“Kirin…” came a loud whisper. “Kirin!”
Kirin looked around… Her eyes met with those of the brown-haired nurse. “Oh! Hi, Haley,” she said.
“Hey,” Haley answered. “Who was that?”
“His name is Stephen,” Kirin said, smiling. “That’s all I know.”
Haley nodded and produced a lucid grin. “He’s cute.”
Kirin smiled too. “Yes, he is.”
“I told you!” Michael shouted. “I warned you against this, but you would not listen!” He paced back and forth furiously in the Governor’s office. He had spent the afternoon removing the corpses of animals and humans from the city streets. The beasts they had dumped over the cliffs into the ocean, and the humans had been buried in a small clearing outside the city gates.
The Governor rocked softly in his chair. He held his hands up to his lips, his fingertips together. His office was simple, but enormous. There were no windows. The walls, laced with geometric designs in their molds, surrounded a single desk with a computer console. Imbedded in the ceiling was a round lantern which illuminated the whole room as if it were daylight inside. The designs on the walls made no distinct pattern or statement; they merely flowed over the surface of the circular room and ended where they began.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” he said thoughtfully. “This was a tragedy, I agree. But it could have been much worse.”
“I know it!” Michael snapped. “We were lucky this time. But we can’t count on being this lucky next time.”
The Governor could see where this was going. “Michael, we’re not going back to the ship. This was a fluke of circumstances. It was unpreventable.”
“No, it wasn’t!” he shot back. “If you had listened to me, there would have been no civilians here when this happened. They would still be alive!”
“Oh, come on, man!” the Governor retorted. “This could very well have happened back at the ship too, and there would be no one to blame. These things happen!”
Michael shook his head. “You’re reckless. You’re dangerous. And worst of all, you’re irresponsible!”
At this, Governor Hedrick slammed his fist on his desk. “I’ve had it, Michael! I’ve heard enough of your insolence! You’re supposed to advise me, not nag me!”
Michael sneered. “I’m trying to speak a little rationality into you. I wouldn’t mind your foolishness one bit, except that you are the leader of all the people, and you are being careless with their very lives! I’m responsible for their safety, and you expect me to sit idly by and just let them walk into their own graves.”
The Governor was not prepared to respond, and he remained silent.
Michael shook his head. “You disgust me,” he said, and then turned to leave.
“Michael!” the Governor shouted. “Remember that I command you!”
Michael paused, turned, and then stared the Governor down. “Only as long as I let you,” he said. Then, he was gone.
“Is this what Earth was like?” Kirin asked. “I mean...similar?”
Her father smiled, and they continued to pace quietly, side-by-side on the apartment rooftop. His hands were clasped behind his back, in the manner of a teacher pouring out his wisdom. She held her hands gently together in front of her. Her wrists bounced softly against her hips as they walked.
The evening sun barely touched the horizon. Dusk had not yet begun, but the sun was low enough in the sky to cast a soft, orange glow over the forest below. An occasional breeze sent a whisper through the leaves as they rustled together.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I was never there, but the books and pictures seem to say it looks like Earth…or at least the way it used to.”
Kirin shielded her eyes from the setting sun. “What’s it like now?” she asked.
Her father paused and raised his head, searching for the right way to answer. “Cold,” he said. “Very cold. It used to be warm like this planet, but it was knocked off of its normal rotation around the sun, and now it’s much too far away from it to keep warm. It’s only a rock now. There’s nothing there anymore.”
Kirin walked in silence for a moment, imagining how dark Earth must be. “Will this planet be able to sustain us?” she asked.
Her father scanned the forest to the point where it faded into the horizon. “I believe it will,” he said. He let his eyes fall downward, and his eyebrows furrowed to create the face of a man deep in contemplation.
Kirin looked up at her hero and felt an aching worry rise in her. “What’s troubling you?” she asked.
He exhaled and shook his head. “I fear something dangerous is rising. I fear something awful is going to happen.” He paused. “I’m afraid for your safety here.”
Kirin smiled slightly and tilted her head. “I’m not afraid,” she said. “Not if you’re here.”
Silently, her father thought, ‘Exactly the thing that worries me.’ He shook his head to end the conversation. His feelings of worry and anticipation had now evolved into a sickening fear of the future. He was able to look past his personal fears with moderate ease, but he did not want to imagine what could happen to his daughter. He was certain the Governor was leading them all to their doom.
They reached the edge of the rooftop and leaned against the four-foot mortar wall that would have been another level to the building, had it been completed.
Half of the evening sun was now hidden by the horizon. Occasionally, some native creature would emit a call or chirp somewhere off in the distance - a sound carried by the whisper of the breeze.
Kirin looked up at the cloudless, orange sky. Her long, black hair was nudged off her shoulders by the gentle wind, and she smiled again.
“This place is beautiful,” she said.
Her father looked down into the darkness of the thick forest, staring into the face of the unknown that had risen his primal fears. He heard his daughter’s voice and looked down to see that she was content to a degree he had never witnessed before. He put his worries aside and looked skyward, joining his daughter in the peaceful moment.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it is.”
