Earth Shadows (Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  Lailani cried softly against Ben-Ari's chest. "Maybe I just need a good cry," she said between her sobs.

  "We all need to cry sometimes," Ben-Ari whispered, stroking the sergeant's short black hair. "We all sometimes shatter. We all suffered so much loss. I cannot even imagine the grief you're feeling. To lose a loved one is a terrible pain."

  Lailani mumbled into Ben-Ari's shirt. "What if I lose Marco too? What if he chooses Kemi? What if I want him to choose Kemi, because I know that I can't commit to him, can't be the woman he deserves? Even though I still love him? Oh, I sound like a stupid teenager! I'm an NCO in the military, and now I'm acting like a lovesick girl."

  "You're acting like a human." Ben-Ari brushed back strands of Lailani's hair; it was just long enough to cover her eyes. "These feelings are normal. It's normal to be scared, confused, hurt."

  "Even for you?" Lailani said. "You're strong, though. And smart. Stronger and smarter than I am. I wish I could be like you."

  Ben-Ari smiled softly. If only you knew the pain and fear inside me, Lailani. But perhaps those are feelings I must keep hidden, feelings a captain cannot reveal to her crew. It's my job to guide you. To give you strength. To lead you through the grief and terror.

  She wrapped her arms around her soldier. "You are strong, Sergeant de la Rosa. And you are wise. And you are decent. You make me proud."

  "I feel safe like this," Lailani whispered. "When you hold me. I never had an older sister. But I imagine that it feels like this." She looked up at Ben-Ari, eyes still damp, and smiled. "I love that you're my commander. I always tell Marco and Kemi that I love them—even Kemi, with all those times she annoys me. And I love you too, ma'am. I know it's stupid and not professional. But I do. You're my heroine."

  This is why I do what I do. Ben-Ari had taken no husband, no lover. She had borne no children. She had no home waiting outside of the military, no people to love her, no pets. Nothing but this ship in the darkness. Nothing but this crew to stave off the horrible loneliness.

  But this is enough, Ben-Ari thought. This is my family. This is my home.

  "Get some sleep, Lailani. We have a long day of building probes tomorrow."

  Lailani hesitated, then kissed Ben-Ari's cheek. She curled up on the bed. "Goodnight, Einav."

  Ben-Ari lay down on the cot next to Lailani. It was a crowded ship, and the beds were only a meter apart, but tonight, being close to Lailani comforted her.

  You draw your comfort from my strength, she thought. But my comfort has always been in protecting people. In keeping others safe. And I will keep you safe, Lailani, Kemi, Marco. And I will find you, Addy. This is my life—it is yours. You will never know how proud and happy you all make me.

  Ben-Ari closed her eyes, and she let her weariness drag her into the deep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The snow fell as they hiked up the mountain. Addy shivered and cursed.

  "You did this for five years in the army?" she muttered. "And you didn't go insane?"

  "Oh, I went insane all right." Steve hiked ahead of her, clearing a path through the snow. "Everyone who survived this long has to be crazy."

  They were a hundred kilometers north of the Ark, and their bicycles lay hidden under branches at the foothills. For an hour now, they had been climbing, trudging up snowy slopes. The ruins of Toronto lay beyond the southern horizon, and the stench of death no longer filled the air. For all the cold, exhaustion, and fear, Addy found herself sometimes pausing, looking around at the wilderness, and inhaling deeply.

  There you are, she thought. Earth.

  "Almost there," Steve said, hefting the antennae across his back. "Damn, my leg is still fucked up. Doc says the bone is healed, but goddamn the thing still hurts like a son of a bitch."

  Addy snorted. "Wuss. No worse than a hockey injury. I once got both legs broken and fought the scum the very next day."

  "Bullshit." Steve looked back at her. He frowned. "Really?"

  Addy nodded, climbing behind him, carrying the other half of the heavy antennae. "For real. Another time I got my arm chopped off. A scum bit it. I grabbed it from him and beat him to death with it."

  Steve snorted. "Well, that's nothing. A marauder sliced open my belly once. I used my own guts to strangle the alien to death, then stuffed them back into me, stitched myself up with his cobwebs, and kept fighting."

