The world was green.
Marcus blinked, staring out the window of the bullet train.
Four hours ago, they were buried in snow. Now, emerald fields stretched to the horizon. Vineyards rolled over gentle hills. Cypresses stood like sentinels against a sky so blue it looked painted.
"It's... impossible," Marcia whispered. She pressed her hand against the glass.
"The Alps blocked the fallout," Lucilla said, looking up from a datapad. "The nuclear winter never crossed the mountains. Italy is untouched."
Inside the train, the refugees were weeping.
They crowded the windows, pointing at trees, at birds, at the sun. Children who had only known gray ash were seeing color for the first time.
"It's paradise," Decimus murmured.
Marcus didn't smile. He was cleaning his vibro-sword. The purple blade hummed as he wiped oil from the emitter.
"It's quiet," Marcus said.
"It's peaceful," Marcia corrected. "Enjoy it for five minutes, Marcus."
"Titus froze the north to kill us," Marcus said. "Why did Vane leave the south green? He doesn't do charity."
He looked at Narcissus.
The giant was slumped in the corner of the luxury cabin. His systems were offline. Galen had opened a panel on his leg and was soldering a wire.
"How is he?" Marcus asked.
"Bad," Galen said without looking up. "His knee servo is fused. The heat from the re-entry burned out his primary coolant loop. He needs a fabrication bay, not a soldering iron."
"Can he fight?"
"He can stand," Galen said. "Maybe walk. But if he tries to run, he'll tear himself apart."
The train began to slow.
Smooth deceleration. No screeching brakes.
"Why are we stopping?" Marcus stood up.
"Track obstruction," the automated voice announced. [WARNING: BIO-DENSITY CRITICAL.]
The train glided to a halt.
Outside, the track disappeared.
It wasn't a barricade. It was a jungle.
Vines as thick as pythons wrapped around the rails. Trees had burst through the concrete sleepers. It looked like the forest had attacked the train line.
"That's not natural growth," Marcus said. "That takes fifty years. The war was ten years ago."
"We have to clear it," Decimus said.
"Teams of five," Marcus ordered. "Machetes. Keep your eyes open."
They stepped off the train.
The heat hit them instantly.
It wasn't the dry heat of the desert. It was wet. Heavy. It smelled of jasmine and rotting fruit.
Birds sang—a riot of noise. Insects buzzed.
"It smells amazing," a refugee woman said, taking a deep breath. She smiled, a wide, euphoric grin. "Like perfume."
Marcus frowned. He checked his HUD.
[AIR QUALITY: ABNORMAL.]
[OXYGEN LEVELS: 35%.]
[UNKNOWN PARTICULATES DETECTED.]
"The oxygen is too high," Marcus said. "It's hyper-oxygenated. Like a greenhouse."
He looked at a farmhouse near the tracks. It was covered in ivy, but the roof was intact.
"Check the house," Marcus said. "Marcia, with me."
They walked through the waist-high grass. Flowers bloomed in explosions of red and purple.
They reached the porch. The door was open.
Inside, dust motes danced in the sunbeams.
A table was set for dinner. Plates. Silverware.
On the plates, food had rotted into black sludge.
"They left in a hurry," Marcia said, touching a fork.
"Or they didn't leave at all," Marcus said.
He looked at the calendar on the wall.
[MAY 21, 2124.]
"Three months ago," Marcus said. "This food is three months old?"
"Where are the bodies?" Marcia asked.
Marcus looked at the corner of the room. A pile of clothes lay on the floor. A dress. A shirt.
He kicked the pile.
Bones rattled inside.
Clean, white bones. Picked dry.
"Something ate them," Marcus said.
Marcia looked out the window. "Marcus. Look at the trees."
He looked.
The trees were moving.
Not swaying in the wind. Moving.
A vine uncoiled from a branch. It slithered down the trunk like a snake.
A flower opened. Its center wasn't pollen. It was teeth.
"It's a Terraformer Zone," Marcus realized. "Vane didn't save Italy. He re-engineered it."
"Why?"
"Carbon capture," Marcus said. "To scrub the atmosphere for his space station. He turned the whole country into a hyper-efficient lung. But the plants... they're aggressive."
