Third Wave: Bones of Eden

by Zaide Bishop

“No,” Vivian said quietly. He sounded resigned. “Charlie is right. We have to go. Just...get in the canoe. We can find somewhere better than this.”

  “What if we don’t?” Jacobs demanded.

  “We will,” Vivian assured them.

  Ross fingered the hammer, then reconsidered and put the safety back on, tucking the gun in the waist of his pants.

  Charlie urged Vivian forward over the muddy ground, but the tide was coming in and it was wetter and stickier than when they arrived. He stumbled, and Charlie grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him falling on his face. Ross took the chance and charged toward her. She swiped at him with the barb, but he shoved her, his hand impacting her belly, and she fell backward.

  She struggled to rise, but her previous grace had been sacrificed for her child. Ross kicked her onto her side, then pinned her face down in the mud, yanking her hands behind her.

  “Jacobs, do you have those other handcuffs?”

  “They’re in the boat.”

  Charlie snarled, struggling as Jacobs squelched through the mud. Ross dug his knee harder into her back. There was a jangle as he tossed the cuffs and Ross caught them in the air. The hot metal bit into her skin as he clicked them into place.

  “That was a very bad move, girl,” he hissed in her ear.

  “Jesus, no,” Vivian protested. “Please, let’s just go.”

  “No way, no how.” Ross hauled Charlie to her feet.

  The mud behind him shivered and rose, taking the hulking form of sloping shoulders and claws. Brilliant green eyes burned under a brow of dripping sludge. For a moment the elemental fury defied naming, and Charlie imagined it was the soul of the islands—the essence of pure vengeance.

  “G-get back!” Jacobs stumbled, swinging the gun around and pointing it at the looming form.

  “Jacobs, don’t shoot,” Vivian begged. “It’s Whiskey.”

  “Oh, it’s a psycho bitch? Of course I’ll put the gun down. Why don’t I just hand it over? I’m sure we’re all a shitload safer with her armed.”

  “I am already armed,” Whiskey said, her voice just a rasp.

  “Then you better fucking drop it,” Jacobs demanded.

  White teeth appeared in the mire as she grinned. She held out bare, mud-painted hands. “We are what we are, Doctor.”

  “We don’t need to hurt anyone,” Vivian said. “Ross, you need to stop.”

  “No, fuck that,” Ross said. “If you don’t—”

  Whiskey lunged. The heel of her hand slammed into Jacobs’s chin, snapping his head back. The gun fired twice, and Jacobs was reeling back, stumbling over branches and sucking pools of muck.

  Whiskey was on him with the ferocity of a lion, and Charlie’s heart leaped, feeling something like a cheer rising in her throat. It died as she registered the red flag streaming from Whiskey’s leg—the quick flow of blood leaving a river trail behind her.

  She had Jacobs around the throat. He was clawing at her muddy shoulders, but her arms were as rigid as stone.

  Ross stooped, grabbing something and running at them. His arm came up and down, and there was a sharp crack as the butt of the gun struck the back of Whiskey’s head. Her elbows buckled, and she slammed face-first into Jacobs. He pushed her off, swearing and gasping.

  Ross leveled the gun at Whiskey’s face. She groaned, blinking, then going still, eyes locked on Ross. She was deadly still, but it was not a stillness borne of fear. It was the snake, coiled to strike. Blood ran into her eye.

  “Do it,” Jacobs barked.

  “No, Jesus, Ross, she’s a mother. She’s got a baby girl,” Vivian begged.

  “She’s going to keep trying to kill us, Viv,” Kay said. “Just let it be over.”

  Ross cocked the trigger, taking careful aim between Whiskey’s eyes. The gunshot was so loud, for a moment Charlie was deaf. Her knees buckled, the air rushing out of her lungs. Suddenly her knees couldn’t hold her, and the smell of blood was rising. There was something hot and wet clinging to her face.

  It came off her lips like jelly, salty as the sea—the pink wrinkly flesh of pig-brain.

