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  Efrem leaned back, forgetting the leach-like device protruding from his rib cage. He let the reality of the doctor's words sink in. “I thought I dreamt the whole thing, you know, like a hallucination.”

  “There are some instances where adrenalin highs allowed people, back on Old Earth, to do amazing things, but they were few and not properly documented. Studies into the adrenal gland’s hormone release garnered ethical controversies back then.”

  "Yeah, I remember. Some government sanctioned project secretly paid people so they could induce a hysterical reaction," Efrem said.

  "Yes, well, they tortured those people. Then there were the rumors the military funded the research to make super soldiers."

  “I heard that too, but they never proved anything.”

  The doctor sighed. “I wasn’t surprised. Not getting into the complicated task of the hypothalamus and the pituitary gland, the adrenal glands are one of the most complex organs in the body, but I don’t think this is what happened to you out there. You could’ve had an adrenalin surge, but there’s a problem with that hypothesis. Adrenalin only works in short spurts, at least that we know, and you had half the breathing capacity and the fractured ribs compromised the other half. You were also caring Miller’s dead weight for four minutes, at a speed of about thirty-seven miles an hour. Impossible as it sounds there's only one word that comes to mind," the doctor paused wondering if he should even utter it, “Miracle.

  Efrem closed his eyes, taking in the word, trying to understand what this word meant to a nonbeliever.

  Chapter 30

  Conundrum

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 14, 4067

  “Order please!” Ben said, fanning his hands, waiting until he could only hear a slight murmuring. “I see everyone’s heard why we have called this meeting today.” He sneezed.” Damn, damp conditions are going to kill us before we can solve this dilemma, he thought, as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “My apologies. Twenty-one days have come to pass since our awakening into this animated new world, and we’re still trying to figure out how to be a part of it.

  “Today, we do have sad news. We’ve learned that last night at 0300 hours, Dr. Justin Finch took his life.” Ben paused, to let the news sink in. “I knew the doctor had been depressed following the knowledge of what we were up against, but to come this far and succumb to sadness and fear is indeed tragic. We know nothing has turned out as planned. In fact, we are facing circumstances beyond our control, but I believe with all my heart that we will prevail. Humanity has fought for survival for thousands of years, and we have the same drive. We will learn from adversity and find our way.

  "We have invited some folks who can offer some insight into our dilemma and can offer possible solutions. We have set up a link where you can drop off suggestions or experiences. We invite everyone to participate, even if you think someone else has already suggested it.

  “Today we will hear from Lt. Pierce, Dr. Spencer, Malica Boudra, Sergeant Gonzales, Mirra Agassiz, Sammis Kepler, Efrem Mather, Private First-Class Johnson, and myself. I told them to keep it brief. We want all your thoughts, concerning what you think is happening and how we should proceed.” Ben stepped aside and clipped another microphone to his lapel.

  “We will start with Lt. Pierce since he's the head of our military outfit and has firsthand experience of what’s out there,” Ben said.

  “Good morning.” Lt. Pierce said, clearing his throat. “I’ve been tossing things around all night so forgive my hesitation. This land seems to have a mind of its own. I know it sounds conspiratorial, but it’s as if we are a disease and the planet doesn’t want us. Some occurrences looked random, but now that I consider how the plants and animals have reacted toward us,” he paused feeling the weight of their dilemma. “I think we need more data. We have to use what plants and animals are close to the cave to provide the answers were looking for.”

  “Thank you, Lt. Pierce,” Ben said, excusing him. “Spence, if you may.” He motioned with his hand.

