by Jack Castle
We must’ve somehow departed the alien vessel while it was in low orbit of this planet. A high-altitude, high-speed descent would account for the heavy scorching on all frontal areas of the Hail Mary. It’s a miracle she didn’t just break up in the air.
Using their dog tags, I identified the bodies of the two human crew members I found as Lt. Gary ‘Boots’ Hughes and Lt. Albert Williams. I’ll bury their remains in the morning. I have no way of knowing how long we were held captive on the alien ship, but one of my crew members seems to be in his late sixties, while I have hardly aged more than five years.
Having done a brief scouting expedition, I discovered that, despite the cold, this floating island is thawing. I can only guess that the island must have come from a polar region and is currently moving south.
Onboard rescue provisions are good, and I have more than enough food and water to last for about two weeks.
The ship’s compass continues to spin without rhyme or reason, and I didn’t think to time how long a day lasts here. I’ll have to remember to do that tomorrow. Very tired now, must rest.
#
Date: Day Two
Time: Morning
While digging the graves, I spotted smoke on the horizon. I’ve decided that I’m going to make a break for it in the morning and see who made those fires.
As I learn more about my surroundings, I learn more about myself. I discovered that I wear a wedding ring, so I can only assume that I’m married. However, I can’t remember my wife.
…
Afternoon:
I found a photo on the flight console in the cockpit today. It’s a picture of me with a beautiful woman and an approximately nine-year-old girl standing on a white sandy beach. At first, I wasn’t sure it was my family, but the young girl seems to have some of my facial features.
Having thought about them, I can feel them in my heart, even though I still can’t remember them. At least now I know what they look like, and they motivate me even more to get home, however impossible it seems at the moment.
…
Dusk:
Despite the apparent hopelessness of my situation, I try to remain optimistic and look forward to exploring this new world. I’ve made a checklist of things I want to bring with me.
Checklist:
binoculars
rucksack
flares
knife
gloves
flare gun
flashlight
first aid kit
rope
matches
sunglasses
cover
canned rations
spare clothes
cigarettes
spare pistol
jacket
canteen
spare magazines
spare socks
pocketknife
#
The next morning, Captain Reed stepped out of the Hail Mary, closed the hatch behind him, and hefted a heavy rucksack over one shoulder.
He looked to the horizon, and the rising amber sun warmed his face. The temperature was cool but not so cold that he could see his breath on the wind.
He donned his aviator sunglasses to cut down on the glare from the ice and walked along the length of the plane. His boots crunched the melting snow.
As he passed the clamshell window near the tail end of the fuselage, he noticed the .50-caliber gun lying inside. Harry wished he could take the extra firepower but knew he had to travel light or he wouldn’t get very far.
His hand lovingly caressed the aluminum fuselage one last time. Even with his Swiss cheese memory, Harry remembered that this plane meant a lot to him. They had been together for a long time. He wasn’t sure of the details, but he knew they had seen their share of spilled blood.
Although he was packed up and ready to go, Harry dropped his rucksack in the snow and ducked inside the plane for a few minutes. When he reemerged, he held the emblem from the center of the plane’s yoke controls — an emblem to which every captain had an unofficial right. He then walked away from the Hail Mary believing he would never see it again.
#
Date: Day Four
Time: Morning
Spotted smoke on the horizon again. Appears to be stationary. Hope to reach my fellow inhabitants of this floating island by midday.
…
First Break
I’ve been stumbling up a mountainous trail over the frozen tundra for hours now. Thankfully, there’s little wind.
With the exception of evergreen-looking trees and prickly underbrush, most of the tundra is devoid of vegetation. I’ve also noticed rocks and boulders that float or levitate at different levels above the surface. I can only speculate that they are filled with varying amounts of the same ore that comprises my floating island.
Before continuing my ascent, I took some time for a meal of canned rations, which I’ve not had the displeasure of eating since the war.
