Plague of Mybyncia

by C. G. Coppola

  Reid exhales with a pause. “Not that I can feel any worse… but Walker gets to fucking touch you?”

  My words get caught in my throat. This is livid Reid. Is there any way to calm him? I think of the most honest and reassuring thing to say. “You know nothing’s going to happen.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Reid…”

  “I don’t…” he shakes his head, his hands high in the air. “If he touches you again, I might lose it. Honest to God, I might break his fucking neck.”

  “He knows I’m with you—I told him.”

  “That hasn’t stopped him before.”

  “Then put your trust in me,” I grip the trunk for balance, my leg starting to ache. “Nothing is going to happen. I don’t want it to, and I won’t let it.”

  Reid inhales, his eyes shifting between mine, trying to read their honesty. Am I telling him the truth? Can I make this promise? After a long silent minute, he nods. “I still don’t want him touching you.”

  “He won’t.”

  “He will.”

  “And I’ll tell him to stop. We have more important things to worry about. Please don’t let Walker be one of them.”

  “Fallon…” he runs his hands through his hair again. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know how to handle all this.”

  “You’ve led the Rogues into victory over the Kings and Vermix. You’ve kept everyone alive and helped keep order on Mybyncia,” I offer a reassuring smile. “You can do this.”

  “What if I can’t?” His eyes flicker over me, a large lump rolling down his throat. “What if I lose you?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Every time something happens,” he closes the gap between us, trailing his fingers down my cheek, “I have to watch you get hurt.”

  “That’s part of this life. If it wasn’t for Clarence, I’d be dead already. We just have to be thankful for the time we have together. Make the most of it.”

  He narrows his eyes, holding me in their powerful stare. “What happened?”

  “What?”

  “When you woke up to Clarence… what happened?”

  “I…” I step back as the sensation of being ripped open emerges. I don’t see Reid anymore, but what I walked into, what will forever be burned into my brain. “…I’m not sure,” my voice is a mere whisper. “I came home to… my grandmother was on the ground. She… something….” I gulp, “but before I could get out of the house…”

  Reid’s arms are suddenly wrapped around me, pressing my body to his and I’m drowning in his scent. It quickly wipes the horrific scene from memory, pinning me down here, in this wonderful present where I’m engulfed in him, completely protected. We stand embraced like this for a long minute until Able pokes his head past the red curtain.

  “You two alright? Tucker’s getting anxious and Sampson said no drama. We already kicked Perry out… please don’t make us do the same with Fallon. I haven’t seen my best bud in so long.”

  Reid tenses. “She’s not going anywhere,” he pulls me toward him and gripping one hand around my waist, he leads us back inside.

  “Good,” Able retreats to allow entrance into the suddenly tense space, “was getting worried there for a second.”

  “Ah…” Jace grins from the same spot on the red cushions. “See you’ve calmed him down, Fallon. Thanks.”

  Reid glances from me to Walker across the room, and just when I think he’s going to lose it, he calmly walks us over. Walker tenses at our approach but he doesn’t move.

  “Let’s get something straight,” Reid growls. “Fallon is with me. You touch her again, you die.”

  Walker glances at me, then back to Reid and around the room, as if waiting for someone to interject. No one does.

  “Understand?”

  “Rox…” Walker places his hands up in defense, backing further into the wall behind him. “I’m not going—”

  “Do. You. Understand?”

  “Yes,” he nods quickly. “I won’t touch her.”

  “Good.”

  But just as Reid starts to pull us back, Walker starts up again with a whimsical mumble to himself, “But if she asks me to…”

  Suddenly, Reid whips back and rams his free fist across Walker’s face, knocking him to his knees. “I’m not fucking around.”

  “Christ!” Walker wails, cupping his nose with both hands just as Sampson, Clarence and Vix return.

  “Reid!” Sampson rushes forward with a smirking Clarence right behind him. Vix pauses at the entrance, peering over the others who are all watching with similar shock.

  “It was overdue.”

