In Debt to Bad Men: Riley

So Old Tony's 'boys' came by. They wanted money, too, but we didn't have more than two whole dollars.

I explained this to them, and they wanted to know where Mom and Dad were.

I told them they'd died, that they'd been buried under the house. One of the boys said something about ghosts and went white as a sheet.

So, then I asked, "How do I make any money?"

"Get a job," one of the boys said. I didn't like his tone of voice.

Boy number two elbowed him in the chest. "All right, kid. We can set you up with a job, kinda. See, the boss likes art, and writing. I seen the paintings upstairs, you're good enough for a few dollars."

I didn't like that idea, either - those splashes of color were the only color this entire miserable world had - but if it was that or losing something important - the beds, or the pots, or the candles - the sink. We couldn't afford to lose the sink, though we drank very little from it. The water didn't taste right, but we each took enough that we wouldn't -die- of thirst, every day.

I nodded.

"We'll come by every coupl'a days and take any pictures you can make, tribute for the boss, like. And we'll let you sell off anything you write, as a bonus. Don't worry about your bills - we'll take 'em out of your pay, see? Works for everybody."

So once again, we'd be in debt to the mob. I wasn't stupid. These men were criminals, and Dad's memory says they stole from us just as surely as the lady who took our bookshelf. They had different faces, maybe - younger faces - but they were the same kind of snow, you know?

But they didn't take our things, just our money. The value of money is only as much as what you can buy with it, and I know Dad wasn't able to buy much of anything without their black-market connections. Everything swung back to the crooks.

I hate them, too.

The Definition of Stealing: Riley

Today I met a strange woman. She banged on the front door, loud enough that we remembered that there was a front door - we'd never left the building. Father never wanted us to.

"Hello?"

I tried to speak like Father had.

His language wasn't like ours was. We had our own words, our own way of saying things. It's impossible to write out our language, because it has a lot to do with little movements and nuances of tone. It'd be a lot of dots, I think. Dots and swoops. Maybe I'll suggest that to the others.

But she understood me, I guess. "Someone home?"

I warned the other two to stay upstairs while I investigated. It was two shakes of a leaf, not something she would have heard.

"Yes, hi." I crawled carefully down the ladder, watching her curiously. She had pink skin, kind of, pinkish white, really, with black hair where her leaves were supposed to be. She was a human, then.

She folded her arms. "Where are your parents?" If she was surprised by my appearance, she didn't say so.

"Dead," I said. I couldn't really explain that their bodies were still alive, that it was just their minds that had gone. And really, it wasn't her business anyway.

She winced. "Ah. I'm sorry." She leaned down to look at me. "Curious little thing, aren't you. Do you live here?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "All right, well. I'm - ah. I'm here to inform you that your household bills haven't been paid. Since they haven't - well. Some of your things are being taken back."

"What."

I didn't really understand fully, other than she was going to take our stuff.

"Okay ... so, since people are living here, right? You have to pay money to the local government. When that doesn't happen, they send people like me to collect some kind of recompense - er, payment."

"But we don't have any money!"

She sighed softly. "Look, I get it, you know? And I'm really sorry, but if I don't come back with something, the boss will have my head. It's the principle of the thing, these days, anyway."

"Okay but ... how do we get money? How am I supposed to pay the bills?"

I was the oldest, by a few minutes anyway. I guess that makes me the one in charge - which makes everything, everything, my responsibility.

"Look, I'm not supposed to talk about this, but Old Tony is still kicking around. He'll be sending his boys by around Monday. Talk to them, they'll help you get things set up, all right?"

I don't think this is what Father wanted ... but we don't have any choices in the matter, do we?

She ended up taking away our bookcase, though she left the books when I explained that we needed them.

I don't know why we need them, but we do. She left the ones that were to teach us stuff, but she explained that if she didn't take some of the books, it'd be her head. She had to look like she at least tried to get proper recompense.

Whatever that means.

I really don't care if she loses her head, to be honest. But I smiled and nodded like I didn't have anything going on in my head.

I will never have someone like her take my things again.

Lean, Green, and Mean: Riley Moss

Well, no, we're none of us especially mean, but it rhymes, and that's the point, right?

