Authors: John Joseph Adams
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Anthologies, #Fantasy
But if it’s really to distract her, then why do I say it so softly that maybe I don’t want her to hear?
Then I see them under the trees, standing beside Jenna’s father.
• • • •
Dant16 waves one tentacle, vaguely in time with the music. Dancers stomp and whirl on the flattened grass. The river murmurs, shining in the moonlight, reflecting the bonfire flames. From somewhere comes the sweet odor of wild mint.
How can I be thinking what is gnawing at my brain?
Jenna and Jake come along the path from the bungalows. She tries to pull him toward the dance; he shakes his head, smiling. There’s something wrong with his smile but I don’t know what. The bonfire behind them haloes both their heads with dancing gold. The fiddles sing; crickets chirp in the grass; the rising moon shines every moment brighter in the darkening sky.
Jenna turns to talk to Kay Caruthers. Jenna looks as if she is introducing Jake, but he is no longer there. He moves quickly toward me, not running but with no sign of his limp. Closer, and I can see his wrong smile. “Hello, Larry,” he says, pulls a ceramic knife from his jacket and plunges it into Dant16’s forehead.
I can’t move. My heart slows and vertigo swoops over me.
Dant23 lets out a shrill, prolonged shriek I have never heard before. He tries to run but Jake pulls the knife from Dant16 and drives it, lightning fast, into Dant23. Both aliens crumple to the grass, oozing foul-smelling liquid.
People rush over, freeze, sway or crumple or stare, eyes wide, mouths gaping, oxygenation and heart rate falling.
All but Jenna.
She runs to Jake and beats him — beats him! — with small, ineffectual fists. “Why? Why?”
He grabs her arms and pins them to her sides. His shoulders shake — this has cost him, too, but not enough. Not nearly enough. “Carl,” he gasps, “Kaylie, Jerome, Matt . . .”
“Why?”
Neither of them show any signs of EIFB. I don’t wonder about the reason. I know.
“Listen, Jenna,” Jake says. He has control of himself now. He’s wrestled her against him so that she cannot strike. “They’re the enemy. They fucked up our biology, made us —”
“They made us
better!”
“No.
They made us sheep, passive and fearful so that we won’t interfere while they take over Earth. They want our planet.”
“They gave us the Blessing! No more violence, no more wars —”
“No more progress, no more discoveries, almost no more sex! How many more generations before humans disappear completely? And all without the violence they can’t stand face-to-face, any more than these people can.”
“But you —”
“I what?” He holds her more gently now; she struggles less. My breath comes more normally.
Jenna says, “You were able to —
how?”
“Because I had to.
We
have to — listen, there are more of us. More than you might think. We want the Dant to leave. With enough violence, they
will
leave. We’ll convince them that Earth will never be free of humans. If the fuckers don’t wipe us out first.”
“The Dant don’t —”
“Yes,” he says grimly, “they do. They laser us from space, like the cowards they are. But we will succeed.”
Zane and Ted are coming out of EIFB. Uncertainly, they step toward Jake. He raises his fist and both retreat.
I find my voice. “You don’t know what success is.”
Jake says savagely, “I know what it isn’t.”
Jenna — my Jenna, bewildered and upset but not nearly enough frightened — says, “But I still don’t understand why the —”
“Jenna, I don’t have time for this! Don’t you understand? I have to leave now, before whatever trackers these bastards use finds me. I have to go.”
They look at each other. I don’t understand the look. I have never been in the place they are now: wild, challenging, hot.
I think
No no no no no . . .
“Daddy,” she says, turning toward me, and I know I’ve already lost. She hasn’t called me “Daddy” for years. “Daddy” was Jenna at three, running toward me to be lifted into my arms. At seven, holding my hands on a walk by a sun-dappled river. At eleven, chin in her hand, listening as I explained crossbreeding plants. Jenna who loved me, not some example of outdated, over-sexed, dangerous “masculinity” with a knife in his hand and an attitude that could destroy the world.
Or remake it.
Tears choke Jenna’s voice. “Daddy, I have to go with him.” And then fiercely, “I have to
know.
If he’s wrong, I’ll come back.”
She trusts that he would let her go. She trusts everything. He trusts nothing.
Yet they are alike. I know this in ways that Jake, not a scientist, never will. I know it because a crossbred strain of wheat contains far more zinc than either parent plant. Because bear attacks, however terrible, are milder than in my great-grandmother Carrie’s day, or my grandmother Sophie’s, or mine. Because I’ve read about regression to the mean, about genetic “throwbacks” that always counterbalance Darwinian selection. About the eternally disturbed, and then restored, balance between predator and prey, violence and cooperation, sex and aggression.
Jenna kisses me. Jake has the grace to say, “Larry, I’m sorry.” Then they are running, sprinting hand-in-hand toward the cover of the dark woods.
Around me, the villagers — my people — move, shudder, sob. The bodies of Dant16 and Dant23 lie at my feet. On the horizon, a blue dot appears in the sky, moving fast.
