About the Icarus Universe
Humanity expanded to take up residence within Earth's oceans as well as the surface by the middle of the 21st Century. A fast and brutal world war breaks out in the early 2060s that wipes out almost 85% of the surface population in a matter of weeks, and disaster after disaster meeting relief efforts cause those living within the oceanic domes to retreat below the waves.
Decades later, the next generation calls for renewed efforts to aid the survivors still struggling on the surface, but those grown complacent refuse to change the status quo. Rebuilding isn't easy when the knowledge of generations past is lost forever, and power must be pried from the hands of those who hold it.
All of the flash fictions, short stories, and links to the eventual novels are added to this page a week after publication and are listed in chronological order.
Decades later, the next generation calls for renewed efforts to aid the survivors still struggling on the surface, but those grown complacent refuse to change the status quo. Rebuilding isn't easy when the knowledge of generations past is lost forever, and power must be pried from the hands of those who hold it.
All of the flash fictions, short stories, and links to the eventual novels are added to this page a week after publication and are listed in chronological order.
A Mother’s Worry
The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. After a couple years living in a residential dome, the modest home her parent’s now lived in felt ostentatious. She felt an odd sense of unease being under the open sky and feeling the breeze ruffle her hair.
Ihsan felt a tug and looked down to see Pyrrha’s big brown eyes turned up to her. Soft, black curls bounced as Pyrrha tried to tug her tiny hand out of her mother’s. She pointed to the little Pomeranian that’d run out of the doggy door as their uber pulled up.
Chuckling, Ihsan let go of Pyrrha’s hand. The toddler ran across the soft, green grass. Her giggles blended with the pup’s excited yelps.
“Gentle, Pyrrha,” Ihsan called after her daughter.
“They aren’t going to bite, you know,” Joseph teased as he came up beside her.
The uber’s engine rumbled to life behind them, and it pulled away from the curb.
Ihsan rolled her eyes, and Joseph grinned. He shifted his grip on their bags, bringing her attention to the fact he was loaded down with both of them. She pulled the strap for Pyrrha’s bag off his shoulder, ignoring the flash of irritation in his expression. Slinging the strap over her head, Ihsan started up the lawn.
Her parents’ door opened, and her mother walked out calling to Pyrrha. Ihsan smiled as she watched Pyrrha bounce into her grandmother’s arms. Her mother lifted Pyrrha up and squeezed her tight, burying her nose in the child’s soft ringlets. Pyrrha, two-year-old ball of energy that she was, started squirming to be let back down to run seconds later.
Ihsan’s mother let Pyrrha down to run. She was off and running around the lawn again without looking back. Pyrrha never saw the disappointed frown her grandmother wore for a moment, but Ihsan did. It disappeared as her mother turned to greet her youngest daughter and son-in-law, replaced by a polite smile.
“Hello, Maman,” Ihsan said as she hugged her mother.
“It’s about time you two came back to civilization,” Maman said when she pulled back. She waved them into the house. “Go put your bags away. I’ll watch over Pyrrha as she plays. She’s too pale.”
“Yes, Maman.”
Ihsan sighed as the door closed. She started trudging up the stairs toward the guestroom.
“You know she means well,” Joseph said, following behind.
“I know.” Ihsan pushed the door to the guest room open, and sat the bag down at the foot of the bed before dropping onto it. “I just wish we could do something right in her and Baba’s eyes.”
“They worry,” Joseph answered.
Ihsan felt the bed dip as he sat beside her. She turned her head to look up at her husband. Sunlight streamed through the window, backlighting him and obscuring his face in shadow. He ran the back of his hand down her arm before lacing his fingers with hers.
“Can you blame them after Athens lost that aeroponics dome?”
Ihsan felt a tug and looked down to see Pyrrha’s big brown eyes turned up to her. Soft, black curls bounced as Pyrrha tried to tug her tiny hand out of her mother’s. She pointed to the little Pomeranian that’d run out of the doggy door as their uber pulled up.
Chuckling, Ihsan let go of Pyrrha’s hand. The toddler ran across the soft, green grass. Her giggles blended with the pup’s excited yelps.
“Gentle, Pyrrha,” Ihsan called after her daughter.
“They aren’t going to bite, you know,” Joseph teased as he came up beside her.
The uber’s engine rumbled to life behind them, and it pulled away from the curb.
Ihsan rolled her eyes, and Joseph grinned. He shifted his grip on their bags, bringing her attention to the fact he was loaded down with both of them. She pulled the strap for Pyrrha’s bag off his shoulder, ignoring the flash of irritation in his expression. Slinging the strap over her head, Ihsan started up the lawn.
Her parents’ door opened, and her mother walked out calling to Pyrrha. Ihsan smiled as she watched Pyrrha bounce into her grandmother’s arms. Her mother lifted Pyrrha up and squeezed her tight, burying her nose in the child’s soft ringlets. Pyrrha, two-year-old ball of energy that she was, started squirming to be let back down to run seconds later.
Ihsan’s mother let Pyrrha down to run. She was off and running around the lawn again without looking back. Pyrrha never saw the disappointed frown her grandmother wore for a moment, but Ihsan did. It disappeared as her mother turned to greet her youngest daughter and son-in-law, replaced by a polite smile.
“Hello, Maman,” Ihsan said as she hugged her mother.
“It’s about time you two came back to civilization,” Maman said when she pulled back. She waved them into the house. “Go put your bags away. I’ll watch over Pyrrha as she plays. She’s too pale.”
“Yes, Maman.”
Ihsan sighed as the door closed. She started trudging up the stairs toward the guestroom.
“You know she means well,” Joseph said, following behind.
“I know.” Ihsan pushed the door to the guest room open, and sat the bag down at the foot of the bed before dropping onto it. “I just wish we could do something right in her and Baba’s eyes.”
“They worry,” Joseph answered.
Ihsan felt the bed dip as he sat beside her. She turned her head to look up at her husband. Sunlight streamed through the window, backlighting him and obscuring his face in shadow. He ran the back of his hand down her arm before lacing his fingers with hers.
“Can you blame them after Athens lost that aeroponics dome?”
Warning Tremors
As she searched, her movements were frantic. Evie crammed as many medicines and nonperishable snacks into the bag as she could. There was no time to waste, and the adrenaline surge she’d been riding for the last hour wasn’t helping. It addled her brains and made her hands useless.
Once the news of what the delegates brought home with them broke, there’d be a panicked rush out of the cities. A bolt of guilt pierced her heart. As soon as she got the word, she abandoned her job at the local news station and ran home to “bug out” without contacting anyone. Yet, hearing her children playing, blissfully unaware of the horrors to come, pushed the guilt back and filled her with determination. Whatever she had to do, she’d get them as far away from major population centers as she could.
“Whatcha doing, Mama?”
Evie shoved a bottle of children’s Tylenol and a box of Band-Aids into the bag as she looked back at her youngest. “I’m getting ready,” she answered, forcing a smile onto her face. “We’re going on an adventure.”
Little Nadine’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she clapped her hands. She spun around. Wisps of brown hair flew in all directions as she pelted down the hall to her older brothers’ room. “Mama says we’re going on an venture!” she shouted.
Tears stung Evie’s eyes. She blinked away as many as she could and ignored the others as they traced hot trails down her cheeks. The worn book bag looked about ready to bust, but it wasn’t as heavy as it looked.
After dressing the four of them in layers and loading down their ramshackle car, Evie loaded the children and dialed her husband. He picked up just after the second ring.
“They’re dead,” she told him. “All of them, and their local staff members are being admitted now.” Her voice wavered as she heard him faltering for a response. “It’s E.L.E. type bad. I’ve packed. I have the kids, and we’ll be there in ten. Meet me outside.”
Once the news of what the delegates brought home with them broke, there’d be a panicked rush out of the cities. A bolt of guilt pierced her heart. As soon as she got the word, she abandoned her job at the local news station and ran home to “bug out” without contacting anyone. Yet, hearing her children playing, blissfully unaware of the horrors to come, pushed the guilt back and filled her with determination. Whatever she had to do, she’d get them as far away from major population centers as she could.
“Whatcha doing, Mama?”
Evie shoved a bottle of children’s Tylenol and a box of Band-Aids into the bag as she looked back at her youngest. “I’m getting ready,” she answered, forcing a smile onto her face. “We’re going on an adventure.”
Little Nadine’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she clapped her hands. She spun around. Wisps of brown hair flew in all directions as she pelted down the hall to her older brothers’ room. “Mama says we’re going on an venture!” she shouted.
Tears stung Evie’s eyes. She blinked away as many as she could and ignored the others as they traced hot trails down her cheeks. The worn book bag looked about ready to bust, but it wasn’t as heavy as it looked.
After dressing the four of them in layers and loading down their ramshackle car, Evie loaded the children and dialed her husband. He picked up just after the second ring.
“They’re dead,” she told him. “All of them, and their local staff members are being admitted now.” Her voice wavered as she heard him faltering for a response. “It’s E.L.E. type bad. I’ve packed. I have the kids, and we’ll be there in ten. Meet me outside.”
First Shocks
The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive. Steven wiped his brow with his sleeve as he searched near the gravel drive.
Steven looked back to where Evie stood with Nadine and the boys. “No ‘for sale’ sign,” he said. “Maybe it’s abandoned.”
“You and Nathan check the front; Aden, Nadine, and I check around back?” Evie offered.
Steven nodded and waved for Nathan to come with him. He turned back to the house and frowned, not liking the idea of splitting up but knowing time was short. Dusk was already painting the western sky with brilliant reds and violets. It’d be dark within the hour, and the car sat useless on the side of the road four miles back.
“What are we doing?” Nathan asked as they picked their way through the high grass. “Skipping school, and now we’re about to break into someone’s house!”
“If there’s someone here, we’ll ask if we can stay,” Steven said. He peered in one of the windows. Everything looked dark inside, but it was next to impossible to tell anything for certain with the thick layer of grime clinging to the inner glass. “I’m pretty sure no one’s lived here in a long time though.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong to someone,” Nathan answered. “It’s not right, Dad.”
Steven sighed. “I know.” He tried knocking on the weather worn, wooden door. They waited a minute in silence. Steven strained to hear anything from inside, but the home was quiet. He reached out and tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned.
A shiver skittered up his spine, and his heart started beating double time. Who would leave a house alone and unlocked in this day and age?
“Hello,” Steven called as he pushed the door open. The smell of damp and decay wafted from inside, making both of them gag.
“Something died in there!” Nathan groaned. “That’s why it’s abandoned. We should go!”
Steven pushed the door open all the way before turning back to his oldest son. Nathan’s eyes were huge with fear, and he’d been tense and confused since they’d “bugged out” three days ago. He was just nine, but Nathan was bright, observant, and scared.
