by Nick Ryder
One thing I knew about warfare, the United States military didn’t do something half-assed. If they committed to a project, it was all in. This facility, and as the cameras on level four reconnected with the system. I realized this military base was likely a carbon copy of other stations all over the country; probably in allied nations across the globe.
There were fifteen gestation bays, each with ten tubes. The dormant rooms were sterile and unused. There was a sense of urgency around the group though no one said anything directly.
“We need to secure the doors. I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to go outside alone.” I wanted to believe I could control my team but there was trepidation in Lisa’s eyes that I couldn’t discount.
“We need specimens,” Ego announced. “If we continued on this path, our next step is to create other genetic modifications that are just as formidable as the rest.”
“We still don’t fully understand what’s happened to the wildlife out there,” I said.
“I think your little science experiments happened in other places,” Elaine said. “If you saw some of those mutations, you’d understand.”
“We can assume there are other military bases.” It was Lisa who said it. The rest agreed. I saw them patrolling the halls on the fourth floor. The genetic modification tubes ready for the new experiments and we had our backs against the wall because I knew we needed an army. To do that, we needed more DNA samples. To get those samples, we needed to gather specimens. But we knew it was only a matter of time before the humans returned. The group would be bigger, and we weren’t prepared.
“How can we be sure the next creature you put together in here is going to be as cooperative as us?” Marie said. “I don’t mind what I am. Strangely, I like it. But what makes you think it’s going to be that way and not like that thing you woke up earlier?”
“What thing?” Lisa asked. She stared up at my camera lens.
“There was a remnant of the past experiments.” Ego had a memory that didn’t stop. Even when it wasn’t necessary or a good idea, “It went bad.”
“Why?” Lisa asked.
“I believe because it was something that had a brain installed prior to the closure of the lab.”
This satisfied the group for the time being. “Bad brains can do that,” Elaine said.
“How long before we reach some semblance of reinforcements?” I asked.
“It will take approximately ninety-five hours at full capacity, provided all tubes are working accordingly.” Ego’s calculations were usually without flaws. “However, it will drain the battery stores of the facility by thirty percent.”
“What does that mean?” Marie wanted to know. She had her four rats each pining away for attention. They acted skittish since they entered the fourth sub-level. No one else seemed to notice.
“We’re operating without additional energies.” Ego hadn’t supplied details of the facility to the girls because they didn’t ask directly. Ego didn’t volunteer information. It wasn’t in the programming. If it wasn’t a direct attack on the system or reporting errors, energy stores weren’t reported until they bordered critically. We still had a few months before that happened. “It is a possibility that this facility has access to nuclear or thermal energy reserves. But we have no idea.”
“Because we haven’t gone into the lower levels,” Lisa said and looked to the security doors on the far side of the hallway.
“Yeah, you know,” Marie said. “I was thinking about that too.” She looked at the others. Her hands were all over the rats pressing against her as she spoke, “Did you notice how hard it’s been getting to this level? It’s like the floors were sealed off one by one.”
“I noticed,” I said quietly.
“What are you thinking?” Marie asked.
“It might be a tactical thing. Why give access to the full base all at once?”
“So you think when they originally got here they barricaded each of these floors separately?”
“I know they did,” I told the group. “Ego has no access to any floor below this one. As we’ve broken through the barriers, we achieve communication with the network for the floor.”
“Consider there are firewalls for each floor,” Ego explained. “I have no access until we physically breach the floor.”
“Why would they do that?” Lisa asked. Everything was suspicious to her. It was a useful survival trait as long as it didn’t make her paranoid.
“It’s possible to keep from anyone hacking the sublevels. The same way Ego has no communication or network access outside the base beyond a hundred meters. There are considerations that we’re not aware of what's happened over the last twenty years.” I said. Automatons were checking each of the tubes. Ego ran diagnostics for the floor computers. Everything worked so far. It was a matter of the nanobots migrating into the system and taking over before we could move forward with building the rest of our army.
“You’re talking about the others out there. You think there are more people like the girl?”
“Of course there are,” Elaine said. “You don’t remember what it was like when they took over. People were doing all sorts of things, fire from their hands. I saw a girl no more than ten years old who flew through the air, used a steel rod from a building and sliced the heads of fifty people.”
“Why?” Marie asked.
“I don’t know,” Elaine said. “Maybe because she could, I guess.”
“Did you notice that older people changed into strange things and some just died or went crazy?” Lisa added. “It was like only younger people could control what was happened to them.”
“We’re off track here,” I reminded them. “We have too many things to do at once. I think we need to decide right now what we’re making next.”
“We can combine DNA,” Ego added.
“What?”
“Well, say you want a lizard to have wings or a fox that has the legs of a rabbit so it can leap high into the air. It’s like the women: they’re human and animal hybrid to allow the brains to function in the bodies, but we can play around with the code of animals without human brains, too.”
