Third Wave: An Anthology

By Zaide Bishop

A new battle has begun, and the struggle to survive is not only for Eden but for the fate of all life on Earth

Once divided, the Elikai and Varekai tribes have unified. Now called Kai, they’ve come to look beyond rebuilding their world to secure a life for the new Children of Eden. For the tribe leaders, there is another way to protect the future: revisit the past.

In unearthing their origins as a people, in learning the truth behind the cataclysm that wiped out most of the world’s population, the few survivors will discover the very reason for their existence.

They’ve never been more united—or more vulnerable to a new enemy. Their once-peaceful archipelago is now under threat from an army of outsiders with their own unfathomable purpose.

The desperate families of Kai must make it back to the mainland. Before their dream of Eden mutates into a nightmare.

Don’t miss the first two books in this series, First Fall and Second Heart, available now!

This book is approximately 97,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carina Press
• Release date: Aug 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781488032820

Zaide Bishop

Zaide Bishop is a queer & transgender author living in Australia. He loves animals, sustainably living, reading and pro-equality rallies. Zaide believes everyone should be able to find positive, affirmative representation in stories where they feel like the hero, and is endeavouring to write as many books like this as he can. For updates on new releases, sign up to his newsletter at www.zaidebishop.com.

Book preview

PART FIVE:

THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE

Chapter One

Eden—Before the World was Born

Everything Teacher Steve had said was true. The Varekai were monsters. Outwardly they looked like Elikai, but inside they were rotten, twisted by cruelty or insanity. They had massacred the teachers, and now bodies littered Eden. It was impossible to move without bumping into corpses. Tare’s hands slid into pools of fetid, rotting flesh. Maggots wriggled as he crawled blindly across the dead turf. He could feel death caked on his skin, across his fingers, up his arm to his elbow, on his knees and shins, crusted between his bare toes.

All of this in the unending blackness, so complete and unwavering, Tare was losing his mind. He wasn’t sure he remembered what things looked like anymore. Memories of faces seemed to be leaking away, replaced only with the sound of voices and the now-familiar scent of sour sweat.

All the plants were dying. Without the sunlight and the fifteen-minute rain showers, they had withered. Some dried up, some melted into soggy mush. The food was running out.

The chickens had stopped laying, and now the only food left was the animal feed. Dry corn and oats. The corn at least could be made into a paste, but they had no way to cook it. With the rot and death all around them, on their skin, Tare was afraid to eat—unable to see what else had fallen into the mortar and pestle with the corn.

He was hungry, and the water in the pools was drying up and starting to smell. It seemed the rot from the corpses had found its way through the soil to the water and contaminated it. His piss was starting to stink and it stung as it was coming out. Dehydration was giving him headaches.

Still, he persevered.

The whoosh whack-clunk, whoosh whack-clunk as he swung the pick was the only sound. Sometimes bits of the wall would fly off and strike his bare chest, arms or even his face. Sometimes they drew blood. His hands were blistered, shoulders screaming in silent agony with every heft and strike.

At first his brothers had helped, particularly when he showed them his progress, but now they were too exhausted or hungry or hopeless to bother. The tunnel into the wall was nearly four feet deep now. Sugar said the wall probably went on forever. That there would be no end to it and that Tare was digging for nothing.

He couldn’t stay here any longer, though. He had to get out. He had to get away from the dark and the smell. The Varekai were in their own dome still, but sometimes the Elikai would hear them stalking around, seeking an escape. Tare hadn’t been the only one to piss himself with fear when the noises got closer.

Those terrifying, confusing minutes, with doors opening and blood-streaked teachers bursting in. Tare had watched the Varekai bludgeon them to death. Watched other teachers fall and die with their eyes ruptured and blood flowing from their noses and mouths.

Now, every waking moment was taut with the fear the Varekai would descend on him, tearing him to shreds. As his own hunger grew, he imagined them stripping his flesh and stuffing it into their mouths.

The pinhole of light was so unexpected that it blinded him. He stumbled back, pain lancing into his head as he sank to his knees, damp and filthy hands pressed over his face.

