The Seeds of New Earth

by Mark R. Healy

  “Yes, looking after children. Because that’s the most important job there is right now. That’s more important than anything else.”

  “But we don’t need Arsha, Mish and me all doing it. I’d be more use out there, helping you.”

  “Brant,” Arsha said. As I turned, she nodded almost imperceptibly at me. “Let him do it.”

  The boy stood a little taller and straighter, roused by the possibility of getting his way.

  I sighed. “All right,” I said, and Ellinan’s face lit up. “You can help.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “I won’t let you down.”

  I smiled. “I know you won’t.”

  It was the happiest I’d seen him in months, and although I wasn’t totally enthralled with the idea of him roaming around the countryside, I was glad that this responsibility seemed to have restored some of his spirit.

  He began to busy himself about the living room, gathering his little pack and stuffing a flashlight inside, when I held up my hand.

  “Okay, slow down, Ell. It’s getting a bit late in the day to get started right now. Night’s coming early with that smog out there.”

  He stopped, crestfallen.

  “First thing tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll draw up some plans with you tonight, if you like. Maybe you can start thinking about some places we can start looking before then.”

  The idea seemed to appeal to him. “Sure.”

  He left the room, and Arsha waited for me to rejoin her over by the window.

  “Let him go but keep him close,” she suggested quietly. “Let him feel like he’s contributing. The two of you together can search faster than one alone, anyway.”

  “With creatures roaming the city? I’m not convinced.”

  “If there are more of those things out there, it’s even more important that we find somewhere to hide. Somewhere we can defend. Two people can search faster than one.”

  “Yeah, all right. I’ll keep him close. If there’s any sign of trouble out there, he won’t be coming out again.”

  “Whatever the case, you have a day, maybe two. I don’t want to stay here any longer than that.”

  23

  Making our way across the northern suburbs under leaden skies the next morning, we avoided lingering in open spaces, scurrying from building to building and keeping under cover where possible, the return of the aerial surveillance drone never far from our thoughts. I led the way, and whenever I turned, Ellinan was no more than a few paces behind. He obeyed my instructions to the letter and maintained a serious and focussed attitude, for which I was grateful.

  Despite all this, he did seem to view the excursion as an adventure of sorts. I sensed excitement simmering beneath his stoic facade of control, as if this was an opportunity for him to immerse himself in an experience not unlike the fantasy worlds of his beloved video games.

  “This is like Future Combat Sixteen,” he whispered over my shoulder as we paused at the foot of a suburban shopping mall. We’d spent much of the morning crossing streets that dipped and rose, snaking their way across a series of residential areas, and now we’d reached higher ground. From this vantage point I could see down to the freeway for the first time in a few hours. I watched through the binoculars for any signs of movement out there while Ellinan huddled at my back.

  “What are you on about?” I said.

  “Future Combat Sixteen. You ever play it?”

  Every week without fail, Ellinan would ask if I’d played this game or that: Starforger, Racing Wars, Smash Football. I’d never played any of them. In fact, I’d never had the time or inclination to play computer games at all. Rather than simply saying ‘No’ every time, I’d begun coming up with other answers.

  “I think I quit after episode fourteen,” I said facetiously. “Series lost its edge.”

  “You missed out. Sixteen was nuts. So good.”

  I trained the binoculars on the city and then out to the south, making out the dim shapes of buildings under the gloomy sky.

  “So what was it about?”

  “Well, it was set in this post-apocalyptic Earth where most people have been killed, and the rest are fighting for survival in the desert.”

  I let the binoculars dip. “You played this for fun?”

  “And there’s an alien species called squidlings that are trying to kill everyone. They’re the ones who blew up the planet to begin with.”

  “Right.”

  “And so anyway, you play a retired Marine – named Jack something, I think – who gets brought back for one last mission to take out the squidlings. There’s a scene where you close in on their base, and your best friend, who’s been with you through the whole game, suddenly realises he’s been injected by a squidling and that there’s an egg growing inside him.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s how they make new squidlings,” he explained carefully, as if I was a three-year-old. “Anyway, that scene is right near the end, and there’s a big showdown where you have to kill your best friend before the alien hatches out of his face, and it all happens in an underground car park in a place that looks just like this.”

  I looked out across the ruined concourse. Little suburban shops stood shoulder to shoulder, crammed in like reluctant family members posing for a photograph, their facades crumbling, windows smashed. Upturned tables and chairs littered the paved walkways, and a rotund water feature in the centre of the mall squatted dusty and broken, its curved edges chopped and pockmarked like the surface of the moon.

  “Sounds pretty awesome,” I muttered.

  “For sure.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “If you have a squidling egg pressing against the back of your eyeballs right now, I don’t want to know.” I motioned ahead. “Let’s check it out.”

  There were slim pickings in the mall, and in general it was poorly suited to human habitation. For a start, there was broken glass everywhere that would require clearing, and there was not much in the way of bedding or play spaces. Keeping the children confined would be another problem, since there were holes in walls and doors in numerous places, the legacy of countless looters from days gone by.

