Seasons of Murder: In the Shadow of This Red Rock
Page 13
Cal thought about this for a long time, his fingers returning to their favourite activity.
Then he chuckled at the visions of hiding and smuggling, and children, the new generation, growing up free and uninhibited in their own new world. “Good.”
When they arrived at the docking station in orbit around Earth, he hired a private transport just for the two of them. He was selfish, he was mean (according to Mina), but he wanted Z to himself for this.
When they landed, he let Zero precede him down the ramp.
He’d picked the landing site deliberately.
It was mid-autumn and they’d landed in one of Hartland’s new national parks—ten thousand forested acres of maple and birch, sweet gum and Acers. The leaves were deep on the ground, each one perfect and individual, and so deeply coloured it was as if hot lava flowered beneath the tiny ship.
Cal watched as Z fell to his knees, as he scooped up this treasure, went to toss it, but then clutched it to his chest as if he couldn’t bear to part with a single one. Then, frozen to the spot, he appeared to realise what was ahead of him—vast trees as far as the eye could see groaning with gold and red, and a sky so blue it made you think you’d glimpsed what was promised in the life to come.
Cal had yet to leave the landing ramp where he was perched, observing his lover, but when Z began to sob, Cal stepped forward, drawn by the link they shared and by love, but it was only confused laughter as with great heaving gasps Zero breathed real air.
Cal had forgotten that the Sender had never tasted this before, and he took it now into his own lungs in almost unconscious mimicry, relishing the cold ozone of pure mountain oxygen.
Zero began to gather more fallen leaves and, perhaps realising he wasn’t going to run out, chucked great handfuls of them into the air. He turned to Cal as they rained down upon him, his brows raised for permission, and Cal nodded his agreement to a send, and he was flooded with ecstasy, and he knew he had never even glimpsed the splendour and magnificence of his own world before—it took new eyes, new senses, to do that.
Colours were enhanced, leaves danced of their own volition, drunk with the pleasure of their fall. Zero pulled him close, put a hand to Cal’s hair and plucked out one red maple leaf.
It was exquisite and intricately veined, a little world of private love in miniature.
Cal knew better than to touch it. It existed only in his mind.
Zero suddenly snorted and stuffed it down the front of Cal’s shirt. “Sucker.” He bounded away toward the trees and began to hug them, running his hands in wonder over the rough bark, reassuring them, if Cal heard right, that they weren’t dying, that they would be resurrected in splendour in April.
Cal squatted back down on the ramp.
He didn’t have the heart to remind Zero that it was actually April now.
When the repatriation had been finalised, they’d revisited the plan to settle the Minders in New Zealand. The hundred thousand inhabitants of South Island had been given an ultimatum—relocate to a country of your choice, or stay and be part of the new Minder homeland. Most had agreed to stay. They were a hardy bunch.
It was April today, but tomorrow it would not be.
Tomorrow was Day 1 of the new Hartland Calendar.
The first day of the first month of the first year of a new way of life.
A new world.
Cal grimaced when a summons screeched through his head.
They’d agreed: permission sought before a send.
Cal let it go. These were exceptional circumstances. And he was more than willing to be summoned anyway.
It would be Day 1 for him, too. He’d resigned from the Elon Musk—from space duty at all. He was head of security now for the Minder homeland.
Sheriff.
As Zero had gleefully pointed out, Cal could spend his days intoning, “I am the law,” and actually mean it for once.
Day 1.
The possibilities were limitless.
Cal pretended to saunter up to Zero, obeying his call, and then at the last moment rugby-tackled him down into one of the soft gold and red piles.
“Am I under arrest, Sheriff?”
“Have you committed a crime?”
Zero sniggered. “If I had no one would ever know…”
Cal narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even joke about it. You, Sender, are the best kept secret ever, remember?”
“Hunter and Fuller know…”
“Hunter and Fuller very much like the idea of being my deputy sheriffs. Partners in more ways than one, if I’m not mistaken.” He saw some secret knowledge Zero had of the romantic entanglements amongst their friends and realised he’d guessed right.
“My skin is…something is tickling me…” Zero held his hand up in wonder.
Cal frowned. “Fuck. Sunlight. You’re not used to it. You’ll…I need to check…” He began to rip at Zero’s clothes, his alarm spreading to his victim until a gossamer thread of enquiry slipped into his mind and then Zero shouted in outrage and Cal was laughing and still insisting that to prevent sunburn it was imperative that Zero be entirely stripped, and as Cal was stronger and more determined, he won the contest.
Totally naked, pale, yet with his striking chocolate coloured hair and green eyes, Zero looked like a new form of human being. One born adult, whole and perfect in a bed of glowing leaves.
As Cal’s fingers roamed over the smooth skin, seeking places where Zero loved to be touched, a surge of love in his heart began to overwhelm him. It happened between them like this occasionally, a read and send from Zero mirroring Cal’s emotions, magnifying them, bouncing them back and forth in a way that sometimes left Cal shaking and raw, almost unmanned with adoration that bordered a little too closely upon worship.
Zero suddenly chuckled with an evil little laugh of triumph at his ruse, rolled free of Cal’s now very weakened hold and escaped, skittering back to his fun with the trees.
Cal, hard and aching with thwarted need, lay back groaning with frustration on the soft, damp, crimson and gold bed.
Undone by love.
It was pitiful.
It was perfect.
Come out from the shadow of that red rock
And I will show you something different from either
I will show you joy in a handful of leaves
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOHN WILTSHIRE lives and works in New Zealand. He is the author of the hugely popular series: More Heat Than the Sun.
TRADEMARKS ACKNOWLEDGMENT
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Captain Kirk: Star Trek: CBS Corporation
Judge Dredd: Rebellion Developments Ltd.
Doctor Heiter: Six Entertainment
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