Slowly he peered around them, and for the first time in a week he saw his own fingers; his nail beds were raw and bloody, his hands gray with dirt and wet with sweat. The ruptured blisters on his hands looked like pulverized meat.

He gave a horrified sob, then another of hope and desperation. He scrambled to the tiny hole, pressing his face to the jagged concrete and peering out. He could see a road and the square corner of a building, like in the videos the teachers made them watch. A fly buzzed past. It was sunny and hot.

Tare? He could hear the movement of several of his brothers picking their way toward him but stopping short of the painful debris he had strewn around.

Help me! he demanded, clawing at the wall with bare, bloody hands. The stone was unyielding, and he grabbed the pick again, slamming it against the stone with unskilled panic.

Stop it, you’ll break it! Fox said.

Break what? Tare paused only an instant.

The light!

It’s not a light! Tare said, frustration boiling over. Help me, we have to get outside.

His brothers were dumbfounded. Outside...what? Sugar asked. His tone was gentle, wheedling, as if Tare had lost his mind.

Outside Eden!

Xícara tried to come closer but was almost hit by another wide swing of the pick. Tare, there is nothing outside Eden. What can you mean, ‘outside’?

A fist-sized chunk of concrete fell away, and the light dazzled them, filling the empty space and illuminating all their faces. The street and building became a little clearer. A fresh breeze curled in, smelling of heat, baking tar and brine. It carried the sounds of seagulls and a deep, rolling grumble like thunder or machinery from somewhere nearby.

Oh...

For the first time in a week, Tare could see the shock on their filthy faces. He battered at the wall, ripping and tearing with the pick, an animal need for freedom overwhelming any sense of pain.

Another vicious thrust and a much larger chunk of concrete gave way, toppling outward into the fresh new world. The gap was now as big as a clipboard, and Tare lunged at it, his narrow shoulders and hips wriggling through. He ignored the stone that tore at his back and thighs, tumbling out onto a thin strip of overgrown grass beside the wall. A cheery sea breeze buffeted him. The sunlamp high overhead burned down with a brightness and intensity beyond anything Tare had ever known before.

The ceiling rose up and up, far beyond reason, blue and white and filled with birds. The space terrified Tare, and if he had anything in him to piss, it would have been running down his leg. The street ran long in one direction, so far the buildings seemed to get smaller and smaller. The distance gave him vertigo, and he had to cling to the ground, as if he were suddenly just dust that might be swept in any direction, stupid and helpless in the vastness.

His brothers were wriggling out behind him, and he could hear their cries of alarm. Inside, those who had yet to see were calling for the others to come, to escape into the light.

Tare opened his mouth and croaked, trying to warn those still inside. They needed to stay. The darkness and hunger was a better fate. Anything to save them from the sheer, unending vastness of what Tare had unwittingly thrust them into.

The words didn’t come, and one by one the Elikai wriggled into the light, and the world shifted in a way that meant they could never, ever go back.

Sugar took a few tottering steps away from the vast, white wall behind them and onto the street. He stood, jaw slack, eyes wide. The grumbling Tare had heard was growing closer, and with it, the steady pounding of massive feet.

The creature walked slowly into view. An unholy mix between an elephant and a giraffe with a horse’s head, some sixteen feet tall at the shoulder, with a body mass of fourteen tons. In the bestiary of the world before, the paraceratherium had been listed as extinct, the largest mammal ever to have walked the earth. Yet here it was. Behind it, close to a dozen more, some as small as cars, others towering almost as tall as their patriarch.

Tare was rendered mute and stupid. At his side, Love was trembling violently, sinking down onto his hands and knees. The rules of Eden no longer applied.

* * *

Construction was progressing slower than usual, and India was trying not to lose her temper. The Varekai had been back in their village for a month, and only half their huts were rebuilt. They had left Pinnacle Island in much worse condition than usual, and the season’s devastation had been more extensive than they were anticipating. Finding materials for building was tricky without damaging any of the new island growth, and Charlie and Whiskey were not as much help as they would normally have been, which left India picking up the slack.