  Out the back we found an underground car park, an ominous parallel to Ellinan’s fictional video game world. I shined the flashlight down the ramp and into the black confines below, finding sludgy brown water and a generally dank and unhealthy aura about the place.

  “This is no good,” I said. “We can’t bring them here.”

  “I know,” Ellinan said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. We can’t stay in a mall. Malls are zombie magnets. Every zombie game I’ve ever played has malls, and there’s always zombies inside.”

  “Oh, I should have remembered,” I said. “Zombie Mall Eleven.”

  Ellinan scowled at me. “There’s no such thing. You made that up.”

  “No, seriously. It was a chart topper in Finland. You missed out.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  I was beginning to realise that finding a decent hiding place was going to be more problematic than it had at first seemed. The architectural style of the homes that had been built here steered away from basements or underground levels, preferring breezy, open-plan living spaces that were more suited to the warmer climate. The other below-ground options we’d come across were not any better than this car park – drafty, dank, and not fit for habitation.

  The ideal location that we’d envisaged, a custom made underground bunker, would be difficult to find by its very nature. Without specific knowledge of such a place, there wasn’t much chance of stumbling across one.

  It occurred to me that we might simply have to choose another house similar to the one at Somerset, but which did not have the plantation surrounding it. At least that might make it less obvious that someone was living inside.

  “So what’s the plan?” Ellinan prompted.

  “I think we head back to Somerset again, bu
t we take a different route than this morning. Check out some other places on the way.”

  “We’re going back already?”

  “Like I said, the day doesn’t last as long under this sky. It’ll be getting pretty dark by the time we get home.”

  “And tomorrow? Are we looking again?”

  “I guess so. We’ll look for one more day. After that, our time will be running short. If we’re going to move, we need to get on with it. That means choosing a place, getting it ready for the children, and then shifting them over.” I pointed out to the west. “Maybe we’ll look out there tomorrow.”

  “What’s out there?”

  “It was the more industrial side of town. Lots of factories, warehouses.” I thought of the Displacer lab, where I’d once thought I had a human body awaiting me. It had been out there, too, and would have made a nice protected bunker before it had burned down. I pushed the memory out of my mind. “It’s a bit of an extra walk, but worth a look. We might find something out there we can use.”

  “You never go out there much,” Ellinan said. “I always wanted to check out that curvy bridge, but you always said ‘no’.”

  He was a perceptive kid. “Just some bad memories out there, Ell. I had some dreams go up in smoke in that part of town.” I gave him a little smile. “I think it’s worth putting those memories aside this once, though.”

  On our way back we found more of the same, although one house in particular took Ellinan’s fancy, being the possessor of an intricately moulded plastic climbing fort in the back yard. I promised him that I would place it high on my list of suggestions to Arsha for suitable candidates, and that seemed to please him greatly.

  At one point the Grid spire in the north flared into life, and after flickering a few times, stayed constant and bright for the last half hour of our trip home.

  At Somerset we encountered Mish hauling buckets of water up from the stream, her skinny arms taut and fingers white-knuckled around the aluminium handles, a little grimace on her face as she exerted herself.

  “Need a hand?” Ellinan called.

  “No, thanks. I’ll manage.”

  I could already hear the sounds of children laughing and playing from inside the house.

  “How were the terrors?” I said.

  “Good,” she said, but a tired little smile indicated she was being generous. “They were ‘helping’ us in the garden.”

  Mish herself had obviously spent time doing the same, as her hands and knees were coated in grime. She struggled around the side of the house and I followed her, indicating for Ellinan to go inside without me.

  “Hey, let me take that,” I called, jogging to Mish’s side and reaching for a bucket.

  “I’ve got it,” she said adamantly, and carried the load by herself around the back of the house, placing the buckets down on the back path. After releasing the handles, she flexed her fingers and rubbed her hands together where the weight had left indentations in her skin.

  “You could have used the wheelbarrow,” I said.

  She brushed a lock of hair behind one ear. “I always spill it with that thing. It’s easier to carry it.”

  “Fair enough.” She began to move for the door, but I stopped her gently with a hand on her arm. “How are you doing, Mish?”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “This has been a tough week, huh?”

  “Yeah, but while you’re around, we’re safe. I know that.”

  I felt a little embarrassed by her belief in me, but it was also reassuring to know that I brought her such comfort.

  I pointed over to the nearest garden plot. “You found more gnomes?”

  “Yeah.” We walked among the raised garden beds that Arsha had built years before, and Mish bent to straighten and adjust several of the terracotta figurines she’d assembled. There were gnomes with red hats and white beards, fairies, a few animals and even a small mushroom house. All of the figurines had suffered damage and decay – the top of a hat missing here, a fairy wing missing there – but Mish had lovingly cleaned and polished every one she’d found before arranging them across the yard.

  “Who lives in the house?” I said.

  “It’s a fairy house, but the fairies only come out at night. You won’t see them now.”

  “Maybe I’ll come back tonight?”

