Hall of Mosses

by Evans, Nicoline

  She sat on the mossy rock that faced away from the noise of the group and closed her eyes. Her Champion sisters hadn’t stopped trying to break through her mental walls, so she finally let one in.

  Hey, Marisabel. She felt closest to her fresh water sister.

  Juniper! Where have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for days.

  I’m sorry. It’s been difficult. I am not doing well.

  What happened?

  I lost my Second and I can’t reach him telepathically. Does that mean he’s dead? Juniper asked, her voice frantic. It took a moment for Marisabel to respond.

  I’m not sure.

  I love him too much to lose him.

  Have you asked the trees?

  No, and they haven’t talked to me since Yellowstone erupted. They probably see me as a failure.

  I highly doubt that. You’re still alive, and that was the most important part.

  I have a following of thirty-four people. How am I supposed to rebuild with that?

  I only have seventy-five. I lost two thirds of my following to the flash floods and cyclones. Have you spoken to Sofyla yet? She lost fifty people to quicksand in the Saudi Arabian desert.

  Juniper absorbed this new information. She hadn’t realized the others struggled as severely.

  I’m sorry you lost so many.

  We all lost much. Be it our followings or simply the lives we knew prior to being selected as Champions. We’ve all made sacrifices to adapt to the changing times. We understand your pain, so please don’t shut us out.

  I’m sorry. I just needed some time to accept reality before rehashing it to another.

  I get it. Just remember: You are never alone.

  Thank you.

  How did you lose your Second?

  After the Yellowstone supervolcano exploded, the earth began tearing apart. We were carrying two injured boys to safety when the ground crumbled right beneath us. My friend and I made it to safety, but Roscoe got stuck on the opposite side. We went back today to look for him, but he wasn’t there. The forest looks nothing like it did before the attack. If it weren’t for the river, we’d have never found our way back to the last place we saw him.

  I can talk to the water. Maybe they’ll be able to help.

  I’d be so grateful if they could.

  Don’t be ashamed to reach out to the trees. I am certain they are nothing but proud.

  I thought they would’ve checked in by now.

  They are busiest of all the spirits right now. They have a lot of rebuilding to do beneath the hardened lava, ash, flooded land, and muddy soil.

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  I was told they are having difficulty recruiting the millions who died in the purge. They were hoping to convince the human spirits to be rebirthed as trees, but the deceased are angry and want no part in nature after the massacre.

  Juniper understood their hesitation to join. Seems logical.

  Agreed, but we need them to change their tune. They need as many spirit-born trees as possible if they wish to rebirth the planet. Trees can grow on their own, but without the supernatural strength of the spirits, they’ll never retake the land that’s been destroyed.

  I wish the trees had told me this.

  They would’ve if they weren’t so busy trying to succeed. According to the water, human spirits are rocketing one after another into outer space.

  I’m not sure how they’ll shift the angry tides in their favor.

  They’ll find a way.

  Sure hope so.

  I have to go. Stop blocking us out, okay?

  Okay.

  And don’t lose hope. Roscoe might still be out there.

  I’ll never give up on him.

  Marisabel vanished from her mind and Juniper was alone again.

  The next week passed in a miserable blur. There was no sign of Roscoe or the others. They made the trip north into the ash-covered town of Maple Grove and got all the supplies they needed, but never found the end of the fault line. Brett was right: it likely went all the way into Canada. The hope that the south side was shorter remained alive in her heart.

  Another week passed with no sight of the fissure’s south end. Juniper was afraid she might break. Her hope was fizzling and the grim reality ravaged her spirit.

  She planned another trip south. This time, they’d spend two weeks trekking along the fissure in search of a spot to cross over. She rallied the small group and led the way. Faces covered with dust masks and goggles, they left the safety of their section of the forest and headed toward Oregon. When they reached the state line, they took a break. The crevice continued south for as far as they could see.

  Turn around.

  Juniper was startled; she hadn’t heard from the trees in weeks. With practice she had learned how to answer using her thoughts, so the others could not hear her.

  We are searching for the others. I lost Roscoe; I need to find him.

  Turn around. It isn’t safe.

  Is he alive?

  We cannot answer that. Our main priority is you, not him, and we need you to stay in the safe zone.

  He won’t answer my thoughts. It feels like he can’t even hear them.

  Our main concern is your survival, so you must turn around now.

  I can’t abandon him. I have to keep looking.

  If you disobey us, we will wreak havoc on those you travel with. You have no comprehension of the danger existing beyond these borders. Do not force our hand.

  The trees had never threatened her before. It was a new and unwelcome feeling. In anger she broke the connection and paced the spot where everyone rested.

  “Are you okay?” Carine asked, concerned by Juniper’s sudden mood shift.

  “The trees told us to turn around.”

  “Why?” Clark asked. He didn’t want to end the search for Roscoe either.

  “They said if we go any further it’ll be too dangerous.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little danger,” Teek said, which elicited a look of disbelief from the others. After all they’d been through, inviting more danger was not on their itinerary.

