Terra

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. They are wrong.

San Diego, CA

Susanne Miller rests on a beach towel, liberally applying sunscreen to her long pale limbs. She reaches it out in offering to her sixteen year old daughter Angel, who looks up from her phone briefly and waves it off in annoyance. Susanne sighs but tosses it in her canvas beach bag.

"You're gonna burn. Reading under the umbrella won't save you. The sun is a lot stronger -"

"Yeah yeah, I know, Dr. Mom. I thought the point of time off was so you could stop working."

Susanne smiles at the familiar argument and holds up her hands in surrender. As a professor who earned her PhD in climate studies, her children are all too accustomed to her lectures regarding sun safety. "Fair enough, I will leave your sun damaged skin to you. When you're wrinkled like me by 22, don't say I didn't warn you."

She stands up, using a hand to shield her eyes as she looks out at the water. Behind her, Angel grumbles and snatches the sunscreen out of her bag. Susanne smiles to herself before furrowing her brow. She scans the horizon one, twice, three times before turning back to her daughter, a note of concern in her voice.

"Where's your brother?"

Limburg, Netherlands

Lois Bakker purses her lips as she surveys her crop of bright pink chrysanthemums. They are almost ready to harvest and she has high hopes that this crop will bring in her highest price yet at the auction house. She cannot identify anything that she has done differently this season yet the flowers are larger and more vibrant. It's been hell on her asthma but Lois could use the money after the year it's been. Her husband passed earlier in the spring in this very greenhouse and she's taken to spending her evenings here to feel closer to him.

She drifts down the row towards the spot where she found him. When she closes her eyes, she can still see him laying there. Tears begin to fall. "Nature's sprinkler," he used to call her. He was always teasing her for being overly emotional. Lois has been known to cry at well filmed commercials, beautiful flowers, and a stunning sunset. But even Jan would agree that to cry at the death of a loved one is acceptable. Twenty years of marriage and Lois is suddenly alone. Alone and fighting to keep the nursery they both loved afloat.

She gets down on her knees then lays on her back in the dirt. This part he would hate but damn him. He's not here. Lois lets the tears flow, feeling them trail down her cheeks and moisten the soil beneath her. She turns to one side and places a palm against the wet earth. She heaves a gasping breath, swiping at her cheeks with dirty hands before spotting something underneath the blooms.

An oddly shaped bud is nestled at the base of the plant closest to her. Lois frowns and reaches out. The plants have all bloomed. This must be a bud that failed to mature and yet it's large and swollen, almost pulsing. As she touches it, the bud bursts opens sending a concentrated spray of pollen in her direction. She chokes and waves the air in front of her to disperse the cloud. The bud, now empty and shriveled, collapses to the dirt.

Lois coughs and gags, using her hands to desperately try to clear the clinging yellow grains from her nose and mouth. Her mind races as she attempts to comprehend what just happened. What was that thing? She struggles to get to her hands and knees before she feels the breath hitch in her throat and panic roars through her system. The inhaler is on the counter at the front of the greenhouse. She remembers putting it down when she came in.

Wheezing with eyes watering for a different reason now, Lois attempts to crawl forward. Progress is slow but steady. For a moment, Lois thinks she might make it. Then her airway closes further and black dots start dancing in her vision. Just a little further, she thinks before realizing she is now face down in the dirt. She summons the strength to move her face to the side. As her vision fades further, she catches one last sight of another one of the strange buds beneath her flowers. The wheezing stops.

Five feet away from where Jan Bakker passed three months earlier, Lois's body will be found the next morning, her face coated with yellow pollen.

Dingmans Ferry, PA

Parker Davis stumbles over the curb as he leaves the bar. His girlfriend, Presley Lu, cackles behind him before tugging on his arm. "You sure you're good to drive, babe?"

He brushes her off angrily. "I'm fine. I'm a better driver than you on my worst night."

Presley snorts and rolls her eyes. "Way to stereotype, you ass. I'm a great driver." She tosses her shiny black hair and Parker once again finds himself staring at the best thing that has ever happened to him in his twenty-four years.

A daughter of second generation Chinese immigrants, her father named her Presley after his favorite American artist: Elvis. He likes to joke with her that when she was born, her shock of black hair looked exactly like Elvis' signature pompadour. On the rare occasions that Presley allows Parker to be in the same room as her parents, he has heard that joke no less than ten times which is probably why she insists he call her babe or baby or P. Anything but Presley.

He sighs, grabbing her hand and pulling her in close to his chest. "Sorry, P. You know the good ol boy comes out when I drink."

