Third Wave: Bones of Eden

by Zaide Bishop

  “Fox, do you think I don’t want you? Of course I need you. Of course I want you with me. But I am willing to make the sacrifice for my tribe. For our tribe. I don’t want to see you with my sisters, but I don’t want my feelings...” She paused and winced. “My feelings to affect everyone else. Once, I was afraid, and I ran when Romeo was—Ugh!”

  Her back hunched, her head bowed down as a spasm of pain crawled through her.

  “What is it?” Fox demanded, on his knees.

  “Nothing. Cramps. For the past week, they’ve been coming and going. Gas, maybe.”

  His own gut tightened with worry. “I’ve seen you take bad hits and never flinch like that.”

  “They’ll pass in a minute. Stop...” She groaned, her whole body stiffening and then sagging. There was a fine sweat on her forehead, and she was breathing a little too hard. “Stop fretting.”

  “Did you bring a canoe?”

  “Of course.”

  “I need to take you back to the Varekai.” He gathered a bottle of water and his best spear.

  “We’re still talking,” she said, irritated, then she gave a sharp squeal, nails digging into her own belly.

  Fox’s eyes widened. He took her hand. “Don’t.”

  She slapped him away, growling like a hurt dog.

  “Come on. Out. Go.” He prodded her shoulder, driving her ahead of him, and she grudgingly shuffled out onto the beach. The wind was up, the water a little choppy, but the sky was clear.

  “I’ll carry you,” he offered, and she gave him a sour look.

  “Just help me walk.”

  He looped her arm across his shoulders, supporting her as best he could as they made their awkward passage across the sand to where she had dragged her canoe. They were only halfway when she screamed again and he had to grab her, supporting her full weight as her legs gave out under her.

  The pain lasted much longer this time, and Fox could taste bile. He was sickened by his own helplessness. When it passed, she was panting hard, covered in sand where the sweat had stuck to her skin.

  He didn’t wait until she was ready to drag herself to her feet. Instead he simply scooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other across her back. She was heavier than last time he’d carried her, but then he had been weak and dehydrated. Almost dead himself. This time, carrying her to the canoe was easy.

  He placed her carefully inside, then ran back for his spear and the water bottle. He handed her the latter and placed the former beside her before he dragged the canoe, with her on board, into the water.

  “I don’t need—” she tried to protest, then she squealed again, the sound sending nearby birds into a panicked flight.

  He hefted himself into the canoe and began to paddle as quickly as was safe. “It’s okay, Whiskey. I’m here.”

  * * *

  Xícara wanted to leave the lab and whatever was behind those nursery doors. He wanted to take Tango home, just paddle back across the channel and take her back to the Varekai village, where there were no laboratories or bad memories. He was not filled with Charlie and Sugar’s intense desire for more knowledge, and the truth of their creation only made him sad.

  They had no parents, no ancestry; they had been created in this cold, emotionless place to replace people who had destroyed themselves. Their arrogance astounded him. Their sickening hubris that showed such a careless disrespect for the spirits of the world. Their lies and selfishness had tainted everything. If they had been honest, the Varekai and Elikai could have lived in peace all these years. They could have worked together, created wonderful things. They would have children, and so many of their brothers and sisters wouldn’t have had to die.

  “Come on,” he said, arms still around Tango. He could feel her sagging in relief, even though Charlie was still shaking and wiping her hand across her eyes. “I don’t want to stay in here. Bring the DVDs if you want, but let’s find somewhere more comfortable to research.”

  Sugar nodded. “There’s a library down the hall,” he told Charlie. “Books everywhere. Carpet too. There were power points, so we can wheel the TV down and any DVDs you want to watch.”

  She nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling, pulling herself back together before Xícara’s eyes. It was impressive, but he wasn’t sure if he could tidy it all away in his mind and put on a brave facade like she could.

  Sugar pushed the TV, and Tango stepped away from Xícara to gather some of the DVDs. He trailed after her, holding out his hands to help carry her stack, which was growing precarious. The library was divided with numerous shelves densely stacked with books, now dusty and chewed in many places by desperate rats and mice. After checking the room—even looking in the air ducts and under the shelves—for any nasty surprises, they moved apart, browsing through the books, reading, then gathering anything they thought might be useful into a pile.

  While the stack of DVDs had been tempting, it was the books that were more useful. They could not break, they didn’t need power to run, they were easier to transport than the TV. They could take these back to the archipelago with them, adding them to the meager pile they had been protecting since they left Eden the first time.

  The problem was, all of them seemed precious. Books on engineering and biology, complicated math, history, books on composting and ecosystems, books on irrigation that Sugar refused to put down, books with pictures of cities from the world before, full of people and life and art.

  They would want to keep far more than they could carry. The triage process was going to be painful, particularly when there were thousands of titles on hundreds of subjects.

  Inside, under the glaring white lights, it was impossible to tell the time, but it was starting to feel to Xícara that they had been in there a lifetime. His eyes were gritty, his mouth sticky.