…
Second Break
Crested my first mountain! I’m now in a valley that grows more lush by the hour as my island moves farther south. Is it south? Perhaps I merely find a concrete compass heading comforting to think of. Either way, it’s getting warmer.
During my descent, I saw that the valley teems with wildlife. I spotted about a hundred large woolly-mammoth-type creatures streaming through a mountain pass opposite me, and then I saw a small flock of three-legged, goat-like creatures, some with an impressive array of horns, scampering over a large glacier.
Upon reaching the valley floor, I passed a river and saw about a dozen bear-like creatures with fins on their backs. They fished in waters thick with eels that seemed to cry out when caught.
This place is strange but nonetheless beautiful.
…
Third Break
I stumbled across an old campsite. I found it near a heavily used trail that slopes downward out of the valley. As I followed the trail, I came across enormous tracks and large smelly piles of dung.
I can still see campfire smoke in the distance. I believe the camp is less than five miles ahead of me.
…
CAMPSITE!
Cresting a hill, I spotted the encampment. Lying low and keeping out of sight, I used my binoculars to take a closer look and saw a nomadic caravan that appears to be stopped. The camp includes about five drab pitched tents, with adjoining campfires, and one big, brightly colored tent that is adorned with flags.
Four wide wagons that have no wheels are parked nearby. The wagons float in the air about three feet off the ground. I believe the wagons are made of the floating ore that is abundant on the island.
Hideous oxen-sized creatures, which appear as powerful as they are ugly, are hitched to the wagons. They have flat, wide bodies, short thick legs with paws that face inward, and buck teeth. I didn’t see anything in the camp that appears more modern than a covered wagon or pitched tent.
Staying low on the hill and zooming in with my binoculars, I saw small humanoid figures, about twenty in all, milling about the camp. With no known frame of reference, I guess they’re about four to five feet in height. They are thin, but well-muscled, and have thick two-fingered hands and sickly purple skin that appears to have a rubbery texture, like whale blubber. They also have onion shaped heads with big yellow, goldfish-like eyes, small mouths and no noses.
All the purple onion-heads are dressed in little more than rags, despite the cold, and are seemingly unaffected by the temperature. They walk around with their heads lowered and seem to do chores, which leads me to believe that they are servants of some kind. They keep going in and out of the brightly colored tent at the camp’s center, always bowing as they enter and exit. I thought the little purple servants comprised the caravan, but then I saw the giants, who look nothing like the othe
rs.
There are three of them. Although humanoid in form, the smallest of them is nearly twice the height of a normal man and easily three to four times as wide. If the little rubber servants are four feet tall, then these woolly giants are eight to twelve feet tall. With their thick girth, shaggy fur, and long, yet powerful looking arms, the beasts remind me of an arctic mountain gorilla but are even taller and wider.
I zeroed in on one of the giants and saw that it has the muzzle and snout of a lion and wears armor akin to that of a samurai warrior. Its mouth hung open, and even from a distance, I saw rows of jagged, triangular-shaped teeth.
The giant woolly samurai not only look and dress differently than the smaller purple-skinned servants but also have an entirely different demeanor. Unlike the busy servants, the samurai quietly stand guard on the outskirts of camp.
Standing next to each of the woolly giants are what appear to be their mounts. The beasts look nothing like the buck-toothed oxen-type animals hooked up to the wagons and instead resemble enormous ostriches with two legs and thick feathers. However, the similarity stops there because the samurai’s beasts also have tiny forearms, thick legs, and a long neck with a fin. These beasts definitely aren’t ostriches.
As I adjusted my binoculars to focus again on the samurai, I noticed that one of them is bald on top and looks older, more scarred than the rest. It turned its head in my direction, as though it sensed me, and appeared to be looking right at me. This was impossible, of course, because I was still a good distance away, but I could have sworn it felt my presence somehow.
As dangerous as these three giant beasts look, I know I can’t just sit here; I have to make contact.
