Zonaton

by Mooney, Linda

  He found a pair that fit somewhat. Going back into the main living area, he tried the kitchen to see if there was anything there worth eating. There were containers of food items stacked in the cupboards. Items he didn't have any way of recognizing. All his previous life he'd fed on a diet of raw meat. On the animals which were the main staple. He wondered if his new form would be able to handle the same kind of food, or if he would have to resort to a half-meat, half-plant type of sustenance. The foods...

  Emmala.

  He paused, container in hand, and felt the worry begin to weave around his insides. Was she here in the village? Had she survived the attack?

  His gut instinct told him she was still alive. She had survived, and she was out there. Somewhere.

  The only way I will be able to find her is by looking for her. I can not stop until I find her.

  Taking the container with him, he exited the house and peered in the direction where the thickest cloud of smoke continued to billow into the morning sky. Something continued to burn. Something in what appeared to be the center of the village, if he remembered correctly. Would Emmala be there?

  Tearing off the lid, he used two fingers to scoop out the contents the way he'd seen her do it. The taste burst in his mouth and on his tongue with flavors he had never experienced before. A little tart, a little sweet, but overall not unpleasant. His stomach rumbled, and he took a second bite, and promptly nipped his fingertips.

  Jerking his fingers out of his mouth, he stared at the two bruised digits. He had teeth now. In fact, there were a lot of things about him that he had now but didn't when he was a geron.

  "I must be careful in this new form. It is the only one I have left."

  He startled himself. The words had come out tangled and a little unintelligible, but they had been words. Not a squawk like he'd expected. And his tone was deep. Strange sounding.

  "I can talk." Those words were a bit clearer, but still jumbled. "It will take time. And practice. Lots of practice."

  The contents of the container were gone. His stomach felt full, and his head seemed clearer. Tossing the empty container on the ground, Zonaton knelt to wipe his fingers on the grass as he gazed around. "Which way do I go? Where do I head?"

  Emmala, where are you?

  The center of the village, a tiny voice in his head answered. Nodding, he went in that direction, using his instinct to guide him as he was unable to read the markers set at the end of the streets. He vaguely remembered that all roads eventually led to the main square. If he remained true to his course and didn't veer, he knew he would eventually reach his destination.

  As he drew closer to the market area, he spotted something large, black, and rectangular lying at an angle where it had crashed into one of the houses. He instantly recognized it as part of the miners' space craft. One of the nine separate smaller ships that made up the whole. Giving it a wide berth, he continued on toward the central hub.

  The geron was sitting on the stone slab podium, watching him approach with its crystalline gaze. Zonaton approached the creature without fear and stopped in front of the dais.

  I should know you, the geron acknowledged. I sense it. You are not one of the humans, and yet you are.

  Zonaton smiled. "As well you should know me, Baragas. I am Zonaton."

  The pale blue creature reacted in shock. You lost your first life when the humans killed you. Yet this is the form you chose for your second one? That of one of them?

  "It is."

  Why? It is a weak form. It has no wings or musculature. You have allowed yourself to become virtually helpless. The creature paused, then arched its long neck toward him. You did it for your Pair.

  "I did," Zonaton acknowledged.

  Why?

  "Because I came to love her."

  The geron chewed on the comment. You love her enough to sacrifice your second life to become one of them?

  "It is not a sacrifice. Not to me. Not unless she is no longer among us."

  For the first time, he allowed himself to voice the fears that had begun to plague him ever since he initially saw the extent of the village's destruction. Opening his arms to encompass the area, he looked around.

  "Have you seen her? Is she here? Can you tell me if she survived the miners' attack?"

  Baragas shook himself. I cannot say for certain, but I can ask others if they have seen or spoken to her since the miners' defeat. You were right to be wary of the aliens, Zonaton. Although their main focus this time appeared to be the humans, and not us, we have no doubt they would have attacked us as well. In the future, if they ever appear on our world again, we will not be hesitant to drive them off or kill them.

  "So all the miners are gone? Are dead?"

  Yes.

  "Were many humans killed?"

  Yes, but many fled to the other villages.

  Zonaton nodded, and his gaze went to the podium. More memories, hazy and distant, came to him. Although they weren't clear, their emotional impact remained solid.

  Emmala. Her tear-stained face. Don't die, Zonaton. Please. Stay with me.

  The angry mob of people shouting at them.

  The vision of Emmala's mother with the self-satisfied smirk on her face as the pain blossomed in his chest.

  The pain. The numbing, soul-stealing pain.

  He was unaware of the geron taking off as he bowed his head and clenched his fists. His kind could only detect those children who bore the genes of hate and destruction. The ones who would grow up to kill maliciously and with extreme horror. But there were those like Emmala's mother who slipped through their detection during The Walk. People like her who would not kill, but instead made other's lives miserable. Who thrived on their own power to dominate and emotionally destroy.

  He had not chosen to come back as a human simply to live with Emmala once more, until the rest of their days. There had been another reason. If her mother still survived, she would spend the rest of her life going after her daughter. Zonaton had no doubt about that. But as a geron, his chances of protecting Emmala would be almost nil. He would have to watch out for more attempts on his life, and possibly put Emmala in harm's way. Despite his strength and abilities, he'd learned how dangerous he was to her.

