Faded Flare

by L. B. Carter

  “No wonder the popcorn was expensive.” Not that she had paid for it. “I had attributed that to inflation during my time locked up in BTI.” Locked up felt like the right phrase for what she was now categorizing as a prison sentence with inmate work duty. In opposition to a real criminal rehabilitation program, it had ill prepared her for life on the outside; she was more criminal now.

  The others began to wake groggily from their long-drive slumbers at the rejuvenated conversation. While Henley had been tired, she hadn’t been able to look away from the scenery beyond campus.

  Jen had been vigilant as well. Henley suspected that had to do with some lingering distrust of both the driver and his skills.

  Somehow, Reed was still alert. Henley wondered if he also had a tub of powdered caffeine up front.

  “Wheat bagels are a delicacy at home,” Sirena grumbled with sleep roughening her voice. “Except it’s the dairy they most ration. Tiny allotments of cream cheese.”

  “Can’t feed livestock without any hay,” Jen explained.

  “The fishing industry isn’t doing so well, either,” Sirena divulged morosely.

  Nor reached a hand behind to comfort Rena with a pat on the knee. Her pine for seafood was extreme.

  Henley had never been in this part of the country, having flown to BTI four years and eleven months ago with no qualms about security back then. Her earlier schooling had identified the center as the agricultural hub of the nation. At the time, she had imagined it a vibrant green. Four years and eleven months, Henley noted, gawking, was enough time for the climate to plummet… or the temperature to soar, as it were.

  “Where do they get their water?” Henley pondered, observing all the brittle dryness.

  “Reservoirs, groundwater wells—assuming they’re not yet dried up entirely—lakes. For non-potable needs, the intercontinental. That would be my guess.”

  “The inter—what?” Reed didn’t seem like a big-word king of guy, but in this case Henley also didn’t know.

  “The intercontinental seaway,” Jen repeated. Realizing the other passengers didn’t have her level of expertise on geologic formations, she expounded. “With the rise of sea level, the lower-lying areas next to the mountains in the Midwest down to the south became inundated, the Gulf expanding its borders, kind of. It’s been working its way up the continent over time.”

  “Oh, my best friend used to live along the gulf,” Sirena recollected. “Her family had to move way up north with two little kids.”

  “She’s lucky she got out. There were a lot of deaths.” Jen was completely apathetic. She shrugged at their astonished faces. “It wasn’t like they couldn’t have known. It’s done it before. The rocks in that area formed underwater from the last time sea level was high. People refused to believe scientists’ modeled forecasts.”

  “Or they couldn’t afford to avoid it.” Sirena defended some of those who hadn’t displaced.

  “It’s done this before?” Henley’s curiosity was insatiable.

  Jen gave Henley a nod. “Before humans—in dinosaur times. The Earth’s natural fluctuations caused it then; this is the first time it’s anthropogenic.”

  “Anthropo-what?” Reed was a non-academic in a car of fortified minds. Sirena sort of counted with her past life being in BTI.

  “Human-induced.”

  “So, dinosaurs caused the last global warming?” Reed deduced.

  Jen scoffed. “With what? Cars? They didn’t emit anything.”

  “Volcanoes?” Nor asked.

  Jen shrugged. “Maybe; they’re being studied, but gaseous evidence doesn’t stick around, so it’s hard to know for sure. That’s still natural, though.”

  “Actually, I think I heard once from someone at our office that herbivores release a lot of gas due to the way they digest their cud,” Reed speculated, theatrically tapping a finger to his chin in thought. “Maybe that’s how they went extinct.”

  “I’ll be sure to research plant-eating dinosaur farts as a source for the mass extinction and the Cretaceous Greenhouse if I ever decide to go back into academia,” Jen promised sardonically. “My guess is human output is a little higher in volume than the dinosaurs’ and, thus, more destructive.”

  “Human farts?” Reed laughed off the universal groan and abandoned comedy for the moment. “You sound like Father’s rants. Except less… ranty,” he reflected. “He likes to rave about human impacts on nature.”

  “As did Mother but a lot more gently and encouragingly toward improving the human-biome relationship.” Nor smiled sadly at his brother.

