Transport 2_The Flood

by Phillip P. Peterson

  “Go on in!” Marlene spurred him on.

  Slowly, Russell climbed the two steps up to the entrance, squeezing past Katrina, who patted him on the back. Dr. Lindwall came up to him as he took off his surgical gloves. He smiled and held out his hand. Russell grasped it.

  “Congratulations, Harris. Go on through. Ellen is waiting. And so is someone else.”

  He hardly looked at the doctor and dropped his hand. “I could really do with a cigarette right now,” murmured Lindwall, as Russell pushed past him.

  Russell stepped into the treatment room, where Ellen was lying in bed. She looked exhausted. A blood vessel had obviously burst in her right eye; he couldn’t see any white. But she was smiling. In her arms she was holding a little white bundle. Just a little corner of pink-colored skin peeped out from the cover. Russell could see a tiny, closed eye.

  Slowly, mouth agape, he walked around the bed. He knew he should have been paying attention to Ellen, but he couldn’t help himself. He pulled back the white blanket and a tiny little arm stretched out toward him. He stroked the delicate skin gently with his index finger. He could feel a lump in his throat, and had to fight back the tears.

  “Your son!” whispered Ellen.

  My son!

  Little fingers closed around his finger and held tight, as if they didn’t want to let go again.

  The damn burst and Russell started to cry.

  “Jim!” he whispered.

  Chapter 8

  Marlene sifted through the papers in her tray; they were minutes from the last colony meeting. She squinted slightly as she tried to decipher Robert Cashmore’s handwriting. After reading through the first page, she took a fountain pen made of hard redwood out of the coffee-cup-turned-pen-holder, dipped it into the ink that had been made from water and titanium oxide by the colony’s chemist, and wrote her initials in the bottom right-hand corner of the page.

  The paper was as yellow as antique parchment, but it was the best they could do with the wood chippings on this planet.

  It irritated Marlene that they had created a completely new social order here, and yet simply couldn’t manage without bureaucracy. After one of the first colony meetings, Dorothy Moore had challenged the legitimacy of the decision to clear part of the nearby forest, although the matter had been voted on. The argument had become so heated that Marlene had decided to keep minutes of future meetings and records of the resolutions that were adopted. Two months later she had run out of paper. But once again, Dr. Cashmore proved himself to be extremely innovative. Then, a few months later, most of the pens they still had from Earth ran out. Lee Shanker had come up with the wooden fountain pen solution.

  Just as Marlene had signed off the last page, there was a knock at the door of the wooden barrack, which served as the colony’s seat of government. Based on another far-distant seat of government, this one had been given the tongue-in-cheek name of “The Brown House”. This is where they held their weekly council meetings and there were two desks where the members of the council could work.

  “Come in!”

  The door opened and Chris Neaman stepped inside. Like Ben Hawke, he had never found a new role for himself in the colony, and still saw himself as a soldier.

  “Hi Marlene. Do you have a minute?”

  “I’ve got more than a minute if you give me a second to file these papers.”

  Chris sat down on one of the two wooden chairs in front of Marlene’s desk and fiddled with his coarsely woven sweatshirt. Although they were taken good care of, many of the uniforms they had come with had fallen apart long ago, and the spinning wheel that Albert had made, together with Sammy Yang’s improvised loom, was increasingly put to use. Then it was up to every settler to sew their own clothes from the fabric. Five years ago, Donald Bell had managed to produce a multi-strand yarn from an indigenous plant, which they called “hemp” due to its resemblance to the plant on Earth. Since then, knitting had become an unavoidable pastime. Marlene had found it hard to suppress a grin when she had spotted even the rugged lone wolf Ernie swearing in front of his hut as he struggled with two knitting needles.

  Marlene took the pieces of paper and reached into a little wooden box. She groaned when she noticed it was empty.

  “Everything okay?” asked Chris.

  Marlene leaned over the empty box. “We’ve run out of paper clips.”

