Homeland

By Ethan Jacobsen

Homeland is the ongoing story of the brothers, Max and Alan who were orphaned during the Chlorophyll Campaign.  By banding together with other wounded souls they survived the campaign, but happily ever after isn't the way of the world. Life rarely goes exactly to plan because it's made up of so many nuances. When the future goes awry, sometimes it's not the strong who survive. Broken battered souls thrown together have a way of rallying like no others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ethan Jacobsen
• Release date: Dec 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386135418

Ethan Jacobsen

The Chlorophyll Campaign is the fourth book that I’ve written and completed. Although I’ve been a storyteller all my life, my initial attempts at writing an actual book didn’t happen until I was nearly twelve. My first three books were a series of fun, fantasy adventures that I named the ‘Journal’ series. The Chlorophyll Campaign is a departure from The Journal books. At fourteen I’m ready to explore new ways of telling stories and my hope is that you will enjoy reading this tale as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Book preview

HOMELAND

Weary but tinged with exhilaration that comes with success our group boards the ship bound for a foreign shore. The Chlorophyll Campaign is finally behind us, we are the survivors and victors.

Our plan is rather simple, stay in Beijing for several months until the super flu destroys the remaining aliens, then return to our homeland and rebuild our world.

The complexity of setting up new laws and governments are placed on hold until we as a people recover from our battle scars and losses. Memorials and remembrances will replace the tears, but nothing can replace the sorrow. Every family has been viciously torn apart; no amount of time can heal those wounds only change can soften the blow. 

A few short years ago, the human population was pushing the limit for our world to host nearly eight billion people. There had been places in the world where food and water shortages translated to the worst of human suffering. Civil wars, terrorists who thrived on fear and dictator regimes were plagues upon our planet. Diseases that hadn’t been seen in a multitude of years began to make their re-appearances, foreign governments interfering with other countries elections and discrimination based on the color of a person’s skin. Any number of things were right on the verge of bringing our over populated world to its knees. In the end it wasn’t anything we could have predicted that greatly reduced the human population; instead it was something we never considered, an alien species from places yet unknown.

It struck anywhere there was vegetation, which is to say everywhere a human population existed. At last count, it’s estimated that only around four billion people have survived.  Half of that number is the Chinese; the other half is what’s left of the rest of the world.  The people of both North and South America took the biggest hit, because it was a US company that inadvertently brought the alien virus to our world via a Martian soil sample. Although we’re sure that some pockets of the world’s population are still in hiding, we hold out hope that many are Americans. Historically, we’re a pretty hearty group.

All of us faced losses during the Chlorophyll Campaign. Alan and I lost our parents, as did too many other kids. Gordon his wife, Edward’s mother; even the mighty Colonel Frey lost his sister. All four hundred and eighty six of us have tales of sorrow to tell. Instead of drowning in that sorrow and I’m not suggesting that we don’t grieve, we pulled together, relied on each other and fought for our very lives. Despite the odds, it paid off and together we defeated the alien forces.  Something else came out of us banding together, we’ve collectively learned not to dwell on yesterday, it’s gone, but rather we live for today and hope for tomorrow. As I’ve said before, hope is a pretty great thing.

ONE

A slight musty odor wafts off the ghillie suit as the wearer quietly adjusts his position. With the rifle firmly held against his shoulder, he peers through the scope. His target is half way up a tree, feasting on what looks like the remains of a doe, blissfully unaware of what is about to happen. As he readjusts his position he catches another whiff of must. Purposefully he aims for the head, the rifle bucks as his finger pulls the trigger. With the silencer in place, the only sounds are the body falling and the flapping of wings as the birds flee the scene.

Jessie Birch stands to make certain it was a kill shot, then he drops to the forest floor and waits for his next target.

In the underbrush beneath the fallen body small vines slither quietly away.

A foreign sun filters in through the grime streaked windows as I watch my brother sitting on a wood bench, a pile of plastic dinosaurs next to him. He’s not playing with his toys; instead he’s tormenting the loose gravel under his feet. Clouds of dust rise up from his shoes and join the hazy gray polluted air around him. Even from four stories up, I can tell Alan is bored.

So far, our time here in Beijing hasn’t been an easy one for any of us, especially Alan. In the midst of the Chlorophyll Campaign, Alan had been mostly pampered. He had lived in a high rise luxury condo and dined on gourmet foods. Movies, games, computers and even 3D printers were all available for his entertainment.  Now he’s being forced to endure what’s become ‘the normal’ for me, a bare bones existence.