Steven grasped Nathan by the shoulders and got down on his eye level. “Even if something did die in there, it’s dead and can’t hurt us,” he said. “It’s sunset, and we’ll never make it back to the car before dark. We need somewhere to spend the night. Just one night. Okay?”
Nathan gulped, but he nodded.
“No way in, but we found a couple old pear trees around back,” Evie said as she and the other kids came back around the house.
Steve looked up to find all three with their arms full of pears. He grinned until he caught sight of something moving across the sky. Steven felt himself blanch as he watched a chemtrail streak toward the ground miles away.
Steven looked back to where Evie stood with Nadine and the boys. “No ‘for sale’ sign,” he said. “Maybe it’s abandoned.”
“You and Nathan check the front; Aden, Nadine, and I check around back?” Evie offered.
Steven nodded and waved for Nathan to come with him. He turned back to the house and frowned, not liking the idea of splitting up but knowing time was short. Dusk was already painting the western sky with brilliant reds and violets. It’d be dark within the hour, and the car sat useless on the side of the road four miles back.
“What are we doing?” Nathan asked as they picked their way through the high grass. “Skipping school, and now we’re about to break into someone’s house!”
“If there’s someone here, we’ll ask if we can stay,” Steven said. He peered in one of the windows. Everything looked dark inside, but it was next to impossible to tell anything for certain with the thick layer of grime clinging to the inner glass. “I’m pretty sure no one’s lived here in a long time though.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong to someone,” Nathan answered. “It’s not right, Dad.”
Steven sighed. “I know.” He tried knocking on the weather worn, wooden door. They waited a minute in silence. Steven strained to hear anything from inside, but the home was quiet. He reached out and tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned.
A shiver skittered up his spine, and his heart started beating double time. Who would leave a house alone and unlocked in this day and age?
“Hello,” Steven called as he pushed the door open. The smell of damp and decay wafted from inside, making both of them gag.
“Something died in there!” Nathan groaned. “That’s why it’s abandoned. We should go!”
Steven pushed the door open all the way before turning back to his oldest son. Nathan’s eyes were huge with fear, and he’d been tense and confused since they’d “bugged out” three days ago. He was just nine, but Nathan was bright, observant, and scared.
Steven grasped Nathan by the shoulders and got down on his eye level. “Even if something did die in there, it’s dead and can’t hurt us,” he said. “It’s sunset, and we’ll never make it back to the car before dark. We need somewhere to spend the night. Just one night. Okay?”
Nathan gulped, but he nodded.
“No way in, but we found a couple old pear trees around back,” Evie said as she and the other kids came back around the house.
Steve looked up to find all three with their arms full of pears. He grinned until he caught sight of something moving across the sky. Steven felt himself blanch as he watched a chemtrail streak toward the ground miles away.
The Quiet Pause
He hadn’t meant to scare the child. It was perfectly normal for an active, healthy three-year-old to get sick and tired of being cooped up in a run down old house and want to go outside. But as much as he wanted the same, Steven couldn’t allow it yet. Nadine didn’t understand, and neither did her brothers, who were growing tired of hearing her whine. So they’d tried to all sneak out while their parents were busy trying to cobble dinner together in a non-functioning kitchen. That’s why he’d yelled.
Nadine sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, and Evie shot him annoyed looks as she rocked and comforted the confused preschooler. Steven rubbed the nape of his neck and sighed.
“I’m sorry I snapped,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Naddie, but going outside right now would make you very, very sick.”
Nadine, who was starting to calm, shifted in her mama’s lap and turned sad, tear filled eyes up to her daddy. Her lip still trembled, and her forehead scrunched as she asked, “Why?”
Evie shook her head at Steven. While he understood her desire to protect the children’s innocence, he was convinced they needed to understand. They couldn’t be awake every moment of every day. The kids needed to know why, or they’d be looking for a way out of the cramped, boring, and weird smelling house for the next few days.
“Remember that big boom and weird cloud yesterday?” he asked Nadine.
“Yes.”
“It threw a whole bunch of icky stuff in the air,” Steven explained. “You can’t see it or smell it, but some of that icky stuff fell back down outside.”
Nadine’s eyes got big, and she scrunched up her nose. “Yuck!”
Steven nodded. “We have to stay in here until the icky stuff blows away, or it’ll make us sick.”
“Oh.” The disappointment of a three-year-old sounded thick in her voice, but Nadine nodded and agreed with a sad, “Okay Daddy.”
She squirmed down out of Evie’s lap, and Aden suggested a game of Jilly and Jake. Steven grinned as Naddie clapped her hands and pulled an eye rolling Nathan along after Aden. “You can be Jake,” she said.
“Thank goodness for cartoons and big brothers,” Steven sighed as the kids disappeared into the back of the old house.
“How long’s that going to last?” Evie said. “The world’s falling down around our ears. Nobody’s going to be making cartoons for a long time.”
“Maybe,” Steven said. He sat down beside Evie and squeezed her tight. “Let ‘em play while they can.”
They sat there for several minutes in silence, listening to the children laugh and play. Evie curled into Steven’s side and lay her head on his shoulder.
“You okay?” Steven asked.
“A little queasy,” Evie answered. “This house isn’t much protection against radiation.”
“No,” Steven agreed, “but it’s something.”
“The food won’t last.”
“We were upwind of the blast,” Steven said. “If we can make it forty-eight hours, we’ll go west.”
Nadine sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, and Evie shot him annoyed looks as she rocked and comforted the confused preschooler. Steven rubbed the nape of his neck and sighed.
“I’m sorry I snapped,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Naddie, but going outside right now would make you very, very sick.”
Nadine, who was starting to calm, shifted in her mama’s lap and turned sad, tear filled eyes up to her daddy. Her lip still trembled, and her forehead scrunched as she asked, “Why?”
Evie shook her head at Steven. While he understood her desire to protect the children’s innocence, he was convinced they needed to understand. They couldn’t be awake every moment of every day. The kids needed to know why, or they’d be looking for a way out of the cramped, boring, and weird smelling house for the next few days.
“Remember that big boom and weird cloud yesterday?” he asked Nadine.
“Yes.”
“It threw a whole bunch of icky stuff in the air,” Steven explained. “You can’t see it or smell it, but some of that icky stuff fell back down outside.”
Nadine’s eyes got big, and she scrunched up her nose. “Yuck!”
Steven nodded. “We have to stay in here until the icky stuff blows away, or it’ll make us sick.”
“Oh.” The disappointment of a three-year-old sounded thick in her voice, but Nadine nodded and agreed with a sad, “Okay Daddy.”
She squirmed down out of Evie’s lap, and Aden suggested a game of Jilly and Jake. Steven grinned as Naddie clapped her hands and pulled an eye rolling Nathan along after Aden. “You can be Jake,” she said.
“Thank goodness for cartoons and big brothers,” Steven sighed as the kids disappeared into the back of the old house.
“How long’s that going to last?” Evie said. “The world’s falling down around our ears. Nobody’s going to be making cartoons for a long time.”
“Maybe,” Steven said. He sat down beside Evie and squeezed her tight. “Let ‘em play while they can.”
They sat there for several minutes in silence, listening to the children laugh and play. Evie curled into Steven’s side and lay her head on his shoulder.
“You okay?” Steven asked.
“A little queasy,” Evie answered. “This house isn’t much protection against radiation.”
“No,” Steven agreed, “but it’s something.”
“The food won’t last.”
“We were upwind of the blast,” Steven said. “If we can make it forty-eight hours, we’ll go west.”
Finding Perspective
“Was it a bad day, or was it a bad five minutes you milked all day?” Amusement lilted in Ihsan’s voice and tugged at the corners of her lips.
Joseph’s frown deepened, and he slouched farther on the stool where he’d slumped after arriving home from a trying day in the lab. “Well, what would you call having two years of work come to nothing?” he grumbled.
Ihsan chuckled. “A disappointing but still normal day in the life of a scientist,” she said. Setting her spoon down, Ihsan covered the steaming pot and stepped back from the stove. “Failure is only failure if you quit instead of learning from it,” she said while making the sign for quotes in the air. “One of the pearls of wisdom you imparted to our daughter, I believe. Is it not?”
Wincing at having his words thrown back at him, Joseph shook his head. “Well, when you put it that way,” he drawled as a chagrined smile softened his expression. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad of a day as I was thinking.”
Ihsan responded with a smile of her own. It lit her whole face, and even after a decade by her side, his heart skipped a beat to witness the beauty before him. She walked across the kitchen and took his face in her hands as she leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Joseph leaned into her touch as her thumb rasped over three days worth of stubble along his jaw.
“That’s more like it,” she murmured with a smile, pressing their foreheads together. “I always want to see you happy.”
Joseph covered her hand with his own and turned to press a kiss to her palm as she stood. “And I you.”
The clock chimed the hour, and Ihsan startled. Her eyes darted to check the time, and she shook her head with a quiet chuckle.
“The evening’s flying by,” she said as her attention returned to Joseph. “Why don’t you watch the newscast while I get Pyrrha her bath, and you can fill me in on the highlights during dinner?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Ihsan gave his shoulder a light squeeze as she brushed past him on her way into the living room. He watched her turn the corner as he pushed away from the counter. His daughter’s high, clear voice answered her mother’s call, and the sound brought a grin to his face.
Ihsan was right. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all. Who knew what they’d find when the data was reviewed? Maybe today’s failure would shake loose a new idea that would perfect the compound.
Joseph nudged the stool he’d been sitting on back under the counter with a foot before making his way into the living room. He clicked on the television as he sank into the plush sofa they’d splurged on when they moved to Delphinius.
“The trade frigate Proteus surfaced for a routine stop in Boston, Massachusetts this afternoon to find the city in ruins,” said the anchor. Images of ravaged buildings crumbled, some still smoking. In their shadow, the chaos of emergency crews and civilians alike digging through rubble and working to aid the injured reigned.
Joseph’s heart pounded in his ears so loud he could barely understand the report. The words epidemic, mortality rate, bombs, and retaliation stood out amidst what he made out. His breathing became ragged, and tears stung his eyes as he watched the nightmare that’d haunted his dreams for years beginning again. Grasping the skin of his forearm between his index and thumb, Joseph squeezed and twisted hard, gritting his teeth as burning pain followed the action.
He wasn’t dreaming now. This was real, not just some imagined day far off or the fevered nightmares of a man called paranoid.
Joseph’s frown deepened, and he slouched farther on the stool where he’d slumped after arriving home from a trying day in the lab. “Well, what would you call having two years of work come to nothing?” he grumbled.
