Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) Read online

  A shadow shifted by the latticed window, gaining Leaf’s preoccupied attention, and he gripped the card as his hand shook from the tightened muscles.

  “Is all well?”

  He startled, sucking in a quick breath, and then stared wide-eyed at his sister Willow, who stood in the doorway while averting her eyes toward the window. He said in a low raspy voice, “Yes, all is in order. Father is clothed, you may look.” Although Leaf’s hand shook, he slipped the card into his pocket with subtle movements and then cleared his throat. “Shall I leave, providing you a private moment?”

  Willow blanched as she glanced at their father with a drawn and melancholy expression, her breath hitching loudly as she shuddered against the forming tears. His sister’s eyes were puffy and bruised from weeping and lack of sleep, her cries through the night and morning adding to the heaviness in his heart. She shook her head with detached movements while studying the shell of their father and said, “I do not wish to be alone. Please remain in the room.”

  “Of course.” Leaf looked behind him to sit, noting a high-back chair, and then paused. “Where is Laurel?”

  His sister’s eyes rounded and she placed fingers over her mouth. “I am not sure,” she said in a sudden panic. “She remained outside as I went into the Great Hall to meet with Cook, and then I left and walked the forest, my mind drawn to other attentions.”

  “Willow,” he sighed in exasperation as he rubbed his temples. “This is our last opportunity alone with father before the procession. Shall I fetch her or will you?”

  Both glanced at the body stretched between them and then met each other’s eyes, and Leaf’s shoulders fell when Willow’s expression hardened.

  “How could you be so unfeeling?” She crossed her arms as angry tears trailed down her face.

  Leaf closed his eyes for a couple of heartbeats. His sister could be so infuriating at times. “What would you have me do? Laurel was in your charge. Our sister deserves final farewells, same as you.”

  “I did not set out to ruin such plans.” She looked at father’s belt around Leaf’s waist and then turned her head toward the wall. “You are not the only one affected by father’s death, Leaf Watson!”

  “Laurel is eight years old and you are nearly sixteen, a grown woman. I am not suggesting that you ruined such plans. I am reminding you that she needs our protection. We are her parents now.”

  “Protection from what exactly? That is a most peculiar statement.”

  His fingers touched the card in his pocket as angry thoughts continued to demand his notice. “Protection against the fear of losing a parent and feeling unsafe. We need to consider her feelings and needs above our own at present and, therefore, we should ensure she does not feel alone as well.”

  “Please do not patronize me. I am not a selfish person despite your claims of unladylike deportment.”

  Leaf groaned in frustration. “Stop twisting my words, Willow. I have said no such thing and would appreciate a modicum of respect.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” She dipped into a curtsy and then covered her face with her hands as she began to gently sob once more while peeking through her fingers at their father’s body.

  He lowered his gaze to the floor unable to watch his sister struggle, feeling guilt for his words spoken in irritation. She had stayed up late to embroider the oak tree on father’s tunic, crying most of the morning, especially when the undertaker brought father back home. At present Leaf did not possess the fortitude to endure any conflicts or strong emotions. He could barely meet his own needs let alone his sister’s, whose penchant for melodrama tested his patience even when he was of a whole and sound mind. But he needed to. It was now his responsibility to care for her needs, regardless of how he felt, and he would endeavor to treat her with the love father gave.

  He softened his face and said in a quiet voice, “I have felt my mind slipping away today as well.” Leaf offered a kind smile, and then opened his mouth to say more when a light knock sounded on the open door. Ember stood in the doorway beside Laurel with a solemn downcast gaze, allowing Leaf to regard her profile unnoticed.

  Willow turned toward the door and a smile formed through the tears. She knelt on the floor and then opened her arms. “Oh darling, I am so sorry.” Laurel walked into her embrace and began to quietly cry, peering over Willow’s shoulder toward their father.

  Leaf whispered, “Thank you, My Lady,” turning away as his face warmed. Did Ember hear his confession? Or his argument with Willow?

  “My father wishes to inform you that he shall arrive soon. The funeral pyre is prepared,” Ember said and briefly met his eyes with a crestfallen smile. He offered a quick nod of acknowledgement. “Laurel was happily playing with Corona, but I knew you would wish for her to be present when the ceremony bearers arrived.”

  “Yes, thank you.” He bowed, humbly paying respect for her considerations.

  She softly spoke, “I shall take my leave,” while quietly shutting their entry door.

  “Ember, wait,” he spoke urgently and then stopped. She tarried and studied his face as he hesitated to speak further. He blinked his eyes with shyness and then looked away. “I appreciate your care of my sister.” Ember dipped her head and then shut the door.

  Leaf stared at the dark wood and wrought iron braces, the handle rhythmically knocking against the door. The house dimmed, casting gray tones over his father’s skin. The sudden darkness quieted Willow and Laurel, who stared at the body with occasional hiccups and blotchy faces. Laurel nervously bit on her tiny fingernails as Willow rested her hand upon their sister’s small shoulder. Somber steps carried him to another cupboard, and he pulled out a ceramic bowl, fire nest material, and striking rocks. Within minutes he lit the main candles of their home with a lighting stick, positioning tallow tapers near the body, warming and softening his father’s features.

