I moved my features into mocking exasperation and urged, “Well, please enlighten me. Do you know anything about Starosa’s onset?”
Zander peered at the different shades of magnificent colors in the evening sky. The sun was barely hidden beneath the great mountains in the murky distance. It was a soft outline of light fading into growing darkness.
Zander conceitedly proclaimed, “Yeah, I know some things.”
He did not proceed and gave the impression he was purposefully trying my patience. Beseeching him to continue, I tossed my hands with irritation.
“And!? Well!?”
Zander groaned and slyly conceded, “All I know are bits and pieces from stories here and there. There’s a lack of information on exactly how people came to be in this mysterious place. It is understood...Chief Meadows’s father and ten other people suddenly found themselves on this land fighting for survival and searching for a safe place to reside. Their grueling journey remarkably brought them to this area.”
He gestured at the towering fence and explained, “They built shelters and protection from the beasts and flesheaters. Eventually, more survivors joined them and they established Starosa. The original Chief Meadows was elected the leader and his first order of business was to have the founding survivors be called, “firstlings.” The discovered land was developed into a place to live and start anew. More people found their way here. Chief Meadows’s father and his appointed elite tens picked mates and created children and families with the newcomers. Others continued to arrive, but they were only allowed entrance into the safety of the community if they agreed to work for the firstlings. Or in other words to become their drudges. I imagine these first drudges were weary of running and starving in a desolate wilderness. They would agree to be drudges for safety, protection, and nourishment. I suppose the people built the surrounding high fence. There is a rumor, it was already here and running though. The survivors only had to find the entrance.”
Zander’s face turned contemplative and sad. His change in countenance piqued my interest.
He explained, “According to the tale, when Starosa was established and thriving more people arrived and begged for entry. But they were denied entrance. Apparently, there were enough drudges and enough firstlings and no one else was granted admission. Of course, this is story and speculation. It doesn't seem like anyone knows exactly how people arrived here and there is no solid history of this place. We’ve heard about the alleged Previous Sphere because of scattered memories of old ones, but these pronounced flashbacks could be fabricated for all we know. I am skeptical of all these stories as there is no solid proof of their validity.”
After processing everything Zander told me, I questioned, “Why wouldn’t they let anybody else inside? Already having enough people doesn’t seem to be a proper reason…”
This piece of information tugged at strings of empathy attached to my heart.
He answered, “Chief Meadows’s father taught overpopulation could result in destruction. Only a controlled number of people should be allowed to survive to ensure peace. A regulated community would safeguard the possibility of resources becoming scarce. A controlled population would ensure a sufficient amount for everyone’s needs. He also believed too many minds, especially educated ones, would only create chaos.”
“Do you think it is true, Zander? More educated citizens would create chaos? If drudges were educated would there be an increase in conflict?”
Zander did not reply for an eternity while I waited in anticipation. True to his character he was slow to answer, contemplating his responses before speaking. It put me on edge and the silence dragged on relentlessly, but I was growing used to his mannerisms.
Finally, he responded, “I am not sure. But what I am sure of, is drudges are treated crushingly unfair.”
I experienced a tinge of bitterness and agreed with his assertion. Injustice was a new awareness, but was surging through my veins more and more every day.
Zander murmured, “If you were the first to arrive, you were a firstling. If not, you were a drudge.”
His statement caused irrepressible soreness and I scarcely muttered, “And if you were neither firstling or drudge you were refused a proper chance to live.”
I gestured dissatisfaction for the allegation and ranted, “If the story is true, it is awful. Those unfortunate people. Do you suppose they all died?”
Zander released a lingering breath and stated, “It would seem so, but maybe they are still alive in the great unknown, surrounding our community.”
He motioned to the obscure vastness enveloping us and asserted, “I doubt it though. I am sure the wild beasts and flesheaters outnumbered the people denied compassion and sent away.”
“Yeah, and we have never seen human life outside of the fence.”
