by Archer Swift
***
I fell asleep easily but woke soon thereafter, and endured a restless night from that point on. Every jungle sound seemed magnified. My every sense heightened by the underlying tension I harboured. I didn’t know how I was going to keep my nerve when Shumbalic interrupted my nightmare-loaded sleep.
Between bouts of slumber, and the usual haunting images of Earth’s final medley of horrors, I ran through the events of the last few days. So much had happened and I struggled to process my emotions. My awakened feelings for Gellica; my utter disappointment with Judd’s attitude; the shame of my public sentence; the weight of the burden Scott shared; the disturbing threat Dylain and Ruzzell posed; and now, the clan’s distrust. Jumbled, muddled thoughts.
More than anything, my mixed feelings about them … ranging from ten years of burning, seething hatred to a bizarre, inexplicable compassion for one of them. Before I could even begin to unravel this thought, the possibility that Monix could be alive flooded my mind. Was she okay? What had she endured? How do I feel about her? I just couldn’t sort my thoughts and feelings out. I was overwhelmed, inundated. Besieged.
Over a decade on Eden, I had steadily and systematically learnt to shut down my emotions, learning to live and survive on raw instinct. Trying to make sense of the emotions that now swamped me, left me feeling suffocated. With the huge pressure bearing down upon my chest, I straightened my posture to free my lungs and gasped for air.
I looked up at the dark jungle canopy overhead. The ink-black silhouette of thick branches above me coiled and twirled together like a frightening knot of snakes. In my first few weeks on Eden, I’d often mistake them for a nest of Serpents in the dark of night. However, over the years, what used to terrify me became strangely comforting; the interlocking branches came to resemble two guardian hands with strong fingers intertwined—a protective shield over me. This was my ‘home’ after all, and ‘home’ usually had a way of calming the mind. Yet, not this night. Tonight, comfort and calmness were beyond my grasp.
I obviously fell into a deep sleep at some point because when I woke up and climbed down from my sleeping perch, Ruzzell and his cronies had already left. He hadn’t said a word to me since storming off the day before, and I didn’t know what he was scheming. That I would be a topic of discussion at his ‘meeting’ was as guaranteed as a Hog’s breath was foul.
I looked around the camp. Unsettlingly quiet. The girls were doing something along the river bank; probably washing their clothes. Jordin sat with his head folded on his arms at Base Stump. There was no one else around.
“Hey, Jordi. Are you okay?” I asked as I walked over to him.
“You’re awake at last,” he said with a huff, looking up; his eyes red and puffy, his cheeks blotchy.
I didn’t bother probing; I knew he’d lie to me again. “So, where’s everyone? Where’s Judd and—”
“Judd and Dixan…”—he wiped his nose with the back of his hand—“…joined Ruzzell and his gang.”
“What?” My blood went cold. “They went with Ruzzell?” I was floored.
“Yes, Ruzzell invited them to be interns, too.”
“Judd? Dix?” I was hoping he was having me on, even though I knew Jordin wasn’t capable of such jest. Man! My actions yesterday had pushed Judd and Dixan straight into Ruzzell’s grip.
Surely they wouldn’t—?
“But obviously not me … Ruzzell hates me,” sulked Jordin; his cheeks splotched again, and he rubbed his red-rimmed eyes as they began to water.
“You and me both, Jordi.”
Jordin didn’t look interested in my attempt to sympathise with him. “Ruzzell said we must go find the bow Shawz lost.” And then his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Oh, and he told me to tell you, Your days are numbered.”
