The Gift of Volkeye

by Marque Strickland

  Bahzee kept quiet and waited, wiping the tears from her eyes in the mean time, because she didn’t want to look like a big baby when she and her rescuer were finally face-to-face.

  “There, got it.”

  Bahzee sighed with relief as she felt her chair begin to glide away from the bushes. When she was about five feet out, she swung the chair around to greet him. When their eyes met, Bahzee immediately looked down in shame, for she hadn’t counted on being rescued by someone so easy on the eyes. Here she was an ugly cripple, who just had to be rescued by him! How embarrassing!

  “Thank you, kind sir…I have to get going,” she said shamefully.

  “No, wait…you’re new? I haven’t seen you around.”

  “Yes. My mother and I have only been here a few months,” she replied, trying to avoid eye contact.

  However, this didn’t work. The boy walked right up to her and leaned over, meeting eyes with his new neighbour.

  “My name’s Teshunua. The ‘nuh’ at the end isn’t spelled like it sounds. It’s N-U-A, but people always screw it up trying to pronounce all the letters!” He laughed. “I don’t have a last name, because my father hated his family and got rid of it.”

  Bahzee extended her hooked, claw-like hand as much as her crippled body would allow her to. Teshunua reached out to her. They shook.

  “Bahzee Sunkharei.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Baz. Is it okay if I call you that?”

  “Sure. My mommy does it too…I kinda’ like it,” Bahzee said, finally managing to smile.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Teshunua said something completely unexpected.

  “You have beautiful eyes…”

  Bahzee was too shocked to even thank him. She just gazed at him, searching for dishonesty.

  Teshunua continued.

  “…like the colour of the ocean. I love water. That’s what’s most fun about exploring—the lakes, rivers, and oceans that I find. I swear, I can sit and stare at them for hours. You should look people in the eye more often when you talk, Bahzee. It would be a shame for anyone to miss out on such beauty.”

  Bahzee kept quiet for some time, expecting him to burst out in laughter, like most boys would have, for she just knew that he couldn’t be serious. With each moment that passed, she felt more stupid for not responding.

  And why was he still holding her hand?

  It was strange for her, due to the fact that she had never had such close physical contact with anyone besides her mother or Nhad. She was quite used to kisses and hugs from them.

  This, however, was different, and though it was much more formal than a hug or kiss, it still exuded sincerity and affection that Bahzee wasn’t used to coming from a stranger. Teshunua was just very direct in his nature. However, from Bahzee’s reaction to what he’d said, he immediately learned to be reserved with the things that came out of his mouth around her, especially when she seemed to be so…

  …insecure?

  Teshunua was perplexed, having no idea why she was that way. Crippled or not, he didn’t think that he had ever before seen a girl so pretty.

  “Thank you,” Bahzee finally replied, face reddening. Teshunua let go of her hand.

  “So why do you have wheels, Bahzee?”

  “What?” she asked, confused, but still blushing.

  “Your chair…it hovers, so why do you need wheels?” he said, changing the subject, but sounding as unnatural and corny as a third grader with a crush on a teacher.

  “I like to use the wheels, because I would constantly be knocking things over in the house if I didn’t.”

  “Oh,” he said, tapping his foot on the cold earth, trying to think of something else to say. “So would you like to see where I live?” He hoped that Bahzee felt comfortable enough for that.

  “Yes…” She hesitated. “There’s not going to be anyone there besides your parents, is there?”

  “There won’t be anyone there at all...I live by myself.”

  “How is that possible? You’re only, what...a year or two older than me, at most? How do you live by yourself?”

  “It’s a long story. Anyway, why don’t you want people to be there?”

  “Who in their right mind would want to look at something so depressing, silly? I’m crippled!” she spat irritably.

  “Oh…you’re crippled? That’s funny, I didn’t even notice,” Teshunua said, regaining his confidence.

  Bahzee sunk in her chair and blushed again.