“I’d rather if they could pick up guns and shoot.” I didn’t want monsters, but I looked around at the group we had. Technically, we were halfway there.
“What guns?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah,” Marie said. “Isn’t that weird? No guns?”
“Not yet,” I said hopefully.
“What do you want us to do?” Elaine asked.
Ego spoke up. “You need to collect as many animal specimens as you can carry and bring them back to the facility. We will take the samples we need and dispose of the remains in the reclamation vats for the nutrigel.”
“You meant that stuff we’ve been eating? It’s ... what exactly?” Elaine made a face.
“Listen,” I said. I was exasperated, and I still felt we had a ticking clock. “Collect the specimens. Maybe we can cook up some rabbits.”
“Have you seen the size of the rabbits out there?” Marie asked.
“I could eat a rabbit,” Lisa said. There was a guttural sound that followed the statement. Marie and Elaine sidestepped away from the she-wolf.
There was another klaxon alert.
“We’ve broken through to sublevel five,” Ego said.
“That seemed easy,” Marie said.
“Compared to what?”
Chapter Eighteen
Word of the attack reached the village elders, and Cara found herself at the center of attention again. She waited as patiently as possible to find out what they intended for the group. Their warriors were dwindling. Only a few people were willing to go beyond the fences into the badlands. It was an agriculture community. The meat was a rarity, but everyone went without until someone hauled in a few hundred pounds of rattlesnake meat, or the occasional giant rabbit hopped the perimeter fences to feast in the gardens and shortly became stew for the villagers.
“You’re getting
promoted,” Maurice told Cara when he left the council meeting.
“Great,” she whispered.
Maurice grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Girl, you need to step back!” He got brave when it wasn’t him in the crosshairs. “You’ve been promoted to A class,” he squealed. “Do you know what that means?”
“That people are going to think I’m a serious freak. Like I need that,” she added with a sigh. No one seemed to care about Spencer or Karl anymore. Their loved ones had a good cry, and everyone went back to doing what they did before nothing.
“You’re above Isaiah,” Maurice said. “No more listening to him. You don’t have to worry about anyone stepping on your toes.” He looked at her feet. Usually, Cara wore the battle boots when she was beyond the community. Inside she went barefoot everywhere, and the soles of her feet were callus and black from dirt. “No one else has A level powers here.”
“I don’t care,” she finally said. She dropped onto the nearby rock. Maurice walked up to herm put his hands on her knees and pushed them together.
“Sit like a lady, dear,” he said.
“This business with the points and the power isn’t helping.”
“You know the last time we had A-level people come here?” Maurice asked. Cara looked at him but said nothing. “Exactly, see, so you’re going to write your own ticket now.” He grimaced and said, “You’re required to see the keeper now.”
“Shit.”
The Keeper of the Records was one of the most important people in the village. Of the people left over from the deaths that occurred since they dealt with the mountain kingdom, he was one of the oldest and the fattest. He was heavier than Isaiah’s dad because people brought offerings to him for his services.
Paper was more valuable than gold, but many of the founders of the village learned to keep records by other means. They created a foundry, a smithy, and other significant technological advancements that didn’t need fossil fuels to keep going. The new paper came from the harvest. The sheets were flimsy and thin. While the occasional book went into the village, and after it went through several hands, and ended up in the toilets for wiping solutions, blank paper was precious. And the Keeper had scrolls and manuscripts that cataloged everyone and everything. He wrote daily and filled volumes of pages with the history of what happened. He kept tabs on births and deaths. It was essential to maintain the numbers because they had a limit for sustaining everyone.
And when someone like Cara showed promise, they had to see the Keeper for evaluation and placement for levels. They feared her before. They would be terrified of her now she’d showed her abilities. It was easier before when it was just her and Sampson who knew about her powers. While everyone suspected Cara hid something, they didn’t have the proof until the survivors returned to the village and told tales.
Cara wasn’t a fool. She knew Mercury and Gemini had powers. It was as if she sensed it. But they chose to keep their abilities as suppressed as she did. Her reasons had to do with how she didn’t want to make a big deal about it. She didn’t want people following her around the compound and looking at her like she was some fallen goddess who was going to change the world and save them all.
Gemini and Mercury were boys who had agendas. If there was one thing Cara knew, it was that all men had agendas.
“What are you doing?” she asked the air. There was no one near her that she could see. But Cara knew someone followed her. “Come out.”
Surrexerunt had the greenest eyes of anyone Cara ever saw. She was as thin as a blade of grass. Her hair was mottled brown, and when the sunlight caught it, flecks of green shimmered in the locks. She wore simple clothes, cotton tunics of bland colors that went to her knees. Surrexerunt was close to fifteen but still had the body of an adolescent girl.
