So I told her what she’d done to my father was beautiful.
And you know what’s messed up?
It was sort of beautiful. In its own horrible way. And I remembered what I’d said to Crow about heaven and hell and how they’re maybe just the same thing anyway. Glory and hunger. Fear and love. All looped together so there’s no place where one ends and the next one’s beginning.
And then, as I stared into the tank, I thought maybe the world wasn’t as dead as we’d thought it. Maybe it was just lying dormant. Waiting for seeds.
“The liquid preserves the microclimate,” the Creator said, still watching me, her voice scuffed and loose. “Protects him from winter.”
I swallowed. Almost spoke.
“He’s safe,” she whispered. “This is the one. Where every test went right.” She stood, staring into the tank. “He’s a hundred percent locust-proof. Free from harm. Forever.”
I tried to see a way my dad was just sleeping inside what was growing in there. His mind still working, still thinking. Dreaming. Not dead, somehow. Not gone.
“What about his brain?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “He’s more tree now than man.”
The words stabbed at me. I felt them in my guts. My bones. Nothing makes the world seem hopeless like knowing it’s empty. But I had to cut off those parts that the knowing infected. Those parts that can cause you nothing but pain.
“And what’ll be left?” I said, clenching my fists as if I might squeeze out the hurt and let it drip from my fingers. “After you’ve used him.”
“Just enough to regenerate for the next crop. His body became the perfect breeding ground. And we’ll keep fusing these cells to human tissue until we’ve reached enough diversity.”
“And then?”
“Then my work will be done.” She put her hand on the wall of the tank, and it left a sticky smear on the glass. “His work, too.”
Outside the Orchard, we stood huddled together as snow fell white against the darkness. I felt like I’d been punched flat and sucked dry. My head was pounding and parched.
“I am sorry,” the Creator said, hunching her shoulders. “I’m sorry your father and I caused you so much pain.”
The woman smiled at me and for the first time I felt bad for her, because I knew there was no part of her that could understand what I felt.
She’d stayed here, searching for a solution that cost hundreds of lives. Thousands, maybe. And no matter how she justified it, the way I saw it, everything the world now needed only GenTech was going to get. But how could she not see that? How could she choose to be so damn blind?
We crunched back through the snow with our hoods hiding our faces, making our way toward the building where Zee would be sleeping and Crow would hopefully be healing so as to be ready to fight. You got to be strong, that’s what I told myself. For Alpha and all the other prisoners. For what was left of my father. For the taken. The burned. For the empty-bellied strugglers. On this island we could bust a hole in something wicked. And I’d die if I had to. Or I’d live. And bring home the trees.
There was an agent standing watch at the door to the building. He was bundled and wrapped as we were, buried inside a huge puffy coat.
“Good evening, Creator,” the man said.
“Staying cold enough for you?” She swiped her electronic tag to unseal the door.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, miss,” the man said, and his voice wound my guts tight inside me. “I love to see the seasons. No matter how cold they get.”
As the door began to slide back in place and lock us inside, I stared back at the bulky figure all covered in fuzz and GenTech logos. A gun on his back and a club in his hand. Just like all the agents. Except he had a voice I’d heard and would always remember. Because this agent wasn’t just no one. Or anyone.
This agent was Frost.
I didn’t sleep. I just waited at the side of Crow’s bed, counting the seconds till he woke up again. The work they’d done on his legs had helped repair his skin as well, gave him a sort of sheen where before he’d been all scarred and blistered. The new limbs were something else, though. Strapping big legs, all scaly with bark. They were stuck outside the sheets, full of lumps and grooves, and they were bigger even than the originals had been. If Crow woke up able to use them, I reckoned those legs would have him standing about ten feet tall.
Crow’s face was peaceful, looked like he was catching up on a whole lifetime of sleep. And I just sat there, restless, watching the watcher.
“Crow,” I finally whispered.
“What?”
“You sleeping?”
“No. I be talking to you.” He opened his eyes. “What you doing here staring at me?”
“Wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Okay. We doing okay.”
“The legs,” I said.
“Yeah, man. I been trying to use them.”
“How long?”
“Long enough, man. Long enough.”
I stared down at his legs and they weren’t even twitching. “Maybe it’ll just take awhile,” I said.
“Sure, Banyan. Maybe.”
“I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
“Frost’s here.”
This got his attention and he turned his glare on full.
“Frost?”
“Yeah. I seen him.”
“Old bastard must’ve volunteered himself.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t have much choice. Or maybe he just paid his way up here. How in Jah’s name would I know?”
“Listen,” I said, not sure what I was going to say till the words were coming out. “I think we can use him.”
“Frost? No, man. Frost can’t be trusted.”
“We don’t need to trust him, just get him on our side for a bit.”
“And then what?”
“Then we can get rid of him. Once and for all.”
“You’re cold, Banyan. Cold.”
“Yeah? Well, you ain’t got legs, pal. And I’m gonna need a little help here.”
“Sell your soul to the devil, then. What do I care?”
“It’s just an idea,” I said, trying to calm him down.
“Just a bad idea.”
“You partnered with him.”
“And look where that got me.”
“We only got till the end of the day. That’s it. I got a plan, but I’m gonna need some help.”
“You should talk to Zee. She’ll help, man. She’ll help.”
“Okay. You rest up. Try to get those legs moving. I’ll come back and check on you.”
“You going to talk to Zee?”
“Yeah,” I said, but I was lying.
I was going to talk to Frost.
I strode outside into the dead part of morning. Snow all over the ground and no sunrise. Frost was gone and a different, thinner agent stood guard at the entrance.
“The man here before you,” I said. “You know where he went?”
The agent pointed and I took off the way he’d gestured, following Frost’s footsteps all the way up the hill.
When I’d made it down the other side, I found Frost in the clearing, rooting around in the scrap I’d dug from the ground. He had his hood off and his fat face was pink and chapped by the cold. Dark roots had grown in behind his bleached white hair. I stood there watching him awhile from inside my jacket, concealed in the bulk and fuzz, and hidden by trees. Then I stepped forward and Frost jerked around at the sound of my footsteps.
“Oh, hey there,” Frost said, taking me for just another agent. He went back to poking around at the salvage. “You know what the hell all this is for?”