  “I didn’t go on a mission, but I have studied the recordings and spoken to all those involved in leaving our perimeter. We need to start visualizing this as an alien world, and not Old Earth. Things are amiss here. We understand each other, despite being from diverse language-speaking countries. Some accents and different words get by, but we don't know what is causing our languages to sinc. We have folks which are dreaming, and these dreams have come to pass. Everyone else has stopped dreaming. I’ve discovered the restructuring of plants and animals. Some have livers, or organs with no apparent purpose, others have hairs, feathers, or skin composed of unknown compounds. We need to adapt. When we look out there," Dr. Spencer gestured toward the entrance, "we see harmony. Are we harmony, too? No, we’re a fractured race. We need to change the way we think.” Dr. Spencer sighed, his eyes revealing his frustration. “I wish I had more.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Dr. Malica.”

  “Thank you. I wish I could understand this wondrous world more. I know many would certainly not call it wondrous, but I will. I see the possibilities. We need to breach what is alienating us from this world. Let’s face it—we are the outsiders. I believe we are going about this the wrong way. Like Lt. Pierce, I think we should examine the local life first. It is not bad, it is simply living and wants to survive, no matter the cost—Just like us.”

  “Sergeant Gonzales.”

  "Thanks, Ben. Part of my ancestry comes from the Caribbean Indians. During a dark stage of their life, they faced what they thought were gods—the European Spaniards. They studied these gods and found them wanting. One day, an Indian drowned a Spaniard in the river. This enemy forged metals, possessed fire weapons, and mighty ships. Our disadvantage is that we think we're gods fighting lower life forms. The truth is, we don’t want to be the tyrant Spaniards who enslaved the Indians nation. We need to put away our advanced machines and weapons and act like the animals and plants.” He looked at Ben and said, “Thanks.” He left the podium, leaving a profound silence as minds digested what he had said.

  Ben smiled. “No thank you, Sergeant. That was enlightening. Dr. Mirra.”

  “I suppose as an ecologist you would think I could offer a scientific view of the mechanics at work here. What I have, instead, is a warning. We need to make amends. Humans unintentionally—or intentionally—pillaged and destroyed our previous diverse ecosystems. We need to start by doing as Sergeant Gonzales said. Once the land allows us to settle down, we need to let nature take its course and nature will let us take ours,” Mirra said. Her dark eyes examining haunted faces.

  “Dr. Sammis.”

  “I agree with all the speakers. I am a botanist, but I feel like a grade school student when it comes to this land. Everything I thought I knew about science and nature just stepped out the door. The fauna I have been recording and analyzing is not simply animated—it has instinctual intelligence that allows it to react to its environment. It behaves like a higher life form. We need to go back to the basics, not to our previous understanding, but this new one we now face,” Sammis said.

  “Efrem.” Ben motioned.

  “I agree. When the land saw me approach, they yielded, but when they felt threatened by our weapons, words—or thoughts, for all I know—then they became aggressive. We have to blend in, not with conventional camouflage, but something similar to the plants themselves. I saw primates imitate the trees movement and design. They were as invasive as any primate who eats the leaves off its host, but they were as invisible to the tree as the giraffe tearing at leaves from afar. We…”

  Ben raised his hand.

  “Yes, Ben?”

  “Won’t our people be exposed without armor or weapons?” Ben said.

  “We have to find local, organic materials. Synthetic camo will not work, believe me, we tried it and we were well camouflaged, little good it did us. We can start around this mountain, being watchful of the sky, of course. We can move inland slowly, swaying like the trees
and, once in their midst we may be able to find fruit and capture game with bows.” Efrem stepped away from the mic, noticing Ben’s twitching mouth.

  “We don’t have archery equipment,” Ben said.

  Efrem turned to face Ben. “Better yet, we have engineers. Listen—this won’t be easy. Lives may be lost, but we either leave these caves or die here, of starvation, disease, you name it. I'd rather die trying than being fear-stricken in these damp caves.” Efrem saw all eyes trained on him. They were lost and frightened. Why didn’t we bring more worriers? he thought. Then he remembered how fast the end had come.

  “Thank you, Efrem. Following Private Johnson, we will convene and—”

  Johnson stood abruptly. “I’m with everyone. We need to adapt or die,” he said, and followed Efrem off the ledge, without another word.

