Third Wave: Bones of Eden

by Zaide Bishop

  “You will say whatever you have to to justify what you’re doing,” Vivian snapped. “Just like you did with the human trials of the Miranda Vaccine. Just like with those kids in Nepal.”

  She glared. “Don’t you fucking mention Nepal. That was the CDC. I did not make that call.”

  “It’s always someone else’s fault, Kay!”

  Vaca wished they would argue somewhere else. Somewhere their sounds could not intrude on his misery. There was no point in wishing they were dead or even gone anymore, because neither of those things would bring Dog back. He found he couldn’t muster any anger for them at all. He was to blame for Dog’s death. If he had kept his feelings secret, Dog would not have felt compelled to get involved in the altercation. If he had just been happy with their friendship, without selfishly wanting more... But he had wanted more, and life had a way of punishing Elikai for their hubris.

  He closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

  * * *

  Tiger.

  He came to in the mud. For a long while, he had no name, no identity, he was only the rise and fall of pain. Every so often, like a pot boiling over, the pain became too much, and he blacked out again. He was uncertain if this period of namelessness took hours or just minutes.

  He could hear the high-whining scream of someone in agony, and he hoped it wasn’t him. Slowly, though, his eyes focused, and he recognized his own arm, liberally infested with mosquitoes. The scream was only their swarm settling on the side of his head.

  He groaned and shuffled in the mud. The desiccated corpse of a gull cracked under his elbow. He grimaced, then smeared reeking mud across the remaining exposed places on his skin, disturbing the feeding insects.

  “I am Dog. Not Tiger,” he murmured. “I am Elikai.”

  Vaca. His grunts of pain were so fresh in Dog’s mind, they could have been happening right then, right in front of him. Anger surged, only to be washed away by an overwhelming tide of helplessness. There was no defense against the scientists’ weapons—not without risking everyone else. Spears were not faster than guns.

  If they had some way of getting hold of some of the scientists’ equipment, the odds would change dramatically. But they were too cautious. Too suspicious. Any attempt could just as easily result in an Elikai death.

  Whiskey had been right. They should have left them on the damn reef to die.

  What use was Dog, if he could do nothing to protect his people? Had he even managed to protect Vaca, or had he just made it worse?

  Tiger.

  Why did the word keep floating through his mind? His concussion must be much worse than he thought. He could die out here. If he didn’t find water, he could pass out and dehydrate. Who knew how much seawater he’d swallowed?

  He forced himself to sit up, then dry-heaved, then whimpered from the lancing pain the act of heaving caused behind his eyes. For a little while, he simply trembled, grasping fistfuls of his hair in muddy hands, then he forced himself to open his eyes again.

  He was in the shallow water at the edge of a mangrove. At some point beyond his conscious memory, he had dragged himself onto a sort of muddy bank—though it was more mud than bank, and it was a miracle he hadn’t drowned.

  A few yards out in the slightly deeper water, he saw a reptile nose and eyes duck below the surface. It was hard to guess the size of a croc from just the eyes and nose—they were deceptive by design—but he guessed perhaps seven feet. Big enough to consider him a meal.

  Quickly, but without any sudden movements, he dragged himself up onto the bank, then got to his feet. The crocodile was still there, watching him from under the surface, her body just a faint outline against the muddy bottom.

  They were probably all around him. He would have to move quickly. Solid ground was only a few yards in the other direction. He slid around the nearest tree, putting it between himself and the croc, then made his way carefully through the roots and trunks to where sludge gave way to grass.

  Tiger.

  He crawled up a tree, finding a branch to perch on and leaning back against the trunk to close his eyes against the throbbing pain of his head.

  ‘I’m going to build a life-sized tiger from clay. It’s going to be the biggest and best addition to the bar.’

  His eyes snapped open. Tiger. The Spelunkers Bar.

  The gun.

  * * *

  India had strapped a cone of leather around the end of a water bottle and poked tiny holes in the tip. In her arms, Raven was sucking on this hairy teat with a sullen sort of acceptance. Getting her to take it had not been easy. Neither had milking the goat to get the milk. It seemed they were unwilling participants in this experiment. Life without Whiskey.

  Night had fallen. They didn’t dare light a fire and give themselves away, so she and Fox were huddled in the opening of one of the caves, high on the far side of Pinnacle Island. Clouds had blown over, and there was a light rain—not enough to stop the mosquitoes, so they were both liberally smeared with clay. Raven too; so she looked like a tiny white ghost.

  “What do you think they’re doing?” India asked him quietly.

  He glared over the forest and island below them. The light was almost nil, but she could see his jaw working and the angry glitter of his eyes.

  “I’m not sure I want to think about it.”

  “At least they are well fed.”

  Behind them, the tied goat gave a miserable bleat.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We should have cut their throats on the canoe and left them in the bay. Love and peace has weakened us. Before, when the tribes were at war, something like this would never have happened.”

  She sighed. “Are you so sure? If strange Elikai had shown up with weapons to fight the Varekai, are you so certain your brothers would have turned them away?”