I can’t imagine what kind of world Jake and Jenna will make, what kind of world their children will inherit. I don’t want to imagine it. But I know, in my bones, that it will come.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Kress
is the author of thirty-two books, including twenty-five novels, four collections of short stories, and three books on writing. Her work has won five Nebulas, two Hugos, a Sturgeon, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award. Most recent works are
Yesterday’s Kin
(Tachyon, 2014) and the forthcoming
Best of Nancy Kress
(Subterranean, Autumn 2015). In addition to writing, Kress often teaches at various venues around the country and abroad; in 2008 she was the Picador visiting lecturer at the University of Leipzig. Kress lives in Seattle with her husband, writer Jack Skillingstead, and Cosette, the world’s most spoiled toy poodle.
Agents:
John thanks his agent Seth Fishman, who supported this experiment and provided feedback and counsel whenever he needed it, and also to his former agent Joe Monti (now a book editor who he plans to sell lots of anthologies to), who was very enthusiastic about this idea when it first occurred to him, and encouraged John to pursue his idea to self-publish it. Hugh likewise thanks his agent Kristin Nelson for all of her support and for constantly playing out his leash.
Art/Design:
Thanks to Julian Aguilar Faylona for providing wonderful cover art for all three volumes of The Apocalypse Triptych, and to Jason Gurley for adding in all the most excellent design elements that took the artwork from being mere images and transformed them into
books.
These volumes would not be the same without them.
Proofreaders:
Thanks to Rachael K. Jones, Anthony Cardno, Kevin McNeil, Andy Sima, and Adam Dwyer.
Narrators/Producers:
Thanks to Stefan Rudnicki and the whole team at Skyboat Media for producing the audiobook version of this anthology, and to narrators Vikas Adam, Gabrielle de Cuir, Justine Eyre, Roxanne Hernandez, Alex Hyde-White, Emily Rankin, Stefan Rudnicki and Judy Young for lending their vocal talents to the production.
Family:
John sends thanks to his wife, Christie, his mom, Marianne, and his sister, Becky, for all their love and support, and their endless enthusiasm for all his new projects. He also wanted to thank his sister-in-law Kate and stepdaughter Grace who had to listen to him blab incessantly about this project as it was coming together, ruining many a dinner. Hugh thanks his wife Amber, who co-edits this wonderful life they have together. His chapters would be boring and lonely without her.
Readers:
Thanks to all the readers and reviewers of this anthology, and also all the readers and reviewers who loved Hugh’s novels and John’s other anthologies, making it possible for this book to happen in the first place.
Writers:
And last, but certainly not least: a big thanks to all of the authors who appear in this anthology. It has been an honor and a privilege. As fans, we look forward to whatever you come up with next.
John Joseph Adams
is the series editor of
Best American Science Fiction & Fantasy,
published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. He is also the bestselling editor of many other anthologies, such as
The Mad Scientist’s Guide to World Domination, Armored, Brave New Worlds, Wastelands,
and
The Living Dead.
Called “the reigning king of the anthology world” by Barnes & Noble, John is a winner of the Hugo Award (for which he has been nominated eight times) and is a six-time World Fantasy Award finalist. John is also the editor and publisher of the digital magazines
Lightspeed
and
Nightmare,
and is a producer for Wired.com’s
The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy
podcast. Find him on Twitter @johnjosephadams.
Hugh Howey
is the author of the acclaimed post-apocalyptic novel
Wool,
which became a sudden success in 2011. Originally self-published as a series of novelettes, the
Wool
omnibus is frequently the #1 bestselling book on Amazon.com and is a
New York Times
and
USA TODAY
bestseller. The book was also optioned for film by Ridley Scott, and is now available in print from major publishers all over the world. Hugh’s other books include
Shift,
Dust,
Sand,
the Molly Fyde series,
The Hurricane,
Half Way Home,
The Plagiarist,
and
I, Zombie.
Hugh lives in Jupiter, Florida with his wife Amber and his dog Bella. Find him on Twitter @hughhowey.
THE END HAS COME
© 2015 by John Joseph Adams & Hugh Howey
INTRODUCTION
© 2015 by John Joseph Adams
BANNERLESS
© 2015 by CARRIE VAUGHN
LIKE ALL BEAUTIFUL PLACES
© 2015 by Megan Arkenberg
DANCING WITH A STRANGER IN THE LAND OF NOD
© 2015 by Will McIntosh
THE SEVENTH DAY OF DEER CAMP
© 2015 by Scott Sigler
PROTOTYPE
© 2015 by Sarah Langan
ACTS OF CREATION
© 2015 by Chris Avellone
RESISTANCE
© 2015 by Seanan McGuire
WANDERING STAR
© 2015 by Leife Shallcross
HEAVEN COME DOWN
© 2015 by Ben H. Winters
AGENT NEUTRALIZED
© 2015 by David Wellington
GOODNIGHT EARTH
© 2015 by Annie Bellet
CARRIERS
© 2015 by Tananarive Due
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF THE PROMISED LAND
© 2015 by Robin Wasserman