soldier on Bahay, and even strike them on their own distant world. But she could do neither. Not surrender or win. She was powerless. She was just Maria de la Cruz, seventeen years old, a girl with too many questions, with too much fear in her heart. She could do nothing but try to survive.

  Come deeper.

  The ocean whispered.

  Come into the embrace of the waves.

  She stood, the water up to her waist, gazing at the ocean. There was a world under the waves. There was a secret kingdom of life. A kingdom the Earthlings could not deform. A place of fish and mermaids and castles, where no babies were born without faces, where no parents burned, where she could become a mermaid and feel no pain.

  Come to us.

  Come deeper.

  Come into our embrace.

  But Maria could not. Because the toad had spoken to her. The toad had said she could save someone. With her knife. It was the only way. She could not go into the sea because the Santelmos had glowed around her, a thousand little lights, delivering her from death. She had survived when so many had died, and she had a mission she did not understand.

  So she turned away from the waves.

  She walked away from that promise of wonder and forgetfulness.

  Cleansed of poison, she kept walking south. A girl with one shoe. A girl in rags. Hungry, maybe starving, maybe infected. A girl who had slit a man's throat and shot another. Maybe a girl who could still be redeemed.

  She walked the longest walk of her life. Through death. Past craters dug by Earthling shells. Past enemy bases. When helicopters roared overhead, she hid under fallen logs, cringing as bullets peppered the trees around her. She walked through dying rainforest. Through villages of living skeletons and the children of poison. She stood as jeeps rumbled by, as Earthlings hooted and hollered and shouted at her to show her breasts. She walked onward.

  Closer to the city, others joined her. Refugees from the burning north. Some were families. Many were alone. Many were burnt, missing limbs. Some carried deformed babies kissed by Mister Weird. They traveled the roads and trails, they sailed rafts down the rivers. They headed to the same place. Toward the city. Toward hope.

  Maria walked with them, but she kept to herself. Her demons were company enough, and she felt ashamed of her sins. She walked until she saw the city in the distance.

  Mindao. Home of Lost Souls.

  A city of Bahayans under the banners of Earth.

  Purgatory.

  Her ragged dress fluttered in the ashy wind, and she stumbled along a cracked highway, heading to her new home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Garden Path

  "Where do you think they'll send us?" George wrung his hands. "Oh goddammit, I can't take this tension."

  "They'll probably drop your fat ass on Bahay," Etty said. "Boom! Instant victory."

  George flipped her off. "No need. They'll just drop you down on Bahay, and you'll annoy the enemy to death."

  "Damn right!" Etty raised her Oakeshott and mimicked firing. "I'm gonna annoy them with bullets. Pew pew pew!"

  Jon grumbled at his two friends. "Will you two knock it off? Etty, lower your gun, dammit, you're a private now, not some dumbass recruit. And George? Stop biting your fingernails. You're making me nervous."

  They were still in Roma Station, but standing at the far end of the cylinder. Over the past ten weeks, they had gradually moved through the station, airlock to airlock, each level a battle. They had reached the end. Now they gathered before a concrete building, waiting for their names to be called. Waiting to be sorted.

  "We're all nervous!" George said, raising his hands in dismay. "How could we not be? They're gonna sort us soon! In just minutes, we'll know how we'll spend our entire army service. The next five years. Some of us will be sent down to Earth to defend the home front. Some of us will be sent to guard Mars, Titan, or the asteroid belt. And some of us to Bahay."

  Jon lowered his head. "And some of us won't come home."

  George groaned. "Oh, that makes me feel better. Thanks!"

  "Hey, you reckon they'll recommend some of us for officer school
?" Etty said. "I think I'd make a great officer. Just as good as Lieutenant Carter."

  "You ain't gonna become an officer," George said. "None of us. Because we're dumbasses. We're cannon fodder. I know it! We're doomed to be sent to Bahay. Doomed!"

  "Guys, calm down!" Jon said. "First of all, the sorting officer listens to requests. If you don't like where you're sorted, you can argue, change the army's mind. My brother did that. He was sorted to Earth. He insisted to go to Bahay. To fight."

  Suddenly everyone was silent. Even the rest of the platoon overheard and hushed.

  The unspoken words hung in the air.

  And he never came home.

  They all stared at their feet for a while.

  "Hey!" Etty broke the silence. "You reckon they have a sorting hat in there?"

  George tilted his head. "A what?"

