For a moment she thought of telling him that she was not the sole survivor of the land. The Fisherman ... but was he just of her fancy? No knife, no shirt, nothing left from him except perhaps a delusion she conjured for companionship? And so she spoke of the only thing she knew for certain.
“And as I say again,” she said, wishing she had more to give him, “I do not know. I do not remember. I am here with you now and that is all I can tell you.”
Nodding, he desired more but knew that it was the most he could ask for. All he could truly ask for was for this wild one to simply walk by his side. And never one should remiss the small treasures that the world now granted, for they were truly far and few in-between. And Nyx was a gift to him. In her freedom. In her careless unbound spirit. So similar to the creatures that mankind had become in their lack of inhibitions, but yet so unlike them. She was the breath of fresh air that had been restrained for so long.
Even if an unsung Trojan Horse awaited deep within.
“Where do we go now if not to Thalassic?” she asked.
“We were deployed to come to land and to see how far the disease had polluted this world, if the Chaots had replaced humankind in its entirety or destroyed themselves. And to understand if there will again be a day where we can walk this surface without threat. We would like to find a cure, or at least come across a clue as to how to reverse the effects. The last Intel tells of an effort here, secluded on this island of Acadia to counteract the disease. Optimistically the research compound contains answers for the future of humanity and where we now go.”
A pause. He took a sidelong glance at her. Long hair brushed her sides in such carelessness; she seemed more desperate to feel the breezes that meandered the trees than to understand his story. He noticed that her boots were off; her feet reveling in the moss and forest grasses. Leander could not help but smile at her spirit. However, another part of him wondered if indeed she did escape the prion in the days of Armageddon considering her unconventional ways. That thought dissipated as abruptly as it had come; no one could survive even partially the contaminates.
“I have skepticism after seeing what had become of man. How does one repair what is now in such disarray? A cure in a vial is what is hoped, but in reality seems impossible judging the damage done to the brain. We hope the Chaots’ behavior is not caused by an irreparable ruin of the tissue, but instead it is a blockage or pressure that can be relieved ... gods only know. We could not study the disease first hand, and only have the intel initially sent to us.”
His talk of immunity was just a pipe dream, he knew this truth, knowing the epidemiology of the disease. No one was immune for prions took what was present in every human, PrP which is a healthy cellular prion protein, and taught these proteins themselves to misfold. Prion diseases are incurable and not treatable. No one escaped its wrath.
A branch clawed at him as he shoved it back. The forest was an encumbrance to him, yet one welcomed. Living in the confines of an underwater base and remaining sane seemed a conundrum. How long can one go untouched by the wind and sun and still want to live? It was why the risk to venture the land was necessary in his mind. The Thalassic could only last so long below the waters before giving way to its own mayhem.
Nyx remained silent at his story, waiting for him to continue. For moments only footsteps were heard as they hiked forward in search of the research facility which may, or may not, hold the salvation to a civilization lost.
“Many of the Thalassic were adamant that we remain below. I see that as giving up. I cannot do that.”
“I understand. To sit and wait for death to come is already death,” she said.
“Yes. I was therefore issued several soldiers in hopes to find a way for humanity to reclaim our land.”
“Issued?” A voice hearty within cheer called from the background, one obviously eavesdropping. It was Dio, coming up from behind. “No one issues me. I believed that I joined this suicide quest of yours with open arms, boy.”
“Ha, that you did Dio,” Leander said, welcoming the interruption. To talk about their troubles, and a quest that had yet to carve a ray of hope in the dreary skies, presented a forlorn mission. Yet Dio always offered a good laugh to even the most discouraging of journeys.
Increasing his pace, Dio joined Leander and Nyx. He reminded her of the Greek god Dionysus; his demeanor akin to one who would rather fulfill his desires of merriment than war. If only he could do as the god could and control the maenadic feasts of chaos.
“Don’t listen to this one’s duty driven mumbo jumbo. Truth is we aren’t supposed to be surface side,” Dio said. Leander narrowed his eyes not wanting their disobedience of commands to be such public knowledge, but did not impede the confessions of his cohort.
