Out of Sight (Progenitor Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  She leaned back and gazed around at the unbelievable amount of living stuff. In all her sixteen years, the most vegetation she’d ever seen had been two potted plants, one of which had turned out to be plastic. ‘Vegetables’ in food didn’t count, since most of what she ate came from slime. On the rare occasion she’d gotten ‘real’ vegetables, they’d been produced at hydroponics farms where they grew massive, mutant versions of what those plants had once been. Her science teacher claimed carrots had once been long and thin, not discs the size of dinner plates, but she didn't believe him. Torrent even told her that the Earth Government had to build machines to clean the air since too many plants had died off or been replaced with city.

  Thinking about Torrent made her blush again at the idea of him wandering out of the jungle and finding her lounging around in her underwear. Though it had none of the decorative frilliness of the stuff worn by Magdalena’s girls, she kinda felt like one of them, sitting brazenly out in the open with so little on. She clung to the notion that, unlike them, she didn’t want to. Sima wasn’t showing off her body, she had no choice.

  And really, what difference did it make? It’s not as if anyone existed here to see her, and even if they did, she knew nothing about survival in the woods, so she’d probably be dead soon. She could take care of herself on the streets just fine, but this place went way beyond her skills. At soft digital pattering, she sat forward and held her left arm up to read the screen.

  ‹Do not give up.›

  “You can read my mind?”

  ‹No, but your slowing heart rate and posture indicate an increased negative emotional state.›

  “Just thinking I’m going to be dead soon is all. Not that I wanna die. I’m a city kid. I don’t know anything about living in the stupid woods.”

  ‹Shelter: That cave. Food: those fruit pods. Water: you’ve been swimming. Collect some of those pods and move them to the cave. Use it as your base of exploration.›

  “Okay.” Sima stood, dusted flaky bits and soil from her rear end, and walked four steps before stopping to gaze around at alien trees that looked the same in every direction. “Umm. I have no idea where the cave is.”

  ‹I have it marked as a waypoint. Follow the yellow arrow.›

  Sima looked down at her forearm. The holographic display had become like a compass, with a bright yellow triangle floating by her wrist. She turned in place until it pointed straight ahead, then made her way into the woods. Her mind compared the cave to the Crash, and she laughed.

  ‹What is funny?›

  A grin curled her lip. “I’ve spent a lot of time underground, but I didn’t join the Underground.”

  ‹I do not understand.›

  Laughing, Sima walked around trees and ducked low-hanging fruit pods while explaining to a computer bracelet about the Separatists and the street gang loyal to their cause.

  I’m talking to a piece of jewelry that I can’t take off. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. At least this one won’t blow up.

  14

  Last Breath

  Her Omnicomputer bantered with her as she walked, chatting via the constant patter of text appearing on a holographic screen at the underside of her arm. She thought of it like she used a super primitive interface to have a conversation with a human being, as if she’d made electronic contact with someone from three hundred years ago before holographic displays and virtual reality had gone mainstream.

  Heh. I used to call text primitive, but guess who’s running around the jungle.

  All of a sudden, the yellow triangle floating over her left forearm glided counterclockwise until it pointed diagonally off to the left. Hmm. That’s odd. She peered in that direction, wondering if the bracelet had been leading her in a not-straight line to avoid an obstruction, or if something went wrong with its navigation ability.

  About a hundred yards off, a patch of light-colored wood caught her eye where a tree had cracked in half. More damage to leaf-tendrils and branches spread from either side, suggesting something large had crashed through the trees. Another lifeboat came down there! Her gaze snapped from one torn up leaf to another. That’s definitely a crash path! She gasped. I’m not alone!

  Sima ran as fast as the foliage would allow, grimacing whenever a thin vine whipped across her shins or stomach. Desperation mounted in her heart with each delay caused by thick growth, mud, or fallen trees. Perhaps the bracelet had picked up a signal from the capsule and pointed her at it? The yellow arrow continued to guide her in the same direction the damage path had ripped in the foliage.