Outside, the refugees were laughing.
They were rolling in the grass. Some were picking flowers.
"They're acting strange," Marcia said.
One man was hugging a tree. He was giggling as the vines wrapped around his legs.
"Get off the grass!" Marcus yelled, running to the door.
He burst onto the porch.
"LEGION! BACK TO THE TRAIN!"
The refugees ignored him. They were dancing.
"It's so beautiful," the man by the tree said. His eyes were dilated. "Can't you smell it, Lord? It's sweet."
The vine tightened around his ankle.
Then it spiked him.
A thorn the size of a knife punchd through his calf.
He didn't scream. He laughed.
"It tickles," he giggled as blood soaked his pant leg.
"It's the spores!" Marcus screamed. "It's a narcotic! GALEN! THE AIR FILTERS!"
Marcus jumped off the porch.
He ignited his sword.
He slashed the vine. It shrieked—a high-pitched plant scream. Green sap sprayed.
The man fell. He was still smiling.
"Get up!" Marcus grabbed him.
"But the colors..." the man mumbled.
Marcus slapped him. Hard.
"The colors are eating you! Move!"
Around them, the jungle woke up.
Flowers turned toward the refugees. Puffs of yellow dust exploded into the air. Spores.
"Don't breathe it!" Marcus covered his mouth with his cloak.
He grabbed a woman who was staring at a giant orchid.
"Back to the train!" he roared, throwing her toward the track.
The refugees were stumbling, drunk on oxygen and poison.
"Marcia! Covering fire!"
Marcia opened up with her shotgun. Not at an enemy. At the plants.
She blasted a creeper vine that was trying to strangle a child.
"Get inside!" she screamed.
Marcus ran through the tall grass. He tackled Decimus, who was staring at the sun.
"Fight it, soldier!" Marcus yelled in his face.
"So bright..." Decimus whispered.
Marcus dragged him.
The vines were faster now. They lashed out like whips.
One grabbed Marcus's ankle.
He cut it.
Another grabbed his arm.
He ripped it free.
They reached the train.
Galen was at the door. He had a mask on.
"I reversed the AC intake!" Galen yelled. "Positive pressure! Get them in!"
They shoved the refugees inside. Pile them in like sacks of grain.
Marcus jumped in last.
"Seal it!"
The doors hissed shut.
The air inside was cycling. The sweet smell faded, replaced by the sterile scent of recycled ozone.
The refugees stopped giggling. They started coughing.
The man with the thorn in his leg looked down. He screamed.
"My leg! What happened to my leg?"
"You hugged a tree," Marcus said, breathing hard. "Welcome to the Garden of Eden."
He looked out the window.
The jungle was pressing against the glass. Vines were already crawling up the sides of the train.
"Can we move?" Marcus asked.
"The track is still blocked," Galen said.
"Burn it," Marcus ordered.
"What?"
"Overload the external heat sinks," Marcus said. "Turn the train into an oven."
"That will strip the paint!"
"Do it!"
Galen typed a command.
The exterior of the train heated up. 100 degrees. 200.
Outside, the vines smoked. They writhed and pulled back.
The plants screamed again.
"Now push!" Marcus said.
The train inched forward.
It shoved through the burning wall of vegetation.
Smoke filled the cabin, but they were moving.
They broke through the blockage.
The train accelerated.
Marcus watched the farmhouse disappear.
"It's not a sanctuary," Marcus said. "It's a petri dish."
"Vane is terraforming the planet," Marcia said, bandaging the man's leg. "Replacing us."
"We need to get to Rome," Marcus said. "Before he turns the Vatican into a compost heap."
He looked at the horizon.
Black smoke was rising in the south.
Thick, oily smoke. Not plant matter. Chemicals.
"That's not vines," Marcus pointed.
"No," Marcia said, raising her binoculars.
"That's war."
[ALERT: THERMAL SPIKE DETECTED.]
[SOURCE: FLORENCE.]
[THREAT: INCINERATOR LEGION.]
"Nero," Marcus whispered.
"He's burning the garden," Marcia said.
"Good," Marcus said, sheathing his sword. "I hate gardening."