Chapter 24 - [Mother's Instinct]

  The rain finally eased late into the night, though the thunder had mercifully stopped shaking the walls hours before. I slept through most of the day, then spent what remained of it packing, unpacking, and packing again for our trip.

  Choosing what to take, what to leave behind, was a painful process. There was a very real chance I'd never come back. My belongings could burn, disappear under creeping vines, or be claimed by the next person desperate for shelter.

  I didn't own much of value. All my money had gone toward the down payment, and everything I'd invested in over the years had been in filming and editing equipment. Now it was just a dead metal weight.

  When the torrential downpour slowed down to a drizzle, I went to pick up my buckets. I was getting low on drinking water, but wasn't ready to risk drinking rainwater without at least boiling it. And I had an idea for that.

  I cleared a large space in the middle of the garage and placed my biggest pot in the center of the bare concrete floor. I still wasn't very good at controlling the size of my [Torch], but I'd nailed the direction and knew the length by now. I set the fire extinguisher nearby, just to be safe.

  The flame poured from my extended palm the moment I activated the card. The scalding sensation no longer startled me. I'd grown used to it, knowing it would leave no marks once the card timed out.

  Again, I worked on lowering the intensity by relaxing my muscles. The flame felt alive, like it wanted to escape my body, and the more I throttled it, the more it resisted. The scorched circle around the pot kept growing. My annoyance only made things worse. The more frustrated I became, the wilder the flame burned. Finally, at the thirty-second mark, it sputtered out.

  Steam enveloped the space, thick as fog over a hot spring in winter. The remainder of the water in the blackened pot was continuing to bubble. I still had energy left, so I carefully transferred the scalding water into other containers, refilled the blackened pot with rainwater, and tried again when the timer on the card expired.

  Even on the second attempt, three-inch diameter was the smallest it would shrink when I was aiming for the one-inch flame I'd seen on Amanda's backpacking stove.

  When the skill stopped, more vapour settled on my face and hands. Exhaustion crept in. I wouldn't be able to carry all this water when we leave tomorrow anyway, so I decided to treat myself: a cup of chamomile tea with honey and a long, hot bath. The bath turned out to be more of a lukewarm puddle, and the honey packets I'd snagged from the coffee shop were expired, but all things considered, it was a pleasant experience.

  I washed off the hydrating mask and was surprised by how quickly my skin was recovering. The rashes had disappeared, leaving only a few dry patches on my cheeks and forehead instead of covering my entire face. My hair was a patchy mess. I'd probably have to cut it at some point, but for now, I could braid it and forget about it. I traced my fingers over the forehead scar, lingering for a few moments. The need to erase it wouldn't quiet down.

  But the memory of intense pain and streams of blood running down my face just yesterday was too fresh. I'd already been through too much turmoil these past few days. Did I need another reason to question my sanity?

  I covered the scar with a Band-Aid and pretended it didn't exist. Tomorrow was an early morning. I needed to sleep.

  This time, getting into bed, I didn't wait for the depressing spiral to begin. As soon as the unwelcome thoughts started to resurface, I reached for my Benadryl and melatonin cocktail. I had no patience for that nonsense tonight. A rested mind could mean the difference between survival and death tomorrow. Amanda and her kids were counting on me. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and stared into the wall, willing the medication to work faster. And eventually it did, sucking me into a familiar nightmare-filled darkness.

  I opened my eyes to the dim, dusky light filling my bedroom. The horizon was turning pink. It was like a superpower of mine; I could always wake up at Sunrise.

  In the yard, I checked on the field of work. The plant had grown overnight. One of the new runners was already trying to propagate into the empty space. Where the fresh growth covered the old plant, it was dissolving the dead tissue beneath it. A wide circle of dead grass surrounded the spot where I'd dumped the chemicals. I felt a pang of guilt for damaging the environment.

  I approached the living plant to test whether the chemicals from crostamination affected its vigour. The flowers shook as usual, but they didn't release nearly as much pollen as yesterday. That gave me an idea. I headed back inside for scissors, a mask, gloves, and a ziplock bag.

  First, I used my [Torch] to sever the vines from the second old root in my backyard. It was still a labour-intensive process, and I had to crank up the heat to cut through them. The intensity made me lightheaded, but increasing the flame was far easier than trying to decrease it.

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  Once all the vines were separated, I took a deep breath and approached the now-listless plant. Using large kitchen scissors, I cut off a few of the flowers, wrapped them carefully in a paper towel, and sealed them in the ziplock bag. I wasn't sure if I'd ever use them or if they'd just rot, but their properties seemed interesting enough to preserve.

  "Emm, Chloe," I heard Amanda's voice from behind. "What are you doing?"

  The new growth was still trying to reel me in with its small, bright-green runners, but it wasn't nearly strong enough to move an adult human. Still, I stepped back carefully, tearing through the shoots wrapped around my legs. Only then did I turn to Amanda. She looked exhausted, still in her pyjamas, with messy hair and puffy circles under her eyes.

  "Scientific experiment," I said. "How much time do we have before your kids wake up?"

  "Maybe an hour. Why?"