  A few minutes of desperate scrambling later, she stopped short at the edge of a stream sunken four feet down in a channel flanked by dangling tube-shaped strands of luminous, purple plants. Both edges curved down, overgrown with the light-emitting plant. A fall would guarantee having to follow the current until the gully became shallow enough for her to escape. She tested the edge with her toes, finding the glowing plants fragile and slippery when broken.

  No way I’m climbing this if I fall in.

  She stood tall and peered into the trees on the other side. An edge of gleaming white metal caught the sun not too far ahead. An outline of human technology—another lifeboat—stood out unmistakable from the flora. The stream went too far in either direction for her patience. A fall would take too long to recover from. Something told her she had to get to the other lifeboat now.

  It’s a shorter gap than the jump between the Harmony Towers.

  Her body trembled. How could leaping a tiny drop scare her more than a forty-story fall? After a few steps back, she sprinted and jumped across, landing with the grace of the forest sylph she had become. She kept her momentum and continued at a light run until she emerged from the woods into a large, oval-shaped clearing with trees on all sides.

  The second lifeboat sat at the end of a shorter impact trench, suggesting it had fallen at a much steeper trajectory than her lifeboat. Twisted, mangled metal at the far left corner had no traces of dirt or vegetation clinging to the damage. Whatever smashed it happened before it landed. The ship hit something… or something hit the ship. Her thrill faded to terror, expecting the occupants would be dead. I… gotta know.

  Sima crept up to the door and crouched. Her escape capsule had landed with a rearward tilt, which elevated the exit. This one came to rest in the opposite manner, forcing her to spend a few minutes digging out the door with her bare hands. As soon as she exposed the entire bottom of the hatch, she stood and grabbed the handle. It didn’t budge, so she added a second hand, gritting her teeth and grunting as she pulled. With a grind of metal, it broke loose and opened. She braced her foot on the wall and pushed the door inward. The expected blast of ice-cold never came.

  Warm, muggy air greeted her, hotter inside than out. A crimped beam pressed down in the middle of the ceiling, along with a ‘waterfall’ of mangled metal that divided the chamber like a wall. Of the two stasis pods in the lifeboat, the farther one vanished under the enormous pile of ceiling bits, wires, and scrap metal. The closer pod looked intact, though the windows had fogged to the point of opacity, except for one small hand pressed against the transparent plastic from inside. The occupant couldn’t have been older than nine or so.

  “Oh, no.” Sima gathered her hands to her mouth and cried. Morbid curiosity pulled her closer. Paradoxically to the heat inside the escape capsule, the stasis pod windows had a coating that resembled frost. She set her hand against the dusty crystals, which didn’t feel cold, and brushed away a clear swath.

  Two small children inside curled up facing each other. The girl looked about six, scrawny, pale, and blonde. The boy had rich brown skin and appeared a little older than the girl. His hand pressed against the transparent cover as if he’d been trying to open their coffin before he gave out. Both of them had been stuffed in the stasis pod in their underpants, as the Earth Government Security Force had done with Sima, though the girl had no top.

  A lack of blood or visible injury did little to make the
sight of two tiny bodies less horrible.

  Sima stared at the girl, overcome by a memory of being petrified at the entrance of the boarding tunnel. She’d seen the little girl before, barely conscious over the shoulder of an EGSF officer carrying her. The child hadn’t appeared at all frightened, even smiled like she couldn’t wait to get on the ship. Little had she known how the trip would end. Sima draped herself over the pod window, and wept.

  What were their last thoughts? As terrified as she had been about leaving Earth, she couldn’t imagine what the experience must’ve been like for little kids. Not long ago, she’d have looked at these kids with a scowl, hating them for being tiny and adorable, muscling in on her begging territory. But the sight of them dead broke something inside her heart. Despair exploded into rage.

  Sima shrieked curses at the smashed ceiling. “Who gave you the right to do this? What did we ever do to your perfect society? You lied! It’s not a project! You rounded us all up and shot us into space like trash!” She pounded on the pod’s window. “They’re just kids!”

  A faint knock startled her. The boy’s eyes had opened and he stared at her through the foggy glass as if he’d seen a ghost.