I suppose if I look beyond the unpleasant living conditions, I have to admit the worst thing about this place is the separation from friends. Out of the one hundred and sixty two of us staying at this hotel, my ten year old brother and I are the only kids. This is why Alan feels that time no longer matters, for him and many others here each day is the same as the last. At least I have my journals to keep me occupied.

During our nearly six week voyage to Beijing, both Alan and his best friend Ollie had started journals of their own. At first they wrote about the tricks that they had taught their dogs, George, a purebred pug and Charlie, a rescued mix of pit bull and who knows what else. Occasionally Alan would write about the fishing that Eric, Gordon, and even Charlotte would do. They did this mostly to entertain themselves, but the benefit was a variety of fresh fish for meals. I had read one of Alan’s pages where he had gone into detail about the types of seafood that had been served for our evening meals.  Before long Alan switched from journal keeping to stories about dinosaurs and adventures that he and his friends would have once they reached China. It gave me insight as to how excited Alan was getting to spending time in a new land.

Ollie however was less enthusiastic about writing. After the first couple of days, he took to drawing small characters with speech bubbles. In less than a week, Ollie had stopped writing all together. Instead he used his notebook pages to perfect paper airplane building.  I was disappointed when Alan abandoned his stories and took up creating planes with Ollie. The two of them spent good parts of their days at sea sending carefully folded paper planes off the aft of the ship. Their planes would catch the winds and sail off into endless sea. I have little doubt that Alan’s stories ended up crash landing into the waves in the shape of a paper airplane.

During the voyage both Alan and Ollie had complained that the trip was taking too long and the days on board were getting repetitive and boring. Right now, I have no doubt that Alan would much rather spend his days back on the ship; at least there he had Ollie.

With 486 American survivors stepping off the ship onto Asian soil. The Chinese government had been swift in separating us into three different hotels. They claimed that they didn’t have the space for so many in one. It was probably the truth, but the rapidness in which it happened leaves me wondering if there was another reason.

The way Patrick explains it was that only in recent years did the tourist trade really come to China. The Chinese have always been somewhat suspicious of foreigners. The Country of China itself has been around continuously for longer than any other country on earth. In fact, historians don’t know when it actually began. As far back that we go in our history as a people, China has always been here. That’s difficult to fathom given that the country of Turkey didn’t exist before 1923, Greece formed in 1830 and Israel in 1948. China is steeped in ancient traditions that only those born and raised here can truly fathom. For the most part China is used to keeping a comfortable distance away from the rest of the world. Now the rest of the world has flooded into China after fleeing the alien invaders and super viruses present in their own countries. The polluted air of the major cities in China is what keeps the aliens from invading. The Chinese government is used to moving slowly, and is currently at a loss on how to deal with so many foreigners. While Patrick’s explanation makes sense, I still have a feeling that we’re missing something.

Not only had Ollie and his father had been sent to a different hotel than us.  Their friend Will had sailed off to China while the Chlorophyll Campaign was still raging, because Will’s sister Lisa and adopted sister Maria were so young. All our groups families with young children had chosen at that time to go to China. I know both Alan and Ollie had looked forward to being a trio again, only to be disappointed that not only wouldn’t they be together, but we’re told that Will is living in another city. Curfews and restrictions are keeping them all apart and preventing them from even communicating with each other.

Alan’s adventures in China aren’t anything like he had imagined. In his stories, he, Ollie and Will explored the Great Wall and spied on pandas and tigers in bamboo forests. In one of his grander tales they even climbed Mt. Everest. As farfetched as those stories were, there was undeniable excitement to them that had more to do with being together with his friends than adventures in a foreign land.  Up until now we have been either in hiding or hunting mode for years. I can completely understand Alan’s desire for some carefree days with friends.

I haven’t seen or spoken to my best friends Kenny and his twin Justin since we arrived in Beijing. Not only do I miss their companionship, but I miss Kenny’s way of stopping me from overthinking everything and inserting myself into every adult problem. He would always remind me to ‘Be a kid while you still can’. Just a few weeks without him and I already feel my childhood years slipping away fast.

Beijing is visually pretty, the shops and buildings have an exotic look to them, the place is steeped in history. Incredible sites that are hundreds of years old dot the landscape all around us. But we have no money, so we don’t bother exploring the shops, or points of interest. Everything here comes with a price tag.