The matter was depressing. In our time together, Zander managed to remove the sheltered blanket covering my eyes. The cruel injustices of our existence were coming to light with tremendous force.
I whispered, “Everything seems so unfair and inexcusable.”
Zander looked at me with raised eyebrows and pompously commented, “Analysse, you sound a little different from last time. You seemed oblivious to anything wrong in Starosa during our previous Remembrance Duty.”
He was quiet for a moment and declared, “It was extremely irritating. I am glad you are not walking so dumb and blind now.”
His words stung and provoked me to respond contemptuously.
“I am still thankful for the things I have been given within the community, Zander.”
He smiled at my defiant response.
“Yes, but now you are starting to see what...”
Zander’s last sentence was sharply cut off by a crushing sound coming from the trees.
An incessant crunching of gravel and dreadfully alarming grunting noises assailed our ears. Two pairs of vivid yellow eyes could be seen in the murky night, staring at us threateningly. Horror soared through my senses. Instinctively we both reached for our knives.
Chapter 9
Immediately my body went into vigilant defense mode. We swiftly moved to a large boulder so we would have protection against our backs. We quickly scanned the area for possible angles of attack. The boulder was sturdy and unmoving, unlike my unsteady frame.
I glanced behind and discovered the beasts chillingly creeping in our direction. Zander and I remained in our position and deliberated a plan of survival. I was frightened and panicked, but my desire to live overpowered fear.
Zander whispered, “Obviously there is no use in running.”
He winked at me and shrugged with a joking disposition. It was the truth. Flesheaters were much faster than us, but I was not in the mood for humor.
I responded breathlessly, “We have protection against our backs. We can attempt to protect the sides and front from where we stand.”
I peeked at the eerie animals, full of venom and animosity. Two deadly creatures in the moonlight. They were huge, standing at least seven feet as they crept on their hind legs. Their dangerous claws sporadically scraped against the ground as they deliberately approached. Flesheaters ran with all four limbs, but when they walked, they preferred to unnervingly make use of their hind legs. They resembled a wolf, but were grander and more vicious.
They were humongous beasts exhibiting humanistic traits, in an unnatural and unnerving way. The land surrounding our sheltered community was comprised of these big, fierce, and mean animals. According to the spotted memories of the old ones, flesheaters did not exist in the Previous Sphere. On occasion we dealt with other wild animals such as dogs, bears, and poisonous snakes...but these creatures were nothing compared to flesheaters. Flesheaters sent fear through your spine in uncontainable motions. They devoured anything and everything in sight, finding human flesh a rare delicacy.
The two flesheaters moved closer, sneering in our direction. Their fangs were sharp and dripping with anticipation for the meal they were approaching. One o
f the flesheaters growled. They abruptly dropped to all fours and barreled forward at an alarming rate. My mind was racing and my heart was bursting from my chest. I held the knife firmly in my hand, waiting to fight with all my strength and might.
Zander urged, “Don’t move, we have to wait for them. If we attack too soon, we are finished.”
He seemed incredibly steady and strong. He was listening intently for the approaching attack with his knife out in front of him, ready to strike. I fervently wished I had his confidence and calm demeanor. He gave the sure impression we were going to survive. I was positive we would be the devoured meal of these flesheaters any second.
I constrained myself to concentrate on the rapidly advancing footsteps. In a swift movement, the flesheaters jumped over our boulder and landed a few feet in front of us. They rapidly turned and faced their massive bodies in our direction. Their bloodcurdling teeth snarled and flashed. There was a violent desire for food reflected in their eyes. They launched a deadly prowl on hind legs, looking like enormous monsters. My anxiety was on the verge of explosion. My pulse was pumping with alarming velocity. Was it enticing the animals even more? I grew impatient with nerves and the adrenaline coursing through my veins caused me to step forward. Zander immediately held me back with the gentle halt of his hand.
