Suddenly Atlas came belting into view from one of the bedrooms, hollering victoriously, and Whitey was forced to take evasive action, inadvertently banging and scraping against the wall amid an indignant squawk and an explosion of feathers.
“Whoa, slow down, speedy!” I said, clutching at the boy as he tried to weave past. “What have you got there?”
“Egg!” he said jubilantly, thrusting his pale white prize at my face. “Can we take this one?”
I took it from him and cupped it in my hands, holding it up toward the sun.
“I don’t see a baby in this one, so I guess you can. Just be careful with it, huh? Remember you broke the last one.”
“I will,” he said, paying me no heed as he snatched it back and took off at breakneck speed across the street.
“Scrambled eggs, anyone?” Mish said, smiling from the doorway. She stepped down and slid an arm across my back, settling comfortably against my shoulder as we watched Atlas prance around like an Olympic torchbearer with the egg.
“Am I the only one scared that we’re probably going to have a whole lot more just like him to look after before long?” I said.
Ellinan groaned, and Mish thudded her head into my chest several times as if it were a brick wall.
“Thousands of them,” I teased. “That’s a lot of nappy changes.”
To think we’d have more like Atlas soon was purely wishful thinking on my part. I’d already returned to the lab twice in the last couple of years, trying to implant more embryos into the a-wombs, but the foetuses had perished after several months, well before reaching full term. For now, Atlas was the only human we had here at Somerset.
“Go away,” Mish said, thumping me playfully in the stomach as she walked off. “I’m done with baby poo.”
“That leaves you, Ell.”
“As if, Brant. How about you get that PlayBox in the living room working instead, like you said you were going to?”
“Hey, I know better than to take you on with that thing. Even if I could get it working.”
We set off toward home, and I gripped his shoulder and gave him a rough embrace, earning myself another crack in the ribs. I laughed and pushed him on ahead, taking a moment to look back and survey the street and what we’d created: the copse of gum tree saplings down the hill, the lush grass that crowded up against the houses, the patches of wheat and corn. The sound of insects that we’d brought out of cryosleep and returned to the Earth, the small yellow chicks poking their heads above the greenery as they foraged for worms.
Looking back, they were good years, those first few of Atlas’ life. They were almost carefree, in a way, despite the odd sighting of Marauders moving through distant parts of the city, as close to halcyon days as we’d seen in a long time.
But we didn’t know the darkness was coming.
18
Cider Street was only a few minutes’ walk from Somerset, and we reached it just before dark. The house was nestled in a hollow where the road gently dipped away, a modest single-storey rendered brick place featuring a narrow portico at the front and large bay windows through which candlelight spilled from the front room.
Arsha had already lit a campfire out on the road, and the three human children that were under her care danced around it, shouting and singing as if carrying out some tribal ritual. Upon sighting us they abandoned their game and came running along the road. They were met half way by Atlas, who they joyfully embraced and showered with kisses.
They towered over him. Although only a matter of weeks older, they had the look of children who were years his senior.
The dark-skinned boy was the first to break free of the group hug, loping over to us with easy, powerful strides. He wore only a pair of grey shorts, and I could see that his chest and arms were already beginning to fill out with ropey muscles. He hugged me first, grinning as I tousled his fuzzy, closely cropped hair, then embraced Mish and Ellinan in turn.
“Myron, how are you?” I said.
“Good, thank you, Brant.”
“How have you been?”
“Good. But guess what? Arsha says I’m faster than everyone now, even you.”
“Oh, she did, did she?”
“Yes, watch!” He went scampering back toward the fire as fast as his legs would carry him, circling it at breakneck speed several times before raising his arms victoriously and making a bellowing sound.
“Okay, that’s fast,” I called in response. “You win.”
The two girls came next to greet us: first Loren, a thin, pale child with white hair and prominent cheekbones, her skin like porcelain; then Chidi, a cheery sort with a round face framed by dark ringlet hair and an ever-present smile. It was a face that always made me feel welcome. They offered brief greetings but really only had eyes for Mish, each grabbing a hand and dragging her over toward the campfire as Atlas orbited around them like a stray satellite.
Arsha stood quietly behind the fire watching us approach, a little smile on her lips as the joyous children chattered excitedly at each other and tried to organise their first game. Ellinan and Mish carried their sacks of fresh produce over to her, each offering her a polite kiss on the cheek as she thanked them for their gifts.
“Hi, Brant,” she said as Mish and Ellinan ran off to join the smaller children. “Thanks for the supplies.”
“Hey, no problem.”
Arsha had mellowed considerably over the last few years. Although still not fully trusting of me – at least not trusting enough to share the same roof – she was nonetheless appreciative of the assistance I’d given her. These gifts of tomatoes, potatoes, beans, oranges and other fruit and vegetables from our garden at Somerset had become something of a regularity in the past couple of years, as Arsha struggled to feed her three children solely from the garden here at Cider. Her children were ravenous, consuming far more than Atlas by himself, so the surplus at Somerset helped to make up for the shortfall here.
