“What happened? Why did they shoot you? Are you dangerous? If you’re monsters, why do you look so much like people bones?” She spent a few minutes waiting and asking the trespassers more questions, but none of them replied from the Other Place.
Confused, she stopped trying to understand and approached the tiny cabin. A broken window peered in on a single chair in front of a shelf holding a small TV screen and a board full of letters on buttons. She tried to read the first line, but ‘qwertyuiop’ made no sense.
“Maybe it’s Spanish,” she muttered, thinking about those other odd words from the books that Dad explained to her.
A small white box on the wall marked with a red cross intrigued her, so she grasped the doorknob. She couldn’t turn it at all, no matter how hard she twisted or grunted. The knob only rattled side to side a tiny bit. The middle of the knob had a key slit that reminded her of her Haven’s door. Since she didn’t have the opener, and she didn’t want to cut herself to shreds on the fringe of glass teeth around the window, she gave up on the miniature cabin. It’s silly to make a cabin so tiny it’s got no room to lay down inside. Even her Haven had more room… at least sideways.
“Oh, that must be a haven, not a cabin… so small and it’s locked.” She shied away from the broken glass around the window frame. “Stupid. Tree Walkers can break glass. This is a bad haven.”
She shrugged and walked away from the fence, heading around a long left turn. Three-story tall rock face flanked the road on both sides where it cut through a hill. Wisp gazed up at roots and vines jutting out from fissures. Empty brass casings from rifle bullets jingled as her feet sent them dancing over the pavement. Some fifty steps later, the road curved rightward again before opening into a large clearing surrounded by rocky walls. A white, rectangular cabin stood alongside the road up ahead, which continued past it to an enormous metal door embedded in a cliff. She couldn’t think of any possible way to open such a thing, so she headed for the cabin instead.
Four metal steps led up to a small, elevated platform in front of the door, which hung ajar. She grasped the edge with one hand and tugged. The door only opened another two inches before sticking. A squeak came from a thin metal strut overhead that appeared to have broken away from a little box at the top of the doorjamb.
Wisp shouldered her rifle on the strap and grabbed the door in both hands, grunting from the effort to drag it open inch by inch. Once she dragged it far enough open to slip past the edge, she leaned her shoulder against and shoved it aside with her whole body. The door scraped over the metal platform, leaving a curved scratch. Wisp leaned against the door for a moment to catch her breath, then stepped inside. A wet, mildew stink saturated everything. Large spiders scurried around near the ceiling, but she disregarded them since she didn’t feel hungry. Metal desks, chairs, and more of those small TV screens and letter-buttons filled the room. She meandered around, gazing and touching everything.
Holes dotted the walls, similar to the ones in the boxy car outside. Four more skeletons lay on the floor here and there, the tattered remains of clothing too far rotted to be of any use clung to their bones. She approached the wall on her left and stuck a finger in one of the holes.
“Bullet.” She looked down at one of the skeletons. “People shot guns in here.”
She went from desk to desk, pulling open drawers, but found nothing that interested her―only papers with boring writing. One desk had a picture frame showing a smiling man in a fancy pale blue shirt with shiny metal bits clipped to it. Next to it, a thick stack of square papers sat mounted on a plastic frame. The topmost page read, ‘Friday - March 22, 2019.’ She opened the drawers, but found only more papers and a few small plastic tubes. She picked one up, testing the pointy end with her finger, but it didn’t feel sharp enough to be a weapon. Disinterested, she tossed it back in the drawer and kept exploring.
Near the inner wall, another skeleton lay flat on its back with a giant knife sticking up out of the chest. The end of the handle almost stood as tall as her chin.
“Ooo!”
Wisp ran over and grabbed the weapon in both hands, yanking it away from the bones, which broke apart. Grunting, she struggled to hold it up. The blade weighed almost as much as the rifle, and pulled her around as she waved it back and forth. Whenever she put any real effort into a swing, the blade dragged her stumbling after it. She widened her stance in an effort to hold her ground, and tried to chop the air again, but the huge knife flew out of her hands and stuck into the side of a desk with a deafening boom. She gasped in awe at finding a magic blade that could cut metal, but as soon as she ran over to pull it out, her elation died. The side of the desk looked so thin, even her little knife would probably punch a hole in it.
