by Tufo, Mark
Zipping through the reaching arms of the beasts are two other hovercraft. They fire their cannons without any effect that I’m able to determine. In the distance are two rising spirals of dark smoke, the markers of the other two vessels that passed through the portal. I search among the numerous creatures for any sign of Mike. The last I saw, he was being held in a tentacle of one of those beasts.
“Trip, where’s Mike?” I ask, unable to find any sign of him being held here.
“He, uh, went home,” Trip replies.
My heart sinks. “What do you mean by ‘he went home’? Is that some sort of euphemism?”
“No, Yack. He went home.”
“Like, to his own world and is with his family kind of went home…or that he went home to meet his maker?”
“With his family,” Trip answers.
A variety of emotions course through me. One is that I’m glad he made it back to his world and family. He deserves that. Another is that I’m jealous that he gets to go and I’m still here. There’s relief that I haven’t arrived too late and found him dead. However, the most prevalent emotion is one of sadness. With Mike leaving this mess and back where he belongs, that means that I won’t see the man again. I found that he became much more than a companion through this whole ordeal, he was a close friend, and believe me, that’s not something I really allowed much in my life. He was a warrior and brother, and I’m let down that I didn’t get to say goodbye.
“You take care, bud,” I say to the air.
My moment to say a mental goodbye and register that he’s gone is cut short. The hovercraft is jarred and sent flying out of control. I stopped paying attention to the situation and allowed one of the tentacles to swat the ship. I attempt to bring the spinning craft under control, but the bluish glass surface comes up quickly. We hit hard and bounce, again coming down to skip along the surface. With each successive hit, I know that the vessel won’t ever again get airborne.
We skid, the sound of tortured metal screeching loudly. It seems to go on forever, but the vessel eventually comes to rest with a final rocking motion. Acrid smoke roils inside and begins to fill the cabin. Without going through a shutdown, I make sure the rear door is open and bound from my seat. Trip is already ahead of me, stumbling for the exit. I come after, taking in a deep gulp of fresh air once we’re clear.
“You need to work on your landings,” Trip says between coughs.
“You’re not kidding,” I reply.
A short distance away, one of the creatures is rolling our way. It’s probably the one who swatted us from the sky coming to finish the job.
“Well, where to?” I ask.
The flat terrain didn’t have any cover and there’s no way I’m fighting that monstrosity with my bare hands. I may have my carbine, but that’s a laughable weapon with what we’re facing. I feel Trip tugging on my shoulder. Turning, I see him pointing.
“We need to head there.”
What I thought to be a terrain that is flat and featureless was only so in three directions. Admittedly, I was a little busy transitioning to flying the craft and then trying to gain control after being swatted out of the air. The third direction features a chasm that runs out of sight in both directions, slicing into the glass-like surface like it was cut with a laser. Two giant pillars rise on this side with a large gate sitting closed between them.
I glance back; the monster that knocked us out of the air is still rolling toward us. How do I convey the method of locomotion with tentacles…. Walking? Slithering? I’m not sure, but it’s coming closer nonetheless. The gate is apparently our only exit, so I bolt for it, half pulling Trip along and sliding to a stop in front of it.
There aren’t any hinges or anything to indicate that’s what it is, but what else could it really be. I notice a slot in the middle. The slot is about as big as the amber orb Mike tossed. Dropping my pack, I pull the object from within. The tentacled beast is nearly upon us as I jam the orb into the slot.
With a loud clang, a thin line appears in the middle of the once seamless gate. Slowly, the gate parts, dropping the orb out of its slot. Keeping an eye on the encroaching monster, I retrieve the item and silently will the door to hurry along. However, with the loud gong-like sound, the other beasts have stopped what they were doing and are all headed our way.
Knowing that the creatures are moving deceptively fast, I scurry through the opening as soon as it’s wide enough. Trip follows. As soon as we’re past, the mysterious gong sounds again and the doors begin to close. This brings the rapidly approaching beasts to a halt. The gate and surrounding structure are taller than the creatures, but I doubt that’d slow them much, should they desire to clamber over. I’m hoping that the noise is a signal that they can halt their pursuit. Before the doors completely close, I note four plumes of dark smoke, each marking the demise of a whistler craft. Even if there are survivors, at least I won’t have to deal with the ships.
Beyond the gate is a short roadway leading to the edge of the massive chasm. Filaments of silver run through the blocks making the road. As the gate closes with yet another ringing gong, those filaments illuminate, the lights racing up the roadway. Once they hit the edge, a bridge begins to form. The constructing span is clear and seems to be made of crystal. It continues to build until it completely crosses the wide gorge that cuts like a line through the bluish glass surface of this world. Beyond, the road again picks up to meander through rolling terrain to a city built on a line of hills.