Although I expected Beijing to be different from home, I’ll admit that I wasn’t prepared for how unlike home it would be.  The streets are always filled with noisy traffic and the sidewalks are thick with people. Apparently being shoved around by strangers is the same as saying ‘excuse me.’ Foreign voices sound off all around, and it makes me miss my world where everyone spoke the English language. I long for a world where I could not only understand my surroundings, but be understood. The people here don’t speak English nor do they make any effort to understand us foreigners.  We have nothing to offer them, and we’re just more bodies taking up the already limited space.

Often I find my eyes searching storefronts and street signs for a recognizable word in the tangle of kanji. Even the air is different here. It has a thickly heavy feel to it, and the wind has an actual flavor, which is far from pleasant.  Whether the sun’s blaring down, or the down pour of rain, tinges of gray are forever present in the way of pollution.  A lot of our population has recently developed breathing problems. Carbon filtered face masks were been distributed throughout the hotel, and now everyone looks as through their about to perform surgery. 

It was just a few weeks ago when we first stood on Chinese soil. Instead of the warm welcome that we had been expecting, we were met with angry shouts and weapons pointed straight at us. The soldiers acted as though they had no idea that we had been expected. We of course had no idea at the time that a French ship filled with survivors had just landed earlier that same morning, followed by a Dutch ship, then one more from England. The Chinese were feeling overwhelmed and less than hospitable by the time we arrived.

The immediate problem was language. We just weren’t able to communicate with each other. The drama of a lot of pushing and shoving went on until Patrick who had spent some of his time aboard the ship learning Mandarin Chinese, was able to communicate enough to get the guns lowered.

The second drama happened moments later with the dogs. While the small dogs, like Ollie’s pug puppy George, were ignored.  The larger ones, like Charlie, Castor, and Bulldozer, were singled out. Some of the soldiers came forward in an attempt to confiscate the larger dogs. Charlie and Bulldozer are both pit bulls, but neither of them live up to the reputation that such dogs are given. Charlie is just out of puppyhood and is as sweet and timid as a dog can be. Bulldozer has a happy go lucky type of personality. He figures everyone is his friend, after all why wouldn’t you be.

Castor on the other hand is a fully grown pure bred male Doberman with a temper. He looks every bit as intimidating as he is. Only Charlotte can restrain Castor once he’s teeth are bared, and that’s only if she wants to.

Patrick tries once again to explain that they were pets same as the smaller dogs, but he is ignored and shoved aside.  As Patrick tries once more to intervene, an angry shove sends him onto his hands and knees; he must scramble out of the way to keep from being trampled. Shouts of protest on both sides starts all over again. Charlotte takes a swing at the soldier who tries to take Castor and Charlie from her. The punch lands square in the center of his face and he goes down to the pavement. With all the pushing, shoving, shouting, and Castor’s constant snapping, I have no idea how we manage to not be shot. It would be ironic to have survived the aliens, the Campaign, and the voyage only to shot in the streets of Beijing because we have dogs as pets.

Alan is so scared and confused. He can’t understand what’s happening or why soldiers were trying to take the dogs. People in our crowd begin protesting that the dogs are pets not food, Alan becomes even more terrified and he clings to his beloved dog Charlie.

Despite his recent trip to the pavement Patrick keeps trying to explain that the dogs are our pets but is told repeatedly. Not allowed.  Things are looking very bleak; Charlotte starts herding everyone back up the ramp towards the ship when Nancy arrives. She had gone to China when the first ship had set sail.

Nancy has come to be a part of the welcoming committee. She’s arrived late because she and her assistants have filled a large motorcycle cart with freshly baked muffins for all of us. But, instead of a happy reunion, she finds everyone in a state of Chaos. At first no one listens to Nancy’s protests either, and she speaks fluent Mandarin. She’s shoved aside several times before she simply steps in front of the general in charge and smashes a muffin into his stern face.  Apparently Nancy had been enjoying a celebrity style status here in Beijing because the President of the Peoples Republic of China had made her his personal chef.  Her cooking abilities were the stuff of legend. When the muffin wearing general recognized President Xi Jinping’s favorite chef, the dogs are allowed to stay without any more debates or threats.