  She gawked in stunned silence for a few seconds before yelling, “You’re alive!”

  The boy sat up, slapping the lid. “Help! We can’t get out.”

  Sima pointed at the head end. “Rip up the pillow. Hit the red button.”

  He crawled around, jostling the girl, who also sat up.

  “I told you someone would find us.” The girl flashed a dazed smile, her eyes fluttering as if she teetered on the verge of losing consciousness again.

  “I’m going to get you out.” Sima patted the lid near the girl. “Stay awake.”

  Velcro ripping preceded the sound of a small fist banging on plastic.

  “It’s broke,” yelled the boy. “The button ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

  Sima stood on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. Sure enough, he slapped at the red mushroom-shaped button that had released her. They’ve been trapped in there for two days. She ran to the foot end, finding the console dark. Bent ceiling panels, exposed wires, and random bits of metal dangled from overhead. Dark gaps in the junk flickered with the occasional spark. No power.

  Reason fled. She grabbed the motorized lift arm and attempted to force it open by hand. The task felt as though she tried to wrestle a stone statue. The boy sat still, watching Sima punch, kick, and strain against the machinery for a few minutes.

  “We are gonna run out of air.” He put an arm around the girl. “She’s been sick.”

  “No.” Sima growled, clasping her hands together and bashing at the transparent panel. The crack of plastic echoed over and over. I can’t let them die. No way. I can’t bear to watch that. She backed off, rubbing her sore hands. I can’t leave them either.

  “Break the glass!” shouted the girl before lapsing into a coughing fit.

  Sima spun around, nearly slipping on the condensation-covered floor. She ran to the storage cabinets and ripped open one door after the next. As with her lifeboat, the ‘emergency supply’ cabinets were all empty.

  “Cheap bastards!” she screamed.

  She looked up, eyeing the damaged ceiling near the middle of the pod where the metal crimped down. Maybe a strut or hunk of debris would be heavy enough to crack the plastic windows. Before she could take a step, a splash of bright red caught her eye on the left. A box on the wall bore the word ‘fire’ in plain lettering. Sima rushed across the room and tore it open, finding a fire suppression cylinder and a beautiful, shiny all-metal single-bladed axe with a rubberized handle.

  As if claiming the Holy Grail, she plucked the weapon from its clips and beheld it. The composite blade weighed like heavy plastic, lighter than it appeared for its size, with most of the mass concentrated at the head end. She smiled back at the kids, but her elation died when the girl slumped over. The boy blinked, swaying side to side.

  “You tried,” he mumbled.

  “No!” yelled Sima.

  She scrambled to run to the pod, but slipped and landed on her butt before sliding, skin squeaking, into the side of their stasis chamber with her legs in the air. Ignoring the pain, she clambered to her feet, waving the axe at him. “Get to the pillow end.”

  The boy dragged the limp rag-doll of a girl with him to the top, and curled an arm over her protectively.

  No. No. No. Sima raised the axe and brought it down with all the strength she could muster. The blade glanced off the plastic each time with a sharp click. Again and again, she chopped, leaving scratches and scuff marks in the thick material. “Please, no. Come on.” She bashed it six more times, aiming for the same spot, but succeeding only in making a bigger white starburst as the curved blade skipped away. Another three swings left her winded. She glanced at the kids inside the pod while pausing to catch her breath.

  The boy had collapsed over the girl, neither one moving.

  15

  The Other Side

  Defeated, Sima slid to her knees, sobbing.

  The axe clattered to the floor in front of her knees. Tears streaming from her eyes, she stared at the useless thing. For all the sharpness of its edge, it kept bouncing off the window. I hate this place. This is too cruel. A few breaths later, her focus settled on the opposite side of the head—a four-inch spike shaped like an elongated pyramid.