“We left the Thalassic undermining the system,” Dio continued, ignoring Leander’s expression. “Admiral Telphousian lacked any spine to issue such commands herself. She wanted safety for the Thalassic—but nothing more. We could not wait in our safe haven when families were suffering above, people whose fate were unknown to us.” A crack in Dio’s voice when he mentioned families caused her to wonder if he had many loved ones who had died during the pandemic. Yet his tone returned to a quick witted cannon as he continued spewing forth facts Leander probably did not wish her to hear.
“Of course our heads might be had by the Admiral upon our return; who knows what she will charge us with. Treason? Mutiny? But hell with her if we bring back something grand. Some hope that we can come topside. Better yet, some hope that we can save the infected. Hence, Leander acted despite the politicians and their two-faced schemes, and gleaned himself our cozy squadron here of the righteous, not so law abidingly fit, soldiers.” A laugh turned sour as Dio glanced ahead to make sure the fourth soldier was not in audible range. “Megaira though, be careful of her. She is only in it for the action. I don’t think she likes you, and that’s an understatement.”
“No,” Leander cut in, “she does not mean any harm. And it’s more than action she seeks.” He said no more in explanation as he glanced ahead—not seeing, but knowing both Megaira and Hector were at the lead. Even though she had not yet spoken with Megaira, Dio’s caution only served to rouse her curiosity. Though what truly piqued her intrigue was the esoteric guise of Hector. He spoke only when called for. His actions unambiguous but unconventional. She had thought Hector would be the first to kill her if she became contagious, duty trumping anything else. Yet he surprised her when he had pledged he would not harm her.
“And Hector ...?”
“Fearless and unwavering,” Leander said, “Hector would sacrifice himself without question in the line of duty. Not like us, who are soldiers in the face of this conflict but little more. He is one who has lived and breathed battle during his entire life.”
He stopped abruptly—not wishing—or perhaps unable to go on. His features grew disconcerted, making his boyish face look older than he truly was. The rest of Hector’s riddle was left uncoded and unsaid. His life seemed it would always be an enigma as puzzling as the Fisherman had been.
“And Dio overstates,” Leander continued, changing the subject, “and embellishes our disloyalty of the Thalassic. We are not insurgents looking to revolt. We act for the best interests of humanity as a whole: that is our mission and in that we will not falter.”
Chapter Seven
Night fell. It was dangerous to stay idle, yet continuing in the dark presented its own risks. Not only would the soldiers miss any indications of the laboratory, but they would be more vulnerable to the dangers of the forests and the Chaots. The Chaots posed a threat more dangerous than the predators of nature for they were not motivated by the instinct to feed alone. They had moved beyond the natural world of survival into the perverted, beyond genetics into the synthetically risen. This made the Chaots capricious, unconventional killers, hence by far the most threatening.
The Chaots’ behavior was also unknown, whether they hunted at night or day, in a group or alone. F
rom what Nyx perceived thus far of the infected, she saw a myriad of variations, and night time offered no safe haven. She suspected that not all the Chaots would rest during the night. And, at least with a camp, they could monitor the circumference and provide security.
Precautions had to be taken. They set up a perimeter of trip wires around the camp. The technology constituted lasers rather than physical cables. Invisible to the eye, if triggered by an interrupted beam it would alert the soldiers to take immediate action. The tents were composed of mosquito nets that rested over the low laying branches. Summer allowed them to go without sleeping bags, though come autumn the chill of the Northeast would have made it unbearable. The warmth was on the soldier’s side, for the luggage of genuine tents and sleeping bags posed difficulty in a scenario of attack. In an additional defensive measure, one soldier would stand sentinel over the camp, rotating out every two hours.
