Botanicaust

her kisses. She forced him to drink, easing his fever with cool compresses as best she could. Today she ’ d collected seven beetles in an empty water bottle; the calm water around the tamarisk grove teemed with the creatures. If she caught one more, that would be four each. A feast. If Levi would wake for food.
    So far she ’ d seen birds, a fuzzy little black creature on the bank that disappeared into the water before she managed a close look, and a glossy-backed brown frog no bigger than her thumbnail. Why did the history books teach the Botanicaust destroyed all life? A slight movement in the water near a submerged tree caught her eye and she froze.
    In a shady pool, a dull gray thing moved. She leaned closer. A big fish swayed gently in a hollow beneath the roots. Squatting in wonder, she gaped at the animal. Levi had caught a tiny fish a few days ago, but it was dead before she saw it. This fish was as long as her fingertip to elbow, and fat. The flat face looked alien, sprouting whiskers that swayed in the slight current and beady little eyes. She wondered if it could see her.
    She slowly put her hand into the water. What did a fish feel like? Hard, like beetles? She hadn ’ t touched the other fish, in spite of her curiosity. The fact it had been dead bothered her.
    She eased her fingers forward into the water. Could a fish hurt her? The spiny whiskers looked potentially dangerous. But Levi had never mentioned danger. She just wanted to touch its head. Another living creature that escaped the Botanicaust. When her hand slid close, the fish darted forward and latched onto her fingers.
    Tula screamed and reared back, dragging the fish out of the river with her. It ’ s mouth in a vice around her fingers, the fish thrashed as she floundered backwards against a wall of trunks. On instinct, she bashed her hand against the nearest tree. The fish twitched and slid flopping into a shallow basin of roots.
    Shaking, she looked at her fingers. Pinpricks of blood marked a line where the fish ’ s teeth had pierced her skin. The fish lay half submerged, a small trickle of blood clouding the water. Did I kill it? The thought horrified her. She picked up a floating stick and prodded the fish. It thrashed a few times and lay still.
    She had to save it. Put it back in the water. But she didn ’ t want to get bitten again. Grasping it by the tail, she lifted it. It was heavier than she remembered, and slimy, slipping from her grip to plop into the water at her feet. Again it flopped, as if to swim away, and then lolled to the surface sideways. The huge mouth gaped open and closed once, as if gasping for breath.
    Hands coated in slime, she grasped the fish around the middle, trying to make it swim. No response.
    She leaned against the tamarisk. The bottle holding a few beetles bumped against her leg in the water. She killed and ate beetles without a second thought. How was the fish any different? It would be a shame to leave it here to rot.
    Tucking the water bottle into the back waistband of her skirt, she used both hands to lug the fish back to camp, feeling an awful lot like a cannibal.

    He woke yearning for her. How long had he lain here? His head spun with drugs, and he wanted another kiss more than anything. Not just the rush. He wanted the comfort of her lips, her hands against him, her firm breasts crushed between them.
    The sound of her rummaging in the pack near his head gave him comfort. He opened his eyes, wanting one look without her knowing he was awake yet.
    A dark skinned man crouched on the other side of the basket, digging through the emergency kit. Patterns of slashing scars covered his face and shoulders.
    Cannibals.
    A surge of fear shot through Levi and he rolled onto his back. Bolts of agony filled his vision with stars as he hit the burn on his shoulder. As his vision spun, he blinked to see a female cannibal standing over him, long brown hair straggling in multiple braids around her head. Symmetrical raised scars grotesquely covered her tanned cheeks and forehead. Strapped to her back, a dark skinned toddler peeked over her shoulder.
    “ No! ” He expected a knife at any moment, and rolled the other way, landing on his wrist. Pain shattered his consciousness again.

    At the sound of a baby crying, the slimy fish slipped from Tula ’ s grip for the twentieth time. Why was a baby in the desert? Leaving the fish, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the hollow where she ’ d