Whiskey had been pregnant now for the entire wet season and several months prior to it. Nine whole months, by India’s count, and she just kept getting larger. Her belly was swollen beyond reason, sticking out in front of her as she waddled from place to place. They could feel the babies inside, kicking and wriggling in the womb.

Seeing Whiskey like this, India was almost glad she hadn’t fallen pregnant yet herself. It was both fascinating and terrifying to see her sister so deformed. Even Whiskey’s breasts had swelled, as big now as Charlie’s.

At six months now, and with a more regular food supply, Charlie had started to show too. She had kept it from the tribe for a time, but the bloating of her belly had become too noticeable, and she had finally confessed why she had been forced to drive the Elikai away to starve. She had not told Sugar yet, and India had convinced Tare to keep it from the other Elikai for now. He wasn’t happy about it, though he rarely saw his brothers. The tribes were still very much at odds.

That each village now had one member of the opposite sex in residence, the Varekai with Tare and the Elikai with Romeo, was irrelevant. There was even a chance the birth of Whiskey’s offspring would bring about war again, with the Elikai demanding a share of the young.

India had more pressing concerns, however.

Rinse, chop and on the gardens! Rinse, chop and on the gardens! Her temper was reaching the end of its limits.

Her garden had been ruined. A storm surge from the wide expanse of the ocean to the east had swamped the island, and almost all of the plants had withered over the summer. A few of the hardier fruit trees were still clinging to life, but without proper care, they would soon die.

Without enough chickens to fertilize the soil, India had her sisters gathering seaweed off the beaches. The brown clumps then had to be thoroughly rinsed in the freshwater spring near the Varekai camp before being sliced as thinly as possible and turned into the soil to feed the seedlings. She would have preferred to cook it a little and start the breakdown of the fibers, but there was too much seaweed and they had too few large pots.

Is this really necessary? Tango groaned, hauling another shoulder-load of sopping wet, salt-free seaweed to the circle of Varekai shredding it.

More than ever, India said. Who knows how many new mouths we will have to feed? Whiskey’s bitches have litters of nine, even twelve pups. Whiskey looks like she’s carrying an entire pack. What if, between Whiskey and Charlie, we have twenty new Varekai? What do you think they’re going to eat?

Tango paused, hands on her hips. I see why you want to expand the gardens. But I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in... She paused, lips moving as she counted backward. Well, a long time. Maybe since the start of summer. I’d prefer to be finishing my hut and lining it properly. If it rains again tonight, half of us are going to sleep wet.

I know, but we’re not going to have any food grown before the babies arrive. We’re already behind schedule. I want to know I’ve done everything to make sure we’re fed.

You’re amazing. Tare appeared at her side, kissing India on the cheek. Everything you do is a miracle.

She leaned into him. No matter how frustrated or tired she was, Tare was always the sweet taste amid the sour. Less praise, more work.

He arched an eyebrow at her. You sure? Seeing you boss everyone around makes me want to drag you off somewhere private so you can boss me around.

She wrinkled her nose. While you’re dripping sweat and smell like dead crabs? I’ll pass.

Then if you can spare me for the rest of the afternoon, I’d like to see how my brothers are faring.

Will you tell them about this? Tango asked. About how we prepare the garden?

Tare nodded. India glanced at Tango, waiting to see if this annoyed or pleased her, but under the scars, her expression was unreadable. She simply nodded, turning away from them to take more seaweed to the pool.

Tell them they need to find black soil, India told Tare. The more sand in it, the less will grow. Pig and chicken poop, blood, fish scraps, seaweed, rotting plants—they’ll all make the soil better. No dog or Kai poop.

I don’t think the Elikai have any dogs left, but I’ll tell them.

He kissed her on the temple, and she watched him leave, resisting the urge to call after him. To remind him of the things he needed not to say. The secrets he still had to keep.

* * *

Xícara lifted another stone into place, twisting and wriggling it until it fit snugly against the others. The stone-and-wood structures of the Elikai usually withstood the storm season, but this year the walls had crumbled, destroyed by storm surges and gale-force winds that had carried whole trees spinning through the air. In some cases even the foundations were completely absent, scattered into the trees or perhaps dragged out in the king tides to the shallow waters around the island. Being one of the largest of the Elikai, Xícara had been tasked with a lot of the heavy lifting.

