The flesheater’s rapid pant was subsiding and the steadying beat of its heart ricocheted. The beast stared directly into my eyes and I dared to hold its gaze. Its spooky slits bore glaringly into the surrounding darkness. I was weak, faint, and forced myself to inhale. As my breathing regulated, a sharp ache in my backside became more severe. I peeled my focus from the creature’s penetrating scrutiny to examine the source of my discomfort. My fingers met moisture seeping through my shirt. When I glanced at my fingers, I registered the crimson red color and detected the rusty smell of blood. As my captor raced from the deadly flesheaters, it held me close to its frame. The creature’s claws were not retracted because of the stress of fleeing and while it gripped me tightly, claws pierced my body.
As panic etched into my features, the flesheater recognized something was wrong. Undoubtedly, it saw and smelled the blood with senses stronger than mine. With rapid movements, it was at my side gingerly examining the wounds. Its proximity caused apprehension to creep beneath my skin. After discovering the damage, a low grumble left its chest. It lifted its beast-like hands in the air with outrage and frustration. It inspected the bladed, terrifying fingers and fiercely glared at them.
A look of disgust and loathing flickered across its features. It slashed at the surrounding earth in an obvious fit of passion and resentment. Dirt crumbled from the walls and fell to the ground. The flesheater ran its hated claws through the long, staggered hairs on top of its head. The beast’s rush of rage would have been more horrifying, but I could perceive the outburst of fury was not directed toward me.
The events of the day distressingly filled the dingy room. My body became profoundly weighted with emotions. I was no longer strong enough to handle the image of Old Jake dying in my arms. The recollection of Zander crawling into the trees after being shot, rested on my shoulders like heavy bricks. There was an emotional toll from barely escaping ravenous flesheaters. Surviving Rykeir, the worst monster of them all, added to the heaviness. These burdens were taxing and I suddenly found it wearisome to stand.
I was suffering throbbing afflictions. My heart ached so severely; I was sure it was broken into pieces. Low hanging branches had reached out and grabbed my face and arms with fingerlike twigs. The resulting slashes and slices burned my skin and stung with harsh reminders of the awful day. The injury in my side was seeping blood because of the abnormal flesheater. The one who had me trapped in an unknown and underground encasement.
My heart, body, and mind could not handle the tragic events any longer. Claustrophobia and nausea overpowered my senses. After glancing at my wounds once more the walls began to spin. The den gradually dimmed and darkness enclosed my dizzying vision. There was nothing but engulfing black, as I fell to the ground.
I was back in the old shed with Jude. He drew what he tells me is the letter A. It was two long lines attached by a short one. He had me say the sound “A” makes. I practiced writing the letter for the first time. He beamed with a happy smile. It was thrilling to write on the precious paper and to write something of importance. It was exhilarating to be educated. I strived to hold onto the moment. I relished the memory of excitement and joy. I held on earnestly to the dream as something began to pull me away. I fought back, not wanting the image to leave and abandon me in my despair.
Distressed growling stirred me from my unconscious state. My eyelids drowsily opened and revealed a gloomy scenery and dirt covered walls. I struggled to remember my whereabouts. Strong arms were wrapped around me and a finger softly caressed the side of my face. The touch was comforting, but peculiar. I was instantly alarmed. The finger was not normal and smooth like it should be. It was rough with coarse fur. I swiftly recalled where I was and remembered my terrifying company. I recoiled with frantic intensity.
The beast instinctively let go of the gentle grip it held on me. Had it caught me before I fainted and fell to the floor? I quickly jerked away from the animal and from the situation. I stumbled to my feet with forced, fast movements. I gazed at the flesheater abandoned on the dusty ground. My reaction to it holding me, clearly caused offense. It grumbled and twisted away.
Its wounded response inflicted a stab of empathy. I was so confused, scared, and unsure of what was happening. Why had it not ripped my flesh into shreds and devoured the meal I would provide? Why was it prolonging my death? For some unknown reason, this peculiar beast was keeping me alive…and I recklessly upset it. Had I imagined the gentle way it caressed my cheek?
