Michael Siemsen - Exigency

“No, no, I’m fine. How about you?”

“Me? I have no issues at all. I was lucky… well, being in the tent…” She sighed, feeling guilty once more for making him sleep outside the tent. Well, she hadn’t made him, but by telling him he could have the tent to himself, and then him insisting she keep it—she knew it was her fault he was injured. “The parasites only got to you because I didn’t want to share a bunk.”

John was quiet a moment, tentatively feeling around inside his survival bag. She watched the lump of his hand inspect his side, move down to the left thigh, and then the hand appeared at his neck, gently probing the shiny glaze of sealant she’d sprayed on all of the wounds. He turned his head on the fluffy coat she’d bundled into a pillow for him, and peered up at her.

“I meant, have you been able to… well… purge? ”

Minnie laughed and slapped a hand over her mouth. His expression suggested she looked like a looner, but it was just so inexplicably great to hear John being John again. “Funny you should mention that. Been handling that business for a while now. Even handled one just a couple hours ago. Feel like a new woman.”

He cracked a small smile, then resumed the professional, mature tone. “How’s the regularity been? Since the first?”

She shook her head, amused by the preoccupation. “Well, that was only just a few days ago.”

“Wow. So—”

“Hey, I know it’s your favorite subject matter, but we’re done with this topic, boss.” She grinned and patted his arm. “Back to your wounds. Sensors show you’ve regrown about ten percent of the lost tissue. In terms of mobility, it looks like your right calf is still pretty much useless. I don’t see that changing without some kind of implant. If Pablo was still around, he might have had better ideas.” She watched his face slowly sober. Perhaps she wasn’t relaying this news with the best bedside manner, but he already knew most of this, so it shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise. “As for the ribcage, I honestly don’t know how that’s going to work out. It worries me more than any of the other ones. If not for the sealant on there, the bones would still be exposed.”

John blinked purposefully a few times in a row, licked his lips, and tried to speak. “Min—” He grimaced as he tried to swallow. Minnie stuck a straw in his mouth and he drew a few pained gulps of water. “Thanks… Minerva, but what… what exactly happened to me?”

He didn’t remember.

It was all gone.

Minnie spent the following hour recounting the events of the past weeks. John seemed to gradually stow away his surprise and fear, thanking her at the end for everything she’d done to save his life.

Following an uneasy silence, while John peered under a couple of his bandages, Minnie decided to leave him alone with his thoughts and venture out to hunt.

“I’ll keep an eye on you in mapping,” he said as she left.

In the valley, she came across a pair of bunnies nibbling at a root bulb they’d dug out. With the bunnies in her pocket, she inspected the root. Like most non-fungi plants on Epsy, the seeds grew from roots, acting as both fruit and storage organ, and where they were most accessible to seed-spreading helper animals. This one was a dark aqua hue, had the exterior texture of a carrot, and a squishy tomatoey pulp inside. She unearthed a few that hadn’t been nibbled, and brought them back to the cave.

Despite her insistence that he rest, John lay on his side and used one hand to help rig up a rotisserie using the heater and some IR emitters.

After a chemical analysis, it turned out that the root’s outer crust was both edible and safe, while the pulp and seeds were human incomp . The nontoxic part tasted like a pickled shallot or onion. Unimpressed with their “vegetables,” they moved on to the meat. Both agreed that the bunnies, indeed, tasted like chicken.

Minnie setup a drying rack to preserve what they hadn’t eaten. Bunny jerky would soon join their expanding diet.

As they fell asleep, cave entrance moaning with the wind, Minnie told John she still planned to track down Ish. Bring her back if she found her alive. John didn’t argue. He even suggested a method of pinpointing Ish’s skimmer even if it was completely shut down.

The next day would see no search expedition. The storm had arrived.

Neither had appreciated the power of Epsy’s major storms. Viewed from above and through sensors, sure, many were stronger than Earth hurricanes, but to experience one first hand for forty straight hours, Minnie and John shared a new respect for Epsy’s resilient inhabitants.

On the second night, after eating, John put on his earnest face. “How you doing up here?” He tapped the side of his head. “Almost three weeks.”

Minnie looked to her eyebrows, as if conducting a visual inspection. “Looking good!” No amusement in John’s expression. She exhaled. “Honest, not even a hint. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, as each day passed. Maybe my broke got fixed in the metabed on the way here. Or what if every year that went by on meds—years without a single episode—just gave the crazy glands time to heal? Nature tends to fix itself when given time.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way. What if the neurotoxins from the cave were keeping you in check? Just delaying. You might be on the verge.”

Minnie shrugged. “Could be. Or I’m cured. Time will tell. Leave it, okay? I’ll let you know if anything even slightly zany pops into my head.”

The skies cleared on the third day. Minnie set up her skimmer’s onboard scanners while John walked her through the steps from the cave.

By midday, Minnie was flying toward the other skimmer’s reactor power signature. Observing that her pathway followed along the curving course of a well-known river, Minnie was keenly aware that this route led directly to the area’s largest Hynka village.

JOHN: If we haven’t already, we’re going to lose DC soon.

MINNIE: Yeah, any second.

JOHN: I know I said it already, but if it looks like you’ll be in any danger whatsoever, abort and come back. Do not land that skimmer.

MINNIE: I know. Me and it are your only way out of this giant butt. I won’t be hasty.

JOHN: It’s not just for me. And it’s an order, understand?

Ugh. Old John back in action.

Minnie ignore his last message and, a few seconds later, saw the DC icon flash and break in two, letting her know she’d traveled out of range. Below her, the landscape shifted to an oddly beautiful plain of knobby green waves, like a flash-frozen ocean. She dropped to 10m, gliding across the surface, exhilarated. Upon closer inspection, the lumpy topography appeared to be ancient lava flow coated in lichen moss.

If not for deadly native inhabitants and another human life dependent on her for survival, she’d love to set out exploring this land from coast to coast. So much of it was entirely different from Threck Country. She didn’t know why that surprised her. The Threck lived in the geographical equivalent of New Zealand, while the Hynka had a landmass the size of Eurasia to call home. Mountain ranges to canyons, deserts and great lakes. “What a waste,” had been Minnie’s not-so-quiet original observation, especially given the fact that the Hynka stuck to these premiere upper-middle latitudes.

More fungal forestland approached up ahead, and Minnie returned to her higher elevation. The instant she passed over an especially tall stand of epsequoias, Minnie realized she’d arrived. Throngs of Hynka filled the trampled, near-barren land, moving about like worker ants without the lines. Hundreds carried water in hollowed-out shroom stalks to a vast “well” in the center of the village, while hundreds more streamed in from the forest with arms full of large nut pods, bundles of stringy black leaves, bunnies, and other bounty. Circling over the village, she saw clusters of Hynka in the river catching jellies with their bare hands.