He saw the Varekai canoe gliding through the emerald water and straightened up, stretching the kinks out of his spine. He grinned when he saw who it was, then jogged down the beach to help Tare pull the craft out of the water. Xícara slapped him on the shoulder.

I didn’t recognize you. He indicated the black-and-white swirls on Tare’s skin. Not as many as the other Varekai, but they were there. Patches, stripes and swirls in squid ink and white clay.

Tare gave him a wry look. The hunters insist. Besides, India likes it.

So how are they? Xícara asked, wondering what he would look like with paint on his skin and glass in his hair. News about the Varekai was sparse. It had been more than a month since Xícara had seen one particular Varekai who always seemed to be playing on his mind.

Good. Fine. Whiskey is as fat as a blowfish. She can barely move. Is Sugar around? It’s about time I told him something.

What about Tango? Xícara pressed.

Tango? She’s not fat, Tare said, confused.

Xícara bit back the desire to shake him until information came out. No. Is she well?

Oh. Yes, she’s fine. I saw her right before I came over here. She’s helping replant the gardens.

He bit his lip. Did she say anything?

Give me a message, you mean? Sorry. You know what she’s like. You’ll get more conversation out of a rock.

Xícara sighed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

There he is. Tare spotted Sugar, and Xícara fell into step behind him.

Sugar was talking to Fox. The Elikai leader’s shoulders were slumped, eyes searching, but Fox was impassive, picking up his spears and gear.

—hunt with your brothers, Sugar was saying.

I prefer the silence, Fox said, and without meeting Sugar’s sad gaze, he walked calmly away.

Sugar looked defeated a moment, but his eyebrows rose when he saw Tare. You’re back.

Just quickly. What was that about? Tare asked.

Sugar glared at the grass around their feet. He refuses to forgive me. I was wrong, telling him to leave; I’ve said I’m sorry. We were starving, and he was giving away our food. I was sick and delirious. I didn’t mean it, but now he’s a ghost. He flits in, trades supplies and leaves again. I don’t know how to make him stay.

Time? Tare suggested, looking after Fox with a frown. He’s not been hanging around with the Varekai. Then again, Whiskey’s not exactly the best of company. She’s always eating, sleeping or yelling at someone. Sometimes I swear she does all three at once.

He is taking her food, though, Xícara said, certain Fox would never abandon his deal with the red-haired Varekai. Half his kills, for half the litter of young.

Tare shrugged. I guess. I haven’t really noticed. Sugar, I thought you needed to know, Whiskey isn’t the only fat one.

A sudden, rigid stillness settled over Sugar, and he met Tare’s gaze. Charlie?

She’s really starting to show. I thought, well, you’d want to know. You’re the only Elikai who ever— he made a vague hand gesture, —with her.

The color was draining out of Sugar’s face, and Xícara caught his elbow, steering him to a large rock before his knees gave.

She never told me...

Tare shrugged. She didn’t tell anyone for ages. Said she wasn’t sure. They’re starting to kick now. I’ve felt them myself.

Sugar was staring at the ground, expression blank with shock. Xícara sat down next to him, putting an arm across his shoulders. She probably knew, he said softly. Before she made us leave. She had to choose between you and them.

Sugar’s eyes flashed angrily. And that makes it okay? I should forgive her?

Xícara shrugged. I don’t know. They’re your babies. Who would you choose?

He put his head in his hands, shoulders trembling. Xícara sighed and patted his shoulder. Sugar had always been willing to shoulder every burden, but his spine was starting to crack. Sometimes he got too caught up in the details. All Xícara wanted was for everyone to get along so he could see Tango again.

Maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell you this, Tare said, looking uncertain.

It’s okay, Xícara assured him. It was rough, but we all survived the summer. Two of the Varekai are pregnant...unless you have some good news about India too?

Tare frowned and shook his head.

