Earth Zero: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 2) (6 page)

“Can you swim?” Franklin asked.

The boy shivered and closed his eyes.

Not that we’ll get a chance. Most likely we’ll smash to bits on submerged rocks.

Franklin tossed his rifle aside and shucked Stephen’s from his shoulder, along with his pack. “Don’t need that breaking your neck.”

Franklin wanted to give Stephen some tips, such as landing feet first, but a rack of antlers poked from the nearby brush. Franklin pushed him over. “Go!”

Stephen shrieked on the way down and Franklin waited until he heard a liquid
ker-plunk.
The deer broke free and burst onto the ledge, sweeping its rack of antlers at him and growling low in its chest.

“So long, you son of a bitch,” Franklin said, hopping into space.

The fall couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds but it seemed like days. Franklin felt himself turning, gazing up at the aurora and the deer head that protruded from the ledge. He didn’t want to land on his back. Dying was one thing, but breaking his spine and lying there helpless while all manner of carnivorous amphibians nibbled at him wasn’t his idea of a party.

He tried to sit up so he could tuck his body over his knees but the water slammed him before he finished the maneuver. The impact drove the wind from his chest and the cold penetrated straight to the bone, mercifully numbing him so that he didn’t fully feel the pain of splashdown. His muscles threatened to peel from his geriatric frame. Bubbles roiled across his face as water rushed into his nose and mouth.

His feet hit bottom and he kicked away, caught in an undercurrent that tried to drag him beneath the rumbling base of the falls. He finally burst free of the surface and gasped once before being tugged under again. He kicked, thinking some aquatic creature was wrapped around his ankle, but he discovered it was just a fallen tree whose sodden branches rose and fell with the surging water.

“Stephen!” he called when his head bobbed to the surface again. The rapids pulled him downstream, and he slapped at jagged rocks trying to stop his momentum. He only succeeded in ripping his fingers open.

He rolled onto his ass and braced his boots before him as he slid down the mountain a jarring drop at a time. At least the water was carrying him away from the deer, but he might be getting separated from Stephen, too. He didn’t have time to look, as all his focus was on taking the next breath and avoiding the next deadly obstacle.

Franklin was several hundred yards downstream when the river leveled off to wide, sandy shallows. He dragged himself to the riverbank and lay there breathing mud and leaves until he’d somewhat recovered. Despite the heavy canopy of hardwoods overhead, he kept an eye out for Stephen in the gloom. He expected the boy’s body to come drifting past him at any moment.

Fifteen minutes later, he crawled into the forest and assessed his condition. No broken bones, no major contusions, just a head-to-heel throbbing as if his body was one large bruise.

He was unarmed, shivering, and alone in a forest full of predators.

He began walking, or at least shuffling one foot after another in what was more or less a single direction.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The infant Zap was named Geneva, she told them.

“Only the small of us are allowed to have names,” Geneva said.

“I have a name,” Rachel said.

“You’re not one of us.”

Rachel didn’t want to argue that point. She welcomed all such affirming evidence she could gather. Since her telepathic bond had dissolved, her glistening eyes were the only visible sign of the mutant intrusion of her body.

After the public spectacle with the reptile, a squadron of Zaps had led Rachel and DeVontay up the incline and onto street level, where charred concrete buildings were interspersed with crumbling edifices whose origins dated back more than a century. The streets were cracked with heat and the scattered wreckage of cars was blackened from fire. Broken glass reflected light back toward the sun that had indirectly caused the destruction.

This was a small Southern town that had died as surely as those that were torched by Union General William Tecumseh Sherman as his army marched to the sea during a war that would soon be forgotten.

Set amidst the ruins at infrequent intervals were silver domes without visible doors. They appeared to be large enough to house dozens of Zaps and whatever activities they carried on inside. Although a few masonry structures appeared undamaged on the horizon, there was no sign of human activity or life.

Geneva said the town was Wilkesboro, which Rachel recalled from the map as being about thirty miles east of Stonewall. The Zaps must have carried them, unconscious, after the collapse of the barn. The trip likely took a full day. Even given the nearly tireless energy of the Zaps, they would be slowed by their human burdens.

Just when Rachel was convinced the Zaps were escorting her and DeVontay to the edge of town to kill them and leave their bodies lying out for buzzards and other scavengers, they were led down a small flight of stairs to a wooden door. It appeared to be the basement entrance of a residential unit that was now nothing but splintered wood, warped plastics, and a leaning shelf of asphalt shingles. But they were led inside the door to discover a dome constructed inside the rubble, concealing it from anyone who might search from above.

