The Individuality Gene Page 15

  “I have great news.”

  Jonn scoffs.

  “Sure you do.”

  He stands and begins the long journey to the stone tunnels where we will spend the remainder of our day.

  “I found Kara,” I say.

  Jonn stops walking and turns around. He’s smiling.

  “How? Where? When? W—”

  I silence him with a placating gesture. I then explain the specifics of the previous day’s events as we make our way across the forest. Jonn doesn’t interrupt once, which is unusual. I guess the good news was enough to pacify him. But that all changes when I reveal the true origins of the meat paste.

  “I ate humans?” he croaks.

  His horror-stricken expression is so exaggerated it’s comical, but I resist the urge to laugh.

  “They were clones,” I point out.

  “How is that better?”

  I shrug. I can’t blame him for being upset. I can only imagine how repulsed I would be where I to learn such a thing. But that would never happen. Now more than ever, I’m grateful for my vegetarianism.

  I continue the story until Jonn is up to date and end my speech by informing him we’re supposed to meet Kara and A’lara after our shift.

  “How’s your wrist?” I ask. “Can handle the swim?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Jonn glares at me, and I decide not to insist.

  We spend the next few minutes in silence. We eventually reach the front of the crowd and are assigned to a mining team. Soon after, we’re travelling into the tunnels that riddle the cavern walls.

  The first half of the workday unfolds without incident. Jonn seems to be favouring his injured wrist, but I can’t tell whether it still hurts or if he’s just sparing it undue stress. By lunchtime, we have gathered a grand total of three ‘tals, which is a new low for us. I would be upset if I not for the fact that low yields make me feel as though we’re somehow getting back at the Kra’lors for what they have done to the humans. But I forget all about that when lunch is served, and Jonn pukes at the sight of the meat paste. Were the roles reversed, he wouldn’t hesitate to make fun of me, but I’ve grown past my dislike of him. Jonn is like a father to me, and the last thing I want is make fun of him.

  The afternoon is just as uneventful as the morning. Well, almost. I unearth my first crystal of the day. I bend down to pick it up and notice the protective pouch is pierced. I try to keep the thick liquid from pouring out, but the sack is empty by the time I reach the mining cart. Ripping the protective skin, I place the bare crystal into the cart and get back to work.

  The remainder of the day unfolds without incident. After what feels like a surprisingly short amount of time—courtesy of the beautiful, and oh-so-distracting, mental image I have of Kara—the end-of-day alarm sounds.

  “Finally,” groans Jonn. “I thought this day would never end.”

  “Really?” I say as I approach the wagon and place my pickaxe into it. “I didn’t notice.”

  Jonn frowns but says nothing. He chucks his pickaxe into the wagon and leans against it. I’m about to do the same when I notice my coworkers struggling with the mining cart. It’s lighter than usual as we failed to collect more than a few ‘tals, but they’re so weak they can barely support the weight of the cart.

  “Let me give you a…” I begin, but the rest of the offer dies in my throat when one of the men trips. The cart slips from his hands and falls to the ground. Reacting with surprising speed given his previously slow movements, the other man dives away from the cart just as its contents spill onto the floor. The protected ‘tals roll around harmlessly, but the one I unearthed bounces a short distance before colliding with a rock.

  The crystal explodes. Flames, stone fragments, and hot air blossom from the impact site and swallow the fallen man. Dust fills the air as she shockwave of kinetic energy slams into me and robs me of my ability to hear. I stagger backward but remain upright. At least until the blast compromises the neighbouring crystals’ protective pouches and a series of explosions fill the air.

  The combined energy of the exploding ros’tal crystals sends me flying. I slam into the wagon, and pain explodes from my left side. I slide to the ground, stunned and disoriented. I remain there for a while, struggling to recover from the explosion.

  My senses slowly return. My pupils focus, revealing a dust-filled world. My eardrums recover, yet the silence persists. I try to stand, but my legs are so weak I can’t seem to right myself. I keep struggling until an arm emerges from the dust and yanks me to my feet. Moments later, a face appears.