Ihsan chuckled. “A disappointing but still normal day in the life of a scientist,” she said. Setting her spoon down, Ihsan covered the steaming pot and stepped back from the stove. “Failure is only failure if you quit instead of learning from it,” she said while making the sign for quotes in the air. “One of the pearls of wisdom you imparted to our daughter, I believe. Is it not?”
Wincing at having his words thrown back at him, Joseph shook his head. “Well, when you put it that way,” he drawled as a chagrined smile softened his expression. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad of a day as I was thinking.”
Ihsan responded with a smile of her own. It lit her whole face, and even after a decade by her side, his heart skipped a beat to witness the beauty before him. She walked across the kitchen and took his face in her hands as she leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Joseph leaned into her touch as her thumb rasped over three days worth of stubble along his jaw.
“That’s more like it,” she murmured with a smile, pressing their foreheads together. “I always want to see you happy.”
Joseph covered her hand with his own and turned to press a kiss to her palm as she stood. “And I you.”
The clock chimed the hour, and Ihsan startled. Her eyes darted to check the time, and she shook her head with a quiet chuckle.
“The evening’s flying by,” she said as her attention returned to Joseph. “Why don’t you watch the newscast while I get Pyrrha her bath, and you can fill me in on the highlights during dinner?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Ihsan gave his shoulder a light squeeze as she brushed past him on her way into the living room. He watched her turn the corner as he pushed away from the counter. His daughter’s high, clear voice answered her mother’s call, and the sound brought a grin to his face.
Ihsan was right. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all. Who knew what they’d find when the data was reviewed? Maybe today’s failure would shake loose a new idea that would perfect the compound.
Joseph nudged the stool he’d been sitting on back under the counter with a foot before making his way into the living room. He clicked on the television as he sank into the plush sofa they’d splurged on when they moved to Delphinius.
“The trade frigate Proteus surfaced for a routine stop in Boston, Massachusetts this afternoon to find the city in ruins,” said the anchor. Images of ravaged buildings crumbled, some still smoking. In their shadow, the chaos of emergency crews and civilians alike digging through rubble and working to aid the injured reigned.
Joseph’s heart pounded in his ears so loud he could barely understand the report. The words epidemic, mortality rate, bombs, and retaliation stood out amidst what he made out. His breathing became ragged, and tears stung his eyes as he watched the nightmare that’d haunted his dreams for years beginning again. Grasping the skin of his forearm between his index and thumb, Joseph squeezed and twisted hard, gritting his teeth as burning pain followed the action.
He wasn’t dreaming now. This was real, not just some imagined day far off or the fevered nightmares of a man called paranoid.
High School Never Ends
“Wow. The stars sure are beautiful.”
Desiree turned her head and regarded the girl beside her. “We’re lost in a wasteland,” she deadpanned.
Catlin’s ears reddened, and she rolled her eyes. “Well, excuse me for looking on the bright side,” she muttered. Catlin pushed up off the ground and dusted herself off. She stood there, staring into their fire for a moment. “We don’t have to be miserable all the time because the world’s gone to hell.”
“Oh really?” Desiree snapped back with a wide gesture toward their meager camp. “What’s there to be happy about?”
The former prom queen turned from watching the flames to regard Desiree with an expression more somber than she’d thought the other girl was capable of and said, “We’re alive.” Catlin hugged herself, smoothing her hands over her arms to warm them. “And we aren’t out here alone.” She turned her attention away from Desiree and glanced around the fire before shaking her head and walking off with a huff.
“Out of the mouths of flakes,” Aden joked as Catlin ducked into one of the makeshift tents.
J. elbowed him for the jab, and Desiree huffed in annoyance as the boys got in a minor scuffle.
She hadn’t even wanted to go to the bonfire that night, but Zack and Alyson had drug her along. Now she was stuck with this group of kids she never even really knew, let alone liked, unless she wanted to go off all on her own. Neither option was exactly pleasant, but she had to admit, Catlin had a point. She’d be dead now if she’d stayed home like she’d wanted that night, same as everyone else in their little town.
“We’re not lost.”
Koda’s voice startled Desiree, making her jump as he eased onto the ground a few feet away. She felt her face warm, and she turned away from the fire to notice Koda offering her one of the birds they’d been roasting. She accepted the stick it was skewered on.
“Coulda fooled me.”
Koda chuckled. His smile sat somewhere between a smirk and a grin as he watched her pick at the scrawny bird. It made her nervous to try it until he tore a big piece out of his.
“That’s because you don’t know how to read those stars,” he said a moment later. “They’re telling us we’re on the right track.”
“I suppose you’d know, Boyscout.” He grimaced at the nickname, and a sense of amused vindication filled her.
They continued their meal in relative silence save for Emilie and Mal’s debate over where they should head first when they got to the next town. Maybe it was just the mood she was in tonight, but Desiree couldn’t help but think heading there at all was a mistake. No matter where they went, they’d be seen as outsiders. A risk. It’s not like they had much money between them, and who even knew if their money even meant anything anymore or if any of the readers would work if it did?
“It’s not being lost you’re worried about, is it?”
Desiree pulled what little remained of her dinner off the skewer and chucked it in the fire before setting the bit of wood aside. “Who says I’m worried?” she asked without looking Koda’s way.
He made a noise she couldn’t quite decipher, and she saw him shift at the edge of her vision. “No one,” he said. A teasing lilt played around the edges of his voice. “But they didn’t have to. You’re giving off that vibe.”
Desiree clenched her jaw to keep from snapping and proving him right. She took a deep breath as she attempted to get her irritation back under control before giving him the most bored look she could manage.
“Maybe I’m just salty the world decided to end while I was stuck at some stupid homecoming bonfire senior year,” she said. “So now, instead of the future I’ve worked for my whole life, I’m stuck in some high school reunion nightmare, except I never even got to graduate!”
She stood and stalked off to the tent she shared with Alyson, smiling in satisfaction at Koda’s stunned expression.
Desiree turned her head and regarded the girl beside her. “We’re lost in a wasteland,” she deadpanned.
Catlin’s ears reddened, and she rolled her eyes. “Well, excuse me for looking on the bright side,” she muttered. Catlin pushed up off the ground and dusted herself off. She stood there, staring into their fire for a moment. “We don’t have to be miserable all the time because the world’s gone to hell.”
“Oh really?” Desiree snapped back with a wide gesture toward their meager camp. “What’s there to be happy about?”
The former prom queen turned from watching the flames to regard Desiree with an expression more somber than she’d thought the other girl was capable of and said, “We’re alive.” Catlin hugged herself, smoothing her hands over her arms to warm them. “And we aren’t out here alone.” She turned her attention away from Desiree and glanced around the fire before shaking her head and walking off with a huff.
“Out of the mouths of flakes,” Aden joked as Catlin ducked into one of the makeshift tents.
J. elbowed him for the jab, and Desiree huffed in annoyance as the boys got in a minor scuffle.
She hadn’t even wanted to go to the bonfire that night, but Zack and Alyson had drug her along. Now she was stuck with this group of kids she never even really knew, let alone liked, unless she wanted to go off all on her own. Neither option was exactly pleasant, but she had to admit, Catlin had a point. She’d be dead now if she’d stayed home like she’d wanted that night, same as everyone else in their little town.
“We’re not lost.”
Koda’s voice startled Desiree, making her jump as he eased onto the ground a few feet away. She felt her face warm, and she turned away from the fire to notice Koda offering her one of the birds they’d been roasting. She accepted the stick it was skewered on.
“Coulda fooled me.”
Koda chuckled. His smile sat somewhere between a smirk and a grin as he watched her pick at the scrawny bird. It made her nervous to try it until he tore a big piece out of his.
“That’s because you don’t know how to read those stars,” he said a moment later. “They’re telling us we’re on the right track.”
“I suppose you’d know, Boyscout.” He grimaced at the nickname, and a sense of amused vindication filled her.
They continued their meal in relative silence save for Emilie and Mal’s debate over where they should head first when they got to the next town. Maybe it was just the mood she was in tonight, but Desiree couldn’t help but think heading there at all was a mistake. No matter where they went, they’d be seen as outsiders. A risk. It’s not like they had much money between them, and who even knew if their money even meant anything anymore or if any of the readers would work if it did?
“It’s not being lost you’re worried about, is it?”
Desiree pulled what little remained of her dinner off the skewer and chucked it in the fire before setting the bit of wood aside. “Who says I’m worried?” she asked without looking Koda’s way.
He made a noise she couldn’t quite decipher, and she saw him shift at the edge of her vision. “No one,” he said. A teasing lilt played around the edges of his voice. “But they didn’t have to. You’re giving off that vibe.”
Desiree clenched her jaw to keep from snapping and proving him right. She took a deep breath as she attempted to get her irritation back under control before giving him the most bored look she could manage.
“Maybe I’m just salty the world decided to end while I was stuck at some stupid homecoming bonfire senior year,” she said. “So now, instead of the future I’ve worked for my whole life, I’m stuck in some high school reunion nightmare, except I never even got to graduate!”
She stood and stalked off to the tent she shared with Alyson, smiling in satisfaction at Koda’s stunned expression.
Too Many Cooks
The night was split by jagged lightning that flashed far too close to the entrance of the cave they’d found for comfort. Desiree shrunk back from the cave’s mouth, sticking close to the northern wall. She wasn’t any more eager to spend the night here now than she was when Koda insisted they needed something more substantial than their tents, but she had to admit he hadn’t been wrong.
It’d taken Mal and J long enough to find enough wood and kindling for a fire that it was just sparking to life now near two hours later. Desiree was fairly certain the chances of finding a bear in this part of the country these days were almost nil, but the idea of sheltering in a cave they’d found at the start of fall still make her nervous. Bears might not be a concern, but there’d still been talk of wolf populations increasing locally in the last few years. Yet, logically, they stood as much of a chance running into them anywhere, so a cave made little difference.
Koda knelt near the pile, patiently coaxing the flames to grow and ignoring Catlin’s nagging to hurry it up already.
Desiree rolled her eyes. The notion she knew whom she’d hamstring if need be for the good of the rest crossed her mind as rumbling thunder drowned out Catlin’s droning. Visions of blessed peace and quiet were soothing for all of ten seconds until her conscience began berating her for having thought such a thing. As of yet, Catlin hadn’t shown herself to be anything other than a pretty face and bubbly spirit, but maybe their group needed that, especially now.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the cave, and the washed-out had Desiree thinking of someone taking a photo of their haphazard camp for some scrapbook or other. The thought triggered a wave of nostalgic sorrow with the realization there may not be such things again for a generation or more. Thunder boomed, close enough now to make the ground tremble around them, and they all twitched like startled animals.
“Come away from the entrance,” Alyson said waving for Desiree to come and join the others.
“I’d rather not,” she murmured back. While she hadn’t seen anything lurking during that flash, shadows hinted at deeper depths to this cave, and she was loathe to find out if anything hid therein.
