by Amanda Rose
The humid air encircling Quan worsened the transitioning breathing process. The clouds held on to the sun’s heat, magnifying it. Vince covered himself in a cloak shield against the sun, the muggy heat was uncomfortable. The damp air would stick to his lunges, but Vince tried to forget it all by thinking of his dear, sweet Suako.
Vince kept his distance as he crossed back past Atani, walking along the edge of the great canyon by the mountains. Water used to flow there, as stream lines along the rock walls depicted. It looked like a giant crater, the depth was thousands of feet below him. Gigantic rock pillars swarmed within the canyon; it was exhilarating, yet nerve-wracking, to walk close along the edge of such a massive earthly formation.
The second day into the trip he noticed a military regime marching his way, and Vince quickly hid himself within intertwined rock formations. As he waited an hour for them to slowly pass him by, he wondered what the C.D.F.P. were up to. He took it as their response to their attack of Atani soldiers months ago. Hmm, guess the massacre finally drew the attention of headquarters he assumed. He silently spoke as if he were with everyone travelling to the ruins, “Be careful everyone.”
When he felt the soldiers were safely out of range, he emerged from the rocks, and he started up on his journey again. The sun had risen to its peak in the sky, and the day was virtually cloudless, excluding the smog. He passed by several animals that lay dead on the dry, burnt earth, all appeared to be freshly deceased, without signs of struggle. The heat had finally brought them about to their bitter ends. Vince drank as much of his rationed water as he could to make up for that which he lost threw the paining heat.
The day seemingly had no end. The sun did not cease its onslaught, and Vince now understood why those beasts gave up and died dead in their tracks. Vince set up a tent, unable to endure any longer. Blisters instilled on his feet pulsed painfully with every step he’d taken since he took his leave from his hiding spot near Atani. He’d wait till the sun’s retreat below the horizon before commencing his journey again.
The sun was still unkind within his tent. Vince dragged every tiny breath in, and each scorching breath pricked his lunges like needles threw fabric. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Vince realised just how quickly the earth’s atmosphere was decaying.
“If life is to only offer this, let it offer nothing.”
After regaining consciousness for a third time he knew he needed to stay awake, he had to keep his mind sharp. He took his journal and inkwell from his pack. The heated ink ran quickly from his quill, and the large blots of black stained the page as they dripped. Vince didn’t know what to write after he recorded his C.D.F.P. sighting the day. He looked about the smouldering land of which he lay in, and after a moment, his pen seemed to move by itself:
“Burning heat from an intolerant sun,
Beating down on the vast plains below,
Red earth as far as the eyes can see,
Grand rocks cover this hellish trail.
The hazing sky above,
Magnify the death of light,
And to the dry earth,
We fall weary,
Breathing fire till the final moment,
Where no more breath do we require.
To the last we fight,
Struggle to survive,
To our ends all we desire is to stay alive.
Nothing for days ahead,
The road is bare,
Seemingly repeating its course,
And it need be asked “This, did I already pass?”
Life is scarcely found about,
Air diminished,
Barely existing within this world.
Impeding life,
For which we thank our brethren,
Come from afar with their curse,
A plague on all.”
The sun finally began to dip behind the mountains, and a blanket of a cool refreshing night air soon grazed the earth. But relief soon turned into a new struggle, and the world went from blistering hot to frigid. Only warmth from the smog above gave consolation to the cold. Vince wrapped his cloak tightly about him. The cool air, though tolerable, was no more pleasant.
Seldom beasts would be seen scavenging the lands at night, desperate for food in a barren desert. The chilly night was just as intense as the pounding heat of day, and shelter was essential for survival in the insufferable purgatory. Earthly bounty was nil, it was kill or be killed. They couldn’t live to hunt during the day, yet night brought a fatal fatigue on any roaming creature.
The haze of the smog above blurred the stars. The full moon was a light bulb hidden under sheer fabric. The veil of death differentiated the barrier between their world and those above. It was a symbol, it was their invisible cage. They were all trapped within their own chaotic world, and humans left unable to leave until fixing that mess which they’d perpetrated.
As the night neared its end, Vince noticed the ground turned from solid to cracked, it looked like alligator skin. His blisters tormented him throughout the night. The sky began to turn from indigo to hues of yellow and green and the sun’s light began its ascent. The sky remained clear. Mist began to rise from the ground as celestial warmth ebbed down upon the earth’s surface. The cool dampness of night rose up, and it wasn’t long before Vince could not see far ahead of himself. Heat was gathering, so quickly he perched up his tent, and hid within its sanctity. Long hours would pass before he could travel again.
Before the inferno of the day commenced, the last remnants of the cool air of the desert lulled him off to sleep. Vivid dreams of plush lands filled his head, shaped by the stories of his great grandparents, the world before the C.D.F.P. poisoned it. He’d heard these tales which had been passed down to his parents. He heard of green rolling hills as far as the eye could see; of a sky so crystal clear each individual star could be identified; he heard of beautiful animals grazing pastures; of forests so vast, scented of pine and fresh running water of hot springs. These images that he’d collected, collaborated into numerous images within his artistic head. The world had had so much to offer. All that was left now was waste. Vince’s motivation had always been a question that he desired to prove the answer to be ‘Yes’. The question of ‘Can we reverse the cycle of death that is consuming all?’
