by Gillian Zane
“By helping you kill off a large portion of the human race, we’ll survive the culling and you’ll let us rule them?” I hoped my voice conveyed my disgust. “Oh, how fun, where can I sign up?” Maybe she picked up on the sarcasm, her face didn't show a reaction.
“Yes, oh how wonderful.” She smiled expecting my excitement, but instead got my scorn.
“Bullshit,” I spat the distaste out of my mouth. “You’re a goddess, the big baddie Mother Nature, right? Isn’t that who you are? Well, Mother Nature, take care of it yourself. Whip up a hurricane, explode Yellowstone, maybe bring down an asteroid or something?”
“Rules. There are so many rules, and nothing is guaranteed. I’ve already done a few of those.” She winked like this was some kind of joke. “I don’t know why you resist me. Your lives will be so much easier if you just assist.” She sighed and sipped her tea, making a face that didn’t look pleased. “And yes, I am Mother Nature, or Gaia, Terra, Di Mu, Prithvi, I have many names. The first name I remember is Qi, I’m rather fond of that one.”
“But if you’re a goddess, why would you have to obey the rules? Don’t you make the rules?” Ezekiel asked.
“I am but a lowly goddess of this planet alone. This is my only home, but there are many planets, many manifestations and hierarchies of gods and goddesses, and we all have to answer to someone. It is why I am so fond of this planet. I only have the one; if it is destroyed or irrevocably changed, what do I have? Mars? No, I don’t even have that for another goddess resides there. I can’t imagine what DiMa goes through ruling that planet. Must have a wonderful rock collection, though, it was once lush and rich with life like this one, long before humans even existed. And her life was like yours, but look what is left.” She sighed again and rubbed at an invisible spot on her dress.
“And if we refuse to help you, to not have any part in this mass murder, what then?” I asked not wanting to play these games anymore. I should be fascinated; I was always preoccupied by ancient pagan religions. I knew all of the Greek pantheon by heart, had even studied Norse and Celtic religions, even though I was a baptized Catholic. It was just fascinating to me that humans created such a rich fiction that they worshipped and killed for. But here was someone that was standing before me and revealing that this wasn’t a fiction. This was truth. There were gods and goddesses. At least, gods of things. Did this mean they were actually gods though, in the sense of Jesus or God, or more like Saints? Like Saint Anthony, the saint of lost things, or St. Francis, who is kind of like the saint of the Earth. Did they exist as well?
The goddess waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t make rash decisions, dear.”
“This isn’t a rash decision, this is a moral stance. What happens if we say no?” I persisted.
“You’ll have no protection from me. I can’t kill you directly, but there are plenty that have taken my side before you and there will be plenty after you that say yes, that know what I say is the truth. They know they would rather lead a smaller human population than die unhappy in an overcrowded world. They will hate you. They will hunt you. They will drink your blood.” She smiled, and I thought I might have seen fangs. My stomach rolled with nausea. This was not right. Not right at all.
“I think I’ll take my chances.” I looked around for some kind of escape route. I had no idea where I was, nothing looked familiar. I could be in the middle of nowhere. She had mentioned another plane of existence, was that like a worm hole, or we on another planet? How would I ever escape? I turned to the man; a man I only knew by the name the woman had called him. But I knew he had stopped to help a girl in the middle of the swamps when he could have just walked off.
“Are you coming?”
9
“Are you coming?” There was so much trust in the woman’s eyes. She really believed I would follow her. That I would defy a goddess and walk away. Basically, put my life on the line to become opposing forces with Mother Nature.
To not be a party to mass murder.
I stood.
“Yes, this isn’t something I want to be party to,” I said to clarify my stance.
“I knew I should have split you two up, or let you mate first,” Mother Nature sighed. “Have a nice life, however short it may be.” She waved her hand in dismissal and the world tilted.
Something extraordinarily uncomfortable poked me in the back. It was like I had fallen asleep on Legos. I had done that before as a kid, and I still had a scar to show for it. I had been one of those kids who would pass out anywhere. There were too many pictures in my parent’s albums to deny my unique ability. I groaned and reached out my hand and came into contact with something that wasn’t Legos. Gritty and sandy. I cracked an eye open and quickly closed it as the sun beat razors into my non-acclimated eyeballs.
“Where are we?” a cracked and husky female voice asked.
Throwing an arm over my eyes, I turned my head to the side and groaned as more rocks plastered against my cheek, and yep, now there was dirt in my mouth. I felt like I had woken up after a heavy night of drinking. I tried to spit the dirt out of my mouth but think I failed miserably, I probably just succeeded in drooling.
I took the plunge and sat up; pain shot through my entire body, especially in my back and shoulders. Looking around, I didn’t recognize where we were. It was a parking lot, there were a few strip mall shops to my left. None of the stores were familiar to me.