Before it could decide to attack and kill me, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
It was quiet for a few moments before I declared, “Thank you for saving my life today…twice.”
I was not sure the beast understood what I said. It was an animal after all. An animal usually ferocious and violent. The vicious beast should have ravaged the moment it laid eyes on me. I was shaking, anxious, and bewildered. The flesheater gradually shifted in my direction. It motioned its massive head in a simple nod as if it understood my apology and gratefulness. It haltingly rose from the ground and stood upright with immense hind legs. The beast shuffled and I panicked. It motioned for me to sit and I did not argue with the flesheater.
I sat with my arms wrapped securely around my raised knees, unsure of my movements. The flesheater knelt beside me. With enormous beastly hands it handled my brown leather shoes and softly removed one of them. I attempted to steady my breathing as I repeatedly muttered in my head, “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.”
After the flesheater removed my shoe, it proceeded to rip one of my pant legs. It tore from the end to the middle of my calf and all around. It completely removed this portion. The sound of ripping fabric startled me. I was scared and inhaled a jittery gulp of air.
The beast bent forward and gently placed both hands to my shin as if to say, “Don’t worry, I am not going to hurt you.” My body seeped with doubt. What was he doing? I continued to sit as still as possible. My breathing was staggered and my heartbeat raced with trepidation. The beast sensed my fear and moved closer to me, making it impossible to relax. I could not refrain and my voice cracked with uncontrolled panic.
“Please, don’t hurt me.”
The flesheater’s unnerving eyes bore into mine, rendering me more unsettled. Its monstrous mouth appeared to smile, but it was hard to be certain because of its gleaming fangs. Did it find my plea humorous? I tried to remain calm while the beast inched even closer and gradually lifted its arm to my face. I prepared myself, anticipating an inevitable lash.
Unexpectedly, the flesheater grazed the side of my face with the back of his coarse hand. He touched me with tenderness and care and pierced me with an earnest gaze. I detected traces of brown within the unnatural glow of yellow in his stare. There was a distressing familiarity, something soft and kind. We stared into one another’s eyes for a moment longer. I was not scared anymore, but my heartbeat was racing.
He tore the loose material into two thick strips and tied them together. The flesheater leaned to the side of me. He cautiously lifted my shirt, revealing the area where his unretracted claws punctured my pale white skin. The beast gingerly wrapped the ripped material around my waist and covered the injury. It was difficult to process the phenomenon. Did a flesheater bandage my wounds? The beast stood and towered above me. He carefully and effortlessly lifted me to my feet.
The creature pointed to the hatch which lead out into the terrifying wilderness surrounding Starosa. Starosa, a place I was sure I would never see again. He proceeded to climb the prongs through the tunneled earth and motioned for me to stay. I did what he wanted. What choice did I have? The beast unsecured the latch and pushed the metal square open. He exited, reclosed the hole, and abandoned me underground.
I returned the soft leather shoe to my foot. The faded, dirty, and frayed laces desperately needed replaced. We were supplied new shoes each year. I was to be given a new pair in a month’s time, right around my birth month. This would no longer happen and my worn shoes would cru
mble rapidly in the wild terrain.
I decided to complete some precarious planning. Should I attempt an escape? Should I stay underground or should I flee? The flesheater’s actions indicated it did not want to cause me harm. Or did it? Was it simply prolonging my demise? After weighing all of my options, I decided to stay. I was presently safe in the underground area.
Judging by the dreary light, searing through the tiny holes in the metal square, it was close to eveningtide. In the morning, it would be imperative to locate food and water or death would be dangerously near. I was accustomed to a lack of nourishment. But the intensity of the day resulted in extreme fatigue and I was famished. I desperately wanted to eat and drink and would search for these necessities as soon as possible.
