Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(81)

Then the ground begins to shift under me. There’s no ignoring it, no denying it. The entire Earth heaves up like it is breathing a huge sigh of exasperation at the humans crawling across it. That first movement is almost gentle.

It is the last gentle thing for a very long time.

With a violent, jarring punch the entire Earth seems to throw me upward against the trash, then throw me down again. Things start to collapse on my head.

From the shouts and agonized wails behind me, I can tell the pursuing Greenshirts aren’t so lucky. One cry is abruptly cut off. Someone shouts for someone named Wolf and gets no answer.

Piteously, one calls for his mother.

I get half of my body out of the wall of trash, and then another mighty heave of the Earth lifts me, and everything, up high and brings us crashing down again. I hear a terrible creak above me and drag myself forward, not even daring to look up. There’s a deafening crash, and a huge beam shifts and pins my leg.

I scream, my cries of pain joining those of the surviving Greenshirts. At first I’m sure my leg must be broken, even severed, it hurts so much. But as I pull, I realize it’s just painfully trapped at the thigh. Not that that’s much better. If the Greenshirts don’t find me, I’ll die a slow death of dehydration . . .

My head is clear of the tangle. The beanstalk forest is just in front of me, the massive tree-like constructs moving gently in the wind.

No, not the wind. Some of the giant bean trees are shifting from the roots up. I watch as the ground buckles, liquifies around a clump of them nearest to me. Then I see in horror what is happening. In slow motion, three of the mechanical behemoths begin to tilt. Slowly, with a grinding, creaking sound, they topple . . . right toward me.

I scream again, begging for help I know will never come, and pull with all my strength, but my leg remains wedged under the beam. With my lips curled back in a primal snarl of fear, and rage against my coming end, I watch the three bean trees gain momentum as they crash toward me. Two of them cross, bouncing and sliding off each other, sending the massive trunks in two different directions. But the third is listing directly toward me.

I want to meet my fate directly, with strength or at the very least with anger, but to my shame I cover my head at the last second. The booming crash deafens me, the sound alone so painful I almost think I’ve been crushed. Instead the weight miraculously lifts from my leg and I instinctively squirm free of the tangle. Only when I’ve crawled breathlessly away do I see that the bean tree fell at just the right angle to seesaw the crushing beam off of my leg.

But it isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Trees are falling all around me. I drag myself to my feet and try to run, but the ground buckles under me, falling away from my feet, and I have to crawl.

The Earth is spitting the artificial trees out, tearing the fake things from her breast and casting them on the ground. Under the ground there are cables and wires, all useless now in the face of the Earth’s own awesome force. Spellbound, on my knees like a supplicant, I watch them fall.

All around me they crash, closer and closer as I desperately try to find my balance on the shifting ground. I try to tuck my feet under me and jump away, but the Earth seems to have turned liquid, as bad as the nanosand in the desert. I flop and flail helplessly, trying to get away as the huge twisted trunk crashes toward me, but I can’t maneuver. I curl my body, and throw my arms over my head. I expected to die tonight, but not like this.

I feel the whoosh of air, hear a crash so loud I can’t hear anything else for a few minutes, as the tree snags on another tree’s vine and lands just a few feet to my side. Another miss! I use the monstrous leaves to pull myself out of the heaving, devouring Earth and on top of the stalk. The shaking has lessened, but the ground around me is like a sea and the trees keep falling. I run, slipping and sliding on the broad gnarled trunks, dodging other beanstalks as they fall.

When the heat of the desert smacks me in the face, I turn behind me, and find a ruin. At least half of the synthetic beanstalks are down. I don’t even want to think what this will mean for Eden. The algae spires and the photosynthetic material impregnated in all the buildings make oxygen, too, but is it enough? Without these beanstalks will Eden suffocate?

I see movement on the far side of the massive deadfall of collapsed bean trees. Two of the Greenshirts made it through the wall and are picking their way over the tangle of trunks and vines. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I think of the man crying out for his mother, and want to run to the survivors, to see if they’re okay, if I can help rescue their comrades.

But I don’t. Because the world doesn’t work like that, and people don’t think like that. We’re not altruistic. Humans fight and kill and follow orders, and the only way to survive is to be like everyone else, only worse. They don’t ask for help, or see if I’m okay. We don’t find common ground in the face of this catastrophic earthquake. We just keep fighting, running, hurting, killing.

They open fire at me, and I run into the desert. There’s nowhere else to go.

It’s as awful as I remember. The heat smacks me like an explosion. Each breath scorches my lungs, but I keep going because the Greenshirts keep shooting. Why do they care about duty at a moment like this, with the ground trembling beneath our feet? Or are they so persistent because they blame me for their comrades’ deaths? But they don’t have to chase me, shoot at me. It’s not me making them do it. Don’t they realize they could just stop?