  3

  Teshunua’s home, one in ninety cottages, out of which several were unoccupied, was quite eccentric. First off, it rested on top of a hill while the rest of Rhameeryla lay fifty feet beneath it. The construction of all the town’s homes was unique, of course, but his was much larger and aesthetically pleasing than the others.

  It was made of gigantic bricks, which went from a warm gray to a rusty red in colour, glazed over to give them a shiny, non-scratch surface. There was a large fireplace on the wall in the main room, which was lavishly decorated, bordered with a white marble mantelpiece. To the left of the fireplace was a huge wall, made entirely of thick, stormproof glass, giving a marvelous view of Rhameeryla and its surroundings.

  Bahzee gazed in awe while observing.

  Anyone familiar with Teshunua’s relationship with his ‘uncle’ (as he called him) would have known that all these luxuries were exemplary of Zynathian’s fondness of Teshunua. The other cottages were sturdy and efficient, but definitely not plush like this.

  Every room contained knickknacks and sentimental treasures that Teshunua acquired on his travels. There were bones of many strange creatures, which he had placed on stands like sculptures. He had grains of sand, earth, and rocks in clear glass cylinders, lining the windowsills. Also, the walls in his bedroom were covered in photographs. Bahzee thought that there may have been hundreds of images, for there wasn’t a clear spot.

  “You like the pictures?”

  “Very much…did you take these?”

  Artistic people intrigued Bahzee, especially since she, herself, didn’t have one creative bone in her body.

  “I take them on my voyages. I’ve been traveling periodically for a couple of years now. My father’s death was tragic, but also liberating in a strange sense. Having no one to take care of me, I began wandering and learned to survive on my own. That’s how I came to love exploration.”

  He paused, noticing the way her head leaned oddly off to the left, appearing to be too heavy for a weak neck…but still, it was a beautiful lean. Bahzee’s slouching head gave an unobstructed view of a long neck and an unblemished face that, in his eyes, shed the same radiance as an oil painting. With each moment that passed, Teshunua began to feel that everything about her was beautiful—even her insecurity.

  “My mom is an artist, too.”

  “Really? …I would love to meet her!”

  “Any time, Tesh,” Bahzee said, quite pleased that he wanted to meet her mother.

  ‘Tesh’…I like that! We must be friends now!

  “I can’t wait…she’s not shy, is she?” he said holding up a small round object.

  “Is that a camera? No way! I’ve never seen one that small! What’s its range?”

  Teshunua handed her the camera, and Bahzee rolled out to the wall window in the main room. As she held the camera to her eye, it did a retinal scan and automatically adjusted to her vision. She then aimed it at the farthest thing in the distance, which was Mune Ju Mountain.

  It zoomed out so quickly that for a moment Bahzee had no clue what she was looking at, and then she realized that she could see no longer see the surrounding sky, but cracks and crevices in the mountain rock! Not a detail was amiss. In fact, the view was so clear that, in certain pockets, she could even see gusts of wind throw the snow violently back and forth in the fashion of miniature blizzards.

  “You like it? My uncle designed it for me. It has a voice chip, video mode, and can send images or things I’ve filmed over insane dis
tances. I took me a year to master all of its features!” He laughed. “My home is done by Uncle’s hand as well…”

  Bahzee wheeled around, looking quite puzzled as Teshunua went on.

  “…this entire town is his. Oh, and you haven’t met my pet, Jix, yet! Uncle genetically engineered him, so that I’d have some company on my travels!”

  “I’ve never heard of anyone with such talent! Who is your uncle?”

  4

  “Aaaaahhh, son of a bitch! You broke my nose!” A tall blond boy yowled, leaning on a tree to keep his balance. Blood ran over his mouth and down his chin, spattering the grass beneath him. His eyes watered heavily and began to tear as he slumped to the earth.

  Five feet away from this nearly unconscious boy, a whirlwind of kicks and punches were thrown. A tall, dark skinned male was rolling around in the grass, brawling with thieves, who’d just tried to take something extremely precious from him.

  “Give back my camera!”