  “I can run and get you some more from the warehouse.”

  “I think those were the last ones! Another thing we’ve run out of.”

  Chris shrugged. “I guess we’ll survive a lack of paperclips. And anyway, those things are just bent wire. Surely our engineers will be able to come up with something.”

  “They’re busy with more important things,” said Marlene. She punched the papers with a hole punch and filed them in a dog-eared folder that had also seen better days.

  She returned the folder to the shelf and leaned back in the leather chair. “What can I do for you, Chris?”

  The tall and lean soldier stroked his thick beard. “I’m worried about the observation post in the valley.”

  Marlene was surprised. “But just last week we increased the number of lookouts to four.”

  “The attacks on the barrier are becoming more frequent. Recently it was at least three per shift, so that I’m starting to worry about our supply of ammunition. Yesterday, Eliot Sargent also saw four creatures that we’ve never seen before roaming around the edge of the forest. And they didn’t look friendly.”

  Marlene shook her head. “Thanks to the depot we were supposed to set up on Russell’s Planet, we’ve got enough ammunition to last a hundred years. I’m not worried about that. But the fact that so many creatures are starting to come up to the post is strange.”

  “If this goes on . . .”

  Marlene waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t want to speculate what it might mean. There’s no point.” She reached for the radio that was lying on a shelf next to her and pressed the speaker button.

  “Infirmary, Wolfe here, please report.”

  There was a brief pause, then she heard the voice of Dr. Lindwall crackling through the loudspeaker.

  “It’s not a good time, can I get back to you?”

  “No. I need to know if Jenny is with you.”

  “Yes, she’s sitting here at the microscope analyzing plant fibers.”

  “Do you need her right now?”

  “No, shall I send her over?

  “Yes.”

  Without another word, the doctor broke off the connection. Marlene turned back to Neaman. “We should talk about this with our biologist.”

  Chris nodded, and there was a knock at the door.

  “That was quick,” murmured Marlene. “Come in!”

  But it wasn’t Jenny Baldwin, it was Drew Potter. She hesitated at the door. “Is this a bad time?” she asked shyly.

  “We were expecting someone else. Is it urgent?” Marlene only noticed now that Drew had a black eye. Ben must have been hitting her again. She had tried to talk about it with Drew on several occasions, but Drew had always evaded her questions. Some time ago she had thought about stepping in, but what was the use if Drew denied everything?

  Still she asked carefully: “Is everything okay?”

  Drew nodded. “Great.”

  Marlene hadn’t expected to hear anything different. Drew was an adult. She had to decide for herself what she could put up with.

  “I carried out a few geological studies that I’d like to discuss with you,” Drew continued.

  “Does it have to do with the lines in the canyon?”

  The geologist nodded again. “I analyzed stone samples from the area.”

  Marlene waited for Drew to continue, but she seemed to be waiting to be prompted. “And?”

  “The entire southern half of the canyon seems to have been under water until relatively recently.”

  “Yes, you suspected as much when we met you in the canyon.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been ab
le to establish that it was just thirty years ago, so around ten years before we got here. It also seems to be a cyclical problem.”

  “You mean, the pass is under water every few dozen years?”

  “Something like that. I can’t quite make sense of it.” Marlene could hear the exasperation in her voice.

  “Could it have to do with severe weather conditions? Big rainstorms that sometimes transform the pass into a torrential river? Could that be an explanation?”

  Drew shrugged. “That would look different. I can’t explain it. I’ve never seen anything quite like it on Earth.”

  “And what do you suggest now?”

  “I would like to analyze the stones in the lowlands. A couple of miles away from the exit.”

  “But you already carried out research in the lowlands.”

  Drew sniffed. “That was just about finding oil and other crude materials. I didn’t have a chance to do any comprehensive field research.”

  “Well, I think we’ve got more pressing problems than scientific studies,” Chris Neaman piped up.

