Defiant: Quantic Dreams Book 2 by Elizabeth McLaughlin (reading list txt) 📗

“No. It’d be great, but I think I’d have a hoard of starving colonists on my hands far before then. What I really need is a plow.”

I stroked my beard for a moment and jumped a little when I felt how long it had gotten. Not being allowed in the shelter meant that my life was devoid of mirrors these days. I could risk a shave without one but I didn’t want to end up looking like a half-shorn goat. It was better to risk looking a couple years older than I was.

“We could make one.”

“Dad.” Fiona pushed herself up on her arms and glared at me. “Didn’t we just discuss that the 3D printers are occupied?”

“I don’t mean with a 3D printer. I mean the old fashioned way. Why couldn’t we smelt one? There are plenty of metal scraps around. We just need to make a couple of molds. Most of the stuff we’ve got can be easily melted over a fire. Pour the molds and knit them together at the seam…no reason it couldn’t work!”

“I’d need a lot of metal.”

“Ask around. I think we have it. Even if we don’t, you’ll find plenty of folks eager to give up their metallic possessions to fill their bellies. I’m not the only one who is sick of living on rations.”

“Hell, that just might work. Thanks! Hey…do you mind if I take the credit for this one? I’ve had a little trouble showing people that I can hack it since we left the simulation. I’d like the chance to be the hero of the day, if it’s all right with you.”

I hugged her. “Kid, that’s what parents are for. Your mother would have been so proud of everything you’ve done already, you know that, right?”

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah. I really wish she could be out here with us, you know? I wish she could have seen the sun again.”

I felt a swell of sadness. “In a way, she is. Let’s give her a good show, shall we?” I bid her goodbye and let her present the idea to the relevant people.

Fiona had gained a certain gravitas of her own since coming to live outside. Those who had survived the sickness held a certain mystique around them. Most of us hadn’t seen a sickness more serious than a cold in our entire lives. Coming out of the simulation to watch several hundred people suffocate on their own body fluids was traumatizing. As with all monsters, this one was starting to grow into legend. To be infected and not just recover, but recover fully, made you something special. Of course it was just sheer luck, but I wasn’t about to knock it. It was a chance for my daughter to regain a foothold within her community, perhaps to advance within it.

To supplement our diet of spuds with a side of spuds, I asked Marcus to accompany me on some hunting trips. We hadn’t found anything bigger than the squirrel-like animals that were common to the brushy bushes. With the help of an outgoing non-binary person whose acquaintance I had only really made after the sickness had passed, I learned to use the long-stemmed plants and grass to weave baskets. They showed me that these could be anchored in the path of the stream to catch the small fish that swam upriver. Together we devised a way to catch the crabs I had come to love, too. Using a utility spade, we dug ring-shaped holes a hundred feet away from each other just into the grass that led to the stream. On the platform that remained in the middle, the offal from caught game or cleaned guts from fish would be placed. Lightweight pieces of plastic were used to bridge the gap from the grass to the platform. Once the crabs stepped onto the plastic eager for their free meal, they would be deposited into the hole for later collection.

I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

To celebrate our newfound hunting strategy, a feast of sorts was planned for that evening. There wasn’t nearly enough meat to feed the couple hundred already present so no one protested when the scarce delicacies were served to the oldest among us. I was offered a portion but declined, much to the protesting of my stomach and insistence of my pride. I was certainly one of the oldest people in the shelter, but by no means was I about to admit it. Let the real old timers get the best; their days out here were numbered. It was only fair to have them enjoy themselves while they could.

Being active every day had strengthened my muscles but we were still running on rationed food. The caloric deficit meant that I was far leaner than when we lived in the shelter and habit tugged at me to help myself to as much food as I wanted. Spoiled thing. I hoped we could get back to that someday. In the mean time, I had to get used to looking like a string bean.

Keeping busy was the key to sanity, and there were as few moments of rest as you wanted. I decided that the best way to win back favor in the community was to make myself as useful as possible. That meant volunteering for every job, no matter how dirty or tedious. Digging out latrines, putting up tents and shelters, even planting potatoes by hand while Fiona and her team gathered the necessary materials to make a plow-each task gave me new and interesting knowledge. It was strange. I always thought myself an everyday man, somebody who fit in. The truth was that in unplugging the simulation and destroying Gabriel’s hold over the shelter had only served to separate me from everyone. I had been reviled by some, loved by others. Even more than that, most did not know me. Their only exposure to me had been never-ending crisis. Getting