Zonaton

by Mooney, Linda

  She had no idea how long or how far she jogged. The moons finally rose, giving her a glimpse of the mountains, now somewhat visible in the distance. The pale light would also make her stand out, despite her dark clothes and hair. Plus, there remained the flat, open plain between the village and the mountains she had to cross before she reached the huge boulders where she could hide at the base of the nearest cliff.

  Another dark shadow passed above her. Emmala froze and waited for the geron to fly by. The black shape bleeped as it glided toward the village. At the sound, the hair on her head stood up.

  What?

  Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the rectangular form bleeped again. A second later, a stream of greenish light poured from the shape, and something exploded with a hard flash of bright orange flames.

  The truth slammed into her brain. That's not a geron. It's that alien craft from the crater! It's the miners!

  Instinct told her to run for the mountains, but her heart told her differently. In spite of what happened between her and her mother in the past, she still loved her father. She had to get him and Markeem out of the village before the whole town was reduced to rubble.

  Ignoring the little voice in her head that berated her for her decision, Emmala scaled the rock wall again, dropped to the other side, and took off at a run for her father's home.

  A scream of pain or anger echoed overhead. She glanced up to see a dark violet geron letting go with a geyser of fire at something below. There was more screaming, and she rushed to keep behind a row of nearby houses.

  The world was filling up with brightness as homes caught ablaze, exploding like enormous bombs, and sending rock shards skyward and outward like tiny knives. She saw some of the rock structures burn like candles, and for the first time, she witnessed the stone melting from the heat's intensity.

  Someone passed her, silent and terrified. People were running for the perimeter wall. Running for their lives. It was then Emmala remembered that her father and brother had probably gone to the center of town to await the gerons' return, and to see what would happen when the councilmen made known their decision. If they were still there, she had no other choice but to try and find them, and get them away from the village.

  I could take them back to the cave where Zonaton and I lived.

  But first, she had to get back to her father's house. Hopefully, she would discover them there. If not, then she had to make her way to the town square and pray she would run into them either there or along the way.

  On the other side of the street, another beam of pale green light spurted from the flat ship. This time she saw a geron take the brunt of the weapon's power. The creature exploded in a thousand chunks of bloody pink meat, spewing blood over the area like hot, pink rain.

  Cold fear froze her momentarily as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Without a doubt, the gerons had returned to see if the villagers were willing to turn over those responsible for killing Zonaton. The villagers must have refused. But why the alien miners had chosen to attack at that moment remained a mystery.

  Fire and confusion reigned. People were screaming as they raced for what they believed was safety. But as she watched, the villagers climbing over the walls were met with a river of greenish flames from another flat ship.

  Two ships?

  Emmala squinted and stared at the first ship, now hovering in the distance.

  "Wait. That ship looks smaller than..."

  Then it became clear to her.

  "The miners' ship, it comes apart! It breaks apart in pieces!"

  Which meant there could be three, four, maybe a dozen miniature ships flying overhead. And all of them spouting that horrendous green flame.

  "Wait. Wait." She pressed a head to her forehead. "Wait. Wouldn't all of those littler ships need to be piloted? How many miners did we see at the crater? How many miners were there?"

  The picture Zonaton had formed in her mind came back to her. Eight creatures, one pilot, nine total.

  "No. Not one pilot. Nine pilots. Nine smaller ships that, when assembled, become one huge ship."

  A geron swooped overhead, screeching loudly before letting go with a bright yellow blast from its throat. The energy hit something. One of the alien ships. The explosion became a fireball, and the world lit up in a beautiful conflagration of reds and oranges. She could see the shadows of people running to get out of the way of the fiery pieces raining down on them.

  Glancing down the street at the burning houses, she noticed the perimeter wall was not too far behind them. It would take her too long to go back the way she'd come, around the outside of the wall. It would be faster taking a straight shot to her father's home, and staying behind the houses, out of view.

  Let's just hope he and Markeem are there.

  She had no trouble rushing to the rear of the nearest house and hiding behind it, letting the fire mask her movements. But she had difficulty trying to figure out which way to proceed from there. Amid the noise, the flames, and confusion, she could only guess which way to go.

  Several gerons flew overhead, going in the direction she assumed was the center of the village. It helped her determine which route to take. Keeping her head down, Emmala hurried through several backyards, jumping the low rock fences between the properties like they were hurtles.

  Another small rectangular ship flew over. It spouted its terrible green fire, and the two gerons it was tailing fell like bright shooting stars. Intent on watching the horrible spectacle, she didn't see the young woman running toward her until they crashed into each other. The woman shrieked in pain and surprise as they bounced apart and landed onto the turf.

  "What's happening? Why are those ships firing on us?" the woman whined. Emmala didn't recognize her, but the woman's eyes widened. "You! It's all your fault! All of this is all your fault!" Rather than argue with her, Emmala scrambled to her feet and continued running as the woman continued to stand on the sidewalk and yell obscenities at her.

