Botanicaust

at a bend in the river. Cracked and marrow-less bones, blackened by the ash of a campfire, littered the area. At the water ’ s edge, the vegetation had been recently crushed, and the distinct imprint of a human foot remained in the churned mud. But the ashes were cold, and Levi was hungry. Watching the camp in both wariness and morbid fascination, he dug up a few cattail roots and fled into the chest-high amarantox. He didn ’ t need to be far from the camp to become completely hidden behind a screen of leaves. Hopefully, the cannibals weren ’ t nearby.
    Not daring a cook fire, he gnawed on a fibrous root and allowed himself a few bites of goat jerky before taking off his boots. The air on his blistered feet cooled and hurt at the same time. The best thing for blisters would be a few days free of boots, but he couldn ’ t afford to stop. He shouldn ’ t take off his boots at all, in case he had to flee, but he couldn ’ t bear to encase his feet in leather again.
    An hour or two of rest.
    At least he had Beth ’ s parting gift — a mottled goat-hair blanket that served well to camouflage him. He looked back along his trail in the burgeoning daylight and was pleased to see the path he ’ d cut already springing back into place in the morning breeze.
    Plucking a few wide leaves from the nearby amarantox, he arranged them over the blanket before crawling beneath. The action brought back childhood memories of hiding from his father, taking an afternoon to dream and draw instead of hand-weeding the invading amarantox from the fields. Later, he and Sarah used to slip away from prying eyes and make love beneath a blanket of camouflage, much to her father ’ s disapproval. The Order forbade sex out of wedlock, but many broke that ordinance. Like most of the afflicted, Sarah had been forbidden to marry. But she ’ d wanted a child so badly. And he ’ d wanted to make her happy …
    Levi grimaced away the sadness. To avoid wallowing in memories, he opened his notebook and flipped to the last page. He would record his journey by sketching. A journal to pass on to his son. But so far all he ’ d encountered were waves of noxious amarantox. Nothing different or exciting to draw. Not that he wanted exciting; he ’ d settle for a boring trip all the way to the Fosselites and a boring trip back. If only he didn ’ t have the blisters.
    He allowed his eyes to drift closed.
    Rustling foliage startled him awake. How long had it been? Holding his breath, he didn ’ t twitch in the still, muggy air. If cannibals found him, he ’ d be roasting by dark.
    The noise continued, and his heart raced. What were they doing? It sounded like they were harvesting the amarantox seeds. Cannibals might be desperate, but they weren ’ t stupid. Not even pigs or goats could eat the toxic weed in any quantity.
    Whatever was moving through the weeds came closer. He shrank into as small a space as he could. This might be the end. God would punish him for thinking to circumvent His will, just like the Brethren said.
    The sound moved past into a thicket of tamarisk by the water. Branches snapped and twigs rattled.
    Unable to resist his curiosity, he pulled the blanket tight about his head and raised his eyes above the level of the foliage. A golden tan and white goat-like creature tugged at the gray-green fronds of tamarisk.
    In a flash of motion, almost too quick to see, the creature flicked long ears, launched straight into the air on stiff legs, and bounded into the weeds, followed by a second animal Levi hadn ’ t seen.
    His mouth widened in a silent exclamation. It hadn ’ t been a goat. He was familiar enough with the blocky form of the village milkers. No, this had been more graceful. Delicate, even. And he ’ d seen that coat once before, many years ago when the old salt trader came through with a rare hide. “ A deer? ”
    He pulled out his pencil and sketched madly before the image faded from his mind.

    The Garden
    Haldanian Protectorate
    Sunlight flooded through the transparent nuvoplast walls and ceiling of the Garden, allowing children to photosynthesize without exposure to deadly ultraviolet rays. Air conditioning units kept a comfortable breeze flowing through the building. Tula urged Jo Boy toward a group of nearly naked nine-year olds sitting on the floor. Twenty bald, green heads turned his way, and he backed into Tula, his breathing rapid. His attention darted nervously between the sitting group and another class of