Alyson raised an eyebrow as she regarded her. “Our stalwart companions or the possibility of us having barged into someone else’s home?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Alyson chuckled and shook her head. “One. It’s better and safer than being alone. And two. At least with critters, we have a chance of defending ourselves.” She pointed outside where cloud to cloud lightning continued to flash, waiting until the latest peals of thunder ceased before speaking again. “We don’t stand a chance against that, and you know there’s been cloud to ground going on.”
Desiree sighed. “True.”
She reluctantly made her way closer to the group, though she and Alyson remained a ways away from the others. Koda stood with a frustrated growl and chucked his flint at Mal, startling the girls and making them turn their attention to the group gathered around the struggling fire.
“Fine then,” Koda said with more venom than any in the group had ever heard from the guy. Mal fumbled to catch the flint, and Koda threw the knife he carried. Mal flinched, dropping the flint entirely as the blade buried itself to the hilt in the dirt at his feet. “You handle it.”
Desiree and Alyson watched with wide eyes as Koda stomp their way and past them. They turned to watch him stalk over to the bags and start rummaging through for the bottles they’d kept for water.
The girls shared a look, communicating without words as they’d learned to do over the years. Tensions were starting to get out of hand, and both worried about the day they’d kindle into something more than petty arguments.
“I’ll go give him a hand,” Desiree offered with a sigh and a nod toward Koda. “Think you can calm the meatheads?”
Alyson shrugged. “Alone? Nope, but Zack’ll help.”
It’d taken Mal and J long enough to find enough wood and kindling for a fire that it was just sparking to life now near two hours later. Desiree was fairly certain the chances of finding a bear in this part of the country these days were almost nil, but the idea of sheltering in a cave they’d found at the start of fall still make her nervous. Bears might not be a concern, but there’d still been talk of wolf populations increasing locally in the last few years. Yet, logically, they stood as much of a chance running into them anywhere, so a cave made little difference.
Koda knelt near the pile, patiently coaxing the flames to grow and ignoring Catlin’s nagging to hurry it up already.
Desiree rolled her eyes. The notion she knew whom she’d hamstring if need be for the good of the rest crossed her mind as rumbling thunder drowned out Catlin’s droning. Visions of blessed peace and quiet were soothing for all of ten seconds until her conscience began berating her for having thought such a thing. As of yet, Catlin hadn’t shown herself to be anything other than a pretty face and bubbly spirit, but maybe their group needed that, especially now.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the cave, and the washed-out had Desiree thinking of someone taking a photo of their haphazard camp for some scrapbook or other. The thought triggered a wave of nostalgic sorrow with the realization there may not be such things again for a generation or more. Thunder boomed, close enough now to make the ground tremble around them, and they all twitched like startled animals.
“Come away from the entrance,” Alyson said waving for Desiree to come and join the others.
“I’d rather not,” she murmured back. While she hadn’t seen anything lurking during that flash, shadows hinted at deeper depths to this cave, and she was loathe to find out if anything hid therein.
Alyson raised an eyebrow as she regarded her. “Our stalwart companions or the possibility of us having barged into someone else’s home?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Alyson chuckled and shook her head. “One. It’s better and safer than being alone. And two. At least with critters, we have a chance of defending ourselves.” She pointed outside where cloud to cloud lightning continued to flash, waiting until the latest peals of thunder ceased before speaking again. “We don’t stand a chance against that, and you know there’s been cloud to ground going on.”
Desiree sighed. “True.”
She reluctantly made her way closer to the group, though she and Alyson remained a ways away from the others. Koda stood with a frustrated growl and chucked his flint at Mal, startling the girls and making them turn their attention to the group gathered around the struggling fire.
“Fine then,” Koda said with more venom than any in the group had ever heard from the guy. Mal fumbled to catch the flint, and Koda threw the knife he carried. Mal flinched, dropping the flint entirely as the blade buried itself to the hilt in the dirt at his feet. “You handle it.”
Desiree and Alyson watched with wide eyes as Koda stomp their way and past them. They turned to watch him stalk over to the bags and start rummaging through for the bottles they’d kept for water.
The girls shared a look, communicating without words as they’d learned to do over the years. Tensions were starting to get out of hand, and both worried about the day they’d kindle into something more than petty arguments.
“I’ll go give him a hand,” Desiree offered with a sigh and a nod toward Koda. “Think you can calm the meatheads?”
Alyson shrugged. “Alone? Nope, but Zack’ll help.”
Winner of Today’s Darwin Award
The accident wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault really. They weren’t trained for this kind of work. These things were bound to happen. It was just her bad luck it was her suit that ripped.
She knew she was doomed the moment she fell. She’d caught a glimpse of the rebar and rubble on the way down, and she couldn’t avoid it.
Waking up at all was a surprise. When she tripped over mis-sized boots, she expected the rebar to run her through or to crack her skull open on the rubble. Instead the over-sized shield of her too big hazmat suit and the metal ribbing of her back brace saved her.
She’d still hit her head hard enough to lose consciousness, and her side looked like she’d been walloped with a baseball bat. But she was alive.
The unfortunate thing was the huge tear in the side of her suit and the cracks in her face shield. According to the people who helped her now, her team had seen the damage and left her to her fate. She scoffed at the memory. Darwin’s theory at its brutal finest, indeed.
She knew she was doomed the moment she fell. She’d caught a glimpse of the rebar and rubble on the way down, and she couldn’t avoid it.
Waking up at all was a surprise. When she tripped over mis-sized boots, she expected the rebar to run her through or to crack her skull open on the rubble. Instead the over-sized shield of her too big hazmat suit and the metal ribbing of her back brace saved her.
She’d still hit her head hard enough to lose consciousness, and her side looked like she’d been walloped with a baseball bat. But she was alive.
The unfortunate thing was the huge tear in the side of her suit and the cracks in her face shield. According to the people who helped her now, her team had seen the damage and left her to her fate. She scoffed at the memory. Darwin’s theory at its brutal finest, indeed.
A Gift Horse
Hearing her daughter laughing was a rarity these days. She smiled, savoring the moment.
“What are the chances of finding all these blueberries?” Aden asked. His eyes sparkled, and he wore a wide grin. He watched his little sister giggle while she skipped between the bushes, gorging on ripe berries.
“Pretty good considering this looks like a farm,” Evie answered. She guided Aden over a few steps and pointed. “The bushes are planted in neat rows, and there are too many of them for a home garden.”
“Yeah,” Aden shrugged. “But it’s been months, and there isn’t a lot of people left. Someone had to plant them, right?”
Evie chuckled, and she shook her head. “These bushes were planted at least a couple of years ago,” she explained. “They can’t get this big in a year.”
“Oh.”
Aden sounded rather disappointed. He sighed and started slouching off after his dad and siblings.
“You thought we’d find people?” Evie asked as she walked beside her middle child.
Aden shrugged. “I was kind of hoping, yeah.”
Evie’s heart ached to hear the longing in her son’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to share his hope. Times like these tended to bring out the best and the worst in people, and she’d lost what little optimism she’d ever had the day the first bombs fell. She couldn’t stand the thought of squashing Aden’s faith things would turn around, so she changed the subject.
“Come on. Let’s fill up our bags and then see how many berries we can eat before we pop,” she said.
A grin overtook the look of disappointment on the boy’s face, and he nodded. “I bet I can eat more than you, Mama,” he said.
“Oh? I don’t know about that. I’m really hungry,” she replied. Evie ruffled Aden’s hair. “But you’ve got to fill all the empty food bags in your pack first.”
“Yes ma’am.” Aden trotted over to the nearest bush and slung his pack off his shoulders to dig out the washable food storage bags she’d splurged on years ago.
The rapid thump, thump, thump of tiny feet running her way caught Evie’s attention as Nadine ran up to her and threw her arms around Evie’s leg. She looked down at her youngest and giggled at the juice smeared, sticky, and utterly joyful face that greeted her.
“The bewies are yummy!” Nadine cheered.
“I can see that,” Evie said.
“You gonna eat some, Mama?”
Evie nodded. “I sure am, but I’m going to pick some for later first.”
Nadine threw her arms into the air with an exuberant, “Yay!” She danced around the bushes where Evie worked alongside Steven, Nathan, and Aden. As they worked, Nadine made up a tune about the blueberries that she sang while she skipped and played and stuffed a few more berries in her mouth.
“Um, Mom? Dad?” Nathan said several minutes later. “There are people heading this way, and they don’t look happy to see us.”
“What are the chances of finding all these blueberries?” Aden asked. His eyes sparkled, and he wore a wide grin. He watched his little sister giggle while she skipped between the bushes, gorging on ripe berries.
“Pretty good considering this looks like a farm,” Evie answered. She guided Aden over a few steps and pointed. “The bushes are planted in neat rows, and there are too many of them for a home garden.”
“Yeah,” Aden shrugged. “But it’s been months, and there isn’t a lot of people left. Someone had to plant them, right?”
Evie chuckled, and she shook her head. “These bushes were planted at least a couple of years ago,” she explained. “They can’t get this big in a year.”
“Oh.”
Aden sounded rather disappointed. He sighed and started slouching off after his dad and siblings.
“You thought we’d find people?” Evie asked as she walked beside her middle child.
Aden shrugged. “I was kind of hoping, yeah.”
Evie’s heart ached to hear the longing in her son’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to share his hope. Times like these tended to bring out the best and the worst in people, and she’d lost what little optimism she’d ever had the day the first bombs fell. She couldn’t stand the thought of squashing Aden’s faith things would turn around, so she changed the subject.
“Come on. Let’s fill up our bags and then see how many berries we can eat before we pop,” she said.
A grin overtook the look of disappointment on the boy’s face, and he nodded. “I bet I can eat more than you, Mama,” he said.
“Oh? I don’t know about that. I’m really hungry,” she replied. Evie ruffled Aden’s hair. “But you’ve got to fill all the empty food bags in your pack first.”
“Yes ma’am.” Aden trotted over to the nearest bush and slung his pack off his shoulders to dig out the washable food storage bags she’d splurged on years ago.
The rapid thump, thump, thump of tiny feet running her way caught Evie’s attention as Nadine ran up to her and threw her arms around Evie’s leg. She looked down at her youngest and giggled at the juice smeared, sticky, and utterly joyful face that greeted her.
“The bewies are yummy!” Nadine cheered.
“I can see that,” Evie said.
“You gonna eat some, Mama?”
Evie nodded. “I sure am, but I’m going to pick some for later first.”
Nadine threw her arms into the air with an exuberant, “Yay!” She danced around the bushes where Evie worked alongside Steven, Nathan, and Aden. As they worked, Nadine made up a tune about the blueberries that she sang while she skipped and played and stuffed a few more berries in her mouth.