“Surrexerunt, why are you following me?” Cara asked. She’d never spoken to the girl before. It was one of the things that happened in the village lately. The life of a celebrity brought the crazies out of the woodwork. She’d never seen Surrexerunt away from the gardens before. The girl had a magic touch when it came to tending the vegetables. Everyone in the village had to thank her for the crops they harvested. She had a way that was preternatural, and Cara suspected there was something to the girl’s uncanny ability to keep weeds out of the gardens just by threatening them.
“It’s Surre,” she whispered. “I don’t like to be called Surrexerunt. Makes me sound like a disease,” she added.
“Why are you following me, Surre?”
“You were there when Karl died,” she said meekly.
Cara knew immediately. Whether they were betrothed or just secret lovers, the boy meant something to her and Surre needed closure.
Cara nodded. “He went down fighting,” she lied. It seemed to satisfy the girl. She looked at her bare feet. Cara’s eyes went to the ground too. She saw around the girl’s feet it seemed like a patch of fresh, vibrant green grass sprouting around her toes and heels.
“Next time,” she said. She looked at Cara. There was a shimmer about her body, “I’m going too.”
Surre held out her hand to Cara, palm down. Curiously, Cara moved her hand underneath, palm up. An acorn seed dropped into her palm. But it had split open. Tendrils of vivid green spiraled from inside the shell.
Surre turned without debate and slipped into the thick hedges. Somehow the plants moved around her form as if they wanted to touch her.
Cara studied the sprouting seed. She carried it to the side of the path, dug a hole, and dropped it inside.
The Keeper was a fastidious man. He was the only person in the village who wore glasses. He worked alone in the library, and no one had access until he was present. Cara never bothered the man before. She’d seen him a few times at gatherings, but his presence was more of an ornament to her than of a real purpose. Like a lot of people in the village, he had a title, and people gave him respect and rations.
“I wondered when you’d come,” he said. There was a neat stack of papers on a desk made from the interior wall of a building. It was carved and painted. Decorated with some patient designs and served the man for his business.
“I didn’t know I had to come here,” Cara said honestly. She’d had conversations with other scavengers who visited the Keeper. They were observant of their points. Anything that meant a higher score within the village was important to everyone else.
“It isn’t required of course.” The Keeper looked up over the top of the glasses. For a moment he was just a man. Cara sighed inwardly. Men responded to her like that, while he’d seen her of course at distances, sometimes even half-blind men stopped and looked when she was in proximity. She saw the pen in his hand tremble a little. Quickly he removed the glasses from his face and wiped at the fogged glass with a rag before putting on the glasses again.
The Keeper stood, straightened his cloak and went to a shelf. There were rare books, tightly put together. One had Cara’s name on it. He removed it and carried it to the desk. Located under a huge opening in the roof covered in the glass there wasn’t a lot of need for candles in the library, and as she looked around, she didn’t see any candles but a lot of flammable merchandise.
Inside the book, there were more blank pages than filled.
“I have to rely on your friends when it comes to your points.” He scanned the last entry. “You had over three hundred confirmed kills your last outing.”
“When was that?” she asked offhandedly.
“You saved your friends from the hordes.”
“Oh,” she had tried to forget about that. “I don’t think there were that many out there.”
The Keeper’s finger pressed along the script inside the book. “It has a confirmed count from three sources.”
“Three?”
“Oh yes, Maurice Frazier, Wilbert Carver, and Sampson Ellison.”
“My father counted the spiders?”
The Keeper nodded. “I rely much on your father for your scores.”
Cara
looked at her dirty feet.
“You have more kills than reported and verified.” It was a declaration that he expected an answer.
“I didn’t think it was that important.”
“We are very grateful to what you do for us, Cara. It is not easy to go into the wilds and bring back supplies.” The Keeper removed his glasses, put them on the book and stood up. Cara felt as if he was about to supply exposition and she had to wait it out if she wanted to move forward.”
“You understand how we survived since the Change?” It was a redundant question, and he kept talking. “Everyone in the village has tasks to complete, and most feel they are boring but necessary. You are rewarded for the tasks. All tasks are ranked with a point system that allows members of the village to be rewarded for achieving accomplishments. This is what the great Seer told us would allow humanity to survive after the end of the old world, as you already know. I think you need to reflect on how well that has worked as is evidenced by your very life.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, when you reach a certain milestone, you receive more rewards. Even simple tasks help you on the path to high points. While scavenging takes a lot of skill, even gardening, or cleaning the sewage can earn milestones and achievements, just like scavengers get when they return. The ubiquitous scores keep everyone even. You can give away rewards.” He stopped pacing to look at her.”
“I can?” she asked. She liked that idea.
“You do this and didn’t know every time you share your loot with the villagers, and it goes toward your achievements. You reward others and that in turn gives you different milestones. It increases your proficiency and prestige within the village.
“But you are a scavenger, and that means you receive scores based on your actions outside the village, away from us.” He frowned at her. “When you go out alone, for example, no one can keep score for you.” He made a face. “While sometimes I have to rely on embellishment from other scavengers, it’s usually nothing that can’t be honed to something comprisable for solid marks.