  She let off a primal roar and sprang to her feet, seizing the axe in both hands. They’re not gonna die. Not in front of me. Her weary arms trembled as she raised the weapon over her head. Desperation flowed along every fiber of her muscles. With a banshee shriek, she drove the point into the same spot she’d been striking with the curved blade. It caught rather than glanced, sticking into the plastic. She rocked it back and forth to free it, staggering when it came loose. A quick peek at the two little figures slumped inside the pod triggered a surge of adrenaline. Again, she brought the axe down with a deep thud, three inches of spike punching a hole in the pod window.

  I’m gonna get them out. I have to get them out. I can’t stop.

  She pushed the axe like the tiller of a boat, side to side, cracking the plastic. Yes! Come on. Come on. Sima jerked it loose and swung again at a spot nearby, then another one, creating the outline of a larger circle. After three more swings, a chunk of plastic fell in, creating an opening large enough for her arm.

  “Hey! Come on. Wake up. Breathe!” She yelled into the hole.

  Neither child moved.

  Eyes blurred with tears, Sima launched into a fury, swinging over and over at the general vicinity of the damned window. With a hole to aim for, she used the blade side, which easily sliced into the vulnerable edge. Clattering strikes of titanium on plastic rang off the walls of the lifeboat. When she stopped moving, she gawked at the ruin of the entire right lower panel, fragments of the half-inch thick resin glimmered like ice crystals on the white padding.

  She dropped the axe and leaned in, stretching to reach the kids. Up on tiptoe, she managed to get her hand on a tiny foot. Patting and squeezing the girl, she yelled, “Wake up! Please… wake up.”

  “Mmm,” moaned the little girl.

  The boy stirred. He blinked dazedly at her and coughed.

  Sima slumped limp on the cushions, overwhelmed with relief.

  “Hey, you’re inside,” muttered the boy.

  “Come on, get out of there,” said Sima.

  He crawled over and grabbed her arm. She gripped the girl’s ankle and dragged her close, slipping her other arm under the child and easing her out of the pod. Within a second of her standing upright with the girl in her arms, the boy clamped onto her. His weight pulled her to her knees. She fell sideways and wound up seated on the floor with her back against the pod, two little kids holding on for dear life.

  Her arms throbbed. Soreness spread around from the base of her neck into her ribs and down to her hands. She could only sit limp while the children clung to her. The boy trembled in terror, but his f
ace appeared calm. The girl coughed and shivered, seeming too weak to cry. A resonant wheeze in her chest, like someone crushing bubble packing, accompanied every breath.

  “You really broke it.” The boy’s rich brown eyes grew wide and wet. “I thought we were gonna die. I was going to sleep.”

  “No, you’re not. I got you.” Sima found a little strength and wrapped her arms around them. “You need water… as soon as I can move.”

  “We’re not supposed to trust grown-ups,” whispered the girl. “But you saved us.”

  Sima sniffled. “I’m not a grown-up. I’m sixteen.”

  “That’s old,” said the girl.

  Both kids jumped at the sudden start of a laboring mechanical whine. A groan of protesting metal followed two seconds later. The entire wall of twisted metal dividing the room in half shuddered and rattled, a few small scraps of metal clattering to the floor. After a few seconds, the whirring halted.

  Sima looked up at the ceiling. Debris around where the large girder pierced the white tiles wobbled as though something had moved it.

  “Help!” yelled a muted child’s voice from the pile of rubble.

  Oh, no. Another one? Sima struggled to stand, but the kids held her down like ten-ton weights. “Hey, I need you two to let me up. There’s more kids in here.”

  “Just one.” The boy slid away from her and sat on the floor. “They stuck me and Lissa together ’cause we’re small. He’s bigger.”

  Lissa tightened her grip, shivering. “Don’t go.”

  Sima grasped the child by the wrists and eased her grip open. “I’m not going away. I have to help the other boy.”

  The gaunt little girl sniffled, but complied. She slid down to her feet and took a step back. New, white underpants the EGSF gave her almost slipped off her insubstantial frame. She looked like many of the unwanted Outcast kids roaming the streets. Despite the inside of the lifeboat being hot and humid, the little one shivered. Her breathing picked up speed, accompanied by a faint crackle of mucous. Sima plucked sticky sensor pads from the girl’s forehead and chest and tossed them aside.