“The kids have really been looking forward to tonight,” she said.
“Same, they love it over here.”
“We should get together more often.” She glanced at me awkwardly, the remnants of that old animosity poking through her gaze like rough edges of scar tissue.
“Sure.” I smiled reassuringly, secretly wondering if the ease of companionship we’d once enjoyed would ever return.
The kids had decided upon a game, hide and seek, and they began to fan out along the street and into the house as Chidi counted to ten with her hands clamped over her eyes.
“Yours are bigger every time I see them,” I said.
“Yeah. Monsters. Atlas looks like he’s doing well, too.”
“He’s okay.” The conversation drifted off as we listened to Chidi finishing her count and screaming in delight as she found her first target almost immediately – Loren crouched in amongst a plot of wheat. At times like this I could almost imagine that the White Summer had never happened, that there had been no ensuing Winter, and that we were just neighbourhood friends watching the children play as we prepared dinner.
I turned back to Arsha, who was staring into the fire. In truth, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I couldn’t help being tentative around her. Considering the friction that had been caused by my actions in the past, I felt that caution was justified. I didn’t want to say something that disagreed with her and jeopardised the tenuous bond we were starting to re-establish.
Finally, after a few minutes it was Arsha who spoke.
“Need some rain.”
“Don’t we always?” I said.
“And the coming cold season. I have another bad feeling about it.”
“So do I. It’s going to be another lean one, I think. That makes it three in a row.”
“Yeah. It can’t last forever, right?” she said. “We’ll catch a break soon.”
Arsha knelt by a pot that hung over the fire in which she was boiling pieces of pumpkin, testing their readiness with a two-pronged fork with a long wooden handle.
“How are your grain stocks?” she said, looking up at me.
“There’s a bit there, enough to get by. But we need to get back in the lab before too long and try to get some more embryos cooking.”
“I honestly don’t have the time to think about more embryos,” she said wearily. “I’m finding it hard to keep up with these kids as it is.”
“Well, I’ve tried implanting some more.”
“Really? When?”
“A couple of times over the last two years. They didn’t make it.”
“Hmm.” She shook her head sadly. “I wonder if they’ve deteriorated too far?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just doing something wrong.”
“Who knows?”
“But anyway, we have to keep trying. We need more than the four children, that’s for sure.”
“Well, there’s no point bringing more into the world if we don’t have the food supplies,” she said.
Here we were again, I realised, recovering old ground. The same kind of conversations we’d had in the past.
“I know,” I said, “but if the cryotank fails, or something happens to the power at M-Corp…”
“Have you been there lately to check it out?”
“I don’t get there as often as I’d like. A few weeks ago would have been the last time. Cell levels looked stable, and we’re still getting charge from the roof. Have you been there yourself?”
“It’s been at least a couple of months, to be honest. With all the other stuff I’m doing, it’s tough to get away.”
I readied a pot with the sunflower oil Ellinan had prepared, dropping a small cloth bag full of corn kernels inside. There were more screams of delight behind us as other children were uprooted from their hiding places.
“I’ll head in again this week and make sure it’s okay.” I paused. “What about you, Arsha? Are you managing?”
She began to skewer the pumpkin pieces out into another pot, then began mashing them with the fork.
“Yeah, I’m managing.” She gave a little laugh. “This was never going to be easy, you know.”
Atlas came running over then, interrupting the conversation as he bawled incoherently, pointing back in the direction he had come. I pulled him closer and tried to comfort him but he would have none of it.
“Loren cheats!” he said, his face stormy. “She wasn’t s’posed to find me in the garden!”
Loren appeared out of the gloom and into the circle of light cast by the fire, pouting and looking hesitantly to Arsha for support.
“Found you fair and square!” she retorted.
“No,” Atlas said, taking a swing at her with his fist, which I caught and deflected harmlessly.
“Uh-uh!” I said, pulling Atlas back to face me. “No hitting.”
Atlas tried to wriggle away, but I held him firm.
“She cheated!” he insisted.
“Atlas, the aim of the game is to go and find each other, so it doesn’t sound like she cheated to me. And besides, that doesn’t give you the right to hit anyone.”
“Hmmphf!”
I was vaguely aware that Arsha had stopped her preparations and stood watching me, the fork poised absently in the air, its prongs coated in clumpy wads of pumpkin.
“Now listen, mister,” I said. “This is not how you play a friendly game. I want you to say sorry to Loren right now.”
The blonde girl folded her arms and waited expectantly, but Atlas just stood with an angry scowl chiselled into his face, as if carved in granite.
“I can’t,” Atlas said, grumpy. “I lost my sorry.”