  “Come say your farewells,” Leaf encouraged softly, taking their father’s hand. “He shall soon be carried away to become one with the elements.”

  In a whisper, Laurel asked, “Will we bother him?”

  “No, ma chère,” Leaf said. He walked over and knelt before her. “Father is in Heaven. Although his spirit no longer resides in his body, he hears our words as we speak to him. I am quite certain of it.”

  His littlest sister bit her lower lip and then hesitantly walked to the litter. She reached out a hand and gently laid it upon their father’s, closing her eyes as tears squeezed through and ran down her cheeks. Willow walked up behind their sister, placed a hand on her shoulder, and then leaned down and kissed their father upon the cheek as Leaf had done earlier.

  “I love you father,” Willow spoke with a cracked voice. “Please give mother our love.”

  “Lift me up?” Laurel asked, glancing at Leaf over her shoulder. “I wish to kiss father as well.” Leaf lifted his sister and she delicately kissed their father’s cheek, pulling back quickly. “He is so cold. We should cover him with a blanket.”

  Leaf placed his sister back onto the ground as he exchanged a worried look with Willow.

  Laurel disappeared into their parent’s room, emerging with a woolen lap blanket, draping it across their father with loving ministrations. “There, now he shall be warm.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Leaf said with a smile. “I am sure he appreciates your kindness.” Laurel looked up at him with a happy smile and his heart constricted.

  A quiet knock rung through the silence and the flames bent and knelt before their father when the door opened. Connor stood in the doorway, stepping aside as Brother Markus entered their apartment carrying the Holy Scriptures in his hand.

  “The ceremony bearers are ready,” Connor said.

  Leaf nodded his head as he and his sisters lifted the hoods on their cloaks of mourning and stepped out of the way. Connor approached the litter and blew out the candles surrounding his father’s body, and then waved for the bearers to enter.

  The ceremony bearers represented the three remaining Noble houses
of the community—Connor, the Fire Element; Timothy, the Wind Element; and Alex, the Water Element’s husband—along with Jeff, the town barrister. The men lifted the bamboo poles and placed them upon their shoulders as they slowly marched from the apartment with Brother Markus at the lead.

  Leaf regarded each man warily, searching their faces for any sign that they had placed the mysterious card in his father’s pocket. He did not find a replacement item and no longer cared for such a tradition. The community may be astonished when nothing of value resided upon one of the head Nobles of their township, but Leaf would ensure that the legacy of his father was not summarized by an object. A heat flushed through Leaf’s body as angry thoughts began to simmer, but he cooled his temper to remain in control and to appear blissfully unaware. He was already entrusted with the biggest secret of New Eden Township. He could retain another.

  Laurel’s hand clasped his, and he looked down and offered a reassuring smile as they left their home. He squinted his eyes in the mid-day sunlight, listening to Willow cry as she stepped beside him. Mourners had gathered in the clearing, the sounds of quiet and muffled cries reaching his ears as his family descended the stairs to the biodome floor. Family groups lined up behind his and formed a procession. Brother Markus prayed in Latin as they marched with hoods high and heads low to the prepared funeral pyre placed next to The Rows.

  The cool air of the forest enveloped them as they traveled the dirt path, and a gentle bio-wind released a bouquet of autumn leaves to spiral through the air and rain upon their bodies. The mournful wind continued to breeze and the woolen blanket Laurel placed upon their father flapped, threads dancing in the air. The path eventually wound to The Orchard and into the meadow that framed The Rows, the agricultural gardens that nourished the community.

  A large metal structure punctured with sizeable holes had been wheeled into the meadow from the undertaker’s shop, filled with ceremonial wood and juniper branches. Additional juniper branches lined the outside of the metal frame for the community to set upon his father. Tall lit torches placed in the soil were positioned at each corner to mark the four cardinal directions, the wispy smoke ascending to the dome ceiling like souls released to Heaven. The ceremony bearers lowered the litter upon the prepared wood and then stood to the side as all the families encircled the funeral pyre.

  Brother Markus stood before his father and began to pray in a loud voice, “Thank you Heavenly Father for gifting us with Joel Watson, an extraordinary and honorable man. His life will forever bless our souls, and his memory will remain alive through the love and good deeds we extend to one another. It is with a heavy but thankful heart that we commit his spirit unto you.” The Holy Scriptures pressed against the monk’s heart as he lifted his free hand and gave the sign of the cross. In quiet, somber voices the community chanted, “Amen.” Brother Markus met Leaf’s eyes and nodded for him to come forward.

  Leaf glanced furtively at The Elements, each face creased and shadowed with grief. There were no obvious indicators that they or their families had placed the card on his father. Could it have been a resident from the village? His thoughts had been lost to the woods for a period, and he had not greeted those who came to pay his father respect. Although, Leaf’s apartment had only been officially open to the Noble families.

  He stood before his father’s body and swallowed nervously. Leaf reached out and placed his hand in one pocket, revealing it was empty, and then performed the same task on the other. Those gathered reflected mild confusion, including the Noble houses. This was the first time an object was not found upon the deceased before cremation. Objects were even found on newborns. Willow placed a hand over her mouth in astonishment and met his gaze with large eyes. Leaf maintained a steady countenance, ignoring the reactions, and turned toward Brother Markus for further instruction.