She put her arm in his and leaned her head against his shoulder, reveling with security. She had all she ever wanted.
III - SOMETHING IN THE WOODS
1
Nighttime on the new planet brought a darkness that swallowed the details of the forest and mangled them into a single massive blur. The innumerable stars that dotted the nighttime sky could not cast enough light to allow the individual features - the leaves, shrubs and different species of trees in the foliage - to be noticed. The forest was only a green carpet that gave a smooth texture to the countryside’s rolling topography. Though the stars were quite noticeable, the planet’s spectacular moon served as an evening sun which cast brilliant rays of revealing light onto the hills and plains of the countryside. Though obviously not as intense as the sun’s rays, the solitary moon of the planet shed a blue-white glow that bathed the strange world in a quieted, serene luminance. The light revealed the individuality of the forest’s members and separated them into their own species. Although the moon was successful in outlining the forest’s features, the foliage itself concealed a number of creatures with watchful eyes.
It was awake, but unmoving. It may as well have been dead. The being’s dull, gray eyes did not glisten in the moonlight that filtered down through the leaves, but it could see very well. The watchful thing sat crouched among the bushes, staring through the thick trees and brush at the lights in the city. On a usual night, the creature would have passed by or possibly even spent the night in the normally-deserted city. But this night, its eyes were attracted to the shine of dozens of lights, coming from various windows in the distant buildings. They twinkled and glittered through the waving leaves like stars exploding at random in the darkness.
The creature did not move from its position - crouched on its haunches among the bushes. Through the wind and rustling leaves, it heard the faint grumble of distant thu
nder and seized the opportunity to exhale a soft grunt that blended in synchronism with the sounds of the forest.
Then all was silent. The wind ceased for a moment. The insects stopped their chirps, and the birds stopped their calls. There in the darkness, the massive form rose from its hidden position among the leaves and shrubs, and lurked back into the darker recesses of the forest from which it came - following the sound of the wide, trickling stream.
“What were you thinking?” asked Mandel, walking alongside Stephen. “I mean, where did you suddenly get the notion to become a hero and save a kid you don’t even know?”
Stephen stared angrily back at his friend as they walked through the city gate with empty water canisters in hand. “How can you even ask me that? She was in trouble. She needed my help, and I had to give it to her.”
They continued down the recently cut path, which led through the forest to the nearby freshwater stream. Mid-day had passed, and now the boys were out of water in their apartment. It had been decreed earlier by the Governor that each family was now responsible for gathering its own food and water. The stream and the flowering fruit trees in the surrounding forest were more than enough sustenance for everyone in the city. It was only a matter of going outside and gathering. The fruit bin Stephen had recently constructed was sitting in the corner of their apartment - full to the brim. He and Mandel had spent the last evening gathering foods, but they neglected to obtain more water.
Mandel shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You could’ve been killed.”
Stephen exhaled loudly through his nostrils. “So could she. That’s exactly why I did it. You mean to tell me you wouldn’t save someone’s life if it was in your power?”
“Not if it cost me my own,” Mandel replied.
“But it didn’t cost me mine,” he said. “I’m alive and well, and so is she, and it was all worth it. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t do a thing differently.”
Mandel continued to shake his head. “But you had no idea you would be able to pull that off. There was no way you could have possibly known that you would succeed. The truth is, you could have slipped up and destroyed two lives instead of just one. Like Dad says, always lend a helping hand if your own needs are met.”
As they descended deeper into the forest, Stephen looked back and could no longer see the city through the darkening veil of green. The light from the brilliant sun was now faded and dim beneath the leafy canopy. Stephen guessed they were about half a kilometer away from the city.
“Right,” Stephen said. “You just proved my point, Man.”
His friend looked genuinely surprised. “Didn’t you hear me? I said if your own needs were met first. You were putting some little kid’s needs before your own.”
Stephen returned a surprised look. “Exactly! Man, I can’t believe the way you’re talking. Of course I put her needs before mine. It was the right thing to do.”
Mandel wrinkled his nose. “But why?”
“Well,” Stephen started. “It was...”
He became suddenly silent for what seemed like several minutes.
Mandel raised an eyebrow at his struggling friend.
Stephen looked at the ground, trying to find the best way to express the need he had felt to help her. It was an urge he had never faced before. Back onboard the ship, everyone’s needs were met automatically and rather easily. No one truly required any other person’s help.
Stephen sighed in failure. “I can’t explain it.”
Mandel shrugged and lifted his other eyebrow as well. “And I can’t understand it.”
“Hmm,” thought Stephen, bothered by his own inability.
They continued to walk down the overgrown path, taking care to avoid stumbling over occasional fallen limbs and even whole trees that had not yet been removed from the path. After a moment, Stephen began to recognize the faint trickling sound of flowing water. He raised a finger and pointed.
