The Earth is My Prison Page 15

I thought back to Moss’s shed, and the pamphlets I had seen there about “government super trees.”

  "Well, about that proof,” I said, “I think I can get it for you."

  ~

  Robert told me I should return to the Prison and bring back the pamphlet. He said no one would believe Rebecca until the Orchard was falling down around their ears and by then it would be too late. Going back would allow me to face my demons, he said. So that's the catch, I thought, to find the perfect place to live then have to leave.

  That night I lay in bed, going over things. After the meeting one of my Mom's old friends told me a story about her. Any man who tried to court her she would challenge to a race which she would always win. The only time she didn't was when the guy hid her legs before the race. That cunning bastard earned the right to be my Father.

  That was something at least. To have one more piece of the puzzle of who I was. With some of the burden of not knowing lifted I found it easier to sleep.

  As Tag slept so did Pvt. Kawalski. His dream program was running and he was having some beauties.

  In one he had a large bowl-like buttercup and was walking barefoot through a beautiful forest. He collected dew until the cup was full enough for him to drink. In another he was on the Battlefield. He was armed with a water pistol, people laughed instead of screamed when he shot them. In another he was on a beach. He peeled off his sticky bloodstained uniform and left it on the sand. Feeling cleansed he swam naked to the horizon.

  The sequence over, he groggily opened his eyes and checked his watch. Hmm. Still a few years till the next Effort. Enough time to get in another nap.

  8.

  Robert dropped me off in the same place the expedition had found me, in the middle of an old highway. I would go it alone. He gave me a compass and one of his crossbows. I headed due West.

  I was walked for nearly a day without passing anything I recognised. Rather than panic I decided to just keep going. I had a simple bedroll but with nothing to shelter under I slept only fitfully. By the second day I was in completely unfamiliar terrain and had to admit I was lost.

  I was relieved when I finally found some buildings, arranged in a strip mall dominated by a monolithic Swedish furniture store. The store had been the scene of some kind of battle. There were tanks improperly parked outside and the facade was graffitied with bullet holes.

  I went inside, hoping to find somewhere to rest.

  ~

  All the furniture had been destroyed by explosions and the bodies of uniformed soldiers and employees littered the floor. Something in the atmosphere made my skin tingle and my hair stand on end. A strange blue light emanated from the back of the store. My curiosity getting the better of me I put aside the mission and went to investigate.

  My limited scientific knowledge told me I was looking at a forcefield. It was dome-shaped and covered most of the back of the store. It was powered by a small Geo-Therma generator. The floor inside the forcefield was dusted in fine white powder and sitting in the middle, in a lotus posture, was a naked man.

  Upon hearing me approach he slowly opened his eyes, as if coming out of a trance.

  “Do you work here?” I asked.

  He smiled and slowly shook his head.

  "Who are you?"

  "If I said I was an angel who had fallen to earth, would you believe me?"

  He spoke like he hadn't said anything in a long time. I took a better look at him, his pale skin, his long limbs. His other-worldly, melodious voice…

  "You're a mutant."

  He nodded.

  So here I was, face to face with my childhood boogeyman. He looked like a final-stage cancer patient. He was so thin that I could clearly see every rib in his chest. His hair came in little white tufts, like candy floss.

  “You don’t look so good,” I said.

  It looked like it took him some effort to smile.

  "I know you've probably heard bad things about my people but I think it's only fair I tell our side of the story. Don't you?"

  Oh, sure, I thought, I'll just have a chat with my mortal enemy since birth.

  "Come on, I can't hurt you, I'm stuck here like a fly in a jar."

  He may have been a fly in a jar but I expected him to turn into a praying mantis at any moment. I had the crossbow Robert gave me at my side, though I didn’t know if it would have any effect.

  "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Chris."

  "My name is Jonah. Please, sit."

  I did, choosing a convenient chair. So much of what I had learned in the Prison was bullshit, I could hear him out at least.

  "What has you so afraid? What did they tell you about me?"

  "That you're all killers," I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed, "psychotic killers."

  "We are capable of violence, just as you are."

  "Did you kill these people?" I said, pointing to the fallen soldiers.

  "In self-defence. They had the last laugh, they trapped me here."

  "They must have been pretty afraid of you, that they couldn’t even finish you off."

  "Humans love an enemy tribe to rally against. I think that’s why you invented us. Do I have to remind you that genocide is a human occupation?"

  He had me there.

  "So,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “is it true you eat babies?"

  He grinned.

  "As far as the baby killing goes, your military was pretty good from what I remember. I saw Novus babies ripped from their Mother's arms when random screenings showed they had the wrong DNA."

  "Harsh."

  "Yes, it happened to my own children."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It was my fault, I was foolish...well, it's all over now."

  "If you're trying to convince me that human beings are terrible, there's no need. I know that already. I am one."

  He laughed though it caused him pain to do so.

  "What do you want from me?" I asked finally.

  "I want you to get me out of here."

  I shook my head. "I don't think I can do that."

  "Okay, you can go if you want. Just let me say one thing."

  I got up, getting ready to leave. If even one percent of what I had heard about the mutants was true, I would be putting everyone I loved in danger.