In a calm and hushed tone, he demanded, “Not yet, Ana, not yet.”
Despite the intense terror of the moment, it did not escape my attention he called me “Ana.” The nickname I never told him I went by, and of which only Old Jake and Brenna endearingly called me. He called me this during our first Remembrance Duty together as well. The observation was fleeting because I was faint with panic. If I did not attack soon, the terror would cripple my body from future movement. The flesheaters were so close I could smell their foul and matted fur. It was tangled with mud and dried rotting meat, clearly the remnants of a previously devoured meal. The rhythm of their cavernous breathing thundered in my ears.
They were about a foot away when Zander yelled, “Now!!”
I dashed forward and unleashed all the knife training and combat skills I could actualize. I slammed my weapon into the abdomen of a flesheater, but with rising fear could not dislodge it. The attack surprised the beast and its furious yellow eyes glared into me. After registering the intrusion its rage grew more violent.
I abandoned the unyielding knife and scurried from the animal’s unleashed vengeance. I escaped to find transient protection behind another massive boulder. My ears bled at the sound of Zander struggling with his giant opponent. I did not risk a deadly glimpse and reveal my position. Was he winning the dangerous battle?
With the boulder as a momentary defense, my body gave into frightened spasms. My breath was as impossible to catch as a whirlwind in the sky. My ears perked to the noises of the flesheater I injured. I anticipated its counteraction, but was unable to identify approaching tracks.
Zander’s assailant released an ear-splitting cry followed by whimpering and howling. A loud thump hit the ground with a successful kill. Where was the beast who originally advanced me? Did I actually inflict a lethal wound? My senses were on high alert, but I could not determine the animal’s position.
I braved being discovered and peered from my rock of protection to locate Zander. I scanned the perilous proximity around me and jumped from shock. The flesheater was in the shadows. It was hauntingly waiting to pounce and devour. Its eerie eyes glared in the darkness.
I froze in fright. It lunged forward with claws and teeth poised for my death. I braced myself for the ferocious assault. The flesheater smacked into my body and knocked me to the earth. I landed on the cold hard ground with a bone crunching thump. If I endured this thrashing, the resulting injuries would be gruesome. A wail escaped the beast before flattening me to the dirt. Was it a screech of pain?
It scratched and lashed at the earth with an aim to slaughter. I struggled beneath its massive weight. My narrow and pinned frame made it impossible for the beast to sink teeth and claws into my skin. It simply needed to rise in order to tear into my flesh. My life was at the brink of destruction. I waited for my inevitable death.
With eyes squeezed shut, nothing but darkness and terror availed my senses. After a moment, I heard footsteps and Zander calling for me.
“Analysse, are you okay?”
It painfully registered, the flesheater stopped moving and was crushing me with listless weight. I tried to push its vast frame from my body, but could not find the strength necessary to achieve my objective.
Zander heaved the flesheater off me. When I was freed, I staggered to my feet and discovered blood dripping from my clothes. It was heavy and wet in the chilly air. I beheld Zander’s knife protruding from between the flesheater’s eyes. He must have thrown it from a distance and it was clear he was an excellent shot. There was no way we experienced the same basic training. Zander’s skills far exceeded my own. With a sickening sound, Zander retrieved his knife from the creature’s forehead and wiped the bloody remnants on his pants. Next, he recovered my knife still lodged in the flesheater’s stomach. He cleaned the blade and motioned for me to grab it. I stared blankly into the distance, still in shock and disbelief.
He asked, “Are you okay? Analysse?”
My mouth was nailed shut; I could not speak. My heart had been racing at an alarming rate, but was moderating. The steady beating gradually resonated life into my petrified state. It took a few moments for me to respond.
“Yeah, I think so.”
The flesheater’s blood trickled down my forehead. My face and coat were covered in the gruesome liquid. I remained silent, motionless, and unfocused. I attempted to control my emotions and distress. Zander regarded me cautiously and removed his coat.