Ah, well. Soon, right? Xícara continued. And Fox will forgive soon, too. And the babies will be born healthy. The plants will grow back, the animals will breed. In a few months, everything will be better than it has been since Eden.

You can’t know that, Sugar said, face still buried in his hands.

Of course I do, Xícara said, squeezing his shoulder. We know the islands will recover. They’ve done so before. And all the forgiving stuff, well, it all depends on you, Charlie and Fox making the right choices. And I have faith you will. Why choose to be miserable when we can all be happy and safe together?

Sugar glanced at him. You make the impossible seem very simple.

It only looks impossible from where you’re sitting. When you’re ready, just choose to be happy. He got to his feet, going back to the hut he had been building. Tare trailed after him, leaving Sugar to his thoughts.

When did you get so smart? Tare asked.

Xícara shrugged. Maybe I’m not. But he needed a little nudge in the right direction. I want the tribes to be together again.

Tare snorted. You just want to be with Tango.

His cheeks went hot. Were his thoughts so obvious? She needs someone to look out for her. I want to protect her, that’s all.

Tare chuckled. After Whiskey, she’s one of the best hunters in the tribe. She moves as silently as the owl flies. If anyone needs protecting, it’s Bravo. She’d crawl into a crocodile mouth just to see what happened.

Xícara grinned. Bravo will have to find some other protector. I’m spoken for.

Suit yourself. You should come back with me. Say hello. Charlie’s told everyone to steer clear of the Elikai because she doesn’t want to upset Sugar. You’d be welcome to visit.

His heart skipped with a sudden, intense longing, but then he glanced at Sugar, his face still buried in his hands. I think I’m still needed here a little longer.

Chapter Two

Whiskey made her way carefully down the path to Ram’s Head. Everything was harder for her now; rowing the canoe, navigating the wild island trails, even staying alert seemed more challenging while her ankles were swollen and her back hurt. Her sisters didn’t like her sneaking away alone either, worried she would fall prey to one of the larger predators while she was too slow and fat to defend herself.

Oddly, she didn’t want to get away from her sisters as much as she used to. Feeling vulnerable made her want to be with them, and the noise and chaos of the camp was no longer as annoying as it used to be. However, Fox would not come to the Varekai camp, and even if he had been willing, they needed their privacy.

Once, it had been India and Tare meeting at Ram’s Head. The waterfall cascaded over the bulging knot of rock into a clear brackish pool filled with leaves and small fishes. The still water camouflaged stonefish perfectly, which was a shame, because it would have been perfect for swimming.

Today there was a brightly striped eel snaking its way between the roots, but as Whiskey’s shadow passed over the water, it darted into the creek mouth where the pool opened into the salty inlets.

Whiskey wouldn’t have even known about the cave behind the falls if she hadn’t followed India here all those months ago. Before the tribes had even realized they were the same species, Tare and India had been lovers, hiding here from the prying eyes of their kin.

There was no need for them to come here anymore, but they had left furs and the cave was still well suited for the task, so Whiskey had told Fox about it and they had been meeting there since the wet season had ended.

She slipped into the cave, but it was still empty. The furs were where they had left them, piled on the alcove of soft sand that made a pleasant bed. There was no sign of predators. The first time Whiskey had come here, there had been a leviathan snake skin by the cave entrance, suggesting that perhaps some huge python wintered here, somewhere deeper in the cave that Whiskey had not yet explored. But there had been no sign of it recently. No belly marks in the sand, no reeking piles of snake feces, so she felt reasonably safe, even on her own.

She stripped off her clothes, laying them on a natural rock shelf, and stepped onto the rock shelf over the pool, letting the waterfall rush over her skin.

She could sense him watching her without looking up. His gaze prickled up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She kept her back to him, head cocked to one side for any misstep that might give him away. The steady hiss of the cascading water changed as he passed under it, yet she still jumped a little when he put his hands on her shoulders.

She smiled, still not turning to face him. His hands ran down her arms, familiar in size and shape. She knew every callus now, every scar. Even with the water trickling over her face, the wet-sweat smell of him was familiar.

