Free The Seeds of Time by Kay Kenyon

Petya cried as he ate, but Clio didn’t cry. Her eyes were rigid, made of glass, and the sap of her body pooled way down, in her ankles, her feet
.
    They drove through the night. The gas tank was nearly full, and they were grateful that they wouldn’t need to stop. They felt safe as long as they kept moving. Clio dozed off in Hillis’ arms.
    Hours later, she became aware that the car had stopped. She fought off the moment of waking, not wanting to remember. It was dawn. Hillis slept next to her, curled tightly into his half of the seat.
    “Where are we?”
    “We’re headed into downtown. Traffic’s backed up,” Zee said.
    “I’ll drive for a while.”
    “Don’t bother—since you two are so cozy back there.”
    “I said I’ll drive.”
    Zee turned around. Traffic was at a dead stall. “Never mind. I’ve driven this far, I’m going to finish it. Besides, you’re not such a hot driver, to tell the truth.”
    Clio wound up to lob a response back, then stowed it. Something was going on here and not a driving contest, either. Well, it was obvious. Zee was jealous of Hillis.
    After a stony silence, Zee managed to say, “Just kidding, OK?” He reached his hand back to find her, other hand on the wheel, inching the car forward in the line. Clio grabbed his hand, feeling tears surging. He cupped his hand around her head, pulling her forward, closer to the front seat, stroking her hair.
    Police sirens wound their way past the line of cars. Then the
whup-whup
of a helicopter.
    “Something’s up,” Zee said. “Maybe its a sabotage.” It was still too dark to see anything up ahead. Hillis woke, moaning.
    “I think he’s got a broken rib,” Clio said. “We’ve got to get him to a doctor, could have punctured a lung.”
    “Why are we stopping?” Hillis asked. “This hurts like hell.”
    “Police are all over the place. Something up ahead.”
    Hillis groaned in answer.
    Clio leaned forward to see the readout on the dash: no alternative routes available, everything was clogged, with people abandoning the freeway, seeking bypasses. Predicted delay: undetermined. This meant it was an incident.
    Zee tuned in the radio, and the broadcast was full of the story. Freeway sabotage, a bombing. Dozens of cars mangled. Old Greens taking credit, claiming another victory against the automobile.
    “Hope they shut the fucking freeway down,” Hillis said.
    “We’re driving this freeway too,” Clio said hotly. “These folks have as much right as we do to drive.”
    “Well, we drive once a year, these people practically live in their cars.”
    “So just blow them up?”
    “Just set an example with a few of them.”
    “Christ, Hillis,” Clio said softly.
    “Shut up,” Zee said. “I’m calling Biotime.” He was on the car phone.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Hillis demanded.
    “I’m invoking some privileges. You’ve got a serious injury, Clio’s been beat up, I’ve been driving all night, and I’m getting a chopper. Biotime can damn well pay for it and be grateful we don’t want anything else.”
    An hour later the chopper came, in a turbulence of wind and noise. They were herded inside its belly, and it rose over the sea of parked cars, headed toward Boeing Field.
    As the chopper banked sharply, Clio looked down, straight into the massive crater that now split the freeway in two. A dozen or so twisted cars were scattered within the crater’s puckered lips, some of them still burning.

BEYOND
EDEN

CHAPTER 5

    Clio ran. There had been no missions, no work to do for six weeks, and she was getting soft, so she ran. Vanda’s track was a broad yellow stripe on one side of the main corridor, well-used most day periods; you don’t want to lose bone density, or muscle mass. You don’t want to lose your mind with the boredom, with being shut in. She veered off to the gym to cool down.
    In the middle of her stretches, she looked up to see Brisher standing in front of her. Wearing a baggy saffron business