She pushes him back slightly with a firm hand. "Well stuff that bastard back in. Or neither one of you will get laid tonight." She winks and spins away, jingling the keys she swiped from his jacket pocket. He feels at his coat to be sure and curses. "Swear to God if you wreck my new truck, you can never call me racist again."

Presley sticks her tongue out at him. "Shut up and get in, you drunk. I'm horny."

A smile tugs at the corners of Parker's lips as he breaks into a jog across the gravel parking lot. Don't need to tell him twice.

Esmeraldas, Ecuador

Derek McCarthy pushes back the brim of his sunhat, checking the time on his large Rolex watch. He turns to the foreman on his left. "They need to speed up."

"Yes sir." He shouts something in Spanish and the workers pick up their pace. They stack tenera fruits in a large pile and wipe sweat from their faces with their forearms. The air is sweltering and Derek resists the urge to wrinkle his nose at the smell oozing its way across the fields from the processing mill. What a miserable place.

It's bullshit that he's here. On paper, he's "acquainting himself with the palm oil production process" but in reality it's a punishment from his new father-in-law. A lashing out by a miserable old fuck who's enraged that Daddy's little girl has a new daddy now. He smirks at the thought. Caroline is beautiful and oh so perky but his eye has been drawn to quite a few of the women down here already. He plans to sample more than just the local fare before going back home. His daydreaming is interrupted by the foreman and Derek snaps at him. "What?"

The foreman dips his head in apology. "Apologies, sir. Mr. Bradford requested we show you the mill as well."

Derek balks at the thought of getting any closer to that cesspool. "In a minute. What's going on back there?" He gestures to the far corner where kudzu vines seem to have overtaken the palms.

The foreman looks uneasy. "We have a problem back there."

Derek snorts. "Yeah, I'd say you do. Where are the men to cut back those vines?" The foreman averts his eyes. Derek can feel his chest puff up. Finally a chance to get his feet back under him. "That's what, an acre's worth of trees over there being choken? Get some men and let's go."

The foreman hollers something in Spanish again and the two nearest workers shuffle over. Two dark-skinned migrant men face him, the shorter of the two looking unimpressed by Derek's white button-down and chinos. Derek grins at him. "Tell them to grab their machetes. We'll be clearing that back patch."

The foreman relays the message and the two men shake their heads. The taller one apologizes, waving his hands and backing away. The shorter man argues briefly with the foreman before turning to Derek. He glares at him before spitting off to one side. "Pillo."

"What the hell did he just say?" Derek demands.

"He said sure, boss." The foreman replies quickly but cannot meet his eyes. Lying fucks. God he can't wait to leave this country.

The taller man has fled back to harvesting fruit so Derek snatches his machete off the ground and gestures towards the vines like he's leading a charge into battle. "Let's go."

He begins to regret his enthusiasm about halfway down the field. His slacks are sticking to his legs and his hat has fallen to hang from his neck, dangling halfway down his back. The blowflies that buzz and whine around the large piles of palm waste bite at him as he curses and swipes at them. The foreman and migrant worker seem unbothered by them, but they hang back about six feet behind him.

There is a sudden shift in energy as he steps into the overgrown patch of the field. He turns quickly to be sure he isn't alone and finds the two men stopped ten feet away. The foreman makes the sign of the cross, the other mutters another curse under his breath and spits.

"What are you, superstitious? It's vines!" Derek snaps. He hates the mystical woo-woo bullshit, hates the idea that there's some higher power that's secretly in charge of his life. No one tells him what to do, at least not once Caroline's daddy dearest is gone. Should be soon enough. The man's 74 and bloated.

Irritated, he spins back and marches up to the nearest palm. He takes a wide swing with the machete and slashes at the vines. They part easily under his blade and he smiles. He can get behind this Rambo type shit. He swings again and again, baring more of the palm's trunk. His next swing hits a snag. The machete gets stuck. Derek has swung too close to the trunk. He attempts to dislodge it. Grunting, he plants a dress shoe on the trunk in an effort to gain leverage and gets caught in some of the greenery. With a final effort, it comes loose with a rush of liquid and he falls flat on his back, one foot still tangled in a vine.

"Christ." He swipes a hand down his shirt and pulls it away. His palm is drenched in deep red. "What the f-" Derek looks up and sees what he has uncovered in the vines. A swollen carcass of a man is bound to the tree, mouth open and a deep slice in his side where thickened blood is draining out slowly. He stares in horror, barely registering the sound of the two men sprinting away.

He remains frozen in shock as he realizes something is protruding out of the corpse's mouth. Vines.