  "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I want anyone who knows archery to approach myself, Dr. Spencer, or Malica. We will also need volunteers to help us with that idea. We also need volunteers to scour the mountain for anything organic we can use, also if someone can come up a suit that can accommodate raw material that will not attract undue attention to it, let us know. I’m sure many of you want to voice your opinion and fears. Sally, along with other staff members, will be reviewing your ideas, and once we have consensus, we will gather once more, so let’s get to work.”

  A bald man raised his bony hand high.

  Ben tried to hide a sigh. “Yes.”

  “How long before our food provisions are depleted, Ben?”

  The room grew morbidly silent as if someone had pressed the mute button. Ben had hoped to end the meeting on a positive note. Ben wanted to lie, but he needed some hustle from these fragile colonists. “We have a little over a month's worth, and that's rationing the last weeks,” Ben said, seeing some faces darken, some blanched, others held their mouths open in disbelief. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we will leave the caves. You have what it takes. Fear can only slow us down, so let’s get going.” Malica intervened.

  The delegates began dispersing from the room. Trying to keep their voices hushed, it sounded like the hushed mumbling of churchgoers as they follow the minister in reciting scripture.

  “What made you be so candid, Ben?” Dr. Spencer asked.

  “I can depend on the military, security, maintenance, sanitation teams, and IT techs to move fast and take care of matters, but as you well know, scientist move as fast as they experiment. At this point, we need minds and bodies, not scientists.”

  The doctor stared at Ben for a moment, then said, “I think that’s the first time I truly agree with you.”

  Ben smiled. "There's a first for everything, Spence. Stick around, and maybe it will happen again."

  Chapter 31

  Surrender

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 18, 4067

  "I feel clumsy and stupid," Tom said, examining his feather-leaf outfit. His tall, lanky frame made him look like an anomalous dead tree, which had faced one too many woodpeckers.

  “We’re not participating in a beauty pageant, Tom,” Dr. Evens said, shaking his feathered head. His suit was splattered with mud and stringed feathers, appearing more like a bloated, sick pheasant rather than a bird. “I got the long johns mud suit, so count yourself blessed. I will die in my undergarment, and you will be the ugly tree that provides me shade during hot days.”

  “Don’t say things like that. At least the trees have accepted us, and those green apes think we’re as repulsive as beets.”

  “There’s another scale. Sway and shift, sway and shift,” Dr. Evens sang.

  They'd gathered a satchel full of feathers, skin, leaves, and dry excrement. Some they had to snatch away from siphoning, biting, and stabbing roots; others they stole from ravenous eels. Dr. Evans and Tom carried rods made of reinforced steel for protection. They had killed two five-pound ells which, according to Mirra, were not truly eels, but reptiles. The things had no noticeable eyes. Lines of sharp, steel-hard fangs covered their jaws. The fine scales gave them away as reptiles.

  “Hold it,” Dr. Evans said. “Look,” he whispered.

  A pig-like creature dragged its paws on the soil, siphoning at a scurrying weed. While approaching its meal, it moved like the plant, its thick mane mimicking the sway of leaves.

  “Catch or kill?” Tom asked, already pulling back his short spear.

  “We've got gloves. You'll catch, and I'll inject," the doctor whispered as he slowly rummaged for the syringe gun in the sack. "Ready?"

  “Uh-huh.”

  Tom fell on the animal, and it nearly tossed him off. It squealed so loud it made their ears ring.

  The doctor wasted no time. He thrust the barrel of the injector at the thrashing pig’s hide and squeezed the trigger just before losing his balance and falling aside.

  Tom scampered off the greasy pig, panting and laughing at the doctor. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, Doc. I think you were more scared than the pig.”

