Harvest Earth Page 9

  It is the growing strength of the vibrations that snap Jules back into himself. The large black triangular object is overhead now. The entire house shakes from the pressure of some unseen force. Jules shuts the door to keep it from rattling open any further, out of his control.

  As the dark shape passes, and the saucers disappear, so too do the vibrations. Jules slumps over in his entryway and peels off his gas mask. What had stopped the world and put the city to sleep had not been biological in nature, he resolves. In fact, he is quite sure the causative agent wasn’t even of this world.

  20 Gabriel

  “We stayed in the house another three days.” Jules says. finishing his recollection of what had happened to them back at their home. “Tonight is the first night that we risked coming out. We have been in search of supplies mostly.”

  “Supplies, huh?” Gabriel now has the children’s book on beings from another world that Jules and Tayna had found while they were in the library. He flips through the pages.

  Tayna giggles. “Dad and I judged a science fair here about a year ago. I said I remembered seeing the book.”

  Jules was fiddling with the gas lamp, adjusting the light. “At the time I remember scoffing, thinking about how such works were no doubt diluting the minds of our youth.” He says this as he lowers the flame of the lantern to conserve fuel. “But now…” He lets the sentence trail off.

  While it was difficult to fully believe anything that the two had told him, Gabriel decides to proceed based on the assumption that it was all true. At least for now. It is the only explanation he has for what he has woken into.

  The three of them talk late into the night. Jules continues to question Gabriel about how he had awoken with no memory of the events that had occurred or why. Gabriel continues to see both the mind of a scientist and a professor at work as they spoke. Jules is smart. The older man’s sentences are sharp, short and to the point. It is Tayna who holds the humanity for both of them. She reminds her father that people have gone missing. Millions upon millions of people potentially were missing. Jules would hear this and remember the lives he had seen obliterated in the streets. Those that had vanished in a flash of light. It is while remembering this that all three survivors sit in silence. They keep one another company as they grief a world that now seems lost to them.

  But Gabriel’s grief is pronounced, for he still fears for his daughters. While the school had been emptied, he hopes that his apartment holds some answers to where his daughters may have gone. He tries to leave the school several times but Jules’ questions kept him there, his persistent badgering probing Gabriel for more information.

  “It’s just so odd.” Jules says frequently.

  “What?” Gabriel snaps. His tone is probably harsher than it should have been. He is tired, none of them have slept. None of them feel safe in an empty building that is filled with nothing but ghosts.

  “Dad.” Tayna nags, nudging her father. She is once again serving as the broker for human decency.

  “I know.” Jules says, rubbing his eyes, fatigue is finally getting to him. “It’s just I don’t understand what it is that makes us so different. There has be some factor that you were exposed to but that my daughter and I weren’t. And then-” He pauses again. The cogs in his mind were slowed by weariness. “Another reason. Why you weren’t-” Jules chooses his next word carefully, “attacked, like the others. And why your damn flashlight still works!”

  It was one of the bigger mysteries of the night. Whereas every other piece of electronic equipment seemed to have become inoperable, for some reason Gabriel’s flashlight still worked. Jules is certain it is connected to the same reason why Gabriel was not taken by the saucers. Though he isn’t able to solve the mystery just yet, the enigma both irritates and energizes Jules at the same time.

  By the time the sun is up, the three survivors are utterly exhausted. Tayna had been the only one to get any sleep, passing out with her head cradled in her arms on the table. Gabriel has found some coffee in one of the cupboards of the teacher’s lounge. He pours some water into his water bottle through a filter in his cupped hands. He does this several times, cycling the water back through the filter until the liquid is the right tone of black . The water bottle is filled with just enough caffeine to give him a slight buzz.

  “I really have to get going.” Gabriel says. taking another sip of coffee. As it touched his lips he wishes he had been able to warm the liquid first somehow.

