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Sides had already formed when the three walked back out into the crowd. Chants for Jonstin and Sylvia rang out. Sylvia gave a nod to the people and kept walking. Jonstin paused and waved with a big smile, telling everyone that they were going on a walk and would soon return.
Smith tried to follow Sylvia but was stopped by nearly everyone he passed. They wanted to know his thoughts. The one thing he didn’t like about his position as a chief was the respect it gave him. He never felt he deserved it. But the more people began to stop and question him, the more he realized that he was going to have to play a more active role than he had planned. He and Jonstin were the only original chiefs left from the ship. And Sylvia, while having proven herself an invaluable asset, would be hard-pressed to gain the trust of everyone. Especially those who had been close to the original captain.
“I have to think it through,” Smith told yet another curious family. “They honestly both bring up good points.”
He pushed past them and went after Sylvia, Jonstin following close behind. She had gone toward the perimeter, and Smith caught a glimpse of her as she walked through the gate and toward where Smith had heard the screeching coming from. And where he had seen those smoke creatures running.
“Where the hell we going, Syl?”
“After you told me what you heard out here, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Last night I came to check it out.”
“You did what?” Smith asked.
“You find something?” Jonstin asked, curiosity entering his voice.
Smith started paying more attention to where they were going. Ahead of them, the ground gradually rose to a small hill. Just high enough so that he couldn’t see what was on the other side. The sun hung in the sky to the right of the hill, a glowing orange ball in the sky. Smith briefly squinted at it, trying to remember all he had studied about the planet back on the ship. The sun would set in three, maybe four hours. If the information they had about the planet’s rotation around its sun was accurate. So far, what they had learned about the planet from outside its atmosphere had been far from correct. He strained his ears, listening for the smallest chirp. All he heard was the wind.
“I wanted to assess what happened. See if there might be a danger to all of us.”
Smith sighed. “Yeah, and you could have lost an ear too.”
“Smith, I’m fine. Come on. It’s right over this hill.”
“You want to tell us what ‘it’ is?” Jonstin asked tersely.
The farmer sighed and kept walking, scratching his scruff that had only grown longer since they landed. They started up the incline and he felt his legs strain against the pull of gravity. He wondered if he would get used that. Wondered if the ground where Evalee lay was slowly pulling her deeper and deeper. Imagined what it would be like to lie next to her as she did.
They got to the top. Smith looked down, hoping to see something that would explain everything.
It was a small crater, about twenty feet across. With a quick glance, Smith saw green and silver pieces scattered across it. He crouched down to get a closer look and found that there were hundreds of small chunks that had come from the biotech beetles. Instinctively, Smith pressed a palm against his head. Could one of them really be inside his head? His skull pulsed against the pressure of his hand. Smith stood up, shook his head back and forth. Told himself nothing was there, that it was all psychological. Still, a throbbing pain spread across his head.
Sylvia called for the two men to walk to the center of the scene. Smith jogged toward to meet her, while Jonstin stepped cautiously across the soil. In the middle of it all was a hole about two feet across. He peered into it, but there was no discernible bottom. A soft green glow emanated from the hole, slowly blinking brighter and dimmer, brighter and dimmer.
“And then there’s this over here, Smith.”
Jonstin shook his head. “Of course there’s more.”
They joined her on the other side. On the ground were six gleaming metal rods, an inch thick and rounded at the ends. One was three feet long, and the other five only half that length. They were arranged in a way that made them look like a kid’s stick-figure drawing.
“Well, damn,” Smith said. “This doesn’t help us at all.”
“Right. And it only makes Jonstin’s points more valid. We don’t know what’s out past our little camp. Helpful or detrimental.”
“Thank you for that, Sylvia,” Jonstin said, hesitantly looking at the ground.
The three looked down at the metal stick figure. Smith crouched down, reached out to touch one of the rods. As his hand got close, he sensed a small vibration coming from it. He pulled away and stood up.
“This creeps me the hell out, Syl,” Smith said.
“Yeah,” she said, then laughed. “Never thought I’d see you scared of something.”
Smith laughed. “Well, now you can die happy.”
“That’d be funnier if I didn’t feel like you might actually die from a biotech bug burrowing into your brain,” Sylvia said.
Smith thought about that, scratched his scruff, and started to chuckle.
Sylvia glared at him, and then joined him.
Smith shook his head but couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t a hysterical laughing. But the kind of laugh when one realizes the ridiculous state of his life. There he was, a few days after his wife had died, standing over a graveyard of biotech insects and the only suspect of their murder was a metal stick figure. Again, he felt the skin above his ear. Was that a bump? He slowed his breaths, tried not to think about it. Though it was impossible not to think how there might be a foreign body—an insect—living in his brain.
“I don’t think I’ve laughed since we got here,” Jonstin said.
Smith turned his gaze to Jonstin. “You’ve done plenty of smiling though.”
Jonstin twisted a hand in the air. “Just politics.”
Sylvia shook her head.
Smith rolled his eyes. He considered questioning Jonstin about the comment, but decided against it. Smith caught his breath. “What’s the plan then?”
“Nearly everyone here respects you,” Sylvia said.
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
“You know, back on the ship, we had more than just one leader. The board. All the occupation chiefs.”
Smith nodded. It made sense to have the three of them work together to make decisions on what would be best for their small portion of humanity. “Okay. So the three of us.”
“Exactly. I think everyone will go for it too. It’s better than making nearly half the people upset that their person didn’t win. And then Jonstin will have to go along with it.”
“Okay, then. It’s better than letting Jonstin run it all by himself.”
