Merritts of Writing 3

Chapter 19

Emmalee

In the space of a few minutes my life changed. Those minutes seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a lot of ways they were. Seven years when you were only nineteen was almost a third of your life.

The possibility of the next seven years was giving me plenty of cause to pause.

AS TIME TICKED BY

Everyone settled down. Barty’s-a-shit’s hushed words as he talked to Donahue lulled me into a light doze. Time passed.

‘Wake up, up, up!’

The voice jarred me. Pain ripped through my side. I put a hand to myself and felt at the bandage still taped underneath my shirt. My fingers came away wet. I put my palm against my side. More wetness.

‘No more sleep, sleep, sleep!’

Jake’s voice screaming at me in my head had me feeling dizzy. I took a deep breath and felt someone to my right shift their weight.

Jake?

‘You have to be faster, faster, faster. For Char has the answers, answers, answers.’

I shook my head. I was confused. What? What answers?

The weight of the person’s body shifted again. I once again felt a push of energy. The same energy I’d felt every time Barty’s-a-shit touched me. This time though, the energy definitely had an impatient violent edge to it. Jake’s voice immediately vanished.

I wet my lips. I smelled the familiar scent of leather and sweat. I had been sleeping with my head against Barty’s-a-shit’s shoulder. I recoiled and pushed myself into a seated position.

“Em, you’re bleeding.”

“Not badly,” I answered my brother. “I think I ripped a stitch open.”

“Let me take a look,” Donahue’s voice held concern.

I felt Barty’s-a-shit move away. Donahue’s hands gentle and strong eased me back. He placed his hand behind my head and then lifted the bottom edge of my shirt up. I heard the tearing of tape and felt the slight burn as the gash in my side was exposed to the air.

“More than a few, but it doesn’t look bad and the bleeding has already stop.”

I felt the bandage come across my wound and the gentle pressure of Donahue refastening the tape to my skin.

“Try not to move around so much. We’re out of medical supplies. Jam, how are you doing?”

“Hanging in. I hope we stop soon. I need to take a leak.”

Donahue laughed. “Don’t we all.”

“Would your people have attacked us?” Verena’s voice suddenly asked.

I knew the question must be directed at Char. Verena had finally voiced what was on all our minds. Were we in danger because of the rumours? And as Char had hinted, would the villagers really come after us as a reprise for the Doorcou attack?

Char’s voice sounded muffled and slurred. “Jonah feared there might be a backlash. Given most had just lost their entire families he had no doubt, if someone started to take a closer look at your crew, they would start assigning blame.”

“Even after we helped them?” Calvin’s voice was incredulous. “We used up all our medical supplies in order to save lives.”

“Lives you could have very well put at risk.”

Once again Dirk took exception to Char’s words. “Screw you. Is it our fault that the Larcore are crazy?”

“The Larcore are far from crazy. Their intelligence is superior to most creatures and easily matches ours. They were created for efficiency and stealth. If you or anyone else thinks otherwise, you’re fools.”

I sucked in a breath as Dirk growled.

“Char, don’t be an idiot.” I heard Donahue quickly warn. “I won’t waste Carter’s efforts in sewing you up again.”

“Look,” Char said and I could hear his placating tone. “The Larcore believe the rumours. They’ve enlisted the Doorcou. There’s no doubt that they’ll do whatever it takes to obliterate any hint that the rumour actually exists.”

I heard Jam inhale a sharp breath. Had he just realized like I had, that we were all in deep shit?

“What’s in it for the Doorcou?” I questioned. “The Doorcou are slow witted but they’re not without intelligence. The Larcore are not strong enough to force the Doorcou into submission.”

“My guess is that they’ve promised them control of the fyre egg processing plants,” he answered me. “They are after all a very lucrative enterprise.”

I heard Calvin gasp and then burst into a bout of coughing.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jam refuted. “The only way the Doorcou could take control of the plants is to attack them and that would defeat the purpose. The eggs are fragile and besides they hatch quickly. And believe me, there would be plenty of resistance among the salvage crews. No crews, no eggs.”

“Then it’s a win win situation for the Larcore.”

“How is that good for the Larcore?” Verena questioned Char’s analogy. “They’d be destroying their own food source. It’s in their best interest that the fyre eggs hatch and the fyre wings be set free.”

“Who says they’re basing their actions on logic?” Barty’s-a-shit said, entering into the conversation.

“You’re right,” Char acknowledged. “The Larcore are going on instinct, and instinct is telling them to destroy all tentacles that lead to the rumour.”

“That’s if this so called rumour is even true.” Dirk snorted.

“Don’t start, Dirk,” Donahue cut in. “Char’s not the only person we’ve heard mention the rumour. There’s been talk for weeks. Something is stirring the underbelly of our world. We can’t discount anything.”

“The rumour is too complex,” Calvin, finally over his coughing fit, voiced.

“He’s right,” Verena said, “no one can be what the rumour says.”

“Why not? For all we know there is someone out there, right now. Maybe even an unborn child.”

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. Did Char actually believe that somehow some woman had conceived?

On the day the canisters fell pregnant women died. And of those babies that were born none survived more than a few hours after birth. Not even those that had been taken from their mother’s womb in surgery. In the seven years since, as far as I knew, there had not been a single birth.

“Is that even possible?” I croaked. “A child?”

“Who’s to say,” Char answered. “Seven years have past. Maybe somewhere out there, there are children. Hey, you’re some kind of doctor, you tell me, Foresite.”

I heard Calvin mumble something and then louder he said. “I’m a scientist, not a medical doctor. I don’t know about how the canisters effected people.”

This time I held my shock. Dr. Calvin Foresite had just lied.

No one was more interested in documenting and charting the canister effects than Calvin. Since the canisters had rendered him unable to retain information or even the ability to write, I had been helping him map out each and every variance of the changes in people we’d come across. Calvin must not have trusted Char anymore than the rest of us.

The truck slowed and then came to a stop. Seconds later I heard the truck’s door open.

Stevron spoke. “We’ll stop here for a while. I think it’s safe now to remove the tape from Ragtop’s jaw, Em.”

“I’d watch myself around the dog, Char.” I heard my sister snarl. “He doesn’t take to strangers.”

“Carter?” Stevron spoke again. “I need to talk to you.”