Wheat and Chaff

Arra cried silently, stooped over the cutting board lest anyone in the compound notice. Orion sat at the table behind her, absorbed in his logbooks and storeroom inventories. Leda bustled nearby, mending clothing and linens. Through the blur of saltwater, Arra could see Titus chopping wood outside. She matched his rhythmic cadence, aligning her knife with his axe to steady herself.

She’d prepared any number of excuses. She was chopping an onion, and the juices wreaked havoc on her mucus membranes. It was an onion she’d planted, tended, and pulled from the earth herself—a major milestone in their subsistence.

All those things were technically true; she wouldn’t be spinning a falsehood. But at the center of it all, she was thinking about Fawkes. Her blade bisected the bulb, exposing the layers, cutting through the complications. He was gone. He could be anywhere. She missed him. She hoped he was okay.

Titus’ axe stilled and the dull beat of Arra’s knife was swallowed by a high-pitched whine unlike anything she’d heard. All four of them looked to the window.

A white blur cut through the brush lining the compound, pinging off tree trunks and raining needles without losing speed. The whine grew louder before crashing through the barricades. Arra dropped the knife. Diced onion scattered across the floor.

“It’s headed for the gardens, Titus!” Orion rose, chair toppling to the floor. Arra followed, desperate to protect the fruit of her labor.

In the garden, three of the five bean trellises lay in splinters. Arra wailed as Titus stalked the creature with his axe raised, pulverizing the potatoes.

The weapon dropped. Arra closed her eyes against the carnage, prepared for the wet thump of a blade through fur and flesh. Instead, her ears were assaulted by the crash of splintering metal.

“It burns,” Titus yelped, clutching his hand. Orion raced to survey the wound. Titus’ palm was livid, blistered, and weeping.

“That thing did this to you?” Smoke trailed from the wreckage.

Titus shuddered in pain. Arra suspected the big man was trying not to cry. For the second time that day, she was close to tears herself.

***

Night fell fast on the compound, the security of the trees obscuring any early evening sunlight. Titus lay on his cot in the sleeping quarters, staring vacantly at the ceiling while Orion changed the dressing on his burn. Leda tore a sheet into strips. The sound of the bursting seams set Arra’s teeth on edge. Since she had nothing to contribute to Titus’ care, she stirred the stew for the evening meal. Again. And again. And again.

Finally, Orion and Leda left Titus where he lay and gathered at the dinner table.

“He’s sleeping. I gave him a dose of sedative,” Orion said, running his fingers through his hair. “Another thing to adjust on the supply log.”

“Eat first, you’ll feel better.” Arra massaged his shoulder and served him a steaming bowl of stew.

“We’ve had a difficult day,” he acknowledged, patting her hand. He spooned stew into his mouth, tasting nothing.

“What was that thing?” Leda asked over her bowl.

“I have no idea,” he said. “It’s dangerous and should be destroyed.”

“It reminded me of those first wave attacks,” Arra said. “But there’s no way those would still be going on, right? It’s been two years.”

“It looks different. Smaller, maybe. I don’t remember them being hot enough to burn,” Leda said. “Do you think—”

The table sat with spoons stilled, no one willing to finish the question. Do you think they’ve found us? Do you think there are other survivors? Do you think it isn’t over yet?

“We need to rebuild as soon as possible,” Orion insisted. “Arra, get to the garden and inventory what we have, see what can be salvaged. Leda, I’m charging you with figuring out how it works. I want to be ready in case there are more.”

“That’s not my area of expertise. If we still had—”

“I’m asking you to try.” Orion’s spoon rang as it clattered against his bowl.

“I’ll get right on it, boss,” Leda mumbled.

Later that night, Arra and Leda cleaned up the dishes, trading whispers.

“I know nothing about technology, but even I know that thing looks familiar.” Leda leaned closer. “Have you heard anything from him?”

“Him who?” Arra asked, though she knew very well who Leda meant.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Fawkes, of course!” Leda bumped Arra’s hip.

“Why would I have heard from him?”

“Because—I don’t know, I always felt like you two— you know, had something.” She waggled her brows, grinning.

For a moment, Arra longed for a simpler time. They might have been friends, trading secrets over glasses of wine.

“Orion’s a good man, and we wouldn’t be here without him. I owe him my life.” She looked over her shoulder to see if he was listening.

“I never said he wasn’t.” Leda dried the last dish, sighing at the rips in the rag. “This will have to wait. The device is priority number one.”

Arra looked through the kitchen window. The destroyed trellises looked like a desiccated corpse in the moonlight.

“I suspect we’ll all have different priorities now.”

***

The group rose after a restless night punctuated by Titus’ moans. Arra prepared their breakfast while Orion muttered darkly in the storeroom.

