by CJ Birch
“Good point. No touching the pretty pink fuzz. It sort of reminds me of a book my mom used to read to me. All the trees had these cool pink wispy tops before they chopped them all down.”
We head back in the direction we’ve come, searching for trees that will allow us to see more of the forest. But most of them are tall without any lower limbs to climb. After another kilometer or so we hear a loud thud. It’s followed by a string of obscenities that would make even Sarka blush. Ash takes off before I can stop her, not that I could in my condition. I follow at a slower pace, but when I come over the ridge, I forget my injuries and scramble through the underbrush.
Hartley and Yakovich are struggling up an incline. Even from the back I can tell Yakovich broke her leg. It’s bent at a strange angle and hangs limp, toeing the ground.
Chapter Seventeen
“They set traps, Captain.” Yakovich grits her teeth. “They’re hunting us down.” Sweat pools at her brow, dirt and blood streak her face, but beneath I can see the ashen pallor. We need to find a way to get her back to the ship as soon as possible before she goes into shock.
We’ve laid her down on a patch of bright green moss—after checking it was, in fact, moss—at the top of an incline. I don’t know how she’s managed to make it this far, or how she’s even conscious at this point. Her leg is bad. I’m no medic, but I know enough to recognize a compound fracture. Part of the bone is sticking out near her ankle. And there’s a shirt—Hartley’s since he’s not wearing one—tied around the wound. I could smack him, but it’s obvious he has no medical training whatsoever.
I untie the shirt and pass it back to him. I examine the damage like I know what I’m doing when all I want to do is puke at the sight of bone piercing skin.
Everyone’s hovering over me, watching, like any second I’m going to become magic and fix her leg. Even though I know it’s only in my head, their breathing becomes claustrophobic. I need to get them out of the way.
“Hartley, I need you to go find me two long thin branches, and some vine, if you can, to lash the sticks to her leg. How much water do you guys have?” Hartley shakes his head. “Do you still have your water canister from your pack?” Hartley unclips a one liter bottle from his belt and passes it to me. “That’s it?” They both nod. “Okay, Ash, I want you to help me set her leg, then I want you to go see if you can find some water.” Everyone’s standing there, motionless. “Hartley, I’m going to need those branches sooner rather than later.”
“On it, Captain. I’ll go find you the straightest sticks you’ve ever seen.” He dashes into the underbrush, streaks of sunlight dancing off his pale, scrawny back.
“Where do you need me?” Ash looks up at me from across Yakovich, even if her concern isn’t in her voice, it’s all over her face.
I point to Yakovich’s thigh. “I need you to hold the top of her leg while I apply traction. We need to get it aligned before we splint it.”
Ash repositions herself next to Yakovich. “Hey,” she says as she crouches next to her. “Quinn, this is going to hurt like a bitch, but I promise you’ll feel much better when we’re done, okay?” Ash wipes some dirt from her cheek before turning back to me.
“Quinn, I want you to count to ten, okay? It’ll all be over in ten.” I wait until she nods. When she’s not looking, I hold up three fingers for Ash to see. She nods and we both grab Yakovich’s leg. Her ankle is tacky with blood and it takes me a moment to find a firm grip.
“Everybody ready?” I ask. They nod, both with eyes so fearful I wonder if my expression mirrors theirs. I can only hope I’ve managed to tamp my fear down and project a confidence I don’t feel.
When Yakovich gets to three, I pull out and down as hard as I can. I hear bone popping back into place and hope it was just my imagination. Yakovich’s scream is so loud, nearby birds take off in flight.
Ash turns back to Yakovich. “It’s done. We’re done. We’re going to splint your leg and you’ll feel much better.”
Yakovich preempts my next question. “Hartley doesn’t have his first aid kit with him. He dropped his pack back at the clearing.”