  "Luxury," Addy said. "A marauder once cut my head off. I bit its ankles until it died, hopped back onto my own body, stitched my head back on using my own hair, and still managed to kill ten more aliens."

  "Oh yeah?" Steve said. "Well, a marauder once killed me. I rose as a zombie, ate its brains, caught my own ghost, wrestled it back into my body, and never even broke a sweat."

  "Oh yeah?" Addy said. "Oh yeah? Well, I—"

  I once had a feeding tube shoved down my throat, she wanted to say.

  I once watched almost all my friends die underground at Corpus, she wanted to say.

  I once watched millions of lives snuffed out on Abaddon, she wanted to say.

  I once watched Marco wither with shell shock until he was a ghost of himself, fading away, dying, she wanted to say.

  I once watched my friends return to life as scum hybrids, and I killed them myself. I shot my friends, and I can't stop seeing them over and over, she wanted to say.

  But none of those words came to her lips.

  "You win," she said instead.

  Steve began to whoop in victory, then seemed to notice the expression on her face. His grin vanished.

  "Well, we'll call it a draw," he said. "Now come, Ads. I'm freezing my ass off. Let's get this over with."

  They climbed higher, finally emerging onto the mountaintop. A frozen lake sprawled to the north. In the south, they could see snowy fields, a deserted town, and icy trees. They began setting up the antennae.

  "Used to do this all the time in the army," Steve said. "Thought it was finally behind me. Thought I'd spend the rest of my days in my apartment, watching Robot Wrestling with Stooge." He attached two rods and twisted a bolt. "You think Stooge is still alive?"

  "I'm not sure he was ever alive," Addy said.

  "Very funny. I miss the guy, all right? He was my friend. He was—Son of a bitch!" Steve wrestled with the antennae, and two pieces finally snapped together. "There. Good. I think we're rolling now. If there are other human pockets of resistance in Ontario, this'll find 'em. It might take a while, though." He pulled out two folding chairs, like those Hollywood directors sat on, and a thermos. "Coffee?"

  "No beer?" Addy said.

  "No beer." A twinkle filled his eyes. "But I might just have some brandy." He opened his pack, revealing a bottle. "For later."

  "Brandy!" Addy whistled and affected an English accent. "Well, look at Sir Steven Throttlebottom, Esquire. How genteel. Shall we swirl the drink while adjusting our monocles?"

  "Fuck you. It keeps you warmer than beer. Trust me, I spent five years on snowy mountaintops. Coffee and brandy—better than a campfire."

  They sat on the small folding chairs.

  "Fuck, my ass is so big now I can barely fit." Addy wriggled to squeeze in.

  "I should have brought you a sofa," said Steve, earning a punch.

  They sat, wrapped in their coats, drinking hot coffee. Steve had chosen some horrid hazelnut flavor, adding far too much sugar and cream, but Addy was willing to forgive him when the warm liquid filled her belly. The antenna thrust out, its sensors below ticked away, and Steve kept turning dials.

  "How long does it usually take?" Addy said.

  Steve shrugged. "A minute or so. Two if I'm tired." He waggled his eyebrows.

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're being generous. You know what I mean."

  "I don't know, Ads. I never had to look up signals after an apocalypse. I'm used to searching for scum in space, not humans on the ground." He adjusted the dials. "Nothing so far. It might be a long day. Pass me more of that coffee."

  She took a swig and passed it to him. "D
rink up. The sooner we're done with the coffee the sooner we crack open the booze."

  He adjusted the dials again, again picked up nothing. He filled his little cup with more coffee. They sat for a while in silence, gazing at the winter wilderness. A hawk glided above.

  "Hey, Ads?" Steve finally said.

  "Yeah?"

  Steve cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. He had been growing a beard these past couple weeks. It suited him, Addy thought.

  "Sorry again," he said. "For not being there with you guys. When you were kicking scum ass. I lied before. I didn't kill any scum. I was just doing this for five years. Sitting around, raising antennae, drinking coffee and booze. I hear the stories you tell, and I wish I could have been there. You know, just to help you. So you wouldn't be alone with your memories now."

  She gasped, eyes wide. "You mean you never strangled an alien with your own guts?"

  "Shut up." He drank again. "Look, I'm no good with words like your little buddy Marco. But I'm sorry, all right? I see how you sometimes seem to remember things. How you sometimes scream in your sleep. How you're hurt." He looked at her. "It hurts to see you dealing with all this by yourself. I wish I could understand."

