The Paths Between Worlds

by Paul Antony Jones

  “So, then it could be aliens.”

  Chou smiled slightly, “Yes, Phillip, I suppose it could be aliens.”

  Her acceptance of the possibility was enough of a victory for Phillip. He quietened and went back to staring into the campfire.

  “But why would they bring us here? And where on Earth is here exactly?” I said.

  “How do you know we’re on Earth?” Albert said quietly as if the question might get him into trouble.

  We all stared at him.

  It hadn’t even crossed my mind that whatever intelligence had transported us through time might also have the ability to move us through space, too. And judging by the look on Phillip and Chou’s faces, neither had they.

  “That is a very astute observation,” said Chou. She flashed him one of her smiles, and he instantly beamed with pride. “And one I should have thought of, considering how far away from Earth I was at the time of my… translocation. You are correct, Albert. Currently, we have no way of ascertaining exactly where we are. The storm and the forest canopy have obscured our view of the sky; hopefully, when we reach the mountain, I will have a clear view of the stars and be able to make a judgment as to our location.”

  Chou got to her feet and stepped closer to the trunk of the tree we sheltered beneath. She ran her fingers over its crenelated bark.

  “Having said that, this tree appears to be an oak. And as you have already pointed out, Albert, the forest is full of trees and animals that originated on Earth. That data alone suggests that we are still on earth.”

  “But,” said Albert, apparently unwilling to let go of his position within the discussion, “couldn’t the…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…couldn’t the force that brought us here also have brought the trees and animals too?”

  Phillip nodded, enthusiastically.

  Chou remained unconvinced. “Again, the amount of energy required to bring just us here would be—”

  “And yet, here we are,” I said, interrupting her.

  Chou turned to me, the edges of her mouth betraying a slight smile. “Yes, Meredith, here we all are, indeed.”

  “If our assumptions are correct,” Chou continued, “and we were brought here for a reason, I would expect there to be some form of sustenance easily accessible to us. But, I would also have anticipated a more… welcoming arrival. It does not make sense for us to be dropped here with no access to food or water or shelter.”

  I leaned forward. “But if whoever’s controlling all of this really had our best interests at heart, why drop us so far offshore of the island? I saw at least one person drown.”

  Chou pondered the question. “I do not know,” she said eventually. “As I have already stated, I would have expected a more accommodating reception on our arrival. However, I do agree that it does run contrary to the theory that there is a structured plan behind all of this.”

  Albert spoke up again. This time his voice was quiet, frightened. “Maybe we aren’t really alive,” he said. “Maybe we are all dead, and this is hell.”

  “Do you see any demons, kid?” said Phillip, sarcastically.

  “Well… well, maybe this is purgatory, then. Hot tears began to fall down the kid’s cheeks.

  I put my arm back around Albert’s shoulders and pulled him closer to me again. “It’s okay, kid.”

  Chou continued. “I do not believe that this place is either ‘hell’ or ‘purgatory.’ While whatever or whoever is behind these events has what we would conclude to be god-like powers, that does not mean that they are a god. No, I am confident that the explanation for this lies somewhere other than ancient extinct religions.”

  Albert seemed unsure of what to say to that, so I said, “Hey, listen. Why don’t you tell us about how you got here? Can you do that?”

  The boy looked up at me, his eyes, glassy, distant. “There was a fire at my boarding school,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I was trapped in my room, and I couldn’t get out. And the fire got closer and closer, then—”

  Before Albert could finish his sentence, Chou jumped to her feet. “Quiet!” she hissed.

  “What’s happening?” Albert whispered.

  I answered by pulling him closer to me. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly erect.

  “Something’s not right,” said Chou, rising slowly to her feet.

  She was correct; the forest had fallen suddenly and completely silent.

  Phillip started to say something then his mouth sprung shut with an audible cracking of teeth as somewhere nearby, the same terrifying snarl we had heard the night before bellowed from out of the darkness.

  “It’s close,” Phillip said, slowly turning on his heels.