  “I think we would have taken their weapons...” He trailed off. “But then, we were so desperate to boost our numbers. Maybe you are right.”

  “What’s done is done. We need a solution for the problem we have, not to dwell on what we wish we had done differently.”

  He held out his hands. “Give her back.”

  “You’ve been carrying her all day. Aren’t your arms tired?”

  “I feel naked without her. Like I’m unarmed in the middle of the forest.”

  Carefully she handed Raven over so as not to upset her feeding.

  “She doesn’t like this goat milk,” he said with a grimace.

  “I’m not surprised. It smells like goat. But Kay said it’s the best thing after Whiskey.”

  “Kay would say anything. I think she’s a liar.”

  “We don’t have a lot of choices.”

  “I have to get Whiskey free.”

  “And if you get caught? Or shot? Are you leaving Raven to me?”

  He turned that bristling angry gaze on her. “You’re a witchdoctor. We spent ten years terrified of your power. Can’t you do something? Turn their guts to worms. Rot them inside out?”

  India fell silent. Remembering all the ways to poison people, all the ways to infect them with parasites and disease. There were a lot, but it was not something she’d actually practiced. It was all theoretical. She was good at poisoning animals, sure. That was not necessarily going to translate to people. And what if she did poison their meals and someone else ate it? She could very well kill one of her own sisters...or Charlie’s unborn baby.

  “I can do a lot of bad things, Fox,” she said. “Evil begets evil.”

  Fox was silent for a long moment, staring off over the trees. His anger seemed to fade into a hopeless sadness. It radiated off him until she was certain she could smell it. In his arms, Raven became restless, and he turned his attention to her, cooing and fussing until she settled again.

  “Do you miss Tare?” he asked.
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  A lump rose in India’s throat. She nodded, momentarily unable to speak.

  “I appreciate you coming with me.”

  “For Whiskey,” India said. “And for the tribe. Raven is important to everyone. We all love her, you understand that?”

  He nodded. “Being here, instead of there. Choosing Raven instead of Whiskey. I hope I’m doing the right thing, but at the same time I feel like no matter what I choose, I can’t forgive myself for it. For the first time I understand why Charlie did what she did.”

  “And why you did what you did,” India reminded him softly. “You chose Whiskey and Raven over your own brothers. And it almost cost you your tribe.”

  He shook his head. “Just Whiskey, really. Before Raven was born, I didn’t think I could ever love anything as much as I love Whiskey. I thought I was so full of emotion there wasn’t any room for more.”

  India looked at her hands, feeling a wave of sadness and something a little too close to resentment. Fox glanced at her.

  “It will happen for you too.”

  “It’s been over a year.”

  “You’re too skinny.”

  “So people keep telling me.”

  His expression turned pitying, and he offered her Raven again. “Here.”

  She settled the baby in her arms. “I have Tare. I miss Tare.”

  Fox shook his head. “It’s hard to imagine anyone feeling that way about him.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s an idiot. I spend most of my time wishing for a good excuse to punch him in the face.”

  India smiled a little. “Please don’t.”

  He sighed and rested his shoulder against hers. “We’ll have to go around the south side of the island,” she said.

  He considered. “Neither the Varekai or the Elikai go there often. The lions probably live there. Maybe jaguars. Boa constrictors. And we have no idea what’s over there.”

  “But it will be harder for the scientists to follow us. They’re not exactly mobile. And the terrain is rough.”

  “We’re not exactly mobile either, dragging a goat and baby,” he reminded her.

  “Well, tell me when you come up with a better plan. I’m going to sleep.”

  He nodded, saying nothing as she settled in the back of the cave, laying Raven on a bundle of leather and fur beside her. The last thing she saw as she drifted off to sleep was Fox staring broodingly into the rain.

  * * *

  Every time it seemed things couldn’t possibly get worse, they did. Charlie had never felt so helpless, or useless, in her life. Dog was dead, Whiskey was in chains. Fox and India were missing with Raven. Construction had stopped, even the hunting had stopped. Everyone was hungry, scared and confused. Or angry.

  Charlie and Sugar were supposed to be protecting the others—leading them. Instead they had brought this down on everyone, because they were too curious and too proud to admit that four arthritic, wasted scientists could possibly be a threat.

  They needed a plan. They needed India with her herbs and magic. If they ever tried to talk in private, Ross, Jacobs or Kay would be there, herding them back to the others. Keeping even their thoughts prisoner in their heads.

  Could they trust Vivian? Could they have a conversation about disarming or killing the other scientists in front of him without him telling the others? He alone was the voice of reason. But that didn’t mean he was on the Kai’s side. Not really.

  “I have an idea,” Sugar breathed into her ear as they sat by the fire, picking at their meager rations.

  She leaned on him, tilting her face into his neck so she could speak against his skin. “We can’t talk here.”

  His lips moved in her hair, talking into the crown of her head. “When they’re asleep, we’ll slip out of camp.”

