“I don’t know where to go from here.”
Geoffrey looked around, “When you get to the next exit turn right. Keep going straight for about an hour. I will show you where to turn there.”
Emily followed the directions. They turned three more times before they were on dirt roads. They traveled deeper and deeper into the desert. If she couldn't get him home, they would die. Emily saw the dry lakebed ahead and pulled the car as close as she could to the mountain. She packed the backpacks. Geoffrey was going to have to carry one. If he didn't, they would not have enough food and water. Geoffrey stood up unsteadily. It was going to be a very long three days.
The walk was even worse than Emily could have prepared. Geoffrey couldn't walk more than ten minutes without having to rest. It would take them a week at this pace to return. She cared for him, hoping at some point he would get better, but he wasn't improving at all. This was the new Geoffrey. The incredibly powerful man she'd met was long gone. As they were climbing a mountain, he stumbled. Emily tried to catch him, but it was too much weight. Both fell hard down the mountain. Immediately, Emily rushed towards him.
She saw he had a nasty cut across his face. She took out a cloth and wiped away the blood, waiting for the wound to heal itself. Nothing happened. She poured a little water on it to see if it would improve. It was happening, but at a pace, that would leave him even more weak before he healed. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.
“Look,” he said.
She looked down at her hand. Her scratched fingers healed before her eyes. She pulled at her pant leg, where she felt the brunt of the fall. The injury was healing. Tears came uncontrollably. She fought so hard to keep Geoffrey alive, but at that moment, she realized his life was basically over. She walked away from him and set up camp. Emily was not ready to give up yet. She didn't want to return to the incredible loneliness that defined her life before Geoffrey.
When she came back, his head had mostly healed. She helped him to his sleeping bag to rest, while she lit a fire. She made some tea and handed Geoffrey a cup. He held it unsteadily, so she helped him drink it. They ate in silence. Emily did not want to discuss the options. She promised she would get him home. Once there, then maybe there was something that could be done to make him better. Once she convinced herself sufficiently, she helped him get ready to sleep, then she set up her sleeping bag next to his, and laid down.
His arms came around her, and he whispered, “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”
“Deal with it,” she replied.
He laughed, “I love you.”
She fought the tears and forced herself to sleep.
TJ56823
Journal 1
Tristan didn't arrive into Cancun in the full glory he initially expected. He was dropped off at a beautiful hotel exhausted, covered in sweat and baby vomit, and overall looking like an absolute undesirable. He waved his new friends goodbye and walked into the lobby with as much arrogance as he could muster. The security immediately followed him to the front desk, but Tristan was a master at this.
He placed a luxury credit card on the counter and said, "I've just had the worse few days of my life. I need a room, some clothes, and a shower."
The security guard shook his head and backed off. The woman at the front desk got to work without too many questions. She made a phone call, and a woman from their boutique arrived, looked him over, and headed back out while he finished at the front desk. The efficiency was terrific. Money did amazing things. When he arrived at his room, a small pile of new clothes, all his size, was sitting on the bed.
He walked into the shower. As he stood in the steamed bathroom drying, he studied his body. There wasn't a single scratch. The bruising from Mexico City was gone entirely. He was absolutely perfect and felt even better. He put on some fresh clothes and looked at his phone that finally had a signal. He thanked whatever God would actually listen to a man like him, and opened his bank app and looked. He had to look several times. Tristan even logged out and logged back in. He was a wealthy man. They had kept their promise. This was going to be fun.
He walked into the lobby and went straight to the ATM. He took out enough cash for an incredible night on the town and headed out to face a decadent tourist city. He found an outdoor mall and did some shopping. He exchanged his hotel clothes for something of real quality. He sent all his purchases, but the clothes he was wearing onto the hotel. They were very accommodating for a price. Then he found a bar with food. He sat in a booth by himself and ordered a scotch and some nibbles he saw on the menu.
When it arrived, he downed the scotch and asked for another one. After three, he realized that nothing was really happening. He was sober. What an annoying side effect! There was no way to numb anything. He negotiated some complicated dialogue with the waiter and was shown to a back room. He bought enough cocaine to kill a man and went through the familiar procedure. Nothing. Damn. He had to find something that would give him a rush. He needed to feel his newfound glory. He was probably the only man who had ever survived a woman like Emily. Tristan was perhaps the only human to have ever gone through what he did and still live to tell the tale.
It was time for a celebration. Tristan stepped out of the backroom and returned to his food. At least the food and the booze tasted wonderful, even if it didn't affect him at all. He sat back in the booth, looking at the bar slowly fill as the afternoon wore on. People drank with a purpose. They were on vacation. They wanted to forget their crappy jobs, their miserable existence for just one week. It was an obsession. A group of men, obviously Americans, were in the midst of a shot competition at the bar. They would be totally wasted within the hour. Two British couples were downing whatever they were downing oblivious to any propriety. There were a few couples and a large multinational group of businessmen taking up a whole corner of the bar. There were no Mexicans. It was not surprising. If he was a local, he would not like to be reminded that the international community used his home as their personal party town. If the situation were reversed anywhere on the planet, it would be there same. It was not that they didn't party, but not with the desperate need for oblivion of the tourist.