“There it is. Over there.”
“I hear it,” replied Mandel.
They emerged from the forest and found themselves in a small clearing overlooking the rocky riverbank.
Stephen stepped over an outcropping of twisted roots and dirt, and landed on the bank, scattering a few small stones. By strict definition, the source was, in fact, a river. The only deceiving trait to its true classification was the unusual lowness of the water level. Stephen guessed that at certain times during the year, the river would return to roaring life. But now it seemed to only laze along shallowly.
They waded out a few feet and submerged their canisters into the cold, pure water. The two friends remained silent, not bothering to think of anything worthwhile to say during such a task.
Stephen exhaled a sigh of boredom. He stretched open his jaws, but before the yawn could be completed, Mandel emitted a strange whisper that caught his attention.
“What did you say?” Stephen asked.
Mandel did not look up. “I didn’t say anything,” he replied, beginning to yawn himself.
“I thought I heard you whisper something,” said Stephen, somewhat curious. He was sure he had heard someone speaking softly, although he couldn’t make out what was said.
“Nope,” replied Mandel.
Stephen returned his attention to the water in front of him. He was interrupted again by a soft whisper. He raised his head, preparing to accuse Mandel of playing tricks. But then, an odd, large form in the forest beyond the opposite bank caught his attention. Unable to identify it, Stephen quickly squinted his eyes. He gradually formalized the outline of something watching them from the opposite side.
“Man...” he whispered. “Man!”
“What?” asked Mandel.
“Do you see him?” Stephen asked.
“See who?” returned Mandel with a puzzled look on his face.
“Him!” Stephen whispered sharply, pointing across the stream.
Mandel’s mouth fell open. “What is it?” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know, but I know it sees us.”
The creature remained still, unwilling to move in the eyes of prey.
Mandel’s own eyes were wide with curiosity. “What should we do?”
Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Run back and get somebody,” Mandel said, shifting his position.
Stephen nodded - keeping his eyes on the motionless thing that watched them from across the stream. He could only make out the distinct form of a very large body and head.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he said. Stephen rose to leave, becoming somewhat scared.
Mandel grabbed his shirtsleeve and said, “Well, wait a minute. Somebody should stay here and make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.”
Stephen half-crouched again and whispered, “Yeah, right! I’m leaving.”
Mandel released his grip and, watching the thing in the woods, replied, “That’s fine. I’ll stay here.”
Stephen crouched down again and, still in a whisper, shouted, “Are you absolutely crazy? What if that thing’s hostile?”
Mandel’s face twisted into an expression that seemed to say, ‘Don’t be stupid.’
“Then why hasn’t he attacked us yet?” he asked, leaning forward with interest. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my knife with me.” Mandel pointed to the blade his father had given him, which was strapped to his leg. “Just go on.”
With much indecision, Stephen looked around at the forest behind him. “I can’t just leave you here, Man.”
Mandel did not shift his gaze from the motionless visitor. “Will you just go? I’ll be alright,” he urged. “Can’t you just trust my judgment?”
Tortured by uncertainty, Stephen asked, “Are you absolutely sure?”
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered. “Go on…and hurry back.”
Stephen breathed out through his nostrils and grudgingly rose to his feet. “Alright, Man. I’ll be right back.” He took one last look
at the creature and saw that it still had not moved at all. Stephen turned and walked back onto the forest path from which they had come, leaving his water canisters to bob lazily in the slow-moving stream.
Mandel turned his head briefly to watch his friend go. When Stephen disappeared from his range of sight, he turned back around and scanned the opposite side of the stream again for the creature. A surprised and curious look crossed Mandel’s face when he could not spot the ghostly figure anywhere among the foliage. He furrowed his eyebrows a little. A twinge of concern began rising within him.
Back on the path, Stephen increased his pace to a brisk jog, jumping over small shrubs and fallen trees. He was unaware of his hard breathing and the slight soreness in his knee. He thought only of the strange image that now dominated his essence. Stephen could not help but concentrate his energies on trying to formulate the shape of the creature that had stared down upon Mandel and himself. At that moment, a terrible scream of primal horror shattered the air from somewhere behind him.
Stephen froze and looked back down the path to the stream. He wanted desperately to flee back to the city, but somehow could not. Stephen felt suddenly sick at his situation. He did not want to leave his friend behind, but he could not seem to move.
“Stephen!” came Mandel’s terrified cry.
Stephen’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. He quickly clenched his fists and forced his feet into motion. Cautiously, Stephen began walking back toward the stream. He tried to listen for Mandel’s voice, but could hear nothing.
Suddenly, the brush in front of Stephen shook violently and a massive form leapt onto the path. Before he could even see it clearly, Stephen turned and ran with every bit of speed he could muster from his legs. He fled wildly through the thick forest, running through leaves and shrubs, not bothering to move them out of his way. His mind no longer thought about Mandel, or the city, or the beautiful Kirin. Every fiber of his being was now bent on survival through flight.
Haven Page 9