The city is dark and has a gloom set upon it, like a switch is waiting to be thrown on a miniature Christmas town. From this distance, it looks like most of the structures are built out of marble or some kind of similar stone. Stately buildings rise above the city streets, fronted by colonnaded porticos. On top of a central hill lies a large structure with a domed roof. Set around it are columns of crystal, much like what I saw on the platform in space. All in all, the place looks like an abandoned ancient Roman or Greek city.
Walking to the edge of the crystal bridge, I peer over the edge to stare down at an abyss. Roiling tendrils of fog block any view to the bottom, if there is one. I get the impression that if one were to fall in, it would be an eternity before any bottom was found. I gingerly test my weight on the span to find that it’s solid. I thought it would also be slick, that I’d go shooting across like an out-of-control ice skater, but I’m able to maintain a firm footing.
We start crossing over. I try to avoid looking down through the crystal to the boiling fog of the abyss below. The silver lines that ran through the stones of the roadway also run through the bridge, so I’m able to have some perspective of where the surface lies. I want to ask Trip what the city is all about, but the whole place seems to invite a quiet that I don’t want to break.
On the other side, we start meandering through hills of blue glass. Although nice to look at, my senses can’t quite come to terms with the fact that these aren’t filled with grasses, or shrubs, or trees. This is definitely an alien land.
My mind is focused on the city ahead and what I might find there. It looked abandoned, but that was from a distance. For some reason, I’m not overly worried about just tromping into the place. The orb Mike found somewhere that gained us entrance seems kind of like a hall pass and may tell the creatures of this world that we belong here. At least, that’s the feeling I get.
The city just starts. There’s not the usual sprawl of residences that get closer together the further you get in. There are blue hills and then there are structures built among them. The wide avenues are empty, the buildings give off the feeling that they want to display their brightness but they’re wrapped in a gloom that clings to the city. Columned buildings soar upward to great heights, windows looking out to the streets as if searching for those that once occupied them.
Abandoned cities are just eerie. The senses cry out for the associated noises, the sight of movement. As I walk the streets, I can almost feel the activity that must have gone on here in the past. The gh
osts of those people swirl through the streets and peer out from darkened windows. I wonder what kind of beings lived here. I hesitate to say human but the doors are the right height and width, as are the windows where they’re to be found.
Trip marches ahead, our route always heading uphill. We move past building after building, circling around fountains set in cross-street courtyards. I think my senses would be appeased if we were to startle the occasional flock of doves, hear something rustle within the buildings, or scuttle around a corner. The silence is overwhelming. It’s not oppressive, but there is nonetheless a weight attached to it. There’s something else in the background, not quite seen or heard. A strength and beauty, a peace that drifts through like faint chords. That which could be, if given a chance.
I notice us heading ever toward the large domed structure at the top of the tallest hill. I don’t ask Trip, as this seems right. I know that I should be anxious and more wary considering the history of these strange worlds, but that feeling is swept away the moment I feel it coming on.
Approaching the top of the hill, I notice that the domed building is hollow. Crystal obelisks surround the structure, soaring into the air. An opening in the roof allows a larger crystal spire to tower through the middle of the building, becoming the highest point in all of the city and land.
Before the middle spire is a platform surrounded by steps. Channels cut into the marble of the floor lead away from this raised dais and reach out to each of the other crystals. Without a word, and still carrying the amber orb, I climb the steps, coming to a stop atop the platform. I do this because it seems like the right thing to do. I kind of feel like I’m on autopilot, not really thinking about my actions, but doing them because they’re what I should be doing.
Instead of offering the stone to the crystal pillar in front, I turn and see that Trip is standing at the bottom. In a raised hand, he’s holding the relic. Golden light forms in the circle of the ankh and a beam of light shoots out, connecting with the orb in my hands. I’m suddenly surrounded in a golden glow, barely able to see due to the brightness, even though it doesn’t hurt my eyes.
The glow expands, flowing down the steps. My soul is warmed beyond anything I’ve ever felt and my troubles forgotten. The golden light hits the channels and fills them, running toward the crystal spires. Even though it’s difficult to see, I sense, all of what is transpiring around me. It’s difficult to tell if that which fills the channels is pure gold or solid light, but where it flows, the darkness is lifted.
As the light reaches the crystals, it fills them with its golden hue. Intense golden light then streaks from the pointed tops, hitting the central pillar. Twenty-four beams, one from each spire, fill the towering one behind where I stand. With a whoosh like a hundred waves all crashing at once, a thick beam of gold sails upward out of sight.
The peace within is replaced by a feeling of sadness. I feel that I’ve reached the end of the road and wish Mike were here to share in it. Having endured the hardships as well, he deserves to witness and feel what I’m feeling. Besides, he’s my friend, and it would be nice to complete the journey together.
