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The Plain of Bitter Honey by Alan Chin
Published by Bold Strokes Books
This story represents a dramatic turn in Alan’s
writing. It is a futuristic story of two brothers, one straight and one gay,
who battle a corrupt government and each other. This is a tale of survival, of
devotion, of love, of finding deliverance and atonement.
This novel is a
finalist in the 2014 ForeWord Review Book of the Year Award in the Science
Fiction and has received a fistful of Five-Star reviews. This is what Bob Lind, the reviewer for Echo
Magazine, had to say about it:
I've said in the past that Alan Chin is my favorite author, and
that is still the case with this new book. It is best described as a sci-fi/speculative/political
novel, so unlike any of his previous works I have seen, and he handles the
genre with mastery. The story is action-packed, well-constructed and expertly
told, with a diverse, developed cast of gay and straight characters working
together in situations that risks not only their lives, but perhaps the future
of this country. Bravo … five stars out of five.
Blurb:
Twins
Aaron and Hayden Swann are fighting a corrupt government taken over by ultra
right-wing Fundamentalist Christians in 2055 America. Each brother fights in
his own way, Aaron with bullets, Hayden with words. Then one night their world
is turned upside down when they are caught in a government sting and they must
both flee north into the badlands between San Francisco and Canada, where the
only safe haven is a place called The Plain of Bitter Honey, a refuge where
heads of the Resistance operate. But the brothers don’t know that government
agents are tracking them to the hiding place of the Resistance. Can they find
the inner strength to survive?
Excerpt:
The whine of
hydraulic motors filled the compartment. The back door crept opened and the
front began to rise.
Now came the dicey
part. As trash spilled out of the container, they all had to fight their way to
the top of the heap so they didn’t end up crushed under tons of garbage, and
they had to do it silently—one scream and the armed guards in the cab would be
on them. Thankfully, Gideon jumped to Aaron’s aid to help haul Hayden to the
top. As the container’s angle grew sharp, the trash picked up speed sliding out
the rear.
They rode the debris
out, like surfing a wave.
The grade was steep
and the brothers tumbled down along with the other freedom fighters. When they
came to rest, Aaron still clutched his brother to his chest. Wet, putrid waste
piled over them, enough to give them cover until the truck sped away.
Aaron waited until he
heard the clang of the truck doors lock shut and the whine of the engine fade.
He shook off the trash and pulled Hayden onto his shoulders.
Others scrambled to
find the food and equipment scattered among the debris.
Aaron stumbled across
a field of waste to lay his brother down in the shade of some cottonwood trees.
He dashed back and dug though the rubbish to find his backpack, food and
automatic weapon. He worked fast, knowing other trucks would soon show up to
dump more refuse, and as soon as the trucks stopped for the day, the Caliban
would arrive to scour the heap for anything edible. They had precious little
time to gather the equipment and flee the area.
Within twenty
minutes, they had assembled a pile of backpacks, blankets, tin cookware, canned
food and jugs of water. It only took a few minutes to divvy up the load and
pack. Everybody shouldered his or her load while Aaron hauled Hayden onto his
back again.
Aaron stared at his
pack propped against a tree, realizing that he couldn’t carry both Hayden and
the pack, and everyone else was already weighed down. He flashed on its
contents—family pictures, mother’s jewelry, childhood keepsakes, a few
cherished books Hayden had acquired on the black market, the false passport,
and the three hundred thousand dollars. He picked up his rifle, turned and
lunged away, leaving the pack.
Gideon took the
point, leading them single file toward the foothills below Mt. Tam. As they
left the area, they crossed a well-used path. Beside the trampled grass, Aaron
noticed a patched-together signpost that read: To Vancouver, 800 scenic miles.
Aaron wondered
whether this was the result of well-meant, wishful thinking or whether someone
was making a joke. In any case, the sign stood like a beacon, daring all to
proceed at their own risk.
They moved fast and
stayed under cover as much as possible, but hadn’t gone a mile before Aaron
began to lag behind. The average weight of the backpacks was seventy pounds;
Hayden weighed one-eighty-five. Aaron struggled with every step.
He realized he could
not keep up.
It became a
nightmare. His head bowed and body bent under Hayden’s mass, Aaron lurched over
rocks and small obstacles. The pain of his pinched toes had become sharp. He
was a fool not to have picked better-fitting boots, and he was paying the price
for his stupidity. As he stumbled across the open country, the pain crept from
feet to his shins, to his knees. Aaron was in serious trouble. He would never
make Canada, but he could go on for a while longer. He would stumble on as long
as he could, and just hope someone else would take Hayden when he was done in.
Occasionally he heard
a grunt or a voice, but everyone trudged along silently for the most part.