  "Nobody will understand," Addy said softly. "Nobody but those who were there. I doubt Marco and I will ever talk about it, even if we meet again. But we'll understand."

  Steve nodded. He lowered his head, staring at his lap, and twisted his hands around his thermos. "So it's true, isn't it? That you love Marco. That you'll probably marry him."

  "What?" Addy barked a laugh. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

  "You and Marco. You love him, right?"

  "With all my heart," Addy said.

  Steve looked devastated. "Maybe it's time for that brandy now."

  "Steve!" Addy punched him. "You big dumb galoot! I love him like a brother. For fuck's sake, he practically is my brother. I lived with him since I was eleven. I don't love him all sexy like. First of all, he's the same height as me, and I like taller guys. Second, he's too book smart for me. I like big dumb idiots like you."

  "Really?" Steve's eyes lit up. "I mean—hey!"

  She leaned over, kissed his cheek, and mussed his hair. "My big dumb abominable snowman."

  He gave a mock roar. "That's me." He leaned back and stared at the wilderness. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Forests. Frozen rivers and lakes. The sky. Earth as it should be. There's still some good on this planet. Something to fight for."

  Addy nodded. "Something to fight for." She watched another hawk glide.

  Steve held her hand. "After all this shit is over—after we win—we should shack up again. Not that old apartment that stank of weed and beer. I'll build you a real house. With my own hands. I'm good with my hands. A house somewhere up here, in nature. Somewhere beautiful. Maybe we can even get back together, you know? Like a couple or . . . a husband and wife or something."

  She raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck, dude? Why aren't you getting on one knee and giving me a diamond the size of my eyeball?"

  "I don't kneel before nobody." Steve groaned. "Fine, fine!" He rose from his chair, knelt, and lifted an ice crystal. "Addy Elizabeth Linden, will you—"

  "Get up, you idiot. I was kidding." She stood up and yanked him to his feet. "I fucking hate boys who kneel and cry and shit. Wusses. That's like Marco shit right there. Just be a man and fucking kiss me."

  He pulled her into his arms, and he kissed her. The snow swirled around them. And it was safety. And it was warmth. And it was some comfort from the pain. And it was love.

  The radio crackled behind them.

  Through the static, a voice emerged.

  "This is K107.7, voice of the Human Rebellion, broadcasting every . . ." Static crackled. ". . . reports of marauders making their way along the Oak Ridges Moraine, all survivors advised to . . ."

  Steve leaped toward the radio. He adjusted the dials. Some of the static cleared.

  ". . . and remember, folks, keep off the main roads and stay out of the main cities. Try to stay in groups smaller than fifty. Melt snow to drink, and remember—never eat snow. All right, folks? Never eat snow, even if you're thirsty—melt it first. You can still find lots of farms up north with living cattle, and small towns still have grocery stores. Take what you need. But stay out of the big cities. Stay out of big groups. Stay off the main roads. Stay safe. Thanks for listening to K107.7, voice of the Human Rebellion."

  "This is bullshit!" Addy said. "We're the Human Rebellion!"

  Steve frowned. "I thought we were the Resistance."

  "Same fucking thing!" Addy groaned. "Who the fuck are those bozos?"

  The voice on the radio continued speaking. "And remember, folks, the Human Defense Force is still around, just splintered into bits and pieces. Based on our last reports, there are still divisions out there, infantry and armor, all ready to fight. We can't tell you everything we know, but there's somebody looking after you. And as we like to remind you here every day, the heroes of the Scum War are still fighting. Captain Einav Ben-Ari. Lieutenant Kemi Abasi. Staff Sergeant Marco Emery. Staff Sergeant Lailani de la Rosa. Staff Sergeant Addison Linden. We all know their names. We all remember them from the war. We all know they're still fighting. Say a little prayer today for our heroes. And now, we leave you with the golden notes of Bootstrap and the Shoeshine Kid. Some soothing music from K107.7, music and news on the hour, every hour."

  Electric guitar and bass played.

  "Other survivors," Addy whispered. "We're not alone."

  Steve frowned. "Wait a minute. Your real name is Addison?"