He had an idea. Power over other people never failed to give him a rush. He thought of Geoffrey and his cabin. Poor bastard. He finally got the violence. Tristan wanted to feel utterly alive. He went to the bar and spoke to the bartender briefly. The bartender laughed at the request. Then Tristan stood up on a stool with a bottle and knocked on it gently until the bar went silent.
“My friends… I have had a trying day. I thought I died now twice in the last two days. In the last ten days, I have seen things you couldn’t possibly imagine. I even ended up in bed with a fish woman,” Tristan said and waited.
People turned towards him and listened. Some laughed. It was still a show, and they wanted to know where it would end up.
"Really! You don't believe me, do you? She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. It was like witnessing a mermaid, but with legs and you know what." He waited for the awkward laughter. "Three years ago, my brother died."
People got quiet. Tristan knew he had them. It was a rush unlike he'd ever felt. Tristan prided himself in playing in the fringes so that no one would discover his violence. Now he was in the center, and his endorphins were flying. It was a different kind of high. He figured it was probably what a rock star felt playing in a stadium full of sixty thousand people.
"A woman killed him. I tracked her down. I was going to get revenge, but you know, at that final moment, I realized this was not what life was about. Instead, I walked away, a better man. This is who is standing here today in front of all of you. A new man. I was lost. I walked a highway for miles and miles. I thought I would never make it here alive." He waited again, and the crowd was still focused on him.
"A car hit me. I landed on the windshield and the hood. I bounced off into the pavement, sure that I was dead. And then the magic happened…" Tristan held his breat
h and hoped that this would actually work. He grabbed the bottle and broke it against a column. Tequila spread on everyone standing close by. For a moment, he thought he would lose them. And then-
“As I lay on the pavement, I saw magic. True magic.” Tristan grabbed the broken bottle. He pulled up his sleeve, and he cut his skin deep. It hurt like hell, but he couldn’t let it show.
He held up his arm as blood trickled down his arm towards his shoulder. As he felt it run, he also felt it stop. There was a gasp in the crowd. He asked the bartender for a towel and wiped off his arm. There was not even a scar. People cheered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I was touched by God. And to prove how profoundly grateful I am to his divine presence; I am sharing my glory with you today. Bartender? Do you have a name, Sir?” Tristan asked.
"Rafael," he replied, amused.
“Rafael, lovely to meet you. Take this credit card here, Sir, and please fill the glasses of these lovely people here and anyone else who wanders into my celebration for the rest of the night.” The crowd cheered and rushed the bar.
A man called out, “What is your name?”
“Tristan,” he replied.
“Tristan what?”
“Just Tristan for tonight. Tomorrow I might be someone else.” Tristan replied and got down from the chair and returned to his booth. A group of women in their early twenties joined him. This was a kind of rush he could enjoy.
EB26392
Journal 1
Emily and Geoffrey were on day six, crossing the desert. Geoffrey was still alive, but the movement was painfully slow. Their food rations were getting short. She had to get to the gate that day. At least on the other side, there was water easily accessible. From there, the house was only a day or two out. Then Geoffrey could rest. She was sitting on a rock looking out into the endless desert. She felt she was as far from civilization as she could be.
She looked over at Geoffrey, who was sitting on a rock, also looking out. His expression was of nostalgia. He was saying goodbye. She didn’t say anything. They were both exhausted and beyond the fights. She knew he would never change his mind, and she wouldn’t either. The end result would be a stalemate. She wanted to continue up the mountain. Emily was sure the gate was at the top of the mountain. She stood up and held her hand out to Geoffrey, who took it and stood. Emily grabbed his pack and helped him with it. Then she put on her own pack and waited for him to lead. She wanted to make sure she was downhill from him in case he tripped or fell. The falls were more frequent as the exhaustion set.
After a couple of hours, right as the sun was setting on the horizon, they reached the peak. As she got closer, she could immediately feel the difference in the texture of the air. They were getting closer to the gate. Geoffrey stopped as he approached it.
“You have to do the honors. I don’t have it in me to open it.” He said.
“Take my hand,” she answered and grabbed his hand. It felt somehow helpless in her grasp.
She walked forward, focusing all of her mind on Geoffrey’s house. She pictured the land, the house, the river, and even the weird animals she’d seen in her last visit. As she moved into the gate, she felt the ground tremble again. She tried to keep Geoffrey close and looked up at him. He was looking out at the desert with tears in his eyes. He turned to face her and nodded. He was ready, so Emily continued forward. She was so focused on their progress, making sure he wouldn’t fall during the earthquake, there were no images, no visions. It was like walking on the roof of a moving train with a man who was unsteady on his feet. She felt nausea, but it was much gentler than the last few times she had crossed.
When she finally saw she was surrounded by green, she felt the most profound sense of relief. She felt Geoffrey let go and heard him get sick behind her. She immediately turned to attend to him. She helped him clean up and move away from the gate and down the path.