  She smiled. “They may only be seen by those whose intentions are pure,” she said as if reciting a phrase she’d heard earlier. I wondered if she’d picked it up in one of the many books she’d read back at her home in Carthen.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping my chest with mock offense, “you’re looking at one hundred percent purity right here. I bet these fairies have never seen purity like it.”

  “Yes,” she said drily, rolling her eyes, “I’m sure they’d be shocked.”

  “What about those guys?” I said, pointing to the next raised garden, where three gnomes were lined up around a tiny clay wheelbarrow.

  “Those are the Gnome Brothers. They’re adventurers. They roam the garden looking for excitement.” She threw her hands up. “You never know where they’re going to turn up next.”

  “Crazy guys, huh?” I moved further along the garden, finding a smaller figurine that had fallen in amongst the spiny twists of a pumpkin vine. I reached down to extract it. “Here’s one that’s–”

  “No, leave her.”

  I pulled my hand back, surprised by the urgency in her voice. “Uh, okay.” Looking down, I could see that it was a gorgeously sculpted green fairy with long, flowing golden hair. One of her arms had broken off at the elbow, and there was a gouge across her waist. “Who is she?”

  “That’s the garden princess,” Mish said, but some of the playfulness had left her voice.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes. But she’s cursed.”

  I placed my fist on my hip theatrically. “Why does that always happen to princesses?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Yeah.”

  “So what’s this curse?” I tried to keep a note of levity in my voice, but Mish wasn’t being drawn into it.

  “She’s trapped in the Dark Forest, awaiting her prince.”

  “One of the Gnome Brothers, maybe? They seem like just the guys for the job.”

  “No. They can’t save her. She’s stuck in there until the curse is lifted.”

  “Well, how do we do that?”

  “No one knows.”

  “Well, it sounds like a sad fairy tale to me.”

  “Aren’t they all, until there’s a happy ending?”

  I looked away, scratching at my neck uncomfortably. Like Ellinan, her mind wandered to dark places at times. They’d been through terrible times, seen terrible things. I wished that I could find the words to dispel the gloom and uncertainty, but they wouldn’t come.

  “Brant,” she said quietly. I glanced over at her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “If you leave, I want to come with you, okay?”

  “Mish, I’m not leaving.”

  “But if something happens, and you do, I wouldn’t stay here. Okay? I wouldn’t stay.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Everything we have is here.”

  “Yeah, I know. And sure, I love Atlas and the others. But if you left, I’d go with you. I don’t care where or how far.”

  I crossed the distance between us, and put my arms around her. “It’s okay, Mish. Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.”

  “If you left, you’d tell me, right?”

  “Mish, I’m not leaving.”

  “Would you tell me?”

  “Yes, of course I would.”

  “Good.” She nestled into my shoulder.

  “Come on. Let’s see what the others are up to.”

  I led her away from the garden. Inside, we were assaulted by a maelstrom of four grubby children charging around the living room in a game of chase. Atlas sat atop Myron’s shoulders, the two of them screeching and waving their arms about a
s the girls leapt playfully out of their grasp. They came at me and I feigned terror, which delighted them no end, and only served to make them roar louder.

  Arsha appeared down the corridor, wiping at her hands and arms with a wet cloth.

  “Mayhem,” she said, rolling her eyes, but it was evident that she was enjoying the children’s exuberance. “How’d you do out there?”

  “Nothing great, to be honest. I don’t know if we’ll find something as secure as a bunker. Maybe just another house that’s away from the plantation. Wherever we choose, it’ll take some cleaning up before we can move the kids there.”

  “Sure, if that’s the best we can do, so be it.”

  Ellinan had moved over toward the sofa, and Atlas, still on Myron’s shoulders, swatted playfully at his head as they went past. They continued on and Atlas slapped his hands on the old entertainment display panel that rested on the wall. I was surprised to see the usually dark rectangle filled with luminescent static, and realised that the children must have activated it inadvertently by touch during their game. The power cells hooked up in the spare room were providing power to the house, and so this long-dormant relic of the old days had briefly been given life once again.

  “Ell, can you turn that panel off, please? It’s going to drain the juice if it’s left on.”

  Arsha dropped the cloth on the bench and began to smooth her hair back. “If only there was some content to stream down to that thing, those kids might sit still for five minutes,” she joked.

  The comment suddenly made my heart lodge in my throat, and I whirled back toward Ellinan, my finger jabbing at the screen.

  “Shut it off, now!” I roared.

  The children’s game ended abruptly and they all turned to look at me, frightened by the loud and urgent tone of my voice. Ellinan had stopped just short of the panel, his own hand raised uncertainly toward the screen. In the bottom corner, I could see a string of words in glowing blue font outlined against the static.

  Grid Connection Established.

  “Shut it off!” I yelled again, bounding over toward him. Ellinan fumbled at the side and bottom of the panel, searching for the power toggle. As I bridged the distance between us, swerving between tiny bodies, I witnessed the static seem to move and swarm, coalescing into a vaguely human shape, and I heard the fragmented sound of a male’s voice emanate from the panel unintelligibly.