My name's Riley Moss.

I found my father's journals - he hid them under the bed. It seems like now's as good a time as any to continue what he started.

So, my brothers are Casey and Charlie. I'm almost sad that it's only us three, when Mother and Father planned for more - but no, they couldn't have handled any more. They went full vegetable before any of us could even walk.

See, that means 'they stopped moving or talking or anything but being plants.'

It's really sad. I remember Father holding me in his arms ....

If I didn't have his journals, I think I'd be really sad. But he knew what was going to happen, and he tried to prepare us as well as he could. They both did.

Mother used to play music for us. I remember that.

Sometimes I imagine I can remember bits of what they used to be. Father's defiance, Mother's love.

It's only in my head, but it's a good dream.

In Darkness: Briar

I can feel the shadows closing in on me. It's a darkness that's engulfing my mind. My body is - wilting, despite the lengths I've gone to, trying to maintain myself.

In our quiet moments, Betina says that she feels it too.

I worry for the children. All three pots produced infants, and while I do my best to care for them, sometimes it seems like I can't even hear their cries. Like I'm lost in a fog that I can't recover from.

We produced another seed - but after consideration, we finally disposed of it. It wasn't as vibrant as the others ... if it even produced a child, could that child survive on his - or her - own?

The three who remain - we haven't registered them yet. We're not going to, not yet anyway.

It might be selfish, but I want them to grow up without the bias of their 'peers.' They'll be alone, having only each other for comfort.

Betina stitched together some stuffed bears.

Our time is coming.

I'm - scared.

We've dug a hole for ourselves. A grave, of sorts.

The children don't need to witness our passing, however long - or short - it may be.

Fruits of Our Labors: Briar

I could feel the life in that seed.

It turned out to be just a fruit, after all, but I wonder if that isn't because she was human.

Was.

Betina agreed to eat the fruit readily enough. I held her close as she screamed in agony. It hurt my heart. Maybe I didn't love her, but no one deserves that kind of pain. 

And I had caused it.

Still, with tears in her eyes, she said it was worth it.

Anything, she said, for a chance to be with me. To raise our children, to live into old age together.

Maybe it's because she was human before and I wasn't. I find her beautiful, more so now, with the streaks of autumn in her soft leaves. Her human self was like a cocoon, and once shed, it revealed something amazing. Perhaps I could truly appreciate her now.

I suppose I'm shallow, for looks to mean so much. But it isn't just her looks - she smells differently, moves differently. Even her smile is different.

Whatever it is, I'm more attracted to her now than ever. We expressed our affections - repeatedly - and produced three more seeds in one day. She smiled as she held them in her hands.

"I can hear them," she whispered. "They're beautiful."

We planted them right away, and began planning names that didn't have a particular gender association.

Riley, Charlie, Casey ... and Jamie, just in case.

Planting: Briar

By exposing the truth about the supernatural - admitting that I, myself, am something other than human, that I had known vampires, aliens, and more - I quickly became the talk of the town.

I don't know what will happen next. It's an exciting time to be alive, though, that's for certain.

The day they promoted me to be a prime-time news anchor - making me an overnight celebrity - was the day that I invited Betina over for the private wedding.

Betina Moss, that's her name now.

I didn't have a fancy ring or anything, but I was able to buy one that would be acceptable. She said the ring she gave to me had belonged to her father ... I feel bad; I know I'm not truly in love with her.

But she'll serve her purpose.

We consummated the marriage, of course. I just ... It isn't like it used to be, I'll say that much.

I mean - our bodies produced a literal seed. What even.

This seed looks startlingly familiar. It's just like the one I was given so long ago.

Will this spawn a child? Or a simple fruit?

If just a fruit - well. It won't be difficult to convince her to eat it.

We can try again after that - I figure, anyway.

If she doesn't hate me.

Of course I requisitioned some high-quality dirt, and a massive pot to plant in. I don't know what will happen - but I'm ready for anything.

I think. I hope.

Maybe?

The News: Briar

Aliens.

You know, of all the non-human creatures I'd thought I would meet, aliens did not top the chart.