#
Captain Reed threw the journal back into his rucksack, hiked the bag onto his shoulder, and moved across the thawing tundra toward the alien nomads’ camp.
At about three hundred yards out, he began to hear the miscellaneous sounds of the camp and its purple, blubber-skinned servants: the clinking of pots and pans; the brushing of the buck-toothed, flat-backed oxen; and the beating of rugs on a clothesline. He also heard various conversations in a language that sounded like rubber bands being strummed.
Figuring it would be safest to wait outside the camp until he was invited in, Harry dropped his rucksack beside him and waved to the busy servants in the camp. “Hello,” he said.
The purplish servants simultaneously ceased their labor and stared at him. The only sound Harry heard now was the wind.
Immediately, the bald samurai, the one who had seemed to sense Harry earlier, mounted his nearby ‘ostrich’ and headed toward Harry at a full gallop. A fatter, red-furred samurai quickly followed, and a more slender, black-furred samurai moved toward the brightly colored tent.
The tall bird-like creatures thundered toward Harry, raising ice-dust behind them, and suddenly Harry wasn’t in as big a hurry to meet the local inhabitants.
He fought the urge to run or, at the very least, to draw his .45-caliber pistol. Instead, he remained still with his arms outstretched, palms open, in what he hoped was a universal signal for peace.
Looking back at the camp, Harry noticed that the small servants still had not resumed their chores; they stood watching him. He also saw a lone humanoid creature emerge from the brightly colored tent, followed closely by the black-furred samurai.
Although this latest creature had its head and face concealed beneath white coverings, it looked more human than the others. It was taller than the servants, although not by much, and it was thinner and frailer looking. Even from a distance, Harry saw that the thin humanoid’s movements were graceful. It grabbed a tall walking staff that leaned against the tent and began moving toward him, trailing far behind the giant samurai riders on ostrich-back.
When the two samurai noticed the tent owner’s presence, they protectively steered their mounts to block Harry’s view of what seemed to be their master.
The red-furred rider was almost upon him when Harry realized that he’d lost sight of the old, scarred one. Hearing a sound behind him, he spun around and saw the missing samurai. How in the blazes did he sneak up on me? Harry wondered. There’s no cover on this open plain within a square mile.
Harry soon found himself encircled by both furry samurai on their giant ostriches. The bald rider shouted something to him in a strange tongue; he had the gruff vocal chords of a lion. When Harry didn’t answer right away, the rider urged his mount forward, and the ostrich beneath the saddle lowered its head and butted Harry in the chest.
Harry stumbled backward and crashed into the other rider’s leg. He immediately received a powerful kick to the back that sent him stumbling toward the other rider.
“I’m sorry; I don’t understand,” he cried, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The samurai continued to harass him with their mounts. The oversized birds’ hooves pounded the ground, and Harry knew that if he wasn’t careful, he’d be trampled.
Finally, Harry tried to make a run for it, but one of the ostrich creatures leaped into the air and landed in front of him. He doubted that the oversized birds could fly any better than a rooster, but they were certainly capable of making high leaps and jumps.
The birds’ serpentine necks repeatedly battered at him. When one of the birds snapped at him with its sharp beak, it took off a piece of his ear. Harry’s hand shot up to cover the painful, bloody wound, only to have the bird snap at his side. The other bird then slashed his arm with its tiny forelimb and cut through his jacket. Harry’s sleeve puffed out from the blood.
“All right, that’s it!” he shouted. He unsnapped his holster, drew his pistol, and flicked off the safety.
He intended to fire a warning shot, but before he could, the bald samurai deftly dismounted, far too quickly for its size. The ground shuddered when the beast landed.
Harry was right in his estimation of the creature’s height. It was huge; its head easily would have touched the bottom of a basketball hoop. Harry aimed his pistol at the giant’s chest and ordered it to stay back, but the creature seemed less afraid than intrigued by his weapon.