San Diego, CA

Timmy Miller floats on his back just off the shore, annoying babyish swimmies encircling his narrow arms. An almost total lack of body fat has caused him to be what his swim instructor refers to as "anti buoyant." His mother has only agreed to let him enter the ocean if he wears his flotation devices. She uses the technical term to make him feel better, but swimmies are swimmies no matter what you call them. He scowls at them then sticks his tongue out and feels a little better.

He hears a faint cry from shore and lifts his head up. His mother is waving at him from the beach and he waves back. She turns her wave into a beckoning motion. She wants him to come back in. As if it's not bad enough she's made him wear swimmies, now she wants him in the shallows too. He waves again before turning away, pretending like he didn't understand.

He puts his face into the water before turning it to one side, swimming with excellent technique just like his instructor taught him. He doesn't stop until he has gone a few dozen feet, bobbing back to a vertical position and looking back towards shore. His mom is now a angry figurine, arms waving up in the air. Her voice dies before it reaches him and it is only then that he realizes how far out he has gone. Sighing, Timmy places his face in the water again to head back in and sees a grey shape slide past beneath him.

He comes back to the surface, sputtering and choking. He turns to face it, attempting to move smoothly and minimize splashing. A large triangular fin rises out of the water. Timmy squeezes his eyes shut and mutters to himself. "They don't want to eat you, they're just curious. They don't want to eat you, they're just curious. This is their home, we just visit." He peeks through one half-opened eye and sees the fin drawing closer. His mother's words pound in his head and Timmy remains perfectly still as she's taught him. He doesn't move until the shark takes its first bite.

From the shore, he can hear his mother screaming. The shark takes hold of his leg. As he begins to lose consciousness, he realizes that it is in fact his own screams.

Edinburgh, Scotland

Isla Campbell whistles to herself as she makes her final rounds, triple checking locks on all the outdoor enclosure and shift doors. She calls a goodnight to Yang Guang in his hammock and chuckles as he rolls over and throws a furry black arm into the air. Lazy bear.

She makes her way into the off show area. Tian Tian has been keeping to herself more lately. The other keepers suspect that she's missing the extra attention that came when they thought she was pregnant but Isla disagrees. She feels a deep kinship with the female panda. Ten years of working together will do that. Along with Isla's recent miscarriage.

No one even knew she was pregnant. Isla wasn't sure she even wanted it until the cramping started. Now she finds herself drawn to Tian Tian in these hidden moments. It's impossible to tell for certain if she had absorbed the cub or was never pregnant in the first place. But from her demeanor, Isla knows. They are both mourning a loss.

She calls out to her softly. Tian Tian is in a corner, facing the wall. Isla approaches the front of the enclosure. She grasps the bars in both hands and chokes back a sob. The panda lets out a low moan. Isla echoes in kind. It is silly, she knows, to find comfort in the company of an animal that cannot understand her. But who else can she turn to? She never shares anything real with her family. They are far too busy being enamored of her older brother the doctor to worry too much about what their youngest the grubby zookeeper is up to. The father is not around anymore. Yet another in a long string of bad decisions she's dated. Isla is alone again. Alone except for the animals she spends every day caring for with a fervor she knows would have made her a good mom.

Isla is too lost in her own thoughts to notice the panda slowly turning to face her. The panda lets out a bark that startles her into looking up. Isla locks eyes with Tian Tian shortly before she rushes the front with a roar. Gasping, Isla stumbles back into the wall behind her. The panda swipes at the bars with a hefty paw and barks again. And again. And again. Isla claps her hands over her ears and curls into a ball. She doesn't realize she's crying again until she feels a hand on her shoulder and screams.

"You alright there?" It's Callem Stewart, the other panda keeper on duty. She stares up at him in shock. Tian Tian stops her onslaught with a final bark and moan then shuffles back to her corner. Callem helps her to her feet and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "What set her off?"

Isla stares into the enclosure where Tian Tian has resumed staring at the wall. For the first time ever, she feels a twinge of fear while looking at her charge.

Dingmans Ferry, PA

Presley Lu pulls up to a red light and glances over at her boyfriend, Parker. He is slumped against the passenger side window, fast asleep. She smiles fondly. She knew he would never make the drive home. The light turns green and she continues driving.

Her parents have no idea what she sees in Parker. He believes she keeps him away from her family because she's embarrassed of them and she's all too happy to let him think that. The truth would hurt his feelings and while Parker isn't exactly a knight in shining armor, he's a decent guy and she doesn't want to hurt him.

She bites the inside of her lips, an anxious habit. Presley knows Parker loves her more. There are moments when she catches him staring at her like he's seen something magical. Those looks are the reason they're still dating. Does it make her selfish if she keeps him around for the ego boost? The sex is decent, the white bullshit fairly harmless especially for a Pennsylvania boy. But she would've left him a while ago if he didn't act like she was so damn special. In her head, she can hear how awful that sounds. But the thought of dumping him is so much more exhausting than the thought of sticking it out so for now she stays.

