Not liking how far away they’d gone, Sima got up and walked over to collect them. Copious hugs shared the blue dye, and all three attacked her with handprints and tickles. Laughing like a fool, she dragged them into the water to wash the stuff off. Soon, Lissa got tired and decided to sit neck-deep and soak while the boys resumed diving and swimming around. Sima took a seat by Lissa and listened to the girl ramble about her opinion that this jungle must have faeries.
“I think that’s why no one saw them on Earth anymore,” said Lissa, “because they came here.”
“Could be,” said Sima.
After another hour or so of playing, Austin swam up to her with a grim expression. “Sima, I smell something bad.”
Lissa sniffled and pouted at him.
“Not you,” he said. “I’m serious. On the far side. Something, uhh, smells… bad.”
“Okay. Liss. Stay here with Austin, okay?” Sima rolled around from sitting to swimming, and glided to the other side by the cliff face. After a little paddling back and forth, she caught a whiff of distinct foulness. Carrion… Dead things. She’d run into a few corpses left in alleys after gang wars or where the EGSF killed an Outcast and never bothered to clean up. The breeze carried an unmistakable stink: dead body.
She swam back over to the kids and pulled them close to the edge by where they’d entered the water. Once she got them on dry land, she looked at Austin. “You know what that smell is, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Then you know why I don’t want you kids to see it.”
“What is it?” asked Juan.
“Bad,” said Lissa.
“I’m going to go check it out in case there’s maybe some supplies. I want you to stay here, stay together, and don’t make any noise.”
“What if the monster comes?” whispered Lissa.
“I don’t think it likes the daytime.” Sima cringed. “Or we’d have seen it by now.”
The thought appeared to scare and comfort the kids at the same time.
She crossed the river again, entering the shadow of a rocky cliff topped with a fringe of cyan bushes. Loose dirt made for an easy climb. She felt foolish not having anything on, but dead people wouldn’t care and she didn’t want to be stuck wearing wet things for hours. She briefly entertained the hope it might only be a dead Aurak, but that smell… it had to be human. Sima hesitated, took a breath, and tried to steel herself for a horrible sight. She stretched up on tiptoe to peer over the top of the cliff—and gasped.
The smashed remains of a lifeboat lay strewn about a grassy clearing, ripped open and warped. It looked much bigger than the ones they’d been in, perhaps roomy enough for eight stasis pods. Remains from whoever had been in them lay scattered among the metal pieces. She gagged at the sight of a hand here, a bit of leg there, and bloody chunks mixed with shards of clear plastic. At least none of the pieces looked small enough to have come from children.
Adults? Maybe this pod had supplies. She glanced back at the kids huddled together on the riverbank. Be quick. Sima pulled herself up and ran among the carnage. The smell made her glad they’d not yet eaten anything. She clamped a hand over her mouth, half tempted to run back and grab her bra to use as a breathing mask. Vomit almost flew through her fingers when a glop that used to be inside a person squished under her foot, bursting like a balloon full of jam. The field of body parts surrounded her with dread. She sank to squat in the grass, and wept, her mind filled with visions of the starship exploding. It didn’t seem possible that a bad landing could’ve done this much damage to a large lifeboat. Whatever smashed it open like that must’ve occurred in space.
They’re all dead. We really are alone. Sima hid her face against her knees, trying to keep her outburst of sorrow quiet so the children couldn’t hear. Tears threaded down her legs. I can’t let them see me crying. I gotta let them think we’ll be okay until there’s no hiding we’re screwed.
“Come on, Seem… pull it together.” She leaned back, taking slow, deep breaths. “No big deal. Everyone else is dead. Just you and a couple kids. Don’t give up. You can at least act tough.”
Beep.
Faint pattering made her look at the small holographic screen.
‹Fifteen point six meters ahead and to the left. Take that box. It is a survival kit.›
Sima lowered her arm and followed the bracelet’s instructions. A metal case about the size of a big piece of luggage lay on its side amid a gnarled fragment of escape pod hull. Large, black letters on the top read ‘Survival Unit.’ She hefted it by the handle, hauling it with her to the only section of the lifeboat still in one piece. It resembled a massive child’s school lunchbox that had been dropped in the street and run over by a series of gee-vees.
