by Jamie Ott
He rolled over onto his side and stared at their smooth, light yellow shine. They were weapons of war that Manik was sure to be prepared for.
The average demon was as strong as fifty men, one of his brothers told him. After his visit to the fig orchard, his strength had increased, but not that much. Even with divine weapons, would he even have a chance of survival?
And that’s why his fear immobilized him; that’s why he’d been hiding. No matter what advantages the gods said he had, there was no way he could beat a hunter.
Then Jacko remembered something his mother said to him a long time ago. “An angry man is scary but predictable, a scared man is the one you should fear the most.”
She explained this as fear being the only emotion equal to love in power. At the moment of ultimate fear, a man would do extraordinarily, unpredictable things to survive.
Once he was cornered in an alley by a couple guys from school. Joey, Blake, and Young were their names. They were from the poorer part of town, and they were dangerous. Three on one was their favorite game, but Jacko was taller than most kids their age.
When they realized beating down Jacko wasn’t easy, Joey pulled out a red stained, pitted knife. He could tell by the scent that the red was real blood; that he’d used it before.
All he remembered was his heart pounding so hard that he felt it in his stomach. His muscles tensed up so awful that, in a mere moment, his whole body hurt.
He did things he didn’t know he could; things that some would consider hitting below the belt. But mainly, he acted without contemplation, only realizing what he’d done when his primal instinct told him he could have control over his body, now that his enemies were down.
When he’d come to his senses, it was to see that Young was turning blue, with his neck in Jacko’s grip. He released him, immediately.
On the ground, whimpering, Joey’s and Blake’s face was almost unrecognizable, as they were covered in blood. The knife, also bloodied, lay several feet away.
Before that day, he’d never fought, ever, in his life.
The next day at school, both boys had stitches in their faces, yet he still couldn’t exactly remember hurting the boys.
Then he remembered the gods told him that Jove was beaten back so severely, and it was at that moment that he saved the world.
Was that what he looked forward to? Being so physically and emotionally damaged that he’d save the world? As it was, even before his blessing, and after he’d discovered his dead family, he’d had a meltdown that gave him extraordinary strength.
Suddenly, Jacko felt sick. He just didn’t want to think anymore. He rolled onto his belly and tried to sleep.
Over the next few days, the storms got worse and worse. His wonderful bush ceiling had finally broken through with rain, making leaks in several spots. At first, they took advantage of the leaks by gathering much water, as they’d need it for when they made their trek to the summit. But that morning, he was woken by the dripping of rain on his forehead.
After a brief breakfast, Jacko put out the fire and pull down a couple sections of brush and banana leaves.
They were just too beaten and needed to be replaced. He went into the forest, setting up traps along the way, until he found what he needed.
On the way back, he spotted Uncle Bally fishing at the river. He was covered with a gray plastic bag to keep out the rain, which hadn’t stopped drizzling all day.
He was doing better, but his ankle was still too hurt to travel. It was healing so slowly. That didn’t stop him; he did as much as he could to provide. However, Jacko was worried that they might be attacked any day. He just hoped Uncle Bally could handle it. The hunters were known to be excellent trackers. If Oganat could find them, certainly the demons could, too.
“What in the world?” he said, walking down the rocky bank.
There, hanging in the tree, was a line with nearly a dozen fat fish.
“Told ya fishin’ is better in the rain,” he said, taking a sip of whiskey. “I’m gonna need some of that pine needle tea later, though. Think you’d could fix up some?”
“Yes, of course, uncle, but how are we to eat all that?”
“We’ll smoke it. It’ll be great for when we go to the summit. Smoking’s the most important thing a man, who lives off the land, should know. This way, we have plenty of protein, and we won’t have to worry about hunting.”
“Well, guess I’d better get back and finish that brush ceiling.”
“Hold on, I’ll come with you.”
Back at their camp, Jacko immediately got to braiding and entwining his new brush while Uncle Bally cleaned the fish.
After he’d done, Uncle Bally went and put the fish guts in the traps, and returned with a possum.
Upon seeing its mask like face, he said, “I’m not eating that.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” he said. “It’s ugly but it’s good eatin’, believe me.”
Jacko clung to a side of the tree, trying to arrange the banana leaves to slope just right.
“Get down, here. I want to show you how smokin’s done.”
He climbed down, pulled off his wet clothes and wrung them. After hanging them close to the fire, he wrapped up in his sleeping bag and watched.
“Now because we don’t have brine or seasoning, we’re gonna do things a little different. Fish has lots of parasites, so you want to get a hot fire going. For extra smoke, you wanna use some wood chips.”
He pulled a little sack from his pocket.
“These are oak. I don’t recommend pine. You want a good filet, and you want to keep them cold, or smoke them right away. Two different methods for smoking: hot and cold. Today, we’re doing the cold method because it’s rainy and windy, and keeping up this fire is hard enough.”
He threw in the chips and set a twine weaved grill above it. Then he layered the top with banana leaves. When it got nice and smokey, he placed several filets under the leaves.
