Stormworld

Stormworld by Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor Read Free Book Online

Book: Stormworld by Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor
difficult to tell how much worse it’s going to get, but experts say we have a ways to go before any stabilization occurs. Wish we had some good news, but we don’t. Protect the seed bank at all costs, and continue working on hybrids that will grow in extreme climatic conditions.”
    Benitar shuddered with fear, and asked himself, “What am I supposed to do?”
    He switched off the virtual-reality screen and flipped the visor up, then rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. Mentally, he did the math. Six people on the repository staff, not counting Peggy and her soon-to-be born child, could last maybe four and a half months. With two extra mouths to feed—if they cut back even more on rations—less than four months, considering that the baby would eat and drink less than an adult.
    “Four months,” Benitar whispered. “It’s now October 31st, so the food will last until early March if we’re lucky.” He let his breath out slowly, and realized the irony.
    Today was Halloween. Happy Halloween. Ghosts, Goblins, bats, werewolves, spiders, and the undead, all knocking on the door. He laughed weakly, bitterly, knowing he would trade the real versions of all of those monsters for the most frightening monster he had ever heard of, the weather.
    A voice interrupted him, sounding as if it was coming from the VR headset he had switched off: “You have disappointed me.”
    Benitar opened his eyes and dropped his hands. As he did so, the virtual-reality visor flipped down over his face, and he saw the image of his father standing in front of him. The man was frowning. Feeling himself drawn into the field, Benitar Jackson no longer saw his office beyond it. He seemed to be inside the milieu, with nothing “virtual” about it. Seeing his father, he couldn’t help believing it actually was him. Somehow he had returned from the dead, and not like one of the costumed trick-or-treaters of All Hallows Eve.
    “I’m sorry …” he found himself looking beseechingly at his father. Though fifty-nine years of age, Benitar felt only eight in Avery Jackson’s presence, never quite able to free himself of the parental anger and disapproval. “I’m s-s-sorry,” Benitar said in a shaking, halting voice. “But I—I—did try to please you.”
    “Trying is not always enough.” The dark eyes were piercing, unforgiving. “You could have made a fortune as I did and had the power to influence public policy.”
    “What could I have done differently? The world is in chaos, and I’m not to blame for that.”
    “The class you failed at Yale cost you the position I got for you in the Environmental Protection Agency, where you could have risen through the ranks and had the power to do something with your life. You could have made a real difference in the world, instead of the way you’ve ended up, with your back to the wall.”
    Benitar wilted under his father’s disapproving stare. He hated that look. It made him feel so stupid, ashamed, and unworthy. “You weren’t paying attention to my life. I was hired by the EPA, but they let me go because I was outspoken like you, criticizing the do-nothing administrators.”
    “You were fired for incompetence.”
    “Exactly the opposite. I was fired because I was too competent.”
    “Admit your own failures. Face them and take responsibility.”
    “Dad, you’re not being fair to me.”
    Benitar watched his father turn and walk away, and in his path a burning river appeared, with flames flickering on the polluted water. Avery Jackson halted, oddly profiled against the orange glow of the fire. Putting his right hand up, he made a sweeping gesture across the scene, and the fire extinguished, leaving the waters of the river sparkling blue and clean and pure.
    “Dad …”
    But Benitar’s father walked out into the water, not once turning back to look, but continuing on until his head disappeared beneath the surface of the river.
    Benitar cried out, a doleful wail for

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