Using the survival kit as a step, she climbed into the wreckage. Bent bolts protruded from the outlines of missing stasis pods on the floor. Of the three that had not been flung into oblivion, gore smeared the interior of two, darkened to a thick scabrous crust around a couple of fist-sized holes in the windows. Spray patterns on the wall hinted that the occupants had liquefied. The last pod’s lid appeared undamaged. It held a middle-aged woman, also in her underwear, staring into nowhere with her mouth agape.
She probably suffocated.
‹Explosive decompression.› The bracelet’s text appeared with the fluttering sound she’d come to think of almost as a voice. ‹Lifeboat hull integrity damaged while in orbit. The data recorder for this lifeboat indicates hull rupture in vacuum conditions. The occupants were sucked out into space, except for that one woman in the intact stasis pod.›
Sima gagged and let herself throw up. After spitting bile, she rasped, “I didn’t really need to know that.”
She wiped her mouth on the back of her arm and turned toward the spot where the design suggested the supply cabinets should be, but the large lifeboat’s crash landing had left them an unrecognizable jumble of metal. Judging from the scorch marks and missing doors, the pod had suffered a hull breach during or before entering the atmosphere. Sima searched every accessible opening, hoping for something to use for clothing or food. The third space she checked had five cylinders labeled ‘protein base fluid.’ Only one compartment had an intact door, ballooned outward due to the forces that sucked the air from behind it. After prying it off its hinges, she found an empty backpack as well as a metal briefcase with a bright red cross on the side.
“Score.”
The first aid kit and the protein slime bottles went into the backpack. She spotted another axe in a compartment on the opposite wall between the gore-caked pods. Sima locked eyes with the gape-mouthed dead woman as she crept over and retrieved it. The way the corpse lay in the pod with one hand raised and pointing struck her as a warning to go back. A pang of fear for the children’s safety came out of nowhere.
The cat!
She slung the backpack over her shoulder, rushed to the edge of the broken floor, and leapt to the grass. After grabbing the ponderous survival kit, she hurried in the direction of the stream. The heavy case made it awkward to run, weighing close to forty pounds, but she lugged it as fast as she could. With each step, the dread she’d return to a bloodbath grew.
Two minutes later, she skidded to a halt at the top of the ridge. The kids sat right where she’d left them, clustered on the opposite bank. Sima slouched with relief. Juan spotted her first and pointed, waving with a huge grin. Lissa bounded to her feet and moved to run into the river, but Austin held her back. Sima tossed the survival kit into the water, jumped after it, and swam, dragging her loot across. Despite its weight, the survival case floated. Sima hauled it out onto the bank a few paces from the kids, and fell to her knees.
Lissa ran into a hug. “You’re alive!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic… and where are your pants?”
“You’re not wearing pants either,” said Lissa. “Mine are wet ’cause you washed them.” Lissa frowned, pointing at a lump of cloth on the ground a short distance away.
; “Well, don’t leave them there. Come on, it’ll be dark soon. We need to get inside.” Sima gave the backpack to Austin. “Please carry that.” She ran her hands over her body, squeegeeing as much water off as she could, then pulled her briefs and top back on.
“Ooh, what’d ya find?” Austin peeked into the backpack.
“Survival kit, first aid kit, another axe, and some protein base.” Sima took Lissa by the hand and walked with her into the jungle, heading ‘home.’
“Another lifeboat?” asked Austin in a near-whisper. He gave her ‘the look.’
Sima shook her head.
“How many?” mumbled Austin.
She pulled him into a hug, whispering at his ear. “Eight adults. The lifeboat was smashed.”
He looked up. “Eight? That’s bigger than ours.”
Lissa scurried off and retrieved her pants, waving them around.