  “But-” Jules begins but Tayna, now begrudgingly awake, cuts him off with a glare. The intensity of the gaze is not diluted by the puffy circles under the young woman’s eyes. Jules takes the hint. “Very well, we understand.” He finishes.

  The two men shakes hands and Tayna gives Gabriel a friendly nod before resting her head back on the table. The night before these three people had been strangers. Gabriel had been alone in a world that he thought had abandoned him. Now he knows there are others, other survivors. He hopes that somewhere his daughters are among them.

  21 Madison

  Madison sleeps for six hours inside the small security shed. She sleeps on the hard floor, her arm curled up under her head. By the time Madison wakes up her arm refuses to follow suit. It is numb and she has to shake it fiercely in order to get the blood to circulate.

  Sitting up, Madison is lightheaded. She is woozy from lack of food and dehydration. The security airman who had pulled her from the vent, Private Cassie Hillman, has given her a small energy bar to stave off the hunger. Now Madison’s stomach yearns for more. She presses down on her abdomen with his palms trying to suppress the feeling. She tries to restrain her stomach from rumbling too violently.

  Pvt. Hillman is leaning against the wall of the shed, her rifle slung in front of her, held in both hands. She peers out the windows of the booth, staring at the two large metal doors that are the only things keeping them from the outside world. Madison isn’t even sure that the Private notices that Madison is awake, but then Hillman says, “So, you’re alive?”

  Madison struggles to her feet. Her entire body still aches from climbing in the ventilation shaft. Her joints creak, her muscles pound and her head is swimming. But she stands up all the same. It feels good to stretch. “Yea. Haven’t slept in 24 hours or so, I reckon.”

  “Yea.” Pvt. Hillman says, still staring out the window. Her eyes are wide. “Haven’t slept either.” She doesn’t even so much as nod at Madison.

  “You should get some rest.” Madison says, “I can keep watch.”

  “No.” Pvt. Hillman says abruptly. She turns to Madison, “But thank you.” The Private gave a quick smile and then returned her gaze to the doors just as quickly.

  “Well, just let me know.” Madison says. She hobbles over to get a better look out of the window. “Anything new?”

  “Thought I heard something a while back.” Pvt. Hillman says. Her tone is flat and emotionless, her face stern. “Sounded like tires maybe. But now…nothing.” A slab of rock then falls from the ceiling and crashes into the pavement. Bits of debris scatter across the entryway. “Except for a lot of that.” The Private says, referring to the crumbling ceiling.

  “I thought this area was meant to survive a blast.” Madison says as she eyes holes in the ceiling where the rocks are shifting. She gulps, thinking of the terror of having to survive another collapse. “Any blast.” She continues. “That way survivors would always have a way out or rescue crews would always have a way in.”

  “Yea.” Private Hillman replies simply. She pulls her gaze away so she can examine her rifle. “That’s what they told us.”

  Madison can sense the paranoia in Pvt. Hillman’s response. The U.S. government is notorious for hiding secrets from its people, including its own soldiers. Madison knows this better than anyone. For two years she had been surveying the communications of people worldwide, a practice that was strictly banned by the United Nations over two decades previously. Madison knows the arguments on both sides. She had heard the arguments
for the program, the need to protect American citizens from terrorist threats. That the government needed to monitor the world for any individuals who might be plotting attacks on U.S. soil. Their mission was to learn about possible crisis events before they could come to fruition. Everyone was a suspect. The only way to prove your innocence was to maintain your loyalty to the U.S. and its Western allies. Any mention of dissention was immediately deemed suspect and analyzed.

  When Madison had taken the assignment she had been told it was to save the lives of Americans. But she heard the talking points of the other side in her head as well. There were fears that she was invading the privacy of others, that nothing was confidential any longer. All of the messages and conversations that she had translated Madison knew would be used for some alternative means. There were no outside checks or balances. It was a covert military program with no oversight. The military could use the data they collected anyway they wanted. Everybody had their secrets and the second they typed them into an e-mail or told someone about them over the phone the U.S. government would be alerted.

