Authors: Kathryn Lance
“All this while were scientists at work
In labs, in secret, men and women both.
They found the key to life within all creatures;
They used it to unlock forbidden doors.
This deadly secret key was DNA,
So small it can’t be seen but only known,
And yet it has the power to make life.
They learned to work with DNA and change it.”
Now Lucille, Lucky’s mother, began to read:
“And so our fathers thought to change the world,
To help all men with their new secret knowledge.
They changed the DNA inside E. coli;
They gave it appetite to eat spilled oil;
And thus was born the mighty Petrophage.”
In spite of the difficult words, Evvy had no trouble following the story as other women took it up; how the Petrophage bacteria had spread, first to the ships which brought them to fresh oil spills, and then, through men, to all machines on land. Finally, having eaten all the oil, the creatures had changed again and began devouring any products derived from oil.
All the senior women were chanting now, in a wailing singsong. Evvy felt the back of her neck prickle as the voices grew louder and more insistent.
“The world they knew began to slow and stop.
And Petrophage had still not done its work.
Petrophage now came into the labs,
Where evil scientists were tampering with life,
Creating fearsome weapons and diseases.
To keep these secret horrors from the world,
Were traps and cages made of special oil.
But everything was food for Petrophage.
Changed DNA was let into the world,
Attacking, changing, humans, plants, and beasts.
The death and terror spread from place to place,
And mothers died in giving birth to daughters.”
The reading suddenly stopped. Evvy started involuntarily, then Gunda went on, in a quiet tone of voice.
“This was the beginning of the Change,” she said.
“And this is the hope of the Change.” said Mira.
“The hope of the Change,” continued Hilda, “is that terrible weapons can never again be made.”
“The hope of the Change,” added Lucille, “is that civilization may one day be restored.”
“The hope of the Change,” said all the women together, “is the hope of the Garden.”
There was a long pause, and then the old woman began to speak, conversationally. “You may not have understood everything here tonight, but as you study and grow older, you will understand more. The Garden is one of several enclaves formed by scientists who survived the Change. They were devoted to two causes: first, saving as much knowledge as possible from the past; and second, applying that knowledge in an attempt to undo the damage caused by the Change. They were hunted down in those terrible days, and many of them were killed, but some survived, and continued to work, in secret.
“That is what we do here. We are scholars, preserving past knowledge. And we are scientists, working to alter the legacy of the Change. This is the most important work there is. If we do not succeed, within two or three generations there will be no humans left on the earth.”
The old woman had finished speaking, and Evvy saw that her face was wet with tears. She felt profoundly moved, and excited, and still a little frightened. All these feelings, along with her gratitude toward Zach, and her longing for him, were somehow connected in a complicated knot at the base of her spine.
Now Gunda stepped forward, holding white coats for Lucky and for Evvy.
“This is the uniform of the scientist,” she said. “Welcome to the Garden, Daughters. And remember that even if someday you should leave the Garden physically, your life remains dedicated to our goals.”
The fish-oil lamps had been turned up, and sweets and flower wine were set on the long lab tables. Evvy and Lucky, both dazed and happy, were being congratulated by the women of the Garden, many of them still obviously moved by the ceremony. Evvy was just starting to sip a cup of the fragrant gold-colored wine when there was a heart-stopping cry from outside, then the sound of running footsteps. The outlaw attack had begun.
As she had been painstakingly trained by Katha, Evvy ran with the other women to the shed off the lodge where weapons were stored. Taking up a very light museum-sword and a thick stake, Evvy stationed herself as she was assigned, at the outside entrance to the children’s dormitory wing.
Hyper-alert and with every muscle trembling, Evvy realized only when it was over that she was still wearing her white lab coat. The full moon showed her a score of women moving in the yard, their swords clashing with those of the invaders. The outlaws seemed to be few in number, but fierce. It was clear that the Garden women were winning; still, Evvy stood ready, prepared to fight, her heart beating quickly, not knowing how she would react, only that she would never allow any harm to come to the Garden’s children.
