The screams and cries were terrible—great pain being suffered by both animals along with waves of fear crashing among Peter’s group. The match burned his fingers. He dropped it to the floor. As the light went out he heard the deep crunch of what could only have been the coyote’s head.
The barking and growling stopped. Peter tried to light the last match, but his trembling fingers dropped it. He fumbled on the ground for it, all the while feeling something draw closer. A blackness within the dark. He willed himself to remain calm and almost succeeded. His shaking hand found the last match. As he slid it against the side of the box, he saw through the small ball of flame that a huge set of open, bloody fangs were just inches from his throat. The wolf’s ears, flattened against its skull, pointed backwards over its impossibly large shoulders. A low growl started in the wolf’s belly and slowly began to get louder. Peter knew that once the growl grew to its fullest, the wolf would lunge for his throat.
Peter felt an odd, calming sensation as saliva from the wolf’s jaws dripped onto his leg. He was about to die, but he hoped his brother and their friends would escape. He gave silent thanks to the coyotes which had died attempting to protect them from a foe that overmatched them in every way.
He closed his eyes, tried—and failed—to ignore the growl, and dropped the match. Through his closed eyelids he suddenly saw a blinding red light, and then heard a loud thud as something very large hit the ground.
***
“That was unfortunate,” Orb’s thought penetrated their minds as they stood around the carcass of the giant wolf. Peter held the refilled, relit lantern in front of him, but it was not necessary. The entire room was bathed in red light emanating from Orb.
“Unfortunate?” Eli asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” Orb replied, nonplussed. “I was not aware of this wolf or I would have utilized it as a guardian. This one is a male. A lobo, or lone wolf. Quite a magnificent specimen that Cube was able to utilize.”
Peter looked at the large, red tongue hanging out of the dead wolf’s partially open mouth. The white teeth which had just been at his throat still gave him chills. “What did you do to it, Orb?”
“I stopped its heart, Peter. Just in time, too.”
Peter exchanged a glance with Jenny. She too looked sad. It was strange to feel bad about something that had just tried to eat you, but as Orb had just said, this animal had been manipulated by Cube. Left alone, this wolf would have remained roaming the mountains around the town. Peter again thought about the wolves his grandfather had killed on their farm—wolves that had lived in that spot for generations until settlers and their livestock changed everything.
Jenny also felt a strange sense of grief about the wolf, and the coyotes, but the main thing bothering her was this afternoon’s meeting at the church. “Orb, we met Bartholomew. We know about the Game.”
Orb pulsed briefly. “Yes, Jenny, it was necessary.”
Peter shared another look with Jenny, then Eli. Irene and Matt remained huddled together, staring down at the wolf. It was Irene who spoke next.
“Orb, I wasn’t in the church like Jenny and Peter, but I don’t think I understand whatever it is we are calling a Game.” She pointed down to the wolf, and then to the small carcass of the coyote close to the door. “This is not a game to me. This was us almost being mauled to death!”
Her voice cracked a little with that last statement—a combination of stress, fear and anger. Matt pulled her closer and whispered reassuring things in her ear. Everyone else, who felt to some degree the same as Irene, stared at her for a moment before turning back to Orb. It was hard being angry or arguing with someone that did not have any emotions. In fact, the lack of an emotional response just made it all that much more frustrating.
Matt, now hugging Irene close, glared at Orb. “I don’t understand any of this either, and I don’t want to. Orb, take us home. We’re done.”
Orb pulsed again, then replied, “You will all understand more once we arrive at our final destination. I am now fully recharged. We will leave here, together, at ten-eighteen this morning when the trade winds are optimal.”
They digested this information and again traded glances. Eli, still holding Jenny’s hand, said, “I don’t think you understand, Orb. We don’t want to go to Costa Rica. We want to go home.”
“That is not an option.”
Eli caught Peter’s eye. Peter nodded. “Orb,” Eli continued, “Please understand. We tried to help, but we’re scared. We need to go home.”
“I understand. It is unfortunate that this wolf—a guardian of Cube—was able to penetrate the defensive grid. All is well now. I will protect you. Go back to sleep. You will need your rest.”
“Go back to sleep?” Irene yelled, outraged.
Eli, also fuming, started to pile on but Peter beat him to it. “Orb, it was you who dried up the river.”
“Yes—via my reunited receptacles on the other side of your state.”
The fact that Orb admitted this so matter-of-factly caught Peter off-guard.
“You lied to me to get my help!”
“My reunited receptacles used their power to influence those in power and dam your part of the river. The river itself was a guardian of Cube. Previously the main river ran through your small portion. It has taken me many years to free myself of its embrace, which masked my presence from my guardians and muted my power.”
Peter opened his mouth, ready to say several hurtful things, when he pulled back and simply repeated, “You lied.”
“No, Peter. You never asked.”
He struggled to put the things he wanted to ask next in order. He had so many things he wanted to say. How could Orb, who acted as if he were all-knowing, be wrong about so many things—like the wolf? How could they trust anything Orb said? Apparently, everything Orb said needed to be questioned, which was awfully hard when they did not even know the questions to ask. Did Orb care at all about them, or were they simply pieces in his Game?