“I know where we are.” I turned my head with a wince and saw the girl, Miley. She was getting to her feet, a look of pain on her face. Rock and grit lined her bare legs. She was still wearing the sundress. It fluttered in the wind and her tanned thighs were exposed. Something niggled and poked me. The sundress. She shouldn't be wearing that. She was wearing shorts. Wet shoes. A little purple gun. The—
I shook my head. That wasn't real. I had fallen and hit my head and had a vivid dream. That couldn’t have been real. The Mother. She had been wearing that dress when we met the woman. No, I hit my head. It hurt like a bitch. I brought my hand up to my head and glanced down at the pants I wore. Linen. I didn't own a pair of linen pants.
“Stupid dress.” Miley yanked the dress down. It was white, but was now spotted with mud stains. She hadn't been wearing that before. Not when we first met. Maybe something happened. Maybe we met, went somewhere, and she changed. I wondered where her other clothes had gone, the gun, her wet shoes. I used the ground to get to my feet and winced as the rocks embedded themselves into my palm. Something else poked at my thoughts, forcing me to try to put the puzzle pieces together.
I walked to Miley and grabbed her hand, flipping her palm over to inspect it. Her skin was soft and her hands small like the rest of her. Her skin was unblemished, no cut, or even the hint of an injury. I trailed my finger over where the deep scratch had been. How much time had passed?
“I hadn’t even noticed.” She pulled her hand back and ran her thumb over her palm.
“I’m not going insane, we were in the swamp, right? Then we were on a porch in what looked like Biloxi, or something?” I asked her. Her eyes were large and scared when she nodded.
“It did seem like Biloxi, or near there. Good observation.” She looked behind her and frowned as an SUV pulled off the highway and began heading in our direction. As it neared us the bubble lights on the top came into view and then the distinctive Louisiana State Police emblem on the side made it evident who was visiting us.
“My motorcycle is parked at trailhead #3 lot. How far away are we?”
“We’re closer to where I parked, at the first parking lot, about two miles away.” We watched as the police officer coasted closer to us. What did we look like? I glanced at Miley; she looked a little ruffled but nothing glaringly wrong with her.
The policewoman rolled her window down when she neared, her face covered with a mask and face shield that was more about peace of mind than actually doing anything to protect from exposure. The masks could block the pollen, but they couldn’t block the antibody reaction from
others when it got caught by the air. It was better safe than sorry, like brandishing an umbrella in a downpour—you’re still going to get wet, but maybe not as much. Which was why masks orders had been in effect since the first pandemic.
“My name is Officer Whitley Bailey, badge number six eight three two zero. I’m approaching you because of observed suspicious behavior. Please state what it is you are engaged in.”
The new lines they had been forced to recite when approaching someone showing suspicious behavior was ridiculous. She sounded like a robot, and her facial expression showed her disgust. The rules were new. They were not well received.
“We’re standing here,” Miley spoke with little to no inflection in her voice. “No suspicious activity here.”
“There is a stay-at-home order in effect, just standing here is suspicious activity,” the officer countered. “Are you two part of a family unit, outside contact with members that do not reside within your own household are also strictly prohibited.
“Last I checked, the stay-at-home order was merely to limit activity, but as long as you were socially distancing at public places all was good. We can still leave our homes for needed activities, right?” She smiled and spread her arms in an open gesture to display our social distancing.
“What are you two doing out here?” The officer didn’t even try to hide her distaste.
“Is there something wrong, officer? Can we not stand here?” Miley asked, her tone confrontational. When the police were involved, I was always as conciliatory as possible. Her outright defiance had my anxiety spiking, but it was kind of refreshing, too. We were not doing anything wrong. There was no reason for the policewoman to come and question us.
I always tried to be as pleasing as possible when getting pulled over by the authority, that behavior probably pointed back to my mother who was afraid of the police from her time in Paris as a refugee. My mother's experiences there had cemented a healthy distrust of the police and military which she had passed to me. Play nice and they’ll leave you alone. America is better, but you can never be too careful.
“I see two people rolling around on the ground in a closed shopping mall during a stay at home order. Yes, there is something wrong. You should be home.”
“Are the state troopers enforcing the stay at home order?” Miley asked.
“It’s a suggestion, but we could find other things to enforce, like loitering.”
“Loitering?” I exclaimed, the ridiculous word and crime making my self-preservation disappear.
“Rolling around on the ground?” Miley added.
“Loitering, you mean the act of being in a place with no apparent reason. You can’t enforce loitering laws, they’re unconstitutional. I don’t think there are even any laws in existence anymore,” I added.
“Oh great, you’re one of them.” The cop’s hand dropped down below the window and my heart sped up. Was she getting out or getting something to enforce her fake laws? “I can bring you in, and we can sort that out along the way.” The officer’s eyes were hard as they looked me over. She wasn’t amused with this situation. None of us were.
“What does she mean, one of them?” Miley’s question was voiced in my direction. “You mean someone who is for constitutional rights?”