She jumped as something touched her, and then she realized that it was sweat running down her body under her loose clothing, in spite of the coolness of the night.
Time seemed to have lost its normal flow; Evvy had no idea whether hours had passed since the attack began, or only minutes. She found herself wishing that Zach was with her, and imagined his power and courage flowing into her, giving her strength.
She was startled by a noise close by and turned quickly, then gasped. Staggering toward her through the shadows was a man in tattered dark rags, with a crazed look in his eyes. He held aloft, in both his hands, a heavy ornate sword. He lifted the sword above his head, grinning crazily, clearing intending to bring it down on Evvy, cutting her in two.
For a moment she simply gaped at him, as if he were as unreal as her daydream of Zach. Then her training took over and she stepped back, lifting her sword, prepared to fight. But her back was pressed against the wall of the lodge, and she realized that she had no room to maneuver, to practice the thrusts and counter-thrusts Katha had taught her. Never, in all her weapons practice, had she imagined that she would actually have to use the sword.
I must protect the children
, she told herself, and she held the sword in front of her, resolved to do as much injury as she could before her attacker overcame her. She wondered what it would feel like when his sword cut into her flesh, and felt the strength going out of her arms. Her sword started to tremble in her hands as the grinning man began to bring his weapon down.
At that moment there was a sudden eerie howl, as if something long dead had awakened, and the man looked up, his eyes going wide with terror. Evvy turned her head in time to see Baby leap off the slanted roof of the lodge and land on the man’s chest with all four of her paws outstretched, her hooked claws extended. The man screamed and fell backward, dropping the sword as his hands frantically pulled Baby away from his body. Still howling, Baby raked his arms with her claws and bit at his fingers. With a terrified, spastic motion, he at last freed himself and stumbled away as quickly as he could, his sword forgotten.
Evvy realized she should pursue him, but she felt suddenly so weak it was all she could do to remain standing. Baby shook herself all over, then approached and rubbed against Evvy’s trembling legs with a reassuring “
Mowr
?”
Evvy knelt and hugged the fox-cat. “Thank you, Baby,” she said. “You were watching over me all along, weren’t you?”
In answer, the little animal licked her cheek. After a deep, shuddering breath, Evvy resumed her station, holding the sword tightly in both her hands. The fox-cat sat at her feet, her sharp ears pricked alertly, her tail twitching from time to time as she looked about.
Most of the fighting had now moved to the south wall, away from Evvy’s view. Despite Baby’s presence, she prayed it would not return to the lodge. She heard shouts and one horrible scream, a man’s; shrieks; the clash of weapons; curses; the sound of bodies falling heavily; and finally silence. The silence was presently broken by sudden, surprised sobbing.
After a moment Gunda appeared, her short red hair plastered to her wet, dirt-smeared face.
“It’s over,” she said. “Put away your weapon and come inside.”
As Evvy relaxed, she realized that her entire body was tense and shaking. Her tunic was stuck to her sides with sweat, and her throat ached from holding back tears, She had been far more frightened than she had wanted to admit.
Most of the women, except the Mistress, were in the lodge. Hilda was preparing herb tea in the large kettle, while Mira and Lucille bandaged minor cuts and wounds. On a long bench someone lay sleeping, exhausted. Suddenly Evvy realized that the woman, a skinny girl named Joan, was not sleeping but was dead. A dark stain of red covered the upper part of her tunic. Evvy felt suddenly sick and looked into the fireplace. The loudest sound in the room was the sobbing of the woman who had been Joan’s lover. Presently Hilda offered the sobbing woman a warm drink and led her outside while Gunda directed that the body be covered and removed.
In spite of the months of drills, in spite of the fact that the women had in fact won this battle, Evvy knew from the silence in the room, and the sorrowful, strained expressions, that such an attack had never really been expected by most of the women, except, perhaps, those few who had been trained as soldiers. Lucky, who, Evvy knew, had been stationed at the other end of the lodge, was pale in a chalky, sick-looking way, and she was clinging to Lucille as if she had become a child again. Suddenly Evvy remembered Zach’s struggle with the highwaymen at the bridge, and wondered if he had been frightened then, as she was tonight, and had forced himself to act in spite of fear, simply because it had to be done.
