by Eve Langlais
He sat down, legs dangling, and took a moment just to soak it in. He breathed, the freshest air he could recall without a single hint of smoke. Nothing putrid at all. It proved a novelty to see what the world could look like without industrialization. Fluffy green treetops, instead of sooty chimney stacks. A dense foliage, as opposed to partitioned blocks and streets. Color versus the gray he’d gotten used to.
Ignoring the valley for a moment, he glanced overhead and saw the mountains extending to the left and right of him, and while he couldn’t completely see across the vast valley, he imagined they circled around, giant and impassable. The ridges went even higher than the clouds, which swirled as if caught in a vortex, the speed of it forming a barrier that kept the smog from covering the sky, allowing this one place, perhaps the only place in the world, to still see the sun.
Not a brave and weak ray of it, but full sunshine. He closed his eyes as it kissed his face. The warmth of it pleased. He could have sworn he felt his skin soaking it in, feeding on its rays. It took the noise of a bird to rouse him. Glancing away from the sun, he glanced once more at the valley thriving with life.
Looking out over the massive forest, it almost brought a tear to realize no matter what happened in the rest of the world, at least this part, this untouched place, would survive.
He didn’t recognize the trees growing in this place with their pillowy tops. His gaze tracked over them, noticing the birds darting in and out of the branches, their plumage bright, the cries quite raucous. Several of them perched upon a jutting spire…
Wait. What?
His stare narrowed in on a hump projecting from the tress. Some kind of rocky spine, being used as a roost or…
He didn’t even dare think it. Surely he’d not found some ancient ruin. Not a man given to flights of fancy, he attempted to convince himself it was just a tiny hill as he began searching for a way down to the valley floor. Not an easy task. While not sheer like the other side, the mountain wall didn’t exactly have a path. His time spent climbing came to good use as he threaded a trail to the ground, relying on the right foot and hand holds. Gasping more than once when a limb slipped.
Almost there.
An excited whisper that seemed to flit through the very trees on a warm breeze. Quite warm as a matter of fact. He shed some layers, stuffing the clothing into his pack. By the time he reached the ground, he wore only a simple sleeveless shirt and his pants. The paleness of his limbs appeared unhealthy in this environment. It also burned.
Before long, his virgin skin turned a pink in the sun and then, before he’d reached shade, an alarming hue of red. Just when he thought he might start getting crisp, he hit foliage.
The vibrant plant life grew right to the edge of the mountain and even partway up it. It made the climbing easier, and soon he stood inside the forest. He traced his fingers over the bark of the trees, flicked a few vivid green leaves.
The smell of everything overwhelmed. The colors hurt the retinas.
But he’d never been happier. As he went to choose a direction, he noticed a long-tailed creature sitting on a bough watching him with curiosity. Before he’d even made the conscious decision, his rock was flying, and he’d caught himself some dinner.
Since he didn’t want to waste time, he bled out his catch and then strung it over his shoulder before he set off into the forest, no clear path in sight. Down below the canopy, he had no idea the direction of the spire. He spun around often, distracted by the call of birds, the rustle of branches, and the buzz of insects.
The distinctive babble of water over rock gave him a goal, and he hurried. His thirst suddenly a thing of urgency. When he hit the stream, he dropped to his knees on the damp pebbled shore and scooped the water. He gulped the cool, clean, and fresh liquid until he could drink no more. Then filled his canteen before stripping completely and hitting the waters.
He emerged with an exuberant bellow, which ended in a cough. A rough one that had him kneeling on the pebbled shore, and when done, he noticed the spot of blood.
No. Not yet. Not when he was so close.
You must hurry.
Scrambling from the river’s edge, he barely dried himself off before putting on his clothes. He then shaved a sliver of metal from the cog and placed it on his tongue, before tackling his next dilemma. The problem being he had no idea what direction to go in.
He could try climbing a tree. He eyed the rough trunk of one with its high branches and decided to just pick a direction and go. Surely he’d find a sign.
Under the jungle canopy, indications that the world still had a hope flourished, from the annoying insects that nibbled his skin to the slithering of snakes gone extinct on the other side of the mountains more than a decade ago. He heard distant roars. The strange shrieking cries of something unknown. While his gun remained holstered, he held tight to his knife. Would it protect him against something bigger than a dread rat with determined teeth?
He moved through the jungle, so many noises to distract him. When night fell, he didn’t dare keep moving. Jool tucked inside the hollowed bole of a tree, long fallen in the jungle. The moldy cushion of leaves provided a bed. But he couldn’t sleep.
He’d gone from almost pure silence, broken only by the whistle of wind, to the buzz of insects, the roar of beasts, and the fearful pounding of his heart. Was this how every intrepid explorer felt?
It made him think of Niimmo. The male obviously hadn’t found this place, or he would never leave it. Heck, if it weren’t for Onaria needing him, Jool would stay here. Once he found a cure for her, he’d fetch her, and together they’d return to live in this verdant paradise.
He didn’t allow himself to wonder how he’d return with the mountain face he’d climbed wiped clean. There would be another path to the outside. And he’d find it.