“We left the skin on to give it some flavor, and especially to keep it moist. Often, people make a mistake, discarding the fatty skin, which is actually pretty good. Now, we wait a few hours.”
Immediately, their camp filled with a delicious scent. It drew animals, for which Jacko kept his bow and arrow at the side, just in case they were attacked.
“Here, take a swig,” he said, handing his shoot of pine needle tea. “You’re shivering, and you don’t need to get sick right now. Don’t worry, I’ll make more.”
Pine needles littered the camp. He swept them into a pile, with his hands. As soon as he’d made more room on the fire, he set the metal can to boil.
Occasionally, they heard shuffling in the bushes.
“Probably just hungry animals. Hard to hunt in this weather. Keep your bow and arrows at the ready though.”
He filled a shoot with tea.
“Whoa, not bad,” he said after taking a sip.
He’d used extra pine this time.
The broth was pungent and tasted just like pine should. It wasn’t sweet but quite tart. He relished the way it warmed his chest. After being cold and wet for a while, it was a relief.
They sipped their drinks awhile, and then Uncle Bally said, “So where did you meet that Oganat fellow?”
“In the red lands.”
He sighed.
“Well, I suppose we should get movin’, here, in a day or so.”
Jacko flicked his eyes at his uncle.
“Really? But your ankle?”
“Yeah, my ankle. Look I know what you’ve been thinking, and so have I. I’ve seen you lookin’ at my ankle, and then getting that worried look on your face. You think that if that fellow found us, how long before the others do?”
“Yes, but we shouldn’t go until you’re ready.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m ready. We hang out too long, and we’ll both be dead, or in worse shape. If we leave now, we can plan a safe trip. One where we can get to the so called summ
it without further injuring me. We can take our time. If we wait and get attacked, and I further get injured, then we got a problem.”
“What do we do about your ankle? Obviously, a summit is gonna have a hefty incline.”
“We’ll wrap my foot with a bit of cloth. I’ll whittle me a hand comfy walking stick.”
“Alright, but let’s leave tomorrow. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
They sat in silence a few moments.
“Do you really think something’s funny about Oganat?”
“Well, sure, but it’s nothing to worry about. In war, there are always traitors; it’s what you do when you find out you’ve been betrayed that matters.”
“Don’t you think it’s wrong, me ducking out on the fight? Do you think I’m a coward?”
“No, I don’t think you’re a coward. You’re not ready to fight in a war. They don’t understand, but you’re just a kid. You need to be kept safe.”
“Why?”
“Because as much as I’ve taught you, let’s face it, there’s more you need to learn. I’ve seen you, not only staring at my leg, but also at the sword and shield, both which you’ve hardly touched. It’s something I can’t teach you, but I bet someone at the summit could.”
Jacko nodded his head in agreement. Sometimes it was like Uncle Bally could read minds.
He was about to speak but was distracted by the sound of something large splattering in his face. Hand sized pieces of ice, fully enflamed, flew into the fire and sizzled out.
He stood up and walked to the edge of their camp.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Uncle Bally half asked and half said, from behind him.
“Yes, and it’s not good. The weather is getting worse, which means the fighting must be getting nastier.”
The ice burned out on the ground, leaving black splotches behind.
“Look at that.”
He pointed across Jacko’s face.
Over in the eastern part of the sky, a blotch of red had colored the sky.
That night, both Jacko and Bally didn’t sleep much. Instead they watch the blotch of red slowly spread across the sky.
By morning, the grey was completely gone.
Uncle Bally got up.
“Well,” he said, pulling a cigarette from his pack. “I guess this is what hell looks like?”
“Yes, it is.”
His uncle set about morning details as usual.
“I think we should leave as soon as possible. The red sky is a sign that the gods are losing. That means the Earth will be crawling with demons, and if we’re here, it’s gonna be bad. We need to get to the summit, quick.”
For the rest of the day, they set to packing up as many essentials as possible. Jacko fashioned an ankle brace and a walking stick out of soft vine.
By the night, they were exhausted.
“I have to admit,” said Uncle Bally, taking a swig of whiskey, “I’m a little afraid.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but you’re not afraid of anything.”
“Boy, don’t be stupid. Of course I feel fear. I’m human; it’s what you do in the face of fear that counts. In our case, we put one foot in front of the other. But I think we should leave in the morning. It’s already dark, which won’t be good. We won’t be able to see good places to camp.”
Jacko concurred. So for one last night, they lay on their cots.
They weren’t down long before a white flash zoomed into their camp, blowing out the ceiling, and leaving a huge hole in the ground where the fire was.
“There here!” shouted Uncle Bally.
Jacko grabbed his packs – as did Uncle Bally, his bow and arrow.
“Take my hand!” he shouted as he ran over to him.
They disappeared into the air right as a black horned demon with red eyes rode into their camp, wailing and shot a beam of antimatter at them.
Garden of Hera
Chapter 8
The crisp air shot daggers in their eyes, through their clothes, and touched every bit of their skin.
Oganat was right: he could feel the summit emanate from somewhere. Almost like it breathed on his skin, but he couldn’t see it.