  She managed to get to the end of the block. Not seeing anyone or anything coming from either direction on the street, she tried to make a dash for it to the next row of houses.

  The big geron nearly landed on top of her, knocking her to the dirt. Turning onto her back, Emmala stared up at the creature, who spread his wings and let out an ear-splitting screech. It grabbed her with one clawed hand and reached down with its beak open to tear at her, when she threw up her hands and cried out mentally. "No! I am an innocent!"

  The geron froze. Its dark eyes stared at her in the varying light. Who are you?

  "Emmala."

  Zonaton's Emmala?

  "Yes!"

  The creature bowed its head. Hurry. You must leave this place.

  "What's happening?"

  The miners are attacking. You must leave.

  "Why were you going to attack me? Who are you fighting? The villagers, or the miners?"

  I was not attacking you. I was knocked down by the enemy.

  A brief series of images entered her mind, and everything became clear to her.

  The geron swept the road with its wings, catching her with the tips and rolling her over onto her stomach so she could stand. Go now. Run to save yourself.

  "I can't! I must find my father and brother first before I can leave."

  A spurt of green fire arched overhead, attracting their attention. Without saying anything more, the geron leaped into the sky. Emmala watched as the creature let go with hard blast from its throat. The flare of energy struck the side of the ship, and fragments from the craft exploded outward. She took cover against a house as the pieces bounced off the roof and landed in the yard. One hot segment landed mere inches from her foot. The intense heat from the metal immediately set the grass on fire, but she couldn't worry about that now. Once the area was clear, she continued to hurry.

  There was no way she could reach her father's house first. Her remaining hope was to pass through the center of the village, placing herself directly in th
e line of fire, and proceeding on to her father's home from there.

  Pausing to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder at the distant mountain range. Looking back at what lay before her, she briefly debated whether to go on, or to turn around and head for her own home.

  Her conscience bit hard. He was her Papa. Markeem was the little brother she had yet to get to know. They were all the family she had left on this planet. With Zonaton gone, who could she turn to when she needed help?

  Bowing her head, she dipped a hand inside her pants pocket and clutched the single scale that was her last link to her beautiful friend. What would Zonaton want her to do?

  I have no one else. Zonaton, when I need you the most, you aren't here.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she raced off toward the square.

  Vlase

  Zonaton felt a disturbance. Slowly, he rotated around until he could sense where it was the strongest. Once he zeroed in on it, he began walking toward it.

  "Do not venture there."

  A different aura approached him. It let off a soft gray, misty glow. He did not sense anything dangerous about it, and drew closer.

  "Who are you?"

  "Vlase. Do not go where you are headed."

  "Why?"

  "It is beyond our reach. It is not our problem."

  "Not our problem?" Pausing, Zonaton took a hard look around him. At the indistinct ground beneath his feet. At the fuzzy, out-of-focus world where he now existed. A golden ball of light drifted past him, going in the opposite direction. He watched as it melted away before turning back to the gray mist.

  "First I met Borin, now you. If this is my afterlife, why are there guardians?"

  "Many of you who have reached this plateau need guidance. It is not a personal issue."

  Pointing in the direction where he was going, Zonaton started to ask another question, when a greenish light sparked. If he had not been staring at that point in space, he knew he would have missed it.

  "What is going on beyond this plateau, as you call it?"

  "It is none of our concern."

  Zonaton stared down at the gentle whiteness that should be his hand. "If this is my afterlife, why do I slumber? Why do I still eat because I am hungry?"

  "Because you are. Because you must."

  Shaking his head, Zonaton pointed again in the direction where he had seen the flash of light. "I am curious to see what caused that light."

  He sensed Vlase turned to look where he pointed. "Perhaps it is another soul coming to the afterlife," the gray form suggested.

  "Perhaps? You do not know?"

  "I know it is none of your concern, or mine."

  A pale lavender form drifted between them, and was quickly swallowed by the mist. Zonaton pointed at the spot where it had disappeared. "If this is the afterlife, why am I only seeing a few of us? This place should be crowded."

  "Think of this plane as a holding place."

  "A holding place?"

  "Until you determine where and how you want to spend your second life."

  Zonaton shook his head in confusion. "I do not understand. This is not my second life?"

  "No. We await your decision."

  "Who is we? What decision must I make?" A yellowish form appeared behind Vlase, went around the misty shape, then vanished. Zonaton motioned at where it had been. "Is he like me? Undecided? Are you waiting for him, too?"

  "He is one of many who have yet to become aware to the point where he can make his choice."

  "Become aware? That is your way of saying woke up, correct? I woke up to realize I am in a temporary holding pen until I make my decision. Am I correct?"

  Vlase said nothing, but Zonaton knew he had made the right assumption.

  "What is going on over there?" He pointed again at the place where he had seen the green light. "And if you tell me it is none of my business, I will make it my business." Another thought came to him. One that would prove astounding if it was true. "Am I still on my world?"

  The mist paused. After several long moments, Vlase answered. "Yes."