  It’s Jonn.

  “Are you all right?” he asks. He appears to be yelling, but I can barely make out the words he speaks. I guess my hearing is still compromised. But I forget all about that when the ground shudders and a pained shriek fills the air.

  I try to locate the source of the cry but fail. Not that it matters. The ground now shakes with increased vigour. I also hear a faint cracking sound, but my confused mind fails to identify it in time. It’s not until a stone fragment slams into the ground next to me that I understand what’s happening.

  The tunnel is collapsing.

  Memory 28

  I t’s complete chaos. Dust fills the air, making the mere act of breathing a chore. The ground convulses beneath our feet, threatening to swallow us at any moment. The ceiling is coming apart, releasing large stone fragments that rain down all around us.

  “We need to get out of here!” yells Jonn.

  I nod and scan our surroundings, but all I see is dust.

  “Which way?” I yell back.

  Jonn looks around, but like me, he’s unable to locate an egress route.

  We stand there for a while, unable to get our bearings, before the dust finally starts to settle. By then, the trembling has ceased, and the need for escape has passed, so I remain planted in place as revelations wash over me.

  The first conclusion I come to is that ros’tal crystals are highly volatile. The protective pouches that encircle them now make sense. Without them, the mines would have exploded long ago. Truth be told, it’s a miracle incidents such as this one don’t occur more often.

  My second realization relates to the events that unfolded a week ago. At the time, I didn’t understand why my coworkers assaulted me when I tried throwing a ‘tal at the sentinel that was attacking Jonn, but given what I now know, their behaviour makes perfect sense. They weren’t protecting the automaton. They were protecting themselves.

  I got lucky, both then and now. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for everyone. More and more of my surroundings are revealed as the dust settles. The man nearest the cart is dead. The other two are injured. The rokk, no doubt scared off by the explosion, is nowhere to be seen. As for our mining equipment, it’s scattered throughout the tunnel in bits and pieces. The only detail that remains unchanged is the sentinel. It just stands there, its glowing eyes scanning the tunnel.

  I remain frozen for a while before Jonn approaches the nearest man and checks on him.

  “How is he?” I ask.

  “He’s dying. Check the other.”

  I approach the second man. He’s covered in a thick layer of dust, and his arm appears to be broken, but he should survive. I make sure he’s all right, then join my friend.

  “How is he doing?” I ask, eyeing the bloodied man that lies before the grey-haired soldier.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s going to die unless we get him immediate medical attention.”

  A heavy silence follows the revelation.

  “Can we carry him?” I ask, eyeing the man’s broken body.

  Jonn shakes his head. “We need the wagon.” He looks around, and a frown appears on his brow. “Where is it?”

  “The rokk got spooked by the explosion,” I say. “It ran off.”

  Jonn swears, but his defeat is only momentary.

  “Stay with him,” he says, gesturing to the injured man. “I’ll get
the wagon.” He heads off, but only makes it a short distance before the sentinel blocks his path. Jonn tries to get around it, but the robot pushes him back and aims a glowing palm at him.

  “Move!” commands my hulking companion. When that fails, he takes a more diplomatic approach. “He’s going to die unless we get him out of here,” he says, pointing at the broken man. “I’m going to get the wagon.”

  The sentinel steps aside and gestures for Jonn to proceed.

  I’m taken aback. I assumed the sentinels were incapable of vocal communication. While their ability to speak remains uncertain, they seem quite adept at understanding us, which means Jonn and I will need to be more careful when discussing our plans.

  I stare at my friend until he vanishes around a bend. My attention then returns to the injured man that lies before me. His right leg is broken in two places, and blood oozes from a gash in his forehead, but the worst wound of all is the large crater that lies where his stomach used to be. One look is all it takes to reveal Jonn was wrong. This man can’t be saved.

  He’s going to die.

