The trees settled and the leaves calmed, but Storm’s heart pounded in her chest. Her hands shook with the force of it. She had seen the jet’s prototype before she had left the city. This version was larger and faster with none of the fragility she had seen in the original model.
“How did they know we were here?”
Maria had rolled from out of the sleeping bag and stared down at her.
“I have no idea.”
“Of all the marshes in this vicinity they just happened to come to the one we were crossing?”
Storm pushed the bag off her legs and stood up, brushing wet leaves and dirt off her pants.
“How would I tell them? Some magical communication device that doesn’t emit radio waves or electromagnetic fields? Or maybe I sent them my coordinates from the cell phone that I’ve kept tucked inside my coat this whole time?”
Maria’s eyes were bloodshot, dirt smeared on the front of her coat, her pants wet to the knees.
“Then how did they find us?”
Storm looked to where the jet had appeared, following its path over the water.
“Maybe they know how you think. Could guess the route that you would take.”
“Those weren’t my people.”
Maybe it had been the jet barrelling down on them or the adrenaline that pulsed in her veins, but Storm could now see the inconsistencies she hadn’t noticed before.
“You were running from that jet faster than I was.”
There was the smallest shake of Maria’s head her gaze steady with its telltale hint of defiance.
“I don’t want them to catch you.”
“Why not? That jet was from the Corporation. If I went with them I could see my mother. Find out what the hell is going on.”
“You wouldn’t survive in the city.”
“This journey isn’t going to end anywhere else but there.”
She recognized the truth in that instance. They were headed to Rima, the southwesterly path they were on already taking them towards it. She would arrive, not as a guest of the corporation but as the inventor of the Gatherer. The solution to this lay in her connection to it and her ability to understand it like no one else.
“Can you help me get there?”
She couldn’t pretend she could get there on her own. If she wanted to survive, she would need Maria, and all her exceptional skills.
“That’s why I’m here.”
There was a simplicity to her response. Not that it had always been her plan but that this was where they had landed and what they needed to do.
Maria’s fingers uncurled, as if she were physically letting something go. The swell of her chest and the long slow exhale hinted at the battle going on inside her, looking to get out.
Maria smoothed her hair back from her face and pulled the elastic from the remains of her ponytail. In a quick twist, her hair was tight and smooth against her skull.
“When the government refused to acknowledge the damage the Gatherer was creating, Havernal and I decided we had to find you.”
The clean lines of her hair accentuated the high ridge of her cheekbones and the hollows beneath.
“No one knows where I’ve gone but him. Though by now I’m sure they’ve begun to suspect.”
“Are they looking for you?”
Maria shrugged, or at least tried to, ambivalence not a gesture Storm had ever seen her pull off.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
A strong vehemence, and Storm wondered if Maria was convincing herself as much as her.
“We had to get to you first. Convince you of the data before someone else told you otherwise.”
Maria’s use of the word ‘we’ made her unbearably sad. She was using it to make herself feel that she and Havernal were still a team. That she hadn’t risked her entire military career.
“No one ‘tells’ me anything.”
It was why Storm needed to remain on her own, outside the influence of the naysayers and those who would deny what she created. It was the only way to keep her thinking clear.
Again there was an unconvincing shrug.
“You hadn’t shown your face, even though people had been getting sick for months. We had to assume that you were either complicit or couldn’t see the evidence.”
“You know me better than that.”
A look of irritation as Maria bent to collect the sleeping bag.
“You might not have as much control as you think. The corporation has changed since you left.”
Maria shoved the bag back into the pack, glancing up at the low-lying clouds. She stood, the precise control of her movements easing.
“We should keep moving. For all we know they did see us.”
“Wouldn’t they have stopped?”
“Not necessarily. They may want to pick us up later. Wait for us to show our hand.”
“There’s nothing to show.”
“They don’t know that.”
Maria’s straight shoulders led Storm through the trees, her pace steady, though Storm sensed she had slowed her natural speed for Storm’s benefit. She wished Blue were walking next to her, weaving in and out of the trees as he scouted ahead and behind.
“It was Havernal who noted it first. Once he started reacting to the fields, he started paying attention. Figuring out what caused his symptoms and what didn’t.”
Maria placed her hand lightly on a narrow trunk and stepped around it, their path becoming more convoluted as the forest thickened.
“At first he didn’t understand what was happening. He tried to work through it, but no matter how much he rested or looked after himself he couldn’t shake it.”
Her voice was flat and factual, her professionalism giving her a distance from the emotions that occasionally broke through in short pauses or truncated words.
“He first suspected the Gatherer when he would be symptomatic at the office and almost symptom-free at home. He and his wife lived on an acreage outside of town.”
It surprised Storm that Havernal had a wife. With Maria’s protectiveness, she had assumed she and Havernal were together.
“I found him curled up on the floor of his office one morning. His jaw clenched like he was having a seizure. By then we had started tracking the illness. Trying to see if there was a connection to the Gatherer.”
