Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

I nodded. He led us to two rooms, side-by-side. They contained the bare minimum of furniture — a Metallo-framed bed and a few other bits and pieces I barely noticed. I deposited Vin, now close to walking, on the bed of one of the rooms, and took the other for myself. Where Nondo went, I don’t know; I didn’t even say goodbye. I was asleep before I’d even hit the bed.

The greenery from the garden wound its way into my dreams, with its rich scent and beautiful colors. Even the sounds were there — the shivering leaves chattering gently, whispering gentle messages to me. I woke — I don’t know how much later; it could have been minutes, hours or days — shaken awake by Vin, his big face looming over me, wild eyed.

He was in mid-sentence, speaking fast, “— phrocking Slancol, precious jewel. Mano, you gotta try somma this. Voices like angels, yeah man — and the colors, krig, those colors. Got ‘em from that Pharma room. Krig, man, you were wandering about like nothing in there — like something lost. Thought you’d never make a grab. Got those sharp teeth aching. 123456 — call that secure — I don’t think so.” He cackled with laughter. “Slancol, Vinerol — got them a batch of Adcarad somewhere in back too. I’ll be moving on to them later, so come on, mano, get you somma too. Get a smile on that face. Get a look at the pretty colors, all red, mano, all red, and plenty more to do—”

I thought he’d never shut up, and then he was hauling at my arm: “Plenty there for all, mano. Such sweet stuff. Come help make a little more red—”.

 I pushed him away. “Krig, Vin, let me sleep. I’ve dragged your phrocking half-dead butt all over the city.”

“Sure, sure, you take you your little naptime. Vinnie’ll save you some for after. Plenty red to go round.” He let go of my arm and I slumped back on to the bed, back to sleep.

When I woke again, I woke to silence. Vin had left me two little piles of pills on the table by the bed; one of little red Vinerol, the other white-and-yellow capsules of Slancol. I didn’t want them.

I lay in bed for a bit, savoring the memory of the garden, anticipating the moment when I would see it again. When I would talk to Nondo about the future. I wanted to stay here; I knew that already. Help and learn and discover and share. I reached up to the ceiling in a long, luxurious stretch, then rolled out of bed and on to my feet in a single move.

I padded along the corridor towards the garden. The home was so silent, almost as if nobody lived here. These Olds were quiet. I liked that. I was already smiling before I turned into the garden.

It took me a moment before I realized what was different. The ground wasn’t brown any more, wasn’t scattered with the tiny green shoots of grass. It was red, all red. I didn’t understand at first. Then I saw the bodies. The garden was scattered with the bodies of the Olds. The thin hunched bodies were twisted now with more than age, their limbs distorted and bent. Arms, legs and heads turned in impossible directions, some broken and torn away. Every one of them lay in a pool of deepest red, runnels of blood streaming from each body. My feet felt sticky. I looked down. I stood in a puddle of blood.

“Mano!” A high-pitched yell of excitement echoed around the garden. I couldn’t see him at first. Then I saw a flash of movement between two bushes. Vin pushed between them, grinning widely, his mouth stained with some kind of fruit.

“All ours now! Phrocking magi, mano! Beautiful, beautiful stuff! No way we’re sharin’ with those krigs over the other side of the river. Ours, mano! We’ll live happy here, keep those things seeding and planting, just like the man said. It all made sense, mano, apart from that sharin’ thing. Vin don’t share with nobody! Just his friend, Levo, mano, just his friend Levo. You saved my phrocking life, now I’m savin’ yours. Enough here for two, oh yeah, plenty to go around without those Olds here. I’ve taken care of them for you, mano. Didn’t want you to have to do that.” He was closer to me now. “With that Pharma, enough in this garden to eat, enough in that Pharma to keep us happy — it’s perfect, mano, just perfect. Just you and me!”Closer again.

It wasn’t fruit around his mouth. His pointed teeth were covered in blood. I looked around. At the bodies sprawled across the red-stained garden. Then back at Vin, eyes rolling with drug-induced frenzy. This was what I’d saved him for.

All I had left was the garden. I’d look after it as best I could — do what I’d seen the Olds doing. Stroking the plants, talking to them, just watching them. I could survive for years. Let Vin have the run of the Pharma, keep him calm and happy, if he’d just let me take care of the plants.

I gazed around. The Olds — I’d look after them too. Find a Disposal centre. I’d clean up the mess here; wash the grass clean. There was plenty of water for that. I could make it clean. Afterwards, I wouldn’t need much water, just enough for me and Vin. I could make it last a long time. They had so much, for so few Olds. I wondered what they were collecting the water for.

It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t need water. All I needed was the garden.

~~~

SHONA SNOWDEN writes fantasy and horror for adults and young adults. Many of her short stories have been published online and in print. Originally from Scotland, Shona has also lived in the US and Europe. She is currently based in Australia where she lives with her husband and children, and