Determined, Jool began trekking again as soon as dawn hit. He’d not gone far when something slammed into him. A beak pecked at the back of his head. He reached for the bird that chose him for breakfast and pulled. It gave easier than expected and swung forward into a tree hard enough to stun it, and then he wrung its neck. And that easily, he’d fed himself twice since arriving. Either he was getting really good at the survival part of this trip, or even someone inept like him could catch something when game was plentiful.
His scuffle with the bird left him turned around. “Which way was I going?” he muttered aloud, trying to orient himself but having a hard time without any true visual markers.
That way.
More a gut feeling than anything else, yet he had no better idea. He walked until he got hungry again and had begun looking for a spot to camp when he heard someone yell, “Damn it!”
The voice, after days of no one but himself muttering aloud, took him by surprise.
“Hello?” he queried, wondering if he hallucinated.
There was a reply. “Jool, is that you? I’m over here.”
It appeared Niimmo had shadowed Jool. Or known about this place the entire time.
No wonder he didn’t want me to follow.
Did he call out to Jool as part of a trap?
Ignore him.
A part of him wanted to, but at the same time, being alone proved harder than expected.
“Where are you?”
“Over here. Caught in some kind of web.”
A web? The choice of words seemed odd, but he didn’t mull them overly long as he traced a path through the woods, following the man’s voice. He entered a clearing strung with something gray and filmy. Like tattered fabric strung between the branches of the trees and thick bundles dangling from the highest boughs.
Including one that wiggled and hollered. “Help me get down.”
Jool instead spent a moment gaping. “What happened to you?”
“I accidentally crossed through an arachnid trap.”
“How am I supposed to rescue you?” He reached out to touch the web, only to snatch his hand back with difficulty as the stuff tried to stick to him.
/> “You need to burn it.”
That took a moment to register. “Start a fire in a forest while we’re in it?” Even he could see the problem with that plan.
“Do you have a better plan to weaken the web enough to drop me?”
“Actually, I might.” He pulled out a rock, a round one, and tossed it. Missed the tether on Niimmo’s cocoon completely.
“I’d like to get down before the spider returns to eat me,” drawled the man.
Jool pulled forth a new rock, another round one, drew back his arm, and aimed a little left this time, accounting for the slight breeze. It hit the strand and bounced.
Off Niimmo’s head.
That earned him a few choice words. None of them polite.
The next rock he pulled had a flat edge. He whipped it and cheered when it severed several strands. Not anywhere close enough to dump Niimmo.
This would take forever. He pulled his knife and aimed it.
Niimmo’s brows rose. “I’d rather be set on fire.”
“I can do this.” Never mind the fact he’d never hit a target yet. Then again, that might reassure Niimmo.
The blade left his hand, spinning over and over, listing a little to the left and low. He screamed, “Duck!” as the knife swept through a little close to Niimmo’s tucked head.
It caught in the webbing.
The cocoon still dangled.
“Dammit.” He rubbed his chin. “Try kicking your feet. Maybe it will help wiggle the knife.”
The bundle began to jiggle.
“That’s it. Harder.”
“That’s not me, you idiot,” yelled Niimmo.
The reason became apparent a moment later. Jool stared. Yelled too. “Spider!”
Stepping daintily through the web overhead, he beheld a monster. Literally. Half as tall as him, with too many legs for him to count. It dropped down, spinning to the ground from a single solid strand. It stood on all its legs and stared, its many-faceted eyes all reflecting his presence. The mandibles on either side of its mouth opened and shut, clicking. He was pretty sure that was the arachnid version of licking its lips.
“What do I do?” Because he wasn’t getting anywhere near those pinchers.
“Chop its legs then stab it in the gut.”
“With what?” He might have wasted more time asking questions if the thing hadn’t launched itself at him.
He screamed, rather loudly, and ducked, hands over his head. The spider landed on him, legs scrabbling on his body. He panicked, fingers grabbing hold of a spindly limb and thrusting it away from him. The spider went flying but hit the ground and immediately scurried back.
Jool had a rock in hand by then and began throwing, digging into his pocket, tossing the few remaining rocks at the spider, smashing a few orbs that only served to make the thing angrier.
It hissed and leaped. Jool dove out of the way and stumbled over a stone. A bigger one. He grabbed it with two hands and, with more fear than courage, ran at the spider. Yelling an incoherent battle cry, he held the rock overhead, and when the thing got in range, he jumped first.
“Aaaaaah!” He soared at the spider, the rock smashing down on its head. He landed on top of it and slammed the rock over and over. He might have been crying as he did it. Covered in ichor and grunting with each strike.
“I think it’s dead.” It took the wry statement to make him stop.
Jool looked down at the carcass. He’d killed it.
Killed it good.
“How’s it taste over a fire?”
“Like shit. Get me down and I’ll show you what we can eat,” Niimmo offered.
It took a few tosses of a rock to finally convince the strands to dump their cargo.
Niimmo hit the ground with a thud. Jool retrieved his knife then proceeded to saw the man out of the cocoon, but only after he’d sprinkled dirt and leaves over the sticky parts.