Ash perks up. “Wait a second.” She reaches for her enviro-suit and pulls out a clear plastic bag the size of her palm. “It didn’t fit in my pack, so I stashed it there.” She turns it over in her hand. “It’s got aspirin and some antiseptic pads with some gauze.” She shrugs, “It’s not a lot, but…”
I take the kit and open it. I want to laugh at how ineffectual the two inch antiseptic pads will be. There’s a gaping hole in Yakovich’s leg. The aspirin will help. I smile anyway and thank Ash. At least it’s something.
Ash leaves to find water and I’m left alone with Yakovich in the middle of a strange and noisy jungle. With natives hunting us. Let’s not forget the natives.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t see the trap until it was too late.”
I reposition myself so I can hear Yakovich, whose voice has become hoarse and far too soft. “It’s not your fault. This is all a new experience for us. We’re trying to get through it as best we can.”
“I’m going to slow you down now.” A tear escapes from the corner of her eye and slides down her temple. “Captain.” She takes a deep breath and wipes the tear away. When she collects herself, her voice is strong and decisive. “You should leave me behind. I’ll be fine for a little while if you hide me in the bushes.” She rubs the tears that are now flowing down her face. “I’ll still be here when you can come back with more crew and weapons.”
“Stop being so goddamned noble. No one’s leaving you behind. Even if you were missing both your legs, I wouldn’t leave you.”
I ball my enviro-suit and lift her head onto it. I pick a large leaf and fan her face. It probably doesn’t help cool her down much, but it keeps the bugs from landing.
“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m not going to die out here, Captain.” She shakes her head from side to side. “There’s something so final about dying in a place like this. On ships you get jettisoned into space, so you get to keep moving, you know? I’ve never spent much time in places that didn’t move. Not even on the Belt. I grew up on ships. We were always moving. The idea of being stuck in one place after I’m dead is the scariest thing I can think of.”
“No one’s going to die. It’s only a broken leg. We’ve already done the hard part and now we’re going to splint it and we’ll carry you out of here. With three of us, it won’t be any trouble.” I keep the leaf moving. It seems to have a calming effect. Her eyes start to droop. “That’s right. Save your energy. You’re going to need it.”
When the others return, we devise a sort of stretcher out of vine and the thin bark. It’s sturdy enough to lift Yakovich. She fades in and out of consciousness, while the three of us distribute our strength. We lift her using two of the less straight branches Hartley found.
As we raise her, I pay close attention to Yakovich. She doesn’t flinch, and that worries me more. Her skin is almost gray. I’m sure she’s going into shock. I gave her two aspirin and half a liter of water, leaving the other half liter for the three of us to ration. We’re going to have to find a water source before we reach the ship. Hartley assures me it’s only four kilometers from our current position.
Progress is slow. Ash and Hartley carry the poles in front of the stretcher while I’ve got the rear. This deep in the forest, there isn’t a lot of give when it comes to the underbrush. It’s covered in tangles and dead bushes, fallen vines and rotten trees. My hand is killing me. The cut along my palm has reopened and the mixture of blood and sweat is making it difficult to hold the pole.
My boot squelches into something soft and I cringe to think what it might be. I try to keep my mind occupied on other things. After all, it’s like compost. Only with animals and vegetation. It’s what allows more vegetation and animals to thrive. It still doesn’t stop me from getting creeped out every time the forest floor sucks at my boot.
By late afternoon, we’re all covered
in sweat and dirt. Dehydration is my biggest concerns. We’re leaking so much fluid I’m afraid we’re going to shrivel up like raisins in a dehydrator. Every crack and squawk, every rustle has me tensing. If they’re hunting us, we’re doing an excellent job of announcing our location.
“What do you think they want with us?” Ash asks. Every few minutes she rubs her palms on her shirt and switches hands.
“I’m more worried about what’s in that pyramid they want opened.” Both Ash and Hartley turn with stunned expressions. “You didn’t see the giant pyramid?”
