Hunger (The Hunger Series Book 1) (12 page)

21

Anne pushed on the church’s metal front door. The green paint still looked new, and the white-painted wood around it hadn’t yet started to show signs of chipping. She slipped inside, pursued by yet another trumpet blast from the Echo. Part of her felt guilty for fleeing into the church while the others faced the creature, but she knew there was nothing she could do to help, and that one way or the other, she had to determine whether the building was safe. So while the others struggled with the Echo, she stepped into the dim foyer and let the door close behind her.

She glanced back at the window beside the door, seeing movement through the sheer shade, but she didn’t move toward it. She hoped they survived, but if they didn’t, she didn’t want to see it. The prospect of living without them horrified her, but her mother had been preparing her for that potential fate for months. After all, she was important. She had to survive.

“Even if it means leaving you behind?” she’d asked Ella two months ago.

Her mother had put her hands on Anne’s cheeks, fire in her eyes. “If things look bad, you leave me behind. No goodbyes. No tears. You have to be strong. If I survive, I’ll find you. If not, you know what to do.”

And she did know what to do, but that didn’t make it easy. Since that time, they had had several close calls, but nothing like this, nothing leading her to take her mother’s advice and leave her behind. Not that she was going far, but she was acutely aware that her mother was facing death outside, while she was safe inside the church.

But how safe was she?

If the others died, would the Echo come for her? Would it remember seeing her enter the church?

Be brave,
she told herself.
Be smart. Find someplace secure. Someplace to hide. For everyone. They’re going to survive. They have to.

The sunlight streaking through the foyer windows cast her shadow on the thin, blue industrial carpet, while revealing swirls of dust kicked up by her entrance. Two separate double doors blocked the way ahead. To the left was a winding staircase leading up and down. And to the right, men and women’s bathrooms.

The basement was her goal, and her eyes lingered on the steps leading down, but heading down there before checking the rest of the church could be a deadly mistake. ‘Know your surroundings first,’ her mother had taught her. ‘Then settle in. Even if you’re wounded. Sleeping in a predator’s den is a quick way to die.’

So she checked the bathrooms first, ignoring the muffled trumpet blast outside. She opened the doors a crack, peeking inside. Both were immaculate, smelling faintly of ancient sanitary chemicals. She moved to the double doors next, pushing through into a wide open sanctuary. Two rows of long wooden pews separated by an aisle stretched down the room to a small stage. There was no podium, but there was a collection of dusty musical instruments and microphone stands.

She moved silently over the ruby red rug lining the aisle. She’d never been in a church before, and she knew very little about the concept of God taught in them. She knew her mother staunchly opposed any kind of religion, though, so she moved to the back of the room without any kind of emotional response besides fearing what might lurk behind the next door, which was to the left of the stage.

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob.
Please be empty
. The knob spun without a sound, but a sudden thunderous roar made her jump, yanking her hand back. It took a moment for her to recognize the sound. Gunfire. A lot of it. And loud. The machine gun on the truck.

They killed it,
she thought. The Echo was certainly dead, but who was left alive? Spurred by the question, she shoved the door open and found an empty office lined with shelves of thick books. The only decoration on the wall was a framed poster of footprints in the sand. A heavy wooden desk held a lone book, left open.

Glancing back at the sanctuary, she stepped inside the room and looked at the book. At the top of the page, it said LUKE. She recognized the book as the one her mother always read, but never let her look at. The forbidden fruit nearly proved too much to resist. She wanted to read that book, mostly because her mother didn’t want her to, but it could wait. She retreated from the office and ran back through the sanctuary.

Back in the foyer, she shoved the front door open and was relieved to see a dead Echo and her mother alive—Jakob and Peter, too. “The first floor is clear,” she shouted to the group. “C’mon!”

She ducked back inside the foyer, once again on the lookout for trouble inside the building. But knowing she’d soon have company, she waited. Jakob arrived two minutes later, a box in his hands full of supplies, including a small propane stove. “As much as I like hot food,” she said, “heating it up makes it smell stronger. Attracts attention.”

“Right,” The boy said, looking a little shell shocked and dejected. “No more hot food. Great.”

“Haven’t been outside much?” she asked.

“Try not at all.”

