The Killing Jar (7 page)

SUBTERRANEAN CHICAGO, NORTH AMERICA

AUGUST 7, 2232

“It’s a diode, platinum-alloy with a neon tube,” Mitt droned on as if she cared. All she needed was the spec drawing and location. Everything else was noise.

“It’s the neon we need. I can fabricate the rest from recycled bits, but I can’t manufacture neon.” He sounded guilty about it.

Mitt handed over the image of a red plastic cap with two wires emitted from either side. “In here,” he pointed to the red cap. “Neon’s pretty rare these days. One little bit will last us five or six centuries.”

The elderly man was thin enough to get knocked over with a sneeze. His worn clothes hung loose on his bony frame. Mable couldn’t help but wonder how long the Root would have service of its greatest mind.

At the bottom of the page, Mable caught sight of where she would find the diode: the Aon Center.

Mable smiled despite how Mitt continued to describe the intricacies of the tiny item. It was her fourth to be taken from the ruined remnants of the once thriving offices.

But all skyscrapers had been abandoned and the upper floors had been cut in favor of the dome that protected the city from the haze. At least, according to Mitt.

An in and out job for an item no larger than her fingertip. Mable couldn’t ask for better, a dream job.

Mere seconds after she thanked Mitt, she’d already made up her mind and started on her way back to her quarters.

It was little more than the carved-out remnants of a cave, but the two teens had softened it up as best they could. They’d hung colored fabrics over the stone walls, interesting items on each ledge large enough to fit one. Hadley insisted on hanging up several of Mable’s drawings, though she never would have done it herself. That was one of the perks of living with Hadley.

It was the best home Mable had ever known.

She was fully prepared to fight to keep it.

When Mable arrived in the cave, she found Hadley with a basket of half-folded laundry on the bed. “There you are.”

“What?” Mable offloaded her bag onto her cushioned cot piled high with comfy blankets.

“I saw Rowen in the market. At least an hour ago. He looked pissed. Did you finally beat him?” Hadley ditched her laundry and crawled over on all fours to sit on the floor beside Mable’s cot.

“Ha, I wish,” she replied and untied her boot laces.

Hadley’s features twisted in confusion. “Then what?”

“He asked me to leave with him.”

“Oh my god!” Hadley’s hands leapt to cover her mouth. “You are not serious!” Then she realized. “Oh my god, Mable! You said no?! What the hell is wrong with you? You better get some of that before someone else does!”

Mable couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her personal tragedies, Hadley was a heap of fun. Mable loved having her around. “What? No. It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Yeah, but it could be.” It wasn’t Hadley’s first attempt to thrust her at Rowen, the ‘tall-dark-and-handsome dreamboat’.

But it couldn’t be like that with Rowen, or any man. Mable gave up that sort of thing a long time ago. She flopped down onto her bed beside her bag, her arms sprawled across the sheets.

“Ugh, you’re so difficult! Why don’t you want him? He’s gorgeous, and all those muscles. He’s obviously in love with you.”

“You don’t know that.” Denial was always the best course of action.

“Come on! I don’t know why you can’t at least be open to it. It’s not like you have to marry him.”

Mable shivered at the word. She didn’t want to marry anyone. Not Rowen. Not Conner. None of them. Instead, she answered, “You know why.”

“”Yeah, yeah. Love is crooked. Spare me the speech.” Hadley rolled her eyes.

“Hey, that’s an important life lesson I had to learn the hard way. You should be glad I’m so cynical.”

“Uh yeah, okay. You may be older than me but that doesn’t mean I don’t know a love-sick puppy when I see one.”

“I’m so telling him you called him a puppy!” Mable clutched her belly and hooted laughter until it rang through their stone room.

“Oh, no, no. Don’t! You better not!” Hadley begged between laughs.

After years of jumping from city to city, Mable finally found where she belonged. There were only a few more things to work out. Then both she and Hadley could have a safe, peaceful home in the Root for the rest of their lives.

Tiring of talk of Rowen, Mable spilled the beans on her plan for Hadley. “I think you should come on this job—”

Hadley leapt into the air like a poodle and flew at Mable with the force of an avalanche.

“—with me,” she managed to squeak out of Hadley’s iron grip.

“Think so? Where are we going? When do we leave? Can I wear your bag?”

Mable’s hand reflexively covered the worn cloth bag where it sat on her bed. “We’re going to the Aon Center, we leave at nightfall, and no, we’ll get you your own bag.”

“Oh my god! I have so much to do! What am I going to wear? How long do I have?”

Mable erupted into more laughs at the excited girl who darted across the room and collected items for her first excursion into the light in over a year.