  He was a vagrant, who’d lost his father to violence, two years previous. The boy made his way in the world by selling prints made from an old solar activated camera that his father had bought for him at the Mune Ju flee market. Not quite having gotten over his father’s death, he was furious that these four bullying thieves were trying to take this familial memorabilia.

  His father was a boxer and had taught him how to handle himself, so therefore he was extremely rough around the edges when pushed too far. He would beat these thieving brats within an inch of their lives if necessary…and God forbid his camera should actually be broken when he retrieved it!

  “We wanna’ borrow it, stingy!” said a pale, skinny boy with pimples and a unibrow.

  “It’s not yours!”

  The homeless wanderer got one of the thieves on their back, stood up and then brought his boot down on the boy’s face. There was a loud crunch as the heel obliterated the robber’s mouth. The boy rolled over on his side and spewed what seemed to be a pint of blood. The long blades of grass glowed scarlet underneath the setting sun.

  Tiny chunks of gum remained on the bottom of the homeless boy’s boot as he turned to face the remaining two. One of them sat the camera in the grass so gently that it was clear he didn’t want to fight. However, he still turned around with his fists raised.

  “Why? Are you stupid? I swear on my father’s name, I’ll kill you if it’s necessary! Walk away from this while you still can!”

  The third robber appeared to be considering the wanderer’s offer, but his thoughts were interrupted.

  “If you don’t ‘man up’ right now, I’ll tell my father that you chickened and ran!” the boy with the unibrow spat.

  The weakling obeyed the command of his superior. He started in with his fists clenched, and the vagrant shook his head with disgust.

  Oh well, I warned you! he thought.

  When the boy was close enough to him, he leapt and came down on his knee.

  The child wailed, as he slumped to the ground with his leg bent at a ninety-degree angle in the wrong direction. The backside of his pant leg had gone a deep red, for his bones had poked through the skin. He fainted a few seconds later.

  The homeless one turned to finish the job and saw that the unibrow boy had picked up his camera and taken off running. He darted after him.

  The beginning of the chase was difficult, as the grass was over two feet long and wet from rain. However, they were now moving from the large open pastures directly into the Mashyuvian Forest.

  (Little did the boys know, a man that had spotted them outside of the Mune Ju Market earlier was watching them closely from behind. It was the unibrow that had called this man’s attention. Not that there weren’t others carrying such a distinct feature, but this particular child had the make of someone whom he didn’t care to meet face-to-face ever again…as he feared that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from killing this man.

  The unibrow roused his curiosity so much to the point where he just couldn’t resist following the ruffians.)

  Upon entering the forest, the wanderer hadn’t tired, jumping over rocks and clearing large gaps with the ease of a gymnast. The thief, however, who was slowing with each passing second, suddenly threw the camera aside, hoping the boy would let him be. However, he didn’t notice that the camera had landed on a jagged rock and shattered into about twenty pieces.

  The other boy’s heart sank, eyes ablaze with fury. When the thief stumbled over a tree root, and he finally caught up to him, his face was streaming with tears.

  The thief tried to plead his case. “I…just wanted…to borrow it, you stingy ass!” he lied.

  The vagrant seemed to not have heard him. He sobbed as he lifted the thief to his feet. “You broke it!”

  There was no hesitation. He leaned the thief’s body over a large tree stump and sat atop of him, proceeding to commit what would’ve been his first murder. He began to pummel him.

  Momentarily oblivious to pain, the boy was hitting him so hard that he didn’t notice two of his fingers were broken. Nor could you see the pretty black skin on his hands any longer, for his fists were covered in blood. At present, this was not the boy with a face that would be so admired by a certain girl in a couple years to come. Wild-eyed and furious, he looked like a raving savage.

  The thief’s face bled profusely from the cuts and gashes where the boy’s knuckles had dug into his skin. Had the thief been conscious to see how much blood he was losing, he might’ve panicked. However, it was just as well that he wasn’t awake, because he wouldn’t have been able to see a thing anyway. His eyes were swollen shut!

