“Yeah,” said Juan, sitting up. “Please?”
“Umm.” Sima stared at the ceiling.
Lissa’s soft breaths puffed over her neck. The girl had once again curled up at her side, resting her head on Sima’s shoulder. If any trace of wheezing remained, it had become too faint to hear. Sima absentmindedly combed her fingers at the girl’s hair, petting her like a cat while trying to remember some of the books that teacher had shared. Multiple stories crashed together with movies in her head.
“Well. Umm. Let me think.” Sima muddled her way through a story about a little girl in a red cape who stole porridge from three bears. The girl ran away from the angry bears and jumped into a mirror where she met a talking caterpillar. Some fat woman in red wanted to cut her head off, so she jumped back out from the mirror. Lost in the forest, she stumbled across a cottage made out of cookies. The witch that lived there tried to eat her, but the girl tricked her into a large fabricator before finding a secret passage in the closet that took her to a galaxy far, far away. There, she joined some rebels and helped overthrow an evil empire.
By the time the girl threw the dark emperor’s removed helmet into the fires of Mount Death, all three kids had fallen asleep. Still, Sima stared at the ceiling. How long could they survive here with nothing to eat but fruit? How did people find meat before fabricators and protein slime? She lifted her arm up and whispered the question to the bracelet.
‹Primitive humans raised animals like cows, chickens, goats, and pigs, which they killed for food.›
“Eww,” whispered Sima. “Meat comes from animals? That’s so sad.”
‹Meat has not been harvested from live animals for over two centuries. However, since we are no longer on Earth and lack the necessary technology, when the reserve of protein gel runs out, you would need to hunt if you desired meat.›
She thought about those cute fuzzball things Juan chased the other day. “I don’t wanna kill anything.”
‹That is your choice. It should be possible to survive on the vegetation you have been eating. I have insufficient data to advise you on the suitability of the local wildlife as a food source. However, it would be best to vary your diet if possible.›
“What did primitive people make clothes out of?”
‹Prior to the invention of textiles, animal hides. Some primitive humans, especially those in warmer climates, did not make clothes. Others living in colder climates treated the skins and fur of animals into clothing. Many also harvested the hair or wool from livestock and wove it into fabric.›
“We don’t have any of that. Or any machines to make it into clothes.”
‹Primitive people utilized a tool known as ‘needle and thread.’›
“How does that work?”
‹You do not have a ‘needle and thread’ either. However…› The mini screen played a short video showing a woman from several centuries ago sewing. According to the file, the image came from the year 2004. ‹Prior to the End of Nations, humanity utilized vast farms of humans living in poorer regions working together to produce garments.›
Sima watched the woman pushing sections of fabric into a machine that stitched them together. I’d be happy with just the fabric. I could tie it on somehow. I need more than one thing to wear. She frowned at herself. Or I could just pull a Lissa. She sat there worrying for a while about the fragile child who’d fallen into her life, dreading that she’d screw something up and hurt her. Of course, she worried about the boys too, but Lissa, clearly the most delicate, probably wouldn't make it.
“Are we going to survive?” whispered Sima.
‹In the absence of unforeseen medical complications, your present habits should allow for survival. However, I have insufficient data to determine the long-term effects of a diet consisting solely of that one particular fruit.›
Sima smirked at the ‘effect’ that diet already had on her. A lack of E-toilets didn’t much matter when everything turned into liquid.
Scratching raked at the wall. She rolled her eyes, grumbling to herself about not breaking the metal flange until a low, feline growl rumbled outside. All the hairs on her arms stood on end. Sima froze, tightening her embrace around the kids, hoping the Night Scratch didn’t make enough noise to wake them. She lay as still as possible, her gaze moving along the wall in time the squeal of claws on metal. Fortunately, the constant background of raindrops striking the metal roof and water splattering at the floor masked the curious predator.
After a long few minutes, the cat gave up, and Sima closed her eyes.