“It’s a national emergency, has been for a long time, your constitutional rights went into the cooler while we’re dealing with this. I want to see your hands raised. We’ll talk about your constitutional rights down at the precinct. I’m taking you in for trespassing and resisting arrest.” She smiled a very disagreeable smile and the smell of Earth and animal, a deep musk, washed over me and I wrinkled my nose in response. It wasn’t pleasant. She opened the door, and I had the sudden urge to run, which would probably end up with me being shot in the back. The intense amount of police scrutiny and vengeance attacks during the crisis had pushed the vast majority of the “good cops” to look for other jobs, and the remainder were in their position to take advantage of the chaos. Police brutality reports had skyrocketed.
“No, you won’t, because if you do, you’ll be hearing immediately from my lawyers. We aren’t doing anything wrong. You can go about your business and leave us alone, we aren’t bothering anyone,” Miley said, her voice deeper than usual, her words resonating as the wind picked up, washing away the smell of mud.
“You’re right. You aren’t doing anything wrong. Have a nice day.” The officer closed her door, rolled up her window, and put her SUV in reverse.
“What was that?” I turned to Miley who stared after the cop, her mouth hanging open slightly in as much shock as me.
“I guess dropping the lawyer bomb did it,” she shrugged. “C’mon, we have a long walk ahead of us.”
“That wasn’t just dropping the lawyer bomb,” I argued.
“I don’t know what that was, but it worked, so I’m not about to freak out about it.”
“She did exactly what you told her to do.”
“She did, and I knew she would if I said it in a certain way.”
“What do you mean, you knew it?”
“I felt it, like if I did it in a certain way, it would have the results I wanted. Like when you do an exercise and you know if you move a certain way, you’ll have the results you want? Or you might injure yourself? It was a feeling like that.” I nodded my head like an idiot. I think I knew what she was talking about.
“So, you used the force? These are not the droids you are looking for?” I used my best Obi-Wan Kenobi voice. She laughed, holding her hand over her mouth to stifle it slightly.
“I knew you would be a Star Wars nerd.” Rolling her eyes, she tugged on my arm, pulling me in the direction of hopefully her vehicle.
“What gave away my nerd card?”
“The glasses, and all the nerdy gadgets in your pack—” Her voice trailed off when she realized we didn’t have any of our own belongings. My pack was gone. I patted my pockets, there was nothing. My wallet, keys — shit, my keys.
“Do you have your key?”
I didn’t have the keys to my motorcycle. I only had that one set; I would have to call out a lock company or something to get another set. I wouldn’t even know where to start with doing that, plus proving it was mine. My title was at my house, an hour away near Baton Rouge. I didn’t even have my phone with pictures that would prove the motorcycle belongs to me.
“Look.” Miley pointed to what looked like trash, not too far from where we had woken up. I walked over and pulled up a woman’s shirt covered in blood. It was the one she had wrapped around her hand. Miley reached down and picked up a pair of shorts with the built-in holster with her gun attached to it. She dug inside and pulled out her key fob. My clothes were under hers, and in the pocket was my keys, phone, and wallet. Small miracles.
I turned my back as Miley began lifting her skirt up to slip her shorts on.
“Thanks,” she said when I turned back and handed her the gun. “That woman obviously doesn't believe in underwear. She lifted her dress back up and shoved it into the holster, letting the dress fall to cover it up. I patted my thigh and realized she spoke the truth. No undies and in white linen pants. Great.
“Hard to get to, but at least I’m not freeballing it.” She patted the gun, which made her look like she had a little belly. Miley kicked off her sandals and slipped her feet into her tennis shoes. She looked up and blushed when she realized she was looking at my crotch and the pants were white. Fabulous.
“We still have to get to my SUV before dark. If not, then they really will have a reason to pick us up. This time for curfew.” She didn’t look back as she began walking toward the highway. “You coming?” She looked over her shoulder and gave me an inpatient look. I guess I was. She had said that to me twice and both times I was more than happy to follow her.
10
Two grueling hours later, I trudged to my SUV with the guy named Ezekiel trailing behind me. To his credit, he hadn’t once complained when my estimated two or so miles turned
into much longer. I had already run close to ten miles today, and now I had probably done another seven. Again, to the man’s credit, with the sexy nerd look kicking, he kept up with me. Sexy nerd was in good shape.
“Fucking finally.” I tried to keep the cursing to a minimum when I met someone new, appearances and first impressions and all. I liked to ease them into the real me. Not that I cursed a lot, maybe a third or a fourth of the words I used usually involved a curse word. Nothing major. The doors disengaged, and the heat poured out of the cramped but luxurious space as I opened my door and slid inside.
“I’ll drop you off at your motorcycle.” I started the car and waited for him to get into the passenger side.
“And then what?” His linen pants made a scrunching sound across the leather, and I tried again to not look at his dick, but it was useless and I failed miserably. Sweat and linen pants combined for a veritable peep show. Dammit. He saw where I was looking, but didn’t even acknowledge it, not a smirk, or a twitch. Dammit. I was pathetic.
“And then I guess we hide,” I shrugged, coming up with something random and quick. Hide? How do you hide from Mother Nature? I had a vision of being washed away in a freak flood, or a swarm of bees taking me out as I went for a morning run.
“How does one hide from this situation?”