For Mable, it was a much-needed escape. Pulled between Katherine and Rowen with no solution in sight, she was ready for another break from the Root.

At the moment, Mable only needed to focus on Hadley, getting into the Aon Center and retrieving the neon-filled diode without getting caught.

She’d figure out the rest when she got back.

LUNA COLONY

AUGUST 7, 2232

Blinding sun shone through the transparent greenhouse panels, a little too bright for comfort, but that’s what the plants needed. That was his job now, taking care of others.

Abraham only hoped he could be good at it.

He squeezed the trigger of the spray bottle and spritzed the row of herbs.

“The berries are coming in nicely.” Charlene’s delicate hands traced over the bright red fruits as if she treasured them. “We couldn’t get any to grow for the last three seasons.”

Abraham nodded and realized the sprayer was still as his colony partner admired his work. Instead of responding, he continued applying a light mist to the blueberries before moving on to the grape vines.

Charlene dipped about the greenhouse, running her hands over each leaf and stem, a deep green jumpsuit clinging to her curves as she moved.

Abraham tried to concentrate on the plants, the food they would need over the next few months, the mouths they would feed with his work.

“You really like all these plants, don’t you?” Charlene’s palm smoothed over a ruffled corn leaf before she headed toward him.

“Yes,” he admitted without pausing his misting motion.

“You don’t really talk much, do you?” This time, Charlene settled herself between Abraham and the box that held the grape vines.

Her body was warm in the cool air. Her hair smelled sweeter than the fruits.

Abraham swallowed hard and lowered the sprayer. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so close to another person. Then again, he couldn’t recall most of his life.

“Don’t have much to say I guess.” Abraham had nothing, no memories, no experiences to share.

Charlene’s bright eyes dimmed as she put on a decided frown and crossed her arms.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked after her expression.

“I just—I thought you’d warm up someday.” She darted away, her arms still crossed as she moved to the greenhouse door.

In an instant, she rotated back around, her hands animated as she shouted her frustrations. “There’s just the two of us. No one else will come for at least year, maybe longer, maybe forever. We’re the only adults with a dozen kids, and you won’t talk to me!”

When he only marveled at her display, she flapped her hands against her thighs and grunted in annoyance. “Seriously? You have
nothing
to say to me? You can’t tell me even one thing about yourself?”

It was the same question he’d struggled over since arriving on the colony two months before. He was in his late twenties. He had light blonde hair and was taller than anyone he’d met since—since he could remember anything. He was good with his hands, good with plants. He liked to look out the wide windows, soaking in the view the distant sun and the crimson soil that spread out in every direction. Abraham knew what he was now.

But that was all.

Everything Abraham knew about himself, he had learned in the last two months. He remembered arriving to the modest landing unit, the first time he saw the metal and plastic facility on the moon’s surface, the first time he met Charlene. He remembered the shuttle, departing a crowded station in Miami with a small child in tow, the last child for their meager moon colony, the one Charlene called Luna.

But before that, nothing. Nothing he could recall. Nothing he could share. Nothing she wanted to hear.

As much as she frowned and stomped, slamming the greenhouse door as she returned to the napping children, Abraham knew it was him that was most disappointed.

He’d lost twenty-seven years, after all.

In the silence of the greenhouse, only his sprayer and his projects kept him company. Composted soil to be spread amongst the plant boxes. A leak in the irrigation system to be repaired. Lastly, a few baskets of tomatoes, lettuce, and beans to be collected and added to their stores.

Two hours of quiet, left to his thoughts, his questions.

Abraham returned to the kitchen and started on the meal they would eat for dinner, and some preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch—something Charlene could prepare without his assistance. He used the scale to measure the appropriate quantity of potatoes to feed the group. They’d each get enough to support them nutritionally without wasting their resources. He was completely responsible for the longevity of their colony.

It was a lot of pressure and even more work, but Abraham enjoyed his time in the kitchen. His hands knew what to do. He enjoyed the flavors and smells of his work. They were new to him each time. And he liked providing for the children and Charlene. He liked being dependable for them.

At dinner, Charlene was bubbly with the children as always, as if he hadn’t disappointed her hours before. As if he wouldn’t continue disappointing her.

“Can I have more pasta, please, Charlie?” Ellicot held up his scraped-clean plate. At five, he was oldest boy in the colony, but a head shorter than some of the girls.

“Charlie, if people come from Earth and not the moon, how did we get on the moon?” asked Renner.

“We took shuttles, big metal shuttles from Earth that flew through space!” Alana, the oldest child in their group, was excited to know the answer. She was one of the few that could remember arriving at Luna.

Renner, the four-year old with deep olive skin and hazel eyes squealed, “I wanna go on a shuttle!” The entire group laughed.