  Drew turned red. Probably she was embarrassed; Marlene had never seen the scientist angry.

  “I have to agree with Chris. An expedition to the lowlands would be very dangerous. It would be difficult to defend ourselves in the jungle, not least because the number of animal sightings near the observation post has increased dramatically lately.”

  “Animal sightings?” Chris protested. “Last week they nearly had us for breakfast. You weren’t there in person.”

  Marlene raised her hand to pacify him. “Yes, it was close. But I don’t want to spread panic in the colony. And since then we’ve strengthened the observation post.”

  “Sure, but . . .”

  The door swung open wide, and Jenny Baldwin burst into the hut. Neaman gave a start and swiveled round.

  “Have you heard the news?”

  “Heard what news?” asked Marlene sternly. She didn’t like being ambushed in this way.

  “About Russell!”

  “What’s up with Russell?” asked Marlene.

  “Cancer . . . three months,” said Jenny, practically tripping over her own words.

  Marlene needed a few seconds to steady herself. She blinked at the biologist.

  “What do you mean by three months. You’re not trying to tell me . . .” Marlene fell silent as she took in Jenny’s expression. “Oh my god!”

  Marlene leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  Three months! Then I’ll lose a good friend!

  She could hardly remember how contemptuous she had felt towards him when they first met. But when it had come to setting up the colony, there was hardly anyone who had worked as hard as Russell. First, he had earned her respect, friendship followed of its own accord. He was one of the first people Marlene turned to when everything got too much for her, and he had always been able to buoy her spirits. In turn, she had come to his defense in the early years, when animosity toward him still ran high. And now he was going to die of this pointless illness? Marlene didn’t want to believe it.

  They had all been relatively young when they had got here, apart from Albert, who was now seventy-three years old, but still in excellent health and with a ready grin on his face. Apart from Jim Rogers, nobody had died so far. There were hardly any illnesses here. They had been able to identify virus-like organisms in the animals, but they didn’t affect human DNA. Most of their work was very physical, and so the colonists were generally in robust health, give or take the occasional minor accident. Over the last twenty years, Marlene had completely blocked out the fact that something as horrible as a fatal form of cancer even existed.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Jenny nodded. “There’s nothing here to treat it with. Dr. Lindwall says he isn’t able to produce chemotherapeutic substances. He can administer morphine in the final stages, but that’s it.”

  “Who else knows about it?” asked Marlene.

  “Russell and his family, Dr. Lindwall, and now us. I wasn’t actually supposed to tell anyone,” the biologist admitted sheepishly.

  Typical. Jenny’s a gossip. The whole colony will know by this evening.

  “I actually wanted to talk about a problem at the observation post, but I think we’ll leave it for later. I’m not in the mood now.”

  “But . . .” protested Chris.

  Marlene came around the table and laid a hand on Neaman’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now I’m going to see Russell.”

  Chapter 9

  “Wait up.”

  Ernie Lawrence turned around. His friend Grant Dillon, who had been stumbling along a few feet behind him, had stopped to sit down on a big rock at the side of the path. His backpack slid from his shoulders.

  “What’s the problem now?” asked Ernie. If they carried on like this, they would never reach their destination.

  Grant loosened the laces on his left boot. “I’ve got a stone in my boot again.”

  Ernie remained standing on the dirt track, arms folded. “Your own fault. I don’t know anyone who ties their laces as carelessly as you. You need to tie them much tighter. No wonder you’re constantly whining.”

  Grant shook out the boot and put it back on. “But it’s kinda dumb we have to walk so much here. Every time one of the tractors conks out, we have to walk four miles to the fields just to repair a jammed valve or some other minor thing,” he complained.

  “You’re welcome to build yourself a hut next to the fields, then you won’t have to walk at all anymore. Be glad we’re getting some exercise.”