Anne felt simultaneously sorry for and envious of Jakob. He’d lived in safety for the past two years, but it had left him unprepared for life outside, where ExoGenetic predators lurked. “Life out here, on the run, it sucks. But you’ll get used to it.”

“If I don’t get us killed first,” he said.

“Hey.” She gripped his arm hard, garnering his unwavering attention. “You got us away from the Stalkers and avoided hitting that Swine. That wasn’t easy. I couldn’t have done it, and I doubt my mother could have, either.
And
you just saved both our parents. Killed an Apex on your first try. So you don’t know all the tricks of surviving out here. Big deal. I do.”

He grinned. “You going to teach me?”

“Everything I know,” she said. “Well, not everything. You’re not
that
smart.”

Jakob laughed. “Okay, kid. So tell me, what next?”

She looked at the ceiling. “Next we clear the second floor. And then the basement.”

“Lead the way, Master Yoda.”

“Master who?” she asked.

Jakob looked as confused as Anne felt, but answered, “
Star Wars
. It’s a movie. A bunch of movies. But I guess you’re too young to remember. Or something.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Or something. I’ve never even seen a movie.”

“Geez. Well, that sucks. Of course, there isn’t much that
doesn’t
suck anymore. But still...no
Star Wars
?” Jakob said, heading for the stairs, taking the lead after all. “So, what should I look for? To clear the floor? Aside from things trying to eat my face, I mean.”

“Best way to tell if you’re not alone is smell, especially in a place like this, which is pretty much odor-free. If you smell anything animal, fecal or earthy, you’re probably not alone.”

Jakob started up the rugged stairs. “Fecal, huh?”

“Shit,” she said.

“I know what it is. It’s just a weird way for a twelve year old to say it.” Jakob paused on the top step, looking into a hallway with two doors on the right side. Large windows lined the walls, giving them clear views of the nursery and the Sunday School rooms that were conjoined by a doorway. Despite being empty, Jakob led the way inside the Sunday School room. Anne followed him in, taking in the array of brightly colored objects that she knew were designed for children, but with which she had no experience. A round table sat in the middle of the floor. Small chairs surrounded it. A large picture of a wooden boat, full of animals was tacked to the wall. A man stood on the boat, holding a dove that clutched a small green plant in its mouth. The man was smiling. A rainbow arched up over the scene. In each line of the rainbow were words. She read them aloud. “Never again will I punish the Earth for the sinful things its people do. All of them have evil thoughts from the time they are young, but I will never destroy everything that breathes, as I did this time. As long as the Earth remains, there will be planting and harvest, cold and heat; winter and summer, day and night.”

“Well,” Jakob said, standing at the window looking out at the road. “He got the planting and harvest part right. Not so much with not destroying everything.”

“Who did?” she asked.

“God.”

“Was he a teacher?”

Jakob chuckled. “Some people think so. Part of him, anyway. But for this story, God is the...guy or whatever, who created the Earth. The whole universe. And everyone in it.”

“God didn’t make me. I came from my mother” Anne said, revolted by the idea that some strange person might have made her. Someone who had once destroyed ‘everything that breathes.’ “But...if it
were
true, then you’d be wrong to blame him for killing everyone this time. My mother did that, too.”

“I suppose,” Jakob said, and he opened the window’s curtain a little further. “What are they doing?”

Anne joined him at the window. Their parents knelt by the road, rubbing dirt over their bodies. “Hiding their scent. Don’t worry, they’ll bring some dirt for us, too.”

Jakob shook his head. “Never had any doubt.”

Anne sensed he was about to leave. “Is your father a nice man?”

“Nicest I know,” Jakob said with a smirk, then added, “But yeah, he’s a good guy. Trustworthy.”

“Are you sure?” Anne asked.

Jakob turned from the window, looking at Anne. “Why?”

“Just want to be sure my mother chose the right person.”

“For what?”

Anne was quiet for a moment. She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. It was complicated. There were layers. Too many. So she said, “Look at them.”

Outside the window, framed by an armored Dodge Ram and a dead ExoGenetic Apex predator, Ella rubbed dirt on Peter’s cheek. Her hands moved in gentle circles while the pair stared into each other’s eyes.

“I think they were good friends,” Anne said. “From before.”

“Yeah,” Jakob said, stepping away from the window and heading for the door. “I think they were, too.”

She stopped him in the door by asking, “Maybe we can be friends?”

