The Cloud Seeders by Zerndt James

Author:Zerndt, James [Zerndt, James]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: fiction
Published: 2014-01-12T06:00:00+00:00

Colony of One

i am covered in death.

The others will soon come

and carry me away on their backs,

dump my segmented carcass

along with the others

on a heap of black bullet bones.

i’ve never met the queen.

Who’s to say she even exists?

9 Can You Hear the Eco?

When Twink and I get back from another day at the well, the note I left in the morning is still lying on Jerusha’s sleeping bag. I drew a picture of our cloud, Betsy, and the words Olive Juice! across the bottom. Now, inside the cartoon cloud, in Jerusha’s chicken-scratch, are the words I ate you!

Cheesy, I know.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an Unforgivable of some sort.

Probably should be.

Twink and I are about to see if Jerusha and Dustin went to the hot springs when we see a crowd gathering outside the log cabin. A reconnaissance has just returned and they’re busy unloading their spoils. They look like hunters, their cans of food scattered like tin pelts across the picnic tables. Twink, when he sees them, nearly breaks into a run to greet them.

Jerusha and Dustin are there, too, both of them looking a bit less enthused than everybody else. And Cyndi’s there, of course, stitched right to Dustin’s side.

“Hailing the conquering heroes?”

“Nah,” Jerusha says. “We’re more interested in the fluffy kind of hero.”

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Cyndi says. “It’s bad luck to talk about clouds. Everybody knows that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dustin tells her. “Our luck’s already crap.”

Cyndi scoots away from him. “Your luck is—,” she starts to say but stops.

“Our luck is what?” Dustin says.

“Nothing,” Cyndi says. “I’m bored. You want to go to my tent, practice Star Wars some more?”

Dustin shrugs, something he’s becoming an expert at, and gets up to follow her.

I don’t want to know what “practice Star Wars” might mean.

I tell Dustin to meet us back at the tent before dinner and he rolls his eyes, says, “Yes, sir.”

When they leave, Jerusha gives me a mischievous smile, says, “Looks like it’s just you, me, and Betsy.”

“Run or walk back to the tent?”

“Walk,” Jerusha says. “I want to get to know Betsy a little before she leaves.”

“Betsy’s fat,” I say.

“Betsy’s big-boned.”

“And lonely.”

“Definitely lonely,” Jerusha says. “Poor Betsy.”

“Should we invite her into the tent?”

“I don’t think she’d be comfortable.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t think clouds get along with steam.”

“Can we pretend you didn’t just say that?”

“Forgotten,” I say and focus all my energy on maintaining a stroll.

*

Another miracle happens.

Only this time it lasts a bit longer and afterwards Jerusha has this big, goofy grin plastered all over her face.

With my body still humming, I poke my head out of the tent, check to see if Betsy’s still hanging around. She’s hasn’t been scared off yet, so I climb out, remove the tent’s dome. When I climb back in, Jerusha has my Mom’s book propped open on a pillow.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Dustin said he was finished with it.”

“Finished?”

“Not finished like that. I think he just wanted me to read them.”

“It’s all he has of her now.

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