“We’re low on NSAIDs. Arra, could you prepare some willow bark?”

“I was planning on working in the garden today, seeing what can be salvaged,” Arra said.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We have to be flexible to survive out here.”

“We also have to eat.”

“I know better than most exactly how much we have to eat. The garden is off-limits until Leda can get that thing out of there. Now, go get some willow bark.”

Arra abandoned the breakfast on the countertop and selected a few strips of willow bark from the herbs drying in the storeroom. When they first set up the compound in the woods, she’d hardly been able to find her way back home, let alone prepare food and medicines from the world around them. Orion taught them everything, and he hadn’t steered them wrong.

Yet. Arra wasn’t sure he was right about this one.

She bundled the bark into a sachet for steeping while Leda rummaged for tools.

“How’s it going out there?” Arra asked.

Leda scoffed. “It’s hard to say. If I’m being honest, I haven’t a clue what I’m doing. I think it’s some sort of surveillance device.”

The pair exited the compound and knelt in the garden. She numbed the rising tide of anger at the sight of the ruined produce. This is where she was needed, not at Orion’s beck and call.

Lena reached for the device. Arra grabbed her wrist.

“Be careful! You could burn yourself!”

“Not anymore. It seems to have a chemical power source, which was hot when Titus crushed it. It’s cool now.” Leda pointed to an oily residue in the soil.

It was comforting to know that there weren’t others out there with access to electricity, but it was alarming that someone harnessed chemical power.

“There are two wheels here, which is where it gets its speed. I haven’t figured out what the rest of it does. If I knew, I might be able to guess why it’s here or where it came from.”

“Or who built it,” Arra said, half to herself.

Leda gave her a look. “Don’t we already know that?”

The hope Arra nurtured these past months crystallized. One of Fawkes’ inventions had finally grown out of his fanciful promises.

“A communication bot,” he’d schemed one night. He flashed a charming smile around the firepit, to mixed reception. “We can send it out of the compound to look for more survivors.”

Titus and Leda looked hopeful; their work was lighter with more hands.

“More survivors means more mouths to feed. And how would you make it, anyway? Anything hooked into a network makes us vulnerable,” Orion said.

Arra’s heart clenched as Fawkes’ face fell. She could only smile, denying her instinct to reach for his hand. That beautiful dreamer, that idealist. He was always trying to escape their harsh realities in a kind word or an impossible fantasy.

But if what she was seeing was true, if this machine was made by his hand, then he was out there, surviving.

“Is that why you think it’s a surveillance device?” Arra asked, shaking off the feeling.

Leda shrugged. “I’m trying not to let that color my assumptions, but it certainly doesn’t look malicious.”

“And yet it managed to destroy vital sources of nutrition,” Orion said.

Both women jumped.

“I think it’s safe to assume that it cannot be trusted. Leda, move the remnants to the storeroom. Arra, get back to work repairing the trellises.”

“That would be a lot easier with Titus’ help. How is he feeling?” Arra asked.

Orion’s mouth set in a hard line. “The man suffered a second degree burn and you’re asking if he can lift a hammer? Even with my expertise, he’s going to need time to heal. We all need to pull our weight.”

Arra nodded. She had no reason to complain. She scraped two wooden planks together and re-wrapped the twine.

***

The sun was low in the sky before she returned to the house. The others gathered around the table; even Titus, glassy eyed and flushed.

“What’s for dinner tonight, Arra?” Orion asked.

She didn’t have anything prepared. She’d lost track of time.

“I’m sure I can whip something up if you’ll give me a moment.” She scurried toward the kitchen, but Orion stood blocking her path.

“May I speak to you in the sleeping quarters?”

Leda’s eyes flicked between the pair. “I’ll check the storeroom for anything to eat.”

Arra followed Orion. The sleeping quarters were heavily scented with medicinal herbs and sweat.

“You’re distracted, Arra.”

Her eyes fell to the floor. “There’s a lot to take in, the last few days. I’ve had new responsibilities with Titus in recovery. I’m sure you’re hungry, and I can help—”

He closed the gap between them, bracing her shoulders in his strong hands. Arra’s throat closed.

“It’s not just today, or yesterday. You’ve been distracted for months. Don’t think I haven’t seen you, daydreaming in the woods or crying over the cuttings when you think no one is looking.” He squeezed tighter.

Arra closed her eyes.

When she opened them, Orion pulled her into an embrace. Against her better judgement, she softened, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heart.

“We want the same thing,” he spoke into her ear. “To survive. To thrive. I don’t want to fight you. You’re a vital part of our community, you know.”

Arra looked up. He was smiling, a crooked grin. It was unnatural on his stoic features.

