Gardens of Destruction

They awoke nearly in unison, nestled within the bunker’s confines which, despite its promise of safety, compelled them to huddle together in a single room through the night. The archaic generator struggled to meet their power needs.

“Professor, when will we fire up the reactor so we can freely roam this base?” General Patterson teased, his tone light and jesting.

“I... I haven’t yet perused the documents you left me,” the professor admitted, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Relax, I’m only jesting. Take your time; its operation will be crucial for us.”

“I’ll give it a try,” the professor responded humbly, a modest glint in his eye.

General Patterson was in unusually high spirits, seemingly unaffected by the previous night’s heavy discussions that had weighed on the others.

“Let’s go to find some food. No, first coffee, and let’s catch up on the news. Then we’ll tackle today’s agenda. What’s with the long faces?” he inquired, puzzled by their somber mood.

“We’re not downcast, merely apprehensive,” Andrey shared.

“We must remain resolute now more than ever; to falter is to concede victory to our adversaries.”

“You’re right. Yet, it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t shelter everyone here.”

“Ah, that’s your concern.” Patterson recalled. “We covered this ground yesterday. We agreed to be selective. Let’s first fill the essential roles, then consider others if space permits. Regrettably, it’s the only way. We can’t save everyone; others must fend for themselves. It’s unlikely they’ll all be drawn into the object; even our adversaries must have their limits.”

His acceptance of their silence as agreement, though he knew it would take them time to truly come to terms with the notion of selection.

Together, they made their way to the command center, where they fired up the monitor, scanning for any international broadcast since American channels had gone dark. They stumbled upon a news feed.

“...latest updates confirm all objects have landed at their calculated destinations. Nations housing these new asteroids have exhausted their military might attempting to thwart the landings. Reports indicate all such efforts have failed. The pressing question now is whether we face the same fate as America. Will other continents endure similar assaults and ensuing chaos...?”

“Enough of this,” the professor sighed, drained by the bleak news.

“Indeed, it appears we’re heading towards catastrophe,” Andrey concurred.

“Professor, how long do we have before these new objects open and unleash their inhabitants?” Patterson looked expectantly at the scholar.

“I can’t be certain. But I suspect less time than the first?”

“Why do you think so?”

“Consider our asteroid as the rear guard, surveying its landing site and the civilization it encounters. Now informed, the others needn’t be as cautious. That’s my theory.”

“It makes sense!” Patterson agreed, his head resting thoughtfully on the table.

“Of course, we can’t be sure; their thought processes are alien to us,” the professor cautioned.

“Fear not, we’re beyond accountability now. No one knows the fate of other leaders. They’re either abroad, hidden in bunkers, or too fearful to show themselves. I tried every secret communication channels last night to no avail,” Patterson lamented.

“I have an idea!” Andrey interjected, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Can we broadcast radio from here on certain frequencies?” he proposed.

“I believe so,” Patterson shrugged.

“Let’s pick a nearby town, not the closest. We’ll broadcast a message seeking individuals with specific skills. We’ll vet them on site and bring the most promising ones here.”

“An intriguing suggestion,” Patterson nodded. “It has merit, but what if we’re inundated with scores of engineers, hundreds of doctors, and countless carpenters? What then?”

“That hadn’t crossed my mind,” Andrey’s enthusiasm waned.

“We’ll figure something out, Andrey. A radio broadcast is a great idea. As for recruitment, we need a different approach,” Patterson encouraged, rising from his seat, ready to face the day’s challenges.

They were en route to a nearby town, hoping to scavenge for tools, fuel reserves, and other essentials. They had decided to assess anyone they encountered, determining if they could be of use. The bunker was left under the watchful eyes of the soldier and the professor alone.

“Andrey, people often misconstrue you,” the general began as they journeyed.

“How so?”

“Your imposing stature,” the general elucidated, “instinctively, and quite subconsciously due to societal stereotypes, folks tend to equate such physicality with a lack of intellect.”

“Ah, that old chestnut!” Andrey chuckled, his broad smile revealing a keen awareness of the misconception. “They see me as nothing more than a bundle of muscles.”

“Yet, you’ll prove invaluable, I’m certain of it. It’s a boon to have you on our side.”

“But not for long, General! I’ve pledged my aid to fortify this base, but once that’s done, I must depart,” the towering soldier declared with unwavering resolve.

“And where will you go?” Patterson inquired, curiosity piqued.

“Where do you think? I have a family to return to.”

Silence fell upon the general for a moment.

“Son, I too have kin—children, grandchildren—but you do realize, venturing out now would be akin to a suicide mission?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps not!” Andrey’s voice was firm, his smile unyielding. “I might stand a chance. After all, this is my planet. It’s they who should tread cautiously, unfamiliar with our ways.”

“Your recklessness is endearing. I understand your resolve all too well.”

The car was enveloped in silence, each lost in contemplation of their fate and the shape of days to come. These two resolute men, bound by circumstance, could only wonder at the path destiny would carve for them.

Upon reaching the town, they were met with desolation. The streets were barren, void of life. Had everyone fled, or had the invaders already swept through? Or was it a grim blend of both scenarios?

“Stay vigilant,” the general commanded instinctively.