“Um, Mom? Dad?” Nathan said several minutes later. “There are people heading this way, and they don’t look happy to see us.”
What Sets Us Apart
“It wasn’t the easiest life,” Asa conceded with a bittersweet sigh. “It wasn’t the happiest life.” She set a tray of chicory, steaming from mismatched mugs on the table for her guests. She let out a huff. “It wasn’t even the best life, but it was mine,” she finished as she pulled out a chair and joined the couple sitting at her little table.
“The transition hurt,” Asa continued, drawing out the last word for emphasis. “But this group’s been good to me.” She gave the couple what she hoped came across as a reassuring smile and nodded to where their kids could be heard playing in the next room. “They can be good for your family too.”
“Even after they caught us raiding their fields?” the man asked.
He and his wife both took mugs. Their brows furrowed, and Asa fought back an understanding grin, remembering her first reaction to the coffee substitute upon her arrival. She drank from hers in an attempt to reassure them it hadn’t been doctored in any way despite them having watched her make the pot. The woman took a hesitant sip.
“Berger and the council of Little Pearlington are many things,” Asa answered, “but unreasonable isn’t one of them.” She took a long sip from her own mug, relishing the warmth of the drink before she continued with a shake of her head. “If they thought you were being malicious, they would have run you off in the field, not brought you back with an offer of shelter.”
Asa chuckled. “You’ll likely be put at the bottom of the list for delivery come the first blueberry harvest later in the week,” she said, “but you won’t be unwelcome for making the mistake of thinking the farm was uninhabited.”
“You are far more civil and welcoming than we expected anyone would be, things being what they are,” the woman said.
Memories of the earliest trips topside after things happened flashed through Asa’s mind in vivid detail. They raised bumps on her skin and sent revulsed shudders down her spine, and her leg began to ache.
“You’ve Berger to thank for that, I think,” she said as she came back to herself.
The couple watched her with expressions she couldn’t read, and that spiked her anxiety another couple degrees. Had she upset them, or were they hiding something?
“He had a reputation for taking in strays years before the whole thing started,” she explained. “So, folks came here as things got bad, hoping to trade work for safety in numbers. A decent-sized farm with a couple dozen live-in hands grew into a small town in a few months.” After another sip of chicory, Asa winced as memories struck her again. “Things aren’t near so idyllic outside of Little Pearlington.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” the other woman said.
Asa nodded. “I didn’t get stranded on my first relief mission,” she answered, “and the Coalition was well insulated against the EMPs that took out the networks up here. I saw how bad it got first hand and through news reports.”
The sounds of playing children in the other room drew her attention, and she blinked back tears.
“You did well, keeping them away from other folks,” she said. “The more desperate groups aren’t quite so pleasant.”
“If it’s just the luck you’ve all had keeping Little Pearlington from going down the same path,” the man said, “I’m not so sure we should stay.”
“Steven!” the woman chided under her breath.
“It’d be no different than back home, and you know it, Evie,” he muttered back.
“I understand the concern,” Asa said. “I felt the same when I first arrived, but I didn’t exactly have a choice about whether I ran or not as I healed. And I came to see there are a lot of protections against a bad harvest or two turning the group against one another.”
“Oh?” Evie regarded her with one brow raised.
Asa nodded. “Poor area in hurricane territory,” she explained. “They’re in the habit of banding together when things go south.”
“The transition hurt,” Asa continued, drawing out the last word for emphasis. “But this group’s been good to me.” She gave the couple what she hoped came across as a reassuring smile and nodded to where their kids could be heard playing in the next room. “They can be good for your family too.”
“Even after they caught us raiding their fields?” the man asked.
He and his wife both took mugs. Their brows furrowed, and Asa fought back an understanding grin, remembering her first reaction to the coffee substitute upon her arrival. She drank from hers in an attempt to reassure them it hadn’t been doctored in any way despite them having watched her make the pot. The woman took a hesitant sip.
“Berger and the council of Little Pearlington are many things,” Asa answered, “but unreasonable isn’t one of them.” She took a long sip from her own mug, relishing the warmth of the drink before she continued with a shake of her head. “If they thought you were being malicious, they would have run you off in the field, not brought you back with an offer of shelter.”
Asa chuckled. “You’ll likely be put at the bottom of the list for delivery come the first blueberry harvest later in the week,” she said, “but you won’t be unwelcome for making the mistake of thinking the farm was uninhabited.”
“You are far more civil and welcoming than we expected anyone would be, things being what they are,” the woman said.
Memories of the earliest trips topside after things happened flashed through Asa’s mind in vivid detail. They raised bumps on her skin and sent revulsed shudders down her spine, and her leg began to ache.
“You’ve Berger to thank for that, I think,” she said as she came back to herself.
The couple watched her with expressions she couldn’t read, and that spiked her anxiety another couple degrees. Had she upset them, or were they hiding something?
“He had a reputation for taking in strays years before the whole thing started,” she explained. “So, folks came here as things got bad, hoping to trade work for safety in numbers. A decent-sized farm with a couple dozen live-in hands grew into a small town in a few months.” After another sip of chicory, Asa winced as memories struck her again. “Things aren’t near so idyllic outside of Little Pearlington.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” the other woman said.
Asa nodded. “I didn’t get stranded on my first relief mission,” she answered, “and the Coalition was well insulated against the EMPs that took out the networks up here. I saw how bad it got first hand and through news reports.”
The sounds of playing children in the other room drew her attention, and she blinked back tears.
“You did well, keeping them away from other folks,” she said. “The more desperate groups aren’t quite so pleasant.”
“If it’s just the luck you’ve all had keeping Little Pearlington from going down the same path,” the man said, “I’m not so sure we should stay.”
“Steven!” the woman chided under her breath.
“It’d be no different than back home, and you know it, Evie,” he muttered back.
“I understand the concern,” Asa said. “I felt the same when I first arrived, but I didn’t exactly have a choice about whether I ran or not as I healed. And I came to see there are a lot of protections against a bad harvest or two turning the group against one another.”
“Oh?” Evie regarded her with one brow raised.
Asa nodded. “Poor area in hurricane territory,” she explained. “They’re in the habit of banding together when things go south.”
Bittersweet Memories
Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.
“What was Christmas like when you were little?” Nadine asked.
The wind howled through the trees outside, and Evie shivered as a draft of frigid air seeped through under the cabinets and swirled around her ankles. Nadine didn’t look up from scrubbing the potatoes for the evening meal, but the way she held herself made it plain the girl was listening intently for the answer. Evie checked to make sure the wind hadn’t created a back draft in the oven and snuffed out the flame.
“Overwhelming,” Evie said. She took advantage of having the oven open to baste their share of the couple deer the hunting party of their little village managed to harvest. “Everyone ran around busy from the start of the season until the holiday itself. The whole city sparkled with electric lights and glittering ornaments. Warm homes were stuffed full with friends and family bearing gifts wrapped in colorful paper and more food than they could hope to eat.”
“It sounds amazing.” Nadine’s voice carried a soft, somewhat sad kind of awed tone. “I wish I could remember before the war.”
“In a way, I’m glad you don’t,” Evie mumbled. She closed the converted oven’s door before the smoke from the fire could fill the small kitchen. “It’s painful, looking back.”
“I don’t understand that,” Nadine said. She finished drying the last of the potatoes and carried them to the cutting board before picking up the good knife. “Yes it’s sad when something’s lost, but doesn’t remembering good times make you happy?” She turned her big, brown eyes up to her mother. “That’s what you told me when Aden got sick, isn’t it?”
Evie’s hands hovered above the bowl she’d left the bread dough in to rise before they fell back down to her side. Guilt and pain squeezed at her heart, and her eyes stung.
“Yeah,” she choked out as she blinked away the tears gathering. Evie shook herself and floured the counter before turning out the dough to knead. “I suppose I did.”
“It’s good you, Daddy, Nathan, and the others in town remember what life was like before everything happened.”
For a moment, only the swishy sound of bread being kneaded and the thump of a knife against the cutting board could be heard among the rustle of the wind outside and popping of the fire in the oven.
“If no one remembered what we lost, how would we ever get it all back?” Nadine asked as she kept slicing potatoes.
“It’s been six years, Naddie.”
“So?”
Evie heard the scrape of Nadine’s knife over the board before chunks of potato rang against the sides of the pot.
“Tearing things down is easy and fast,” Nadine said as the steady thump of her knife against the cutting board resumed. “Building takes a while, so I’m not worried.”
“What was Christmas like when you were little?” Nadine asked.
The wind howled through the trees outside, and Evie shivered as a draft of frigid air seeped through under the cabinets and swirled around her ankles. Nadine didn’t look up from scrubbing the potatoes for the evening meal, but the way she held herself made it plain the girl was listening intently for the answer. Evie checked to make sure the wind hadn’t created a back draft in the oven and snuffed out the flame.
“Overwhelming,” Evie said. She took advantage of having the oven open to baste their share of the couple deer the hunting party of their little village managed to harvest. “Everyone ran around busy from the start of the season until the holiday itself. The whole city sparkled with electric lights and glittering ornaments. Warm homes were stuffed full with friends and family bearing gifts wrapped in colorful paper and more food than they could hope to eat.”
“It sounds amazing.” Nadine’s voice carried a soft, somewhat sad kind of awed tone. “I wish I could remember before the war.”
“In a way, I’m glad you don’t,” Evie mumbled. She closed the converted oven’s door before the smoke from the fire could fill the small kitchen. “It’s painful, looking back.”
“I don’t understand that,” Nadine said. She finished drying the last of the potatoes and carried them to the cutting board before picking up the good knife. “Yes it’s sad when something’s lost, but doesn’t remembering good times make you happy?” She turned her big, brown eyes up to her mother. “That’s what you told me when Aden got sick, isn’t it?”
Evie’s hands hovered above the bowl she’d left the bread dough in to rise before they fell back down to her side. Guilt and pain squeezed at her heart, and her eyes stung.
“Yeah,” she choked out as she blinked away the tears gathering. Evie shook herself and floured the counter before turning out the dough to knead. “I suppose I did.”
“It’s good you, Daddy, Nathan, and the others in town remember what life was like before everything happened.”
For a moment, only the swishy sound of bread being kneaded and the thump of a knife against the cutting board could be heard among the rustle of the wind outside and popping of the fire in the oven.
“If no one remembered what we lost, how would we ever get it all back?” Nadine asked as she kept slicing potatoes.
“It’s been six years, Naddie.”
“So?”
Evie heard the scrape of Nadine’s knife over the board before chunks of potato rang against the sides of the pot.
“Tearing things down is easy and fast,” Nadine said as the steady thump of her knife against the cutting board resumed. “Building takes a while, so I’m not worried.”