  Charlie hesitated. She’d been making trips to the lion cubs the same way, but she suspected the scientists knew and were letting her go, since she was always going alone. They probably thought she was meeting with Fox and India—though in truth, Charlie had seen no sign of them whatsoever.

  She nodded slightly, and that was all they said on it then, finishing their meal in the sullen silence that had overtaken the evenings. There was no singing. No dancing. No laughter, teasing and games. They had not even been allowed to have a funeral for Dog.

  Whatever Sugar’s plan was, it would be dangerous. But surely it wasn’t worth being alive if they had to live like this much longer? What was going to happen when Charlie gave birth? She would die before she let Kay take her baby.

  Like dogs, the Varekai and Elikai slunk off to bed when commanded. Charlie lay on her back in the darkness, unable to even close her eyes and feign sleep. Beside her, Sugar did a better job, but occasionally she would see the wet twinkle of his eyes.

  It felt like they had been awake and waiting for half the night before Sugar rose silently on all fours. The fires had burned down to embers, and everything was still in the village. Beyond it, the forest rippled with life. The wind in the leaves, the furtive movements of possums, rats, snakes and owls.

  Struggling to move silently while hindered with a swollen belly, Charlie followed Sugar, freezing when he froze, moving slowly and carefully through the tents. They took no weapons or armor, wearing only the light leather and skirts they had been sleeping in.

  They took the same path away from the camp that Dog and Vaca had, and Charlie found some unreasonable part of her hoping Dog would be there, sitting on the rock, whole and hale after all.

  He was not, but the moonlight bounced off the water here, giving just enough light for her to see the haunted look of worry on Sugar’s face.

  “You have a plan?” she whispered.

  “It’s not a good one.”

  “We don’t have anything else.”

  He closed his eyes, pained, then leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead.

  “Stop.” Ross’s voice rang out, much too close. Charlie startled, spinning around to find a figure lurching out of the darkness, some sort of apparatus on his head, over his face.

  “How did he see us?” Sugar hissed.

  “How did I see you? Night vision, that’s how. Lets you see everything that’s going on in the dark. Yeah, I know about you sneaking out every other day.”

  “We want to be alone,” Sugar said tightly, his arm possessive around Charlie’s shoulders.

  Ross snorted. “Alone, huh? It’s a little dangerous and wild here for a pregnant woman and her beau to be out and alone. Come back to camp.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

  There was a hesitation; she could feel the tension in his lithe, strong shoulders. A slight tremble as he fought for control. Common sense won out. Or perhaps it was that they were here, standing in the exact spot Dog had died for making the same mistake.

  Charlie gave Sugar a helpless look as they trudged back into the dim red light of the campfires. There was no way to escape. No way to make plans.

  No way out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zebra had been sent out with a fishing spear and told to return with a boar. As he had slightly less chance of success in that than swimming to the mainland, he decided to just check his lobster traps again. There were less than he had hoped, and driven by something that was part hunger and part desperation, he made his way to the island he had last seen Fifteen.

  The canoe was gone, and there were no signs she had been there recently. Disheartened, he gathered some wood in her cold fire pit and used a lighter to set the tinder aflame. The lighter had been his favorite for years. It had run out of fluid some time ago, but Jacobs had filled it for him a few days earlier. The ease with which the fire sprang to life was bittersweet.

  His method for cooking the lobster was to simply toss it into the flames, poking it back in with a stick when it t
ried to flip out, and then raking it into the sand when the shell started to go black.

  Not his preferred method, but he was hungry and had no other cooking supplies with him.

  “Enough for two?” Fifteen slid out of the bushes across from him.

  He brightened. “I thought you were gone already.”

  “Almost.”

  “I’m glad, I wanted to say goodbye properly.”

  He smashed the lobster with a rock, then tore it apart with his hands, burning his fingers on the shell. She accepted the proffered half, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth.

  “Well, the canoe floats, and I have two oars.”

  “Good.”

  “I kind of wanted to say goodbye too. But it’s not like I can get near your camp.”

  He darkened. “No. Don’t come near the village. It’s...bad.”

  “I told you it would be.”

  He shook his head, miserable. “Even so. What can any of us do about it? They’ve got their guns and night vision. Dog’s already dead. Whiskey’s chained up like a smoking ham hock.”

  “What if you disabled their gear? Jammed the firing pins in their guns? They’d be helpless without their tech.”

  “We don’t know how to do any of that.”

  “I can tell you. As a thank-you, for helping me with the canoe.”

  He studied her. “Would you?”

  She nodded. “I’ll even stick around, to be sure you deal with them okay.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe I like you.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. You seem surprised.”

  “It’s just everyone thinks I’m an idiot.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I can see why they think that. Not too much of an idiot to follow instructions, I hope...”

  She used seawater to wet the sand and bits of sticks and stones to make pictures. For several hours she sat with him, telling him what to disable and how—so the machines would stop working, but he would be able to fix them again when the scientists were gone.