I woke up in the middle of the night, couldn't sleep. So I poked my head outside, and a strange, echoing voice yelped - I'd nearly knocked him off the ledge that led to my front door.

"Sorry about that," was the only sane thing I could manage. I'll need to put up a railing to prevent the possibility of killing future guests.

His eyes. I remember his eyes most of all - they were huge, black orbs, holding all the knowledge of the universe. I wonder what secrets he could share with me.

We only spoke a short time - he couldn't very well keep his existence secret from the humans if I had a UFO sitting out on my front step - but it was surprising to know that I could make even a creature from beyond the stars laugh. At least, after his communications device made the necessary translations.

We're not so different. That's - actually kind of nice.

I planted the seed of an idea in his head - I wanted, very much, to do an interview with this alien.

That would be the first step towards proving that, at the very least, the world isn't as simple as humanity had once believed. That things we didn't yet understand are out there - waiting for us.

I've been making good progress at the news station, and I think I'll be running the place soon.

They've had me doing all kinds of things - I even got to do a stint as the weather man over the radio.

Snow, snow, more snow, snow for the forseeable future, and possibly some sleet later on.

Since there's no such thing as TV anymore, only the other people at the station - and the strangers I run into at the park - know what I look like, how different I really am.

It hurt to fork over all of my earnings to the crooks who run this town - but I had no choice.

After all, they're pulling all of the strings - mine included.

I've done a few news articles - positive spins on the things the criminals do. I feel sick about it - but with a gun at your head, what would you do?

Someone has to do something about - well, everything. The weather, the magic, the frothing lunatics - everything. I know I'm not going to be able to do anything great in my lifetime - I can feel myself getting older by the minute, and the scant sunlight that peeks through the clouds is just not enough to really sustain me.

But ... could I - is it possible - would I be able to create new life? This is an awful world to bring a child into. I know that. Still ... if I could leave more behind than my dead and rotting corpse, wouldn't that be something? To have a legacy?

I've never thought of the idea, not seriously. I certainly hadn't thought of being a father before I'd turned into a plant, and afterward, the idea seems ... well, ludicrous to say the least.

Maybe. I'll have to look into it.

There was that one blonde girl. She'd taken a liking to me.

She'll do.

Home Sweet Home: Briar

With thugs watching my every movement, I obviously could not leave now. So, I suppose I'm setting down roots - pun intended - in this dusty desert town.

It was the work of an afternoon to throw up a boxy house on stilts. Why stilts? The ground wasn't steady enough at the surface. They actually put posts about ten feet into the sandy dirt below. My suspicion is that magic has something to do with it - it always comes back to magic - but the 'boys' say that it's been that way as long as they can remember.

Forgive me if I don't trust the memory of the uneducated criminals of the area.

The house had no windows, and only a single level - but it had room under it to park the car, so that was something anyway. A narrow staircase linked it to the ground.

They set a large garbage can out front and hammered a mailbox into place, painting the numbers on the side of it in bold print, and drove away. So ... this was home. I had a typewriter, a collection of concrete bricks and wooden boards that could loosely be called a bookshelf, a handful of textbooks, a bed. I also - er - 'bought' a few children's books. I have an idea for how to gently undermine the mob, the government - everything. But I'll need to study the writing style.

The house was lit with candles, which wasn't a huge problem since the 'wood' was actually sheets of metal painted to look like wood paneling. One of the thugs had an artistic bent, and was quick with a paintbrush.

Water, I explained to them, was vital to me. I needed water to survive.

They told me that the water wasn't really fit to drink, suggested I try drinking wine or beer, since that was clean and healthy.

For, you know, a given definition.

I was insistent, though, and they set me up with a toilet and sink, even, the plumbing worked into one of the posts and linked to the main water supply. I never used to drink, and I shudder to think what alcohol will do to my new body.

They said they'd send someone to check up on me every day, take any new orders I had. Mondays, the money all went to the boss. I didn't agree with that, but I certainly wasn't in a position to argue.

Oh, and I still had to pay the city for the privilege of being on their land and using the water. The mob wasn't going to interfere with a good thing, after all. Fortunately those bills weren't exactly high at the moment.