The truck's headlights pick up a pair of eyes near the side of the road and Presley slows. See, she wants to wake Parker up and gloat. I am a good driver after all. Even more eyes pop up ahead and she brakes harder. A small herd of deer come into view crossing the road. Bringing up the rear is a large buck with an impressive rack of antlers. He turns to face the truck and the rest of the herd stops too. They all turn to stare into the headlights.

"Oh c'mon." Presley mutters to herself. She's exhausted too and has an early start tomorrow. She blasts the horn once. "Move."

At the sound of the horn, the deer all turn to face her. The buck takes a single step forward in the direction of the truck. A trickle of fear begins to drip down Presley's spine. She shoots a hand out and slaps Parker's arm. He groans and brushes her off. "Parker!" She says sharply enough to wake him.

"What, babe? Are we home?" He rubs his eyes and looks around. She points a finger out the windshield and he spies the deer. "What the fuck?"

"They won't move." Presley tries to keep her voice from trembling.

"What do you mean?" Parker chuckles and leans over to hit the horn again.

This time, the deer burst into motion. The buck lowers his head and charges at the truck and the does follow suit. They slam into the hood and Presley screams and Parker shouts. "Oh shit!" A couple does leap up high enough to crash into the windshield and splinter it, cracks running across its length.

"My truck!" Parker moans and Presley screams at him. "Fuck your fucking truck, what the fuck is happening?"

The onslaught continues and Parker's concern for the truck quickly turns to concern for their own safety. The does come again and again in waves, blood from their fresh scrapes and cuts smearing across the hood and windshield. A few of them collapse onto the hood from exhaustion or injury then slide off onto the road. Presley is screaming something and he cannot understand what she's saying at first.

"Where's the buck? Where's the buck?"

Parker has forgotten all about him until he charges up from the side, slamming his rack through the window and piercing Parker's skull in one savage thrust. Presley screams as the buck pulls back and disappears into the woods, followed by the remaining does who are still mobile. Parker collapses forward, making an awful moaning sound that continues until he stops breathing. Then the only sound in the truck is Presley's gasping sobs and the steady drip drip of blood.

San Diego, CA

Susanne passes a scalding hot cup of shitty hospital coffee to Angel. Her daughter takes it silently, dried tears still visible on her face. She curls up next to her on the sofa and they sip together while they watch Timmy sleep. Susanne breaks the silence first.

"God this really is terrible coffee."

"Told you." Angel chuckles next to her before stifling a sob. Susanne reaches out and tugs her in close. "It's okay, baby. He's gonna be okay."

Angel shakes her head, swiping at her runny nose. "He's not though. How is he gonna feel when he wakes up like this?"

They both look towards the end of his bed where one lone foot sticks up from under the thin woven blanket. Angel sniffles. "I'll never be mean to him again. I'm not gonna fight with him ever."

Susanne strokes her hair, kisses her head. "You will. He's still annoying." Angel chokes out a laugh before hugging her fiercely. They are interrupted by her phone vibrating from a deep pocket she's forgotten it in. Both sit up, Angel wiping her eyes again. "Is it Dad?"

Susanne frowns as she looks at the display. "No honey, sorry. I have to take this." She gets up, patting her daughter on the knee before exiting into the hallway and answering the call.

"Deborah? This really isn't a good time."

"No it isn't." The dean's voice cuts in, abrasive as always. "You're needed for a consult."

Susanne pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting back her rising anger. "No, Deborah. I'm unavailable. I'm at the hospital. Timmy is -"

"It's the President." Deborah interrupts.

"Of the university?"

Deborah laughs, the raspy sudden shout of a woman who smoked several packs a day for the entirety of the 7os. "No."

Susanne stops pacing. "What consult is this?"

All levity is gone from Deborah's voice now. "You need to come in. It's urgent."

"I can't do that. Timmy's in the hospital. He'll need to call me here."

Deborah sighs. "Can you at least get a conference room or something? There'll be several people on this call."

****

An hour later, Susanne is sitting at the head of a long empty table in the hospital's smallest conference room as a peppy pleasant voice tells her to please hold for Mr. President. A screen on the far wall displays the other six people on the call: Deborah of course in her office at the university, a couple military generals with an impressive array of medals on their uniforms, a fidgety man who looks like another professor of sorts if the room full of books and papers behind him is any indication, and two scientists from NASA. Susanne does her best to look put together despite the ill-fitting blazer she borrowed from a nurse to cover the blood-spattered blouse she had worn to the beach. Timmy's attack feels like it was days ago, not just this morning. It's been a bizarre day.