  “You make it sound like we’re an abusive couple, humans and nature, just needing couple’s counseling,” Jen accused Nor.

  “Mother was an environmentalist.”

  “In her trade, too?” Henley wondered.

  “Ecology.” Nor nodded.

  Jen nodded back. “Makes sense. That’s why you guys go around helping people who are Earth-huggers.”

  “In a way.”

  “Saving Sirena is not really Earth-hugging.” Her eyes squinted, back to her original issue with the guys.

  “Rena is a living being like anything else.” Nor grinned as Sirena gave a half bow of thanks for the accreditation.

  “So are the humans who are destroying it.” Jen seemed pleased to find a loophole.

  “You think humans should just be destroyed by nature?” Nor was offended and shocked as if Jen were personally killing off humanity.

  Now Jen was confused. So was Henley. “Don’t you? If your mom was an ecologist, I’m sure she knew how negatively humans have been impacting the ecosystem pretty much since we evolved, forget industrialization. Gotta face the consequences.”

  “We try only to educate those against their ways rather than condemn them. Everyone and everything has room to grow if we enable them. Humans are a part of the ecosystem,” Nor parried reasonably.

  Henley was having trouble correlating this peaceable world view with his and his brother’s intensity and physical tactics; hugging Jen to subdue her in the forest was not similarly intentioned to “Earth-hugging”. Somewhere in there were some questionably hypocritical ethics. Henley assumed that’s where Jen had believed their were planning to off Sirena in the first place. Had it been Mark who’d wanted to get rid of their experiment and Jen was more attached, even if she parroted his opinions about Green Solutions? At least Henley was not denying her ever-expanding rap sheet. That also had room to grow if Henley and her amoral accomplices continued to enable it.

  “What if part of their education is to progress industrialization, to produce ecosystem-destroying objects as it were?” Henley asked, genuinely interested in Nor’s and his parents’ stance. Was she doing something wrong? Had she been a criminal longer than she was conscious of. Henley’s opinion of herself would be shattered. It was much more tolerable if BTI were liable for her degeneration.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exit here,” Buster diverted the discussion and their travel. Henley started. She hadn’t even known he was awake.

  Reed kept straight. “What for?”

  “We’re almost out of power.”

  “Shit, I hadn’t even noticed.” Reed gave the controls the middle finger.

  “What are you trying to do, fuel it with your disappointment?” Nor laughed.

  Reed shrugged. “Works between Father and you.”

  Nor deflated.

  “Where are we going to find gas out here?” Sirena asked.

  “Not gas,” Henley reminded her, but she was equally skeptical. “Hydrogen fuel cells run on water. Chemically pure, deionized water. You think we’re going to find someone willing to share their depleted stores with us?”

  “We are not stealing from the impoverished!” Nor whipped around to scowl at Buster as if it were his idea to run out of fuel. Henley kind of liked blaming him for most things. “Or incriminating them by association. What if BTI catches up to us while we’re there? These people are innocent civilians.”
>
  “No human is innocent of the mess we’ve made of the Earth.” Jen sat back, satisfied in the solidity of her argument.

  Nor gave her a quelling stare. “They don’t deserve the kind of retaliation we would bring to them.” He waved an arm out the window as stalks as tall as the car gave way to barren soils. “They’re already paying their dues.”

  Jen’s lips thinned.

  “What about from a restaurant or store?” Henley’s mind was cycling through other options. “Paid.”

  “A million bottles of water?” Reed said dubiously. “Gonna be pricey. You guys got cash?”

  Buster shook his head, saying over his shoulder to Henley, “Cameras.”

  “We could duck them like we did at the bank.”

  “Oh, happy to help with that,” Jen said, cracking her knuckles.

  “Too risky. The car alone would alert them of our whereabouts, and Jen’s still wearing the locket, so we might have a fourth, more informed tail.”

  Jen hid the jewelry from view with her palm. “No way.”

  “Father wouldn’t harm.” Reed agreed with Buster’s caveat, but his voice sounded slightly uncertain. “We’d be consigning the workers at those locations to potential interrogation at minimum.”