We do have to go through security; at least we are able to enjoy Nancy’s muffins as our belongings are searched. Cell phones, tablets, and computers are confiscated without explanation. To my surprise, Charlotte hands over her cell phone without any protests. I guess she doesn’t want to press her luck after the punching incident.

The Chinese officials did explain through Nancy and Patrick that our group would have to be put into quarantine for two weeks to ensure that no one was infected. It seems absurd to me because if we had been infected we certainly wouldn’t have been able to walk off the boat, much less have an argument over our dogs. People who are infected have no control over their movements and cannot speak. Could it be the Chinese don’t know those facts?

We are quickly separated into three groups. With all the commotion Alan didn’t realized that Ollie wasn’t in his group until later. Alan is still in a state of shock that we’ve sailed to a part of the world that has dog on their menu.

Opening the door to the hotel room brings on yet another shock. A musky odor wafts out, like a blend of unwashed socks and cigarettes. The cell like room is well worn, tiny, and unclean.  The tired beige wallpaper is pealing; some spots are crumbling into piles of dust on the floor beneath it. On the brown threadbare carpet, a pair of small single beds sits inches away from one another. One is pressed up against the far wall, the other presses up against the bathroom. The bed coverings sometime in their history had been white, now they are a stained faded yellow. In one corner sits a small yellowing half size refrigerator, it issues out a moldy odor into the already foul smelling room when Alan opens its squeaking door. The inside of the fridge has the look of something that has never known a scrubbing. Speckles of black mold make the interior of the fridge look like a warped dot to dot. I turn on the faucet in the bathroom intending to rinse my face and change my mind when the water comes out gray and tinged with speckles of brown.

Gross, why does this water look this way?

I feel Charlotte’s breath on my neck as she peers over my shoulder.

It’s called ‘lead poisoning’.  Don’t drink it, in fact; don’t even brush your teeth with it. You boys consolidate inventory from our backpacks. I’m going to have a chat with Gordon on the marvels of this place.

Where are we supposed to consolidating things? There’s no space in this room. And by the way did you notice that there is a squatty potty in the bathroom? No toilet paper either. You might want to mention that to Gordon first.

She glances at the toilet and makes a face.

Great, that’s just great. Max, consolidate, just figure it out. Charlotte snaps as she storms out the door.

Alan glances around the small cramped space. Our dogs, Castor and Charlie have already claimed the bed nearest to the tiny bathroom. Charlie is watching the scene carefully, but Castor is dozing, as if saying, "Wake me when you figure it all out.’’

How about we dump everything on the empty bed by the wall, and then stack things in order on the desk. You know how Charlotte likes things lined up in neat rows. If we do a nice job, it might cheer her up a bit.

That’s not a desk Alan; it’s a piece of particle board nailed to the wall with shelf liner stuck to the top. I’m afraid it might collapse under the weight, but seems we have little options.

Turning our own backpacks upside down, their meager contents spread out on the narrow bed. A couple of paperbacks, my journals, a worn deck of cards, a couple of changes of clothing, an enormous pile of small plastic dinosaurs in a variety of colors, five full water bottles in all, plus one that’s half full. Not enough for more than a day or two for the three of us and that’s if we give sink water to the dogs.

I move on to Charlotte’s pack which is very heavy. A variety of twelve candy bars, a half-eaten bag of chips, a tin partially full of mints, twenty three MRE’s mostly of peanut butter and crackers, four more water bottles, a cylinder of some sort, two first aid kits, six boxes of matches, four paperback books, a jar of instant coffee, seven cans of dog food, and a baggy filled with broken dog biscuits. Picking up one of the MRE’s I wonder why she would bother to carry all of this. We still have plenty of food on the ship, although we’re saving it for the return voyage home. But I don’t think that the Chinese intend to starve us. This all seems excessive, even for Charlotte. I discover two more full first aid kits in her packs outer pocket. That’s is over kill for even our old neighbor, Mr. Birch and odd behavior for Charlotte.

Ignoring the inedible items in Charlottes pile, I line up the food and water on the pathetic excuse for a desk. We’re back to inventorying our supplies and rationing again. I sigh; I’ve been in worse situations, although I had such high hopes that China would hold better things for us.

Max, what do you think this is? Alan asks holding up the cylindrical container. 

Looks like a water bottle, but, well it’s weird looking.