By morning, the storm had broken, allowing the sun out. Sima awoke to a thick atmosphere heavy with the smell of wet child and plant matter. The day got off to an early start at sweltering, which made the water-filled lifeboat utterly miserable. Steam wafted in the air around the holes, the air so saturated with humidity that it collected on the ceiling and dripped back into the flood.
Sima peeled herself off the floor and got to her feet. The kids stirred at her motion, but made no effort to stand. Austin lay flat on his front, arms splayed to the sides. Lissa curled back up in a ball. Juan half curled on his side, one arm under his head for a pillow.
Leaving them be for now, Sima waded into the waist-deep pool and gripped the lever on the hatch. Unfortunately, the designers had built the lifeboat to prevent explosive decompression by making the door open inward. Foot on the wall for support, she grabbed the handle and pulled, but the weight of all the water against the hatch kept it pinned shut.
“Crap,” muttered Sima. “Please tell me we’re not trapped in here…”
‹You’re not trapped in there.›
“Great.” She grinned. “How do I get out?”
‹Insufficient data.›
She stared at her wrist. “But, you just said we’re not trapped in here!”
‹You asked me to tell you that.›
“Argh!” yelled Sima.
“What’s wrong?” Austin rolled over onto his back and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
She slapped her hands at the surface of the ‘pool.’ “The water’s too heavy. It’s keeping the door shut.”
He turned his head to stare at her. As realization set in, his dazed ‘just woke up’ expression shifted to one of panic. “We’re trapped?”
“There’s gotta be a way to do something.” Sima tried again, futilely pulling at the handle, but gave up and waded out of the flood. “After I use the jug.”
She slithered over the slick metal floor into the back room and positioned herself over the jug. Her gaze fell on a tangle of two-inch flexible plastic hoses hanging out of a section of smashed wall. A faint memory of a teacher in science class doing something with tanks of water came back to her. Somehow, he’d made water flow uphill from a lower tank to a higher tank. Sima stared eagerly at the hoses while relieving herself. After dumping the jug out a hole in the hull, she ran over and ripped at the wall, dragging a six-foot section of tubing clear. It stank like chemicals she didn’t recognize, but contained only a trace of white dust.
“How did that go?” She crawled back to the front room, where all three kids had decided to go swimming.
Sima slid into the water again, pulling the hose under to fill it. The kids watched in curious silence as she capped one end with her hand and tried to stick the hose out through one of the larger holes close to the water’s surface. Though, as soon as she took her hand away, the water ran back out.
“Grr.” She looked over her shoulder at the kids, sticking the hose under again. “Austin, grab the other end and plug it.”
He fished the far end of the tube off the floor. After a moment of failing to get a seal with his hand, he shrugged and held the end of the hose against his belly.
Sima laughed. That time, the water didn’t flow back down the tube as fast, so she unspooled several feet of tube out the opening.
“It’s draining!” yelled Austin.
“Wow, that’s cool!” said Juan. “How’d you do that?”
�
��Umm.” She scratched at her head. “I don’t remember how it works. Just something I saw in school.”
Pattering drew her attention to the screen over her forearm.
‹You created a siphon.› The bracelet proceeded to explain how a siphon worked, and Sima relayed it to the children. By the time she finished, the water level had gone down more than a foot.
She tried the door, but still couldn’t budge it. However, the drain appeared to be working, much to Juan’s disappointment. Though, even Lissa had started fanning herself at the awful heat and did not mind the loss of their private swimming pool.
Eventually, with the water only knee-high to Sima, she and Austin working together managed to pull the hatch open enough that the remainder of the water rushed out, forming a foot-deep muddy bog at the lifeboat entrance.
Sima walked to where her clothes dangled from a piece of debris, but hanging all night in a rain-saturated lifeboat had kept all the EGSF-issued undies damp. Considering they intended to go swimming anyway, Sima swallowed her pride and went outside into much nicer air with only the bracelet on.