Hector watched first. He headed off with vigilance after the camp and security were established. Nyx found comfort in the belief that nothing would get pass the warrior. A fire would be too risky to ignite; it would attract the Chaots like moths to a flame. Therefore, they chewed pre-cooked freeze-dried rations in hungry silence. She abhorred the taste, her last meal being vivid in her mind. If only she could go back to the sea to delight in freshly caught fish—to eat meat immediately after the kill. If only the ocean air replaced the heat, the salty winds caught thick in her hair and not the damp sweat of the humidity now present. But still she threw some of her meal to within the forest in hopes the falcon of the beach would find it and share in her fare, though as she did this the others looked strangely at her ritual.
Food finished, the four sat around in the darkness. They knew that they should rest but the adrenaline running through them would not allow it. Leander sat next to her, only a few inches between them. His inner conscious hoping that proximity would somehow anchor Nyx, but that was not the only motivation. She captivated him; the siren whispered such mystery in her sweet but undecipherable behavior. Shifting on the rock-covered ground, his arm brushed hers. Her skin cool to his warmth. She did not pull away, and he took a small delight in that before chastising himself for behaving as a schoolboy. It was wartime; he should not be so heedless in his emotions. But when her eyes caught his, he could not help but be lost in them.
Dio was the first to break the peace, his voice a low hum over the distant winds. Tone deep, for it was a tale he wove for them to listen, and not interrupt.
“My ancestors were native to this area—the Wabanakis—the Dawn Land People. How much I have of our beliefs and blood left is trivial. It has been a long time which I have sought to find comfort in their mythos. But now in the face of the Armageddon, I look back to my own blood to find reason in the world.”
“The Dawn Land people,” Dio continued, “believed in harmony between animal and mankind, that in turn led to harmony in the universe. In the hunt we did not choose to kill, but the animal chose to give itself to us. There was no good or evil in our life at the heart of it, for evil cannot be tied to actions nor to people. And now there are Chaots. Some would say they are evil, but I instead turn to what is left of my heritage.”
“They are evil, Dio,” Megaira interrupted, disbelief in hearing him, out of all people, calling the Chaots a non-malignant presence. “Look what they have done.”
“Everyone has two sides,” Dio said, trying to shed some light of the Wabanaki beliefs to them. “Even the Wabanaki creator Koluskap had a twin brother, Malsom, to counteract his benevolence. And in each of us lays both a Koluskap and Malsom in our conscience—in each of us is a two-headed monster. And the Chaot is Malsom finally showing his face.”
The tale fascinated Nyx, Koluskap and Malsom coming together to form a tapestry similar to her own story. It was as if two forces contradicted inside her. One wished the incorruptible feel of nature. One desired a darker need. When she had attacked the tree-climbing Chaot, she felt—pure and simply—good. To feel his skull smash, the blood spray upon her skin, released her. And previously along the shore fishing, this galvanized her need to hunt more, though not just for fish. She needed a challenge to satisfy a craving she could not yet identify. But she could not speak of her dark half to the soldiers. To speak of her own Malsom, would mean their mistrust and possibly her death. They believed her to be harmless; if she should shatter this image, she was not sure what would come. And right now she did not wish to leave the soldiers, for she needed them. Not necessarily for protection, but a more innate pull: she needed the Thalassicians to gain understanding of her own place. The more she was around the humans, the more she understood what set her apart.
“So Malsom is evil then?” Nyx questioned, but in truth she understood. There was more than good and evil, something greater than the two that could be achieved. She also spoke in hope of absolution for her own dark half. If Malsom was not evil to Dio, perhaps neither would she be.
“No, not in our terms,” he answered. “Remember evil in the Wabanaki culture cannot be attributed to people. We are balanced in order for harmony to ultimately exist. And that is who the Chaots are to me; not evil, no matter what they have taken away from us.”
Shadows played upon his face as he spoke. He looked between each of them, seeing what he could of his comrades through the forested night, before drawing in one breath and speaking again. It was as if he did not tell the tale, but his ancestors rose from their graves in his inhale, and spoke through his exhale. “You see, in the beginning there was only the forest and sea. Animals and people were created to live in consonance. However, humans began to take advantage of their environment, exploiting both the hunt and the animal. And so finally the Chaots were created from the dissonance—not a horror spawned from hell, but as a savior to somehow find the equilibrium again between nature and people.”