I was not sure if or when the flesheater would return, but prepared to settle for the night. I hoped to rest in the wavering promise of protection this underground room provided. I would refrain from venturing outside, until the sun was clearly bright in the sky. It would be unwise to brave the unknown wilderness in the darkness. With the assurance of a new day, I would depart from the uncharacteristic flesheater’s lair. I would leave, but I had no idea where I would go. But with fortitude, I refused to give into defeat.
I practically collapsed onto the dirt covered floor. I was fraught with exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. As I curled into an uncomfortable position, the earthen room was getting colder. The sun was undoubtedly peeking behind the mountains, and the gradual setting would end with me shivering in the night.
There was less illuminated light and my eyes adjusted to the growing darkness. Wintertide season was ending and the days were warming. However, the nights remained bitter. I huddled into myself for warmth. I prepared for the long and cold duration ahead. I was thankful to have the allotted, brown coat on my person. The exposed part of my leg, where the flesheater ripped my pants, was especially icy in the decreased temperature. I tucked it underneath my body.
I glanced blankly at the dirt wall before me. I attempted to numb an unrelenting ache from the day’s events. Old Jake’s death shattered my heart into fragments and they would never fit back into their right places again. I promised him I would live and I would strive to keep my word.
Old Jake told me to tell his wife he loved her. How was I going to accomplish this request? I did not know who he was talking about. Had he loved the woman he created his murdered son with? Who was she? Had I seen her around Starosa? If she was still there, how could I give her the message from a dying Old Jake? Had he spoken those words in a delirious state of fading, not meaning or knowing what he was saying? There were many unanswered questions. I was confused, lost, and hopeless. I missed him fiercely and anguished pools of moisture were brimming my eyes. I quickly wiped them and stared at the dirt wall more intently.
Something shiny caught my attention. It reflected the tiny remnants of light still creeping into the mystifying room. The area holding my focus was precisely where the flesheater slashed and punched the dingy wall earlier. The dirt crumbled to the floor and fell to reveal something underneath. With overpowering curiosity, I stood and walked cautiously to the glossy part occupying my attention. I touched it and a smooth hard surface met my senses. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be the corner of something larger. I rubbed and removed the earth covering the item of interest. My efforts exposed a rectangular metal object with printed letters etched in the center. It was a peculiar element, wedged within underground walls. The musty room, in the middle of what should have been nothing but forest and animals, was strange as well.
A reflected beam of light flitted across my features as I looked at the words. I recognized each letter and number stamped in the gleaming metal piece. After a few attempts, I triumphantly discovered what was imprinted. The letters and numbers on the metal said:
Test Site 2 of 3
I was confident these words were carved into the cold solid metal, but they lacked significance. I touched the words with my fingertips and envisioned Jude. An unwanted pang of longing simmered. I wanted to tell him how grateful I was for teaching me to read. How could one repay someone for such a gift?
Moments later, I curled into a ball of nerves on the hard, dust covered floor. The coolness of the ground, soothed the sting of fire on my face from the lashing fingerlike branches. As I drifted to sleep, I jerked in and out of consciousness. I was restless and shivering from the chilly weather.
In a dreamlike stupor I welcomed a presence. Did the flesheater return? Fear tethered my senses, but I was too groggy to investigate. Suddenly, I was enveloped in warmth. A cozy and woolly blanket wrapped around my body. Comforted, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 23
I woke to food and water waiting for me. The water was in a rock resembling a misshapen bowl. A handful of berries and other kinds of edible foliage were on display for my benefit. The nourishment ignited newfound strength to move forward. The flesheater sulked in the corner of the room, quietly waiting for me to savor my meager meal. I was calm and hopeful, except for an uneasy sensation gnawing at my insides. I peered into every corner of the underground room and there was not a single blanket in the vicinity.
The air was muggy, making my skin damp. It was as if I immersed myself in and out of tepid water. However, the only water in proximity had now settled into my mouth, throat, and stomach. After I finished eating and drinking, I ran my fingers through my long hair. It was a feeble attempt to untangle the mess from the day before and a restless night of sleep. I wished for the piece of string, carelessly left in the wooden chest of my room. I usually used it to tie my hair back, especially during labor hours. Much to my disappointment, I forgot to grab it before reporting for Remembrance Duty.