  Ross collapsed, the gaping hole in his head a smoking ruin of bone and flesh. In the trees across from Charlie, Dog stood side-on, the gun held in one hand. Before anyone could react, he swung to face Jacobs, taking aim down the barrel.

  Whiskey rolled to her feet as if she was drunk, staggering two steps to the left before finding her footing. She considered Ross’s gun, then scooped it up and turned it over in her hands.

  “Please.” Jacobs was starting to tremble.

  “Whiskey, listen to me.” Kay took a hesitant step forward. “You need me. You need to me to teach you about the babies. You need a doctor here. Both of you put the guns down, and we’ll talk this through. There’s no need for anyone else to die, okay? You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, I have a pretty good idea.” Whiskey’s voice was garbled, and blood ran into her eyes as she spoke. She was starting to list to one side, the wound in her thigh causing her leg to buckle. “Move, Dina.”

  Kay stepped squarely in the path of the gun. “No. Put the safety on, Whiskey. You’re badly hurt. You need me to tend to your leg and your head. You don’t want to die, do you? Raven needs you. She needs her mother.”

  Kay reached out, placing her hand over the top of the gun, gently trying to force it down. “Let me help you.”

  “Move, Dina,” Whiskey said again.

  Kay tugged the gun. “I’m not going to do that.”

  She put her other hand on Whiskey’s wrist, and Whiskey pulled the trigger. The bullet went into Kay’s right breast and exploded out just above her left hip. Kay reeled back, mouth open in an O of surprise.

  Jacobs broke into a run, and Whiskey tossed the gun aside, leaping over Kay’s gasping form as she sprinted after him through the mire.

  “Dog!” Charlie snapped. “Ross has the key!”

  She yanked at the cuffs again. He nodded, putting the gun on a rock and scrambling over to Ross’s sightless body.

  There was a scream as Whiskey caught Jacobs and they went down behind a tangle of brush. Charlie watched Whiskey’s arm rise and fall, bone knife in hand. Over and over, spraying arcs of red. The screams grew shorter and weaker, then there was only the wet thwack of bone in meat.

  Dog forced the key into the lock, and the handcuff fell away. Charlie swore, rubbing her wrists, then scrambling after Whiskey.

  “Stop! Stop! You’re bleeding too much for that. He’s dead.”

  He was more than dead, he was butchered, and Whiskey was painted in his gore. She bared her teeth in something horrifically similar to a grin.

  “One more to go, Charlie,” Whiskey said, gaze flicking to Vivian.

  “No. Dog, come here.”

  He slipped up to join her, tight with wariness.

  “Take Whiskey home. Take her to India. Quickly.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  She glanced at Vivian. He had crouched awkwardly beside Kay, cheeks wet with tears. “Yes.”

  Dog nodded. He reached for Whiskey, and when she resisted, he hauled her upright, swinging her around and scooping her up. She howled in pain. He gritted his teeth, marching off through the trees with grim determination.

  Charlie watched them go, then stood in silence, listening as life returned to the forest. The birds, frightened by the gunshots, quickly forgot their fear and started to sing again. Flies began to buzz around the bodies, already drawn by the scent of death.

  Charlie trudged over to Vivian.

  “So.”

  “We shouldn’t have come,” he said quietly. “We should have left when we had the chance. You were never supposed to be interfered with. That’s not how you were designed.”

  “You tried to do the r
ight thing.”

  She held out her hand to him. He looked surprised, but then tentatively accepted, and she pulled him to his feet.

  “You won’t get far with your leg like that,” she told him.

  He looked at the two remaining canoes. “I’ll take my chances. Hope is better than nothing.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Maybe I’ll be able to get far enough east I can find Fifteen’s people. Or maybe there are other pockets of humans from before. It’ll be...an adventure.”

  Charlie folded her arms across her swelling belly. “You know I can’t risk anyone finding out about my tribe. My child will be born soon. I need to know she will be safe. I need to know you won’t tell anyone about us.”