  I stare at him, unsure what do to. Should I comfort him and pretend like everything is all right, or should I tell him the truth and allow him to prepare for his inevitable demise? In the end, the burden of choice is taken from me.

  “Am I… dying?” croaks the man, reaching out to me with a trembling hand.

  “No,” I say without thinking. “You had an accident, but you’ll make a full recovery.”

  The man smiles. He tries to lift his head, but his neck won’t respond. His eyes grow wide with panic.

  “Relax,” I say. “Everything will be all right.”

  He stops struggling and smiles.

  “Th-Thank… you.”

  “For what?”

  “For… lying,” he whispers. “I know… I’m… I’m dying.”

  I don’t know what to say. By the time I think of something, the man’s eyes are closed, and his tremors have ceased. For a brief moment I think he’s dead, but then a raspy gurgle erupts from his throat, and his eyes fly.

  “Where am I?” he asks.

  “You’re safe,” I say, squeezing his hand. He responds with a faint smile, then passes out once more. This happens a few more times before he falls into a coma. He’s still alive, but I don’t know how much longer he will survive.

  It takes a while, but Jonn finally returns at the helm of the wagon. The rokk pulling it seems reticent to approach the site of the explosion, but my friend urges it forward. Finally, the woolly rhinoceros slows to a stop, and Jonn hops off.

  “How is he?” he asks.

  “Unconscious,” I say. I don’t bother mentioning the fact that he won’t survive.

  “Give me a hand,” says Jonn as he unharnesses the rokk. Together, we struggle to pivot the wagon so it’s facing the other way. It’s not easy, but we manage it with the help of the sentinel. Soon, we’re ready to depart.

  Jonn rushes to the dying man’s side while I guide our other teammate to the wagon. Getting him on board isn’t easy because of his broken arm, but I manage it in time to help Jonn lift the unconscious man into the wagon. It’s not until we’re all on board that I allow myself to believe we may actually make it. Of course, that’s when I notice the raindrops.

  The revelation takes me by surprise. How can it rain underground? It makes no sense. Unless…

  A feeling of déjà vu overwhelms me and draws my gaze to the nearby wall. The sight of the cracks that riddle it reminds me of my first mining experience. Water spews from them in geysers of frothy liquid. Unlike the last time, I now know where the water comes from, but that does little to assuage the fear that grips me. I stare, wide-eyed, as the sentinel approaches the fracturing wall. Palms outstretched, it blasts the stone with blinding beams of yellow energy. Rock melts and fissures are sealed, but for each one that closes, two more appear.

  The robot is fighting a losing battle.

  “We have to go,” I tell Jonn.

  My friend nods and lunges forward. Grabbing the reigns, he flicks them and yells for the rokk to advance. Moments later, we’re on our way.

  I glance over my shoulder just as the wall explodes. A tidal wave of water and stone fragments blasts forward and swallows the sentinel. Soon, all that remains is a faint yellow glow. Then, that too vanishes and all I can see is the advancing wall of water. Within seconds, it will be upon us.

  Memory 29

  T he water rushes forward. For each centimetre gained, a little more of my optimism is taken away. By the time the wall of water fills my entire vision, all hopes of survival are gone.

  I close my eyes and wait for the end. Droplets pepper my face. The sound of rushing water fills my ears. The displaced air ruffles my hair.

  Why is it taking so long? When last I saw it, the wall of water was almost upon me. It should have swallowed me up by now.

  I open my eyes and discover an odd sight.

  The water is retreating. It behaves as an advancing body of water, yet every second sees it retreat a little further.

  That’s strange, I think. I stare at the water for a while before noticing the wagon bouncing up and down beneath me. The walls rush by in a blur, and the air whips at my frame. That can only mean one thing.

  We’re moving. The rokk speeds forward, pulling us past tunnel entrance after tunnel entrance.

  “Faster!” yells Jonn. “Faster!”

  I feel bad for the poor animal, but one quick glance is all it takes to tell me the water is gaining on us.