  "A sorting hat!" Etty said. "You know, like in that old movie with the wizards! You put a hat on your head, it reads your brain, and it announces your destiny." She spoke with a baritone English accent. "You—to mop latrines! You—to a desk! You—yes, you, you giant ginger idiot, to Bahay!"

  "He'll sort you to the loony bin," George muttered.

  More names were being called. One by one, the privates stepped into the concrete building. They left by the back door, entered shuttles, and flew off into space.

  Some down to Earth.

  Some to the colonies.

  Some to the fire.

  The line moved quickly, and soon Jon was only a few steps away. Cold sweat began to drip down his back.

  I want to be sent to Bahay, he thought. I want to fight. Like my brother fought. But I'm scared. If they station me on Earth, will I dare ask to fight? Or will the fear overwhelm me?

  "Private Taylor!"

  A voice from behind.

  Jon spun around to see Sergeant Lizzy approaching.

  "Commander?"

  She beckoned to him. "With me, Private Taylor. Now."

  Jon glanced at his friends. They stared back, pale. Etty gulped.

  "Taylor!" the sergeant barked.

  Jon hurried toward her. "Yes, Commander."

  The sergeant began walking across the station. Jon followed. They walked along the curving wall, moving upward, like hamsters in a huge wheel. Finally they stood at right angles to the other privates.

  Amazingly, here inside this space station, they found a little yard. Actual trees grew from pots of soil—not even plastic. Jon could smell them, and a bird sang on a branch. Among the trees stood a trailer, hidden from the bustle of Roma Station, a sanctuary among the chaos.

  Lizzy walked around an oak tree and toward a garden. A gardener knelt in the dirt, his back facing them, tending to cherry tomato plants.

  Lizzy slammed her heels together and saluted.

  "Sergeant Lizzy Pascal reporting!"

  Jon too saluted. "Recruit T—I mean, Private Taylor reporting!"

  The gardener stood up, faced them, and returned the salute.

  It was Lieutenant Carter.

  "My little sanctuary," the officer said, gesturing at the garden and trees. "A last comfort. What do you think, Jon?"

  Jon admired the garden, trees, and chirping birds.

  "I would have preferred training here than in the plastic jungle, sir."

  Carter did not even crack a smile. "The plastic jungle is easy, Private. Compared to what's out there. To the true jungle."

  Jon nodded. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

  "Jon." The lieutenant's voice softened. "Come, sit down. Let's talk."

  They sat on a bench under the oak tree, and Carter handed Jon a bottle of beer. He cracked open a bottle of his own, and they both drank. It was good beer. Cold and dark. Lizzy remained standing, ever vigilant, her gun in her hands. Between the trees, Jon could see the rest of the space station, but sitting in this garden, it was easy to imagine that he was back on Earth, just sitting on a porch, enjoying a cold one.

  Jon didn't know much about the military. But he sensed this was unusual. Privates normally didn't sit on benches with their commanding officers, enjoying a beer. He said nothing, waiting.

  Carter took a slow sip, then lowered his bottle. He spoke softly. "Jon, your brother was a good friend of mine. You know that, right?"

  Jon nodded. "Yes, sir. He was a squad leader in your platoon."

  "He was more than that," Carter said. "Paul was like a brother to me. I know I'm not his real brother. You are. But together in the war, we became that close. I was with him when he died. And I remember who killed him."

  Jon felt a chill. "Paul died in an explosion," he whispered. "A roadside bomb."

  "That's what the official report said," Carter said. "Only Lizzy and I know the truth. We were there. We saw it happen. Jon, what I'm about to tell you is highly classified. You must never speak of it to anyone. Understood?"

  "Perfectly."

  Carter looked into his eyes. "Your brother was executed."

  Jon felt the blood drain from his face. His heart beat madly. His hands shook.

  "Who executed him?" Jon whispered.

  "A Bahayan. A Kalayaan terrorist. A man named Ernesto Santos. He's nicknamed Iron because he tortures his victims with a clothing iron."

  Carter pulled from his pocket a photograph. It depicted a Bahayan standing in the jungle. A scar rifted his face, and a cataract covered one eye. The man was smirking, revealing a golden tooth. Blood covered his hands.

  Nearby, Lizzy winced. Just the slightest movement. But Jon noticed.

  "My God," Jon whispered.