  Juniper decided not to tell them about the threat as she did not want them to fear the trees, or doubt her bond to them.

  “We need to go back,” she said, her voice low in defeat.

  “What about Roscoe?” Clark protested.

  “We will keep looking for him in the areas that are safe. Right now, I can’t risk the rest of you getting hurt.”

  Her sorrow blanketed the entire group. Though no one wanted to turn around, they understood that she knew best.

  “Maybe we can build a bridge over the crevice,” Misty suggested, hoping to lift Juniper’s mood.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was void of emotion. “That’s a good idea.”

  They made it back to camp and Clark took the initiative to build a bridge. Juniper was too heartbroken to focus, though she remained determined to jump in tomorrow. Between the loss of Roscoe and the trees revealing their ultimate power over her, she felt deflated. She understood the intention behind the threat was to protect her, but she didn’t like the way it was presented. Perhaps the tree spirits were under a lot of stress; maybe they were still having trouble recruiting human spirits to choose reincarnation with the trees.

  She’d speak her mind the next time she heard from them, as she refused to live in fear. The trees were her ally, her friend, and she’d dig to the root of their last interaction to make sure it never happened again.

  Chapter 29

  The entire group worked hard to maneuver a fallen tree over top of the crevice. After sawing off the branches they were able to roll it at an angle that allowed the top half of the trunk to reach the other side before the weight could drag it into the abyss of the fracture. Once both sides were touching land, a few made the dangerous walk over the bridge and helped straighten it out. They rolled the trunk one more time into small holes they dug and secured it into place as best they could.


  They spent the next month scouring the unfamiliar forest of Olympic National Park. Everyone took turns making the treks except Juniper and Clark, who went on every mission. Despite their continued search, they found no one. They didn’t even find any clues in the woods that indicated anyone had been there. No campfires, no footprints, no makeshift shelters. The lack of human life was unnerving.

  It came to a point when the others had to make the call. They began organizing a memorial service for those who were lost and Juniper refused to partake in the arrangements. She was determined to prolong her denial.

  Everyone wept during the memorial except Juniper. She stood next to the burning pile of bark and mossy leaves without a tear in her eye. They weren’t dead and there was no need for sorrow.

  The days following the memorial were draped in fog; both literally and figuratively. The sky remained gray and the air was suddenly moist; the combination was terribly depressing. Juniper was numb. Her thoughts ran in circles inside her hazy mind. While Clark took the lead in helping the others build a suitable camp, Juniper hid beneath her tree. She made a conscious effort to make regular appearances in the group setting, but struggled to uphold a strong façade. She never lasted more than an hour or two before retreating back to her hideout.

  Roscoe, she kept pleading when in solitude, I need you to respond.

  He never answered, and she never stopped trying.

  If you don’t answer me I’m going to get mad. Everyone thinks you’re dead, and I’m starting to feel crazy. There was a long pause. Say something!

  There was no pull from the other side, no indication that her thoughts traveled farther than the walls of her skull. She slammed her fist against the rock she sat on, regretting it the moment the impact sent waves of pain through her small hand.

  “Juni,” Clark said as he approached from behind. Juniper did not turn around to look at him. She needed a moment to compose herself.

  “I know you’re hurting,” he continued. “You can talk to me.”

  “I’ll be okay. We have to stay focused and I need to stay strong.”

  “You don’t need to grieve alone.”

  She turned to face him. “If I talk about it out loud I’ll start crying and if I let myself cry, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

  “Fine, but if you keep internalizing it you’ll eventually explode. I understand that you’re maintaining an air of strength for the rest of the group, but there’s no need to try and fool me. I loved Roscoe too and I know I need someone to talk to. We can help each other.”

  “The pain is too fresh. As selfish as this will sound, I can’t listen to you talk about it anymore than I can bring myself to talk about it. I cannot fall apart right now. I need to hold it together until our group is thriving self-sufficiently.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Maybe when the sun comes back.”

  “If you find yourself slipping, please come to me. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  He departed without pushing any harder. She buried her face in her hands in defeat. Her denial was affecting the people she cared about who still remained. She had barely talked to Irene since everything fell apart, and Clark was open about how her distance hurt him. Jeb gave her sympathetic looks often, but never overstepped the invisible lines she had drawn. She had to find the courage to make things right. She had to fake her state of mind for the sake of everyone else. They needed her. She led them here and she needed to show them she was strong enough to carry on. They put their faith in her and she couldn’t let them down.

  Her change in attitude, even if it was a pretense, would start that afternoon. She joined the group for a lunch of canned beans and crackers. Their food supply was sparse and they’d need another trip into town soon. Teek and Brett volunteered to collect more supplies. After the endless weeks of searching for survivors in the newly designed forest, she trusted they knew their way.

  Through the chaos of nature’s attack, and the consuming grief that followed, Juniper never got to know Roscoe’s father. He was a quiet man and kept to himself, so he hadn’t tried either, but she imagined he was suffering silently too. Aldon Boswald sat alone, staring at the bonfire that slowly died.