  He nodded. “I promise, Charlie. After all we did... I won’t let it happen again.”

  She helped him to the water’s edge and met his gaze. For a long moment they studied one another. The tears welled in his eyes again, and he gave a short, sad laugh, wiping them away.

  “Goodbye, Charlie.”

  “Goodbye, Vivian.”

  He reached for the canoe, leaning out over the water. She opened his throat with one swift motion, as clean as she could make it. There was no surprise in his expression. For a moment he hung there, trembling, one hand on the prow. Then he slumped forward, air bubbling out with the blood. She looped an arm around his chest, holding him steady while the spasms passed. His eyes went glassy, and she lowered him into the water. He floated at first, then in a great sigh, the air rushed out of him. His body bobbed and danced as the larger fish and shark pups appeared, tugging him through the water.

  Using a rope in the bottom of the canoe, Charlie lashed one to the other and began to row for home.

  * * *

  A mile away, Zebra loaded dried fish and green mangoes into Fifteen’s canoe.

  “Rope, spears, bottled freshwater. If you stay lucky, it’ll get you home,” he said.

  She put her hand on his. “You should come with me. All of you.”

  He shook his head. “This is our home. Safe away from the mainland and the monsters there.”

  “The creatures on the mainland are small compared to what else will come for you here, Zebra. The world is collapsing. The things people did, before they created us, made the world sick. Every twenty years or so the super cells will form and wipe half a coastline off the map. One big earthquake in the right place could make a tsunami sufficient to completely flatten these islands for good. A super cyclone could rip it all back to raw stone—not even sand and reefs. There would be no time for you to flee. No warning. You’ll be gone, and no one will know you were here.”

  “No one but you.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.

  “East,” she said firmly. “If you stick to the coast to the two-mile river and follow it up to the foot of the mountains, you’ll find us. The cooking fires will lead you to our camp. I can’t promise you’ll be welcomed, but you can keep going inland, away from the ocean. There’ll be shelter for you there.”

  “There are predators on the mainland.”

  “Predators can be fought. Your spears are nothing to a storm.”

  She pushed the canoe out into the channel, hoisting herself inside, then scooping up the paddle. “Besides, we have chocolate.”

  “What’s chocolate?”

  “True love.”

  “I can get that here.”

  She had drifted far enough that she had to raise her voice to a yell. “But you can’t eat it.”

  “I’ll remember,” he called back. “East to the two-mile river, inland to the cooking fires. You’ll be there.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  He ran along the beach as she drew further and further away. His chest was starting to hurt, as if she had a rope into his heart and it was pulling as she got too far from him.

  “Fifteen! Come back!”

  “I can’t.” The current had her. She was paddling for the mainland.

  “Fifteen! Stay with me!”

  “I’ll be waiting, Zebra.” The wind was snatching her words. She waved. He stood on the sand and watched her go.

  * * *

  The missing and wounded had been reunited with their mates. Whiskey had Raven and Fox, and Dog was curled up and sleeping beside a deeply attentive Vaca. Zebra had returned forlorn and was inexplicably sulking, but everyone else showed signs of raw relief that the ordeal was over.

  Still, Sugar stood on the beach, watching Charlie’s canoe as she paddled into the shore. He waded out to help her, and they worked in silence, pulling the canoes onto the sand. She had a spray of blood across her chest and legs. He did not need to ask.

  “Whiskey?” she inquired.

  “Will be fine. Even Mike’s stopped limping. We came out of this one on top.”

  “By the skin of our teeth.” She frowned, and he put one arm around her shoulders, the other on her swollen belly.

  “We have their tech. We have two goats. Soon we’ll put both to good use in the new village. Tango, Romeo and Foxtrot missed their last bleed. In a year, the tribe will have five babies. Maybe more. We’ll have animals and orchards. The wild goats and boars will breed up. We’ll catch some puppies and retrain a pack. There is nothing to stop us flourishing now.”

