Lethal Seasons (A Changed World Book 1) (9 page)

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Not sure yet.”

Jean stayed a half-step behind him as they followed Wisp. In the thin beam from the flashlight, Nick saw the jumbled remains of a collapsed house. High piles of splintered lumber and crumbling bricks lined a well-trod path through the debris. When they caught up to him, Wisp was standing at an old-fashioned wooden cellar door, the paint peeled and deteriorated. A well-kept chain and padlock ran through the handle.

Wisp tugged on the padlock. “Do you still have the keys?”

Nick patted his pockets, surprised to find he did still have them. A shiver ran down his back. Standing in the pitch dark with just Jean’s flashlight made him feel too vulnerable. He handed the keys over to Wisp, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was in that basement.

Wisp sorted through the keys, trying each one. The lock fell loose, and he pulled the door open without hesitation. Nick figured he must know that whatever was on the opposite side wasn’t going to come out fighting. Prudently, he took a step back, bumping into Jean. The flashlight wavered for a moment, then she pointed it at the black hole of the cellar.

“Come out,” Wisp said softly. He knelt at the lip of the stairs.

A young boy, not more than five, climbed out. In the weak light, he was pale and shaking. Two girls around Lily’s age followed, then another boy slightly older. They were dirty, shy and well-fed. They huddled together darting nervous looks at the strangers. The older boy frowned at them and then deliberately turned his attention off to his right. Jean moved the flashlight to see what he was looking at. A few steps away a squat table made out of thick wooden beams sat in the middle of a clearing. It was splotched with dark stains, knives and cleavers were racked to one side, chains hung in loops off the other. With a jolt, like a kick in the stomach, Nick realized it was a makeshift butcher block. He had to take a couple deep breaths to settle the emotion squeezing his chest and tightening his throat.

Beside him, Jean burst into tears. “No! No that’s, oh God...” She dropped the flashlight to cover her face, sobbing. Nick put an arm around her. He needed the comfort, too. He did not want to connect the dots between the kids in the cellar, and what he was looking at now. She pushed away from him and retrieved the flashlight.

When she swept the light over the area, he realized the children were gone.

“It started from tragedy, a man so distraught at the loss of his child that he did the impossible. He loaded her cells into a bio-printer and re-built her. His attempt failed, but from that single desperate act, the biobots were devised. When they were finally perfected, they were touted as the solution to all man’s ills. From manual labor to complex calculations, one could order a Biological Robot built to almost any specification.”

History of a Changed World
, Angus T. Moss

Who am I? Mm, mmm, me. Not right, but close.

The day always started the same way, trying to remember who she was. The walls were white. Lights came on and went off without her asking, or wanting. Food arrived when the lights came on. There was a name for it. A word that meant just that thing. Food in the morning was...breakfast. Yes, that’s right, breakfast. That was the word for the first meal of the day.

She sat up slowly, feeling like she’d been wrapped in cotton. Sounds were muffled. Everything felt like flannel or rubber, even her body. Sometimes she wondered if she was made out of skin and bones, because they didn’t feel right. And that would make her wonder why she thought that. How was it supposed to feel? Had there been a time before the white walls and cotton? It was too hard to remember.

The small door in the wall opened with a snap. The sharpest sound in her world. A tray of food slid onto the narrow shelf across from the bed. A scratchy sound that made her stomach growl. The air in the room changed from a soapy smell to something else...toast? Coffee? Any change was special and must be appreciated. She let the smell float around awhile. If she ate the food, the smell would go away. But if she waited too long, the tray would be removed, and she would be hungry.

She put bare feet on a cold, tiled floor. The floor was not white. The floor was gray. She squinted at the edges where the white stopped and the gray began. The gray was important to her because it was not white. Her pants were white. Her shirt was the palest shade of blue. Sometimes her shirt was another color. Once it was pink. That had been a big surprise. It made her think of things that she couldn’t bring to mind today. It made her want something. Her shirts were never pink anymore.

She shuffled over to the lavatory on rubber legs. Toilet, shower, sink, toothbrush. She named each thing carefully before using them, proud to remember their names. Walls, ceiling, bed, tray. She rattled off all the items allowed in her world.

Who allowed?

That was another thought that she wasn’t sure she knew the answer to. Her parents? Parents. What were parents?

She sat on the chair in front of the shelf and put food into her mouth. She was pretty sure she had parents. Two of them. A man and a woman. They were important. Not like gray was important, or saying the names of things. But she couldn’t remember why they were important. There were a lot of things she couldn’t remember. Sometimes things floated up in her mind, and she had no idea where they came from.