  “I think it may be after sunset.” He leaned on the table Tango was sitting on.

  “Sunset?” She rubbed her eyes. “We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “Time for dinner?” he suggested. “And water. We’re getting dehydrated.”

  “I don’t think those two are going to stop,” she said, indicating Charlie and Sugar. They were in different aisles, reading very different books, but both feverishly obsessed with the flood of new information, absorbing it like dry sponges.

  Xícara looked around. “I’ll find something to cover these tables,” he said. “We’ll eat and set up our furs on the floor under them. It should be dark enough to sleep.”

  “What about keeping watch?”

  He indicated the others. “They’re doing that. They can wake us when they’re ready to rest.”

  She nodded, and together they pushed the tables into a cluster and covered them, layering sheets and tarps over them until inside the cubby it was almost as dark as night. Then they sat on the floor, eating and drinking, watching the others search.

  Xícara could feel Tango’s shoulder resting lightly against his. The familiar smell of her was sweet relief in this musky, lifeless place. He wanted to be outside, where the night would smell of vegetation and the ocean. He wanted the freshness of the breeze, but being close to her was almost as good. She was a pocket of rightness in a whole building of wrong.

  “Charlie, you should eat,” Tango called.

  “Soon,” Charlie said, not even glancing up.

  Tango sighed and shook her head, giving Xícara an exasperated look. “I tried.”

  He snorted, amused, and held up the edge of the blankets so she could crawl inside their den, then he went to his knees and clambered in after her. Letting the cloth drop, he was relieved to see it really was dark. The glow crept in around the floor where material had bunched up. It was enough light for him to maneuver around the table legs and stretch out on the musty carpet.

  Tango slithered up next to him, flopping down with a
soft sigh, close enough that he could feel the heat coming off her skin. He tensed, surprised she was so close to him. Cautiously, like he was trying to get close enough to spear a fish, he wriggled toward her, placing one arm across her middle.

  Her muscles tightened, then slowly she breathed out, letting her back rest against his chest. He smiled, trying not to breathe or move or even think too loudly, in case she moved away.

  He’d been trying to get close to her since the day she had kidnapped him and Zebra, but she was always pulling away, never really giving him a chance to show how much he cared about her. All along, this was all he’d wanted. Her body against his, warm and safe. Where she belonged.

  His cock stiffened, pressed against the back of her thighs. Being aroused by her was more natural than breath. For too long, her face and her body had been the only thing on his mind. Her slow smile, the intensity of her eyes. It was a small miracle these things didn’t send him over the edge every time he saw her.

  She shifted, and he had to bite back a groan as that small movement brushed across him. He was intensely aware of the scent of her hair and skin, the heat of her belly under his hand. He was already aching with want, but at the same time her proximity was deeply satisfying as it was. More than enough to fuel months of sexual fantasies about her.

  She shifted again, and her legs parted ever so slightly. Enough for his rigid cock to slide between her thighs, the head barely poking out the front. Then her legs tensed, and he was gripped between them. This time he did groan, lips grazing the back of her neck.

  “Shh,” she warned, her voice little more than a breath. His heart was thundering, and he was sure that’s what she was referring to.

  All at once he became aware of their surroundings again. The quiet hush of the library beyond the sheet, the subtle flipping of pages and bare feet on linoleum as Sugar and Charlie paced to and fro. He was torn between his want for her and embarrassment. He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t want to be caught. The Elikai were not shy, in general, but then he’d never been in love before.

  He slid his hand up the flat plain of her belly and under the leather that bound her breasts. He found her nipple hard, and she gasped at the touch, tensing again, her thighs clutching his cock like a fist.

  He took her nipple between his first and second finger, tugging and rolling it. Her body flexed against his, and he kissed her on the back of the neck. Her skin was salty, and he could taste her sweat and heat. He wanted to please her. He wanted her to want him like he wanted her.

  Her mouth was open, but she was silent. He began to roll his hips, his cock sliding in and out between her thighs, his shaft sliding along her lower lips and across the little bump at the top that Tare had insisted was a pearl.

  It was getting hotter between her legs, and he felt a spreading, slippery wetness lubricating his length. Her hips began to move too, in involuntary counterpoint with his.

  She was gasping as quietly as she was able. With one hand, she reached down to touch the head of his cock, investigating it clumsily but gently. He wanted to ask if she liked him, if she wanted him, but he was still aware of the world beyond their little sanctuary.

  With every pull of her hips she was moving back from him further, bringing the head of his shaft closer and closer to the unseen source of her fluids. He could feel it slide into the groove, then bump out again.

  He brought himself back slowly, and instead of thrusting through her thighs again, he rested the head of his cock against her opening and went still, unsure, wanting her and wanting her approval. Her fingers slithered between her legs to find him. She nudged his shaft up, seeking a better angle. His cock slid into the tight grasp of her shell. He couldn’t hold in another groan; in fact, he couldn’t hold back anything, and his hips pumped, slamming his entire length into her.

  She cried out. A short, sharp sound that made them both freeze. Beyond the sheet, the library was momentarily still, then the quiet shuffle of papers continued.

