Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy) (22 page)

Carter
spun around — as if the movement could help him to run from his own memory — and faced the wall, splaying his fingers against the icy tile. His heart was racing and he’d broken out into a clammy sweat. “
You should know that better than anyone…”
It echoed in his brain. He jammed his hands over his ears, but it didn’t stop.
“We can’t do that, Dr. Lawson. You should know…”

“Aaaaaaaauuuugh!” he
roared, whirling back to face the others. “The ‘move’, Silas, is that we keep trying. We can’t chop off the head that is Eden only to have Diaspora grow back in its place. They’re working together, so these Liars must know something. But we can’t have
noise
. So, nothing that makes noise. Nothing that leaves a mark. Keep them on half-rations. Oh, and Silas?” Carter stopped on his way out. “Try to keep your attack dogs in line this time, huh? If Nona catches wind of this, we’re done.”

----------- Fi --------------

“What about the cover for Fi and me? Do we have any ideas about that yet?” Sara was huffing as they raced along the edge of a massive Dead Zone.

Fi squinted against an all-white world: the sun, the sky, the snow-covered land,
all fresh from the bleach cycle. “Yeah,” she added, gasping, “how are we going to take our weapons in?”

It was this sticking point that led them to their ultimate plan.
While brainstorming ways to hide the weapons, Sara suggested long skirts and something clicked in Fi’s mind. “That’s it!” she said. “It’s actually the perfect cover.”

“Skirts?” Asher was bewildered.

He wasn’t alone. Everyone stared at her as if she’d gone bonkers. Their heads literally swung around so hard that Julius tripped on a root and almost bit it. Fi would’ve laughed, but she didn’t have enough breath in her chest to spare it. “No, the skirts are just a part of the whole image. Sean, remember the Rodriguez girls?”

“Ah.”
Sean nodded as he ran. The Rodriguez kids had been in school with Sean and Fi since Kindergarten. Their family was deeply religious - Pentacostal, Rosa Rodriguez had once told her. And as part of their devotion to their faith, the girls always wore long, button-down shirts with skirts that swished just above their shoes. “That’s perfect,” he said. “You and Sara could be from a really religious family and that would explain the skirts.”

“We’ll fit right in if we’re already super-Christian.”
Sara’s eyes shone with excitement. “Right?”

“Sh
ould be, yeah,” Julius agreed. “That could really work.”

They turned west into the forest when the Dead Zone loomed in their path.
The terrain got harder and conversation became impossible. It wasn’t until they settled in for the night again that they managed to hammer out the details.

Sara and Fi would pretend to be the only remaining sisters from a strict Pentacostal family.
They would say that Luke’s father had protected them, but that recently he’d gone out on a raid and never returned. They’d waited for him until they’d nearly starved, but then they’d been forced to move. A Truther family they came across was kind enough to give them food and they overheard Lawson’s broadcasts. Seeking help, they’d made their way to the settlement through the brutal cold.

“By the time we arrive at their doorstep, we’ll be the saddest, most pathetically needy girls they’ve ever seen!”
Sara crowed, waving her strip of boar jerky.

Fi understood her enthusiasm.
Sara was looking forward to deceiving Carter as much as she was.
If it weren’t for lives hanging in the balance
, she thought,
this might almost be fun.

Since Darryl’s information proved that
Carter had listened to Asher’s book, Fi decided to go by her middle name, “Marie.” Sara was such a common name that they left it at that. Sara had started practicing calling her “Marie” around camp to get used to it.

“But how are the skirts going to work if we need to get to our weapons quickly?” Fi asked.

“Crap. That’s a good question,” Sara said, chewing.

“What if you made them tear-aways, like sports warm-ups?” Asher
said. “You know, the kind athletes just rip off. We had them for basketball. I think they’re usually made with Velcro or snaps.”

“Hmmm.
That’s a good idea,” Fi said.

“Tear-away skirts?” Sean snorted.
“You ladies better figure out what you’re gonna wear underneath, or you’ll be fighting in your underwear.”

Sara grabbed Fi’s arm.
“Ooooh, maybe we
should
fight in our underwear, Fi. That would definitely shock those uptight freaks. We could be like Bond Girls.”

Julius choked o
n his water and Sean smacked him on the back, laughing.

“Yeah,
” Fi added. “They’ve probably barely seen a woman naked, most of them. They’d be too busy hiding their eyes to protect themselves.”

At this Julius choked a second time and turned a delightful
shade of plum, eliciting more laughter. Fi’s chortles transformed into a yawn that then skipped its way around their circle. Once every face had nearly split in half, they decided to call it a night.

Asher stood and stretched, pulling her into his arms as he h
elped her up. “No matter what happens,” he said, his lips curling, “you two will change the meaning of ‘Bond Girl’ forever.”

################################################

A few days later, Fi eyed Sara’s button-down shirt and long tiered skirt with derision. “Nice look, Laura Ingalls.”

“
Oh, like ‘prarie chic’ looks so great on you, Fi,” she snorted. “Don’t make me go all Nellie on your ass.”

Fi
grinned. Sara had a point. Fi didn’t need a mirror to know that she looked equally stupid in the getup. The Nellie reference drew some appreciation from the gathered audience, including the always-present Hannah Lemly. Every evening at last light, any members of the Army who were not too spent from traveling went through combat training with Asher and Julius. And those who couldn’t train, watched.

Though Fi was often tired at day’s end, sitting around made her antsy, so she sparred with Sara whenever possible.
Today, however, was a special day. Today they were trying out their “tear-away” skirts for the first time.

“It’s a full dress rehearsal,” Fi said, just dodging a friendly punch.
“What, Sar? You know I can’t resist a pun. So…you ready?”