Sima took her and Juan by the hand and led them back through the woods, stopping only long enough to collect an armload of fruits on their way ‘home.’ When they reached the lifeboat, she eyed the trees, clutching the axe as the kids filed past her and went inside.
Not until she secured the door, did she finally allowed herself to relax.
21
Cat Food
Austin shook his head at the dried stain on the floor. “It stinks in here. I can’t believe you picked up her pants. That’s so nasty!”
I can’t either. I just did it.
Lissa pouted, but seemed too worn out from the walk to cry. She sat in a slump, her breaths taking on a persistent wheeze. Sima rubbed the girl’s back, her fingers tracing over prominent ribs. Please don’t let me watch her die. She’s gotta survive. She pulled the girl into her lap, holding on while the child struggled to inhale. Lissa offered up a grateful smile and snuggled against her chest. Juan crawled over and lay on his back, using Sima’s thigh as a pillow. She tickled his stomach, making him curl up and giggle.
“It still smells like pee in here,” said Austin. “We should clean the floor.”
“With what?” asked Juan. “There’s no towels.”
“Use his pants,” said Austin. “He never wears them.”
Juan pulled them on as fast as he could. “No. Mine.”
It’s going to make someone sick. Sima gazed at the sky through a hole in the ceiling. “I’ll think of something.”
Austin flopped down with his legs spread apart, and planted the backpack in front of him to rummage it. He ignored the canisters and first aid kit, but went wide-eyed at the axe. “Can I have it? You can’t use two.”
“Be careful. It’s sharp.” Sima tugged the survival case over, opening it one-handed while cradling Lissa.
“I will.” Austin jumped up and ‘walked patrol’ around the lifeboat with his new weapon.
Sima blinked at the different devices packed in white foam, having not the first clue what any of them were. “Uhh, Bracelet? What is all this stuff?”
The holo-panel projected an image of the case, overlaying text above the contents. It tagged the machine in the top left corner as a portable campfire, a device capable of generating radiant heat and light, albeit blue. It labeled the next object as a water purifier. The final device, which resembled a large coffee maker in plain, brushed steel got the label ‘portable fabricator.’
Sima grinned, grabbed one of the protein canisters, and attached it to the fabricator’s receptacle. Her mom used to have one of those in the apartment, but this one looked intended for emergency use and lacked fancy options, instead offering chicken, beef, or fish. She set it to chicken and pressed its only button. The machine generated a slab of cold ‘grilled chicken,’ which exuded from the left side and fell on the floor with a wet plop. At home, the fabricator could produce raw meat or cooked meat, though in either case it came out room temperature. As a kid, she printed them cooked and tossed them in a pan to heat them. Only people who had time on their hands fabricated raw meat and cooked it for flavor.
“Mine!” yelled Juan, diving on the first slab.
Once everyone had a piece, Sima sat next to Lissa and made sure she ate the whole thing plus an entire fruit. The girl adored the attention, smiling despite the occasional cough. Sima gave her light pats on the back each time. Red stains lingered around the kids’ lips, and the boys smeared juice on their cheeks like war paint, conjuring the old narrator in Sima’s thoughts again doing the voice over for a documentary on the rituals of strange, primitive fruitivore tribes.
“Do you think we’re gonna die?” asked Juan.
“The crash didn’t kill us.” Sima squeezed Lissa’s shoulder. “We survived the streets. I really don’t know what’s going to happen, but I will do everything I can to protect you.”
“Is it gonna get cold?” Juan crawled over to the backpack and took a fruit. “We don’t have clothes.”
“We don’t need clothes,” said Lissa.
“Put your pants on,” muttered Sima.
“They’re still damp,” whined Lissa.
“It’s hot and sweaty. Everything is damp,” muttered Austin. “Everything stays damp here.”
Lissa fidgeted. “I don’t wanna.”
“Will it get cold?” Juan picked up another fruit and cracked it open.
Sima blinked at him. Wow, kid can eat for a little guy.
“This planet might not have winter,” said Austin. “It’s tropical or something. We’re like wilders now.”
“The Night Scratch is coming,” whispered Lissa. She huddled tight to Sima, trembling. “I hear it.”