Little triangles of yellow on her plate were sweet. She liked sweet. Not every tray had sweet. They were tart. She looked for the name along the gray of the floor. Apple? No, pineapple. The smell was a memory. She closed her eyes. Blue sky and yellow sand. A pounding sound that came from water...no, ocean. It was the ocean. And her skin was hot and smelled of coconut. An old ache of longing rose in her. But she didn’t know what to pine for. Was it the ocean? Did she ache to see that blue sky and blue water? But it didn’t make sense. She had always been here inside the white walls with the gray floor. Across the sand, a voice called, like the birds that swooped above her. Birds, gulls, seagulls. The voice said her name, and she remembered it. Melissa.

“Biobots soon became a political nightmare. Unions were against them for replacing workers. The Human Rights organizations were apoplectic over the insinuations that these creatures were not human. Definitions varied wildly. The industry insisted that since a biobot was not grown in the womb and birthed from a woman, it was not a person.”

History of a Changed World
, Angus T. Moss

Wisp heard a motor kick over and felt Nick’s lurch of alarm.

“The van!” Nick spun back to the path.

Wisp grabbed his arm. “The van isn’t over there. It’s a different vehicle. The prisoners are leaving.”

“We need to stop them.” Jean shone the flashlight across the debris piles. She was searching for a way toward the sound of the engine. Her fear and disgust were so high, Wisp wondered how she could form a lucid thought.

“Why?” Wisp touched her shoulder to stop her. “The prisoners don’t trust us. They’re fearful and angry. They have taken their children and left.”

“
Their
children?” Nick demanded. “You’re sure?”

“The children went willingly. The adults think only of the children’s safety.” Wisp could feel the confusion in Jean. She so badly wanted to fix something. “They are better off seeking their own kind. The woods here have many small communities. They will be with people who want to care for them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick barked. He was angry at the situation and relieved not to be responsible for these people and oddly, angry at his relief. His emotions flickered so fast, Wisp worried that he was becoming unstable. Guilt steamed off him like a vapor. It was illogical for him to feel such pain for circumstances he’d stumbled across, but he was definitely not a logical man.

Wisp chose his words carefully. He used a calm voice and tried pushing a little on their overwrought emotions. It was not a time for Jean and Nick to go haring off after people who did not want their help. “We have our own responsibilities. Bruno, William, Lily. They deserve our undivided attention. The prisoners would require a lot of care and attention and still they would be questioning our intentions every step of the way. They would be fractious and defensive. Possibly violent. They are much happier making their own choices.”

“But the kids?” Jean asked. She was teetering toward accepting his point of view.

Wisp felt her fragility. She was battered from the attack and the deaths. She didn’t want to be wrong about something she might be able to fix. “The children felt safe with the people who took them. I wouldn’t have let them go if I felt fear. But they got much calmer when the people that had been chained came to them.” He waited for that to sink in. Then he added bare facts, nudging her towards acceptance. “They share a trauma. They will heal best together.”

Jean hesitated, too tired to decide. Nick’s emotions consolidated, the fear and anger dropped away leaving duty as the top note. He gave Wisp a curt nod. “Let’s get out of here.”

“The term
keeper
was coined as the person responsible for the well-being of a biobot. That didn’t prevent abuse by that keeper. Ownership soon came to include any inventions or discoveries made by the biobot. A lucrative side business evolved from that which had the markets spinning to produce brilliant minds to order. No one gave a thought to how these brilliant minds would react to this legally permitted slavery. Later, it was declared that the keeper would also be responsible for any crimes committed by their charges.”

History of a Changed World
, Angus T. Moss

The morning sun was peeking through the trees when the low-battery alarm chimed. Wisp engaged the receivers on the roof to catch any light making it through the canopy. He and Nick had taken turns driving all night. Everyone wanted to put that place behind them as swiftly as possible. After continuing along the dirt road out of the Maneaters’ village, they connected up with the highway again. Wisp had kept a close watch on the roads and the areas they traveled through. With everyone but Nick asleep, he could stretch out his senses, tasting for trouble. Once back on the highway, they made good time.

His head ached with the recent stresses of so many people’s high emotion. The rest of the journey would be uncomfortable. For the moment, Bruno and William were either unconscious or sleeping. Lily and the other children slept. Jean was waking. Wisp felt the stab of grief when she became aware of her surroundings. Margaret was dozing, dreaming of the attack and whimpering softly. Sharp images flashed from her, each a mental blow, the mercenaries looking larger than life, their weapons massive, her own helplessness making everything hurt all the more. Nick slept in the seat next to Wisp, but his rest wasn’t easy either. Luckily, he didn’t broadcast as easily as Margaret.

The truth was no one would rest well until they reached the settlement and the safety of its guarded walls. He might take advantage of that safety to rest for a bit. Once he was sure that Lily and William were safe, he could find a place to sleep and eat. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two to assess the settlement. To be sure that was the best place for the children, then he would be on his way.