  Any other person would’ve had mercy at this point, but the boy couldn’t bring himself to stop hitting the thief. Suddenly two strong arms wrapped themselves around the homeless boy, pulling him away.

  “He broke it!” he cried furiously.

  Whoever was behind held him tightly but in a grip that wasn’t the slightest bit malicious. The person whispered in his ear.

  “Stop. It’s not worth it. Don’t become a murderer for the likes of him,” the man said, gently setting him on the ground.

  The boy obeyed and wiped his eyes. He watched the man walk over to the thief and dig inside a backpack, pulling out…

  …Doctor’s tools?

  The man removed a small silver blade from one pocket and leaned over the limp body of the beaten boy, putting a deep slit above each eyelid. Blood flowed from the openings and ran down each side of his face, drenching his T-shirt.

  Once the wounds stopped bleeding, the man took a cotton swab from his pocket and spread a blue paste across it. He rubbed it over each cut and watched them sizzle as they cauterized.

  The limp boy began squirming a bit.

  At least when the demon-bred son of a bitch comes to, he’ll be able to see! the man thought, now absolutely certain he knew who this child was.

  He waved some smelling salts underneath the boy’s nose for a brief moment and then walked away from him, letting him regain consciousness on his own. He wanted to check on the other young man.

  The wanderer was sitting at the spot where his camera had landed. Finally noticing his hand, he grimaced with pain as he held two of the pieces flush to one another, as if he could somehow weld them back together.

  “Someone very important must’ve given you that.”

  The boy nodded. “My father…he’s dead now,” he said, trying to fight back tears.

  The man had a strong urge to hug him, but he fought his fatherly instincts and refrained. He didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

  “From the look of it, there are some parts I won’t be able to use, but I can fix it for you…if you like,” he said.

  The young man still hadn’t looked up.

  “I understand that it has sentimental value, so if you don’t want me to touch it, I won’t…but…just so you know.”

  Finally, the boy looked up and met eyes with the strange man.

  “I’ll use as many of the parts fro
m your father’s camera as possible. When I’m finished, it may not look the same, and it may carry just a few...extra features...but I’ll do my best to retain its essence.”

  The young man frowned with curiosity.

  “You have family around here?” the doctor asked.

  Squinting in pain from his injury, the boy answered him. “No family. No home,” he said. “Can you really fix it?”

  “Sure. I can help with your hand, too…it doesn’t look so good,” he replied.

  The young man was still puzzled by him, but now grinning.

  “Hey, you hungry? I have a son and daughter, who are a bit younger than you, but I think you’ll all get on quite well,” the stranger said nervously, hoping that the boy wasn’t too stubborn.

  Realizing that he was, indeed, very hungry, the vagrant got to his feet. He raised his good hand and shook.

  “Name’s ‘Teshunua.’ ”

  “Zynathian.”

  5

  Bahzee sat staring with disbelief as he finished his story. “It was Felix wasn’t it?”

  Teshunua smiled at her. “Oh, you’ve had a run-in with him too, huh?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s the blasted reason we fled here in the first place!” Bahzee exclaimed, even more curious. “I’m assuming that you know who Felix’s father is, so...if you don’t mind me asking…how did you get away with that?”

  Teshunua gave a sinister grin.

  “Hah! That was one of the advantages of being homeless. Felix couldn’t send his father to kill someone who had no address,” he said, laughing. “They could’ve searched for me till Felix finished puberty and still wouldn’t have found me!”

  “Aw, man, I wish I could’ve gotten in a few licks on Felix, myself!” she said enviously. “So did you two leave him to recover on his own?”

  “We waited for him to wake up and once he was able to stand…”

  Teshunua quickly assumed the posture and countenance of Zynathian.

  “Get gone now, you little demon bastard! You don’t know me, but I had a run-in with your father long before you were born. You look just like him, and I would recognize that goddamn unibrow anywhere! Anymore evil deeds, and I’ll thump your skull and feed you to my bird! Now get lost before I bend you over my knee and give you a few licks of the strap!”