“And this ‘Game’ that Bartholomew mentioned—you and Cube play this throughout the universe?”
“Yes.”
“Why, Orb? What is the point?”
“You will understand when we reach our final destination.”
Peter put his hands on his hips, a sure sign of anger. “Why don’t you just tell us now?”
“No.”
“You don’t seem to be listening to us, Orb. We don’t want to go.” Peter pointed down to the wolf. “We don’t want to die!”
There was a short pause, and then Orb answered, “Everything dies, but death in this form is not the end.”
Peter’s mouth fell open as he tried to respond. This fully charged version of Orb was not even pretending to be interested in what they wanted. What could he possibly ask now? As it turned out, he did not have that opportunity.
“You must rest, Young Ones. We have a full day ahead of us.”
They heard the words, and then slowly dropped to the floor, and slept. Orb hovered in the middle of the room directly over the wolf carcass, pulsing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Costa Rica
Peter saw a flash of light that seemed impossibly far away. He was reminded of the time that he and Eli had gone swimming at the old quarry outside town. They had taken large rocks from a ledge carved out of one side, clutched those rocks to their chests and then jumped together into the greenish water fifteen feet below. The sheer rock wall of the quarry sped by as both boys were propelled downward by their jump and the miniature boulders they clenched in their hands. Peter had had no idea how far down they went into the dark waters that filled the old quarry, but he could no longer see Eli. Suddenly his head exploded in pain as his ears tried to adjust to the depth. Peter dropped his rock and screamed, losing most of the air in his lungs to a stream of bubbles that traveled up above him to the light on the surface that seemed so far away.
He had, obviously, not died that day, but he never forgot the searing pain in his lungs from the lack of oxygen
and the pain in his head from the depth as he frantically clawed through the bubbles of air that had escaped his mouth. The backside of the water’s surface glistened and shimmered as the air bubbles reached it and disappeared into the glow of the sun far above.
Peter heard a gasp, opened his eyes, and realized he was lying flat on his back looking up at a small patch of light in the distance. He felt something blocking his throat, his air, and it was his turn to gasp. He dizzily pushed his back off the ground, then rolled to all fours, his head hanging down between his elbows as he tried to find air to fill his burning lungs.
“We are here, Young Ones. Breathe easy.”
Peter heard Orb’s words but could not make sense of them. Where was ‘here’? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep after the wolf attack back in Mexico.
Peter’s tongue felt too large for his mouth. He tried, and failed, to move it out of the way of the air he needed. He turned to his left and saw Eli and Jenny hunched over, also struggling for breath. He slowly swiveled his head to his right and saw Matt rubbing Irene’s back as she coughed for air. The effort to look around was too much, and Peter’s head lolled back toward the ground. Like that day at the lake, he tried to calm himself down. He was going to make it to the light. He was going to find air.
His tongue finally cooperated somewhat, and air began to trickle back into his lungs. Peter greedily sucked the air in, trying to stay calm, when the largest centipede he had ever seen emerged from the leaves next to his right hand and began crawling across his knuckles.
He held the small bit of air he had managed to breathe in and fought back a scream. If he scared it, would it bite him? The centipede thing was easily a half-inch wide and five inches long, its back covered by alternating spots of orange and yellow. Peter whimpered, and then found his hand bathed in red light.
“You are in no danger, Peter,” Orb said. “This species is not venomous to the touch and, in any event, it will not bite you. Breathe easily.”
Peter felt the tiny feet marching across the back of his hand and fought the impulse to flick his hand and run. He instead took a small breath and raised his head to see Orb hovering a foot away. Orb’s red light largely colored their otherwise dark surroundings, which reminded Peter of the deep water within the abandoned quarry. Wherever they were was dark, murky—far away from natural light.
The centipede finished its march across his hand and disappeared under some leaves. Peter warily lifted his hand and then rolled over, sitting on his rear, to look at Orb and the others.
All involved—except of course, Orb—were slowly recovering. Eli wiped back a tear that had formed at the corner of his eye from a coughing fit and gathered air in long, slow breaths. Jenny sat next to him, her Mexican dress now more soiled than ever, looking stunned. Matt was still rubbing Irene’s back, but she too had regained most of her composure (as much as anyone sitting on a forest floor wearing what appeared to be historical Mexican attire could appear to be composed).
“Where are we, Orb?” Peter croaked.
Orb pulsed, briefly illuminating the dense curtains of trees around them. “We are at our final destination, which sits atop a small mountain in the land now called Costa Rica.”
All of them slowly got to their feet and looked around. The small patch of light that shifted among the tree canopy far above them made it clear that it was daytime, but from their spot on the floor of the forest over a hundred feet below, it seemed very much like the middle of the night. Peter’s eyes continued to adjust to the low light, as well as the amount provided by Orb, when Matt cried out.
“Look at the size of that tree! Is that actually a tree?”
They all turned to look where Matt was pointing and saw a tree trunk so massive that it appeared more like a collection of several large trees. The main trunk, which looked like a series of round trunks fused together, towered over them while the main branches that extended from it sent out an array of smaller, but still massive, limbs with huge clusters of leaves. Many of the larger branches were supported by roots that had descended to the ground and formed new, smaller trunks.