Below, a figure steps out from each of the twenty-four pillars, standing with arms raised. If it weren’t for their blazing blue eyes, I’d say they were human. Pure snowy hair and beards flow down white gowns. Still attuned to my senses, I feel another step out from the central spire. The sight of the man confirms this as he walks up to Trip.
“Thank you, Traveler. You have found and released us from our prison. The worlds can now again be set right.”
“I had help,” Trip replies, his intense eyes again holding the sanity that he seldom portrayed.
“Of that, we are aware. But they must not be allowed to retain the memories of their journeys.”
Turning toward me, the being with the blazing sky-blue eyes says, “I thank you, mortal. Your deeds and that of your companions shall not be forgotten.”
Other creatures sail out from the pillars of light, sweeping over the city. Wherever they fly, the gloom fades. The brilliance of the structures emerges from within shadow to beam in unseen sunlight.
The light imbues me again, washing away any sadness or depression.
I feel as if each of my molecules is leaving my body to join with the light streaming upward. It’s as if I’m one with the light, and the light is one with me. My body is spread over infinite reaches, yet still retains its shape. All around me is gold light, yet that light is also my body.
I know that I may never see my friend, may never see Trip, or any of the others who walked beside me for some of the paths I trod. They will be forever gone from my life, not residing even as a memory. Kalandar, my doppleganger, Otter, the Lynns of the various worlds, the kids who are not my kids. I will miss the talks Mike and I had during our moments when a brief peace settled over us. The laughs and dangers we shared. Those experiences will vanish into nothing, perhaps to be remembered by others.
“Take care, Mike. I wish nothing but the best for you, my fellow warrior and brother. May your journeys be filled with the warmth of the sun on your face and the wind at your back.”
I know that I’m leaving this place, departing the worlds where we were thrust. But, with the true Creators returned, it is a place of healing rather than destruction. I have no idea whether new Travelers will be created, but those worlds are not part of me anymore. The whistlers will be locked away, along with their masters. I can only hope that the overseers and enforcers can merge again with the new travelers to provide balance. I leave believing this to be true.
“Jack,” I hear a voice call, coming from all around and inside of me at the same time.
It’s the same voice that has whispered in my ear several times.
“I cannot take you back to the same time as when you left, and for that I am deeply and truly sorry. Time has moved on in that world. But, I am sending you home.”
Those words send a wave of joy and happiness through me that can’t be described. I’m going to see my family again.
“I leave you with this before you go. Take it when you get back to your world.”
I feel something pressed into my hand and then the golden light vanishes.
15
Aftermath – Mike Journal Entry 7
“Dyed!” Trip shouted.
I was groggy as fallen bricks were pulled off my body.
“Shit, LT, thought we lost you there for a minute. Don’t move…got a feeling you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs,” my sergeant and squad medic, Winters, said.
“Dyed eggs are way better than regular ones, don’t you agree?” Trip was next to me. He looked pleased as punch, eating a blue hard-boiled egg.
“Lieutenant, do not move. I’ve got some morphine in the Hummer, going to give you a shot before we head out. Understood?”
I didn’t even nod, just existing hurt.
“What happened, Trip?”
“You still remember? That’s strange.” He was looking quizzically at me. “That won’t last long.”
“Jack, BT, Bob, Church…what happened to them?”
“There will always be sacrifices in war, Ponch.”
My heart sank, some of the most valiant warriors I had ever fought with had fallen.
“Not in vain.” Trip must have been able to pick up on my grief. “We won; we stopped them.” He was thinking, “For now, for a long, long now.”
I didn’t know how you could have a long, long now, and I didn’t care. I was grasping at the memories of everything that I think happened, but it was getting difficult, slippery even, like an extremely vivid dream that you want to ruminate on, but with each thought upon it, you lose another piece. And then it all faded to nothing as Winters sank the hypodermic deep into my thigh.
“Got any more?” I heard Trip ask just as I went to chase the dragon.
About Mark Tufo
Mark Tufo was born in Boston Massachusetts. He attended UMASS Amherst where he obtained a BA and later joined the US M
arine Corp. He was stationed in Parris Island SC, Twenty Nine Palms CA and Kaneohe Bay Hawaii. After his tour he went into the Human Resources field with a worldwide financial institution and has gone back to college at CTU to complete his masters.
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He has written the Indian Hill trilogy with the first Indian Hill - Encounters being published for the Amazon Kindle in July 2009. He has since written the Zombie Fallout series and is working on a new zombie book.
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He lives in Maine with his wife, three kids and two English bulldogs. Visit him at marktufo.com or http://zombiefallout.blogspot.com/ or http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mark-Tufo/133954330009843 for news on his next two installments of the Indian Hill trilogy and upcoming installments of the Zombie Fallout series.
I love hearing from readers, you can reach me at:
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email
[email protected]
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website
www.marktufo.com
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Facebook
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Twitter
@zombiefallout
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All books are available in audio version at Audible.com or itunes.
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All books are available in print at Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com