“You… lost your sorry?” I said, fighting back laughter at the odd concept that could only tumble from the mouth of a child. Arsha stifled a grin with her hand and turned away to hide her expression.
“Yes,” Atlas said.
“Well, you better find it again in a hurry, or I’m going to have to take you home. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Not after we just got here.”
Grudgingly, the boy turned back to Loren and looked up at her. “Saww-wee.”
“That’s better. Thank you, Atlas. Now I need you both to go and round the others up. It’s time to eat. Okay?”
They nodded, Loren dragging Atlas along reluctantly for a few steps before the boy broke into a run, the tussle forgotten. Arsha began to sprinkle thyme and rosemary into the pumpkin mix, as well as some carrot she’d prepared earlier, the smile still on her face.
“You’re good with them,” she remarked.
“Not really.”
“No, you are.”
“I’m just winging it. Figuring it out as I go along.”
“You know, after all the work we did with the embryos, the genetics, the calculations and the modelling, I think learning to deal with these children has been the hardest job of all.”
“I’d agree with that.”
“I mean, there’s no set formula, is there?” she said. “Things that work one day don’t work the next. They’re constantly testing boundaries – both mine and theirs – and the mood swings… it just goes on and on.”
“I can’t wait for them to have kids of their own one day. I’m going to sit back and laugh.”
Arsha seemed to stare off into space for a second. “That would be amazing to see, wouldn’t it?”
The children returned amid a clatter of footsteps and they fanned out around the campfire, sitting cross-legged as we loaded them with plates full of Arsha’s mash. They ate from their laps, cups of water at their sides, stuffing forkfuls of dinner into their mouths while the synthetics – Ellinan, Mish, Arsha and myself – watched on.
“Tell us another story, Brant!” Myron said between bites. “One about the desert.”
I exchanged a weary glance with Arsha, who smiled back knowingly. I’d made the mistake of relating one of my adventures with the Marauders to the children recently, and now it was hard to get a moment’s peace – they wanted to hear more and more.
“I think you’ve heard them all by now, Myron.”
“Then tell us an old one again,” Chidi said, her wide eyes fixed upon me from across the fire.
I sighed. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.” I searched my memory as I considered what might make a suitable story to tell them, something that would be light on violence and which wouldn’t scare them too much. There wasn’t much to pick from outside those boundaries. Most of my encounters with the Marauders had been vicious, blood-curdling affairs that were not fit for the ears of most adults, let alone children. The stories I’d told previously had been heavily sanitised, their worst parts omitted or toned down to a more digestible level.
Finally I said, “Yeah, all right. I’ve got it. I think this is one you haven’t heard.”
There were cheers all round, and Loren got up and scurried around the fire to sit at my elbow. A front row seat to the show.
“Well, there came a time when I found a nice quiet city out there to hide in. It was really quite pretty, y’know. There were a lot of beautiful old churches there that hadn’t been bombed or fallen over–”
“What’re churches?” Chidi said.
I looked helplessly at Arsha. “Uh… pretty buildings.”
“Oh.”
“So in one particularly lonely corner of this city there was a small and very old one of those pretty buildings with a little white spire on its roof, and it had very colourful pictures in its windows.”
“Who drew the pictures?” Atlas said.
“I don’t know, Atlas. Someone made them a very long time ago. Anyway, underneath this church was a quiet and dark little cellar that kept me hidden from the Marauders. I made myself very cosy there, wandering out to climb up onto the spire once every day to keep an eye out for Marauders. After I spent a week or so in the cellar I decided it was a good sp
ot to stay. Nice and comfy, away from trouble. I figured they wouldn’t find me there.
“But that’s what you learn out there in the wasteland – just when you think you’re safe, it all falls down around your ears.”
“I bet the Marauders find him,” Myron whispered to Ellinan beside him.
“I heard them outside one morning, out in the street. Marauders.” Myron nodded knowingly to himself. “They were using their scanners and they could tell I was close. They bashed their way into the building across the street, and then I heard them in the church above.”
“You were trapped!” Loren said.
“Not so fast, Loren! There was a tunnel leading out of the back of the cellar, which was why I chose it. I never hid in a place with no way out.
“So the tunnel came out in an alley nearby, and I ran and ran and ran, through one alleyway after another, trying to lose them. But they were tracking me, and they kept following.”
“What did they look like?” Myron said.
“There were three of them, and they had carvings on their cheeks like all Marauders have.” I made swirling motions on my face. “Ugly suckers. Heads like donkey butts.”
They laughed. “Like the donkeys in the picture books?” Atlas said.
“Yeah, but uglier. Anyway, they had me outnumbered and outgunned. In fact, I only had one little knife, not enough to take out all three of them. Eventually I came to a spot where I could go no further. They had me cornered. So I did the only thing I could – I climbed. Up and up, along the side of a building and onto a rickety old tower that looked like it might fall over any minute.
The Seeds of New Earth Page 15