Andrey gripped his newfound favorite blade in one hand and a compact submachine gun in the other, both salvaged from the base. They commenced their sweep of the stores. It appeared that food and weaponry were the primary targets of looting. Thankfully, other vital items remained untouched, providing a glimmer of hope for their mission.

“Was this place attacked?” Andrey pondered aloud.

“I doubt it. I’ve seen towns ravaged by... them. This place seems merely abandoned. It was never densely populated to begin with. The youth, in particular, flocked to the cities.”

A clatter from one of the houses drew their immediate attention, weapons at the ready. Suddenly, Andrey’s laughter broke the tension.

“What’s gotten into you?” Patterson looked on, baffled.

“General, take a look at who’s spying on us from around the corner!” Andrey pointed, his laughter echoing through the empty streets.

A charming canine face peeked out from behind an abandoned dwelling, one ear flopped endearingly, rendering it the spitting image of an animated film character.

“Hey there, little one, don’t be afraid, come here!” Andrey called out in Bulgarian, remembering his mother’s wish not to forget the language of his family.

“What if it doesn’t speak Russian?” Patterson jested, barely containing his laughter.

“It’s not Russian actually”

To General’s astonishment, the dog emerged, tail wagging uncertainly, and approached them with hesitant steps.

“It understood me!” Andrey beamed, his smile lighting up his rugged features. “A polyglot dog, no less!”

They remained motionless, and soon enough, the dog came closer, seeking affection. Clearly, it had once known the warmth of a home, but now it was left to fend for itself. They fashioned a makeshift leash and unanimously decided to provide it refuge in the base.

“I’ve got it!” the general exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. “We’ll name it Polyglot! Sounds Greek, doesn’t it, Andrey?”

“Ha! You do have a sense of humor, General,” Andrey roared with laughter. “Polyglot it is, or Polly for short!”

In that instant, Polly’s ears perked up, alerting them to an unseen presence. Both men instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons, their postures shifting to one of readiness.

“There’s something out there,” the general stated the obvious, his voice tense with anticipation.

From one of the houses, a frightened voice echoed, pleading, “Please, don’t shoot, I’m harmless. Please, don’t hurt me.”

The general, now skeptical of any voice in these uncertain times, commanded, “Step out now, hands raised!”

The reply came even more pitifully, “I can’t, Sir! My leg’s broken.”

Exchanging wary glances, Andrey and the general contemplated whether this was a trap. Andrey shook his head, his vast experience telling him otherwise, and the general sensed it was safe to trust his judgment.

“Alright, we’re coming to you! Keep talking so we can find you,” the general instructed, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Over here, can you hear me well? This way.”

“No need to shout, just speak normally,” Patterson soothed the unseen stranger.

It took them only moments to reach the house from where the voice was coming. They cautiously entered the room where the man claimed to be. There they found him, a man in his mid-forties, slight of build, with small round glasses, his leg crudely bandaged with sticks and a strip of cloth.

“Thank God, real people. I thought I’d rot in this hole. Been stuck here for days, unable to move.”

“What’s your name?” Patterson inquired politely.

“Ralph Jonas, Sir! But everyone calls me Doctor Jo.”

Exchanging glances, Andrey and the general couldn’t believe their luck.

“You’re a doctor?”

“Yes, Sir, ER. We were called for a dying old man. If you don’t believe me, his body’s upstairs, dead.”

“No, that’s alright,” Andrey grimaced.

“The family called us, but when we arrived, they said they couldn’t take him and disappeared. Soon after, we heard gunshots. I ran and tripped down the stairs. When I woke up, everyone was gone. And here I am, with a broken leg.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. You won’t be left behind,” the general reassured him.

Overwhelmed, the small man bit his lip, his eyes welling with tears, unable to articulate his gratitude.

“Steady on, Doctor, we’ll need you. No tears now,” Patterson remained unmoved by the display of emotion. “Andrey, help me get him to the car.”

“And... where are you taking me?” the doctor asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

“You’ll see. Let’s get you loaded up, then we can talk.”

The man offered no resistance, resigned to his fate, believing his end was near.

After a bit more scavenging, they decided it was time to head back to the base. On the way, the general finally deigned to enlighten the doctor about their situation. The doctor listened intently to the military man’s explanations and finally spoke with solemnity.

“Sir, I pledge to serve you faithfully and assist the people in the base unreservedly.”

“Easy, Doctor, no need for such formality!” the general chuckled. “We’re just as glad to have stumbled upon you. Welcome to our little community.”

Tears flowed anew from the small man, Andrey unsure if they were borne of relief or sorrow, or perhaps just a need to weep.

As evening fell, they arrived safely back at the base, where an anxious Professor Bernstein and Private Anderson awaited them.

“Professor, meet our new doctor – Doctor Jonas,” the general introduced the new arrival.

Bernstein shook hands with the newcomer, though his mind seemed preoccupied with something else.

“General, come quickly, there’s something you need to see!” he urged, tugging at Patterson’s sleeve.

“What’s the matter?” the general asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “Is it the reactor?”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that... well, Anderson and I were exploring the base, and we found... the air force!”

***

They were awake! And felt. Horror! Fear! Sadness! The Other would come... but not alone, or maybe alone? They did not know. The Garden cannot, must not, does not want to be destroyed! The Gardens will be moved, and everything with them. So we, the Gardeners, decided!