Home, I guess.

Tomorrow, I'll get a job at the paper. That'll be new - when's the last time you've seen an actual newspaper? It's - it was anyway - all about the Internet.

Lucky Palms: Briar

The city of Lucky Palms became my destination when the car experienced a critical mechanical failure.

It seemed nice enough - there were even a couple of brief, warm days before the clouds rolled across the sky. The people were nice enough, a couple of places even had working generators powering the vital functions of the city.

Appearances can, of course, be deceiving. I didn't have much choice in the matter, though. I ditched the car on the side of the road and bought a new one from a shady-looking dealership. Well, new to me. The new car had obviously seen better days, but the dealer assured me it would last a lifetime if I treated it right, which I assured him I would.

It was while I was under the hood of the new car, checking it for faults.

"Hey - " a man's voice said.

I turned my head.

There came a loud crack.

Everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in a dark room, lit by a single dim bulb that flickered as it swayed gently.

I was definitely not thinking very clearly those first few moments.

I felt like I'd been hit in the head with a bat, which, I suspected I had been.

"You're a funny shade of green, boy," the man drawled lazily. At that moment I realized I was not alone. "What brings you to our little town?"

"... uh." It was all the more coherent I could manage. My silence did not impress.

The shotgun leveled at me, the click - that impressed me, at any rate.

"You one'a them aliens?"

An answer I knew! "Nnnnnnnnnnno." I said slowly.

"You sure? You ain't human, that's plain as day."

I winced. "I was human," I muttered darkly.

"Really now. Why don't you tell me about that." The way he waved the shotgun suggested that it was not a request. I decided then that I did not like guns. At all.

I sighed, dramatically. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell anybody about this," I said, egging him on.

"I ain't askin'," he informed me. "You'll do what I say, or I'll be eatin' salad for dinner."

A slow nod that made me wince in pain. "There's this school, see ...."

Apparently my tale was a riveting one. Eventually, he even put the gun down, and I relaxed a bit. He offered me a glass of water, which I gladly accepted. The story wasn't over - I was fairly certain he wouldn't drug me until after that.

"Here's how it is," he said to me, after I finished the story and the water both. "We've got limited resources here. Now, you tell me, you don't eat. That's useful, means I don't have ta feed ya."

Whoo. I wasn't going to die! Probably.

"Thing is, there's things need doing. And all that needs funded, see? So sure, I'll let you settle down here. We've got a plot of land, some supplies we can spare. You find a job for yourself, like a good little sprout. Every Monday, my boys will come by and collect whatever you've earned for the week."

I didn't like the sound of that, but ....

"I'll need to buy things for myself - "

He nodded. "You make a request, we'll put it through. Don't you worry, I take good care of my people."

"So - you're in charge of this town ... ?"

A laugh. "Me? Naw. Not officially. That's some puppet we put in as mayor. Behind the scenes though? Yeah, I run everything around here."

He gestured vaguely, and two men came out of the shadows of the room. One of them carried a hood.

"You tell my boys what you need, they'll get it for ya, up to a point. Don't worry too much about your budget - you ain't got one. That money you walked into town with? That's mine now."

He smiled, right before one of the men slipped a hood over my head. "I'll take good care of ya."

The End of Days: Briar

It was during my graduation ceremony that we got the news.

"Please remain calm," said in that exact tone, does not inspire calm or confidence, if you were curious.

Everyone was to return to their designated shelter. Keep calm, keep quiet, don't run.

"This is not a drill."

Well. I took that as my cue - it was time to get out. Whatever had happened, it was bad. Naturally, everyone was running, panic was rampant. It was easy to slip past the gates while security was busy rounding up the other students. I moved with calm, confident purpose, and no one questioned me - ridiculous graduation robes or no.

That mechanical knowledge I'd managed to skim from the machine?

Good for hijacking a car, too.

Next stop: anywhere but here.

Money for Brains: Briar

This year, they actually paid me to continue my education. I don't know if the right hand and the left hand are talking at all, but I'll take it all the same.