The kids followed her to the river where they drank and had a breakfast of fruit on the bank before jumping in to cool off. While the kids played in the water, Sima experimented with a thin strand of vine and one of the giant, brittle leaves. She fashioned a loincloth out of it, though taking too deep a breath threatened to snap the vine around her waist. Any of the plant material she’d found flexible enough to use as a belt lacked the strength to survive much handling. The tougher plants refused to bend at all, and their leaves had sharp edges.
Sima held up the bracelet. “Maybe we need to go farther off and find some new kind of plant.”
‹A possibility. I am unable to detect any significant variations in the local wildlife within my sensor range.›
“What is your sensor range? Like three feet?”
‹That is scanning range. My sensor range is approximately a half mile.›
Sima rubbed the bracelet. “Are you gonna run out of battery?”
‹Unlikely. My microcell has a capacity of about ten years, and I recharge when exposed to sunlight.›
She smiled, but still fidgeted at it. The thin metal band might not have been a restraint, but being unable to remove it still sort of bothered her. After a little more than an hour, she called the kids out of the water.
On a whim, she decided to go check out the lifeboat she’d crashed in. That one didn’t have as many holes and might tolerate the rain better. Plus, both stasis pods worked. If she opened the lids all the way, they could sleep on soft beds. Perhaps the bracelet could walk her through fixing the air conditioning so it didn’t make the place too cold to survive. Austin didn’t seem entirely thrilled at going on a long walk without his briefs on, but he didn’t voice any protest. Sima marched on into the jungle, listening to the science teacher voice narrate a documentary about the primitive tribes of Mirage. Lissa and Juan diverted off path every so often to check out flowers, but neither strayed so far she had to call them back. Austin attempted to hang a leaf around his waist, but after his belt broke twice and he cut his finger on the leaf edge, he gave up.
A two-hour trip ended in a pair of disappointments. Less significant, her attempt at plant-based clothing disintegrated after a short while of purposeful walking. Worse, the lifeboat she’d landed in had attracted a group of large, blue-black furred creatures similar in appearance to bears. All had swaths of stubby pink tendrils on the sides of their heads. She counted at least eight of the beasts, all having made a home of the crash trench by the hatch.
Lissa gasped and hid behind her. Juan took a step to check them out more closely, but Sima grabbed his shoulder to pull him back.
“What are they?” whispered Austin, clutching his axe.
“Nothing we are going to mess with.” Sima pointed back in the direction they’d come from. “Go slow and don’t make noise.”
They retreated without raising notice. One of the creatures sniffed at the air, exposing a mouth full of squat, conical teeth and a serpentine black tongue that looked capable of reaching out and catching prey. At the sight of that, Sima grabbed at the kids and pulled them hastily back into the woods.
She led them home, dreading that someday, more animals might be attracted to the lifeboat they lived in. Of course, that one had a much shallower crash trench, not deep enough to offer shelter to animals.
Lissa glided off to the side, chasing every pretty flower or rainbow-colored insect that came into view. The boys largely walked in silence, though Austin had a serious expression, carrying his axe like an EGSF soldier with a rifle.
I feel ridiculous. She shook her head, unable to believe she walked around outdoors carrying an axe and wearing only a bracelet. This is beyond primitive. This is like people from a thousand years ago. Cassie would be laughing at me. Sima sighed at the ground, realizing she missed her somewhat-friend. It felt like forever ago since she had a conversation with a person her age or older. Of course, to Cassie, Sima had already been gone more than two years. That girl likely thought Sima had been killed or put in prison.
Juan tripped over something and sprawled flat on the ground. He laughed and scrambled upright. Before Sima could even worry about him, Lissa screamed. She jumped backward, a thin, blue vine wrapped around her right leg, trying to pull her into the underbrush.
Austin and Sima pounced at the same time, both chopping the vine away. The sudden release of tension dumped Lissa to the ground, where she promptly burst into tears and wailed, “Mommy!”
The severed vine lashed at Austin, but he sliced it shorter in midair and backed away.