Having been raised in the city, amidst a constant barrage of noise from traffic
and crowds, this silence was unexpected, and frightening.
Once he thought he
heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and half-turned, his ears and eyes
straining, but he saw nothing. He only heard his own panting and the sound of
his heart pounding.
He hurried on,
mindful of the uneven path. If he broke a leg now, it meant certain death. He
fell further behind until Gideon stopped the others under the cover of trees.
Aaron struggled to
catch up. When he collapsed in the midst of the group, they were deep in
debate.
“We need to move fast
and hard,” Cooper said. “If Aaron can’t keep up hauling his brother, we leave
him.”
Weary, Aaron could
smell their fear. He checked to make sure Hayden was breathing okay, and
crawled to his feet.
“Nobody gets left behind,” Gideon growled.
“Now that we’re away from the dump, we need to move carefully and with
intelligence, not fast and stupid.”
Cooper shook his head
and Maggie spoke for the first time, “Coop’s right. I’m sorry about what
happened to Hayden, but right now he’s an anchor. I’m not risking my life to
save him.” She glared at Aaron.
If it were anyone but
Hayden, he’d be the one insisting they leave him behind.
“All right,” Aaron
said between gasps for breath. “I won’t beg you to stay with Hayden and me.
Anybody who thinks I’m putting them at risk can leave us behind, and best of
luck to you.” On our own, he thought, we don’t have a prayer.
“Listen up,” Gideon
said, peering at Aaron. “I’m sticking with Aaron. If you want to live, you’d
better damn well stick with us.”
Maggie took two steps
toward Gideon. He didn’t flinch as she said, “You have a map of how to get to
The Plain of Bitter Honey. Make me a copy.”
How she knew that
information, Aaron had no idea, but he was not surprised. She was the smart
one, and did her research.
“Too dangerous. If
the Caliban gets their hands on that map, Bitter Honey would be wiped out. I
won’t take that chance.”
The Armenian raised
his sidearm level with Gideon’s head and clicked off the safety.
“Give her the map,”
the Armenian hissed, “or I’ll take it off your dead body.”
“One shot and you’ll
draw everyone within five miles down on us.”
The Armenian took a
step toward Gideon, bringing the muzzle to within an inch of Gideon’s head.
Everybody froze.
Gideon reached for his inside coat pocket.
“Slowly,” the
Armenian snarled.
Gideon produced a map
and held it out. “If you even suspect you’re being followed, eat it. You cannot
let the Caliban get hold if it.”
Maggie snatched it
from his fingers. Aaron stepped closer,
until he could see the drawing himself. It was indeed a map of the Pacific
Northwest, done in pencil outlining the coastline with little triangles showing
the mountain ranges. A compass sat in the top right-hand corner. At the top was
a line and above it a word: Canada. But in the middle, within the triangles
along the coastline near the California/Oregon border, was a small black dot
with the words ‘Plain of BH’ under it.
She folded it back up
and stuffed it inside her shirt.
Aaron couldn’t
believe she was making such a stupid blunder. Leaving Gideon to go it on her
own was madness. It revealed how scared she and the others were. It’s because we let them think they were
going south, he thought. We should have let them know the minute we agreed to
evacuate everyone who could have been identified. We sprung this run for Canada
on them at the last moment, but they
needed time to get used to the idea.
It was too quick.
“Whoever is coming
with me,” she said, “saddle up. I want to be on the other side of Mount Tam by
sundown.”
With the Armenian
continuing to hold his gun on Gideon, everyone except Liam and the Mexican girl
shouldered a pack. Moments later, they trotted away at a fast clip, traveling
due north.
“Thanks for sticking
with us,” Aaron said, nodding in Liam’s direction as well, “but what the hell
can we do without a map?”
“I don’t need it,”
Gideon spat. “I’ve been there enough times. I made that stinking map to give to
you in case something happens to me. Let’s move out. We’ll skirt around the
west side of Tam. We hike single file. Walk in my footprints. No talking; we
communicate with hand signals. We take it slow and we zigzag so it’s more
difficult for them to trail us.”
“Are the Caliban as
fearsome as people claim?” Liam asked. “I mean, I always thought that the
rumors were government propaganda to keep us afraid.”
“I don’t know about
you,” Gideon answered, “but I don’t plan to find out.”
Everyone nodded.
Aaron asked Gideon why he chose to stay with him and Hayden.
“You risked your life
to save your brother, and you wouldn’t leave him.”
“Yeah?”
“So you showed me you
can be counted on. Out here that’s everything.”
Aaron didn’t ask why
Liam and Juanita stayed. Sticking with Gideon was the smart move.
“What about the
others?” Aaron said, looking up the trail they had taken.
“Forget them. They’re already dead.”
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