  She looked up quietly at the stars, and he could see their glimmer reflected in her eyes. He hated to see her frown. Why didn’t she see the future as he did? Bright and full of hope and joy. He wanted her to smile, to be glad it was over.

  “There’s so many things out there,” she murmured. “We were in the dome and it was small, but we thought it was the whole world. Then we left it and saw the sky and the ocean, but the horizon is our new dome. We can’t keep pretending the world ends where the sky touches the sea. It goes on and on.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She leaned on him. “Not while you’re with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

  He guided her back toward the village, to their kin and the warmth and light of the fire, but still she didn’t smile.

  PART SEVEN:

  THE LAST PEOPLE

  Chapter One

  Eden—Before the World was Born

  Outside Eden, the noise was constant. Not loud, but never-ending. Trills, buzzes, chirps, clicks, rustling, the world was always moving. There were animals. Not just birds, which always seemed to be there—in trees, in the air, perched on buildings, calling and zipping back and forth in the sky—but insects. The ants might have been the worst, always crawling onto them, always hunting them. Biting. Stinging. With the constant noise, the constant movement, the constant overwhelming force of life all around them, they were always under attack.

  They saw other animals too. Deer. Goats. Dogs. Cats. The leviathan paraceratherium, lizards, even crocodiles on the beach in the heat of the day, sun-baking. Sometimes there were snakes. Sometimes there were sticks and vines that only looked like snakes.

  The Elikai wanted to go back to Eden. But to what? Darkness and death? At least out here there was water. Kindling for fires. Food.

  Food had been hard to come by at first. They’d eaten handfuls of grass and clover. Cracked open coconuts and greedily clawed out anything close to sustenance.

  It had taken two days before Maria had grown desperate enough to eat a frog. He hadn’t cooked it. He’d caught it in his hands and stuffed it into his mouth alive. He’d swallowed it whole.

  Then they’d all started doing it, catching little lizards and frogs. William caught a huge fat cane toad and, despite the foul taste, had tried to eat it anyway. He’d vomited for long hours after his belly was empty, puking up green bile and even the smallest trickle of water he tried to keep down.

  They didn’t try any
more toads.

  Sugar made a sling and killed their first rat, but with the hair, the larger insides, he’d been forced to tear it open with his teeth and scoop out the intestines. He’d poked it into the fire with a stick and it was then, finally, the lessons started to come back. Cooking. Hunting. Building. Survival. All those hours of classes, all those years of exasperated teachers forcing on them knowledge that had seemed useless at the time.

  They started to make weapons. For hunting and for protection. Because they knew the Varekai were loose in the world too. They’d seen them at a distance, moving as a pack, painted with streaks and swirls. They were the true threat. They were the real danger. They had destroyed Eden with violence and bloodlust.

  There had been no doubt in any of the Elikai’s minds that, if the Varekai had the chance, they would hunt down and kill every last Elikai. Just as they had the teachers in Eden.

  They huddled around their fire at night in fear. Four days out of Eden, four days since the birth of the world, and as the sun set, their bellies were still mostly empty. Tonight, for the first time, exhaustion claimed them.

  Sugar stretched out beside Fox, the two of them close to the trees, away from the heat of the coals. It was warmer out in the world than it had been in Eden. Afternoon had come and gone three times now, and the rain that had always begun at 3:00 p.m. in Eden didn’t come. They were getting their drinking water from a creek, but it tasted sour, and Sugar wished with a dizzying sorrow that things would just go back to how they were before.

  “I’m sick of being sweaty all the time,” Fox murmured.

  “But there are crocodiles in the water,” Sugar said. “Where are we supposed to swim?”

  Fox shrugged. “I wonder what’s on those islands? The ones we can see over the water? It looks nice there.”

  “Yeah. But we couldn’t swim all that way. We would need a boat.”

  “You could make one. You made those spears today. They’re pretty good.”

  “Spears and boats are different.” He paused. “Maybe. Maybe I could make a boat.”

  “If we were on the islands, the Varekai couldn’t reach us.”