Sima scooped Lissa up and held her. Fortunately, she’d suffered only a few tiny pinpricks from thorns. Once the shock of it wore off, Lissa went back to smiling. Despite her better mood, the child remained close at her side, no longer interested in exploring.
What am I doing pretending to be a parent? I’m barely educated, too. I can’t teach them much. A branch Austin pushed out of his way flapped back at her, scratching leaves across her chest and stomach. Yeah, right… we’re stuck in the jungle. Education won’t matter. Not like they need to grow up and learn enough to get ready for good jobs. They didn’t send us to another planet; they sent us back to prehistoric times.
She squeezed Lissa’s hand.
If they even get to grow up at all.
Relief washed over her when they reached the lifeboat and found it devoid of monsters. An unusually large number of sky mantas glided overhead, swimming around in the air in pairs or triplets. She figured they either performed some manner of courting ritual or played. Sima couldn’t help but see them as smiling, due to the shape of the mouth slit along the underside of their front edge. She stepped inside long enough to get dressed, even if her top and underpants remained damp. Austin, too, hurried to get his briefs on.
Lissa flopped in the grass and resumed her thus-far-futile effort to make some kind of jewelry out of the delicate flowers. While the boys resumed pretend stick fighting, Sima explored the near jungle in search of better vines or leaves from which she could make skirts or something. By early evening, she’d put leaf-skirts on all three kids plus herself. The boys broke theirs in minutes. Sima’s burst apart as soon as she sat down.
Damn. Made it too tight around the waist.
Lissa’s skirt lasted the longest, mostly because she sat still playing with the grass and wildflowers. When the sun began to set, she got up to pee before bed, and it fell right off.
Sima sighed, and went inside to print out some chicken.
Days came and went. A different variation of ‘mangled bedtime story’ happened each night. Sima knew she mixed things up, but the kids didn’t notice or care, so she didn’t either.
Her feeble hope that they might find more survivors had about died. After more than a full week, having not seen or heard any sign of other people pretty much proved they’d wound up the only humans on the planet.
No longer havi
ng any hope that anyone might find them, Sima couldn’t summon the energy to care about clothing. Her kids didn’t care at all, except for Austin, and even he had started to get blasé. It wasn’t as if other people would show up and she’d be mortified. She also worried about rashes—or whatever else might happen—from constantly having sweat-soaked fabric pressed against her skin. Normal people wore clean underwear every day. Hell, even as an Outcast living on the street, she had a week’s worth of undergarments, and she made use of pay-per-wash places. Having only one set, plus being stranded so far away from humanity that no one would ever see them again, made the whole modesty thing pointless. Apparently, no one would wait to outgrow their government-issued skivvies before going totally native.
All we need now are spears. But I guess we have axes, so that counts.
Daylight hours had lost some of their dread with confidence the ‘cat’ or ‘cats’ would only show themselves in the dark. Not once did they ever see a sign of the Night Scratch prowling around while the sun remained out, though the creature did visit every two or three nights as if hoping to find a new hole in the lifeboat it hadn’t discovered before.
Sima committed herself to teaching the kids from the data in the bracelet. After a few days, Lissa developed a reading vocabulary of about thirty words, and she’d even managed to successfully make floral bracelets and anklets that didn’t fall apart from casual wear. Sima had wandered farther and farther into the jungle in search of different types of leaves, but every attempt she made at crafting garments with local plant life resulted in skirts that disintegrated within minutes or had hazardous edges, uncomfortable (often dangerous) sticky hairs, or sharp points rendering them unwearable. One leaf she tried to collect paralyzed her left hand for three hours simply from touching it.
She considered possibly killing one of those little blue pig things for hide, but thought them too cute, and the bracelet explained that primitive humans had a process for ‘tanning’ animal skin into leather. It didn’t have information about that process, being that no human had actually tanned animal hide for hundreds of years.
Out of Sight (Progenitor Book 1) Page 27