  “Hurry!” I beg.

  Jonn glares at me but says nothing. He snaps the reins, but we have already reached maximum velocity. I focus on the water, only to realize it has gained even more ground.

  “We won’t make it!” I say, now having to yell to be heard over the roar of the water.

  Jonn doesn’t answer. He merely points. I follow the trajectory of his finger all the way to the glow that lies before us. The tunnel entrance is still far, but the sight of it fills me with hope. That is until I focus on the wall of water. It’s now so close I could reach out and touch it.

  “We won’t make it!” I repeat.

  “Yes,” says Jonn, his gaze fixed on the end of the tunnel, which now stands less than a hundred metres away. “We wi—”

  The water reaches us before he can finish. I expect the collision to be jarring, but the body of water picks us up and, carrying us the rest of the way, sends up flying out of the tunnel like a bullet leaving the chamber.

  The next few moments are a blur. I see short, stalky men diving out of our way, and glowing trees in the distance. I spot yellow torches and what may or may not be another wagon. Our journey eventually ends when we slam into a sentinel. Unaffected by the rokk’s forward momentum, the sentinel stands its ground as the poor animal folds like a house of cards. Thrown off course by the collision, the wagon flips, sending its contents flying through the air.

  I remain airborne for a moment before gravity grabs hold of me and slams me into the ground. I lie there, breathless, as stone fragments rain down upon me. Closing my eyes to avoid being blinded, I protect myself as best as I can and wait for the downpour to end. It takes a while, but the pummeling eventually stops.

  Bruised and disoriented, I open my eyes. Jonn lies nearby, his clothes torn to shreds by the sharp stones.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “I’ll live,” he grunts as he pries himself off the ground and offers me a hand. “You?”

  “Same,” I mutter as he pulls me to my feet. One look at our surroundings is all it takes to reveal how lucky we were.

  Dozens of teams escaped the tunnel system before it was compromised, but not all were so lucky. Every few seconds, a man comes flying out of one of the dozen or so tunnels that have been affected by the flood. Most are unhurt, but a few writhe in pain upon landing on the stone floor.

  The water level rises quickly. Within minutes, we’re standing at the center of a vast lake. It’s shallow, b
ut it’s only a matter of time before that changes. The water level continues to rise until it reaches waist level. I’m debating whether or not we should make our way toward the forest to gain higher ground when the tunnels finally stop spewing.

  Silence settles upon us. It lasts a moment before the water starts to retreat. As soon as it does, a powerful cheer rises up. I glance at Jonn and find him with his fists raised in the air.

  It takes a few seconds, but the other humans pick up the cheer and soon, the entire cavern vibrates with shouts of victory. By the time they die out, most of the water has retreated into the many fissures that riddle the cavern. It’s not until only a few centimetres remain that I spot him.

  The dying man. His wounds have been cleansed by the water, but the lack of blood does little to diminish the inevitability of his demise.

  I rush to his side. He’s weak, but he’s still alive.

  “What…” he croaks, but his trembling body won’t allow him to say more.

  “Don’t speak,” I say as I clutch his hand. His eyes focus on me, and his lips curl into a faint smile when he recognizes me.

  “Every… everything… all right,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “That’s right,” I say. “Everything will be all right.”

  The man gives me one final smile, then closes his eyes. His hand trembles for a moment more then grows still.

  The man is dead.

  I release him and step away. Moments later, the man’s skin starts to fall away in large flakes.

  “What’s happening?” asks Jonn.

  “He’s being reborn,” I say.

  We stand in silence and watch as a beautiful tree sprouts from the man’s body. It grows at an accelerated rate until it towers high above us. I stare at it for a while, memorizing the sight of its swaying trunk and glowing leaves. Finally, when I have a clear mental image of it, I turn away and walk off.

  “Where are you doing?” asks Jonn as he hurries after me.

  “Kara is waiting for us,” I say. “We need to fix our mistake before anyone else dies.”