For some time, she played with the giant blade, slicing into the backs of chairs, stabbing a big plastic bottle on a pedestal, or trying not to fall over whenever she swung at empty air. Part of her wanted to keep it, but its weight made it impractical for anything other than being awesome to have. Reluctantly, she tossed it to the floor with a loud clank. Had she intended (and knew how) to go straight back to the cabin, she might’ve kept it as a curiosity or in hopes of using it later once she’d grown up, but she already carried a lot of weight and had no idea when she’d go home. She started to wonder if she would ever find Dad’s cabin again, but refused to think about that. She had every reason to believe that Mother would bring her to Dad, and he would be able to lead them home.
Another desk held a white paper box labeled ‘powdered donettes.’ Inside, a few dusty green rings gave off a sweet smell. She picked one up, but decided against biting it. Nothing meant to be eaten could possibly be that hard―or that furry. Not to mention, she caught a whiff of mold beneath the sweet. Wisp held the small ring up to the picture on the box. The one pinched between her fingers had a dull green hue, the drawing on the box looked white.
“These are bad.” She dropped it, and continued walking.
A crinkle underfoot made her pause a few steps later and look down at a piece of paper she’d stepped on. Curious, she crouched and picked it up. Her dirty footprint smeared over writing like in one of her books.
United States Strategic Operations Command
TOP SECRET
22MAR19
Update: Factions allied with General Falstaff have been declared enemies of the state. We have confirmation that POTUS has been assassinated by members of his security detail. The traitors have not breached any critical command systems. Do not be alarmed at rumors that the president’s order was illegitimate. We are preparing to execute the POTUS’ last lawful order if no contradictory command originates from EAGLES NEST in the next four minutes.
A small white space separated another bit of writing.
Update – 19:14 hours. We have followed the directive issued by the President of the United States. All configured weapons are in flight to their designated targets. NORAD confirms multiple inbound response vehicles. May God have mercy on all of us.
Wisp stood and dropped the paper, which fluttered gracefully back to the floor, half covering her left foot. Something about it made her sad, but she couldn’t quite place why. Perhaps it came from reading the words of a person she knew had gone to the Other Place. But, hadn’t the books been the same way? They’d been written so long ago that the ones who came up with those stories had to be in the Other Place by now, but simply reading those hadn’t made her feel like she’d watched someone die.
“Those are made up stories.” She nudged the paper away with her foot. “That’s real.”
The paper sounded as if it spoke of the Fire Dragons, but it called them ‘weapons.’ Dad referred to the rifle and pistol as weapons. He also said that the Fire Dragons were gone because people made them, and after they killed all the people, no one could make more Fire Dragons.
It occurred to her that she didn’t feel sad over what the paper meant, but rather because she questioned Dad. He had told her the Fire Dragons became angry, but this pa
per made it sound like the people told them to fly. But Dad wouldn’t tell her false, would he?
No. He didn’t. This must be something else. Some other weapons. The Fire Dragons got mad at the people for using these weapons. She nodded. That’s what happened. “Mr. POTUS was stupid. He shouldn’t have made the Fire Dragons angry.”
Wisp sighed out the last of her sorrow and resumed exploring the building. Down a hallway, she discovered a large outhouse with four seats separated by thin walls and doors. Like the one in that big cabin, these also didn’t have holes down into pits. However, no thick covering of black mold grew on them, nor did they contain nasty, so she decided to use one. A spindle of paper hung on the wall nearby worked much better than leaves. Unfortunately, the ngh just sat there in the bowl, stinking. In her books, the ancients did something called ‘flushing,’ but she had no idea what that meant. It had to have been magic of some kind that people forgot. She tried pushing the handle on the side of the seat, but aside from hollow clattering, nothing happened.
“Oops. It’s broken, I guess.”