  “May the elder matriarchs come forth.”

  Four women in their late sixties and seventies came forward, the lead carrying a folded shroud in her hands. Practiced precision guided their movements and they quickly wrapped the ceremonial cloth around his father in several layers. Once their occupation was complete, they each picked up a juniper branch and placed it on top of his father’s body, bowing as they did so. The community formed lines on either side of the funeral pyre, placing juniper twigs and branches upon the shrouded body, bowing before his father’s corpse.

  When the last family paid their respects, the Fire Element came forward and provided Leaf an unlit torch. Leaf straightened and approached the burning torch representing North, the cardinal direction that signified the Earth Element. He extended his arm and watched as a flame sparked to life, burning brightly and smoking heavily. With a shaky arm, he faced the funeral pyre and slowly lowered the torch until the flame connected with the juniper branches. The twigs and branches quickly became consumed with fire, veiling the pyre in thick smoke, and the crackling roar of burning wood rushed in his ears.

  He dropped the torch onto the funeral pyre and took a step back before his knees gave way and he knelt before his father, touching his forehead to a verdant patch of earth. Sorrow convulsed through Leaf’s entire body, and his shoulders shook, trembling beneath the weight of his grief and the weight of responsibility.

  Leaf needed to make a decision. His father’s voice reverberated throughout the corners of his mind to leave and abandon the community while Leaf’s gut shouted to remain and uphold his new position. Both were terrifying situations, most especially in light of the card in his pocket. Slowly Leaf lifted his head and glanced at Willow who stared at the fire in a trance, her face a perfect storm of grief. His pulse began to calm in his chest, quieting his raging thoughts; and Leaf anguished over which path to take until a visceral knowledge appeared and marked the map outlining his future. Leaf knew exactly where he should go and what he should do.

  His sister turned her head and met his gaze, arching a single eyebrow, the flames of the funeral pyre flickering in her eyes.

  ***

  Space Biosphere Ventures began in the 1960s as a group inspired by space exploration and the potential for profit that space exploration promised. In an effort to see how people might survive in a closed system, the group began to build Biosphere 2 in 1987. With funds from Texas billionaire Ed Bass, the group completed their project in 1991, and in September of that year eight people were sealed inside the glass and metal structure and given no more food, water, or oxygen other than what they could provide for themselves from the diverse habitats—biomes—placed inside.

  —Brandon Bishop, “From Prototype Mars Colony to Earth Science Laboratory: A Sketch of Biosphere 2,” Field Notes and New Finds, October 6, 2012

  I have begun a new era for technology and sociology. New Eden Township, my biodome city, will surpass all that science experienced and desired from the Biosphere 2 Project in the early 1990s. My dream is that a whole generation will be born and raised in this artificial world, using ideas and gaming methods from live action role-playing to create a new world within a world as an experiment that will test Isolation, Confinement, and Extreme (ICE) Environment Syndrome. Forget colonizing Mars and the moon just now—we still need to study the human psyche while it is disconnected from our home planet. It is time to colonize Earth once again. But instead of through military prowess and nationalism, it will be through the space age of sustainability and fantasy role-playing.

  —Hanley Nichols, on Atoms to Adams Daily Show, August 15, 2030

  ***

  New Eden Township, Salton Sea, California

  Tuesday, September 29, 2054

  After hours of struggle the weight in her chest gave way, and she slept, tormented and locked away in a tower of twilight-tinged nightmares. Now, a sound pulled her back, and her eyes flickered open in the pre-dawn moonlight, frantically blinking away the sleep. She inhaled deeply to steady her rapid breathing as her eyes strained to recognize the shape in the darkness. She shook away the nonsense of seeing a ghost, yet the voice and shape peering in through the opened
door was reminiscent of her recently departed father.

  Had it really been nearly three days since his death?

  The identity of the form materialized as her eyes adjusted, and she resisted the urge to turn toward the wall. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, wishing the form belonged to an apparition after all. He was the last person she wished to see just now.

  Leaf, her brother, slowly crept into the shadowed room and shut the door, silencing the click with measured movements.

  Familiar resentment toward her older sibling began to fester, an additional emotion she did not wish to feel this night. The cool dampness on her pillow was evidence that she had suffered enough tears and had none to spare for her brother’s insensitivities. His sense of duty did not consider or show compassion toward her grievances. Instead, Leaf demanded in a quiet yet firm voice that she control herself, behave as a lady should—and he never hesitated to provide private and public corrections—all the while completely ignoring her expressed discontent. Laurel, their eight-year-old sister, received Leaf’s adoration and enjoyed a doting brother while she, the second-born, received only his dutiful attention and nothing more.

  “Willow.”

  Cold fingers touched her shoulder, and her skin startled in response, ruining her plan to feign sleep. With a resigned groan, she opened her eyes and looked up at the silhouette of her brother leaning over the bed.

  “My name is Oaklee,” she said, preferring the nickname her father used.