  "Behind the mountains?"

  "Yes."

  It was an area very few gerons knew about. Behind the mountains lay a deep crevasse. Zonaton remembered being taught never to go to the crevasse because it was dangerous. Because gerons who went there never came back.

  "Are we inside the crevasse?"

  "Yes."

  He moved closer to the misty form. "Are you a geron? Or are you like me?"

  Vlase retreated slightly. Zonaton couldn't tell if the form was afraid of contact, or afraid of him. Or perhaps both.

  "I chose to remain in this form, in order to help others," Vlase finally replied.

  "You...chose?" Zonaton would swear he felt his heart speed up. "You chose to remain in your misty shape?"

  "Yes."

  "And you said earlier I could choose as well?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I choose to become geron again?"

  For a second time, he sensed the form's hesitation. Finally, Vlase spoke. "A few have made that decision."

  "And they were able to go back up top, back to the world we came from, to live out their second lives?"

  "That is what they decided."

  Revelation came as a hard shock. It took him a while to process the thought before he could speak. "The Elders, they are living their second lives as gerons."

  The form refused to answer, which could only mean he was correct in his assumption. And it also explained so much. Especially the reason why, as a geron nearing the end of his first life, why he had to answer to them, when they appeared to be younger in years.

  "If I choose to go back as a geron again, will I become an Elder?"

  Again, Vlase remained mute, neither denying nor verifying his earlier remark.

  Zonaton started to say that was also his choice, when he saw another spark of green light come and go in the distance. At the same time, a face floated across his mind like a breath of wind. A face that was different from his own, but one he knew he should recognize. Unfortunately, a name refused to accompany the visage.

  "What is happening over there?" he pointed asked again.

  "It is a disturbance, but do not worry. It will not affect us down here."

  "But it is happening on the surface. How can I see something on the surface, when I am down inside the crevasse?"

  "Do not bother yourself with useless questions. Simply accept what is."

  The strangely familiar face reappeared. The face that was smudged with dirt and wet with tears. A beautiful face that brought a warmth to his thought.

  "Will the disturbance affect others?"

  "It is none of our concern."

  The face hovered before his eyes. The mouth moved, but he could not hear the words. Something tugged on his neck, and the face drew away until all he could see was a single white scale that shone in the sunlight.

  "Emmala." The word came unbidden from within himself. It brought with it a flood of longing, which centered inside his chest and slowly tightened until he could barely breathe.

  "Emmala." Saying the word again this time brought happiness with it. There was a brightness out there that hadn't been there earlier. A smile filled with sunshine. Laughing eyes.

  "Emmala." This time, when the face reappeared, it bore a loving expression that flooded him with a hunger that was nearly painful. Not a hunger borne of the need for sustenance, but of the need to hold and touch, and have that face appear before his over and over, again and again, for days on end.

  "Zonaton." Vlase's voice shattered the moment.

  "I have chosen," he told the form.

  "I am aware of that, but do you realize you will no longer have your strength or your ability to fly if that is your final decision? You will be wingless, as well as smaller in stature."

  "I will find a way to be strong. I will find my own new abilities. I will adapt. Just...let me go back to Emmala. You wished to remain here to help others. Allow
me to go help her."

  "This will be your last life."

  "Then let me spend it with her."

  "This is unprecedented. You will be placing yourself at great risk, to the point where this last life could be shorter than your first."

  Zonaton fought the water rising in his eyes. Were these tears? His face felt hot, as if he was too close to a fire. Regardless, he nodded. "If it is, it will be a small price to pay to be with her. I loved her in the only way I could as a geron, but she still needs me. I must continue to protect her, but allow me to do so while also loving her in human ways. In the physical way...as a human male."

  "That is your decision?"

  "That is my command."

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on an image, on the likeness he wished to be reborn in. Vlase paused. Zonaton waited patiently, even though his eagerness to be on his way grew with every passing second.

  Vlase made a vague gesture. "Have a good life, Zonaton."

  Zonaton closed his eyes again as he mentally bade farewell to his guide. There was no feeling of anything happening. No sense of ascension or change. There was only a rush of wind, then silence. A heartbeat later, he could hear a booming noise coming from beyond.

  Opening his eyes, he could clearly see the mountains where green light flashed beyond the ridge. On the other side of those mountains was the person bearing the face he cherished in his mind. Somewhere out there was Emmala.

  A cool breeze blew over his new flesh. Chilled, he tried to wrap his arms about himself, without luck. This shape had no scales or thick hide to protect him from the elements. And come nighttime, the weather would become unbearable. If he took off running, perhaps the exercise would help keep him warm, or warm enough until he could find something to protect him. A blanket perhaps.

  He barely took in his new form as he turned toward the flashes of light. Yet, the mountains were calling to him, singing their siren song of wistfulness and longing. Why, or how, he didn't know. The mountains were telling him that Emmala should be there. That she could be waiting at the mountains, not where the green flashes of light and thunderous noise were occurring.