“Exactly. And this way we can keep a close eye on him.”
“Yeah. Enemies closer.”
“I’m right here,” Jonstin said and tossed his hands in the air.
“We need to put the tribunal to a vote, though,” Sylvia said. “We can’t give the impression that we’re taking control away from the people.”
Smith smiled, turned and started back toward the camp without another word. Sylvia quickly followed, and Jonstin soon caught up. None of them noticed that the metal rods had begun to hover slightly above the ground.
***
The vote was unanimous. The people agreed that having three leaders with differing views, who were willing to work together, made sense. That, in order to create an atmosphere of understanding, the leaders would first need to be that example. Although Smith doubted that Jonstin would be able to hold up his end as a respectable leader. Once the decision was made, everyone followed the three new leaders to the cemetery.
The sun was setting behind the red mountains to the east, casting orange rays through wispy clouds. It looked as though the mountains were burning, the flames reaching up to lick the sky. What had been a soft breeze grew into forceful gusts that sent shivers through Smith.
They arrived and everyone gravitated to the graves of those they’d been closest to. It was obvious that no one was unaffected by the deaths that had been suffered. Some stood, arms folded or in pockets, staring at the burning sky. Others squatted, their fingers brushing the gray dirt that covered the bodies of the lost.
Smith and the other two sat next to each other on a crate full of tools. Jonstin and Sylvia looked at him expectantly. He had suggested the service, but hadn’t planned anything to say. He stood up with a cough.
“You know,” he said. “I got lots of kind words from you all today. Thanks for that.”
The crowd answered with nods and a few shouts.
“Look, if you know me, you know I’m not a talker. I keep more to myself. Even if I like you, I won’t talk to you much. Ev was good at that, though.”
More affirmation from the crowd.
“And I guess that’s why I wanted us all to meet. To remember the ‘was.’ Ev was....”
He felt it all coming to the surface, wanted to shove it down. To turn and walk away, leave the speeches to Jonstin and Sylvia.
“Ev was kind!” someone yelled from the crowd.
“Strong!” shouted another.
“A badass!”
“Beautiful!”
“Great mom!” Smith heard Abe scream. “But sometimes a pain in the ass!”
The crowd erupted, all yelling what Ev had meant to them. Leader. Mentor. Healer. Hero. It lasted nearly three minutes before Smith finally lifted a hand to quiet them.
“Damn straight she was.”
Smith walked to the grave closest to him, looked at the name scratched into a piece of shrapnel.
“Neeko was....” he began.
The crowd shouted for Neeko the same they had for Ev. This continued, Smith moving from grave to grave. The people sharing what that person was. Kind. Stubborn. Clever. Clumsy. Happy. Beautiful. And on and on.
By the time they got to the last grave, the sun had set, and the moon was halfway through its journey across the sky. But no one left. They stood there in silence, looking at Smith. The farmer had no words, so he turned to his fellow leaders.
Jonstin’s cheeks were wet with tears and he stifled a cough. ”Is Fritz around?”
Fritz shouted and waved a hand in the air.
Jonstin smiled through the grief. “Come up with the harmonica. Play something you think we’ll know the words to.”
Fritz slowly made his way to the front amidst a few shouts of encouragement. A woman followed close behind carrying a child-sized guitar.
“What’re we gonna play?” she asked Fritz.
“That one from The Almost Homeless. ‘These Damn Days.’ Know it?”
“Hell yeah,” she said. “Everyone, sing along if you know this one.”
She began to slowly pluck out a melody that pulled tears from Smith’s eyes after just five notes. The last time he’d heard the song had been just before the bomb collapsed his apartment building. The harmonica soon joined in, the two instruments weaving together a melody that, despite its simplicity, emanated a somber air that rolled through the entire crowd.
Someone choked next to Smith, and he turned to see Jonstin quietly sobbing. The pilot caught Smith looking, gave a smile, and turned away.
“Let’s go.” Fritz began to sing.
***
Okay, okay, okay.
What is there to say about these days?
(These damn days)
Everything moving in so many ways.
But, but
(Oh! These damn days.)
All those ways seem to lead
To places deeper, darker,
Than we ever thought we’d see.
(Damn, these days!)
There’s those knockin’ down walls,
Only to have some big man
Put ’em up again.
(Damn, Damn, Damn)
And others fightin’
To keep a job
That pays just enough
To live in some shitty shack,
And feed your kids
Half a meal a day.
~~~
Man, damn these days.
~~~
And then the powers,
The powers that be,
Bitch in their castles
Over things they can’t see.
Every damn day.
And the rest of us
Eat
Sleep
Cry,
Fight
Bleed
And die.
Damn
These
Days.
***
The singing stopped. The instruments continued, the only sounds around. The sounds of a dying America reminded Smith of why he had left in the first place. And he wondered whether it was worth it. If he had never decided to leave, he never would have met Ev. He would still be on Earth, alone but not heartbroken and soulless. Which hell is worse? He looked through the crowd and saw Abe, tears running down his cheeks and a thin smile on his face. Despite the pain of losing his benevolent Ev, he knew which hell he’d rather be in.
The ground underneath their feet shook. The harmonica and guitar stopped as the people shouted and looked around, eyes wide and still wet with tears. As the speed of the vibrations increased, Sylvia yelled for everyone to get inside a dome, but it was too late.
A high-pitched, grinding vibration came at them from all directions. Smith looked in the direction of the crater. The pulsing green glow had become a vibrant dome of bright emerald light. The ground buzzed under their feet and before Smith could get to Abe, they were surrounded by vibrant light and speeding shadows.
