The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3) Page 3

  Regardless of what their future held, I knew that there was a good chance that, after tonight, I would never see them again. That was perhaps the most difficult realisation I faced. These children weren’t just part of a mission anymore, they were my family. They were the people I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. After so long in the wasteland, I only wanted to surround myself with them and to immerse myself in the kind of happiness that couldn’t be found anywhere else on this Earth.

  It was a dream that was still a long way from reality.

  Out by the front window, I sorted through my backpack for the umpteenth time, more by feel than by sight in the gloom. I wanted to travel light, packing nothing but the basics: shotgun for protection, tools for making fire, a compass, binoculars, clothing that would provide cover against the elements. A knife.

  I’d checked it all before, but did it one more time anyway.

  “Brant, about the spire,” Arsha said suddenly from the darkness nearby. I stopped my rummaging and pushed the backpack away.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t make it a priority. If it’s heavily guarded, as I expect it might be, it’s not worth the risk. It’s not worth dying for.”

  “If I can find a way to access it safely, then I’ll do it. Otherwise I’ll keep heading north. That’s the real mission.”

  “Yeah, don’t lose sight of that.”

  “I won’t. Don’t worry about me, Arsha. I can keep it together out there.”

  “You’re going to come back,” she said, sounding as though she were trying to convince herself of the fact more than me. “You’ll come back, and we’ll get things on track again.”

  “I’ll come back,” I agreed.

  I wondered what I was going to tell Atlas. Would he understand if I gave it to him straight? Probably not, I decided. He was too young to really comprehend the stakes, the issues we were facing. The best tactic would likely be to underplay it – to simply tell him I’d be away for a while and that I would see him again before too long. I didn’t want to cause him undue stress. Arsha would have enough to deal with here without Atlas moping about unnecessarily.

  Arsha and I continued to talk, and the constant chatter about plans and of our dire circumstances began to melt away, as if we’d finally reached the end of those discussions, arriving at a place where further talk was useless, and our conversation began to drift in more inconsequential directions.

  “But didn’t you find it annoying sometimes that you never had a tattoo on your temple?” Arsha said at one point. “People were always thinking I was human.”

  “Yeah, well, of course. It was illegal to manufacture synthetics without those tattoos. M-Corp could have been busted big time for doing that.”

  “There was this one time I was sitting at a bar, waiting for Sindy–”

  “Wait a minute, what were you doing at a bar?”

  “Well, Sindy was meeting a guy there, and she wanted someone to go with her. Moral support, I guess. She literally dragged me out of the workshop one night, said I had to go with her.”

  “Sindy…” I said, chewing my lip. “Short girl, black hair, wore bright red lipstick all the time?”

  “That’s her. See, she drags me to this bar and starts talking to the guy, and I’m left sitting there twiddling my fingers, and suddenly another guy comes up and buys me a drink.”

  “Oh, damn.”

  “Yeah. And it’s massive. It’s some cocktail thing with about five straws in it, and bananas sticking out the top. And an umbrella. You know, the works.”

  I laughed.

  “And he starts hitting on me,” Arsha went on, “and after about ten minutes of talking, he wants to know why I’m not drinking the cocktail. And I really want to say to him, ‘Because synthetics can’t actually take in fluids’, but I figure that’s not an option.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I just tried to fend him off for a while, but he didn’t seem to be twigging to what I was saying. Then he got this really sad look on his face, so I told him I was allergic to bananas. So then he tries to order me something else…”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. At that point, I left Sindy to handle things on her own. That was enough for me. The guy follows me outside into the rain and asks for my number, and by this stage I’m wondering if I need to kick him in the groin to get the message across–”

  “Sounds like an appropriate response to me.”

  “Well, I didn’t get rid of him until I made it down the street and onto a shuttle. He just stood there in the rain watching the shuttle drive away.”

  “Damn, the guy had a real thing for you.”

  “You could say that. I felt a bit sorry for him in the end.”

  I could hear the smile in her voice, even if it was too dark to see her face.

  “I, uh… I wish we’d talked like this more over the years, Brant. It just seems we… we never took the time to do it.”

  She went quiet, and it suddenly seemed to me that she was trying to find a way to say goodbye, but struggling to do it.

  “You’ll have to tell me more of your stories another time,” I said, trying to fill the silence.

  She said nothing, but I heard her clothes rustle, and then I felt her arm wrap around my neck. She embraced me for a few moments, then kissed my cheek, her fingers gently alighting upon the new scar that ran down the side of my face. Then she moved past me and toward the children’s bedroom without another word.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Mish said quietly from the sofa when she was gone.

  I looked over and saw her shift slightly in the gloom. There was no point lying to her.

  “Yes, Mish. In the morning.”

  I got up and moved over to the sofa, sitting beside her.

  “I’m coming with you,” she said adamantly.

  “Mish, you know that’s not possible.”

  “I told you before that if you left, I’d go with you.”