  “Look out!” I screamed, as a shadow suddenly exploded from the greater darkness and catapulted itself at Chou. I kicked my heels into the ground, pushing myself backward, dragging Albert with me by the collar of his shirt.

  In what seemed like slow-motion and with the kind of high-definition detail only a mind drenched with adrenaline and fear could coolly observe, I watched a huge creature, all fangs and claws, leap over the fire.

  I estimated Phillip was at least six feet tall, probably closer to six-two or six-three. This thing was three-feet longer than him, and that didn’t even take into account its tail. It resembled a tiger with the same orangish coloring as tigers I’d seen on a visit to the LA Zoo, but its fur was longer, more like a Husky’s, as though it had evolved to live in colder climates. Its fur was covered in black stripes and mottled with black and brown patches, similar to a leopard’s. Its paws were as big as Chou’s head, and the four toes on each foot ended in a claw that I had no doubt could rip us open like we were nothing more than a wet paper bag. And its head… its head was huge. Spittle flecked from between the gaping jaws, which looked more than capable of swallowing all four of our heads at once. Its eyes burned with a merciless intensity and the cold cunning intelligence of an apex predator. But it was the two huge incisors that curved downward from its upper jaw to below its lower jaw that really set it apart from any other big cat I’d ever seen.

  If the tiger-thing had aimed for anyone else but Chou, it would have easily sunk those teeth and claws into its intended victim and carried them off into the night.

  Chou, however, was something else entirely.

  She leaped right, her cloak billowing around her as a monstrous paw swooped through the empty space she had momentarily occupied. The tiger-thing hit the ground, kicking up leaves. It turned to look back at us, yellow eyes flashing in the firelight, snarling as it repositioned itself to face us.

  I felt Albert’s grip on me tighten. The boy was attached to my side as though he were a new limb, his arms wrapped around my waist. I looked down. He was pale as a ghost, his eyes fixed on the tiger-thing. He whispered something, over and over.

  I leaned down to hear him.

  “Smilodon’s are thought to have had excellent night vision and to be able to see up to six times better than humans. They could grow to weigh up to eight-hundred pounds or more,” he mumbled, the words coming out so fast I could barely process them. “Popularly known as a sabre-tooth tiger, the smilodon is not truly related to any modern big cat and evolved from a separate genus.” He was obviously reciting the words directly from memory, perhaps as some kind of nervous reaction.

  “Shhh!” I whispered and placed my hand gently over the boy’s mouth.

  Phillip seemed stunned, his limbs frozen in mid-motion, trapped by the hypnotic, monstrous eyes of the big cat. He too was mumbling something under his breath, and I strained to catch what it was: “Good kitty. Nice kitty,” he whispered over and over.

  The monstrous cat seemed conflicted. It had four targets to choose from and seemed quite happy to take its time in deciding which of us it was going to make a meal of first.

  Chou seized on its indecision and reached blindly for one of the spears Albert had made earlier, lying close to the fire, her eyes never leaving the creature. Her
fingers found the spear’s shaft, and she dragged it to her. The weapon looked almost comically toy-like compared to the thousand-pounds of muscle, sinew, claws, and teeth she was facing down. But there was nothing childlike about the pose Chou struck, placing herself directly between us and the tiger… between us and the sabre-tooth freaking tiger. She crouched low, her feet set in a wide stance, the spear thrust out in front of her.

  Chou took a step toward the tiger. Then another. And another.

  The sabre-tooth squared its body to Chou and roared, its mouth so wide I saw past the rows of teeth into its black maw.

  Chou appeared unfazed. She advanced another step then thrust the spear at the sabre-tooth’s head. It batted at it with one of its huge paws, but Chou was too quick for it. She dropped the tip of the spear then thrust upward just as the cat’s paw passed above it.