Peter noticed that the tree used these smaller trunks to support the weight of its massive limbs. He took a few steps back, trying in vain to get a little more perspective on what they were looking at, and noticed that the majority of the larger branches extended out to the left as this tree fought with the others around it for the sunlight it needed. The smaller support trunks tracked the larger branches above such that it appeared that the tree was slowly walking.
“Yes, Matt. That is commonly known as a ficus tree.”
Eli thought back to the office of the guidance counselor at their school who kept a skinny, not particularly healthy-looking tree in a pot in her office. When he had asked her about it, she called it a ficus tree.
“Orb,” Eli asked, “I think I’ve seen a ficus tree before, but the trunk was only a half-inch wide and four feet tall.”
Orb uttered his version of a giggle. “There are many different variations, Eli. The local population generically calls this a ficus. In your English language a better name for it is the strangler fig. What you saw in your guidance counselor’s office was a distant cousin of this specimen, which is over 600 years old.”
Orb’s explanation had gone to everyone in the group, several of whom were puzzled by a reference to a guidance counselor. Eli himself was also puzzled, and a little bit angry, before he remembered that, prior to being forbidden, Orb had absorbed all the information in his brain.
“So,” Eli asked, “you have never seen this tree before?”
“No,” Orb agreed. “This strangler fig grew around, and eventually killed, the large roble negro tree that was here before it. That roble negro tree, in turn, had grown out of the decomposing remains of the last strangler fig. Barring interference this cycle will continue indefinitely.”
They gazed at the huge tree before them, the oldest living thing any of them had ever seen (besides Orb, of course).
Peter’s brain had trouble processing what was before him. The trunk was so wide that it seemed more like the side of a mountain than a tree. He stared again at a dark spot between folds of the trunk—a dark spot that appeared to extend back into the tree. A cave within the mountain.
“We’re going inside the tree?”
“Yes, that’s right Peter. Inside is where the trunk of the roble negro once stood, and where my final receptacle sits.”
Peter exchanged a quick look with Eli, then stared at Jenny, who worriedly chewed on a clump of her long hair wedged in the corner of her mouth. Peter looked the other direction and saw Matt and Irene holding hands while they stared at the tree. Irene saw Peter’s look and smiled at him. Peter guessed the smile must be for moral support as there was little to smile about.
“Orb,” Peter asked, “you have said many times that our questions would be answered once we reached our final destination. We are here. I would, please, like the answers.”
“We are not ‘here’ until we enter the tree, Peter. There is nothing keeping us from entering that tree—except your demands. Please enter and I will do my best to answer every question you pose.”
“Orb,” Eli warned, “I don’t think I like you anymore.” Eli looked to the others, who all nodded. “I don’t think any of us like you anymore. We told you to take us home. Instead, you knocked us out and brought us here. You’re not acting like our friend.”
Peter felt a twinge in his stomach. Eli had a habit of speaking his mind regardless of the consequences. They truly did not know who Orb was or what he would do. Openly making him an enemy when they did not even know where they were seemed like a bad idea.
Peter opened his mouth, trying to say something that might take a little bit of the edge off Eli’s worries, when Orb responded in his matter-of-fact way.
“I don’t recall ever saying that we were friends. You need things from me. I require things of all of you.” With that, Orb pulsed briefly and then slowly mo
ved toward the giant trunk of the strangler fig. As Orb drew close the dark space was lit up with red light, exposing a wide, deep space between the folds of the trunk. Orb continued inward until the red light disappeared, and darkness again descended.
They all watched, unmoving. Once Orb and his light had disappeared, they all turned to Peter, as if he would know what to do next.
Peter felt himself blush under their collective stares. He continued to look at the tree, trying to come up with something, anything that might sound intelligent. He had no idea what to do. What options did they have? Walking home did not seem likely. Orb definitely knew what would happen if he entered the tree and left them alone. Debating Orb had been their only option. Without him they were simply stranded in an unknown, remote forest.
His mouth felt very dry. He moved his tongue around, trying to find any saliva that remained.
He had no idea how long he would have continued to stand there had Jenny not asked, “What should we do, Peter?”
Peter tired of the questions. He had no more answers than anyone else in the group. Bartholomew had warned them that they needed to ask more questions of Orb, but every time they tried, something else got in the way—or Orb disappeared to recharge—or both.
He looked to Eli, who rolled his eyes and managed a slight smirk. There was no link between them, but Peter knew that Eli was telling him, “Well, big man, everyone is looking to you for answers—even my girlfriend—but I don’t think you have a clue.”
Peter grimaced, tried unsuccessfully to swallow, and croaked out, “We go in.”
Peter walked toward the tree and the others fell in behind him. As they drew even closer, Peter noticed that the giant limbs extending upwards were coated with what looked like fur. He also saw a small branch that had fallen from far above sitting on ground. Peter slowed for a second and saw that it too was covered in, what from a distance appeared to be fur but was actually a living coating of moss and a large number of very tiny, purple flowers. This tree, which had killed the one inside it, was covered in a living coating of other plants.
The Promise of the Orb Page 15
