Evolution by Kyle West Page A

sensation as the drops splattered my face was pleasant, and made me smile.
    We entered the thickness of the trees. It was dark, so we got out our flashlights.
    “We won’t go too far in,” Samuel said. “I just want to make sure nothing’s going to jump out at us.”
    Lightning cracked the sky, for a split second illuminating the forest in shadowy green.
    “We need to be prepared for anything,” Samuel said. He paused, listening for a moment. “This area’s clear. Let’s walk around the entire perimeter.”
    For the next ten minutes, we reconnoitered. We stuck to the outer fringes of the clearing as the storm advanced. Then, the rain suddenly came down in a torrent, soaking and chilling me to the bone. It was like some god had opened a heavenly window. The rain fell and fell, and lightning slashed the sky. It was apocalyptic and threatening and violent, in its own way. Gusts of wind bent the trees so far sideways that I did not see how they remained intact.
    “Let’s get back,” Samuel shouted.
    I didn’t argue, and we headed back to Odin . Once we made it to the boarding ramp, soaking wet, I saw that both Anna and Makara were already standing there. They, too, must have never seen rain before. The ship itself provided an awning with its outstretched, starboard wing. Waterfalls dripped from the wing’s sides as the lightning continued to slash the clouds and thunder in the forest.
    We all said nothing as we watched. It was like we were drinking in the raw nature we had been deprived of our whole lives.
    As the storm gained in intensity, my feeling of calm wonder slowly became one of rising alarm. This all came to a head when a jagged line of molten white speared itself from the sky, igniting a tall tree with a thunderous crack. I felt the heat of it, even from where I was, despite the coolness of the wind.
    “Better get inside,” Makara said.
    I decided that was a good idea. I followed her in. I paused at the open door, looking back at Samuel and Anna, who both stood, as if transfixed. I thought about warning them. But, Makara pulled my sleeve, and I stepped in after her. The door hissed shut behind me.
    We said nothing in the metallic gray of the ship, only turning left down the corridor to head to our bunks. On either side was an open archway – within each room were four bunks. Makara paused before the right-hand doorway, giving me a tired glance before ducking inside the dark room.
    I went into my own cabin, and laid down on my back, facing upward. Though we left at morning according to Skyhome time, my sleep of the night before had been restless, and the dark night outside just made me want to sleep even more. Coaxed by the sound of falling rain and thunder, both dimmed from the ship’s shell and walls, I closed my eyes, feeling sleep take hold almost instantly.

Chapter 7
    T he next day dawned hot and muggy. The water on the ground rose up in steam. It was hard to believe it was so warm, even though it was only early morning.
    I started off by cramming myself into the ship’s tiny shower. Once done, I stepped out and dried off, dressing in my green camo pants and a green shirt. The environment down here was a little different from the Wasteland, and for that reason I had decided to forgo my desert camo hoodie. That hoodie had been with me since my escape from Bunker 108, but I probably couldn’t make it one mile wearing it. It would be waiting for me here upon my return.
    From the kitchen came the sounds of cooking – pots clanging, food simmering, a spatula scraping. I went to the doorway, finding Samuel cooking breakfast. It was a strange picture. The last person I expected to be the ship’s cook was now frying up four hearty omelets, filled with tomatoes, green peppers, mushroom, and chopped onion. Four pieces of bread popped from the nearby toaster.
    “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” I asked.
    Samuel shrugged. “I cooked a lot when I lived in Bunker 114. I got pretty good at it.”