  "I'm the last of my race. My time is running out. There's a place I come from, called Salt Lake City. I want to go back there, to die."

  I looked at him. He looked so pathetic. Was I denying the last request of a dying man?

  My thoughts returned to the mission. I was halfway to the door when I heard:

  "Please, Chris, I don’t want to die a prisoner."

  That did it.

  "Okay, I said, what do you need me to do?"

  He let out a long sigh.

  “Do you see the keypad on the generator?”

  I saw it. “Do you know the code?” I asked.

  “I might. Try 4001.”

  I went over to the keypad and entered the code. It emitted a sad tone and flashed red.

  “Nope, not it.”

  “Thank you for doing this,” he said patiently, “try 4002.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Blurgh!

  “No."

  “Okay, one more try. Put in 4003.”

  “You're the boss.”

  I entered the first three numbers. I always got nervous with people watching me and I forgot the last digit.

  “Sorry, did you say 03 or 04?” I asked, turning to him.

  He was standing extremely close. Just the thin layer of forcefield energy separated us. The humanity had fallen from his face like a cheap Halloween mask. He looked at me like a dog looks at steak, long strands of drool hanging from his lips.

  “You people are so fucking stupid!” he bellowed. “You can't remember one Goddamn number!”

  He jumped wildly around inside the forcefield, hurling himself against the sides like a giant pinball, sending up plumes of the white dust. That's when I realised wh
at the dust was. It was furniture he had pulverised. I couldn't imagine the strength of it.

  “You made me. You made me,” he said, breathing heavily.

  I wanted to go home. I started backing away.

  “Stay, good dog,” he said, wiping away the spit.

  His words held me in place. They echoed through my mind like a drum.

  “4003. Enter it.”

  I felt something in my brain, like someone was rearranging the cells. Then I saw the number 4003 written on everything. The world haemorrhaged 4003s. My fingers went without my permission to the keypad and typed in the code. There was a “Bing!” A light flashed green and the forcefield came down.

  “Thank you, so very much.”

  9.

  He stretched out to his full length, letting out a groan. Standing, I could see he was easily 8 feet tall. I felt a rumble in my bowels. I took out my crossbow and fired. The bolt landed with a thud between his ribs. He registered the pain. Then tore out the bolt which clattered uselessly to the floor.

  He sat down and returned to his meditation pose. He took long slow breaths and the wound caused by the crossbow bolt healed, closing itself before my eyes. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

  "Trying to go medieval on my ass?" he said, laughing.

  I tried to run but my legs wouldn't obey. I may as well have been a tree. Jonah looked around the Ikea that had been his prison for so long.

  “Sad what happened to your race, isn’t it? First there was the Age of Wonder, then the Age of Reason and finally, the Age of Flatpack Furniture.”

  "I can't believe I trusted you," I said.

  "You trusted me because you're stupid. Your whole race is stupid. You'll believe anything as long as it comes attached to a story. Ohhh I'm the last of my race, ohhh I'm dying. Stupid."

  "So, you're not really dying?"

  He ran his hand absent-mindedly over his body as if checking he was still there.

  "Maybe. My cells don't feel that good. But I made a promise I wouldn't go without taking you all with me!"

  Maybe he had been sympathetic, before the long years of solitary, now he was clearly insane.

  "Look at your nice clothes. You come from people, don't you? Tell me where they are.”

  I had to obey him. But still there was a choice. I came from two places and I could choose which to give up. His command was a vice around my brain, squeezing and squeezing until I spoke the word:

  “Prison.”

  He cupped my skull in his hands.

  “Where?”

  I told him exactly, down to latitude and longitude. I hadn't known I'd known it.

  “I went that way. Why didn't I see it?”

  “The walls are reflective, makes it hard to see.”

  “Ahh.”

  He put me down so he could gloat with his hands free.

  “Good. I'm going to go there and kill every human I see. Tell me, are there any pregnant women?” He was drooling again.

  “I don't know.... probably.”

  “Good. That's good.”

  “They'll fight you.”

  “That’s okay. When you pull fruit from the tree it puts up the slightest resistance.”

  “You B-”

  “Quiet."

  I opened my mouth to protest but nothing came out.

  "Now, I need something for the road.”

  Extending his jaw, he took my right hand in his mouth and bit it off at the wrist. His mouth filled with my blood and I watched in disbelief as he swallowed what was left. Savage pain. Shock. And then the world went black.

  ~

  When I woke up I was bleeding to death. It felt unpleasant, like being inside a deflating balloon. Mentally, I was having a bad time thinking about all the people in the Prison that would die because of me. That would have to wait. I had to do something about my arm, it was spurting life juice all over a peach dining set.

  Despite the massive trauma, Jonah's command held and my feet were still cemented to the floor. I could still reach the generator. I placed my bloody stump in what I hoped was the right place and used my left to re-enter the access code. A sword of crackling energy descended, slicing off the lumpy end of my arm.

  There was a firework display of pain as nerve endings were singed into oblivion. Still I was no longer bleeding to death so that was good. I examined the cut, slightly at an angle, but not too bad. I passed out again.