They shake their heads in unison, dumbfounded. Hartley’s face lights up like he’s discovered how to create wormholes from juice mix. “There was an earlier civilization that lived here.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”
“How do you know these guys didn’t build it?” Ash asks.
“Pyramids require a lot of resources. They usually denote a civilization with agriculture and a higher form of labor division. These creatures are definitely in a pre-civilization state.” Sometimes I wonder if Hartley spent his childhood devouring textbooks.
“Also, they wouldn’t be trying to open it with our blood if they had. They might think we’re the builders and want us to open it for them. They’ve probably created myths around these structures and how they got there.” It’s also probably why they’re hunting us. But I don’t mention that part. If they see us as a hostile invasion on their territory, they will kill us.
“They used your blood?” Both Hartley and Ash ask this at once, each with very different intonations. Hartley is so intrigued, he might wet himself a little.
“Why? What do you think it means?” I’ve been wondering why they would think our blood would open up a locked door.
“It could mean a lot of things. But they’ve deciphered some meaning at the entrance of the pyramid that calls for a life substance of some kind. Did anyone’s blood open it?”
”No.”
“And they’ve obviously tried their own.” He walks on in deep thought, his mind working over the problem. He’s so excited he’s seemingly forgotten we’re carrying an injured crew mate through the jungle. Finally, he turns back and asks, “Did you see any symbols on the door?”
It was dark, but I do remember seeing etchings along the top of the door. “Yeah, there were two circles joined together, not quite like an infinity but more like a Celtic knot. There were a few others but I couldn’t make them out.”
And then chaos.
I don’t even see the avians until they’re upon us. I feel the tip of his spear pricking my shoulder. The musk stench of his body is so close it’s overpowering. I turn and stare up at the leader. His eyes are black pools of hate.
Chapter Eighteen
We break through the forest and stop. Ahead of us is the strangest, most confusing thing I’ve ever seen. We’ve reached their village. Instead of finding caves or huts like I’m expecting, their homes are hundreds of feet above us.
Ash and Hartley are as mesmerized as I am. Hartley’s mouth drops at the spectacle of hundreds of avians soaring overhead. The light filters through the canopy and catches their wings. When spread wide, they allow them to glide between the trees.
The avians have hollowed out the trunks. At that height, the circumference is still considerable. Each tree has a small platform to provide a spot for landing. Next to each dock, they’ve strung rope and small logs for bridges.
I’m curious. If they can fly, why do they need bridges between the trees? Then I see why. Some of them don’t have wings.
Ash nudges me. As we move close enough to see details, I discover they aren’t underdeveloped wings or even stunted. They’re bound in natural rope, cutting the circulation until they fall off. As we’re pushed through the throng of avians, we realize those who’ve had their wings removed are female.
It’s easy to distinguish the females once you know what to look for. They’re shorter and darker than the males. Also, the females are in constant motion. They rush around carrying baskets of food or prepared hides. Most appear to spend their time on the ground and I don’t blame them. If I couldn’t fly, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the sky. Why do they stay?
Ash leans over and whispers, “Why do they let them do that?” Her face is contorted in bafflement. They look like slaves, cowed and broken. And I know Ash can’t understand being dominated, because no one could ever break her. There isn’t a force in the universe that would make her submit.
But I know. I saw it on the ships growing up. There were people so broken they had no option but to live each day as if the next would never be any better. They gave up. I’ve seen what it’s like to live without hope. They don’t care if they live or die. That’s why they’re forced to have kids. It’s why my mom had me. It anchors them to their oppressors. But my mom wasn’t cowed, she was biding her time until she could escape with me.
That’s where the revolution should begin. If you have no fear of death, and you have nothing to live for, rise up and scream.
We’re shoved onto a platform and hoisted into the canopy. It’s slow and with each pull more of the lower village comes into focus. By the time we get to the top, I can see the network of trees strung together. They reach far off into the distance like a city in the clouds. As the sun sets, light streams through the branches like tentacles reaching out to snare us in a trap. A sense of dread forms, small and tight in my stomach, as we’re led along the rope bridges to a dark hollowed out trunk.