Everyone got quiet. Seconds later, a light snap occurred inches from the door. A pink nose streaked with black appeared in the jagged hole on the wall near the stasis pod, sniffing. Lissa gasped and pulled her knees to her chest. Austin hefted his axe. Sima scooted away from the wall, keeping her body between the creature and the kids. Dark azure fur shimmered around the muzzle of a panther-sized cat. After a brief staredown with its four glowing eyes, it slinked off.
Quiet lasted fifteen seconds.
It leapt onto the roof, startling screams from the two smallest kids. Scratching and picking noises meandered overhead as it searched for a way inside.
“It smelled the chicken,” whispered Austin. “Maybe it’ll leave us alone if we give it some.”
“No, that’s for us,” said Juan. “It can go eat the fuzzy piggies.”
“No!” whisper-shouted Lissa. “They’re cute! Don’t let it eat them!”
Sima squeezed the rubberized handle, looking toward the sound of the cat’s motion outside. “If we feed it, it’ll only come back looking for more.”
Lissa’s rapid breathing knocked something loose inside her, and she lapsed into a coughing fit, but it remained mild enough not to be scary.
“We’re fine,” said Sima. “It can’t get in.”
An hour passed with no one brave enough to risk saying a single word aloud.
Sima rocked Lissa, who hadn’t stopped trembling, whispering assurances every few minutes. “You’re gonna be fine. The doctors fixed you.”
Sima tapped the Omnicomputer. It seemed to get the hint; the blue lasers appeared, rotating and sweeping side to side over the frail child’s back. Please be good news… Three minutes later, the holo panel appeared, scrolling full of text.
‹Scar tissue detected in both lungs consistent with tumor removal. Lung tissue has sustained damage reducing breathing capacity and endurance. No signs of progressive disease, however scar tissue is bleeding and increased phlegm production has further reduced effective capacity. Based on subject age, I calculate approximately a forty-seven percent chance she will regain majority use of her lungs within five to seven years.›
Sima kissed the bracelet and held her arm in front of Lissa’s face.
“That’s pretty,” whispered the girl.
“You can’t read?”
Lissa shook her head.
“It says you’re gonna be okay.”
A long scrape passed overhead, as thou
gh the cat slid across the roof. The lifeboat rocked.
“It’s trying to tip us,” said Austin.
“I don’t think it’s strong enough.” Sima glanced around at the wall, estimating the cat’s position as it moved. “The floor isn’t open. Even if it somehow manages to roll us over, it still won’t get in. Okay, it’s dark. Time for bed.”
Huddled together beneath the continuous scrapes of claws on steel, they tried to sleep.
22
Isolation
Sima pushed herself up off the floor, groggy and dazed.
The inside of the pod had to be past a hundred degrees. Sweat squished under her skin, letting her slide easily over the metal floor. Lissa sprawled beside her, arms and legs splayed like a crime victim. Evidently, even she’d gotten too hot for clinging. Juan crouched in the corner, bouncing and catching a rubber ring he must’ve found in one of the machines.
Sima sighed at his lack of clothing. “Put your pants on.”
“It’s hot,” he said.
Austin, at least, remained dressed, though he looked ready to melt into a puddle. Like Lissa, he lay spread eagled on the floor, tongue lolling out, drenched in sweat. Sima didn’t bother standing and crawled to the tunnel of scrap metal, pulling herself through on her belly to the ‘bathroom.’ After using the jug, she poured it out a hole in the wall, then slithered back to the main area, where she knelt fanning herself.
Damn, it’s hot. She frowned at her clothes. It wouldn’t have mattered if I went swimming in these yesterday because they’re soaked anyway.
She drank a few sips of water from the bottle, struggling to choke down the plastic-flavored liquid. Ick. Drinking warm water sucks. “I’m gonna run and get fresh water.”
“No,” whispered Lissa.
Sima turned to look down at her. “Why not?”
“The kitty’s still out there. Juan heard it.”
Out of Sight (Progenitor Book 1) Page 24