  “Stew would recognize the car, anyway,” Sirena assured dejectedly.

  Alternate ideas lacking, Henley stayed quiet.

  Seeing where that left them, Nor grumbled. “I can’t think of a less invasive option. Do it.”

  ∆∆∆

  Reed selected a house far off the main road, only identifiable in its existence by the rusted tin mailbox creaking as it dangled off-kilter on one chain by the roadside. Henley didn’t even notice the driveway between the towering cornstalks until they had abruptly swung onto it.

  Immediately, she had to grab onto the back of Buster’s seat, accidentally snagging a few of his lengthier strands, as the car trundled over uneven terrain. His hair even felt greasy. Granted, she wasn’t so clean herself.

  Hitting a particularly deep pothole, the backseat was tossed into the air, causing Henley and Jen to tap the ceiling with the crowns of their heads.

  “Yo, a little more consideration for the back of the bus,” Jen complained, rubbing the spot and mussing up her hair further, her crazed look almost complete. It might be best if they restricted her interaction with whoever lived at the end of the trail.

  “This baby has excellent suspension. Don’t hurt her feelings.” Reed gave the dashboard a reassuring rub then quickly transferred his grip back to the wheel as it lurched with their ascent over an unexpected hurdle.

  “This is worse than being on a boat,” Sirena moaned.

  “Oi, no getting sick in my baby either!”

  Henley was vibrating as though an electric current pulsed through her as they hit a gravelly section. Conversation stilted with the chattering of teeth and crunching of rock beneath the rugged tires.

  Finally, they turned a corner, and the walls of lifeless plants dropped away. Out the front windshield was a massive bare patch in the center of which sat a small, two-story, wooden-slatted house, listing to one side as though the dusty winds blew from one direction and it was too old and weary to weather the onslaught.

  Reed pulled up in a cloud of dust, well-cared-for brakes silent.

  Sirena swung open her door and dropped out of sight, the sound of retching making Henley cringe and swallow sympathetic bile. She couldn’t stand the sight or sound of vomiting.

  Since Sirena had broken the unspoken hesitancy to get out without thought, Henley climbed over the back of her seat and popped the trunk, unwilling to deign to ask Buster to move aside for her.

  Her feet slapped onto the pebbly powder with another little dust swarm. Walking around, she analyzed their location of choice.

  There were a few wooden steps—the rigidity of which Henley would be sure to test first before allowing them to support her weight—that led up to a wrap-around porch, and behind that, an ajar screen door danced slightly in the breeze. The wind wasn’t as strong as the house portrayed, a weak sigh. The air was very hot and dry. Four windows faced them. Either they sported curtains or no light shone from inside because they were as impenetrable as the windows to Reed’s jeep… or Buster’s humanity. There was no way to tell if anyone was scrutinizing them the way they were the rundown shack as it had become.

  “I’m not sure if they’ll even have spare dirty water,” Nor worried.

  “I’m not sure anyone lives here anymore,” Sirena said, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She took a sip of water from a bottle that she grabbed from the trunk as she passed around to stand beside the rest of them.

  “Well, if there is anyone and they don’t have water, we can just trade them for this old boy.” Reed swiped the bottle from Sirena and screwed the cap on as he headed over to inspect a rust-riddled truck equally as worn as the house. He gave an investigative kick to the front bumper. It didn’t fall apart. It did release a cloud of fine particles that caused him to cough. “If it runs.”

  “Hello?” Jen called out. “Anyone home?”

  “Jen,” Sirena hissed, eyes wide. “What if someone hears you?”

  “Duh, that’s the point.” Jen walked up to the porch, placing one hand on the railing and one foot tentatively on the bottommost stair. She leaned toward the door. “We’re not serial killers or anything, promise.”

  “Subtle,” Buster commended.

  “Definitely not something a serial killer would say.” Reed gave two thumbs up.

  “Have at it if you’re so much more skilled at asking some random strangers to use their precious life-essentials while trying to not look like a bunch of crazy delinquents running away from home.” Jen bowed to Reed, one arm outstretched in invitation.