She found a large cup on one of the desks and ran outside with it to collect dirt. Several back and forth trips finally buried the ngh so it didn’t smell as bad. She backed up, dusting off her hands, and wandered again into the outer room full of desks. A sense that she wasted time came over her. Since this place offered no food or anything useful, she left. Wisp paused for a moment on the road at the base of the metal stairs, glancing at the massive door in the rock wall. She decided to walk over and give it a few minutes of examination, but could find no handles, knobs, levers, or any way to open it. A small metal box with a circular patch of tiny holes on its face above one button didn’t do anything, so she gave up. Wisp jogged back down the road to the stupid little haven by all the empty bullet casings, heading for the gap in the fence by the crashed vehicle.
Her backpack snagged on the wire mesh when she tried to squeeze through. Grumbling, she twisted and squirmed until it popped free, and dragged herself forward until her legs slid clear of the mangled wire mesh. She jumped upright and frowned at the pale grey dust covering her hands, knees, and feet.
Clapping and swatting knocked puffs of silt into a strong breeze, which carried it off toward the forest beside the road. Next, she pulled out the Mother Twig and let it spin. The pointing device wavered back and forth for a second or two before it oriented toward the trees, the same way the dust had gone.
She closed her eyes, listening to the soft rustle of the wind in the leaves, and thanked Mother for her help.
Rifle held ready, Wisp marched off the road into the woods.
Escape
-18-
Frustration, fear, and worry crashed together, churning her breakfast of purslane and yellowgreens. Wisp had been following Mother’s guidance for three days, and had gone through all of the canned food. Yet, despite walking so long, she had not yet found Dad, or any other sign of the great monster’s passage. She had suffered another restless night, barely able to close her eyes without her Haven around her, and now roamed among the trees, the forest reduced to meaningless blurs by tears that refused to stop. The Mother Twig pointed her ever onward, but she still seemed to be getting nowhere.
Going home or finding Dad both became impossible goals in her mind. The first three hours of walking, she wept and sniffled, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Near midday, she found a patch of Oregon grapes, which she stuffed in her mouth by the handful despite the bitterness―in fact, she chewed slower because they tasted so strong. Girls who couldn’t find their Dads when they needed help didn’t deserve tasty food. Dad had only ever punished her by withholding story time. He loved her too much to hit or force her to eat bitter food. Once, he’d threatened not to put her in the Haven at night, but fortunately, he’d only said it to scare her. Scarfing down the pungent berries seemed appropriate enough as a bit of self-punishment. Not that she had actively done bad, but not being smart enough to find him had to count as being a little bad.
The endless walking turned minutes into hours, though by late afternoon, she’d stopped crying and resigned herself to a somber sense of being a failure. At least Mother hadn’t scolded her yet, the only reason she kept trying.
By early evening, she caught the sound of moving water on the wind and tried to head toward it. At least her ears didn’t fail her like her sense of navigation did. Within minutes, she located a rushing stream rolling down the side of a hill. If not for Mother showing her the way, she’d surely never go anywhere at all.
Wisp followed the water to a place where it leveled off and the current slowed. There, she foraged around until locating a long, straight-ish branch. After carrying it back to the water, she sat on the bank and sliced away the smaller offshoots until she had a pole a few feet taller than her height. She started crying again while she worked, thinking of Dad teaching her how to make a fishing spear. The whole time she split the end into four prongs, wedged another hunk of wood between them to force them apart, and tied it all with twine, tears splattered on her thighs.
By the time she finished the spear, she missed Dad so much she couldn’t do anything but curl up and sob. Grief lessened after a while, at least enough for her to latch onto the idea he would not want her to give up. She coughed a few times, wiped her eyes, and got to her feet.
Within five minutes of perching by the creek bank, she spotted a plump, silvery fish, and hit it on her first attempt. Her catch wound up on the small side, not quite half the size of the other fish she took, but it would be perfect for one meal. After building a fire, she scaled and gutted the fish, throwing the head and guts back in the water. Once the fish dangled over the flames on a stick, her mood alternated from sad to bored to feeling like the biggest failure in the whole forest.