  Addy lifted her fist. "Your real name will be Toothless Smashed-face if you ever say that name again."

  Steve paled and grabbed the microphone. He twisted a few dials. "Hello out there! This is Ice Tiger, broadcasting from the Human Resistance. We—"

  "Ice Tiger?" Addy said. "Really?"

  "Shush, Snow Pigeon!"

  "I'm not—"

  "Addy!" he mouthed. "We can't use our real names!" He returned to the microphone. "This is Ice Tiger, voice of the Human Resistance. Not the Rebellion, mind you, the Resistance. My partner Snow Pigeon informs me that they're quite different. If you need assistance, we have food, we have weapons, we have medicine. Broadcast back on the following frequency."

  He repeated the call a few times, then placed down the mic.

  Addy rolled her eyes. "So you're the tiger and I'm the pigeon."

  "Hey, it was pigeon or snail, and I figured you'd prefer pigeon."

  "Dragon." She nodded. "I'm the Snow Dragon. It was the name of my old platoon."

  Steve nodded and clasped her hand. "Snow Dragon."

  The radio crackled. "Ice Tiger, do you copy? This is White Lion."

  Addy grabbed the mic. "Snow Dragon here! We read you loud and clear, White Lion."

  For a moment there was only static, and Addy cursed. Steve adjusted the dials, and Addy's heart pounded, sure the transmission was lost. But finally the voice emerged again.

  ". . . holed up for a while here. Marauders are on the hills all around. We're holding out, though."

  "Repeat please," Addy said. "Where are you holed up? Do you need assistance?"

  Again static. Then the voice returned. "We only report that information in code. I'll send you a key to interpret it. The marauders can't break it without knowing human keywords. Do you prefer actors, cartoon characters, or hockey players?"

  "Hit me with that hockey puck, dude," Addy said. "Unless the marauders have been watching Leaf games, they won't crack your code."

  During the Scum War, soldiers had often used "keys" for their codes—short phrases, often just two or three words long, that acted as passwords to scrambled messages. White Lion's scrambled code came in over the radio, along with the team and jersey number of a hockey player. Addy was able to recall the player's name from memory, which gave them the key. Addy couldn't make odds or ends of code-breaking, but surprisingly, Steve was able to quickly decode the encr
ypted message.

  I never knew you had it in you, she thought.

  A hundred and forty men. A mix of military and survivor types. They were holed up in a base nearby, with weapons galore, according to them. Marauders on the hills around them.

  "Let's take this back to the Ark," Steve said.

  Addy nodded. "Hopefully climbing downhill is easier than up."

  By the time they reached the foothills, the stars shone above. They rode their bicycles through the night, rifles slung across their backs. Steve had wanted to take the truck up here, but Addy had refused. Trucks rumbled, beamed out headlights, and would alert every marauder for kilometers around. On their bicycles, they traveled quietly, off road, the stars guiding them. Only once, about ten kilometers south, did a marauder leap toward them. Addy and Steve raised their rifles, silencers on the barrels. It took two full magazines of bullets to finally hit one eye, knocking the marauder down, and another two magazines to finish the job.

  It was dawn before they reached the Ark and returned underground. They shared the news with Jethro and the others.

  "Another group of rebels," Addy said. "Nearby. And they need help. We ride out tomorrow. And we grow stronger."

  Yet as she lay down to sleep that night, Addy couldn't shake her anxiety. There had been something about that voice on the radio, that White Lion. Something familiar. Something disturbing. She couldn't place it. When she finally fell asleep, the voice haunted her, calling her name over and over as she tried to flee.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Time flowed strangely in space.

  According to myth, the nearest wormhole—built by that ancient civilization of light—was two months away. As the ESS Marilyn sailed through the darkness at sub-light speed, its azoth crystal broken, some days seemed agonizingly slow to Marco. They were long days of silence, of contemplation, of memory. Days of pacing, gazing out of the portholes, praying to finally see the wormhole. Days when Marco found himself going mad with grief. Every day here, he knew, Addy was suffering in captivity, if she was even still alive. Every day here, all of Earth cried out under the yoke of the marauders, penned and slaughtered like cattle. Every day here, more guilt filled Marco—that he had survived while Anisha had burned, while so many suffered. Every day was an eternity.