  I explained my theory to her: that the cards we received were influenced by our actions and experiences before the deal. We had a plant, half a bottle of herbicide, and a plan: put her through a strenuous workout right before she killed the root. I wanted to test whether diverse physical experiences might trigger a movement card. The [Leap] had saved my life more than once, and I wanted her to have the same advantage.

  I focused the workout on variety. This wasn't about teaching proper form, and I gave her all the braces I had: knees, ankles, lower back, and elbows. The last thing we needed was a sprained ankle.

  Amanda had good endurance, their family went on regular hikes together. After forty-five minutes, I handed her a mask and the herbicide to pour onto the plant.

  Afterward, we sat in Amanda's kitchen drinking coffee I brought from my house with hot water from the thermos I'd filled last night.

  "Thank you for doing all this for me," Amanda said.

  I nodded, warming my hands on the coffee mug.

  "If you see an image of cards blocking your vision, let me know. The system doesn't allow you to actualy see what the card does before you select it. So it might be helpful to brainstorm together."

  Amanda nodded. "We should go through my gardening and hiking equipment. I have a garage full of stuff, but I am looking at it from my own perspective. I would never have guessed to use herbicides to kill those vines. I just assumed the alien monstrosity could not be killed with human chemicals."

  While Amanda helped her children pack their bags and carried everything downstairs, I went through their garage, looking for useful things she could have missed.

  We could have used much of their gear: tents, sleeping bags, foldable chairs. But taking them meant more bulk and weight, and only two of us could carry things. I managed to find some useful items: a slingshot, a hatchet, rope coils, and water filters. When I brought them into the living room, I walked straight into chaos. Both kids were racing back and forth, dumping armfuls of stuff onto the couch in a growing pile.

  "I told them to choose items that we could take if we have extra space, or we'd come back for them once we find Jeff. Oh, and I think I got the cards you were talking about. I used those hand motions you showed me to close it out. Didn't want to make any choices without running it by you first."

  "That's great. What's the Deal?"

  Both children came tumbling down the stairs. The girl was lugging an encyclopedia nearly as big as her torso, something about wildlife and plants. The boy had a box of toys that he dropped onto the couch with a disturbing clank.

  "Oh, that's mine!" The girl shouted, picking up a slingshot I found.

  "No, it's not. It's Daddy's!" The boy chimed in.

  "Well, I know how to use it, and while Daddy is not here, it's mine!"

  "How about I hold onto this until we meet with your Dad, so that he can decide?" Amanda suggested. "And no running on the stairs."

  The temporary piece was established, and they ran back up.

  "They are very unfazed about what is happening," I commented.

  "We haven't really conveyed how serious this is," Amanda said. "I just told them it's another camping trip, a very long one. And we're meeting up with Jeff because he went ahead to set up camp. But they know they need to keep it down."

  "Amanda, that's not gonna work. The outside is crawling with monsters. They will see them today, guaranteed. What if they think it's all pretend? Like some Disney park or animals at a petting zoo? They need to understand how serious this is. Actually, your daughter should have the slingshot if she knows how to use it."

  "It's difficult to explain to an eight and six-year-old that the world has ended, Chloe. They will see. They are good at following the rules. I will emphasize that they have to stay quiet."

  I didn't like her approach. The kids had ignored her about the stairs the entire time. But I wasn't a mother, and they weren't mine to discipline.

  "So what did you get offered?"

  "[Jack-of-all-Movement], [Mother's Instinct], and [Command Voice]. You want me to describe what they look like?"

  "Yeah, please. And what colour are they?"

  "[Jack-of-all-Movement]'s green, has a sort of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on it. [Mother's Instinct] is green, with a silhouette of a woman shielding a child. [Command Voice] is a blue card with a megaphone."

  "Okay, so [Jack-of-all-Movement] is the card we were hoping for. I'm honestly impressed with the sound of it. It's green, so probably something of a permanent improvement to everything: speed, strength, muscle control. A dream of a boost."

  "Yah, but…"

  "But?"

  "I want to take [Mother's Instinct]. It just feels right, you know."

  "No. Choosing the [Instinct] would be a mistake. Out there, physical survival is your main priority. You need to be able to react, not make devinitions about your children."

  "My main priority is my kids: out there, in here, everywhere. If there is a way for me to make their life safer, I will do it, whatever it takes, and no matter the other options available. You will understand one day…"

  "You put an oxygen mask on yourself first, Amanda," I couldn't hold back a frown settling on my face.

  She stubbornly shook her head, and her gaze unfocused again.

  "Ok, how do I… Oh, I see." Amanda quieted for a moment, reading. "Gain intuitive insights about people's intentions and hidden dangers in your environment directed at your children. You can sense threats before they strike. Provides a brief precognitive warning when your child is about to be ambushed or critically injured."

  "Not sure how useful it will be…"

  "But it is exactly what I need," Amanda said.

  "Cool, let's pack and get going. We've got a rough road ahead." I picked up one of the bags strewn around.

  "I checked the map yesterday. It's only a five-hour walk along the road. And we'll have bikes."

  "And monsters on our heels," I said.

  Why was she always forgetting that important bit?