We’re not alone. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, two other bodies come into focus, Fossick and Foer. Dread unfurls and creeps through my body.
“Where’s everyone else? We haven’t seen Chloe or Mani,” I say.
Foer shakes his head, but doesn’t answer. He has a large gash on his chin and he’s cradling his arm. Fossick looks filthy. Dirt coats his arms and undershirt. His knees are scuffed and coated with dried blood. For several minutes no one says anything.
Then Fossick asks, “Where’s Yakovich?” and I look away as tears fill my eyes. I want to tell them we had no choice. But that’s the coward’s answer. The truth is, I couldn’t think of any way to save her.
“We had to leave her behind.” I scrunch my eyes shut. I can still see the fear in her eyes as we left. She’s going to die out there, and we all know it, including her.
“We didn’t do anything. That was all you, Captain,” Ash says.
I don’t know if there’s anger behind that comment, but there’s judgment. If Ash had her way, we would have all died fighting to bring her along. When she punched that avian in the face, she didn’t think it all the way through. She never does. That’s why I had to make the decision for her. She may never forgive me for holding her back. But I don’t have the luxury of being noble. When faced with losing one crew member to save three, the odds were against Yakovich. I can’t gamble with lives like that. But Ash doesn’t care about these things. She only sees the black and white of it. As Captain, I have to view the world in gray.
“We’re not going to leave her behind. I’m going to get us out of here. Even if I have to search the entire goddamned planet, we’re bringing her body back with us. I’m not going to leave her on this planet.” I stand, unable to still the anxiousness deep inside me. “I promised her I wouldn’t.” I turn toward the inner wall, unable to look Ash in the eye. I pick away at the bark, pulling at the fibrous strands that line our hollowed out prison cell.
“I’m sure that’s a comfort, Captain.” Ash’s voice is hard and mean.
I turn to confront her. “Would you rather we all died? You think they would have hesitated to smash us in the back of the head and leave us there? We’re not alive because they need us. We’re alive because they haven’t figured us out yet. I’ve seen their kind before. I grew up surrounded by that mentality. The second we become a nuisance, they’ll kill us. We’d all be dead right now if I hadn’t stepped in.”
Hartley reaches up and places a hand on Ash’
s forearm. “Why don’t we turn our energy to getting the hell out of here? I, for one, don’t want the giant homicidal birds to kill us.”
Foer raises his hand. “I’m on board with that.”
Ash rips her arm free of Hartley’s grasp and sits in a far corner.
I go back to picking at the inner bark, going over our options. “Was Sarka with you guys?”
“No. We haven’t seen him since the giant moss monster.”
“You think he’ll come for us?” Foer, always the optimist. I hate to crush his hope.
“Davis Sarka has always been a man for himself. Always will be.” By now, he’s made it back to my ship, taken charge and left us here to rot. “We’re on our own for getting out of here.” I take a seat facing the others. “So let’s figure this out. Any suggestions?”
Over the next hour, we go over every scenario we can think of. I’ve gotten everyone to dump out what they’ve still managed to hold on to. This leaves us with a couple Band-Aids, an empty water canister, a compass, and a protein ration pack. All the tools we need for liberation.
The door crashes open and another body stumbles into the room. For a brief second, I hope it’s Sarka, but the form is too short and stocky.
It’s Mani. He looks like he went swimming in mud. He’s still wearing his environmental suit, it’s ripped and covered in dirt and green streaks.
“Owen! I thought the moss monster ate you,” Foer says.
He shakes his head and slides down the wall. His mop of hair tries valiantly to follow the motions of his swiveling head, but it’s lank from the humidity.
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
“If safe is locked inside a tree, fifty meters up, waiting for angry birds to eat us, then I agree with that assessment,” Fossick says.
“Keep your sarcasm to yourself, please. It’s not helping,” I say.