I glimpsed the flesheater studiously examining the metal piece in the wall. He was tracing the wording with clawed fingers. I peered at his knife wound from Rykeir’s hateful hands. The deep gash appeared remarkably better. This proved a Starosa rumor; flesheaters healed at a faster rate than humans.
The flesheater gave the impression he was reading the inscription, but I quickly shook the bizarre notion away. This was an animal after all, right? The morning sun’s rays were seeping through the holes in the covering above. They were a bright reminder of what I prepared to do the night before. I became antsy to begin my journey.
I needed to find Zander. If Rykeir or Shane were successful in their lethal attack, they would have left his body to rot. They would not have the decency to do more. I had to discover for myself the fate he encountered. I pushed the horrible possibilities away. I assured myself he would only be injured, and I endeavored to help him.
I did not entertain the idea of flesheaters finding him. I refused to imagine his weakened bloody body, being the victim of their massive fangs and claws. The disturbing image reminded me of my present company. I was not sure if the abnormal flesheater would simply let me go, but I would strive to break free. He faced me as I stood from the ground. I gingerly lifted my shirt and investigated the claw wounds. The makeshift bandage was crimson stained, but it appeared as if the bleeding stopped. I removed the blood stained remedy with a grimace and tucked it into the pocket of my pants. I lacked a fresh covering, but this way my wounds were not covered in old, dirty blood.
The beast was regarding me with a tormented expression. Other flesheaters glowered in crazed anger and insatiable hunger. This one seemed as if he were trying not to weep. It was peculiar and as unsettling as my unknown future.
He would not understand, but I spoke, “Thank you for your help. Thank you for the food and water.”
I paused momentarily, unable to look directly at the creature.
I promptly added, “I have to go now.”
The flesheater gestured what seemed to be apprehension and disagreement. My pulse increased with unease. Would I escape or would I become a prisoner of this strange beast? I decided to take my chances. The exit beckoned from above and I ascended the metal prongs leading to the opening. The fleshea
ter’s gigantic form did not immediately advance and he let me go. I departed without resistance and an unnerving stillness.
I struggled to budge the metal pillars keeping the hatch secured. I cursed the fact I was not stronger. Following an exhaustive amount of strength, the metal finally budged. I heaved the heavy covering open. The weight and gravity immediately forced the metal hatch back down and it slammed against my arm. This assured another bruise to the recently and increased discoloration of my body.
I resumed climbing the prongs and used momentum and strenuous strength to keep the hatch from reclosing. With excessive exertion, I finally maneuvered my way out of the strange hole and considered my whereabouts. I was surrounded by greenery. The forestland was densely populated with towering trees. Upon further investigation, I could not find any trails or well-traveled paths. The curious entry into the ground was the widest space the trees allowed in their encompassing dominance. How far into the wilderness did the flesheater carry me?
The creature cautiously scaled the mysterious underground tunnel. I persisted to glance from one place to another, deciding my next move. I pretended the flesheater was not there and stepped in the direction Zander might be, but was considerably lost. The weather was hot and suffocating. It was unnaturally warm for being nestled beneath so many trees and subsequent shade.
The beast rustled with a nearby tree. I refused to look in his vicinity and progressed forward. I perceived powerful tracks behind me. I was panicked, but determined to keep purposefully striding ahead. A gust of wind rustled and teased my hair. It trickled across my neck and shoulders resulting in goosebumps. The movement broke my resolve not to investigate. I twisted around, but nothing was there.
Irritated, I angled in my original direction once more. I was instantaneously stunned. The flesheater jumped swiftly and had positioned himself in my path. His large frame hovered over mine and hindered my steps onward. He was gripping an abnormally large branch and glowered with conviction. The leafy weapon was dangerously raised. I was afraid, but stood unflinching and bold. I courageously anticipated the attack and refused to cower.
The Forbidden Plan Page 17