  “No more,” Sampson puts himself between Walker and Reid, his words a tone of authority.

  “Not if he keeps his hands to himself.”

  “I think you broke it,” Walker mumbles into his palms as red liquid gushes through his fingers. He’s still on his knees and Clarence hoists him up by the elbows, crimson droplets falling to a tiny puddle at Walker’s feet.

  “Good.”

  “It’s done,” Sampson keeps them separate, a hand to each chest. “No more. Fallon,” Sampson looks at me. “Control this.”

  “Me? But how—”

  Before I’m able to ask how this is under my control, Clarence and Sampson lead Walker outside, a trail of blood behind them.

  I turn to Reid. “Was that really necessary?”

  “Yep,” he nods, perfectly serious. “Now he knows I mean it.”

  “He knew before.”

  “Now he won’t joke about it. And actually,” a smile crosses Reid’s lips, “I feel a lot better.”

  “Glad you got it out of your system?”

  “Where am I?” a soft voice asks.

  “Mae?” I whip around. “You’re awake!”

  With Pratt’s help, I move to the back of the room just as Jace jumps to a stand. Lying on the red cushions, one arm drapes over her forehead, her eyes blinking in slow motion, adjusting to the feeling.

  “Mae?” I ask again, sitting on the cushions next to her.

  “Where am I?”

  “We’re in Walker’s room—uh, home. We’ve… uh… been captured by the Zingfinolds.”

  “What?” her eyes shoot open as she starts to squirm uncontrollably.

  “You trying to scare her?” Able sits down next to me, shaking his head in disappointment. “Easy there,” he focuses on Mae, “you’re going to go into shock again. What Fallon meant to say is you’re fine and no one’s going to hurt you.”

  “Who are you?” her voice is soft.

  “My name’s Matthew… but you can call me Able.”

  Mae frowns, still trying to piece this together. “You’re human?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  Mae glances to Pratt and me. “There are other humans?”

  “You kind of blacked out on a lot. Here,” I take her hands in mine, “sit up, we’ll explain everything.”

  She allows me to pull her to a sitting position and once she’s situated with her back to the cushions, I being. In a long, continuous breath I explain what happened with Hozfin and finding the other Harrizel survivors and about the three tasks that Tucker will have to face tomorrow. When I’m done, Mae’s hands fly to her mouth.

  After a minute she drops them and turns to the Rogue Leader. “And you have to?”

  “It’s the only way to get the Nazual.”

  The curtain flaps open and Sampson, Clarence and Walker trickle in, the Fychu donning a hardened, irritated mask while Clarence tries to hide his smirk. Walker struggles with adjusting the new beige bandage across the bridge of his nose, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

  Clarence notices us all huddled in the corner around Mae. “Ah!” he grins, making his way over. “You’re awake. Nice to have you back.”

  She smiles in return, leaning toward me to whisper again, her sights focused on Walker, “Is that one of the other humans?”

  I nod.

  �
��What happened to him? Did the Zingfinolds do it?”

  Sampson flinches but Reid is grinning.

  “No, he… uh… had a little confrontation…” I glance at Reid. “But it’s fine because it’s not going to happen again.”

  “With who?”

  “Best we put it behind us,” Clarence smiles, “it’s a big day tomorrow and we need to get our rest. Especially you, young Rogue,” he places his hands on Tucker’s shoulders. “I have no doubt you’ll earn us the right to those Nazual flowers.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “And that’s all you’ll need. And all we can ask.”

  “If that’s it,” Sampson grates, still aggravated, “then let us get some sleep. It’s been a long day for all of us and we need our rest. Walker,” he glances around the room, focusing on the jars of oversized fireflies, “how do we dim their light?”

  “Drape the cloth over them.”

  Sampson reaches for the small pieces of dark fabric under the jars. He drapes them over like instructed and one by one, the light goes out, darkening the space to near blackness.