Sweet dreams of the lands of old kept Vince in deep sleep, not even the mid-day baking of earth woke him. Late in the afternoon his hungry stomach finally nagged him to rouse. He fed his starving body and watched as the sun once again made its way down the western horizon. As the flushes of colors slowly became faint he prepared for his nightly excursion across the desert.
Though Vince was well rested and energised, the biting chill numbed him quickly. He remembered and old ballad his uncle had taught before he’d passed away. He began to sing to keep himself warm:
“O ’re the hills and mountains high,
Across wide plains where horses tread,
I see the path I must get by,
To get on home and go to bed!”
Vince laughed at the silly little ditty. He thought of his uncle and long days before, and remembered sitting in his tin can of a house, it had been nearly vacant within. He recalled looking through old art diaries of his great grandmother, she had been an incredible talented artist. She’d captured the landscape of her and his uncles time. The colours were grand, the spectrum was exceedingly bright diverse compared to that of the dull world of Vince’s time.
Vince remembered spending the rare days his parents and his uncle could get off of working, listening to stories of life as it once existed. Even his parents lived in better days then that world of which he’d been introduced to. He heard fables of times passed, and from these stories he created a view of the world that was devastated by his first site of the new reality.
He remembered watching his parents and his uncle as they slowly withered away, suffering from exhaustion. The C.D.F.P. work force demanded much, and gave little. They were practically slave-labourers, with no other way
to get by, but they worked their hardest to keep Vince in good health. They saved every penny towards his future, he was their pride and joy, and they intended to leave everything to him. Upon their deaths the C.D.F.P. seized all their assets and auctioned them off for a company fundraiser, under the guide of borrowed wages that would now not be worked off. Vince was left on the streets to fend for himself at the age of eleven.
Vince tried to only remember the good times that were had, though they were poor, they made due. He remembered all of his birthday gifts handcrafted. On the Birthday before his parents passing, his mother had taken paper from the C.D.F.P. building, collected leaves from tree’s malting leaves that blew over onto their grid sector and made him his journal. She used her own hair to create a binding for it; it was Vince most prized treasure. Their hand made items were all he could get from the C.D.F.P., as they couldn’t make any profit off of them. After joining Mack’s Mercenary group, he left his treasures there. Though he carried his mother’s handmade journey and his great grandmother’s art journal with him always, never able to part from the images of what he longed to someday see.
Vince continued to rest during the daylight, and travel during the frigid night; the nights were getting longer as winter approached. Despite the lengthy nights Vince had to stop occasionally, making fire to fight off the frostbite. The trip took him an extra day than he had expected. The south he’d assumed would’ve improved in temperature, though it wasn’t the case.
The last night of travel Vince began to notice frequent tremors of the land. He’d heard of the shaking ground from his Uncle who worked farming to the south east as a young boy before the vegetation became completely blasphemous in comparison to it’s origins. He’d heard of the earthquakes, but they never were explained to be like these ones.
The rattling ground worsened as he neared Kagawa, they were intense, sending him falling over often. The sun was rising as he was reaching the city limits. As day was about to begin, several engine propelled wagons passed him by. He flagged one down, though they weren’t too happy to be held back, a man, women and two young boys stopped, but were impatient to be back on their way.
“Where is everyone going?” Vince asked as he caught his breath. “The earth is acting up like never before. We’re all leaving Kagawa now, you should get out too. It ain’t safe here,” the man said kindly warning him, though he spoke hastily. The woman tapped his shoulder, he eyes urging him to get a move on. “Just one more thing sir,” Vince started, “a friend of mine was in town, she…” The man impatiently interrupted him, “yes, yes, the young traveller that showed up a few months ago. She was staying at the temple. She’s not there… whoa…” The woman was becoming uneasy as another tremor began. Vince fell forward, catching himself on the wagon. They two young boys cuddled up to their mother, the man began to breathe heavily, desiring to leave for his family. “They left a note,” he said quickly. “Thank you sir,” Vince said stepping out of their path. “Best of luck to you sir. That land is cursed. Be careful,” he said speeding away.
When Vince reached the town it was completely vacant, and the ghost town was eerie. The ground looked as if it had begun to slit across the centre of the town. Homes all had broken windows, and one house’s wall had ripped open. Only the stone temple seemed to stand intact. Vince ran to the building; a note was nailed into the door.
“To whom it may concern,
The temple is closed while we go to Okagwa to initiate one with the magickal knowledge of old. Please be patient for our return.
Sincerely, Yu-Lee”
Vince quickly pulled his map from his nap sack, but unfortunately, his map did not extend further east then Kagawa. Vince hit the door out of frustration until it burst open. He walked inside and quickly he saw Suako’s hair comb lying on one of the tables, and went over to it. He knew it was hers for certain; Vince put the delicate comb safely away in his pack. He looked frantically about the temple, and he found a woven map of the entire continent. “Okagwa… where are you?” he muttered to himself as he searched about the map. Finally, he saw it far to the eastern regions of the continent. The journey would take at least two days travel by foot.