I think they realize how dire things are getting, and I'm probably one of the brightest students they've ever had - not to boast, of course. It's just, I am a genius. Everything comes easily to me. It's only natural that a place of learning would want to keep me around.

This is a fortunate turn of events, all the same. I'm going to need every penny I can scrounge up to relocate.

Nobody wants to talk about it, but the other day, all the lights went out. The powers that be handed out candles, and that was that. No more electricity - anything that can't be run on batteries can't be used. That includes the brain enhancer, not that I think I could get much more use out of it. It taught me a bit more about interpersonal skills, almost all of my gardening knowledge, and most everything I know about how machines tick. I think I'll be able to put these talents to good use.

Water's being rationed - I'm actually the only person on campus allowed to wash up, and that, I have to keep to a bare minimum. I dry out easily, see. The plant matter - it - I need more water than a human, and as much light as I can manage. I stole about sixteen candles and set them up around my room. It's still not enough, not nearly enough.

I'm afraid. Everyone's afraid. People are whispering more, terrified of everything that's happening. The one thing I've noticed is, despite the devastation, the world desperately craves news. They want to know what's going on in the world, to try and understand - perhaps, to try and prepare.

So the radio still works, even if it's only a cheap, battery-operated one. I can only imagine what the facilities at the news stations are like. Only one station plays music anymore, and with electronica, it's sometimes difficult to distinguish between meaningless static and the actual "music."

I'm not really a fan.

My response to all of this was to start up an exercise plan. I start with high-impact exercises like chin-ups until I physically can't do it anymore, then move to low-impact movements until even that's too much. I bathe after that routine, since the extra effort dries me out even more. Then I get to sleep.

Of course I'm maintaining my grades. I need this degree to be taken seriously as a journalist.

One of the frothing lunatics got loose on the night of the full moon. He was stronger than anyone else on campus, like the moonlight casts some kind of primal spell on the afflicted - or something, anyway.

I'm getting paranoid about magic.

Either way, he injured several students before campus security blasted his brains out, and no one's heard from them since they were taken to the school's medical facilities.

Were they executed as well?

Or are they infected with the same madness that first patient displayed?

I'm starting to think that no power in the world will be able to keep the world in the dark about what's going on for long - with, or without, my help.

Cannibalism of a Sort: Briar

Things changed, and they didn't.

My peers didn't seem to bat so much as an eye - to my face. They pretended they didn't even notice that anything was wrong. Maybe they thought this was my idea. That this had been some concoction of my own doing. After all, I was the one who tended the plant ....

I no longer needed to eat, so my rations went to someone else. Honestly, the idea of eating another salad was one of the most horrifying things I could imagine, given recent events.

Had there been others like me?

Had they been terminated?

The scant meat rations were bad enough - people often joked that they were 'soylent green' or something.

What if that was the truth?

I don't want to think about it. Just get my degree, and leave, that's the plan. But I think they mean to watch me for the rest of my life.

I'll have to get away - far away.

And then? Well. Then, I expose the truth.

From the monsters in our midst to the apocalypse that is upon us already, I'll cover it all. They can't hide their lies forever, and one day, I'll have more proof than my own disfigured body.

Maybe people won't trust me. Maybe they won't believe me. But I have to try.

What people will do with that knowledge, though ....

It can't be helped.

The Transformation: Briar

They have this machine that's supposed to quickly teach you everything you need to know about a new skill.

The little sprout was struggling, and I had the urge - I won't call it a compulsion - to ensure it grew up healthy.

Since I didn't know much about gardening, I figured I'd take the crash course on the subject. The science lab offered a class in the basics, and a book gave me a bit more insight. However, I finally decided that the best course of action would be to try the machine.

It took a total of eight sessions for me to learn everything I needed to know: three times I accidentally set my hair on fire, and had to put it out in the sink. But I finally knew enough to properly tend - whatever freakish mutant plant had become my responsibility.

I swear by everything you hold holy, the thing was alive, in a 'more than plantlike' sense. It moved slightly, here and there. It wilted when I cursed and ranted at the world, and it stood tall and proud when I praised it.

Imagine my horror to realize the plant bled. Human blood oozed from the cuts when I trimmed the excess growth away.