  We all find a place, the Rogues, Sampson and Clarence claiming the floor while Mae, Pratt, Vix and I take to the soft cushions toward the back. Walker is also on the red fabric, but on the opposite side of the space, as far from me as possible. Even with the lights out and all of us getting comfortable in our positions, sleep is the last thing I want. Too much has happened. This day, from beginning to end, has seemed like forever.

  I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.

  ***

  “Why now?” Helen asks, tugging on her red bandanna. Her hand shakes as she brings the cigarette back to her mouth and inhales, a cloud of smoke rising as she pulls away.

  “You are of age,” Granny Ruth explains. “At twenty-five, you’re able to protect yourself mentally. Before now… if you were exposed to the truth…you would be vulnerable.”

  “You wouldn’t have the strength or knowledge to block out intruders,” the man adds, his familiar mouth frowning, “your inexperience would lead them straight to you.”

  “Who?”

  “The others...”

  “Why is that bad? If they’re like you…”

  “They’re not. There are some who wish to do you harm.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of me. Because… I am to blame.”

  They fade as the silver eyes take over everything, white flowing hair billowing around her face. She encompasses everything, all light shining through her, her mouth still as her voice rings, “You must awake now, Fallon.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “You must open your eyes. Awake and see the truth.”

  “What truth?” my voice echoes around us, but she is all I can see, all that is here.

  “Awake now… Awake and see the truth…”

  “Come on,” Clarence is shaking my shoulder. “Time to get up.”

  I peer past him, expecting to see the same golden-pink coral, but I find a wooden ceiling instead. Confusion rushes until I remember everything from yesterday, and that I’m in Walker’s home, on Nerwolix. Wiping my eye with the heel of my hand, I focus on the tiny cracks in the tree trunk where a dark sky appears. It must be early— really early—and I’m still utterly exhausted. I almost don’t recognize my own voice through a yawn, “…It’s still dark outside.”

  “The Zingfinolds like to start early. Come on, rise and shine,” he rustles Pratt and Mae awake with a gentle shake of their shoulders. “Big day.”

  Pratt smacks her mouth while Mae’s arms shoot into a full body stretch, a long, sleepy murmur escaping. Sampson and most of the boys are already up moving but Reid is still attempting to rouse Werzo and Jace from their comas. I sit up as Walker walks past without a word, uncovering the jars of fireflies, the room quickly brightening.

  My leg feels much better—it might even be completely back to normal. Encouraged by this, I move to a stand but as I do so, my arms jet out and I stumble from being off-balance. Reid flies forward, catching me before I fall back. “You got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How does it feel?” he glances down to my leg.

  “Better. Almost healed.”

  “She’ll probably be able to walk on it unassisted by day’s end,” Sampson nods. “It’s not too bad, actually.”

  “So what happens at the end of the day?” Pratt looks between Walker, Sampson and Clarence. But both Dofinikes focus on Walker, just as interested in knowing as Pratt.

  “Celebration. Food and drinks. Dancing,” he shrugs. “That’s about it.”

  “I’m going to need you to pass these tasks,” Jace cups Tucker on the shoulders. “I think we all could use a little celebrating.”

  “Find a tribes girl you like?” Pratt grins.

  “A few…” Jace scratches his chin, “but uh, we’ll see tonight…”

  “We need to head down,” Walker says curtly, moving past the red curtain. Everyone follows but Reid throws his arm around my hip, pressing me to him.

  “Ready?”

  I nod and together we trail outside behind the others.

  The sun is just starting to come up, illuminating this tree-top city and setting a glow to the strange lime-green, tear-drop shaped leaves that hang in different degrees. Some fall low, almost to the ground while others keep close to their top branches, the majority suspended between. The leaves themselves are large—as big as my head, some bigger—but they hang on narrow rope-like suspensions which match the same vibrant green hue. Between them, zigzagging from top to bottom and in all possible directions, are the enormous branches, hollowed and carved to serve as bridged stairwells.

  Walker leads us down two more of these wooden passages until we come to a narrower tree, not large enough to be anyone’s home. Five of the carved branches lead to it from all separate directions.