The President comes into view in the Oval Office, clearing his throat and steepling his fingers. "I'm sure you're all aware why I've called you here today."

"I'm not." Susanne interrupts before remembering herself. "Sorry, sir. But I honestly wasn't informed of the purpose behind this call."

The President lowers his glasses to peer closer at the screen. "Ah yes, Dr. Miller is it?"

"Yes sir."

"Professor of Climate Studies and Ecology at San Diego University. You've been conducting research of the effects of climate change on the national flora and fauna, correct?"

Susanne nods. "Yes sir. Am I to understand that this administration is finally taking my work seriously?"

Deborah sighs, the noise crackling over the speaker. "Arty if you want, I'll fire her right now."

Susanne cuts her eyes to Deborah. She had no idea she was friends with the President.

Arthur Hendersson, forty-seventh President of the United States, chuckles at Deborah's comment. "That won't be necessary, Deb. Dr. Miller isn't wrong. We could've been better prepared for our current situation if we had listened more to her work years ago."

Susanne leans forward. "And what situation is that exactly?"

President Hendersson coughs and gestures towards someone off camera. The pleasant female voice from earlier speaks. "Professor Sanders, would you be so kind?"

The fidgety man jumps to attention. "Ah yes, yes of course. I'm just going to share my screen here." Some fumbling over keys and his screen flickers in and out. "Umm just a minute here."

One of the military men cuts in. "We've been tracking a disturbing increase in the number of nature-related deaths. Animal attacks, environmental disasters, etc."

Susanne thinks of her son laying in a bed a few floors above them with one leg. "Go on."

"Here is just a sampling." The general shares his screen which reveals an alarming number of open tabs, each displaying a different catastrophic headline: "Deadly Asthma Attacks on the Rise," "Gruesome Discovery on Palm Plantation," "Man in Norway Killed by Whales while Kayaking." Susanne's eyes widen as she takes it all in. Was Timmy part of all this?

"This is...What is this?"

"Well," the President drawls, looking solemn. "We were hoping you could tell us."

"Ha, got it!" Professor Sanders pops back into view before the grid of faces is replaced by more pictures, this time of natural landscapes. Some shots seem to be of the Amazonian rainforest, others the Kenyan savannah, and still more from the Australian outback. Each shows an aerial view of what looks to be pictographs of some sort formed from the canopy, stamped into the grass, and carved into the red clay. "What is this?" She asks again and Professor Sanders answers.

"Well, it uh it seems to be Sumerian in origin."

"Sumerian?"

"Yes, Professor Sanders is the leading expert in ancient cuneiform." The President explains as Professor Sanders dips his head humbly.

"I'm one of the only people still studying it so it's a very small field." He demurs then clears his throat nervously. "But yes, it appears to be Sumerian cuneiform."

"How did it get there?" Susanne demands. Professor Sanders gives a half shrug.

"We don't know for sure. It appears to have been organic in nature."

Susanne scoffs incredulously. "You mean the trees did this?"

The professor gives a weak smile. "Well the savannah has been explained. As much as behavior like this can be, I suppose. The elephant migration pattern has been reported by multiple Kenyan authorities to be highly irregular this year."

Susanne studies the savannah image again. "Elephants did this?"

Professor Sanders nods. "The outback appears to be the result of various wildlife as well."

Susanne stares open-mouthed. Animals did this? It's unheard of. She doesn't realize she's said the last part aloud until Deborah's voice cuts through the fog.

"We know, Suze. That's why you're here."

Susanne shakes her head to clear it. "What, um Professor Sanders? What does it say? What did they..." She can't bring herself to say write. The idea is still too fantastical.

Professor Sanders averts his eyes and she can tell he's about to qualify another statement. "It's impossible to know for certain-"

"James." The President interjects with authority and he pales. "Tell her what you told me."

James slumps his head to one side before responding. "It can be interpreted as 'god hear earth.'"

Susanne feels a sudden shift within her. She grips the edge of the table as if the world has tilted and she's about to fall off. "'God hear earth?' Who is God in that scenario?"

One of the scientists from NASA finally speaks. "We don't know. But we believe we're about to find out."

Her mouth is dry. "Find out?"

The scientist who spoke nods. "There has been unusual activity in the stars too. Cosmic objects orbiting strangely. Getting closer to Earth."

Susanne nods slowly, still holding onto the table. Her knuckles are white. She looks to James again. "So when you say 'god hear earth'..."

He meets her eyes, perfectly still for the first time. "I believe it's a cry for help. And we believe something has heard it."