  ~

  I awoke on a four foot divan. I had had a strange dream where a mutant had eaten my hand. I went to scratch my face, rubbing what felt like the end piece of a meatloaf against my cheek.

  I looked around. I didn't know how long I had been asleep but Jonah was nowhere to be seen. My compass lay on the floor, smashed and useless.

  I took a few moments to mourn the loss of my right hand. It had served me tirelessly for years. Wiping my ass, zipping my fly, and gently rubbing my legs when they were cold. At least I would no longer have to bear the shame of the second strike, I thought, laughing to myself.

  His suggestion had worn off, that I had reached the bed proved that. I looked around for weapons. There were guns but what was the point when he could command me to turn them on myself?

  I decided to explore the storeroom at the back of the store. Perhaps I would find a forklift I could use to drive into and impale him, the sound of the engine blocking out his suggestions. It was as good a plan as any.

  ~

  I turned on the warehouse lights (thank you Geo-Therma!) They flickered on, casting light on a grisly scene. A mountain of bodies, all dead from self-inflicted wounds and in various states of decay. That's a lot of combinations, I thought.

  10.

  I left the store, not knowing how I would find Jonah or what I would do if I did. I didn't even know which way the Prison was. Without a compass, I was lost. But I had told Jonah. If the knowledge was inside me then my instincts might be able to point the way.

  I picked a direction and started walking. It felt wrong so I changed. And kept changing until my gut relaxed. You idiot, I thought, there's no way this will work. Shut up, I thought, it will.

  ~

  I came to the Wasteland version of an Oasis. A stunted, irradiated palm tree hanging over a murky puddle of water. Lying in the pool was a huge pile of food and clothing. It was the Effort. It had been left to rot in the sun.

  Lying next to the pool, reading a paperback book, his khaki hat shielding his eyes from the sun, was Pvt. Kawalski, Saviour of the Prison. The book was Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. Because of Jonah’s command I couldn't speak, so I waved my stump to get his attention.

  Fighting my shock at meeting him, I pointed to the pile of stuff that I and the other prisoners had slaved over and used the universal signal of "What the Fuck?" He put his book down and gave me a bashful look.

  "There was no one left to give it to,” he said, “I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

  Though I knew he was an android, the imitation of an Aw Shucks Mid-Western boy was very convincing

  I felt sadness for my wasted life, then realising I did not have the luxury of feelings at that moment, I took up a stick and began drawing on the ground.

  I drew a little man (me) with no hand, and a demonic Jonah leering over him.

  “A Novus did this?”

  I nodded emphatically.

  I drew an arrow and a square of bars to represent the prison.

  Kawalski stood to attention. The cornfed Iowa boy replaced by the US made killing machine.

  “And you say it's headed towards the Prison?”

  I drew a picture of a tank, the one I had seen by the prison.

  "Too slow," he said and kneeled down, offering me a piggyback ride. I got up on his back, my good arm around his neck.

  "Hold on," he said.

  ~

  It was like riding a motorbike with arms. The Private's legs were a Khaki blur. I had to duck behind his head to stop bugs getting in my teeth. At this rate we would reach the Prison in no tim
e. I just didn't know what we would do when we got there.

  11.

  Once in range of the Prison we took cover behind the tank. Jonah had gotten there before us but hadn't yet found the Prison. I looked at Kawalski, hoping for a plan of action.

  “Kill the Novus,” he said.

  I gave him a thumbs up.

  He got that sheepish look again.

  “I've never actually engaged one on my own. Only as part of a squad.”

  My confidence in him dropped drastically but I tried not to let it show. I pointed at myself and held up my hands: "what about me?"

  “An untrained human, in a battle with a Novus, has a 0.1% chance of survival.”

  I patted him on the back to wish him luck and shrank further into my hiding place. I watched the whole thing play out from behind the tank. I had never been patriotic, but when I saw Kawalski go into battle, I heard eagles caw.

  When Jonah saw Kawalski coming he spread his arms wide like he was greeting an old friend. Kawalski attacked, doing some kung-fu moves and moving like a blur.

  I believe Kawalski was sentient, if he hadn't been when he was commissioned then he learned it over time. But still there was something inherently predictable about the way he fought and it didn't take Jonah long to figure him out.

  Jonah was smiling. He was playing with his prey, dancing around Kawalski with the robot unable to land a single blow. The Pvt. compensated by using more power but that just left him more open. Jonah, bored with the game, started ripping chunks out of him.

  I had to look away. What could I do? I could run away, back to the Orchard. But I couldn’t. Fuck it, I would have to die.

  Kawalski was down. Twitching on the ground like an air-drowned fish. Jonah was standing over him, holding his spine aloft, a dripping trophy. He had been strong, he had been brave. He had still lost.

  The robot had gotten in some good digs, including a large gouge in Jonah's chest. The mutant sat down in his meditation pose, closing his eyes. The scars were healing quickly, I would not have long. I went to Kawalski's side.

  To my dismay I could see he was still alive and was trying in vain to repair himself. He was using a soldering needle to patch himself up but without his spine the messages weren't travelling and his hands shook uselessly. He saw me leaning over him.