  Which was why his choice to become human made perfect sense. The humans would not suspect who he had been. With a little luck, he could keep the mother at bay, away from Emmala. Away from them. And in the event he was found out, the other gerons would protect him.

  Zonaton.

  The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up to see his old friend coming to land.

  "Akrim. It is good to see you."

  The geron peered closely at him, then nodded. Yes. Even in your new form, I can tell it is you. How is being human faring with you?

  Zonaton chuckled. He was pleasantly surprised to hear it rumble in his chest as it had when he was a geron. It is vastly different. Give me a few more days, then ask me again. Suddenly serious, he moved closer to the creature. "Akrim, have you—"

  You seek Emmala.

  "Yes. Have you seen her? Is she alive?"

  Yes. I spoke with her not too long ago.

  Sweet relief flooded him to the point where Zonaton had to sit down before his legs gave way. "She is alive. Is she well? Or was she injured in the attack?"

  As far as I could tell, she is physically unhurt, although she is emotionally distraught. She is consumed by your death.

  The geron allowed him a moment to come to grips with the news before continuing.

  Zonaton, she left for the mountains to return to the cave you shared, but I must warn you. The people who fled this village are incensed. They are angry beyond measure.

  Zonaton stared at the geron. "Why?"

  They believe we initiated the attack on the miners. They believe we drew the miners here to the village so that the humans would be caught in the middle of the battle.

  "That is untrue."

  I agree, and we have tried to
reason with the humans. Unfortunately, they will not listen.

  Akrim lifted his head and wings, and peered over his shoulder.

  At this moment the survivors are returning to the village. If they find us here, they will try to destroy us. You must go, Zonaton. Go back to the mountain. Go back to Emmala and live the life you chose with her. You must hurry and leave here. Come. Walking will be too slow. Get on my back, and I will fly you to your cave.

  Silently, Zonaton climbed on top of the big geron and grabbed the creature's neck folds for stability. He realized that this was what Emmala had grown up with, being in this position. Having this view from his back. He was getting a whole new perspective on what it was like to be a human in a geron world.

  Akrim jumped into the sky, circling the village once to afford Zonaton the chance to see the crowd of people advancing through the narrow roadway leading to the next village. A few walked through the fields bordering the road, defying geron law by not staying within the boundaries. Several people spotted the creature flying high above them, but Akrim was too far for their weapons to reach.

  Zonaton felt his friend's sadness as the creature banked and headed for the mountains.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Revelation

  Unable to get any kind of restful sleep, Emmala arose and left at dawn to go hunting, but she'd had no luck. It was a skill she would have to get better at if she wanted meat to eat. Zonaton had been the one to bring the majority of fresh kill to their cave, leaving her to scrounge for the plants and fruits she also liked. Fortunately, she managed to find a few pili-pili roots and leaves, which she brought back with her to the cave to cook.

  If truth be told, she was too inexperienced to hunt and too weary to eat. She was too exhausted to do anything except curl up on the pallet and sleep. When and if she finally managed to fall sleep, if she was lucky, she would never wake up again. If she was luckier, she would dream of Zonaton, and of all the moments in their lives that meant so much to her.

  Pausing outside the mouth of the cave, she stopped to stare out at the vista, and the way the sun's rays painted the inside of the mountain range in so many colors. No, there was nowhere else she would rather live. Nothing in the village could come close to the beauty of these mountains. Nothing in the village could coerce her to stay among people who hated who she was and what she'd done, despite the fact that she'd been only five years old when her life had been saved by one of the largest yet gentlest of creatures on this planet.

  I'd better get inside and prepare my dinner. The suns will be setting soon. If I remain out here much longer, I'm going to turn into another blubbering mess.

  She took four steps inside the dark cavern, when a sound came from the rear, near where the pool was located. Emmala stiffened with fear. She'd totally forgotten to check for intruders first. For creatures that would sometimes slither in to get out of the weather while she was away. Dangerous creatures. They were the reason why Zonaton always lit up the cave's interior and ensured it was safe before entering.

  The sound came again. A sliding sound. Definitely not the kind of noise made by falling rock or dirt.

  The noise drew closer. She turned around, ready to bolt and race back down the trail if she needed to. She lifted the backpack for protection, to shield herself, and took a single step backwards, when a soft, low voice echoed within.

  "Emmala?"

  Curiosity unhinged her jaw and gave her enough saliva to loosen her tongue.

  "Wh-what? Who's there?"

  "It's me, Emmala." The voice hesitated, as if it was about to say more but decided not to.

  "Come out here where I can see you," she demanded. Now that she was certain a deadly animal wasn't lurking inside, she felt more confident. But now her mind was filled with a hundred questions. Who was in the cave? It sounded like a man's voice, but none she'd ever heard before, or recognized. Had he been hiding out in here during the attack on the village? Or had he been waiting for her specifically?

  "Come out here," she ordered again, more sternly. "Come out where I can see you."

  Gradually, like a ghostly presence, the stranger walked into the sunlight where she could see him. She immediately knew the figure, although this was the first time she clearly saw his face.

