Page 1 of The Sixth Spring

Chapter 1

Will had waited weeks for one orange to be ready. It was the biggest, brightest one on the branch overhanging the path he took to work. The tree it hung on was one of the older ones in the orchard, with strong branches reaching up and out into the walkway.

The resulting fruit was voluminously round and so bright in color it clashed with the sky that it hung against, too high for nearly everyone but Will to reach it.

Today it would be his. He’d seen it bowing the branch when he was walking home yesterday, offering itself up finally for the taking.

Farmer Raymond wouldn’t mind. He never minded locals taking the occasional fruit. The trees produced more than enough for him to sell. In the busy season, he could barely keep up with the harvest.

As Will came up to the overhanging branch, he reached overhead and, with a small jump, let the palm of his hand find the fruit. It came free easily, ready to be plucked.

He hummed to himself as he rolled it in his palm, a tune he always went back to, something that had no name or origin.

The skin of the orange was smooth and warm from the early morning sun, and the weight of it promised sweet juice. His fingers began to work automatically, digging into the soft rind and pulling it away.

The bright, acidic scent hit his nose, and his stomach rumbled. He’d skipped breakfast this morning in anticipation. Had left his last precious scoop of oatmeal in the container for another day.

As eager as he was, Will kept his eyes on the ragged sidewalk as he peeled. The asphalt and concrete here had been worn away by years of blistering Florida heat and seasonal rain. The grove hadn’t helped, the roots pushing the blocks of pavement up from their moorings. Rain had crumbled them into dirt in some places, and Will had almost twisted his ankle just last week on a new divot in the walk.

He discarded the bright orange skin back to the dirt, breathing in the tang of the citrus.

When the fruit was bared, Will dug his nails into the center of the orange and started breaking it into segments. Juice dripped down his fingers, and he salivated in anticipation.

Today was going to be scorching hot, and the time spent pushing carts would suck. He deserved this, a small sweetness before the trials of the day.

For a handful of risky steps, Will tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and slipped the first wedge into his mouth. He bit down.

But instead of sugary citrus, something else burst across his tongue. It was acrid, like bile, coating his mouth in a sickening wash of bitterness.

He reacted before he could even think, turning and spitting the slice out. It didn’t help. Whatever was inside the orange stuck around. It was metallic, like a dirty penny on his tongue. He spat and spat as his nausea rose, but couldn’t get it out.

Will turned the orange over in his hand accusingly, but could find nothing wrong with it. No bugs, no discoloration, no rot.

Not that this tasted like fruit rot. Even that had an organic quality to it, a naturalness. This was something else. It made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

Carefully, Will peeled off another wedge and brought it to his nose. He sniffed it, but it smelled like an orange should.

Tentatively, he slid the slice into his mouth and took a small bite.

The taste of blood and rust and fetid bile filled his mouth. He spit it out, stomach trying to heave as if he’d eaten something poisonous. It tasted awful, and he could feel the fear gurgling that any part of it had slid down his throat and made its home inside him.

It was a bone-deep, animalistic disgust. A kind of fear he’d never experienced before.

He turned and chucked the orange into the distant road as far as he could throw.

And as he did, his eyes caught sight of smoke.

The morning had been bright blue and cloudless, but in the near distance, a pitch-black coil of smoke was reaching upward. It was coming from uphill, but close, just on the other side of the groves.

The construction?

Will frowned. He’d heard the rumors, the complaints, and had read a few of the articles in the paper about it, but he hadn’t actually believed it was happening. Who would buy land in Five Springs to build a mall? This was the middle of nowhere. The people here were outnumbered by cows and orange trees.

Will stared at the smoke.

They couldn’t really build on the swamp, could they? The county had two stop lights, one grocery store, and pockets of mosquitos as thick as soup. It was–

Will forced his eyes back to the path when he almost tripped. The taste lingered in his mouth, and he considered shoving his fingers down his throat to have bile replace it.