  “Well the blood stains on your upper lip certainly aren’t helping.”

  Jen sneered and gestured Reed toward the door. “Gentlemen first.”

  “Henley should go.”

  Reed paused and pivoted toward Buster, eyebrow cocked. “One of the weakest here—no offense,” he added to Henley.

  She waved him off, her bad hand coming up to twist her hair. He didn’t need to know that he was inaccurate. She kept her reinforced hand wrapped behind her back. “Why me?” Was Buster’s reason for bringing her finally going to be revealed?

  “She’s good with people.” Buster’s statement was fact, as with everything else he said.

  Jen snorted. “What convinced you of that, the punch to the stomach?”

  “No, he’s right.” Nor caused Reed’s second brow to raise. “She handled Jen’s, uh, panic attack far better than any of us did.”

  Reed lifted two palms and backed to the side. “Fine. I’m out-voted. But know that you’re missing out on seeing my own, undefeated charm in action. I’m excellent at wooing people.”

  “Women, not people.”

  “Well, it’s a fifty-fifty chance it would have been,” Reed uttered to Nor snidely.

  Jen raised her hand. “I’m a woman. I feel pretty unwooed.”

  “I wasn’t trying with you. Clients are off limits.” Reed’s chin raised.

  Henley wasn’t sure how much she truly embodied Buster’s opinion of her. She’d spent the last four years, eleven months interacting the most with non-intelligent ‘beings’—skeleton analogs, not emotional people. Robots, essentially. That did not bode well for honing a strength in socialization. However, out of their options, she supposed she was the least threatening. Reed was too flirtatious, Sirena too inhuman at first glance, Jen too abrasive and bloody, and Nor— Nor was fine, if a little too trusting of human nature. He could go. “Nor doesn’t want to do it?”

  “Prove to them that women can do any job better.” Jen held up her fist in solidarity. “You go, girl.”

  It was strange encouragement for the task. However, Nor took a step back, inviting Henley to take the position.

  Emboldened by Buster and Nor’s confidence in her winsome skills, Hen
ley stepped forward, testing each step as she went, of course. The wood was too dry to rot. Brittle, they popped and resettled under her weight. Did the owners usually jump right over them? Perhaps no one was home, and they wouldn’t have to rely on her negotiation.

  Henley’s confidence was waning as she cautiously stepped up to the door. How could she be the best suited to represent their group? As far as first impressions went, she doubted her borrowed sweatshirt with a cat inside a taco graphic on it and too-short leggings were ideal.

  It was dark behind the screen door. Henley blinked slowly, permitting her pupils to dilate enough to improve her vision in the dim lighting.

  “Should we wait in the car?” Her back-up, Nor, asked nervously from behind Henley. She was on her own.

  She blew out a breath and called out unsteadily. “Hello?”

  There was no response and no movement that she noticed. She glanced at the eaves of the porch roof—no visible cameras. Henley hadn’t expected any in accordance with the state of disrepair of the rest of the people’s belongings. Tech was expensive. BTI gave quite the lashing when human error from its free workforce led to any wasted materials or damaged pieces of equipment.

  The silence was also anticipated, given that Jen had already loudly declared their presence.

  This close, the mismatch between the screen door and its frame explained why it didn’t shut. The wood on the edge of the door was rough—homemade.

  She poked her head in and called another greeting as though the porous screen weren’t permeable to sound waves. The sunset sent an angled square of light just a few feet from Henley’s shoes, streaming in from a window directly ahead at the other end of a hall. Even inside, dust motes danced in the air, twinkling in the light like fireflies inviting her to dance under the waning sun-rays.

  Henley eyed that step of darkness between her and the golden floor like it were a trapdoor. With irrational fear, she took an exaggerated step, spanning the imaginary chasm onto the ground that matched everything else in this part of the world.

  The door slapped behind her, and she jumped, offering it a glare to silence it. Through the black mesh, she could see Jen give a thumbs up though her shoulders were lifted with apprehension. Reed was close behind her, atypically austere. Sirena had hold of the edge of Nor’s shirt with one hand, her other on the collar of her shirt.