  He looked worn out, but otherwise he had not changed from the last time she'd seen him. Or rather, dreamt of him.

  Emmala covered her mouth with one hand in shock. "No. You're not real."

  He smiled timidly. "I am real now." Holding out his arm, he gestured to her. "Here. Touch me."

  She started to, then backed off. "No. This is just another dream. It's just..." The implication hit her with the force of an avalanche. "If this is another dream, it means Zonaton is alive! He's giving me these dreams! He's alive! He's alive!” Her voice failed her as a huge invisible hand grabbed her lungs and squeezed them dry. Unable to believe, unable to hope it was true, she fell to her knees.

  "Zonaton! Zon! Where are you? Where are you?" She tried to see into the farthest corners of the chamber, but her vision was blurring over. Glancing again at the man, at her imaginary lover who had visited her so many times in the past because Zonaton had placed his image in her mind, she refused to try and make sense of it all. Her Zonaton was alive! How else could his presence be explained?

  "Zon! Zon!"

  "It is me, Emmala. I'm Zonaton!" He reached for her, but she waved him away.

  "No! No! I don't want you! I want my Zonaton! I want Zonaton!" The tears were back, blinding her with hope and joy. "Zon!" she yelled again, and the name bounced against the cave walls.

  The strange young man hurried over and dropped in front of her, clasping her shoulders and bending forward so his mouth was next to her ear.

  "I am Zonaton! It is me! I was given a second life, Emmala, and I chose this one. I chose this form. Yes, I am alive, and this is not a dream. "

  Slowly, she sat on her heels and looked up at him. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she stared at the face that had long eluded her. The features of her secret lover that had never been distinct. Never to the point where she could see individual strands of short, snowy white hair. Or the small scar above his left eyebrow, exactly where Zonaton had cut his forehead on a rock a couple of years ago.

  The stranger kneeling before her was real. His hands were warm. His eyes were...

  "Clear. Your eyes are clear, like..."

  "Like a geron's eyes?" He smiled, which seemed to surprise him. He touched the corners of his mouth with his fingers and gave a little chuckle. "So this is what it feels like."

  "When what feels like?"

  "To smile. To laugh." His eyes captured hers, and slowly they took on a golden hue. On Zonaton, his eyes always told her how he felt, but she especially loved the deep, sun-yellow color that showed her he cared about her. "It is difficult to smile when one has a rigid beak."

  Hesitantly, Emmala lifted a hand to touch his face, tracing the arch of his eyebrows with her fingertips. "Even your hair is that silvery white shade. The same color as you. Is this you? Really you?" she whispered.

  He pressed her palm to his cheek. "It is me, Emmala."

  "But...how?"

  "We have two life spans. The first as a geron. The second as an indistinct entity, unless we choose a different form."

  She frowned and tilted her head. "Why didn't you come back as a geron again?"

  "Many do," he admitted. "But I had another reason why I wanted to take this form."

  "What reason?"

  "You."

  She blinked, not wanting to believe that what he was telling her was true, yet knowing it was. He had come back in human form because of her.

  Emmala shook her head emphatically. "No. No. You're dead. I mean, Zonaton is dead. I saw him die. I saw you die!" She started to tear up again when the man lightly squeezed her hands.

  "You, as a human, you have one life. But do not believe all life forms follow the same pattern. My outer form was dead, but my essence
was not."

  "Heavens, you even sound like Zonaton. All preachy and philosophic," she commented, trying to sound sarcastic. She got another smile in reply, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "I thought you were dead. You died in my arms. I watched the other gerons carry your body away."

  "I did die. That life was over."

  "But people who die...it's forever." The memory of Zonaton's slow and agonizing demise while she held him in her arms filled her mind's eye. Her vision blurred once more. She sniffed, but the tears continued to sting. Neither could she stop her chin from trembling.

  "Emmala, your past, the world where your ancestors came from, that planet has many stories of rebirth, like your butterflies that once were caterpillars. Aside from plant and animal phenomena, your human history is filled with tales of reincarnation. Why would the natural evolution of my species seem impossible?"

  He wiped the tears from one cheek with his thumb. "During those years I tended to you, and raised you, and took care of you, I came to love you. Then, when you became a young woman, and you became restless for a similar soul, I created your dream lover to keep you happy." Biting his lips for a moment, Zonaton continued. "I thought, if I was to return to spend my second life with you, this form would be the most acceptable for you."

  He was worried. She could see it in his eyes, in the little crease in his forehead, in the soft pleading in his voice. At first, she'd thought she didn't know his voice, but now she realized she did. She always had. It was the voice she'd been hearing in her head all these years. A voice she'd felt in her heart. A voice that calmed her when she was afraid. A voice that lulled her to sleep when she was exhausted. The voice of her silvery dream lover. She just hadn't heard the voice with her ears.

  Zonaton lowered his gaze and made a move to get to his feet. Impulsively, she grabbed his face and kissed him. At first, he didn't respond. His hands found hers, but he didn't remove them. After several moments, she broke their connection to look at him and give him a small smile with her questioning look.