“We can set up camp for the night at the bottom of the mountain. It isn’t far.” She said.
“No,” Geoffrey answered. “I am too weak. The defenses placed will be down. We don’t have the luxury of waiting. We have to walk and figure out how to make it to the house as fast as possible.”
“You can’t make it,” she said.
“I don’t really have a choice. If I get half-eaten, I will stay half-eaten for months in agony. That is good inspiration.” He replied and walked ahead of her down the path.
The sun set, and the two moons came out. There was enough light to see the trail. It didn’t feel as welcoming as it had in the past. It felt terrifying. Geoffrey would stop to catch his breath and continue walking. She trailed behind, aware of every rustling. He stopped and motioned for her to lead. She kept looking around her waiting for something to attack. It couldn’t be more than a couple more hours to walk to the house.
“It is rather useless to look at the ground. I would focus more on the sky,” Geoffrey said.
She looked up at the sky, but because they were within the trees, she could hardly see the sky. She picked up her pace, and immediately slowed it down. Emily knew she was walking ahead to make Geoffrey an easier target. Sometimes he was such a noble, self-sacrificing hero, that she wanted to punch him. Of course, if she hit him, he probably would go down. She continued walking. At last, she saw the silhouette of the house in the distance. It felt comforting. She laughed, and Geoffrey immediately grabbed her arm and asked her to be quiet.
He pointed at the sky, and several somethings were flying in circles in the field next to the house. They were huge, muscular, and obviously predators.
“We won’t make it to the house tonight. If we circle around quietly, we can reach the cabin. It is closer to the woods. We won’t be crossing open ground. If we try that, they will pick us off with ease.” He whispered. “Try to be really, really quiet.”
He took her hand and led her off the path through the woods. It didn’t feel silent. It felt like they were elephants trampling through the brush. Especially, Emily felt like every step she took reverberated through the valley. Geoffrey picked up the pace. She could feel his hands shaking. They were a hundred feet from the cabin when they heard leather wings flapping above them. They looked up and saw one had spotted them and was descending in their direction. Emily tried to run, but Geoffrey held her tight. He froze completely.
The animal landed a few feet away and looked around, sniffing. Emily understood Geoffrey’s actions and held her breath. The animal came within two feet from them. Emily could smell him, and the smell wasn’t pleasant. It smelled of blood and death. The animal took a few more steps and flew off. She felt Geoffrey quietly take a breath. Geoffrey, still grabbing on to her hand, walked even more silently towards the cabin. Emily followed trying to imagine herself invisible.
They reached the door of the cottage and stepped inside. There wasn’t much to the cabin. One room was what Emily always pictured as Geoffrey’s destruction room. She knew the other room contained his journals and files. Geoffrey walked into that room and continued to a side door with the bedroom. She followed him. The bed took up almost the whole place. A small door in the side led to a bathroom. The bathroom had water. Emily took out one of the water bottles and filled it.
Geoffrey had taken off most of his clothes and laid on the bed. Emily took him some water. He drank gratefully.
“Do you need to use the restroom? Do you want to bathe before you sleep?” She asked.
“Do you really plan to spend the rest of eternity caring for a crippled man?”
“Don’t! Not today.” Emily said, taking a bowl she found in the shower and filled it with water. She returned to Geoffrey and, with a small towel, cleaned off the worse of the grime from travel.
“This is not a long-term solution, Emily. God knows I wish now we had more time. I wish it would be different, and you weren’t who you were. This is not who we are, though.” Geoffrey said.
Emily finished her task without speaking to Geoffrey. Then she went and washed off her own body. As Emily stoo
d under the water, grateful to be clean, she thought about Geoffrey. She knew he was right. Emily wasn’t quite ready to give him up. Emily spent her life hoping to have someone, and once she found him, she didn’t want to be alone again. It was selfish. Then she thought of the animals, the finances, the intricacies of travel between the planets. There was so much she didn’t know, and she was sure that it was not written anywhere. There was a chance she wouldn’t survive a week here, much less get to a gate to go elsewhere.
She stepped out of the bathroom and got into bed next to Geoffrey. His eyes were already closed. This was important.
“I have a deal to make with you,” she said quietly.
“I’m listening,” he replied.
“I can’t make it on my own right now, and I need for you to see me just this once, not for what you need, but what it will be for me once you are gone.”
She waited for him to respond, but he didn’t say anything. She shook him.
“Look at me!” Geoffrey opened his eyes and turned to face her. “Geoffrey, what do you see when you see me?”
“I see… I see who you will become. I see a chance to end my own pain. I see – “ He was interrupted.
“That’s not good enough,” she said. “I need more from you. I need you to realize that I am not just a bastard as you call us. I am not some alien genetic experiment from a different planet. I am someone who has lived a life with limitations. You are asking me to become something, but I don’t even know who I am. I don’t know anything about your finances. I kind of know how to run this house, but not well. I have no clue what to do with the monsters waiting for us outside. I have never really had someone, not someone like you. I need you.”
Dance of Life: The Belief Chronicles: Book One (Chronicles of a Planet's End) Page 23