Alan hands me the cylinder, it’s too heavy for just an empty water bottle. I’m just unscrewing the lid, as Charlotte stomps through the door.  She dramatically flings an open box filled with small packets of tissue onto the bed. Some of the tissue packets spill out and Alan busy himself with placing them neatly back into the box. We both know that we’re about to hear another of Charlottes rants. She’s been going off on them more and more lately, sometimes going into a rage over what most people would consider no big deal. Kenny thinks this is how Charlotte deals with boredom, but I’m not so sure. If I had to guess, I’d say that Erik is behind her emotional outbursts. It’s hard not to notice that their relationship is now on a downward slope.

"Well guess what, we’re in yet another mess. At least our life’s consistent. To begin with, those tissues are for bathroom duty. Use them sparsely, because I don’t know when we can get more of them. Apparently, we are expected to pay for items at the stores, even if they are necessities. With none of us having any Yuen, that’s not going to happen.  What a messed-up country this is.

While this so called ‘hotel’ has a couple of extra empty rooms, they’re all the same size as well as having the same level of ode to ash tray odor. Apparently, a lot of people in Beijing smoke cigarettes, although I can see no reason why, except they’re worried that the pollution air can’t rot their lungs fast enough. Or maybe it’s for population control and the average person gets a special bonus for taking up smoking, like free toilet paper.

Anyway, according to our newly bilingual Patrick, there’s a plan to feed us, but not one to get us clean water. He’s been told that tea and coffee are available in the lobby pretty much twenty- four-seven, but there’s no guarantee that they didn’t use the water from these same old pipes. In other words, don’t drink anything that doesn’t come out of a bottle."

What’s this?  I ask, hoping to deflect her rant.

"That Max, is why we’re not going to slowly die from lead poisoning. I’ve been carrying it around in my backpack since we were in that fallout shelter. See here, it has a filtration system. All you do is remove this center portion of the bottle and fill it with water to this line here.’’ Charlotte fills the bottle from the water in the bathroom faucet. I glance inside; the water has a red-brown tinge to it.  I make a ‘that’s disgusting’ face.

Now you replace the center portion, put the whole thing on the ground and press it all the way down. It filters all the bacteria, sediments, chemicals, and heavy metals out of the water, making it safe to drink. After we use up the water bottles on the desk, we can refill them with filtered water from this purification system.

I open the cap and am surprised to see clear clean water.

How many times can we use it before the filter stops being effective?

That’s my boy, always thinking. That’s how we’ve managed to stay alive so far.  Well, according to the instructions, we need to change the filter with every forty uses, but don’t worry, because I’m also a planner and threw in several of the replacement filters into my pack. Water wise, we’re going to be okay. It’s the rest that I’m worried about.

‘‘Charlotte, we can’t all stay in this room together, it’s too small. We’re already all on top of each other. I can’t even move without having you or Alan step out of the way. Besides unless you expect share your bed with the dogs, there’s no other space for them. You mentioned that there were other rooms available, Alan and I will move into one of them. It’s not like we’d be on our own, we’ll still be in the same building, just essentially in our own bedroom."

No way, we need to stay together. Charlotte says quickly.

I watch as she picks at the dot to dot cluster of scars she has on her arms. She has similar scars all over her body, reminders of when a vine attacked her. My skin has vine scars too, although mine are fading faster than Charlottes. I suspect it has something to do with the habitual way she picks at them when something is bothering her. We had stayed in our own cabins while on the cruise here, I wonder why a hotel would bring out anxiety in her. Before I can ask, Alan cuts in.

I want Charlie to stay with me. No one’s going to eat my dog. Alan says angrily as he sits down to pet Charlie’s golden head. Her stubby tail thumps rapidly and she rolls onto her back to present her stomach for a rub down.

That’s another reason we have to stay together, the dogs aren’t exactly welcome here. We have no idea what Nancy arranged or how long she can protect us. All we have is the hope that the Chinese don’t go back on their agreement with her. We can make this work Max. It’ll be tight, but I think we can make it work. Charlotte responds, but I can tell even she is wondering how.

I change tactics, Have you noticed that there is an opening into the bathroom, but no door? That means every time we use the toilet or the shower, we’re in full view of everyone else in the room. It’s bad enough that I have to use a toilet in the floor, I don’t want to watch anyone else squatting over it.

Charlotte stares at the toilet that’s in an open line of sight to the pair of beds. Max is right; there simply won’t be any privacy here. She’ll have