Jakob smiled back at her. “I think we already are. But not like them.”

Anne looked back out the window. The affection her mother felt for Jakob’s father was clear, and as far as she was concerned, unfounded, whether or not they had been friends before. She’d never spoken of him. He couldn’t be that important. “Definitely not.”

“C’mon,” Jakob said. “Let’s go check downstairs, cover ourselves in dirt and spend the night cowering in a basement.”

Anne let the curtain fall back into place, sighed and said, “If we’re lucky.”

22

Peter took first watch. He sat alone in the Sunday School room overlooking what should have been a parking lot, but was just an endless field of moonlit cabbage. The plants took on a dark blue hue at night, visible, but distorted by shadow, like ocean waves frozen in place. He could see the truck beyond, parked in the middle of the road, light from the half moon glinting off the side mirror. The dead Echo was a dark silhouette, blotting out a part of the field, the details of its demise concealed by the darkness.

How did it come to this?
he wondered.

He knew the answer. Understood the science and the sequence of events that had led to disaster. The reality that was the world was old news. What he couldn’t fathom was how the people in charge, at ExoGen and in the Government, had missed the gene-altering capabilities of RC-714. Even more, he didn’t understand how Ella had missed it.

Never had.

She was smarter than that. But she was also ambitious. But not selfishly so. As long as he’d known her, she’d been concerned about starving people.
Feeding the hungry masses had always been a pipe dream for you, Ella
. But then she grew up and saw a path to eradicating hunger, through genetics. It was a noble cause, but in the end, it had blinded her.

That was what he told himself, because the alternative, that she had knowingly released the gene-altering crops that resulted in the destruction of mankind, was unthinkable. And yet, someone had known. Someone had loaded that gun and pulled the trigger with the same lethal intent of a firing squad.

“Wine still make you sleepy?” Ella asked from the doorway.

Peter’s heart slammed against his chest, but he managed to hide how badly she’d startled him. She was lucky he hadn’t spun around and shot her.

“It does,” he confessed.

She stepped into the dull moonlight filtering through the window. Like him, she was covered in grime, bits and pieces of soil clinging to her body. She smelled of earth and the outdoors. It wasn’t unpleasant, at least not to a farmer. Good dirt meant life, or at least it used to.

Ella lifted an open bottle of wine and poured the dark liquid into a plastic cup. “Found it in the kitchen. The canned food is too new to eat, but the wine is from 2000.” She finished pouring and turned the bottle around so he could see the vintage on the label.

“Old school communion,” Peter said, taking the cup. “I thought only Catholics did that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ella said.

Peter placed the cup on the short, round table without taking a drink. “I can’t drink it, though.”

“It’s 2:00 am,” she said. “I’ve got second watch. Anne will take over at five.”

“
Anne
is going to keep watch?” Peter’s surprise was impossible to hide. The kid was twelve years old. How could she have the discipline to stay awake while the sun was still down? He wouldn’t trust Jakob with the job. The boy could fall asleep standing up.

“It’s been just the two of us for a long time,” Ella said. “We’re used to splitting the night watch fifty-fifty, so this is a treat.”

When Peter didn’t look convinced, Ella put her hand on his shoulder. The touch sent his stomach swirling.
Knock it off,
he told himself.
Stay focused. She might not be the person you remember, or even the person you thought she was.

“I checked the doors. Still locked. Still barricaded. Nothing is getting inside. At least not without making a hell of a lot of noise and getting a face full of shotgun.” She hoisted the shotgun off her shoulder and leaned it against the wall beneath the window. Her small frame, silhouetted by the moonlight, looked fragile. In need of protection. But that wasn’t the case. Not at all. She was a stronger person than he’d have ever believed. And capable of more than he could imagine.

“Did you know?” he asked.

She turned toward him. “Know what?”

“What RC-714 would do to the human race.”

He couldn’t see her frown, but something in her silhouetted body language got the message across. “I warned you about it.”

“Before then,” he said. “Before it was released.”

“
What?
”

The sudden swell of anger made Peter lean back, but he took it as a good sign.

“You think I knowingly released this hell on the world? Peter, you know me. You know—”

“I
knew
you,” he said. “You’re different.”