Dinner was by far the best part of Abraham’s day. Surrounded by small voices with big personalities, he had the rare opportunity to feel the fullness of his life, rather than the emptiness.

“Let’s make sure to thank Abraham for making our dinner,” Charlene said as she rounded the table and offered up heaping spoonfuls to those that wanted more.

“Thank you, Abraham,” they recited, a monotonous drone compared to their earlier excitement.

If he had to guess, he would think they were scared of him. He just didn’t know why.

“Tank you, Aba-ham.” The voice next to him belonged to Kellan, an incredibly bright two-year old with sweet blonde curls. As fate would have it, Kellan was his oldest friend in this new life, the child he escorted from Earth.

“You’re welcome,” Abraham responded, more than a little impressed such a young child could have already mastered a concept like manners. Then again, Charlene was fantastic with the children.

“I tried a new way of cooking the zucchini. Do you like it?” Abraham didn’t know how much experience he had with the culinary arts, but he enjoyed keeping his hands busy and his mind off his missing past.

Kellan only smiled through his food, oil glistening on his lips and cheeks.

Abraham laughed at the adorable boy and wondered for the thousandth time how such wonderful kids could end up in a prototype moon colony, the first of its kind.

Abraham accepted he had clearly done something horrible to deserve such a fate, something worthy of forgetting altogether, but surely young children could have done nothing to deserve this exile. It didn’t seem fair.

“Eat up, Kellan,” Charlene told him with a hand through his tousled curls. “Story time in thirty.”

There was no doubt Charlene’s rigorous schedule was responsible for the peacefulness of their artificial home, each child knowing the plan for the day. It was a system that worked.

Except for Abraham. He could grow food, fix problems, and maintain the compound, but he was poor company for her. One more thing to figure out.

A violent cough emerged from Alana, their oldest charge, a dark-skinned girl with a knack for reading. Charlene was beside her in an instant, a calming hand on the girl’s back. Abraham didn’t miss Charlene’s intense gaze as she led Alana to the girls’ room to change to bed clothes for story time.

By the time he finished cleaning the stark metal area that sufficed as their kitchen, the dozen kids were seated on a bright area of carpet listening to Charlene reading from her tablet, Kellan seated on her lap.

Abraham took his usual seat against the back wall, though this time someone had placed a pillow in the spot. He slid down, thankful for the soft fabric between his back and the metal. He reminded himself to thank Charlene.

Only a few pages later, Kellan peeled himself from Charlene’s slender legs, navigated the carpet of enraptured children, and plopped into Abraham’s lap.

While he knew it was wrong, Abraham liked Kellan best. Ellicot was bright in math and Calla was helpful with chores around the colony, but Kellan seemed to understand Abraham in a way no one else could.

Kellan, too, had a quiet way.

Charlene’s easy cadence captivated her unlikely audience, children from vastly different backgrounds and cultures clad in matching royal blue jumpsuits.

More than a few kids groaned at the end of their reading time but nonetheless pushed off toward their beds.

It was then Abraham realized Kellan had fallen asleep against his arm, tiny shoulders moving in the easy rhythm of sleep.

Charlene helped motivate the stragglers as she made her way over. “I think he likes you,” she said as she reached for the toddler.

“It’s all right. I’ve got him.” With a near absence of grace, Abraham managed to get to standing without waking the boy. Supported by only his arms, the boy looked tiny, such a little thing.

It hurt his heart to know the boy would live his life in their lunar compound, never knowing of the world beyond, all for the sake of science, though Abraham didn’t know what they hoped to learn. He only knew it was a terrible tragedy, that each child was like him—a prisoner in space with no idea of the life they’d never know.

Then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better to never know what else the universe could offer them.

Maybe someone robbed him of his life to save him from that.

Abraham lowered the sleeping toddler into his bed in the boys’ room and covered him with a thin blanket up to his chin. He admired him one last time before he moved on to the older boys, getting them into bed and pulling up their blankets. Sander and Berk were already asleep by the time he got to them.

“Good night, sleep tight, see you when the sun is bright.”

“Good night,” replied Ellicot, his voice already relaxing.

Last, he turned out the lights and closed the door, filling the corridor with evening quiet.

On the far side, Charlene walked from the girls’ room back toward the kitchen, though she stopped to wait for him.

“Why do you always say that?” she asked.

“I don’t know. What are you supposed to say?” Abraham worried that had unknowingly violated some aspect of her routine.

Charlene pursed her lips and stomped down the corridor. “I was just curious. I should have known you wouldn’t tell me,” she huffed as she trailed away.

Abraham sighed. This was going to be a long rest of his life.