A tingle spread over her left shoulder. She turned her head, but nothing appeared to have touched her. Mother must’ve put a hand on her for comfort.
You’re right. I’m not a big failure. I’m still alive. “Did I do bad?”
She waited a few minutes, but Mother said nothing.
Relieved, she kept turning the fish around in the fire until it cooked all the way. The skin came out crunchy, the way she liked it. Wisp sat with her feet apart, elbows balanced on her knees, and nibbled at the fish until it cooled enough to take full bites.
When she finished eating, she kicked dirt on the fire, flung the stick/fish skeleton into the brush, and took out the Mother Twig.
“Mother… please help me. I’ve been walking for days. I know you’re trying to guide me to Dad, but it… I’m sorry. It feels like I’m walking over the same ground again and again. Please help.”
The twig took longer than usual to stop wobbling around, though she figured the constant breeze probably made it difficult for Mother to reach into the forest from the Other Side and turn the stick to point the right way. Eventually, the twig aligned with the stream, so she put it away and trudged along the bank, dragging her spear behind in a lazy three-fingered grip.
Her mind blanked out as she followed the water, ducking branches and the occasional dragonfly. Having the obvious path of a stream to follow made it easy to avoid wandering in circles, and she had a reasonable certainty of heading east. After an hour or so, a glimmering sheen up ahead beyond the trees stalled her. Jaw hanging open, she stared at the fiery glow upon the ground with an increasing sense of awe. Gradually, Wisp crept forward, pulled by curiosity and wonder. The closer she got, the more it looked as though the sun had spilled onto the ground. With an arm up to shade her eyes, she kept going, but remained wary, ready to jump back if the fire ahead became too hot. A thick mass of bushes scratched at her arms and legs, but she forced her way past the tangle and stepped out into an area of relatively short grass with open patches of dirt. The blinding glare upon the ground faded into the largest collection of water she had ever seen in one place. Stunned, she stood motionless, mesmerized by the glimmering ripples gliding across the surface.
The stream
she’d been following ran down a stepped stone terrace on its way to pour into a colossal puddle. She looked from one side to the other, figuring it would take her more than an hour to walk all the way around the edge. The occasional tree and dead log broke the surface here and there, but the calm water had no visible current. A pronounced sense of serenity hung in the air.
Once the shock wore off, she climbed down the short hill alongside the stream and approached the water’s edge. More of those ‘goat’ creatures gathered in a cluster off to the right, far enough away that they didn’t react to her. Near the water, the greenery had been plucked mostly clean to dirt, likely by those animals.
She thought about the bathtub at the cabin, and remembered enjoying the water, but she’d never imagined finding a ‘tub’ so huge. Her last bath had been well over a month ago. Even if this giant bathtub didn’t have a fire under it to make the water warm, the temptation to jump in grew strong.
A short ways past the goats, she spotted a giant elongated bowl with one pointy end and one flat end laying tilted but mostly upside down. Figuring it a decent hiding place for her stuff, she trotted over. The goats regarded her with mild disinterest, but did wander off to keep their distance. Wisp crouched beside the strange machine and peered underneath, surprised to find chairs, and a ‘wheel’ like inside the SUV. Wisp straightened and examined the smooth outer shell. It didn’t have any tires, but a metal pinwheel stuck out of the flat end. Based on the chairs and wheel, she figured this odd contraption had rolled upside down.
The bizarre machine that kinda looked like a car but didn’t have wheels defied her understanding. Still, whatever it was, it had to be as dead as everything else from the old Earth. It might not do what the ancients made it for any longer, but it would work perfectly as a hiding place.
Wisp set the rifle leaning against the steering wheel, then removed her backpack and put it next to the rifle. She unclipped the canteen belt and lay it nearby, then peeled off her shirt, exposing skin noticeably cleaner and paler than her arms and stomach. Last, she undid the one leather belt buckle and one nylon clip fastener that kept her skirt on, and let it fall to the ground, taking the knife sheath with it.
The Forest Beyond the Earth Page 15