  Ernie had never been able to sit still for long. He had felt at home in New California right from the start. There was always something to do, whether it was working on the fields or building a new hut. Life was harder, and there were no luxuries here, but Ernie had never minded, because in many ways life here was also less complicated than on Earth. After they were stranded, he had soon started getting along with Russell and the other “traitors” and taken their side. But he knew that Grant had seen things differently at first. The lanky mechanic, who was not the most talented at his profession, had left behind friends and plans for the future on Earth; in the beginning, he would have liked to murder Russell. It had taken him years to feel at home—which probably had something to do with getting married to Sarah Deming from the team of scientists. In the end, he had even voted in favor of blowing up the transporter on Mars, destroying all hope of ever getting home. Since then, together with Lee and Albert, he had been responsible for maintaining the colony’s vehicles and machines, some of which were now practically beyond repair. It was to fix a broken tractor that they were now on their way to the fields. As on many previous occasions, Ernie was accompanying his friend to help carry the heavy tools. But if they had to stop every few feet, they would never get there.

  “Are you done already, or do you want me to carry you too?”

  “I’m ready. Chill out, will you?”

  Grant snatched up his backpack and got back on his feet. “It’s really dumb they didn’t give us a jeep.”

  “They’re all in use.”

  Slowly they walked through the forest of giant redwoods toward the fields in the west. They had brought the jeeps with them from Russell’s Planet. It hadn’t been easy, they’d had to be completely dismantled in order to fit in the transporter. Then they had converted some into tractors, which were needed for working the fields. Two of them were used to transport people and materials to the observation post at the canyon exit, while the rest were nearly always undergoing repairs in the workshop. Recently, one of the cylinders had blown and since then, Grant and Lee had been busting their asses trying to build a replacement. Luckily, the Martin JLTVs were otherwise easy to maintain. The number of electronic components was limited and even after those broke, the jeeps were still fit to drive.

  They had reached a junction in the middle of the forest that marked about half the distance between the colony and the
fields, which were a good six miles away. A small path veered off from the dirt road to the right, and ended after several feet at a clearing, which was already in view. In the middle of the clearing, untouched for years, was the alien transporter.

  Ernie shook his head at the sight of the weird machine with which they had reached this planet twenty years ago. “Whenever I see the transporter, I always expect some eight-legged monster to come jumping out of it.”

  Grant turned around and looked down the little path to the clearing. “Yeah, I still find that thing creepy.”

  The alien artifact sat there calmly on the mossy ground like a giant black pearl, surrounded by mile-high trees.

  “I hope I never have to step back in that thing,” said Ernie. The mere thought of it sends a chill down my spine.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if it could take me back to Earth.”

  “You know that’s not going to happen. Personally there’s nothing I really miss, except for a juicy steak of course.”

  Meat! I haven’t eaten any meat for twenty years. How I would love to eat a steak or a burger again!

  They had brought seeds with them, and some of the indigenous plants were edible, but the animals of New California were inedible due to their different metabolisms. Ernie had once tried a piece of grilled wotan, and then thrown up for hours. The soya-like substance that Igor had compressed into a burger tasted like lukewarm cardboard and didn’t even begin to resemble the flavor of meat. Since then Ernie had been forced to become vegetarian—like everyone else in the colony.

  “Did you actually vote in favor of destroying the sphere on Mars?” asked Grant.

  Ernie nodded. “Dressel said the things posed a serious threat to Earth—that they might destroy it. So good riddance.”

  “But don’t you sometimes miss your old life?”

  Ernie laughed. “I didn’t have a life outside of the company. My term of service was almost over and I had no idea what I wanted to do in civilian life. I guess for me, the only options would have been some kind of security job or becoming a mercenary for Blackriver. Here I’ve got my old company and my family around me. Life is simpler, clearer. And real men are needed here. I like it here, I don’t want to leave.” He gave Grant a slap on the shoulder. “And don’t tell me you see things differently. What kind of life would have been waiting for you after your discharge? Working as a third-rate mechanic in some garage? Earning a pittance and living in a tiny apartment?”