Strategies in Education
“He looks like he’s struggling pretty hard over there.”
Sarah looked up and followed Pyrrha’s line of sight to find her brother and his group. He’d been shunted aside again. Out of the group of six, only Adam sat near Eric or paid him any attention. He was stressed for sure. She could see it in his posture and the way he was digging his fingers into his leg so hard the knuckles blanched.
Frowning, Sarah squeezed her pencil, imagining it as the teacher’s neck to try and burn off some of her frustration. It started to crackle, and though the sound sent a shiver of satisfaction through her, she eased her grip. She didn’t have another, and drawing Mrs. Frank’s irritation would do nothing to help Eric. Knowing the old goat, she’d somehow twist it into being Eric’s fault.
“Yeah it does,” Sarah murmured back to Pyrrha.
“Maybe we should ask if we can swap groups,” Pyrrha said. “See if we can help.”
Sarah gave Pyrrha a sad smile but shook her head. “That’d just make it worse,” she said. Pyrrha’s brow creased, and Sarah spoke before she could ask her obvious question. “I tried last week, even though the Blevens family warned us about her. She won’t let me anywhere near Eric in class, and just pushes him more if I try.”
One of the other girls in their group cleared their throat. Sarah and Pyrrha looked up from where they’d hunkered over to have their whispered conversation to find the others glaring at them.
“Do your share of the work, or we’ll ask Mrs. Frank to remove you from our group,” sneared Kara.
“We are,” Pyrrha answered and held up her sheet of chemical equations as proof.
Sarah followed suit, lifting her page to show the other girls she’d finished seven of her ten already as well. Kara’s face flushed nearly purple, and she looked like she smelled something foul. But she huffed and hushed, so Pyrrha and Sarah returned to their conversation after a quick glance around the room assured them Mrs. Frank was too busy helping the third group to bother with them.
“What do you mean she won’t let you near Eric in class?” Pyrrha asked. “Why not?”
“She’s convinced I’ll do his work for him,” Sarah said. Anger set her ears burning just remembering the awful things that woman had said and right in front of Eric too, like he couldn’t understand her! “She’s one of those people who equate speaking with one’s vocal tract with intelligence, so she refuses to believe his work is his unless she sees him do it all in class.”
Pyrrha, bless her, looked like someone had slapped her. As much as she loved how quick her friend was to stand up and shout about something she saw as wrong, Sarah dreaded what would happen if she did so now. All the other families they’d spoken with about this particular teacher before the start of the year agreed, she was too bone headed to listen and spiteful enough to make life miserable for those she deemed a “waste of time.” But, she wouldn’t mess with a student’s grades, so they had a plan for how to deal with the year.
“She doesn’t deserve to be a teacher,” Pyrrha hissed.
“No she doesn’t,” Sarah agreed. “But the council doesn’t have anywhere else they can use her, so we’re stuck with her.”
“You mean someone’s already brought it up?”
Sarah nodded. “Pretty much all of the families in the community.” Pyrrha’s frown deepened, and Sarah didn’t like the color she was beginning to turn. “But don’t worry, we have a plan,” she assured the other girl in an effort to keep her from exploding.
“You do?” she asked. “What?”
Kara cleared her throat again, drawing the girls’ attention to her and the others. Kara tapped her wristband and glared. Sarah rolled her eyes and waved at the girl.
“I’ll tell you after school,” Sarah whispered, much to Pyrrha’s apparent disappointment. “We’d better finish this up before the bell rings or Kara’s head explodes.”
Sarah looked up and followed Pyrrha’s line of sight to find her brother and his group. He’d been shunted aside again. Out of the group of six, only Adam sat near Eric or paid him any attention. He was stressed for sure. She could see it in his posture and the way he was digging his fingers into his leg so hard the knuckles blanched.
Frowning, Sarah squeezed her pencil, imagining it as the teacher’s neck to try and burn off some of her frustration. It started to crackle, and though the sound sent a shiver of satisfaction through her, she eased her grip. She didn’t have another, and drawing Mrs. Frank’s irritation would do nothing to help Eric. Knowing the old goat, she’d somehow twist it into being Eric’s fault.
“Yeah it does,” Sarah murmured back to Pyrrha.
“Maybe we should ask if we can swap groups,” Pyrrha said. “See if we can help.”
Sarah gave Pyrrha a sad smile but shook her head. “That’d just make it worse,” she said. Pyrrha’s brow creased, and Sarah spoke before she could ask her obvious question. “I tried last week, even though the Blevens family warned us about her. She won’t let me anywhere near Eric in class, and just pushes him more if I try.”
One of the other girls in their group cleared their throat. Sarah and Pyrrha looked up from where they’d hunkered over to have their whispered conversation to find the others glaring at them.
“Do your share of the work, or we’ll ask Mrs. Frank to remove you from our group,” sneared Kara.
“We are,” Pyrrha answered and held up her sheet of chemical equations as proof.
Sarah followed suit, lifting her page to show the other girls she’d finished seven of her ten already as well. Kara’s face flushed nearly purple, and she looked like she smelled something foul. But she huffed and hushed, so Pyrrha and Sarah returned to their conversation after a quick glance around the room assured them Mrs. Frank was too busy helping the third group to bother with them.
“What do you mean she won’t let you near Eric in class?” Pyrrha asked. “Why not?”
“She’s convinced I’ll do his work for him,” Sarah said. Anger set her ears burning just remembering the awful things that woman had said and right in front of Eric too, like he couldn’t understand her! “She’s one of those people who equate speaking with one’s vocal tract with intelligence, so she refuses to believe his work is his unless she sees him do it all in class.”
Pyrrha, bless her, looked like someone had slapped her. As much as she loved how quick her friend was to stand up and shout about something she saw as wrong, Sarah dreaded what would happen if she did so now. All the other families they’d spoken with about this particular teacher before the start of the year agreed, she was too bone headed to listen and spiteful enough to make life miserable for those she deemed a “waste of time.” But, she wouldn’t mess with a student’s grades, so they had a plan for how to deal with the year.
“She doesn’t deserve to be a teacher,” Pyrrha hissed.
“No she doesn’t,” Sarah agreed. “But the council doesn’t have anywhere else they can use her, so we’re stuck with her.”
“You mean someone’s already brought it up?”
Sarah nodded. “Pretty much all of the families in the community.” Pyrrha’s frown deepened, and Sarah didn’t like the color she was beginning to turn. “But don’t worry, we have a plan,” she assured the other girl in an effort to keep her from exploding.
“You do?” she asked. “What?”
Kara cleared her throat again, drawing the girls’ attention to her and the others. Kara tapped her wristband and glared. Sarah rolled her eyes and waved at the girl.
“I’ll tell you after school,” Sarah whispered, much to Pyrrha’s apparent disappointment. “We’d better finish this up before the bell rings or Kara’s head explodes.”
Please Don’t Cook Me Dinner
“I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”
Surprised by his fiance's voice, Charles dropped the pan he’d been retrieving. He leaned back to look around the cabinet door and pouted up at Andrea. “Isn’t that a fine thank you?” he whined. “I just wanted to make you something special.”
Andrea rolled her eyes and groaned. Charles replaced the pan and stood as Andrea walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him on the cheek before pulling back enough to look him in the eye.
“I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But please, anything but cooking.”
“What makes you think I can’t cook?” Charles asked. “I’m a chemist. I can cook!”
Andrea chuckled. “Um…I’ve tasted your cooking,” she teased. “And while I realize it’s a practical form of chemistry, you refuse to take others results into consideration before conducting your culinary experiments.” She gave him one last squeeze before releasing him and turning her attention to putting everything he’d gotten out back up. “There’s nothing shameful about following a recipe.”
“The best home cooks create through instinct and inspiration,” Charles argued. He stepped back and leaned against the counter on the other side of the kitchen to give her room to work. “Mom never uses recipes, and she’s a great cook.”
Andrea shook her head and let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “You aren’t your mother, Charles,” she deadpanned. Putting the last of the ingredients back into the refrigerator, Andrea turned and leaned against the opposite counter.
“It’s not so much the basics,” she said. Her expression was a mix of unease and concentration, and the words came slow like she was considering each one before saying it. “It’s the way you season everything.”
“What’s wrong with the way I season stuff?” Charles asked.
“The combinations don’t mesh.”
“But it always smells good.” Charles didn’t know if he should feel hurt or confused. “Smell makes up a lot of our sense of taste, so if it smells good, it ought to taste good. Right?”
Understanding sparked in Andrea’s eyes, and her expression cleared. Two steps forward, and she wrapped her arms around his waist again and leaned in to give him a quick kiss.
“Charles, darling, your sense of smell is horrific,” she said. “I know it seems normal to you growing up with it and all, but those infections wrecked the nerves.” One eyebrow arched, and she smirked. “Remember the other night, when you thought I was making cinnamon rolls for dinner?”
“They were garlic knots to go with spaghetti,” Charles murmured. His face flushed hot, and he sighed. “Okay, I get your point.” He frowned. “So what’ll we do for our anniversary?”
“Well,” Andrea drawled with a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. “If you’ll let me, I could always teach you how to cook something edible.”
Surprised by his fiance's voice, Charles dropped the pan he’d been retrieving. He leaned back to look around the cabinet door and pouted up at Andrea. “Isn’t that a fine thank you?” he whined. “I just wanted to make you something special.”
Andrea rolled her eyes and groaned. Charles replaced the pan and stood as Andrea walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him on the cheek before pulling back enough to look him in the eye.
“I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But please, anything but cooking.”
“What makes you think I can’t cook?” Charles asked. “I’m a chemist. I can cook!”
Andrea chuckled. “Um…I’ve tasted your cooking,” she teased. “And while I realize it’s a practical form of chemistry, you refuse to take others results into consideration before conducting your culinary experiments.” She gave him one last squeeze before releasing him and turning her attention to putting everything he’d gotten out back up. “There’s nothing shameful about following a recipe.”
“The best home cooks create through instinct and inspiration,” Charles argued. He stepped back and leaned against the counter on the other side of the kitchen to give her room to work. “Mom never uses recipes, and she’s a great cook.”
Andrea shook her head and let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “You aren’t your mother, Charles,” she deadpanned. Putting the last of the ingredients back into the refrigerator, Andrea turned and leaned against the opposite counter.
“It’s not so much the basics,” she said. Her expression was a mix of unease and concentration, and the words came slow like she was considering each one before saying it. “It’s the way you season everything.”
“What’s wrong with the way I season stuff?” Charles asked.
“The combinations don’t mesh.”
“But it always smells good.” Charles didn’t know if he should feel hurt or confused. “Smell makes up a lot of our sense of taste, so if it smells good, it ought to taste good. Right?”