“I’ve been fighting for my life. For my, for
our
, daughter’s life. You don’t think I’d rather be tucked away in a lab? Why would I choose this life for anyone? I wanted to save the world, not kill it.” She turned away from him. “When did you become an asshole?”

Peter picked up the cup of wine and stood beside Ella. He looked out the window for a moment, took a sip of wine and let their emotions settle. “Here’s the thing. Someone knew what would happen. Probably several someones. You might have missed it, and I really hope that’s the case—that you wanted to feed the world so badly that you made a mistake. I’m willing to believe that because...I think I still know you. But someone knew. Someone at ExoGen. Someone still alive in San Francisco.”

Silence returned as the pair kept watch.

After several minutes, Ella took a swig from the wine bottle. “Doesn’t make me sleepy. A slut, maybe, but not sleepy.”

Peter said nothing. His silence kept the conversation from being derailed.

“I didn’t know,” she said again, “but you’re right.”

Despite being confident in his assessment, Peter still felt surprised. He turned his head toward her. She stared out the window, her face cast in pale blue light.

“I don’t know how many of them knew,” she said, “but it’s likely most of the board knew...the government liaisons, some of the security staff. Phil McKay, the CEO...he knew, for sure. The rest is speculation. I figured it out eventually. It was stupid, really.” She shook her head, exasperated by what she was about to reveal. “I was in an elevator at the ExoGen bio-dome. I was alone. And bored. So I read the old, out-of-date inspection certificate left on the elevator wall. I read it three times before a detail jumped out. The certificate was dated just five months after we discovered RC-714. Just two months after it had been released into the world.”

“So the ExoGen bio-dome hadn’t been built in response to the global metamorphosis—”

“Or even my discovery of what consuming RC-714 would eventually lead to, a month after that.”

“It was built in preparation for it,” Peter concluded.

“That’s what I realized, too.”

“Did you talk to anyone about it?”

She huffed out a laugh. “The atmosphere in the facility is...oppressive. Strict rules. Anyone breaking rules or causing problems is sent outside. If they survive a week, they can come back. No one ever came back. But once I knew, I began to see the course of events in reverse, and I understood. The development and release of RC-714 was a genocidal attack. A purge.

“It’s why I started looking for a way to undo the damage done. It’s why I left.”

“But you weren’t alone,” Peter said.

“I told people I trusted, and over time, we developed an escape plan.”

Peter felt dubious. “Including a cross-country trek to a lab on George’s Island?”

“I didn’t say it was a good plan, but it was only a matter of time before they found out and cast us out, unprepared. When we left, we had survival gear, weapons, even protection.”

“From Ed?”

“And others,” she said. “The point is, when we left...when we escaped, we thought we were prepared for what we’d find. But none of us knew the changes that... Traits observed two years ago continued to evolve. We were prepared for predators, not...what we found.”

“The Stalkers.”

She shook her head. “There were others before the Stalkers. Apex predators. Other Betas. Packs of horrible things. The Stalkers were the worst though.”

“And the Echo?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” she confessed. “Thank God there was just one of them.”

“How many are there?” he asked. “How many new species?”

“There’s no way to know, but there’s one thing I’m sure of; while the overall population of life on Earth has dropped significantly, the biodiversity of what is left, is at an all-time high. Take two of the same animal species, separated by just a few miles, give them a year and some ExoGenetic food, and you’ll have two totally different sets of adaptations. A dog living in the desert might adapt camel-like humps to retain water, while a dog living in the forest might develop hooked claws and larger pectoral muscles for climbing trees. Adaptation has been super-charged, and creatures are changing every day. In another year, I’m not sure we’ll even be able to tell what species the ExoGens started out as.”

“But you can undo it, right?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “We can’t change people back into people. But we can keep future generations from changing. The ExoGenetic crops can still feed the planet.”

Peter spoke quietly. The shadows outside were moving now. “I’m not sure that more genetic tinkering is the solution.”

“I see them,” Ella said, whispering, and then continued the conversation. “Altering humanity’s genetic code is the
only
solution. Humanity can make a comeback, but we’re going to have to fight for it. And to fight, we have to be fed. You’ll learn that in the next few weeks.”

Peter wanted to argue the point, but the sound of crunching bones announced the arrival of predators and the start of a feast. His belly growled.

Maybe she’s right,
he thought, and he put down the wine glass. Death waited for them just outside the church. Sleep could wait.