The creature’s hide looked incredibly tough, but Harry was pretty sure a .45-caliber bullet would penetrate its chest armor and fur-covered skin, especially at such close range. He saw his own outstretched hand shaking in front of him, but he reasoned that he’d already killed a little gray alien this week, so why not a ten-foot yeti dressed like a samurai?
The samurai bared its rows of jagged, triangular-shaped teeth at him, as though sensing what he was about to do. Harry pulled back the pistol’s hammer. He knew that the beast’s buddy would probably get him from behind, but it wouldn’t be before he emptied a clip into battle scarred baldy.
As the hammer clicked back, the bald giant assumed a fighting stance that also reminded Harry of a samurai. Harry heard a blade unsheathing but never actually saw the giant draw his weapon. It seemed as if the bald samurai reached toward his scabbard one second and returned the blade to it the next.
Somewhere in between, a hand-shaped balloon flew through the air and landed in the snow about six feet away. It held Harry’s gun.
Captain Reed had lost his hand.
Harry blinked in disbelief as blood spurted about three feet in front of his severed limb. The furry giant had cut off his hand at the wrist. He clutched the bloody stump in his left hand and fell to his knees, muttering “Oh, Jesus” over and over again.
A lesser man might have passed out, but Captain Reed had seen men’s limbs blown off in the war and knew he had to act fast. His survival training kicked in, and he removed his scarf and tied a tourniquet around his right wrist using his left hand and mouth. He knew that he would still bleed out in a matter of minutes unless he cauterized the wound, but without a flame, he didn’t know how he was going to managed that. He suddenly remembered the pack of flares in his rucksack. It was going to hurt, but he knew he had little choice: the
flares would have to do. He rapidly crawled across the melting tundra to his pack and struggled to remove the clasp.
A shadow appeared over him, blocking out the sun. Harry looked up to see the bald samurai. The giant picked him up as effortlessly as a little girl picks up a rag doll and held him at eye level. Harry felt his legs swaying off the ground beneath him.
The bald giant barked something unintelligible at him. When Harry didn’t reply, the alien samurai dropped him roughly to the ground. Somehow, Harry landed on his feet, and the bald giant shoved him backward with one hand. Still standing and now delirious, Harry pushed back.
“You cut off my hand, you son-of-a-bitch!”
The battle-scarred samurai raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed with Harry’s bravado, and then backhanded Harry so hard he thought his jaw was going to fall off.
Harry flew through the air and landed in a heap. In his weakened condition, he could no longer offer much of a fight; he simply clutched his bloody stump. The second samurai, the red-furred one, dismounted, and Harry felt the beast’s fur-skinned claws wrench his arms painfully behind him, nearly pulling them out of their sockets, and then the creature forced his head down.
Before his face was forced into the tundra, Harry saw the bald samurai remove his weapon from the scabbard on his back. This time, he got a good look at the weapon. It was about the length of a sword but had numerous jagged teeth that curved toward the handle in scimitar fashion. Judging from the noise it made when unsheathed, the weapon was very, very sharp.
Harry knew that the samurai was going to finish him off in one quick, smooth stroke, and he didn’t doubt the warrior’s proficiency.
He let out a cry as his arms were pulled even farther behind his back. He got a glimpse of the swordsman raising the blade high, executioner style, against the backdrop of the bright arctic sun.
This is how it ends, he thought. I survived so much, only to die now.
“Ey’och!” said an ethereal voice. The words were as alien and gruff as the giant’s had been, but the voice was softer and definitely female.
Before losing consciousness completely, the captain looked up to see his benefactor and saw an angel instead. He realized that the humanoid walking with the staff was not a thin man, as he had first thought, but a young woman, perhaps a teenager. When she pushed back her head coverings onto her thin shoulders, Harry saw that her extremely narrow face was hardly human but still exquisitely beautiful. She had short purple hair, pointed ears, fair skin, luminous green eyes, and a painted face. She reminded Harry of drawings he had seen of fairies and wood nymphs.