  "There was no God in the jungle," Carter said. "There was just us and the Kalayaan. We fought them in the darkness. We fought them hard. They knew the jungle and we did not. They knew every branch and stone. They could vanish among the trees like ghosts. They picked us out one by one. Until only three of us remained. Me, Lizzy, and Paul."

  "And they killed him," Jon said. "But you got away." He stood up. "How did you get away? How are you alive while he's dead?"

  Blood drummed in his ears. Lizzy took a step toward him, but then she looked away, face hard.

  Carter remained seated. He gazed ahead at the oak tree, as if gazing back at the jungle. "Paul tried to fight. Tried to kill Iron. He was the bravest man I knew. The Kalayaan held him down, disarmed him, bound his arms. They asked him a question or two. And then Iron put a bullet through his head."

  Jon slumped back onto the bench. He placed his head in his hands. "I wish I could have been there. Could have stopped it. Could have saved him."

  Carter placed a hand on Jon's back. "Paul gave his life for me. With the time he bought me, I was able to escape that day."

  Finally Lizzy spoke. "I was not."

  Jon turned toward his sergeant. Lizzy was staring ahead, face expressionless, but her eyes were damp.

  "Lizzy, I'm sorry," Jon whispered.

  The sergeant didn't look at him. She spoke to the distance. To an old memory. "For weeks, Ernesto kept me in a cage. For weeks, he beat me. Raped me. Tortured me." She pulled up her shirt, revealing scars across her torso—shaped like irons. "He burned me, and when I still would not speak, he took my hand." She clenched her metal fist. "Carter came back to me. He came back with a company of soldiers and freed me."

  "And Ernesto Santos?" Jon said. "The man in the photograph? Did you kill him?"

  "Not yet," Carter said. "But we will."

  "We will," Lizzy vowed.

  "You're going back there, aren't you?" Jon whispered. "Back to Bahay."

  The lieutenant nodded. "After our ordeal, we stepped away from the war. But the war never left us. We have to go back. To finish what we started. Lizzy and I came to Roma Station to train new soldiers. To find true warriors. We're going back, Jon Taylor, and you deserve to come with us. To help us kill Ernesto and avenge your brother."

  Lizzy finally let down her guard. She joined the men on the bench, put a hand on Jon's shoulder, and spoke softly. "You don't have to come with us, Jon. We won't force you. If you ask us, we'l
l get you a job on Earth, far from the fight. You're a musician, right? We can recommend you for a military band. We'll keep you safe."

  Jon stood up. He walked toward the oak tree, lowered his head. For a long moment, he stood there. Overcome.

  I miss you, Paul. We all do. We miss you so much.

  Jon tightened his lips, wiped his eyes, and turned toward his commanders.

  Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Lizzy stood and faced him.

  Jon raised his chin. "I never wanted to join the army. I never wanted to be a soldier, only a musician. But a war broke out. And a little brown envelope came in the mail. And I lost a brother. Even now, I'm tempted. To go home to Earth. To wait out the war. But I can't go back. I can't turn away from what happened. I've been dreaming about the jungle, and in my dreams, I'm lost in that darkness, trapped in the labyrinth. And if I go back to Earth now, I'll be lost forever. I'll go with you. To Bahay. To war. To avenge my brother. To serve my planet. And to finally find my way out of the darkness."

  "And we're going with you!" rose a cry from behind.

  Etty ran between the trees and burst into the garden, panting.

  "And me too!" George stumbled after her, cheeks red, gasping and heaving.

  "You can't get rid of us!" Etty added. She jabbed Jon in the chest. "We're your best friends, buster. And if you're going to war, we're right behind ya."

  Lieutenant Carter cleared his throat. "Privates, are you aware of the penalty for eavesdropping on an officer of Earth?"

  Etty and George turned toward the officer and paled.

  George gulped. "You won't toss us out the airlock, will you, sir?"

  Etty snorted. "Oh, don't worry, your fat ass won't fit."

  "Shut up, pipsqueak!" George curled his fists.

  The lieutenant cleared his throat again. "Privates!"

  They all fell silent. The three privates faced their officer.

  "Seems like we're all going, sir," Jon said. "If you'll have us." He glanced at his friends, then back at Carter. "We're not the bravest soldiers. Or the strongest."

  "Or the brightest," Etty said.

  "But if you lead us," Jon continued, "we won't let you down. We'll find Ernesto Santos. We'll finish the job."

  He saluted his officer. His friends did too.