  Madison had heard a million embarrassing secrets that she had translated from across Europe. Tales of lovers’ first kisses that had gone wrong; stories of sexual exploits, some of them taboo and illicit; employees stealing from their employers; wives cheating on husbands, husbands cheating on wives; children, far too young experimenting with drugs, alcohol and sex. All of it was translated and recorded. Then it was filed away to be reviewed by someone farther up the chain of command.

  The only reason Madison had been able to do the task at all was because she at some level she enjoyed the stories. It sickened her if she thought about it too much, how those conversations might be used. But Madison did it because she liked listening to people. She was detached from them but still enjoyed their company.

  Madison remembers Dale then. His body still buried beneath a pile of rubble beneath her. She remembers the intimate conversation they had while his body slowly failed him. How he had passed away in her lap. She had been so vulnerable in that moment, sharing her history, her past. It was a part of her that she had kept hidden for so long. Perhaps only feeling safe sharing with the young man because she knew that Lt. Trevers would take her life story to his grave. Now Madison shutters. How violated, how full of shame she would have felt to have someone listening in on that conversation. To have someone learn all of her secrets, secrets that were meant to stay buried under the Earth.

  With Pvt. Hillman present, her callous demeanor gives Madison the strength to hold back her tears. But in that moment Madison resolves to change assignments once all of this was over. She would never again steal away the intimacy of someone else’s moment.

  There was a radio in the small security shed and Madison starts playing with it. It doesn’t seem to be working. Not even the sound of static comes through.

  “It’s dead.” Pvt. Hillman says, noticing what Madison is doing and reiterating her findings. “All electronics. Even my watch.” The Private points to the analog watch around her wrist. The second hand has stopped. “EMP, maybe.” Pvt. Hillman gestures to the lights that line the entryway wall. They are still on, though dim. The light in them is fading. “Lights still on though.”

  “Not for long.” Madison says, easing herself into the only chair in the space. It is a plastic office chair that swivels at the base. “I was down in the maintenance tunnel before the cave-in. They said that a lot of systems were shielded from the initial blast but not all of them. Something crept in. A virus of some kind is most likely. I suspect that’s how they knocked out the power and our communications.”

  “How does a virus knock out my watch?” Pvt. Hillman gestures to the device on her wrist again.

  “I don’t know.” Madison says, suddenly curious. “Maybe the battery was low.”

  “Yea.” Pvt. Hillman says sarcastically, spinning on Madison. There was a wild look was in her eyes. “My watch decided to lose power at the same time that all the electronics went out in the whole base.” She was being bitter. The words on her tongue were being hurled like little spears. “And my flashlight must have blown a fuse at the same time too.” She gestures to her flashlight which lay limply from her belt. She toggles the power switch but nothing happens.

  Madison feels under attack. “You have a problem, airman?” She snaps back, rising to her feet. Though it hurts, she puffs up her chest where her missing stripes were but now only fabric dangles. Madison erects her back and tilts her chin up, reminding the Private of her rank.

  “No, sir.” Pvt. Hillman meets her gaze and straightens her own posture. The rifle is still in her hands, Madison is made acutely aware that she herself is unarmed. The only thing protecting her from physical assault is her rank, which suddenly doesn’t seem to mean much in the vacuum of the abandoned entryway.

  Instead Madison relies only the only weapon she has, her words. “Listen, I just want answers.” She says, softening her voice with every word. “Just like you.” She measures Pvt. Hillman for a response, but her face is stern and as rigid as stone. “And we’re not going to find them here jumping down one another’s throats.”

  Pvt. Hillman is planted solidly but the wild look in her eyes is gone. She seems now to be studying Madison, measuring her. After moments of tense silence she finally says, “Well then, what do you suggest?”