“That’s bull,” Megaira said, shaking her head. She leaned back, looking towards the heavens in order to abandon whatever heresy he tried to throw at her—after all she knew he would fight by her side come tomorrow, no matter his outlandish take on the Chaots.
“And is what you believe any closer to your truth?” Dio questioned.
“Most beliefs do share common threads,” Leander said, almost acting as a referee between the two. As captain, he could not afford to have too much conflict split the soldiers. “At the basis of all myths are the monsters. If they were not present, heroes could never arise. The Greek heroes developed because of the monsters, not in spite of it. And even though they lack the supernatural form, monsters are present in the Christian religion too: Jesus needed Judas to betray him in order to be crucified; therefore, he could demonstrate immortality by rising from the dead. Judas is the monster needed for the hero to achieve his ultimate destiny.”
“Yes, and because of that, monsters cannot truly be seen as evil. Rather, they are liberators in and of themselves, allowing the hero to transcend the common path,” Dio said, despite Megaira’s breath of annoyance.
“If it were a god,” Megaira said, “I believe they brought this disease to us in retribution not in salvation nor liberation. There is nothing good to come from this; we have damned ourselves and will never return to what was.”
“Now we again live in the time of myths and legend,” Nyx said in accordance, “where satyrs rule the forests.”
Megaira looked at her; it was not as before, not with a stare that identified Nyx as the enemy or a hindering object. But human to human, though Nyx would not go as far to say she saw friendship. But possibility for more manifested.
“And where Nymphs roam free,” Leander whispered, finding it difficult not to look at Nyx as he spoke. A smile hinted on her lips as she caught his gaze. He smiled back, shyness in his charm, but then immediately looked away as if ashamed he should find happiness when so many were suffering. Clearing his thoughts back into rationale, he spoke, “The Chaots fundamentally are not some god’s vengeance poured from the skies down upon us. Remember, it was humanity that had en
gaged in biological warfare. At the heart of it, we are responsible for our own fate.”
“What was the war about,” Nyx asked.
“The war was ultimately political in nature,” Dio said. “The Bavarian Coalition desired a worldwide government under a single group rule claiming to bring about peace. Not everyone agreed, believing the intentions of the Coalition were not so selfless, and so the Uprising formed. The Coalition attacked the Uprising, hoping biological warfare would end things quietly, but it got out of control to say the least.”
“Whatever the cause,” Leander said, “the issue now is if we can overcome the monster set before us. If we can transcend our mortality and become the heroes.”
The four sat in silence for a time, wondering if the last remnants of humankind could rise above the challenge. Years from now, Nyx wondered, would the Chaots be a myth that is told around the campfire: the Chaots portrayed as fanciful as monsters. The Thalassic soldiers, depicted as the heroes, slaying the Chaot. Though what would happen if it were the Chaots who won—would the soldiers then become the legendary monsters? Gazing upward, she looked toward those heroes that had been painted in the stars, wishing that the legends of old could guide her in her own challenges.
The stars shimmered with an exuberance lost since long ago. It had been eons since the stars encompassed such formidable wonder and fascination in their breadth, for the sky had been polluted previously by man-made light. Now electricity died, alongside those who had harnessed it, causing the rebirth of beauty in the night sky. With the absence of city lights, the stars regained their ancient splendor. For the first time, Nyx and the soldiers could see what their ancestors saw. Details glowed in the galaxies; brushstrokes painted in starlight illustrated the conquests of heroes, gods, and monsters.
Leander pointed out a constellation to her. He had known of these stars solely on star charts for they had been too dim to see in the pre-apocalypse world and impossible in the undersea environment he endured the last several years. He had embodied the H. Hanson quote that ‘we are just mollusks, shut up tight at the bottom of a dark, cold ocean trying to make sense of stars we cannot even see’. With clear excitement and pleasure, he now could see those stars, even if the rest of the unseen web remains unseen. He showed her the constellation of the dragon Draco, and then the neighboring five star Lyra.
Crashing Tides Page 7