Understanding sparked in Andrea’s eyes, and her expression cleared. Two steps forward, and she wrapped her arms around his waist again and leaned in to give him a quick kiss.
“Charles, darling, your sense of smell is horrific,” she said. “I know it seems normal to you growing up with it and all, but those infections wrecked the nerves.” One eyebrow arched, and she smirked. “Remember the other night, when you thought I was making cinnamon rolls for dinner?”
“They were garlic knots to go with spaghetti,” Charles murmured. His face flushed hot, and he sighed. “Okay, I get your point.” He frowned. “So what’ll we do for our anniversary?”
“Well,” Andrea drawled with a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. “If you’ll let me, I could always teach you how to cook something edible.”
Icarus Awakens
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"Icarus Awakens" is a short story detailing Pyrrha's first salvage mission to the surface where she sees the devastation left behind and continued struggles of the Surfacers first-hand. There, what she sees is at odds with what she has been told about the surface and its peoples throughout her life.
"Icarus Awakens" is only available in Daydreams and Myth, a collection of short works by A. B. England. Additionally, the collection also contains the first chapter to The Icarus Project, the upcoming first novel for the Icarus Series. |
The Lesser of Two
“You really think this is a good idea?” Naddie asked her mother.
“Nope.” Evie didn’t pause in her cleaning. They’d just finished dinner, and the two of them had waved the others outside while they cleared the table.
“Good. I’d be concerned if you did,” came Naddie’s terse reply. She scraped the few scraps left behind into the slop bucket that’d be taken out to the hogs come morning.
“I just don’t see what you and Huxley think’ll come of this,” she continued. “Asa’s.” Naddie floundered for what she wanted to say. “Asa’s Asa. She’s reticent and spikey, and she can’t read people worth much. Pound will eat her alive.”
“She’s a grown woman, Naddie,” Evie chided. She finished with the first few dishes and started putting them away as she dried them. “Asa’s not a people person, no, but she can handle herself.”
Nadine gathered up the last few dishes and took them to the counter, setting them down with a clatter. “Taking care of herself isn’t what I’m worried about, Mama.” She took the first dish off the top of the stack and started washing it.
“Huxley, for all his flaws, is a straightforward man,” Nadine continued as she worked. “Most folks in Little Pearlington are. Asa hasn’t had to deal with slick talkers like Pound in twenty years! Even here, that tendency of hers to see stuff as literal first has caused her some problems. Almost no one but you and me can tell when she’s joking, and she might as well flip a coin half the time when she’s trying to tell whether someone’s fooling or not.”
Naddie looked her mother in the eye as she passed her the plate to dry. “You and Huxley really want her to turn spy? What do you think Pound will do to her if he suspects she’s slipping you information?”
Evie sighed and shook her head. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement,” she admonished. “I know you’re protective of Asa. I am too, but you have to see this is the lesser of two evils.”
“You're trading our main chemist for ammo!”
“We’re trying to prevent a soft siege!”
Mother and daughter stared at one another, one fuming and the other defensive. Evie broke eye contact first, glancing toward either door.
“And keep your voice down,” she hissed. “The last thing we need is word getting out about this. I only told you because I need you to back us up when we pose it to her tomorrow.”
“And if I refuse?”
“We’ll approach her anyway,” Evie said. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. “They’re gonna take her either way, baby doll. You know how many genuine scientists with her kind of experience there still are on the surface?”
“Who knows?” Naddie countered, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not like news travels the way it used to.”
“Exactly!” Evie nudged Naddie to continue washing, and she turned to put away the one she’d finished drying. “Without the connection we used to have, Asa may as well be the only one left, and you’re her only student in all these years. Pound’s made it clear he wants her. You think he’s really going to drop it if we say no?”
Nadine frowned down at the pot she was scrubbing. She bunched up the course rag and scrubbed harder, taking her frustration out on the cookware.
“No, he won’t,” she admitted finally.
“This way,” Evie said, voice soft and understanding though no less firm, “Little Pearlington stays at full strength, and Asa’s treated as a guest. No hurting for food or medicine. No fighting. Even if Asa does mess up and get herself caught, Pound wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt her because that’d just hurt him.
“It gives us time and inside information we can use to build allies, and hopefully we can get Pound out of our hair for good.”
“Nope.” Evie didn’t pause in her cleaning. They’d just finished dinner, and the two of them had waved the others outside while they cleared the table.
“Good. I’d be concerned if you did,” came Naddie’s terse reply. She scraped the few scraps left behind into the slop bucket that’d be taken out to the hogs come morning.
“I just don’t see what you and Huxley think’ll come of this,” she continued. “Asa’s.” Naddie floundered for what she wanted to say. “Asa’s Asa. She’s reticent and spikey, and she can’t read people worth much. Pound will eat her alive.”
“She’s a grown woman, Naddie,” Evie chided. She finished with the first few dishes and started putting them away as she dried them. “Asa’s not a people person, no, but she can handle herself.”
Nadine gathered up the last few dishes and took them to the counter, setting them down with a clatter. “Taking care of herself isn’t what I’m worried about, Mama.” She took the first dish off the top of the stack and started washing it.
“Huxley, for all his flaws, is a straightforward man,” Nadine continued as she worked. “Most folks in Little Pearlington are. Asa hasn’t had to deal with slick talkers like Pound in twenty years! Even here, that tendency of hers to see stuff as literal first has caused her some problems. Almost no one but you and me can tell when she’s joking, and she might as well flip a coin half the time when she’s trying to tell whether someone’s fooling or not.”
Naddie looked her mother in the eye as she passed her the plate to dry. “You and Huxley really want her to turn spy? What do you think Pound will do to her if he suspects she’s slipping you information?”
Evie sighed and shook her head. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement,” she admonished. “I know you’re protective of Asa. I am too, but you have to see this is the lesser of two evils.”
“You're trading our main chemist for ammo!”
“We’re trying to prevent a soft siege!”
Mother and daughter stared at one another, one fuming and the other defensive. Evie broke eye contact first, glancing toward either door.
“And keep your voice down,” she hissed. “The last thing we need is word getting out about this. I only told you because I need you to back us up when we pose it to her tomorrow.”
“And if I refuse?”
“We’ll approach her anyway,” Evie said. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. “They’re gonna take her either way, baby doll. You know how many genuine scientists with her kind of experience there still are on the surface?”
“Who knows?” Naddie countered, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not like news travels the way it used to.”
“Exactly!” Evie nudged Naddie to continue washing, and she turned to put away the one she’d finished drying. “Without the connection we used to have, Asa may as well be the only one left, and you’re her only student in all these years. Pound’s made it clear he wants her. You think he’s really going to drop it if we say no?”
Nadine frowned down at the pot she was scrubbing. She bunched up the course rag and scrubbed harder, taking her frustration out on the cookware.
“No, he won’t,” she admitted finally.
“This way,” Evie said, voice soft and understanding though no less firm, “Little Pearlington stays at full strength, and Asa’s treated as a guest. No hurting for food or medicine. No fighting. Even if Asa does mess up and get herself caught, Pound wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt her because that’d just hurt him.
“It gives us time and inside information we can use to build allies, and hopefully we can get Pound out of our hair for good.”
An Awkward Tea Party
“I don’t do well with hints,” Asa said. A tired sigh escaped her as she set the tray on the table. She looked past Huxley and Evie to focus on her student.
“You’re an adult.” Asa set a steaming cup in front of Nadine, making sure to meet her gaze before focusing on passing out the cups. “Speak your mind.”
Naddie studied the drink sat before her, fiddling with the handle. The cup scraped over the table’s worn surface as she muttered, “I think you should consider it.”
The quiet statement hit Asa like a kick to the chest, making it difficult to breathe. She sat in the only open chair and took the last cup, setting it carefully in front of herself before daring to look toward Naddie. “Your reasoning?”
“It buys us time,” Naddie answered. “And you can keep an eye on him.”
Asa nearly choked on her tea. She coughed a couple times before clearing her throat. “You want me to babysit Jacob Pound?”
Evie shook her head, drawing Asa’s attention away from Naddie. “Not babysit,” Evie said. “Monitor.”
“Spy on, you mean.” Asa regarded the mother and daughter, women she often called friends, with a knot twisting in her gut. Had she been wrong again?
“You know how useful I’d be at something like that the same as you know what kind of man he is.” She turned to Huxley. “That’s why you took the risk of sneaking me out of his territory when you found me, isn’t it?”
“Times have changed, Asa,” Huxley said. “Pound holds the power in these parts nowadays. We can’t no more live without trading with East Woods than we can survive fighting ‘em, and they’ve taken a powerful interest in you.”
His shoulders sagged, and he settled back into his chair with a tired sigh. “I know we don’t always get on so well, but I think you know how much I value you. Half the town’d be long dead without you, and we know it. But we’ll be just as dead if we lose the treaty with East Woods.”
A chill raced down Asa’s spine, making her shiver. “He’s threatened to break the treaty?”
“Not in so many words,” Evie said. “If you want to be literal about it, he merely threatened to cut next month’s trade shipment by a bit more than half. But with all of the raids lately.” Her voice trailed off as she ended her statement with a twist to her expression. Evie lifted her cup and took a long sip.
The knot in Asa’s stomach sat there like a stone, and the usually soothing tea did nothing to ease it. She looked around the table, searching for some sign the voice in her head crowing they were finally telling her the truth of how they felt about her was wrong. Huxley frowned, eyes glazed over as he stared into the distance. Evie shifted in her chair, carefully avoiding eye contact as she took another sip of her tea, and Naddie had yet to stop fidgeting with her cup. The thought they were hiding something nagged at the back of her mind. What it was, she couldn’t guess.
Asa’s chest felt heavy again, and her heart couldn’t seem to find its rhythm. She lifted her cup with trembling hands and drained the last of her tea as she tried to order her thoughts.
“Can you manage making the medicines alone?” she asked Naddie. “And tending the patches?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I do this, the town’s going to look to you to keep them well,” Asa said. “Can you do it or not?”
“It’s what you’ve been training me for, isn’t it?” Naddie grumbled, finally looking up from her cup. “I’ve done all the jobs before, just,” she frowned, “not alone.”
Asa bit the inside of her cheek, using the pain to focus as she tried to hold off the meltdown she could feel building until these people left her kitchen. “How long?” she asked once her heart had found its rhythm once again.
“Til next trade day,” Huxley answered.
Asa let out a breathe she’d been holding and nodded.
“You’re an adult.” Asa set a steaming cup in front of Nadine, making sure to meet her gaze before focusing on passing out the cups. “Speak your mind.”
Naddie studied the drink sat before her, fiddling with the handle. The cup scraped over the table’s worn surface as she muttered, “I think you should consider it.”