The door opened again and Katha entered, with her deputy, Kim. In front of them were two securely bound and bloody men. Katha herself was wounded, her right arm loosely bandaged and seeping blood, but she seemed not to notice.
She pushed the men into the center of the room, where they fell, groaning. Her face was so twisted with anger that she was almost unrecognizable.
“Three more are dead,” she said. “The rest escaped.” She turned to the men. Evvy could see now that they were uncommonly dirty, their long hair and beards ungroomed and tangled. One of them was grinning foolishly, and Evvy’s heart lurched as she recognized the man who had attacked her earlier. Baby, sitting in her lap, began to growl, and she tightened her arms around her pet, whispering, “Shh.”
“Who are you?” Katha asked the men on the floor.
“Poor wanderers,” said the grinning man.
“Twelve heavily armed men are not common wanderers,” Katha said. “Why did you attack us?”
The man shrugged.
“You’ll answer now!” Katha said. She kicked the pointed toe of her boot into the man’s groin. With a grunt he doubled up and lay there, wriggling and gasping. Katha turned to the other man. “I can kick you too,” she said. “With your stomach wound it might kill you. Will you tell me who you are?”
“Kill me, then,” the man said, his eyes taking on a crazed look. “Kill us both. You can’t kill the truth.”
“What nonsense is this?” asked Katha. She was about to kick the man again when Gunda laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Let it go till morning,” said Gunda. “You’re wounded.”
Katha shook her head. “I’m all right,” she said, but Evvy thought she looked pale and sick, and her face was wet.
“Who sent you here?” Katha asked the first man, her voice noticeably weaker. She kicked him again, and Evvy turned her head. She did not know how the man could stand the pain and still not say anything; but the look in his eyes was that of a madman. Perhaps he did not feel anything, not really.
At last Katha gave up, looking disgusted and a little frightened.
“You’ll tell us what we want to know tomorrow,” she said. She ordered the men locked into the root cellar for the night.
In the morning the prisoners were found dead, both hanging by their belts. On the floor, scratched into the dirt over and over until it made a deep furrow, was the sign of a double spiral.
The next day the Principal arrived with his troops.
A
CHILLING DAWN MIST TURNED
the Principal’s breath white as he squatted just outside his tent, sipping herb tea. To the east, splinters of light sparkled on the lake; around him the trees and brush were thick with red-and-brown leaves. He had scarcely slept all night, despite fatigue from the week-long journey, despite the exhaustion of setting up camp for more than two hundred men. The clearing was now thickly set with tents and hazy with smoke from early-morning campfires.
It had been fourteen months since Zach’s disappearance, and he felt as if he had aged ten years in that time. He stood, his knees creaking, and settled his cloak around his shoulders, then motioned to Daniel, the young general.
“I’ll go alone,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. Prepare for action, but do nothing. Come after me only if I don’t return by nightfall.”
The younger man seemed about to speak, no doubt to urge an armed escort, but simply nodded. Daniel, like all the Principal’s men, had learned what came of arguing once the Principal had decided on a course of action.
The Principal started up the familiar, steep trail, his leather boots slipping on the wet yellow leaves. His mouth was as dry as if he had spent the night in drinking, and his breath came heavily by the time he reached the top. He felt a physical jolt when the Garden appeared. Its sheer bulk was still overwhelming, and though the wall seemed shorter and less imposing than he recalled, a rush of memories flooded his mind. He had heard that leaders had arisen from among the younger women, yet in his mind’s eye he saw the old woman, her white lab coat fluttering behind her, directing everything herself, from the work rosters to the choice of plants and animals to be crossed in breeding experiments. She must be very old by now, he thought, and though he knew he had nothing to fear from her, his stomach clenched when he thought of the inevitable confrontation.