“Certainly more than Leda and maybe more than Titus, if his hand doesn’t heal properly,” he continued. “That’s why I chose you when everything was going to hell. You were scared then, clinging to what you knew and who you thought you could trust. But I could see a spark of resilience in you, circumstances be damned. I said to myself, there’s a woman who will find a way, no matter the cost.”

His words echoed in her mind. No matter the cost.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. And given our current circumstances, I’d like to go look for Fawkes.”

“And why’s that?” Orion’s grip slipped to her hips, fingers digging in.

“Like you said, we might be a person down for awhile. And if this device is for surveillance, it would be safest to have someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Leda’s done the job adequately.”

“But what if there are more?” Arra pressed. “We still don’t know what it is or why it’s here, or how we can stop them before they compromise of our way of life. Fawkes could help with that.”

“In all likelihood, Fawkes is dead.”

His reply set her off balance. He couldn’t be dead, not when he was so alive in her memories, when she talked with him idly throughout the day.

“We were right to cast him out. He had his uses early on, securing the compound and removing our reliance on technology, but he outlasted his usefulness.” His hand drifted from her waist to her ribs, over her breasts, until it came to rest lightly on her jaw. “If only you’d seen fit to cast him out of your mind, too.”

Orion advanced, shoving Arra against the wall. Her head ricochet, snapping against the cinderblocks. His eyes blazed, but his voice was still and measured.

“He is dead. He was worthless. He is not coming to save us. Only I can save us, and I need total compliance. Is that understood?”

Head still spinning, Arra struggled to summon a reply. A retching sound sharpened her thoughts.

“Guys?” Leda called. “We have a problem.”

Orion released her and crossed the room in a single bound. “Is it Titus?”

Leda slipped into the sleeping quarters. “Sure, he’s sick, but I noticed something about the device when I was rustling up dinner.”

“And?”

“It’s still on.”

The group jostled each other, racing for the storeroom.

Titus staggered behind them. “No, it’s my fault,” he moaned. “I didn’t get it all the way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Orion said, voice gentler than Arra had ever heard it.

The device lay in a heap. There were so many shards, it didn’t seem possible to have survived the axe. Yet the central unit emit a weak, red glow.

Titus heaved again.

“Bed. Now,” Orion ordered. “Leda, get this cleaned up. Arra, more willow bark.”

***

Tasks completed, the women waited. Their appetites were gone.

“Will he be okay?” Leda asked anxiously as Orion reappeared.

“No way of knowing. He has a fever, which could be a sign of healing, or could be infection setting in.

Arra studied the man, so unwilling to admit defeat. He looked small in the lamplight.

“Let’s hear your report on the device.” Orion pulled himself to full height.

Leda massaged a knuckle. “It somehow retained its power source despite crashing through our fence and meeting the business end of an axe.”

“We need Fawkes,” Arra repeated.

Orion pounded the table, punctuating his statement. “Get. It. Through. Your. Head. He’s dead.”

“It does seem like something Fawkes mentioned once, in passing,” Leda said, trembling under Orion’s glare. “But it’s just as likely some enemy we know nothing about.”

“Fawkes wouldn’t hurt us. Maybe he’s trying to find us,” Arra said. He wouldn’t hurt me, she thought.

“He didn’t last long enough to build the damn thing. He never built a thing here with our vast resources at his disposal.” Orion gestured around the compound: its crumbling fence, decimated garden, near- empty storeroom, and four broken residents.

“Arra,” Leda said, reaching for her hand. “Even if he did survive, we haven’t gone anywhere. He knows where to find us. We left Fawkes to die. What do you think he’d want with us?”

***

Arra stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables well into the night. She didn’t dare rest in the sleeping quarters in case Orion had a mind to finish what he started. Despite her hopes, even she could admit he was right. Their survival was worth the fight, and if she had to sacrifice sleep to ensure they ate tomorrow, so be it.

Kneeling in the storeroom, she selected the least-rotted carrots from their crate. The device glowed, and although it might have been fatigue, she swore it pulsed periodically. Rising to her feet, her head swam and ears rang. She should have eaten something earlier.

She gnawed on discarded carrot greens, but the ringing in her ears did not subside. It intensified into a buzz.

A crash startled her.

Orion stood in the kitchen. Leda flanked him, and Titus leaned heavily against the table. She reached for her knife, poised to strike.

But they were looking past her, not at her. The buzzing grew louder and she turned to look.

Three devices, larger than the one in their storeroom, rolled up to the barricades and waited. Orion rushed out of the compound, grabbing the axe. The others followed. Leda clutched a fallen tree branch. Titus cradled a garden stone. Arra gripped her kitchen knife.

Gravel crunched underfoot as a man stepped onto the path. His face was obscured in shadow, but his posture was erect. Unbeaten.

“Fawkes,” Arra whispered.