  “I know you said that, but I just can’t take you. Not this time.”

  “Why not?” she said firmly. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, scared, or both.

  “Because it’s dangerous out there in the wasteland. Where I’m going is no place for a little girl–”

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m just a little kid.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “You do. You never looked at me like a grown-up.”

  “Mish, come on. That’s not fair. You know that I couldn’t have a higher opinion of you. You’re an amazing person. Just look at everything you’ve done here to help.”

  “And Ell is gone,” she went on, beginning to cry softly. “What else do I have here, now that he is gone?”

  I reached out and clasped her shoulder. “You have Atlas. Remember the little boy you’ve helped me raise since the day he was born? The little boy who thinks the world of you?”

  She sniffed.

  “And the other three children, and Arsha,” I went on. “They all need you. They all love you. That’s what you have here.”

  She said nothing, but the tears seemed to have dried up.

  “Listen, I know losing Ell was the worst thing that ever happened to you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. All I can say is, I think you’re holding up incredibly well. I’m so proud of your strength. I always have been. That’s why you need to be here. These children are going to need you. With me gone, they’ll need you more than ever.”

  “But why does it have to be you that goes?”

  “Because I’m the best person for the job. Didn’t you hear all of those stories about my adventures with the Marauders? I know them. I know their methods, and I evaded them more times than I can count. I can do it again.”

  “Will it all be finished, after this? If we make it through will we be okay after that?”

  “I’m going to tell you this like I would any adult, okay Mish? I won’t sugar-coat it. I don’t know what happens after this. I ca
n’t say. But that’s something we all have to accept in our lives. There is no final hurdle that we cross that makes everything all right. Life is just one challenge after another. Those challenges don’t go away, they just come at us in different ways, from different directions. In the end, it’s how we handle them that defines us as people.”

  She nodded.

  “So if you really want to be like an adult, this is the first place to start. You have to understand this is how it works. Personally, I’d love for you to stay just the way you are forever. To me, you’re perfect as you are. But if this is important to you, if you really want to take that step, it all begins here.”

  “Okay.”

  “So will you stay here? Can I count on you to take on this responsibility?”

  She remained silent.

  “Mish, can I count on you?”

  “Yes. You can count on me.”

  “Thank you. You don’t know how much of a relief it is for me to hear that.”

  As dawn approached, the inkiness of the city outside the window melted into an uneven tapestry of greys and browns. With enough light to see, I decided the time was right to leave.

  I suddenly felt in a hurry. Maybe it was just the fact that I didn’t want to be here when the children awoke and the house came to life with the sound of their voices, their laughter. It was hard enough leaving without those reminders tugging at my heartstrings.

  In the bedroom, the four of them were still sleeping soundly. I went to each in turn and kissed them lightly on the forehead. As I drew away from Atlas his eyes fluttered and then lifted heavily.

  “Daddy?” he said, groggy.

  “Ssh.” I eased him back down gently. “I’m heading out for a while, okay? I’ll be back later.”

  “Where?”

  “Just out. Arsha and Mish are here. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “But you promised me you’d read me the story last night.”

  “What story?”

  “The one about the crocogon.”

  I sighed. He was right. I had told him I’d read him the story, but it had been forgotten amongst the other things that had to be done.

  “All right. A quick one, okay? Come with me.”

  I scooped him out of the blankets, mindful of his arm in the sling, and carried him out to the living room, where Arsha had lit a candle in order to start making preparations for the morning. His body was warm and floppy, like a big hot water bottle. It was comforting and pleasant.

  “Good morning, Atlas,” Arsha whispered as we passed. He gave her a little wave, and she smiled back.

  I collected the book he wanted, The Friendly Crocodile, and sat on the end of the sofa near Mish’s feet. She drew her legs up to give us room and propped her head on her elbow so she could watch.

  “Yay, the crocogon!” Atlas said blearily.

  He’d been incorrectly using the term ‘crocogon’ for ‘crocodile’ since a young age, and hadn’t grown out of it yet. I’d corrected him often in the early days, but lately I’d given up. I now found it strangely adorable and endearing, something unique to Atlas, and there was a part of me that wanted him to keep using the improper term forever.

  “The Friendly Crocodile,” I began, opening the cover. “‘Down in Snakeskin Swamp, there once lived a very friendly crocodile…’ ”

  The story told the tale of the crocodile’s search for companionship, travelling from one part of the swamp to the next and inadvertently scaring away everyone he met, thus prolonging his loneliness. Atlas made me read several pages twice, his favourites, giggling and bouncing in my lap as he saw the illustrations of the unfortunate crocodile reeling from one crisis to another. Even with these interruptions, it was all too soon when I reached the last page and closed the book, the crocodile safely having found a friend in the form of a fuzzy yellow duckling who saw him for what he really was.

  As I set the book aside, Atlas beamed up at me. “Again!”

  “Not this time, buddy. I’ve gotta go.”