A branch brushed along Storm’s arm, and a sudden softness to the ground made her question whether they had truly left the marsh.
“Did you find it?”
They had reached a more open area, giving them enough room to walk side by side.
“It was hard to establish a pattern when the corporation wouldn’t divulge where the Gatherers were installed. Plus, some people show symptoms and others don’t.”
Maria had her head bent, her gaze unfocussed.
“They wouldn’t tell you where they were?”
“Shortly after the symptoms started appearing the corporation closed ranks. No interviews. Only official statements espousing the great benefits the Gatherer had brought to the world. They claimed the rumours of an illness were fear mongering from the traditional energy industries that weren’t ready to embrace the new world.”
Storm tried to imagine the meeting that would have led to that decision. The open inclusiveness of the Gatherer flipped on its side to become a secretive organization. The company she had created was unrecognizable.
“Havernal and I went to the headquarters. Waited in the lobby until your mother agreed to see us.”
Maria slowed and Storm matched her pace, grateful for the slower speed. Wind rustled through the tamaracks, the tiny vibrations filling the air, better than the vibrations from the jet.
“And?”
There was a reticence in Maria as if she were physically forcing the words out.
“Your mother knew her rights. At that point we were still investigating so we had no official decree.”
“What happened when you went back?”
Their pace slowed further.
“We didn’t.”
A flash of heat traveled down Storm’s front like a spotlight panning across her. Her step faltered though she recovered quickly. Her nerves sometimes echoed earlier attacks, the exertion of the hike triggering a response.
“We were given a strict directive that the Gatherer was not the cause of the plague. I was reassigned to a different case. Havernal went on sick leave.”
Maria’s words carried her disappointment, the bend of her neck giving her a vulnerability Storm had never seen before.
Storm started to speak, her words cut off by a sudden wave of agitation. She drew a deep breath, waiting for the pain to subside. These echoes of being so close to the Gatherer were the strongest she’d ever had.
“Are you okay?”
Maria’s concerned face appeared in front of her, her grip on Storm’s arm.
“What’s happening?”
A deeper, searing ripple of pain raced down the front of Storm’s face. She grabbed a too narrow branch and tried to turn back. It was like being caught in the undertow of a massive wave that drew her in when she got too close. The field was so strong, crashing over her with a relentless force.
She heard a panicked cry inside her head and froze in place. She had the thought that this couldn’t be here and she was reeling backwards, the taste of metal on her tongue.
TWELVE
Maria grabbed the top of Storm’s coat and dragged her back towards the trees, one meter into the woods, then two. Maria pulled as fast as she could, pursued by the soldier-like towers that rose out of the low grasses, their steel arms and humming wires as lethal to Storm as any gun. The coat pulled at Storm’s armpits, lifting her arms awkwardly at her sides so they caught on tree trunks and fallen branches. Storm’s heels dragged leaves and sticks along and left two shallow trenches behind them.
There was no time to readjust, not knowing how far she needed to retreat from the lines or how much Storm would be damaged for each second she stayed within the fields that must vibrate at a lethal frequency. Maria was breathing hard, hot inside her coat, when they passed the place where there had been enough space to walk side by side and there had been no signs of physical distress. Maria kept pulling, once or twice looking to the towers visible through the tree tops, dominating the entire sky if they had only lifted their heads to see.
When her forearms ached and her hands threatened to open she slowed, lowering a now quiet Storm onto what she hoped was a drier patch of ground. Her features were in the same still absence as Mac’s had been when he’d lain in Storm’s shelter.
She found the silver suit and laid it over top of Storm’s motionless frame like a blanket, followed by the sleeping bag. The contents of the pack had spilled out and she lifted the Tupperware with Storm’s emergency stash of medication from the pile. What Maria didn’t know was whether this was an emergency. Storm was pale, her red hair brighter against the colourless skin, yet a slight tension below her eyes made her look like she wasn’t as far away now, sleeping instead of unconscious. Maria returned the vials to the pack.
She sat down, her back against a thin poplar trunk, prepared to wait. She allowed herself to rest, acknowledging her tired muscles and the growing thirst, but more than anything the force that had been stalking her since she had left Ottawa.
It had been easy to ignore the grief when she had been in motion, first finding Storm, then getting her away from the cabin. But today, as they had walked directionless through this relentless landscape she had been unable to escape the truth of Havernal’s illness. She wasn’t going to be the white knight in shining armour, arriving back in Ottawa with Storm and a cure that would miraculously whisk him back to health. Any hope she’d had of bringing home a cure had died the moment she saw Storm holding the empty syringe on the path north of Three Rocks. More in need of help than being able to offer it.
The forest was silent, the tree branches devoid of scurrying animals, the life force of struggling shrubs and the careful determination of lichen having drawn inward, protecting itself from the winter that should arrive in weeks or days. Maria picked up a dried brown leaf, its curled edge damp, and let it disintegrate through her fingers.