“Are yo
u kidding? I was born ready, Fi. Hey, let’s back up and go at each other dual-style.”

“What
? Why?”

“Makes it more fun for the kids.”
Sara waved at their audience, drawing gentle laughter as she backed away. “Just make sure your pea shooter has the safety on. I don’t want to get shot just because you have an itchy trigger finger.”

Fi rolled her eyes a
nd backed up. They faced each other in what had to be the strangest scene in history: two good, demure Christian girls, staring each other down...ready to draw. “Ok, Sara. On the count of three, you rip and draw, ok?”

“Ok.”
Sara’s left hand flexed beside the tab she’d sewn into the seam of her skirt.

Fi shook out her arms
. Her fingertips brushed the tab on her own skirt. “One. Twooooooooooo. Two and a half.”

Sara blew a raspberry.

“Three!” Fi ripped at the tag and the skirt fell away as she drew her gun and aimed in one smooth motion.
Bang
, she thought, staring down her sight at Sara, whose daggers gleamed in her hands. With the skirts puddled at their feet, the black leggings they wore beneath made them seem like secret ninjas.
If ninjas had ever favored button-downs on the top half
, Fi mused.

“Bravo!”
Marcus called as he came to join the onlookers. “Or rather, Brava! Now the important question is, have you ladies chosen your superhero names?”

“Good grief, Marcus.
” Fi lowered her .22. “Will you lay off the superhero stuff?”

“Aw, c’mon
. I’m just having fun. Besides, you two are going in all mild-mannered only to transform into warriors. What else would you call that?”

“Hear, hear!” Sean appeared over the ridge, sweaty from training.
“I agree. And I want another showing. We missed it!” He gave Sara a kiss. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey.
So you want to see the transformation again?” She picked up her skirt and then frowned. “Uh, oh. I think I tore the seam.”

“Me too,” Fi said, fingering
her own skirt. “Guess these aren’t built to be ripped off over and over again. Sorry, Sean. Sara and I will have to fix these first before we can show you.”

“I have to say
, girls, the whole ‘business on top, party on the bottom’ look you’re rocking right now is pretty entertaining.”

“
You’re hilarious,” Fi replied, unbuttoning her shirt. “Time to spar, Sar?”

“Yup.
I’m on it.”

Sara had already slipped out of her button-down, revealing the black dri-fit shirt beneath.
Now we really look like ninjas
, Fi thought, energized. It gave her appreciation for the new raven curls she was sporting. They’d dyed her hair the day before. It was partly to make her look more like Sara’s sister and partly to conceal her identity, in case Carter had ever seen their wedding video, which fortunately did not include any clear shots of Sara.

At first Fi was startled by the dark mass of curls
every time she bent over a stream to drink. But now she felt kinda…stealth.

“Now
the real fun starts,” Marcus said, triggering another wave of laughter.

Fi flushed.
She’d still hadn’t gotten used to everyone watching them train. But there was no privacy in the Army, she guessed, so she just tried to ignore it. Frankly, it was good practice to have distractions while she sparred. Real fights always had distractions.

Sara cracked her fingers and
rolled her neck. “You ready?”

“I was born ready
, Sar.” Fi sank into her fighting stance, feeling the joy of physicality ripple through her. She was still weak and slow, but with each session she grew stronger. They circled each other, ignoring the occasional whistles and catcalls. Sara struck first, testing the distance with a left jab that caught air as Fi side-stepped it. “Careful,” Fi warned. “You don’t want the shiner I’d give you if you tried that again.”

“Oh, that’s right.
I do all the fighting and you do all the talking. Is that it, Fi?”

Taking the bait,
Fi launched forward with a kick-jab combination that caught Sara’s shoulder as she moved to block it. Their audience “ooooohed” and Sara glared at her.

“What?”
Fi bounced gleefully. “Done fighting so soon?”

Fi went in with another
quick jab-hook. Sara blocked both and landed a solid punch to Fi’s gut that left her gasping. This time Sara grinned, enjoying the gasps she’d earned. Fi backed away, sucking the tiny bits of air that her shocked diaphragm would allow. “Good hit,” she croaked.

If this had been a friendly fight to pass the time, that might have been it.
But this wasn’t that type of fight. This was training. For a real fight…a fight to the death. So despite her lack of oxygen and aching gut, Fi held her ground and circled her friend.
Speed, Fi
.
Remember your speed.

Fi leapt at Sara and then spun behind her and kicked backward, landing a solid thump to Sara’s back that sent her sprawling.

Sara scrambled to her feet
, flustered. “Jeez, Fi! You’re still fast, for a little thing.”

Fi swallowed her pride.
Sara was baiting her again, but this time she wasn’t going to take it. They traded a few more swift blows and were tiring when Sara went for the kill. Her whirling roundhouse nearly connected with Fi’s head, but the leg sweep that followed when Fi ducked is what took her to the ground.

“Ooof!” Fi grunted as Sara threw hers
elf on top of her. Then Sara’s arms and legs were on all sides like the God of Shiva and Fi was rolling, being flipped onto her back in the snow. Sara pinned her arm, pulling it back painfully, while her legs wound through Fi’s like a vise. The more Fi struggled, the tighter her prison became.

“Do you give
?” Sara panted as she held against Fi’s straining limbs. “C’mon, give, Fi. Don’t make me dislocate your shoulder.”

Fi went limp.
“All right. I give.”

Sara released her and they helped each other up, dusting the dry snow off their clothes.
There was applause from their audience as Sara curtseyed and blew kisses. Hannah Lemly clapped, her blue-moon eyes wide.

Fi
rubbed her neck. “Ow, Sara. What the hell was that? Some Krav Maga shit?”