  “I’m a scientist, not a farmer, Mr. Tom,” he said, trying to catch his breath and find his feet. Something struck the mud-cast mold below his calf. “Ouch!” He tried to roll to his belly but the heavy mud suit made him lose his balance, and he fell on his back again. The older man spun his head towards Tom, his wild eyes revealing that something was wrong, but Tom stared back frozen. That's when a large root exploded from Dr. Even's midsection, lifting him off the ground with such force that his arms and legs thrust down and up with a jerk. The thick eight-foot root remained suspended in time.

  Tom felt his nerve melt. The appendage shot back into the ground, Leaving Tom to witness the softball-size hole in Dr. Evans abdomen, digestive fluids and plasma creating a whirlpool in the crater.

  Tom squeezed his eyes closed, as eels launched themselves at the gory cavity. The shrubs and trees ignored him as he shakily bagged the prize pig and scurried away, straining his neck from side to side expecting to be impaled at any moment.

  ************************************

  The creature slammed its root-like paws at the glass, its shrieks muffled by the thick pained enclosure.

  “You say the attack started when the creature squealed?” Dr. Spencer asked a still shaky Tom. At first, all he could say was, ‘He sacrificed himself. He sacrificed himself.’

  “Y-yes, Doctor. I couldn’t help Dr. Evans.” He covered his face with both hands and laid his head on the table, allowing the tears come again. He moaned and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  "You said the attack came fast, leaving the doctor with a large abdominal cavity. I doubt you could've done anything for him. Bringing this creature back might help us further understand the land to save many. I'm not sure I would've done anything differently, and I don't think the doctor would’ve wanted you to die either. We're all making sacrifices, everyone is, not for the present, but for humanity’s future.” He handed Tom a towel.

  "I know, but I knew him well. I've been helping him with the mineral segregation process. I'm just technician, but he treated me like a colleague," Tom said, wiping his nose instead of the tears.

  “What was the creature doing before you captured it?”

  “It walked—no, slid—like a plant would, then it came across a weed and sucked it up.”

  “So the trees defended it, despite its ability to eat plants. We must surely rank low as a species to them,” the doctor said, more to himself.

  “Strange, huh? Have the others bought back more stuff?”

  “Absolutely, but not a live creature and,” he hesitated knowing the man’s sensitive condition, “they have losses, too.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sniffling.

  “I think everyone finally understands what’s at stake, and that’s why we’re still getting volunteers. I’ll keep you abreast of any discoveries.”

  “Thanks, doctor. I’ll be going out again tomorrow,” Tom said, handing him back the rag.

  Dr. Spencer paused. “Keep
it. Isn’t that too soon? I mean, you’ve been through a traumatic experience.”

  “Ben said he needs my skill again tomorrow,” Tom said, shrugging as though he had no other choice but to obey.

  “How do you feel about going back out there?”

  Tom glanced from side to side as if speaking his mind would get him in trouble, "I'm tired, and all I can see is Dr. Evan falling and being stabbed by that nasty root."

  Dr. Spencer turned to a large metal case, which had a white screen above it. He spoke to it, and it opened a small hatch containing a blue-gel capsule. “Take this tonight. It will help you rest.” Dr. Spencer put the gel capsule in a tiny plastic zip-lock bag and handed it to Tom.

  “Will I be up in time for the mission?” He eyed the pill.

  “Oh, plenty of time,” the doctor said, knowing the man would sleep for at least twenty-four hours.

  ************************************

  “Ben, do you have a minute?” Dr. Spencer called out.

  “In a bit of a hurry. We lost two more citizens today. The reports are horrendous,” Ben said, not looking away from his hand-held.

  Dr. Spencer realized the man looked haggard. “Tom Delaney’s going out again tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I asked him to. Is there a problem?”

  “There certainly is. The man is exhausted and suffering from post-traumatic stress, or at least he seems legitimately contrite, though I'm no detective to ascertain if his story is accurate, for all we know he abandoned the doctor, leaving him to his fate. If on the other hand, he is as affected by this as he seems to be, he might get himself, or someone else killed out there,” Dr. Spencer said, louder than he intended.

  “You heard his story. I believe him.” Ben scowled.