Uncle Bally was hyperventilating.
“Breathe, uncle, breathe.”
Just as Oganat said, the summit seemed to evade him. Below was a mountain that called to him, yet he was lost as to where, specifically, they should land.
Wanting to get as close to the mount as possible, he continued flying in circles until Uncle Bally started to retch.
Upon touching down, he felt the summit, like it had a heart that beat into him.
“How far is it?”
His uncle, on all fours, breathed hard.
“I’m not sure.”
“Which way do we go?”
He turned around in a circle and said, “That way, toward that peak.”
All around was flat land, but in the distance a mountain loomed all the way up into the cloud layer.
“Oh, Jacko, that’s gotta be a hundred miles. Getting there could take a week, or longer with my ankle. We don’t’ have enough supplies for that, and I’m not counting climbing the actual mountain, either.”
“I can try to get us closer.”
He reached out for his uncle’s arm.
“No.” He yanked his arm away. “I think I’d rather walk, but can we rest first?”
Uncle Bally slowly lowered himself to the ground, where he laid back against a tree trunk.
“We didn’t get any sleep, and it’s still night, might I remind you.”
Jacko made a fire and sat next to him. Together, they looked at the sky which was a burgundy wine color, at the moment. It was strange the way the moon and stars gleamed white against it.
“In a strange way, it’s kind of pretty,” said Uncle Bally.
By morning, the sky turned bright red, like a cherry. After a bit of coffee, they began their trek.
As they made their way through a mile of short, crisp leaved bushes, Jacko noticed an herb like fragrance came from them, almost like basil except fresher and with a bit mint. He’d never smelled nor seen bushes like them before.
Another mile and they approached a small orchard of trees from which the crispest green apples hung. He and Uncle Bally stopped and packed as many as they could.
Like biting into a carrot, a loud crunch noise sounded when he took a bite. Juice that had a light lemon-like tang rushed over his tongue. One thing he knew was apples didn’t taste like that; not where they were from – even the air smelled different, cleaner.
He looked around and wondered aloud, “Where do you suppose we are?”
“Well, if the stories told the truth, isn’t Mount Olympus the summit of the gods? And if so, that means we’re in Greece. Even I know that, Jacko.” He leaned on his staff and pointed at the land to both sides of the mountain. “The highest peak in Greece supposedly borders what used to be Macedonia and Thessaly. Kind of interesting how, here, it’s pure bush, and there, it’s mostly flatlands.”
“Oh, uncle,” he sighed. “I have no idea how we’re gonna get up that mountain. Oganat said to follow the trail, but look at that incline.”
“Don’t worry. I have some knowledge of making rope pulleys. We’ll figure something out. We’ll need to forage and hunt, so we’ll need to break before we actually climb anyway. If we’re forced to climb, we’ll be too tired to hunt along the way.”
The atmosphere, even where they stood was thinner than in California. The temperature was extremely chilly, which actually made the conditions ideal for Uncle Bally’s ankle.
Another strange thing Jacko and his uncle noticed about the forest was that it was too quiet. They neither heard birds nor the random cracking of brush limbs; no patter of animals running away as they approached, followed by the shaking of tree and shrub limbs.
In short, there was n
o sign of other life, and nothing to hunt.
“That’s impossible, Jacko. There’s got to be something here. We just don’t know how to find it is all.”
“I hope you’re right. We can’t live on apples. They’ll dehydrate us, and if we can’t find water, we’re screwed.”
Uncle Bally, who was determined not to be slowed down by his ankle, kept up rather well. Jacko cleared all pathways for him, holding back branches and moving rocks or tree trunks out of the way, when he could.
Finally, it was late afternoon, and they were, both, hot and thirsty.
They nestled in along the ridge of an enormous boulder that jutted out of the ground.
“How does your ankle feel?”
“Surprisingly good, though I regret holding you back.”
“Uncle, you’re doing great,” he said as he got a fire started. “Much better than I thought you would.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid we haven’t even walked more than a few miles. At this rate, it could take longer than I estimated just to get the base of the mountain.”
“That’s alright. I’m happy taking our time. If you think I really want to go to the mount, you’re crazy! I’m sick of this whole god business.”
“It’s more than a boy, your age, should have to handle.”
He pulled out their sleeping bags and food.
That evening, they fed on reheated smoked fish, which Jacko liked very much. Even the fatty skin was too tasty to toss.
The next day was more of the same. They walked and walked, but only covered half a dozen miles before Uncle Bally needed to elevate his ankle. But at about noon, they heard something.
They stopped.
A throaty whistle, like a mating call, came from their left.
“What was that?”
“It sounded like a bird call,” said his uncle.
“Should we check it out?”
“No, we’re making terrible time as it is.”
So they continued on for another mile when they stopped at the sound of a branch breaking and a crackling sound.
They followed the noise to just beyond the brush to their left. Before a small fire, they found a teen boy, no more than fourteen, skinning a black and reddish bird.
He was skinny with blond hair and blue eyes. When he looked up at Jacko, he was struck with a nostalgia so powerful that his knees almost buckled.