  “How are you doing?” Juniper asked as she sat next to him. Her voice shook him out of his thoughts momentarily, but he did not stay engaged long. He shrugged in response and returned his gaze to the dwindling flames.

  “We don’t need to talk, I just wanted you to know I love Roscoe, and even though we held that funeral, I’m not convinced he’s dead. I’m holding out hope.”

  “Well, you better let go. We haven’t seen him in two months. Lying to yourself will only make the grief worse when it finally hits you.”

  Juniper was taken aback. “Don’t you want him to be out there somewhere?”

  “Of course I do, but wishing for it won’t make it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but if he’s dead, he’s dead, and I’d rather not talk myself into believing otherwise. It won’t do either of us any good.”

  “Alright then. I’ll leave you alone.”

  His grief had manifested into anger and there was nothing she could do to change that. She left his side and sat with the others around the campfire. They kept the mood light despite the gloomy circumstances they faced. Everyone was hungry, tired, and scared, though they collectively hid their sour moods in order to preserve some semblance of peace. Juniper feared it was only a matter of time before their true dispositions would rise to the surface and tear them apart. For now, she listened gratefully as Noah recalled happy memories of the motocross races he and his older brothers had won.

  Juniper retired to bed early. Though spending more time with the others was a nice distraction, it didn’t erase her suffering. Forcing a smile was draining and she needed time to be morose in private. It was important she convinced the others she was healing, so she needed time to refurbish her energy.

  Her mourning while isolated was relentless. It seized her from all angles and took her breath away. Her thoughts fell into dark pits, making the rest of the world disappear. The intensity of her grief sent her into fits of delirium and when she escaped these terrible moments of disorienting heartache, the crushing weight of her sorrow grew heavier.

  Roscoe, where are you?

  The more she spoke to no one inside her mind, the worse her condition became. She was losing her mind and refused to let anyone help. She faked sanity brilliantly during the day, and slipped back into hysterics at night. Clark suspected she was struggling, so she kept her distance from him. She didn’t need his help; there was nothing he could do.

  Making it worse were the dreams. Roscoe came to her often, alive and unharmed. He held her tight and whispered his love. These nightmarish dreams were crippling. They left her debilitated with false hope every morning, and it often took hours to convince herself those moments weren’t real.

  The last time she experienced such paralyzing grief was when her parents died. Roscoe was the first person she let in, the first person she loved since their passing, and fate took him away from her too.

  She woke up from another bout of taunting dreams and spent an hour shaking herself back into reality. With heavy circles under eyes and a deafening migraine, she wrapped herself in a blanket and shuffled from her secluded spot to join the group.

  Everyone looked worn. The rough conditions they were trying to survive were taking a toll. Those whose families were intact were weathered physically, and those who grieved in private, like Juniper, looked torn apart from the inside out. She took a moment to remind herself she wasn’t the only person buried beneath emotional pain.

  She sat next to Noah and Cade, who were now orphaned just like she had been at a young age. She told them about the death of her parents when she was a little girl. Even if they never talked about it again, she hoped they would find some comfort in her presence knowing she lived through similar grief. It was important to remind them they weren’t alone.

 
After comforting the boys, she realized she wasn’t taking her own advice. Though she saw the hypocrisy, she felt she was too deep to backtrack and let anyone in on her bordering madness. She couldn’t drag someone else into the mess of her grief; she needed to save herself. Once she found solid ground, she’d approach Clark or Irene, but for now she had to tackle it on her own. She pulled herself from the depths of depression before, and she had no doubt she could do it again.

  Chapter 30

  Don’t give up on me.

  Juniper forced herself awake and desperately tried to remember her dream, but all she could recall was Roscoe’s final plea.

  He spoke to her, she was sure of it, and it wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was him. He was alive somewhere, calling out to her while she slept.

  Talk to me, she begged. I’m awake. I’ll remember what you say.

  There was no response and the other side remained vacant. She buried her head into her hands and strained her memory. She was with Roscoe in the dream, he held her like he always did, but his words weren’t whispers anymore. They were loud and clear shouts. When she tried to remember what he said his voice became muffled and camouflaged by static.

  Nobody else knew they talked to each other telepathically; there was no one to confide in. She stood and paced the area beneath her private canopy of moss. She wished to fall asleep again, but never would, so she resigned to waiting until tomorrow. She’d make a conscious effort to hold onto her awareness while she slept.

  The day passed and she went to sleep with hopeful excitement. Mindful of her dreams, she never slipped into a deep slumber. She woke up the next day without a visit from Roscoe.

  It continued that way for the rest of the week. By Friday, she was visibly agitated.

  “What’s going on?” Clark asked, sitting next to her and eating directly from a box of cereal.

  Juniper hesitated, but decided to tell Clark her secret. He shoved a handful of Fruit Loops into his mouth as she divulged.