They were placed in a concrete cell with brick walls that apparently had once served as a laundry room, because hoses and faucets protruded from the wall. Blankets were piled on the floor, along with clothes of various sizes. There was a metal bucket in one corner, and judging from the rank odor in the room, they weren’t the first occupants.

“We apologize for the lack of comfort,” Geneva said. “We are still developing our skills in fostering humans.”

“I could’ve let that monster eat you,” Rachel said.

“That would’ve been educational,” Geneva said, without the slightest concern that her existence might have been erased. She rested in the arms of an older Zap that stared straight ahead while the remaining Zaps waited outside the room.

“Where are the others who were with us? Lars and Tara, and the girl Squeak?”

“They are safe. We will bring dinner later, since we’ve learned the hard way that your kind needs food at regular intervals.”

That had been hours ago, and Rachel and DeVontay were still lethargic from whatever weapon the Zaps had wielded against them. A tiny window high in the wall had allowed the last of the sunlight in, but now the room was completely dark when Rachel shut her eyes. They’d managed to drain a little trapped water from one of the old rubber hoses, but the faucets offered nothing but rusty creaks. The town’s water system was as dead as the rest of it.

The distant droning of the engine returned sometime during the night, creating a faint tingle they felt in the floor and walls. After a failed attempt at sleeping, they talked over the events that had led them to captivity.

“One of them saved us,” DeVontay said. “He pointed that little hand clicker thing at the monster and it dropped dead.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “And he was definitely acting sneaky, like he didn’t want the other Zaps to know.”

“But that’s impossible. If they’re all mentally linked like you say, the other Zaps would’ve known. I’ve never seen one act like that.”

“Do we really know how they’re supposed to act? I’m not so sure I suddenly lost my telepathic ability. I think they took it away.”

“Like, blocked you somehow?” DeVontay searched for her hand in the dark and held it like a lifeline.

“Why not? If you think of thoughts as a form of energy, and it seems like they’re experimenting with it—”

“Like all these metallic domes. Maybe they block certain signals.”

“Or amplify them,” Rachel said. “They could be listening right now.”

“We’re guinea pigs, we just don’t understand the maze they’re running us through.”

“Maybe they’re not as all-for-one as we think. The babies always set themselves apart, like their intelligence makes them special. Better than the other Zaps. Even Kokona acts like that.”

“‘Some are more equal than others.’ Like in Orwell’s
Animal Farm
.”

“I never read that, but Stephen’s always talking about it. Anyway, why did that one save us?”

Rachel put her head on DeVontay’s shoulder, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Maybe it was saving the baby. That’s more likely.”

“Then why did it—I think it was a ‘he’ but it’s so damned hard to tell them apart—run away after shooting that thing? And what kind of weapon is that, anyway? It barely makes any noise and it doesn’t seem to aim very well.”

“If it’s the same weapon they used to make the barn collapse, they probably don’t know how to control it very well. Like a new technology they’re playing with.”

“Yeah,” DeVontay said. “Except their games might destroy what’s left of this town, and us along with it.”

“That Zap did seem familiar somehow.”

“Come on, Rachel, all those knob-heads look alike. Especially since they all started wearing those silver suits.”

“They’ve created some amazing things, you have to admit. Those weapons, the domes, the metal birds.”

Something banged outside their door and they fell quiet, waiting. Rachel opened her eyes just as Geneva entered with three other Zaps, the smell of food making her mouth water. Her mutant constitution caused her to require less food than when she was fully human, but she hadn’t eaten in days. She could only imagine how hungry DeVontay was.

One of the Zaps placed ceramic plates on the floor ten feet away from them, as if worried that the humans might rush them. Geneva waited with an imperious tilt of her head, cradled in the arms of a short, plump Zap that looked to be Rachel’s age. She decided there
were
differences among them if you took the time to study them.

And if the outward differences were discernable, then inner ones likely existed as well.

“Don’t be shy,” Geneva said. “We prepared it according to recipes we discovered.”

DeVontay’s face was shiny and eager in the soft glow of their eyes, licking his chapped lips like an animal. He looked at Rachel and raised the eyebrow above his good eye as if to ask “
Poison
?” and then must have decided the Zaps had plenty of easier ways to kill them. He shamelessly crawled toward the food and sat before one of the plates, not waiting for Rachel.

“Do you not hunger?” Geneva said to Rachel, and she sensed the baby was taunting her about her former mutant qualities. As if the baby knew more about Rachel’s condition than Rachel did.

She joined DeVontay, who was already scooping up handfuls of food and shoving them in his mouth. The Zaps hadn’t provided utensils, napkins, or drinking water, so their research wasn’t as complete as Geneva boasted. Unless Geneva was deliberately removing any pretense of civilized behavior.