  The sabre-tooth yelped in pain and surprise as the hardened tip of the spear penetrated the paw. Blood dripped from the puncture wound, but rather than dissuade it Chou’s attack only seemed to enrage it. Its attention now fully focused on Chou, the giant cat lunged forward, trying to snag the spear in its bear-trap jaws. Again, Chou’s reactions were faster, she pulled the spear back so the sabre-tooth’s jaws locked on empty space, then thrust forward with a deep lunge, aiming for the cat’s left eye. But the sabre-tooth anticipated the attack, it dodged its head to the right, avoiding being blinded but not fast enough to completely avoid injury. The hardened tip penetrated its left ear, pushing all the way through to the other side of it.

  The saber-tooth bellowed, wrenching its head away which caused the spear to rip through its ear, slicing it open in the process, leaving a ragged bloody tear. Now the creature roared in real pain.

  “I think you’re just pissing it off,” Phillip hissed. He was moving again and had grabbed his own spear which he now held out in front of him like Chou. He swallowed hard and moved quickly to Chou’s side.

  The sabre-tooth took a step backward. Its eyes had lost some of their confidence. It batted at its head, then backed up another step. Perhaps it was the injured ear, or maybe it was the fact that there were now two of these pesky two-legged creatures willing to do it harm; either way, the promise of an easy meal had turned out to be a lie, and I saw the confidence leave its eyes.

  “Yahhhhh!” Phillip suddenly screamed. He leaped forward, thrusting the point of his spear ahead of him in quick short jabs.

  Chou jerked, almost as surprised as the sabre-tooth at Phillip’s strategy… but it worked. With a final snarl, the cat turned and leaped behind a tree, then sprinted away.

  Phillip, panting hard, watched it disappear into the darkness.

  Silence descended again over the camp.

  The buzz and drone of the forest’s nightlife slowly returned.

  Phillip slumped onto his butt, buried the tip of his spear into the ground, wrapped his hands around its shaft and leaned his forehead against his knuckles. “Jesus! Did we really survive that… that…”

  “Smilodon,” said Albert, peeking from behind my midriff.

  “Sabre-toothed tiger,” I said, then repeated it, more to convince myself than anyone else. If there had been any doubt in my mind up to then that we were somewhere very, very strange, the past four minutes had completely removed it. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in minor nicks, cuts, and grazes from pushing through bushes and climbing over trees, but they weren’t shaking. Which also surprised me, because inside I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair store.

  Chou took a knee in front of Phillip. “Are you hurt?”

  He looked up and, surprisingly, smiled. “No, no. I’m fine. As stupid as it sounds, I actually feel more alive than I have in forever.”

  Chou smiled back and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You were very brave,” she said.

  Phillip released one hand from his spear and covered Chou’s with it. “I wouldn’t go that far, but thank you.” He glanced in my direction. “Are you and the boy okay?”

  “I’m good,” I said and looked down at Albert. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was releasing me from his death grip. He took a step away from me, then one toward Chou and Phillip.

  “You alright, kiddo?” Phillip asked.

  Albert nodded. “That was frightening.”

  “Yes, yes it was,” said Phillip.

  “Will it come back?” Albert asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Chou. “I think it has learned its les—”

  Before Chou could finish the forest lit up like a Christmas tree, as streams of multicolored light rained down through the canopy, soaking everything in color.

  “It’s happening again,” said Albert, the sabre-tooth forgotten already as the aurora illuminated the forest.

  “My God,” Phillip said, experiencing the aurora for the first time. He used the spear to push himself to his feet. “It’s so beautiful.” He glanced back at me and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” Then he gave a little twitch as a billion tiny white lights sparked into life around us.

  “The pixie dust,” I whispered, reaching for a cloud of the tiny motes of light floating in front of my face. I wasn’t afraid this time, only a little nervous. I forced myself to breathe in deeply and sucked in the cloud of light.

  “Everything’s covered in it,” Phillip said. “The trees, the grass, everything. Why can’t we see them any other time?”

