H Romero - The Girl Who's Made of Leaves - Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction

Rose doesn’t want to be afraid, but she’s very afraid.

“The blood is very interesting, there is an element I’ve only seen in the pediatric, less mutated population. It’s thick and sticky like syrup,” says Shaw.

“It’s red, that’s where the similarity ends. There’re some human components remaining, but it’s being replaced with something else. Gradually acclimating the host’s body to the mutation,” says Leo.

“I figure there’s a plant-component,” says Shaw.

“And, you’d be correct,” says Leo.

“It’s basically sap. The children have a large volume of dissolved sugars and minerals. Sap. There’s also traces of chlorophyll in all the Turned , not just the children. Whatever the Turned are, there’s one indisputable matter. They’re plant-based lifeforms. Or rather, human-plant hybrids.”

They arrive at the lab, and Rose is led to a large chair. The big man tells her to take a seat. It’s so big that she feels it’s swallowing her up. She loves it because it feels soft and comfortable, but it smells like the big man, and so it doesn’t smell too good.

The big man has a metal tray, just like they had at Camp Able, complete with tourniquets and tubes and sharp things to poke into a child.

“Just a pinch now.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it,” Rose says, and she holds out her arm.

The big man slides the needle into the vein. He doesn’t use a glass tube to suck up her blood like they did at Camp Able. Instead, he just drains some of it into a small, round dish.

She tries to focus on something else. Letting her eyes dance across the room, and roam the haphazard layout of pictures, and diagrams, and notes pinned and taped to the walls until she finds a photograph which makes her forget about the stick of the needle. But it’s the image that makes her breath catch in her throat. It’s the flying machine. The same one that Dr. Shaw showed her once before. Except in this photo, it’s not flying anymore. It’s sprawled out on the ground. Most of it is laying in an immense chasm, in which it crashed. The symbols, the ones she couldn’t read before, are taking shape in her brain. They lift off the page to meet her eyes, the alien language finally making sense to her. The words indicate the name of the craft. The best translation in English would be Whorl of Leaves . She opens her mouth, wanting to tell Dr. Shaw about the photo, but the big man says something first.

“There now, we’re done with that.” He wipes her skin with a cotton ball dipped in alcohol and bends her arm for her, to stop the puncture from bleeding. He takes the round dish to the microscope, places some of her blood on a slide, and calls the doctors over to have a look. Then curiously he offers to let her have a look too. She approaches the instrument cautiously. Standing on the tips of her toes, she very carefully gazes into the eyepiece, blinking her eye a few times to focus. She’s gentle and avoids touching the microscope with her hands. She’s never seen her blood up close, like this, before. It’s so interesting. She laughs out loud in the excitement of seeing the blood cells, sluggishly, crossing the slide.

The big man touches the blood smeared on the plate with the tip of a pencil, teeth marks pressed into the soft yellow paint. He pulls the tip away from the glass, and the blood stretches like molasses.

“How close are you to knowing what makes them tick?” says Shaw. “Not just the children, but all of them.”

“What is it you’re really asking?” says Leo.

“What I’m asking is, is there an off button on the things that we can punch at the same time?”

“Ah, great minds… Dr. Shaw. A kill switch… Not that I’ve found yet, no. At least not anything that can be used as a weapon of mass destruction and not take us out with it. I’m thinking whatever the answer is, it’ll entail taking them out as groups. Sorting them out, kind by kind, discovering a common factor which will destroy each unique manifestation. I’m closer to discovering the answer to dealing with the children than any of the others. I know I’m close. I’m very close. The answer is right in front of my nose. I may not be able to see it just yet, but I can smell it. We need to perform some tests on her. I haven’t had the pleasure of working with a living specimen. Of course, unfortunately, we’ll have to eventually perform more invasive testing, I’m afraid.”

Rose, hearing the big man, looks to Dr. Valentine, hoping she won’t let them do anything to hurt her, but Dr. Valentine is a million miles away.

It’s Dr. Shaw who oddly enough moves to stand in between Leo and Rose. “Of course. We can start with the less invasive tests, but nothing too advanced should be done without my knowledge or approval first. “

“Of course, Dr. Shaw, you have my word. I expect you two must be very hungry. You can go to the mess hall and get something to eat. I’ll start working with her.”

The first good thing she’s had to eat in weeks. Bread and beans with a small bit of pork and some old cookies, but Dr. Valentine can’t make herself do more than pick at the food. She doesn’t bother to look up when someone sits across from her.

“What’s going on with you?”

It’s Dr. Shaw, and she’s too tired to care about how she feels about the man.

“You didn’t even so much as flinch when Leo told us what would have to be done with Rose.”

“I can’t stop seeing it.” Still not looking at him, she smashes her beans with the tip of her fork until they’re rendered into a light brown paste.

“What’s “ it ”?”

“The thing you dug out of Lily’s brain.”

Shaw remains quiet, staring at her. She looks up. Her eyes redden. She’s too dehydrated to cry, but she can feel the heat of the absent tears gathering behind her eyes. She expects him to gloat. “And what’s going on with you? I saw you move to stand in front of her.”

“I don’t know. Ever since the satellite base, when she stood in front of me to keep Connors from beating me to a pulp. I just… she’s not like the others.”

“I want to believe that. But what is there left to save?”

“We’ve been through a lot. We are exhausted and hungry. Try to eat. You’ll feel better.”

“When did you start caring about anyone other than yourself?”

“When did you stop caring?”

“I haven’t stopped caring about anything . Especially Rose, but I must come to terms with this, and face indisputable proof. It may not be possible to save her, or anyone else.”

They were quiet for a while. Dr. Shaw finishes his plate and goes back to the serving line for seconds. When he sits down again Dr. Valentine, who has barely managed to eat more than a few bites of her food says, “You were right.”

“About what?”

“I did the right thing. I know it now. Savannah would have been like Rose.” Dr. Valentine’s eyes brim with tears, only a single drop runs down her cheek. She doesn’t even have the strength to wipe it away.

“Rose has done nothing to hurt us. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. She’s shown qualities that only the innocence of a child can. She’s more human than most… including me. You were right, too, you know?”

“What?”

“Rose is different than the others.”

“I’m not sure I can…”

A soldier interrupts Dr. Valentine. “Dr. Shaw? Dr. Valentine?”

“Yes,” they say together.

“Mr. Montgomery requests your presence in the lab.” After delivering the message, the man spins and walks toward the serving line.