At least their captors didn’t dump the food on the floor.

She recognized the vegetation as collard greens, a Southern favorite that would do a fine job propagating itself in a field without human maintenance. There were also lumpy potatoes, another crop that produced volunteer plants if left untended. She was surprised to find meat, and realized that was the cause of the mouth-watering smell.

She picked up a hunk of it, lean and warm, and put it to her nose. It had obviously been roasted over an open fire. Chicken?

DeVontay didn’t seem concerned with its source, as he chewed noisily, licking at his fingers between bites. Geneva seemed to find great amusement in this, as she giggled several times, although the other Zaps remained as stone-faced as usual.

“Go on, Rachel,” Geneva cooed. “Eat up.”

Rachel took a tentative bite. It tasted mild and refreshing, although a little gamey and muddy. “Not bad. What it is?”

“Our friend from earlier. The one that died with my head in its mouth. Turnabout’s fair play, I have read.”

The reptile.

Rachel spat out the morsel and wiped her mouth.

“I like it,” DeVontay said, with exaggerated pleasure. “Tastes like ’gator.”

“If I had more teeth, I’d try it myself,” Geneva said.

“When can we see our people?” Rachel asked.

“When the sun rises.”

“What do you want with us?”

“So many questions, Rachel Wheeler. You had your chance to know everything and you betrayed us.”

“Maybe I know more than you think I do,” Rachel said in defiance.

“You know what we let you know,” Geneva said with a barely hidden mirth. “Just ask Kokona if you don’t believe me.”

Rachel stiffened at the mention of the baby she’d loved and tended for the past four years in the bunker. They shared a bond that was in some ways deeper than mother-and-daughter because of their telepathy and mutant abilities. But their relationship was also oddly adult and mature, because Kokona’s intelligence made her seem so much older than her physical form suggested.

She realized she hadn’t thought of the bunker for more than a few seconds at a time since they’d been captured. And Geneva had just revealed that the Zaps maintained some sort of connection or contact with Kokona despite the geographic distance separating them.

DeVontay stopped eating and looked at Rachel, his lone eye imploring her to say nothing as he gave a quick shake of his head. DeVontay was right: any reaction on her part would be used against them. Best to remain silent, which Geneva would take as ignorance and serve to feed her sense of superiority.

Rachel picked up some of the greens and held them over her tilted-back head. She opened her mouth and made a big display of dropping the food inside. She spoke as she smacked and chomped like a child. “Yummy.
Humph
. Do we
humph humph
get any dessert?”

“Not unless you clean your plate,” Geneva said. Zap babies were often playful and silly and shrewd, but Geneva’s tone suggested the very human emotion of annoyance.

Bingo. The smarter they are, the more they think they’re two steps ahead of the game.

“We’ll need some water unless you want us to die,” DeVontay said.

“I’ll send down some rain water. We’ve developed a collection system for industrial use, but I suppose we can spare some for our treasured guests.”

Geneva must’ve sent a mental command to the other Zaps, because they turned as one to exit the dim room. At the door, the Zap holding Geneva turned and the baby said, “You both tried to kill me and you failed. And I can barely even support the weight of my own head. What does that say about the great human race when even the tiniest of us is too strong for you?”

“I never thought of it as a genocidal war,” Rachel said. “Some of us do, sure, but I’m still hoping for peaceful co-existence.”

“Is that why you hid away in a military bunker while we’ve spent these past years designing the future? We might be an accident of nature, but that’s all life is. An accident. Until now.”

The veiled threat sounded almost laughable coming from that squeaky, childlike voice, but the plump face was cold and stern. Geneva’s eyes smoldered like stars consuming themselves from the inside out. The Zaps secured the door behind them, leaving Rachel and DeVontay with the remains of the food.

DeVontay pointed at the plate in front of Rachel. His face was steeped in the shadows cast by her eyes. “You going to eat that?”

“You’re okay with mutant lizard meat?”

“I need to keep up my strength. If I turn into a werewolf, you have my permission to jab me in the heart with a wooden stake.”

“That’s for vampires. Werewolves get silver bullets.” She pushed the plate toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

“That Geneva’s a piece of work, isn’t she? I wonder how many other babies are in this town. I haven’t seen any.”

“My guess is she’s killed them all off and seized power. All in the name of the communal good, of course.”

“Well, we’re not sticking around to find out.”

“They’ve got cyber birds that kill on command, mysterious energy waves, and suits that are nearly indestructible. And we’re locked underground without any tools or weapons. You’re quite an optimist.”

“No, I’m a survivor. Just like you.”