  Before anyone could answer, all four of us gave a little shudder. A feeling of absolute well-being spread through my body, and, judging by the expression of pleasure on my companions’ faces, they were experiencing the same sublime sensation of deep relaxation too. As it washed through me, I felt the day’s aches and pains and stress drain from me.

  “Woah!” Phillip giggled. He staggered a little. “That’s some good shit!”

  And then, just as it had the night before, the lights in the sky faded to nothing, and the pixie dust dimmed into invisibility again.

  “Wow!” said Phillip. “I feel… great. Absolutely invigorated.” He sounded stoned. “What the hell are those things?”

  Chou said, “I believe that the lights Meredith refers to as pixie dust are a form of highly advanced nanotechnology. Are you familiar with nano-tech?”

  “Yeah, it’s like little-robots that can be used to repair stuff, right?” I said.

  “Yes, that approximates their use, I suppose.” Chou moved her hand through the air as if she could still see the particles I knew must still be floating invisibly all around us. “In my time, the healing of minor wounds can be accelerated over the course of a matter of days; broken bones, such as your arm, are healed and fully functional again in a week to nine days.” She turned her attention to Phillip. “Last night, while you were unconscious, we witnessed the healing of your broken arm and head wound in a matter of seconds.”

  “Look,” I said, holding my hands out and turning them slowly so everyone could see where the scratches and grazes I’d accumulated over the course of our journey had vanished, completely healed, leaving only fresh, pink skin behind and a fading warmth. “It’s amazing. Like magic.” After a second, I added, “Last night, I think the aurora cured my addiction, too.”

  “It is impressive,” Chou said, inspecting her own hands in the glow of the firelight.

  “Do you think it’s going to happen every night?” Phillip asked.

  “Perhaps,” Chou replied. “Two nights does not establish a pattern, but it could be the beginning of one.”

  “Okay,” said Phillip. “I follow this nano-tech can heal us, kind of, but how does it explain how we can understand you, Chou? I mean, it’s not like language is something that can just be fixed like a cut, right?”

  Chou paused briefly. “I believe that the nano-tech also rewired our brains to be able to understand each other’s language. We have been augmented so as to be able to communicate with one another, which indicates to me that we will be expected to cooperate. However, it does not make who is responsible any cleare
r to me.”

  I said, “But I thought nano-tech was supposed to be like really tiny? What I saw looked like it was the size of a pin-head. Shouldn’t they be invisible to the human eye?”

  “Yes, you are correct, but I think the lights represent bundles of nanites, grouped together for efficiency.”

  “Bundles? But doesn’t that defeat the idea behind nano-sized technology?” Phillip asked. “I mean, these little mechanisms are microscopic for a reason, right?”

  “Yes, under controlled conditions and certain applications small would be desirable, or if the nanites were to be, say, swallowed to aid in curing an illness you could keep them at their normal size. However, it would appear that this island is supersaturated with the nanites, and, like anything that exists in the wild, there is much to be gained from roaming as a pack; efficiency and survivability being the two most obvious. All it would take would be for you to swallow a single bundle and you would be ‘infected,’ so to speak. The nanites can then utilize your body to replicate.”

  “Wild nanites?” Phillip said. “Roaming bands of do-gooder robots that heal us and change our brains. Sounds great on the surface, I guess, but our permission wasn’t asked for any of these changes, and until I know who’s behind all of this, I would never have said ‘yes’ to any of it.”

  “Except you already did,” Chou said.

  I nodded my agreement with her. “She’s right. The voice was very specific when it spoke to me. I got the impression it wouldn’t do a thing to help me until I answered ‘yes’ to its question. So, technically, you did give it permission.”

  Phillip nodded slowly, “I guess I did, too, except none of us were told up front what we were getting ourselves in to.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” I said. “And think about the alternative.”

  Chou continued, “I presume we have been breathing in bundles since we first arrived here. The energy storm that we have witnessed for the last two nights… the aurora as you named it… is probably a way to energize the bundles and provide the nanites with the power they need to carry out their tasks. Although, it does seem like a massively inefficient way to go about it.”