The road wound downhill in sweeping loops through healthy bands of deciduous forest. Trees leaned over the road reaching hands across the slim passage, almost touching. Saplings marched along shoulders, crowding the edges of the asphalt. In another few years, without maintenance, the forest would reclaim the land. The road curved back toward the east. Long fingers of sunlight reached through the canopy dappling the road. Wisp eyed the forest, worrying that the battery wouldn’t charge in time.

A sudden change to full sunlight showed a swath of fallen trees that marked the path of a tornado. Trunks lay stacked like matchsticks with roots and branches intertwined. A thin trail of sawdust from the road to a small clearing indicated the wood was being harvested. Wisp reached out to check for watchers. Whoever was working the timber, wasn’t present at the moment. He stopped the van. The gauges on the collectors reported an upswing in solar collection. Wisp slipped into the back helping himself to food and water. He stretched the kinks out of his spine before returning to the front.

“Why are we stopping?” Nick mumbled.

“Battery,” Wisp said, handing him a bottle of water.

Nick took a long drink. Suspicion and uncertainty wavered until he became aware of his surroundings. “Oh. We’re at the Big Blowdown. We’re almost there.” Wisp felt his own muscles loosen as Nick relaxed.

“I’ll take over,” Nick said.

Wisp swapped seats with him, glad for the break. He offered Nick a packet of food. “This says
Biscuit Sandwich
.”

Nick ripped the package open and stared at the contents. “Where are they getting this stuff? Have you seen train food like this?”

“No.”

“It really is a biscuit,” Nick said sounding perplexed. He bit into it. “Well, I’ve had worse.”

“It is adequate.”

A flare of pride colored Nick’s response. “High Meadow has real food.”

*    *    *

Wisp could see the bulk of the storm baffles long before the settlement came into view. A buzz of curiosity and alarm alerted him to sentinels hiding in the trees. They came around the next curve to find armed men blocking the road. A pair of saw horses made a polite barrier. Wisp knew they could blow through them easily in the powerful vehicle. One man raised his arm, requesting they stop. The men were clean, decently dressed in tidy clothes and looked well fed. There was a wholesome solidarity to them that bandits rarely had. Nick felt strong approval at seeing them.

“You know them?”

“Yup. Not sure why they’re up here, though.” As they coasted up to the barrier, Nick leaned out the window and called to them. “Just me!”

The men waved, apprehension sliding off them, replaced with curiosity and pleasure. Nick was well liked. Wisp felt the welcoming in them. When Nick walked up to them, they gathered around him with honest smiles.

“Where did you get that thing? Martin's gonna have a fit!”

The men gossiped. He waited for them to settle a bit before opening his door. Every eye riveted on him. They stopped speaking. Trickles of curiosity, apprehension and confusion lapped through the men.

“He's with me,” Nick said with a forced casual air.

“But he's a...”

“Yup.”

Nick signaled for him to get back in the van. They radioed ahead to arrange for a medical team to meet them. There was an efficiency to the men that Wisp hadn't seen in many settlements. Perhaps this place would be as safe as he had hoped it would be. Once Lily and William were settled, he could go.

As they approached, Wisp got the usual ache at feeling too many minds in one place, but the general flavor was unsullied. No predominant fear or resentment. He could feel the whole range of human emotions— anger, joy, regret, contentment. That spoke of freedom. He could almost make his assessment from just that.

Nick drove up a wide driveway to the main entrance. People burst out of the building with two gurneys, followed by more men, with more weapons. There was suspicion in the air. Wisp got out of the van and stood by the front of it. Away from the doors where they retrieved William and Bruno. Away from the women that scooped up Lily and the other children, cooing over them. There was a welcome for Jean and Margaret. And people dressed in white, like a real medical staff, calling for procedures and medicine as they wheeled the injured away. William would survive. Lily would thrive here. Wisp could feel the bright minds of curious children poking around the edges of the worried adults. The feels and smells and sounds all said that this was a good place. The people he’d brought here would be safe. As soon as he was rested, he could leave.

In the surrounding woods he could feel the occasional flicker of busy minds. There were a few outliers. People living nearby but not of the settlement. That was fairly unusual. Most of the settlements he'd seen were like little forts. They didn't trust those that would not throw in their lot with the rest. But there was no anger or suspicion that he could sense.

Closer in were the fields and people diligently working them. A sore back here and a worried mind there, but those people felt an ownership of the crops. They weren’t slaves. The smell of green growing things and healthy soil was rich in his nostrils. The crops looked healthy, well protected. Someone planned well. Lily would learn here what fresh food looked like. She would do well here. He was not needed.

The curve of the hills combined with the storm baffles would protect the area against the most powerful storm. This was a good place. Well designed for the modern climate. The shade of the woods called to him. A den up there might be pleasant. There was a train station not too far away for emergency food. Or he could try bartering with the people here. They seemed like they might accept a day in the fields as payment.