He gently lifted the sleeve of his coat to clear the blood from my features. He softly wiped my cheek, chin, and forehead. He finished his quiet task by gingerly cleaning near my brow. He stood studying my appearance, the fabric delicately pressed against my face. For unknown reasons, my heart raced once more. I sincerely hoped he remained unaware of the unexpected effect he was having on me. I avidly suppressed the perilous reaction and forced myself to remain frozen in place. Concentrated effort was put into holding his gaze, not wanting to be the first to look away.
Finally, he became conscious of our proximity. He took a few steps back in what appeared to be reluctant movements. Zander’s characteristically rich, flowing voice was uneven and tense as he spoke.
“Please move. Talk? Do something! You are worrying me. Analysse?”
Incoherent logic filled my mind and without thorough speculation or spoken word beforehand, I swiftly closed the distance between us. I threw my arms around his frame and pressed against his strong, firm chest. He was stiff, unbending, and unsure...but eventually his body relaxed and he put his arms around me too.
It was abnormal to be clinging so fiercely to another drudge, to be hugging another person other than Old Jake. When Old Jake held me to him, it was to comfort the child I was, and always would be in his eyes. This was entirely different. I never embraced a male drudge near my age.
Zander kept me to him, holding me gently. Perhaps it was human nature to need someone after such an awful experience. I almost lost my life and irrationally could not inhibit the need to be consoled in Zander’s arms. It was comfortable being there. My body was slightly shaking as the adrenaline decreased and I acknowledged extreme gratitude for my life. I was indebted to the drudge holding me steadily against him, for saving my existence.
Unexpected tears sprang from my eyes as I whispered, “Thank you, Zander.”
We parted and made our way closer to the gate of Starosa. As a youngling, when I was first attacked by a flesheater, I was so thankful for the community and the security it provided. I could not wait to get back inside the safety of the electric fence.
I no longer had those sentiments. I longed for the defense of electric protection, but was also livid at what I had to endure. Appreciation for
Starosa was not searing through my heart after this encounter. The firstlings would never know what it was like to fear for their lives. They never experienced hunger and thirst or were forced outside the safety of their massive homes and huge comfortable beds. Their bellies were full of delicious foods I would never taste. Their beds were soft and warm with blankets and soft pillows I would never enjoy. There was no denying, after this flesheater attack I was fuming.
“I can’t stand the firstlings,” I harshly muttered in the darkness.
It was wintry, but not freezing. Zander did not chance making a fire. He sat next to me against a rock. His body warmth and my allotted brown coat, although slightly damp with blood, would be enough to survive tonight’s chill.
He demanded, “What did you say?”
“I know you heard me, Zander.”
Zander teased, “Oh, I heard you. It was just surprising coming from little miss, sheltered cleaning drudge Analysse.”
I punched him in the arm.
He yelped, “Ouch!”
Zander pretended it smarted more than it did and rubbed his arm gingerly.
I rolled my eyes and asserted, “You just killed two flesheaters, so I doubt that hurt.”
He insisted, “Yeah, well it did. And I didn’t take on two flesheaters on my own, you wounded one of them.”
Our near-death experience made me quiver and I promptly returned the conversation to the firstlings.
“It’s not fair...they have such perfect lives and ours are so pitiful.”
Zander studied me, clearly astonished at my rising level of bitterness and annoyance. His voice was softer than usual as he spoke.
“I wouldn’t say our lives are pitiful, we make the most of what we have. Plus, I am sure it’s not so bad for you. Most firstlings tend to treat young, beautiful, and female drudges...way better than they do the rest of us.”
I fidgeted when he referred to me as beautiful and it made me uncomfortable. I disagreed with every utterance of his statement. My recent encounter with Jude Meadows flashed into my memory. This occurrence did not stand out as a strong example of better treatment.
The Forbidden Plan Page 6