Freed, the man rose and offered a grudging, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I guess that makes us even.”
“I reckon it does.”
A stiff silence fell, as the accusation brimmed in Jool’s gaze. “You knew about this place.”
“Yes and no. I’d heard rumors it existed. I just never found an entrance.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Niimmo shrugged. “Didn’t occur to me to tell you about the tales my grandfather told me growing up.”
“So why did you follow me then?”
“To see if you knew something. When I saw you climbing the face of that mountain, I thought for sure you’d die.”
“How did you manage to follow? The face of it was sheered clean.”
“Grappling hook and rope.”
Which meant there was a way back.
“Have you seen anything since you got here?” Jool asked.
“Saw the face of death.” A poor attempt at humor.
“I meant a structure. Something to indicate there was someone here before.”
“No. Is that what you’re looking for? Some long-lost colony of people?”
“I doubt there’s anyone left.” More of a gut instinct than anything.
“What do you think you’ll find, then?”
The talisman warmed against his skin. Show him.
He dragged the chain out of his shirt and dangled the broken cog. “More of these. I hope.”
“Looks like a piece of junk.” Niimmo frowned. “Hardly a treasure.”
“It might not appear like much, but it can cure the cough.”
The other man’s brows shot up. “Cure? Now you’re talking as if the pollution has rotted your brain. Medicine cures. Cogs make machines go ’round.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, this gear, ground into powder, can alleviate the cough. Reverse the illness.”
Niimmo recoiled. “No it can’t. You should toss that foolish fantasy away. Now.” He reached for the talisman.
“Don’t.” Jool slapped down his hand. “If you don’t want to believe, then that is your right. But I know what happened when I used it. I’m going to find more of these gears and bring them back to my wife.”
“If she’s alive.” A cruel thing to say.
Jool’s lips flattened. “She lives.” Because he’d die of guilt if she didn’t.
10
Another half-dose of the powdered metal gone, and a reprieve from her cough that she knew wouldn’t last. Just like her peaceful existence might soon come to an end. Onaria had seen the fire a few nights ago, the glow lighting up the night sky. The full story came from her neighbor, Lorhj, when he came by on patrol.
Someone burnt down the Konle farm. No one knew what happened to the husband and wife, but speculation favored bandits. Especially since no bodies were found.
It was hard to feel too outraged, as she saw the people living out here on the edge showing signs of deprivation. When her supplies dwindled to nothing, would she be so choosy?
Supplies weren’t coming. The train had stopped running. The last passenger to arrive, the niece of her neighbor, brought horror stories of fires and looting, mass suicides and murders.
The end of the world refused to come quietly.
The closer death stalked those that remained, the more desperate some became. Despondency turned to violence, and dire things were done in desperation.
Right now it was only the bandits they worried about. Outsiders.
But the food situation worsened each day. What would she be willing to do when it ran out?
Jool wasn’t the only one to head into the mountains and not return. At times, she wished she’d gone with him.
Now, she could only wait, because, if she lost faith, the rope in the shed might find itself a use.
She wasn’t that desperate yet. Why just last night she dreamt her husband found paradise. A valley ripe with food and possibility.
She could have even sworn he saw her in that dreamscape, smiled at her, and whispered, “Hold on. I’ll be coming home soon.”
Except there was no fresh meat in these parts. Just people.
Where are you, Jool?
11
Where am I? Within the jungle, where every tree had a cousin, brother, and mother that all looked alike, he could have been turning in circles and never known it.
It didn’t help that Niimmo didn’t seem too keen on helping. The man chose to follow rather than lead. As if Jool knew where to go.
He’d long ago given up on actually finding the spire. He’d been following his gut for a while now and had yet to see anything.
You’re close. Take a look and see.
Just as he went to mouth how, he spotted a tree, gnarled with age, the branches thick and close together. Ideal for climbing. Jool dropped his pack and grabbed hold of a limb. He began to climb, higher and higher, refusing to look below him. Ignoring the fact there were laws forbidding climbing. Ladders and stairs all sported warnings about using them at your own risk. The use of elevators was recommended, even if they often broken down.
Hard to believe in the olden days climbing used to be a sport. Then, as people got injured, it was outlawed. Many sports were outlawed, and yet the machines that spewed poison into the air were allowed to continue.
The logic baffled.
He’d made it almost to the top before the branches thinned enough that he could peek out and see. While not the tallest tree in the forest, it had enough height that he could get a glimpse of an unending sea of green. No structure or rocky spire. He pivoted and was prepared for more disappointment when he saw it to the left of where they’d been heading. A heck of a lot bigger, too. No wonder it took so long to reach it. He’d been much farther away than he knew.
“I see it!” he exclaimed. He finally glanced down to see if Niimmo heard him and gulped at the sight of the ground far, far—very far—below. He’d climbed awfully high. Feeling himself sway, he grabbed hold of the trunk.
“See what?” Niimmo replied.
“Some kind of…I don’t know what it is, but it’s not the mountain or a tree.”