Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [122]
They were led down the spiral stairwell. It opened into a rock-hewn chamber. Jarrod frowned. This was new. The stone walls were damp, the air musty. Jarrod kept his heart rate steady as they approached a room with no windows and only a single door. They were directed to enter and sit with their backs to the wall. One of the guards dumped their packs and weapons on the ground, tipping the contents into a pile.
‘Watch it,’ Shane said when his low whistle and flute clattered to the floor.
The guard picked up the instruments and examined them one at a time. He tossed the whistle back into the pile and pocketed the flute.
‘You’ll not be taking that!’ Shane stood up; the guard immediately knocked him down.
‘What’s the problem?’ the guard asked. ‘You think you’ll ever be playing music again?’ The others laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky if you live out the night.’
Shane collapsed, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.
EARTH & GAELA—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 25
‘You like the protein packets, do you?’ Everett laughed at the animal as it gnawed into the brown squares of amino acid compounds, ignoring the phtyo-fructos balls.
It’d been tricky working out what to feed the little guy, and he still wasn’t sure if he was giving him ‘dog candy’ or the nutrients his body needed for growth. He’d established the animal was young and yet to reach maturation—the scan of his long bones revealing open growth plates—but he couldn’t find any reference to dietary requirements in the public archives. No point drawing attention by searching the historical records for the care and feeding of canis familiaris. Trial and error would have to do.
‘You want more, Canie?’ He patted the dog. ‘Last time I fed you that much, you chucked it all back up, remember?’ Everett grinned as the animal wagged his tail and yipped.
The semiotics were obvious, once you observed the behaviour long enough, though he found it astounding how much of his own words seemed to be interpreted by the creature. Was it tone of voice, body language, or was it something else? Everett stroked the soft fur on top of the dog’s head. There was so much joy there. Want more food? The tail wags. Chase the ball? Yips and barks. Have a rest? Whatever you say. It seemed to Everett that the canine’s brain was hard-wired for happiness—something humans lacked. Why hadn’t that been appreciated before the exterminations?
‘I’m going to have to buy a parkland permit now, and sneak you out of here. You’ll be needing exercise, won’t you?’
Canie yipped again and raced to the door. Everett shook his head and punched in his order, checking credits. He purchased a month’s worth of daily excursions. It wouldn’t be questioned, though he would have to explain to Cryo why he couldn’t find a requisitions order for the revival. Perhaps he could fake his return to the vat. Now that he was getting to know Canie, he’d not be keen to hand him back over to Labs. The little guy wasn’t just a clue to his Jane Doe any more. He was starting to feel familiar, like a companion. It was delightful—a new feeling for Everett—and he didn’t want to let him go. ‘Come on with you now, Canie. Into the backpack. We’re going for a little outing.’
Canie ran in circles, yipping as Everett scooped him up. He allowed himself to be smuggled out in the pack as if he knew stealth was necessary, the reward well worth it.
Grayson sat under the bare tree. The limbs were brittle, like long bony fingers reaching skyward. The air was chilly and left a metallic taste on his tongue. Nothing stirred in this place, nothing but the rise and fall of his chest—and the stranger who appeared on the path below. Grayson hooded his eyes, mindful not to move or attract attention. This was the first person he’d seen in this deadwood-rotten world, and although a thrill welled up in him at spotting another being, he chose caution over expression. The young man seemed agitated, out of place. He wasn’t dressed for