  “This is a post—it’s one of the main ways to access the ground. There are posts like this one all over the city,” Walker looks to Sampson and Clarence. “Pretty sure this is what you used yesterday, right?”

  Both nod.

  “We could also go by lift, like I took Fallon…” he starts but before he can say something, he shakes his head and changes his mind. “Let’s go.”

  Opening up a side hatch, Walker disappears inside the trunk and the rest of the group follows quickly. By the time Reid and I approach, I look into the hollowed trunk and find a very deep winding stairwell literally carved into the tree’s center. It doesn’t seem wide enough to fit two people per step, but Reid refuses to let go of my hip.

  “Come on…”

  Together we struggle down the stairwell and after a few minutes, finally reach the ground with the others.

  “This way,” Walker starts weaving through the thick trunks and we all trail after in complete silence. We pass the hanging leaves, swerving in and out of their different heights, a quiet stampede of anxious, hesitant footsteps pounding on the forest ground. After a bit, the trees gradually thin out and soon, they form an enormous misshapen circle. Walker has led us to a wide clearing and pauses with Tucker in the center. “Here.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” Pratt asks.

  “They’re here.”

  One by one the Zingfinolds drop from the trees around us. With narrowed, challenging eyes, most tribesmen possess a height similar to Warze, towering at seven or eight feet, while the younger tribesmen stand with an equally solid stature of five to six feet. All immensely furry, they sport a range of hair—from dark brown to mustard yellow all the way up to an aged gray and some, a stark, bright white. They’re clothed in the same black and beige animal hide that hangs from their hips to their knees, while the females don an extra wrap around their torso.

  The Zingfinolds gather inward, creating a massive circle that runs the perimeter of the clearing. Walker remains with Tucker in the center.

  Able joins my right side, motioning toward a herd of young tribesmen. “Look.”

  Perry m
oves in the center, shoulders back and confident with a wicked smile in place. It’s as if she’s on her way to witness a public execution and seems excited about it.

  “Popular, I see.”

  “For some unknown reason,” Able shakes his head.

  The rest of the Rogues fan out on either side of us, except for Reid, who is walking with Sampson toward Tucker in the center of the clearing. They’re only there for a quick moment, exchanging a few words before they retreat back, leaving Tucker and Walker alone. A low chatter of voices exchange, from the Dofinikes and Rogues to the Zingfinold tribesmen but then, almost eerily, everyone simultaneously silences.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper to Able.

  “Hozfin’s arrived.”

  I scan the crowd, looking for him but don’t find anyone to match his resemblance. “Where?”

  Able glances around, gesturing up ahead. “There.”

  The crowd parts on the opposite side of the enlarged circle, revealing the Zingfinold King. He’s in the same red and black hide from yesterday, a crown of twigs and red and blue berries resting atop his silver-brown head. Warze joins his side, both scanning the lot with a fierce, intimidating scowl. Finally, they rest their sights on Tucker and Walker in the middle, King Hozfin breathing deep in his chest. He nods at Warze who moves into the center to join the duo.

  In a booming voice, Warze addresses Tucker so that everyone can hear. “Strangers no stay with Zingfinolds. Three tasks need complete to stay. Today, Tucker proves himself tribesman… or proves himself dead.”

  Walker whispers something to him and Tucker merely nods.

  Warze turns to face the hushed circle. “Is volunteer to duel Tucker?”

  “Is it a fight to the death?” I whisper to Able.

  “It’s supposed to be…”

  “Any weapons?” I ask.

  “Nope. Just hands.”

  A tremor of fear runs through me as I try to place myself in Tucker’s shoes. What is he thinking right now? Is he focused on the Nazual, or trying to strategize his attack?

  A solid minute passes and I don’t think anyone’s going to volunteer until one of the tribesmen grouped behind Perry steps forward. He’s younger, with much less fur, and the little he does have is dark, almost jet-black. Even for his youth, his body is hard, shaped similarly to the others but his eyes, like the rest, shine bright blue. “Volunteer.”