His hands trailed down to her hips, then slid across her swollen belly. There they came to rest. She could feel the slight tremble in his fingertips, waiting for any sign of life. Their life, which he had created inside her.

She turned her head, catching a glimpse of his hair, turned jet black by the water, and his serious gray eyes. He pressed his cheek to hers and his grip around her belly tightened.

You’re so beautiful, he murmured.

She grinned. I wondered why you kept coming back.

He snorted as he tugged her gently out of the waterfall. You know it’s never had anything to do with looks.

You’re the one who called me beautiful.

He helped her sit; getting up and down was harder every day. You know the moment I knew I never wanted to go a day without seeing you? When you killed that megalania. I’ve never seen anything so brave. Or savage. You’re a force of nature. My brothers feared you even more, then, but I was so hard I couldn’t hide it.

She pulled him closer, pressing her damp skin against his. It had been sooner for her, the day he had carried her from the den of the monster croc. They were both dehydrated and wounded. They had only been stuck there because she had kidnapped him. Still, he had risked his own life to save her. She had realized he was a better person than she was. He’d forgiven her for so much when she knew she wouldn’t be capable of the same.

Then, when his brothers were starving, he’d continued to bring her half his kills. He claimed it was for selfish reasons, so that he could claim all the Elikai young, but he’d been too concerned for her. Too obsessive about what she ate and when. It didn’t matter what happened between them, he was determined to care for his offspring.

His determination and willingness to sacrifice were exactly what Whiskey had been striving for since her mistakes in Eden, before the world began. Fox made it look effortless.

Are all the Elikai so aroused by violence? she teased.

Apparently it’s just me, so I guess you chose well.

She chuckled. Lie down so I can savage you, then.

He grinned. Now I’m too much of a challenge sitting? You really are losing your edge.

She gave him a gentle shove, and he obligingly flopped onto his back, putting his hands behind his head like he was sleeping on the beach. I am at your mercy.

She kissed his belly and worked her way up to his lips. He instinctively reached up to pull her down against him, but the great swell of her middle was in the way.

He settled for cupping her swaying breasts, kneading the tender flesh.

Gingerly, Whiskey swung her bulk over his body, straddling his hips. His erection bumped against her thighs as he sucked her nipples into his mouth.

She groaned, back arched, letting him move from breast to breast. He gave a squeak of surprise, and she looked down at him. Droplets beaded across his chin.

You’re, ah, leaking, he said, eyes wide.

She blinked, confused, and he squeezed her breast again, sending a thin squirt of milk across his own neck.

The bitches start producing milk a few days before they whelp.

A few days, he repeated, eyes wide.

She had no interest in his reverence. Her thighs were growing sticky with her own need, and she fumbled her hand between them, finding his cock and holding it steady while she guided herself down on top of it.

He groaned as he slid in, sinking deeper and deeper into the core of her. She rocked back into a sitting position, settling her weight on his hips, the full length of him buried inside her.

Are you— he started to ask, eyes closed, head back.

Shh, she scolded. She didn’t need him asking if she was sure. Her muscles were clamped around him, gripping and caressing even while their bodies were motionless, and she could sense his need, every fiber of his body striving to be closer, deeper, more a part of her.

With her belly in the way, this was one of few positions left to them. She missed being able to kiss him or have his mouth on her breasts while he was inside her, but hopefully it would not be much longer. It seemed like a worthwhile sacrifice, all things considered.

She rolled her hips, braced with her toes, her hands on his chest to steady herself. His hands came up to cup her breasts again, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She could feel drops of milk rolling down her chest and across his palms. She could smell it too, that heady richness she hadn’t smelled since Eden and the cow.

It was alien and strange—almost, but not quite, off-putting.

Fox gasped, his hips thrusting as she rocked against him. She could feel his shaft moving inside her, filling her, caressing her. The peak of each rock sent a jab of pleasure into her pearl that radiated up into her hips, the muscles across her belly straining with need.

Their eyes locked, and she could see the raw animal in him, teeth bared, single-minded. The strength in his arms, the way the cords in his neck stuck out, the bob of his throat as he swallowed—all served to arouse her more.