by Liesel Hill
***
It was an Instant. A single, inappreciable moment in time. He didn’t understand its significance as it came and went, but he would reflect upon it with near constancy for the rest of his life.
The Others had been with him for so long that he no longer knew what it was like to be without them. In that moment, he pulled away. He walled his mind off from theirs and became Alone.
It was like putting his feet on the side of a swimming pool and using his own weight and momentum to push off, muscling through the water as hard as he could, trying to get as much distance as possible. In his case, the water was cement that was drying too quickly. The pushing was excruciating, and the more distance he got, the more it hurt.
After what seemed a thousand years, the pain became numbness… Then the loneliness set in. To be so Alone in the darkness, to hear nothing, except one’s own thoughts…
The terror that crashed in to fill his chest was consuming.
He curled his body into a fetal position, wrapping his long arms around his head, and screamed silently. He screamed in his heart and in his soul and in his mind…but his voice made no utterance.
He crawled through the grass. He couldn’t raise his belly from the ground, so he had to use his arms to drag himself along.
Strangely, despite the loneliness and horror of his choice, he never reconsidered. He was a revolutionary unto himself, and there was no going back. Not now, not ever. He’d known that in the Instant he made the choice, but that seemed so long ago now. He’d had the others with him only minutes before, but it seemed a lifetime had passed.
The farther he got from the encampment, the more physical strength he found. Soon he was able to get up onto his knees and crawl. He didn’t know if anyone who found him would act unfavorably, but he didn’t know that they wouldn’t either. He had to get away.
He could feel them, pushing at the edges of his consciousness, trying to get back in. His body was weak, but his mind was not. He kept them out. He just didn’t know if they would be able to follow their sense of his mind to where he was physically. The farther he got, the longer he was Alone, the harder they pushed, slamming themselves against the barrier he’d put up around his mind, trying to get in. He succeeded in keeping them out. It was the first time in his life he’d known success against them, but then, it was the first time he’d wanted to.
When he crossed the Boundary, all sense of them left. He could no longer feel them trying to get in. He knew they could no longer feel him. He collapsed, gasping for air.
Hours passed before he could haul himself up and roll over onto his back. Another eternity before he could get to his knees and then to his feet.
The sky was dark, the landscape before him barren. He was Alone. He had heard of others who lived Alone. How could they stand it?
He was going to have to figure it out. The encampment was behind him—a part of his past he could never repossess.
He shivered. Then something strange happened. His vision blurred, and moisture bubbled up from inside his eyes. It spilled over onto his cheeks. He wiped at the moisture with his fingers and stared at it in puzzlement. What was this? This had never happened to him before. It didn’t hurt, so he decided it was a mystery for later.
Strange, to come to a conclusion on one’s own without anyone else’s input.
Unsure what to do next, he looked toward the horizon again and blinked. Was that color in the far sky above the mountains? The firmament was turning the barest shade of pink. His ordeal had taken the entire night. Now the sun was coming up. And it was… He had no words for what it was.
He had seen many sunrises in his lifetime but had never noticed them before. Now he was mesmerized by the color, the progressive change, the rays of light stretching over the landscape, the sheer majesty of it all. Why had the sunrise never affected him so before? He had no answer, but the moisture flowed freely from his eyes.
He had the sense that the beauty of the sunrise and the moisture in his eyes were connected, but he couldn’t explain it.
Still mystified, he knew he had to go. He had no idea how far he’d have to walk to find sustenance, and he was still close enough to the encampment to be wary of danger.
He cast a final glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t regret—not really. It was the bittersweet realization that accompanies all necessary change. He’d made a decision—all on his own—and he had to live with it.