Vince scavenged the town for any leftover food and water, and stocked up his pack. Though day was breaking, the tremors were becoming dangerously violent, and he couldn’t risk staying. Vince found a bicycle type contraption left on the dirt- street. He covered his skin as best he could, then using all his willpower, he pedalled as fast as he could. The cracked and brittle ground proved a challenge to cross as it shook.
Fatigue swept over Vince’s entire body; he’d not rested properly before persevering. The fleeing, panic-stricken townsfolk were reason enough for him to move with haste. His legs burned from the bike combined with the heat of day. His adrenaline was pumping, and all Vince could think of was getting to Suako. He tried to distract himself from the inflicting pain by thinking of the first time he met Suako:
“Ouff!” Suako fell backward after running into Vince. Nervous eyes looked up awkwardly at him. “I’m sorry Miss,” he offered her his hand. She hesitated then accepted his offer, and she wiped the dirt from her puffy purple skirt. “No, it was my fault,” she said, slightly dazed by his kindness.
“So where are you headed in such a hurry?” he asked smiling at her. She blushed, and her prior mouse like mannerisms seemed to disappear. “I’m looking for a man named Mack. I heard he lived in the grid system here,” she said. “Who is he?” Vince asked. “He’s the leader of a mercenary group. I’m looking for a job,” she explained. “Do you mind some company?” he asked. Her sweet eyes spoke to him in depth. “I’m an artist, looking for some new places to record. Mercenaries travel a lot, don’t they?” he inquired. Suako smiled, her eyes lit up. “Yeah, they do,” she giggled.
That was they day they met Mack, Mei and Kato, and they both became mercenaries under Mack’s leadership together. They were the two youngest and newest members of the group, so they’d stuck together from early on, like peas in a pod. The mere coincidence of their collision on the road always made him happy. How easily they could’ve missed each other, and he’d have been left on the streets to live, unable to tear down a company that brought his family to an early death. That day he never forgot, Suako’s eyes the moment she smiled he constantly tried to capture within his drawings. It was the one thing he drew often, though he never felt he could perfect it.
Vince did not stop to sleep until the following day. He was exhausted, thirty-six hours straight of travel had finally brought him to need sleep. Though he rested the revolting earth would permit no real sleep. After a few hours rest he pushed forward, and within a few short hours he had Okagwa within his sights.
He rushed to the ruins of the long extinct city; crumbled buildings lined the streets, grey stone, once buildings, lay as rubble on cracked cobblestone streets. Dried vines stuck to the few standing walls that remained. Broken pots with long dead herbs and flowers lay cracked in the streets. Though Vince could not tell what it was, there was a strange strengthening vibration he felt empowered by, within the decay of Okagwa.
Vince rushed through the debris-covered streets as fast as he could. He called out Suako’s name repeatedly and he frantically searched, but heard nothing in return. This had once been a vast city, full of hundreds of thousands of thriving lives. As Vince approached the back of the city he noticed a large courtyard encircled by a large limestone wall, that was somehow still fairly intact. He ran within the gates, and Vince was taken aback by what he saw before him.
It was like the pictures from his great grandmother’s art journal, life was blossoming everywhere. Vines just like those that hung dead about the rotting city behind him, here they were luscious and green within this courtyard. The sun gleamed down, the sky above seemed clear, and the rays did not burn bare skin. Vince had never seen such a sky, and he’d never truly seen the sun without the distorting glare of pollution.
A colorful bounty of bleeding hearts, tu
lips, daffodils, and lavender swayed in the gentle breeze. There were rose bushes all about the garden. Butterflies flew about, chirping birds perched in hawthorn trees, and busy bees drew nectar from the apple blossoms, and golden sunflowers seemed to glow. Tiny shrubs grew round and short along the base of the wall. A fresh water spring lay to the back surrounded by carefully placed moonstone crystals. Hues of blue and rainbows within the stones scintillated. Soon Vince recognised the lack of oxygen dome to foster the plants as well, and he wondered how they could possibly be growing. Dancing cherry blossoms seemed to float off of their trees, before they hit the rich earth beneath him. The brutally shaking ground seemed to have stopped as well.
Logic and reason hit him like a pile of bricks suddenly as the euphoria wore off, and he looked ahead of himself. Suako lay on the plush grass, and a woman in pink garb danced spirals about her. Vince was in a state of shock; he was in the wastelands of the world, yet life flourished freely here. “Suako!” he called as he ran forward. Suako sat up immediately at the sound of his voice, and seemed to come out of trance. “Vince!” she exclaimed as he saw him hurtling toward her.
“Vince, I can’t believe it’s you!” she hopped up and wrapped her arms around him, “this is Yu-Lee…” she began to explain, but Vince cut her off. “There’s no time! We have to leave now!” he interrupted, his voice fiercely serious. “W, What? Why?” Suako asked, stunned. “You’ll see…” He looked over to Yu-Lee, “I’m Vince, nice to meet you. We have to leave now!” he said to Yu-Lee as he took Suako’s arm and began to run forward. He looked one last time back to the garden, then pierced the gate between dimensions back into the real world.