That was particularly horrifying.

It withered and died when I plucked the fruit of its labors. Its task was done, and I held a smallish ... organ ... in my hand. It was green, fading into red from the top and the bottom. It resembled nothing quite so much as a human heart.

"What is this?!"

Naturally, I took the plant to the recruiter, who smiled politely at me. "Eat it," he suggested.

For my part, I stared at him like he'd grown two extra heads.

"Are you crazy?"

His eyes changed colors as I fell into their depths, from a dull hazel to a luminescent green.

"Eat it," he repeated.

My hands brought the fruit to my lips, and my mouth opened, closed, chewed, swallowed - all without my input on the matter.

I was somewhere - else.

"Good. You'll be staying here for the next few hours. I am eager to reap the rewards of my - ah - our - research." He smiled as I doubled over in pain.

Tears streamed down my face. I'm not ashamed. There was something wriggling its way through my veins, and as I watched, my hands and arms developed green blemishes.

I don't remember all the details of my transformation. All I recall is the unimaginable pain. I think I threw up everything I had ever ingested and then some. All the while, those green, glowing eyes stared at me, fascinated. "Good," he murmured. "Good."

The Plan: Briar

What I knew absolutely needed to reach the public.

At the same time, I couldn't release it too quickly, and I definitely couldn't afford to look like I was going to rebel against the powers that be.

So, I enrolled for a communications degree.

See, the training facility's front is a nationally accredited college, with programs covering every conceivable subject. The fact that they are training supernaturals - and me - to resolve the crisis the world faces is kind of a 'behind closed doors' sort of thing.

I planted the seed he gave me in a pot in my room, figuring that's what seeds are for, after all.

I didn't want to think too hard about what would come of it. I'm sure I won't like the answer.

The recruiter gave me an address I could find him at, said if I had any questions, I could find him and he'd answer them to the best of his ability.

I'm going to avoid him as much as I can. I already regret accepting this invitation.

Initiation Day: Briar

Initiation day was interesting.

Global warming, pollution, magical radiation - we'd been slowly destroying our world for years.

"Magical" radiation, I asked, disbelieving. My own experience - and everything I had ever learned about science - discredited magic as a fantasy. Make-believe, a game for children at best.

I felt foolish when he asked me if I believed everything I had been told.

The government had worked closely with the supernatural population to hide their existence from the public.

In exchange for secrecy, the vampires, werewolves, fairies, genies(?!), witches, and more worked to advance civilization by leaps and bounds, dragging us centuries ahead of our time. Wireless technology? More like magitek. Miraculous healing, the cure for what ails you? Actually miracles. Most of what we've accomplished for the last century was made possible only through magic.

And, he reminded me, sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology.

Funny that I'd always heard that quote the other way around.

The problem came when the magic became too powerful.

The older powers, immensely powerful witches, fairies, and vampires mostly, cautioned against the rampant abuse of things we could not properly understand. Nobody listened, of course - who would, when we were enjoying the advances of a civilization so far beyond what our own had been?

The world became saturated with power.

The weather was the first thing to go. Or had I thought the longer winter normal? Four more years, give or take, and the winter would become permanent, heralding in a new ice age. Spring might never come again - not within our lifetime, at least!

The people were changing, too. So far, the government had kept it contained, isolated - but people were going mad. They attacked their families, sometimes. Other times, when it took them, they shook to death, their mouths frothing as their brains were simply overwhelmed.

What did any of this have to do with me?

It wasn't my charm, brains, or good looks.

The government had collected a sample of my DNA, and it proved resistant to the magical deterioration. More, it was compatible with the program.

My recruiter handed me a seed.

"Welcome to the beginning of your new life," he told me. "If you try to back out now, you'll be found, executed, and discredited as a lunatic."

Good to know.

Introduction: Briar Moss

My name is Briar Moss.

I've always known I was different. Special.

I just never could prove it.

Sure, I was smarter than anyone else my age. A genius, even. I got top marks in school, but that wasn't enough. I needed to prove myself. When I got the invitation to join a government training project - a top secret one at that - of course I was interested.

Of course I accepted.