  “I want it again tonight, then.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “And we’ll play the game where you’re the big crocogon on the floor, trying to catch us.” He levered his arms up and down in imitation of a crocodile’s jaws, his movements made awkward by the sling. “Snap, snap!”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I like that game.”

  “Listen, Atlas, I uh…” I could feel tears welling in my eyes and pushed them back. “I want you to be good for Arsha while I’m away today. You help her and do what she says.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “And, uh… I love you, okay?”

  “Do you love me as big as a crocogon’s jaws?”

  “Bigger.”

  “Well, I love you too, stinky butt-butt.”

  Arsha laughed spontaneously from the kitchen, but as she lifted a wrist to cover her mouth I could see her eyes glistening as mine must have been.

  I collected my backpack and headed down the path and onto the road. At the front door, Arsha stood crouched with her hands on Atlas’ shoulders, whispering something in his ear. The boy’s face clouded over despite the encouragement, and I could see that he understood this was not a casual jaunt into the city. He’d picked up on the subtleties in our demeanours and knew that, in some way, things were different.

  Not wanting to see any more, I turned my back and continued up the hill, pushing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me and setting my sights firmly on the horizon to the north.

  4

  There was a time when I thought I’d left the wasteland behind for good. It was a part of my life that I’d overcome, that I’d shed like a desiccated old skin, a dark chapter of my past that I’d closed for good. The focus on my world had shifted, drawing in upon the children and the little dwelling in which we lived, and there had been no need to look anywhere else. My future had been mapped out, and the boundaries of it did not encroach upon the desolate and dangerous regions outside the city.

  I should have known better.

  In this ever-present twilight the wasteland seemed more oppressive than ever. My travels of old had made me accustomed to great expanses of open blue sky and the moon and the stars at night, conditions that gave me the ability to see for clicks in any direction and map out my progress. Now even that was gone. I felt like my senses had been muted, rendered almost useless, and that I was now groping out into the nothingness with only my intuition to guide my way.

  Even so, I did not slacken my pace. I had a mission to do, and not much time in which to do it. I had to press on.

  As the city fell away behind me I found myself on the brittle and eroded asphalt of the highway, constantly referring to the compass to keep my heading. With the sun just a vague outline in the sky, and with landmarks made less distinct and the stars gone completely, navigation was going to be exceedingly difficult. Even though I’d only been walking a couple of hours I felt as though I was already veering off track, losing my way in the gloom, and it was only through the constant reaffirmation of the compass needle that I found a sense of composure.

  It was maybe midday by the time I reached the junkyard. As I reached the first of the twisted metal wrecks, memories came flooding back to me. I thought of Mish and Ellinan stashed inside the decrepit shuttle, huddling together, terrified. I thought of the Marauders I’d killed, and of Wraith striding across the hot sand toward me. I recalled our pursuit of each other between the mangled stacks of car bodies.

  Those few years seemed to have gone by so quickly.

  Now Wraith was gone. Ellinan was gone. Neither were coming back.

  Beyond the junkyard, the service station had been smashed apart as if a great fist had descended from the skies and torn it asunder. Walking among the ruins I could see the charred remnants of the interior – tables, metal appliances, benches. They all now bore a thin coating of sand like translucent skin. There had been other changes to the place as well. Outside, sandbags had been erected in a curv
ing line that ended in another fortification on the side of the original building. It seemed that either the Marauders or Ascension had attempted to create an outpost here. Whatever the case, no one had occupied the area in a long time. It was empty and forlorn and was slowly being devoured by sand and a few sporadic weeds that grew around the exterior.

  I glanced to the horizon and assessed how to move forward from here. The Grid spire was visible as a thin dark column stretching upward in the distance. Lifting the binoculars, I scanned up and down its length as I tried to make out some details, but there was really nothing to see. If there were any secrets hiding within, I was not going to discover them from here. I lowered the binoculars and stowed them in the backpack again.

  Leaving the outpost, I continued on at a brisk pace. At one point the spire came stuttering to life, pulsing once with a wave of blinding intensity in the otherwise gloomy landscape. I gasped in surprise and lifted a hand to my face, but it was too late – a vertical imprint of the needle-like structure throbbed painfully in my vision. It felt like someone had raked me across the eyes with a hot poker.

  “God damn,” I wheezed to myself. “Never thought to pack sunglasses.”

  The spire went dark again, but for the next few minutes a residual yellow glow fluctuated up and down its length, like a tiny crack of weak sunlight cascading down some celestial waterfall. A diffuse glow rippled across the wasteland for kilometres around, and I made use of the improved visibility to hasten my pace toward the spire.

  Over the next couple of hours the spire drew steadily larger, to the point where it began to dominate my field of view. No longer just a tall and fragile needle in the distance, it now began to appear larger and more imposing by the minute. Not for the first time, I marvelled at the craftsmanship of it, the technology that had gone into its construction. It was very much the symbol of man’s accomplishments, the decaying remnants of all that had once been achieved.