“Wisp?”

He startled. His mind had been so far away in possibilities that he hadn’t felt Nick return.

“Angus would like to talk to you.”

“He is your leader?”

“Sort of.”

The tension of earlier had been replaced with worry. Nick seemed weighed down by thoughts that spiral up into alarm and back down to concern.

Wisp followed Nick into the building. There were a lot of people here. Not so many that they weighed too heavily on his mental barriers, but enough that living in this building would be uncomfortable. Nick led the way through wide hallways, brightly lit and ornamented with children’s drawings. Classrooms had been converted into residences and offices. The use of the space seemed well managed. A few people glanced at him in passing. Wisp was surprised at the lack of reaction. “No one seems disturbed by my presence.”

“That’s because they know that I wouldn’t bring any danger into this place.” Nick’s tone inferred that he’d make sure that was true.

Nick took a sharp left into an office. A man in rumpled clothing stood at a desk, staring at papers laid out before him. He had unruly white hair and a slight hunch to his shoulders.

“Angus.”

The man looked up, bright blue eyes refocusing from puzzlement to joy. “Ah! Our biobot!” A rush of excitement and wonder swirled around him. “Please.” He gestured to a sitting area, several mismatched armchairs arranged around a battered coffee table.

Wisp sat in a leather armchair that felt strongly of Nick. There was a tray on the table with mugs of coffee and plates of pie, a wonderfully convivial setting. Wisp hesitated, expecting the worst, but the undiluted joy that Angus exuded was hard to dismiss.

“Coffee, yes!” Angus said with a happy grin. “And Susan has graced us with a pie from the last of the strawberries. I’m sorry to say no milk or sugar. We don’t have a cow and our stock of the sweet stuff is perilously low.”

“I haven’t had coffee in years,” Wisp said as he sniffed the aromatic steam. “I didn't think anyone was eating fresh food anymore.”

“So Nicky tells me.” Angus was handing around the mugs and pie when a fourth man joined them. “This is Martin. He is the head of our Watch and bursting with questions.”

Wisp nodded to the man. He wondered if Angus was a bit gifted because he was absolutely right about Martin. The man barely hid his anger and distrust. But he did contain it, purely out of respect for Angus. Wisp felt the strong connections to Angus in both Nick and Martin. They both held deep affection and respect for the older man. As Angus was in charge, this would be a discussion, not an interrogation. Wisp relaxed a little and let himself enjoy the food. The coffee was lovely. The pie, excellent. But the tension in the room was rising.

“What do you wish to know?” Wisp asked.

“Everything!” Angus said with a laugh. “But I will have to restrict myself to the here and now, eh?”

Angus felt decent, honorable. There was almost a sparkle to the feel of him, light, giddy, and yet underneath the strength of bedrock. Wisp believed that he strived to know everything. The man had an insatiable curiosity constrained only by an equally boundless respect for the world. Wisp felt that as long as Angus retained power as head of this settlement, Wisp would be safe. He gave Angus a nod of acknowledgment.

Martin opened his mouth, but Angus waved to cut him off. “Let me get all the awkward questions out of the way.” He looked to Wisp as if for permission.

“Ask.”

“What were you made for?”

“I was not designed for a specific purpose.” Wisp felt a swirl of uneasiness pass through Nick. Distrust ratcheted up in Martin.

“Excellent. How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“What? How long do they live?” Martin asked. Astonishment colored his distrust.

Angus tsked at him with an amused smile. “They may have been built, not born, but I assure you that they are entirely human. Something certain factions tried very hard to play down.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting with distaste. “Built. Never liked that term. Makes it sound like you were put together from spare parts.”

“Cooked?” Martin offered. His shoulder twitched as his unease cranked up. He blinked, looking away as a flashback burst out. It was powerful enough that the images lingered, bleeding into the room. Wisp had a harsh flash of rows of burned out tanks, half formed bodies rotting on the floor. Martin had been to one of the raided labs. The disgust and anger was hard to decipher. Wisp wasn't sure if it was the process or the destruction that disturbed the man so deeply.

“God, that makes us sound like cannibals.” Angus poked his mug in Wisp's direction. “What do you call it?”

“Printed.”

“Hmph. Can't say I like that term much better. Makes you sound like a book.”

“You're sure there isn't something else added?” Martin asked Angus. Wisp sensed that he doubted the facts but not the man.

“Absolutely. There was some tinkering done with DNA, but it was all human to begin with. Tell me, Wisp, I'm so curious, have you grown at all?”

“I have. But only a few inches.”

“I knew it!” Angus was extremely pleased with himself. “They said you were all full grown, but the body has its own imperatives, doesn't it? No one gave it enough time. No one
waited
to see how you would mature. I would love to have more data on this. I knew that the human body would grow and age regardless of the claims put forth.”