  Madison gestures to the giant doors that close off the entryway. “I suggest we go out there.” It had been something that Madison had been thinking out since she first saw the entryway, to get out of the mountain once and for all.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Sir.” Pvt. Hillman’s bitterness returns. Madison can sense it but she tries to push past it.

  “We have no food, no water and no means of communications. We’re essentially blind with no hope of rescue.” The words hurt Madison to say just as much as she hopes they are difficult for the Private to hear. “For all we know we weren’t the only ones who were hit. From what we saw in the control room it looked like the entire world might be blacked-out.” Madison points to the dimming lights along the walls. “When these lights go out there will be nothing left.” She then sweeps her head towards the pile of rocks that have fallen from the ceiling. “And before that even happens, this whole place might cave-in on top of us. There is no reason to stay here.”

  “Security Protocol One-Alpha-Sierra-Niner.” Pvt. Hillman states, reciting the sequence from memory. “In the event of an attack the main entry doors are to remain sealed until arrival of approved rescue personnel.”

  Madison is impressed that the Private has remembered the rule word-for-word, but it doesn’t deter her from her mission of getting out from under the collapsing roof.

  “Why?” Madison says, attempting to appeal to the woman’s reason. “To maintain the integrity of the base? I think it’s safe to assume that objective is pretty much shot.” As if to emphasize her point, shifting rock overhead sprinkled bits of debris down onto the roof of the hut. “And you said it yourself. We don’t know who is responsible for this. It could be our own government for all we know. Do you really want to wait around for them to finish the job?”

  This sentiment seems to strike a nerve in the Private. She develops a far-off look in her eye, as if remembering a tragedy from her past. It only lasts a moment before she is back in the fray. “I’m a soldier for the U.S. military. If they want to come here and kill me, that’s their prerogative. I signed my life over to them anyway.”

  “Are you joking?” Madison can feel herself losing ground in the argument. Rational thought seems to be a distant concept. “You might be willing to die at the hands of your own government, but I’m not. I need to survive this!’”

  “Why?”

  The Private’s question hits Madison like a punch in the chest. Her lungs are hollow and tears once again threaten to well up in her eyes. Why? Why did she want to live? She knows why, though the thought is difficult to accept. “Because-” Madison’s voice is soft now. S
he is speaking to herself more than to her fellow airman. “Because I have never truly lived. I’ve shut myself off from everyone, and I don’t want to be that way anymore.” She stares the Private right in the eyes. “I want to truly connect.”

  Pvt. Hillman doesn’t even blink. It is as if the words had been spoken to a brick wall. “Security Protocol Six-Six-Oscar-Sierra.” Pvt. Hillman replies, clutching her rifle more securely. Her sweaty and dust covered hands wrap tighter around the grip of the weapon. “Should personnel attempt to compromise the security of this base, it is the duty of security personnel to use whatever means deemed necessary to maintain the safety and security of the base and its personnel.” Pvt. Hillman’s fingers drift towards the trigger on her rifle.

  Madison carefully considers her options.

  There is no more room for negotiation, things had escalated too far and too quickly. The Private is fatigued, having not slept for a day, and she isn’t thinking clearly. Neither of them probably are, but Madison knows she can’t give in. The two of them can’t just sit there. They can’t just wait for help that may never come, or for the lights to go out, or for the rest of the mountain to come down on top of them, or for some military force to blow their way through the entryway doors to finish them off.

  The Private has her rifle, a handgun holstered to her hip and a knife on her belt. Madison has nothing. Unlike Pvt. Hillman, Madison’s muscles are still stiff from her long climb up from the maintenance tunnel. Madison’s only advantage is the close quarters offered by the security hut. The Pvt. won't be able to get enough range to get a clean shot off with her bulky rifle. While in boot camp and officer’s school Madison had learned some basic martial arts techniques. Pvt. Hillman, however, had no doubt taken those lessons to the next level. She had likely trained every day in how to perform takedowns and submission holds. All Madison has is her instincts. That, and the element of surprise.