She wouldn’t be going back to Ottawa. She could see that now. There would be obstacles worse than this hydro line before this would be fixed. If it even could. She thought of the afflicted who had huddled behind the combine on the railroad tracks, of Mac’s terror when he had fallen into the cabin.
Storm rolled over, her cheek resting on a pillow of matted leaves. At least she was asleep now and not unconscious. But would this shadow of the once formidable Storm Freeman even be able to stop this?
She stood and brushed off the seat of her pants, turning towards the hydro line that waited out of sight. There shouldn’t have been any current travelling through the wires, yet Storm had reacted as if a strong, powerful field emanated from them.
It took less than five minutes for Maria to return to the power line, its faint hum reaching her before she left the trees now that she knew to listen for it. The steel towers extended north and south. With their outstretched arms they looked like a line of resigned soldiers marching towards a far-off battle.
It was like assessing any obstacle or opponent. Exploit its weaknesses; come at it from an unexpected angle. The multiple wires that the towers supported carried the current creating the fields that were so lethal to Storm. Maria would have been standing in the field, yet she felt nothing. Her cells could have been compromised, or the electrical balance of her body under attack, yet she heard only its gentle hum, felt the light breeze on her face. The towers extended south, continuing indefinitely in a long unbroken chain. Unlike a river there would be no bridges to find if they followed its banks or a wildlife corridor over a highway to guide animals away from deadly traffic. The only way through was immersed in the full strength of the electromagnetic fields until they escaped its range on the other side.
She followed the gouges of dirt from Storm’s heels and the broken branches back to the beacon of Storm’s hair against the faded brown forest. It was darker beneath the trees, the early night already siphoning the light from the land. The hydro lines had been the first signs of civilization they had seen, and not the one they had been hoping for. A road or some place with food would have been better. Any animals or berries that this hardy landscape had to offer had departed with the long days of summer.
Storm slept with her hand beneath her cheek. The sleep of the exhausted. Maria nudged her three times before the first signs of reluctant consciousness played across her features. Storm’s presence had added weight to Maria’s travels; she moved slower, had to stop more often and encountered obstacles that Maria would have already left behind. Maria shook her shoulder and felt the warmth beneath the sleeping bag. It reminded her of dragging herself out of her sleeping bag into a bitterly cold pre-dawn patrol in Kandahar province. They had known the enemy was waiting for them, just not where or how strong.
When Storm opened her eyes, they were blurry and confused, taking several seconds to take in Maria, the trees, and the sky before she remembered at least partially where she was. She used both arms to pull herself to sitting, her movements slow and stiff.
“Is it morning?”
Storm pulled the sleeping bag closer around her, exposing the bottom of the silver suit. She frowned, looked at Maria, then the suit again, and took a full circle inspection around them.
“What happened?”
Maria sat down beside her, feeling her own stiff muscles and growing hunger. As the light retreated, she told Storm briefly of the power line that blocked their path and what she hoped to do.
Storm’s pale face grew whiter against the
darkness, even her hair seeming to lose colour. It gave Maria hope that she didn’t argue. For it meant that despite the physical deterioration her brain still functioned at a frequency well beyond that of the normal person, assessing and discarding options until she arrived at the inevitable conclusion. She hoped this plan wouldn’t change that.
Storm hung her head and for a moment Maria thought she was crying, her shoulders giving way under a weight that must have always been there. Maria stood and offered her hand.
“We might as well get it done. Before it’s dark.”
They didn’t speak as they walked towards the hydro line. Maria tried to sense when they arrived in range of the field. She smelled the damp rot of the forest and felt moss give way beneath her feet, but other than the dropping temperature the air carried no other signal. She checked on Storm frequently in case it did for her.
“It doesn’t make sense that it’s here.”
There was real fear in Storm’s voice, a recognition that death had taken a step closer, eager for her vulnerability once the strength of the power line’s electromagnetic field had done its damage.
“It could be part of the grid that’s still operational. Carrying electricity from a dam operating north of here.”
“The Gatherer has replaced all this.”
They stopped before they reached the spot where they had been earlier. Storm’s lifted face shone in the stronger light from the open meadow. Her expression was one that Maria recognized from exhausted men going into battles they expected to lose. Resignation, fear, and yet, underneath, a relief that at least the ordeal would be over.
“Can you feel it?”
“Can’t you?”
THIRTEEN
The woods on the opposite side of the wires were four hundred metres away, if not more. Maria examined the pattern of shrubs and grass, looking for the most direct, unblocked path through the meadow. At one time she could have sprinted four hundred metres in close to a minute. With Storm on her back it could be three times that long, which would leave Storm exposed for that full time. Maria swung her arms, rolling her shoulders. The field would be strongest directly below the wire so she would need to pace accordingly. Start slow, sprint in the middle, ease up if she needed to when she approached the opposite trees.
The Gatherer Series, Book 1 Page 10