  She started to rock against him, her body clenching from the inside, and he teased her nipple and laid hot kisses across her shoulders. If someone had told him this was all he would have for the rest of his life, he would have been confident in dying happy. Tango was his world. She was home, life and breath. He’d wanted to believe, when she had risked so much to keep him fed over summer, that she felt the same, but her withdrawal had been confusing. Now he could feel her want shuddering through her. Finally she was his, as he had long been hers.

  Her body arched against him, lost in such sudden, uncontrollable spasms he almost didn’t understand what was happening. Then the hot, warm embrace inside her tightened on him like a fist, and his hips thrust against her. He was lost in the raging heat of it, her climax dragging him down and tearing him open until he emptied everything he had inside her.

  He held her against him, her skin sweaty, her breathing fast at first, then slowing. Her fingers twined through his. He fell asleep still inside her.

  * * *

  “What is it?” Sugar stepped over piles of books, joining Charlie by the door. She was crouched down, frowning, looking up the empty corridor.

  “I saw something moving.”

  “In here? There’s nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?” she asked wryly, then pointed.

  It took him a moment to see it, the damp tread of something that had come inside from the dew and moisture of the night. The footprint was round and twice as large as the spread of Sugar’s fingers. A feline, but massive. Something with paws larger than his head.

  “You saw it?”

  “I saw something.”

  “Maybe we should close the door.”

  “Do you think a door will stop it?”

  He glared. “We don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

  “I think it’s morning.”

  The abrupt change of subject made him pause. “Already?”

  “We’ve been awake since yesterday morning.”

  He frowned. “Where are Tango and Xícara?”

  “Sleeping under the table. We need to eat, and then we need to sleep. After that, we need to get outside. These lights, they’re always on, but they’re white and empty... They’re making me feel sick.”

  Sugar rubbed his face. His skin felt weird, dehydrated perhaps, but something more than that. He realized he wanted to see the sun too. Feel the breeze. He didn’t know how they had survived so long, away from the world, locked inside as children. Every moment his feet weren’t on the soil, he felt disconnected.

  Suddenly, he would have given all the books in the library to bathe in the rock pools and look out over the vastness of the ocean.

  “Okay. Food, water, outside, then we find somewhere safe so we can sleep a few hours. I’m sure Tango and Xícara will keep watch.”

  She nodded, then headed toward their supplies, but he paused a moment before following. He looked up and down the corridor, searching for any sign of what she had seen. The footprints had faded, like maybe they had never been there at all. Maybe they were both sleep-deprived and hungry and dehydrated. All good reasons to imagine monsters. Still, he closed the door.

  * * *

  Tango and Xícara crawled out from under the table looking even worse than Charlie felt. Their eyes were red, their lips cracked and dry. The air in here was making them all sick. Charlie handed around water bottles and shared out food onto the long-dead screens of tablets abandoned on the library desks.

  “Didn’t you sleep at all?” Tango asked.

  “A choice I am coming to regret,” Charlie said wryly. “Then again, someone needed to keep watch. There’s something off about this place.”

  “Lots of things, you mean,” Xícara muttered.

  Sugar dragged over one of the TVs, plugging it in and putting on a DVD.

  “I found this. It says �
�test subject, C-F. 00028546.’”

  Charlie handed him his tablet stacked with food. “Eat. Did you drink?”

  He waved her off. “I want to see what this is.”

  The TV fizzed a moment before the image appeared on the screen—a familiar room, one of the testing chambers, and a small Varekai amid the brightly colored furniture.

  “This is test one with Subject C-female number three exposure to contagion 35GH, a weapons-grade airborne bacteria. Estimated termination is nine minutes.”

  “That’s you, Charlie,” Tango murmured.

  “Me?”

  She studied the young Varekai, not recognizing herself at first. The child was younger than Charlie ever remembered being. She had the same curls, though, framing her face. The same hazel eyes. It was unusual to see your own reflection on the isles, though, so Charlie had to take Tango’s word for it.

  Sugar looked between her and the video, shifting back uneasily. He almost spoke, then fell silent.

  In the video, Charlie was playing quietly, stacking colored blocks. Despite the fact they were different shapes and sizes, she was making a neatly shaped pyramid. They couldn’t hear the hiss of the vents on the tape, but Charlie saw the small puff of color, like someone had clapped chalky erasers together, wafting down toward her head.

  The little Charlie’s breath hitched. Once, twice, then she coughed. There was a pause, and then she went back to stacking. The second round of coughing caught her by surprise, and the pyramid of blocks was scattered.

  Blinking, perhaps surprised by the cough or the collapse of her tower, the little Charlie began to cry. In the corner of the screen, someone shifted, flipping a switch that turned off the sound from the testing chamber.

  The tears already on her cheek thinned the blood, so at first it looked orange. As it started to flow from her nose too, it turned a much deeper red—almost black. The next coughing fit doubled her little body over, and she never did draw another clean breath, but it took a long time for her to be completely still.