Earth Thirst (The Arcadian Conflict) - By Mark Teppo Page 0,37

too much. “It's not broken,” I announce, wiggling her foot. “We can soak it in the water; that'll help bring the swelling down.” I turn toward the creek, meaning to look for a good place for her to perch for a few minutes, but her gasp brings me around.

“Your back,” she says.

“It's fine,” I lie. I have no idea what she sees, but I can guess. There is no pain, which means I've already blocked out the nerve endings, leaving them to die in isolation. The flesh is necrotic, certainly, and given the way my shirt clings to me, I'm sure the melted slurry of skin and fabric isn't pleasant to look at.

“No, it's not fine,” she argues. Her hands flutter as she talks. “I may be as high as a kite, but I know no one can run that fast—for that long. I saw you throw the microwave at that man like it was a… an empty milk carton. And—” Her hands start to flutter in the direction of my back.

“There's nothing to do about it now,” I tell her. “Try not to think about it. I'm trying not to.”

Her gaze returns to the pistol, and I know she's looking at the elongated barrel, and the bulbous shape attached to the back. It's a CO2 pistol—elegant in a way, but cumbersome in many others. The grip of the gun contains the CO2 cartridge, and there's a bulbous clump on the back of the gun where the hammer normally would be. I find the seal on the top and pop the blister open with my thumb. I shake out several of the pellets on the ground, unwilling to even touch them, and Mere leans over to pick one up. “What is it?” she asks, rolling the yellow-green pellet between her fingers.

I reseal the hopper, and point the pistol at a clump of weeds growing around a small rock. When I pull the trigger, compressed air forces one of the pellets out of the barrel with a hollow pop. The pellet hits the rock, breaks, and its contents spatter on the weeds, which all but burst into flame for as quickly as they shrivel and blacken.

“Defoliant,” I say.

“Weed killer?” She stares at the blackened weeds. “But it never works that fast.”

“You're thinking of herbicides which are a poison. Plants don't come back with herbicides. Defoliants are, like the name, meant to clear cover as quickly as possible. Agent Orange, for example.”

She focuses on the tiny pellet between her fingers, her face moving through an exaggerated series of expressions. “This is Agent Orange?”

I offer her a bitter laugh. “No, this is much, much stronger.”

She shudders and drops the pellet. “And it works on human flesh too.”

“I doubt it,” I say. Her head swivels around to look at me, and her pupils are still too large. I crawl over to the damp rock, and being careful to not touch any of the chemical stain, I pull it out of the ground. “Touch it,” I say when I return with the chemical-stained rock.

“What?” She tries to bat my arm away. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Unfortunately, I don't think I am,” I say. “Please. Touch it.”

“I'm not going to touch it.”

I grab her hand and force it against the rock. She shrieks and pulls away, freeing herself from my now-loose grip. She tries to slap me with her other hand and I take the blow on my shoulder as I throw the rock away. It bounces into the underbrush where its taint can only hurt other plants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she yells.

“Do you feel anything?”

She slaps at me again as I repeat my question. The words finally penetrate her outrage and she blinks several times before she looks down at her hand. “No,” she says. With a shudder, she wipes her hand on a nearby patch of grass and, as we watch, the stalks brown and wither. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “What is it?”

“The perfect weapon,” I say.

It all makes sense now. The lure of the whaling fleet, the aerosol dispersion trap on the processing boat, Secutores and their obvious watchers, the pellet guns: this has all been a test environment set up by whoever is funding Kyodo Kujira.

They've finally figured out a way to kill us.

FOURTEEN

The trees are alight with the fire of dawn by the time we get back to my hotel, and Mere is asleep before I can cover her with a blanket. I lie down next