The quiet statement hit Asa like a kick to the chest, making it difficult to breathe. She sat in the only open chair and took the last cup, setting it carefully in front of herself before daring to look toward Naddie. “Your reasoning?”
“It buys us time,” Naddie answered. “And you can keep an eye on him.”
Asa nearly choked on her tea. She coughed a couple times before clearing her throat. “You want me to babysit Jacob Pound?”
Evie shook her head, drawing Asa’s attention away from Naddie. “Not babysit,” Evie said. “Monitor.”
“Spy on, you mean.” Asa regarded the mother and daughter, women she often called friends, with a knot twisting in her gut. Had she been wrong again?
“You know how useful I’d be at something like that the same as you know what kind of man he is.” She turned to Huxley. “That’s why you took the risk of sneaking me out of his territory when you found me, isn’t it?”
“Times have changed, Asa,” Huxley said. “Pound holds the power in these parts nowadays. We can’t no more live without trading with East Woods than we can survive fighting ‘em, and they’ve taken a powerful interest in you.”
His shoulders sagged, and he settled back into his chair with a tired sigh. “I know we don’t always get on so well, but I think you know how much I value you. Half the town’d be long dead without you, and we know it. But we’ll be just as dead if we lose the treaty with East Woods.”
A chill raced down Asa’s spine, making her shiver. “He’s threatened to break the treaty?”
“Not in so many words,” Evie said. “If you want to be literal about it, he merely threatened to cut next month’s trade shipment by a bit more than half. But with all of the raids lately.” Her voice trailed off as she ended her statement with a twist to her expression. Evie lifted her cup and took a long sip.
The knot in Asa’s stomach sat there like a stone, and the usually soothing tea did nothing to ease it. She looked around the table, searching for some sign the voice in her head crowing they were finally telling her the truth of how they felt about her was wrong. Huxley frowned, eyes glazed over as he stared into the distance. Evie shifted in her chair, carefully avoiding eye contact as she took another sip of her tea, and Naddie had yet to stop fidgeting with her cup. The thought they were hiding something nagged at the back of her mind. What it was, she couldn’t guess.
Asa’s chest felt heavy again, and her heart couldn’t seem to find its rhythm. She lifted her cup with trembling hands and drained the last of her tea as she tried to order her thoughts.
“Can you manage making the medicines alone?” she asked Naddie. “And tending the patches?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I do this, the town’s going to look to you to keep them well,” Asa said. “Can you do it or not?”
“It’s what you’ve been training me for, isn’t it?” Naddie grumbled, finally looking up from her cup. “I’ve done all the jobs before, just,” she frowned, “not alone.”
Asa bit the inside of her cheek, using the pain to focus as she tried to hold off the meltdown she could feel building until these people left her kitchen. “How long?” she asked once her heart had found its rhythm once again.
“Til next trade day,” Huxley answered.
Asa let out a breathe she’d been holding and nodded.
Working in Solitary
She kept checking her phone and email, wishing someone would make contact. Lilith closed down her communication band and scrubbed her hands over her face in exasperation with a groan. She pushed away from the monitoring station and stood. She stretched, leaning her head this way and that until her neck popped.
“It’s not like I’d hear them anyway,” she muttered.
Lilith picked up her equipment and unsealed the hatch as the hour chimed. The monitors and her tablet screen provided the only illumination available within the tight space. The background thrum of electricity intensified as she crossed the threshold from monitoring station to main corridor.
After resealing the hatch, Lilith pulled a flashlight out of her tool belt and thumbed it on. She squinted against the glare of it until her eyes adjusted, and then she began her inspection. Turning the flashlight’s beam on the walls, Lilith searched for any hint of moisture or fatigue within the structure.
The rhythmic thrumming in time with her heartbeat might have lulled her to sleep if it weren’t so loud. She thought it odd how it could be soothing, irritating, and creepy all at the same time.
Her inspection rounds took about an hour for her to complete when nothing was amiss. Lilith thought she might manage to finish faster after a few weeks making the rounds three times each shift, but she returned to the monitoring station seconds before the hour chimed again.
Lilith sealed the hatch and sighed as she sat down at the monitoring station once more. She brought the screens back up and checked her email out of habit.
A message from her baby sister was waiting. All it said was, “Call me when you get the chance.”
Lilith’s heart raced and her thoughts whirled with a million and one reasons they’d want her to call after forgetting she existed for weeks. Her hands shook as she dialed.
Gracie smiled back at Lilith from the screen a moment later.
“What’s the matter?” Lilith searched the background for any clue what was up she could find, but it was the same disaster of a shared room she’d left behind.
“Nothing,” Gracie answered, looking confused. She grimaced. “Sorry to interrupt your solitude, but I just had to make sure you knew.” Gracie bounced in her seat.
“Knew what?”
“We’re in the news!” Gracie giggled. “Everyone’s all in a tizzy over this project Dr. Daedalus’ daughter’s trying to get started, and Grandma Peter’s signing up!”
Lilith’s head spun as she tried to follow what her sister was saying. She ran a search for Delphinius in the news online and went back to something else that was bothering her. “Why hasn’t anyone called?”
“You wanted time to yourself,” Gracie answered with a shrug. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it, so we’re leaving you alone.”
“I was an idiot,” Lilith groaned. “I’m lonely and bored half to death. Please interrupt my solitude!”
Gracie smirked.
“What?”
“I won the bet!”
“It’s not like I’d hear them anyway,” she muttered.
Lilith picked up her equipment and unsealed the hatch as the hour chimed. The monitors and her tablet screen provided the only illumination available within the tight space. The background thrum of electricity intensified as she crossed the threshold from monitoring station to main corridor.
After resealing the hatch, Lilith pulled a flashlight out of her tool belt and thumbed it on. She squinted against the glare of it until her eyes adjusted, and then she began her inspection. Turning the flashlight’s beam on the walls, Lilith searched for any hint of moisture or fatigue within the structure.
The rhythmic thrumming in time with her heartbeat might have lulled her to sleep if it weren’t so loud. She thought it odd how it could be soothing, irritating, and creepy all at the same time.
Her inspection rounds took about an hour for her to complete when nothing was amiss. Lilith thought she might manage to finish faster after a few weeks making the rounds three times each shift, but she returned to the monitoring station seconds before the hour chimed again.
Lilith sealed the hatch and sighed as she sat down at the monitoring station once more. She brought the screens back up and checked her email out of habit.
A message from her baby sister was waiting. All it said was, “Call me when you get the chance.”
Lilith’s heart raced and her thoughts whirled with a million and one reasons they’d want her to call after forgetting she existed for weeks. Her hands shook as she dialed.
Gracie smiled back at Lilith from the screen a moment later.
“What’s the matter?” Lilith searched the background for any clue what was up she could find, but it was the same disaster of a shared room she’d left behind.
“Nothing,” Gracie answered, looking confused. She grimaced. “Sorry to interrupt your solitude, but I just had to make sure you knew.” Gracie bounced in her seat.
“Knew what?”
“We’re in the news!” Gracie giggled. “Everyone’s all in a tizzy over this project Dr. Daedalus’ daughter’s trying to get started, and Grandma Peter’s signing up!”
Lilith’s head spun as she tried to follow what her sister was saying. She ran a search for Delphinius in the news online and went back to something else that was bothering her. “Why hasn’t anyone called?”
“You wanted time to yourself,” Gracie answered with a shrug. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it, so we’re leaving you alone.”
“I was an idiot,” Lilith groaned. “I’m lonely and bored half to death. Please interrupt my solitude!”
Gracie smirked.
“What?”
“I won the bet!”
Hope Sparks
Our parents told us stories of what the cities were like when they were filled with people. Looking at them now, it’s hard to imagine. Once shining spires rise against the sky like rusted out skeletons, and streets that teemed with people lie quiet and still.
Well, for the most part. You do still run into pockets of survivors who refused to abandon their ancestral homes. Without the supply trucks of our grandparents’ day running, supplies are difficult to come by in the old urban centers, and desperation has made the holdouts...unfriendly. That’s why our parents decided to stick to the countryside after everything went down.
Living out in old farming country isn’t easy either, but potable water and food sources are more prevalent and accessible out here. The greater access to resources makes for fewer tensions between groups, and new trade routes established themselves over the years. It was through the interactions with traveling merchants along the routes that stories of a change in the behavior of the Merfolk began trickling in a few months ago.
According to every story we’ve ever heard those lucky jerks retreated to their underwater cities and left us all to die the minute one of them caught the plague we’ve been fighting for two decades. Oh, they’ve returned to pick at the bones of coastal cities over the years with their ships and protective suits. Then to add insult to injury, they treat the survivors in those regions like some cross between pathetic strays and rabid monsters.
Yet stories are emerging of Merfolk making contact with coastal settlements speaking of hope and recovery. They still wear their protective suits, but they approach without hostility and speak with respect. All they have asked is to take samples of blood, soil, water, and air for which they traded doses of the old vaccines those of us born after the war never had access to due to the loss of their manufacturing facilities.
That’s why Mama and Papa are having us pack up now for a trip cross country. Matty and I don’t know whether or not we ought to trust these Merfolk, but Mama’s expecting again. Even with her and Papa’s resistance to the plague, they’ve lost five of us kids, and they’re excited about anything that can improve our baby brother or sister’s chances.
Well, for the most part. You do still run into pockets of survivors who refused to abandon their ancestral homes. Without the supply trucks of our grandparents’ day running, supplies are difficult to come by in the old urban centers, and desperation has made the holdouts...unfriendly. That’s why our parents decided to stick to the countryside after everything went down.
Living out in old farming country isn’t easy either, but potable water and food sources are more prevalent and accessible out here. The greater access to resources makes for fewer tensions between groups, and new trade routes established themselves over the years. It was through the interactions with traveling merchants along the routes that stories of a change in the behavior of the Merfolk began trickling in a few months ago.
According to every story we’ve ever heard those lucky jerks retreated to their underwater cities and left us all to die the minute one of them caught the plague we’ve been fighting for two decades. Oh, they’ve returned to pick at the bones of coastal cities over the years with their ships and protective suits. Then to add insult to injury, they treat the survivors in those regions like some cross between pathetic strays and rabid monsters.
Yet stories are emerging of Merfolk making contact with coastal settlements speaking of hope and recovery. They still wear their protective suits, but they approach without hostility and speak with respect. All they have asked is to take samples of blood, soil, water, and air for which they traded doses of the old vaccines those of us born after the war never had access to due to the loss of their manufacturing facilities.
That’s why Mama and Papa are having us pack up now for a trip cross country. Matty and I don’t know whether or not we ought to trust these Merfolk, but Mama’s expecting again. Even with her and Papa’s resistance to the plague, they’ve lost five of us kids, and they’re excited about anything that can improve our baby brother or sister’s chances.
To be continued...
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