Canaan

by David Salvi

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, Soldier-boy,” Riley said with sarcasm. She retreated to a thicket of bushes to inspect its features. Something to do.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking this plant out. What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Looks like you’re walking away from everyone because you’re pissed.”

  “I’m pissed we had to stop.”

  “You need to relax. Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Chris said as he put his bags down by one of the bush.

  “Oh, when’d you finally learn that one?” She was pissed.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “You think because you’re Jason Menas’ son that you’re allowed to call the shots in my army? Last I checked, I’m commanding this group who is going to free Canaan.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you don’t know shit about respecting a superior officer. Follow your damn orders. Like, leave me the hell alone and get back with your company.” She pointed to the company and turned back to the thicket.

  “You turned into a Canaanite real quick.” Chris looked down to locate his bags. He was ready to finish this bizarre conversation.

  When he lifted his head back up, he found Riley’s open hand slap him across his face. A smack echoed off the side of the mountain and drifted into the sea’s air.

  Riley seethed through gritted teeth, “Get the fuck back in your company before I exile you from this mission.”

  With a fresh red handprint forming on his face, Chris obliged her orders by picking up his bags, shaking his head, and heading back to the group. His face stung. Bad. She was a strong person, no doubt. But there was something else behind that slap.

  The only one who caught the commotion was Wallock, who had followed Chris to help with his bags. But once he saw Riley’s anger, he slowly tracked backward and back with the rest of the company.

  Chris caught up to Wallock, but remained silent.

  “What was that about?” Wallock asked.

  “Something. I don’t know what. But something.”

  Chris returned to his company without looking at Wallock, who had his eyes fixated on Chris.

  Lavik came up and said, “What’s wrong, Sir Chris?”

  Wallock chimed in, “Aye. Riley hit him.”

  Lavik contained his laughter. He was able to eek out, “Kiss not go so well?”

  “No, no. Sir Christopher’s been kissing the library blonde,” Wallock said, eager to answer Lavik’s question.

  Chris shot his body around and said, “How do you know that?!” He drew the attention of his company.

  “I, uh, saw you. Right before we left.” Wallack sheepishly said. He cowered behind Lavik, who immediately rolled his eyes.

  “Olivia. Not library blonde,” Chris said. He hunched after releasing a large puff of air, as if to admit defeat.

  Lavik studied his soldier and friend. “You miss her, Sir Christopher?”

  “More than I thought I would,” Chris said. His face dropped a bit at the realization.

  “Do you want to go back?” Lavik asked.

  Chris shook his head no. Absolutely not. He was emphatic in his resolve to complete his mission.

  Lavik said, “Then we carry on. As brothers and soldiers. Okay?”

  Chris nodded yes.

  Their chatter devolved into pointless gabber about Canaanite City. The rest of the company joined in. For the next few minutes, the company was one again.

  That was until they heard the shrill of Riley’s voice from the front. She called for the end of the break, and it was up the side of the mountain once again. Several soldiers groaned, but Chris made a point to shoot right up and holler at them, “Let’s go! Canaan ain’t going to free itself!”

  He gave Lavik a look as if to say, “Better?”

  Lavik joined, “Well said, Sir Chris! Onward!”

  Collectively the three companies rose to their feet with a fresher feeling in their legs. Led by Riley, the march went on. The act alone reinvigorated their faith in their fearless redheaded leader.

  For the rest of the day, the Motus companies marched in unison with determination and dreams of victory. They broke once for lunch under the shade of a forest of krakona trees within the dense mountain pass. At that time, Apollo hit the apex of its reign over the day. Heat and humidity had then climbed to its highest levels, leaving the soldiers feeling every breath come in and out of their bodies. Again, Chris and the fellow transplants felt a familiar feeling and made nothing of it. After lunch their trudge continued alongside the mountain, slowly making their way up at a minimal grade.

  Riley, who frequently checked her watch and charted their course, was pleased with the progress. Ahead of schedule, she murmured to herself. Despite the breaks.

  ***

  As night descended onto Canaan, Riley called an end to the day’s march.

  They exhaled a mighty “Hurrah!” for their efforts that day and started preparations for meals and overnight rest. Soldiers laid blankets as mobile beds, tucked leaves underneath for comfort, and changed what clothes they could. Campfires were strategically placed to guard the camp—both from Canaanite forces and curious animals, primarily bonzo cats. But other critters, like mags - foot-sized ugly rodents, and curious insects could infiltrate the camp and cause quite the stir. Natural oils from krakona trees were bottled and supplied with the companies as a means to deflect insect bites.

  For Lavik’s company, they sat around several large campfires, which appeared to radiate the most heat and shine the most light in the given area. There was laughter, stories, and solidarity.

  Lavik was particularly proud to tell Chris’s adventure story across the Valley and up into the Albertrum Mountains with a pit stop into Albertrum Lake. The audience ooh’d and ahh’d with wonderment while Chris sat on a log at Lavik’s side. Chris mostly smiled or affirmed one of Lavik’s seemingly outlandish claims. The story even drew Riley’s attention.

  Chris caught their commander in the corner leaning against a large krakona tree trunk with a half-cocked smile on her face. She would shake her head a few times and laugh.

  Lavik took several liberties with the expression and exaggeration of certain facts, but Chris did not want to damper the entertainment of the story by interrupting and correcting his friend and superior officer. So he let Lavik say that there were a dozen men following Chris instead of the factual three. Sure, Chris battled the bonzo cat tooth and nail like a fearless warrior in a gladiator ring that was the summit of the mountain.

  At the end of it all, they cheered on Chris as a hero of Motus. He bashfully accepted the applause and thanked the group for indulging Lavik in the tale. He claimed he was no hero. He only wanted to do what he could to honor his mother’s wish, which only strengthened their adoration to the young man.

  Once the story concluded, the group broke up into individual conversations with some retiring to sleep. That’s when Riley moved in to talk to Chris.

  “Some story,” she said. She had on more moderate garments, ones for sleep, leaving the armor and bags by her company’s area in camp.

  Chris was surprised to see Riley there after their run-in. He was preparing for sleep by making a little area for his bed—a comfy patch of grass and dirt surrounded by branches and leaves. He said, “El-Vee stretched the truth for me a bit.”

  Riley said, “That’s his way. He’s a good friend.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Chris was silent right after he agreed. He did not want to take the conversation any further.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier.” Riley wanted to make sure she said it.

  “Okay.”

  “I lost my temper when I shouldn’t have.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” she asked. She shifted her weight and looked at the ground while her leg shook. For the first time since Canaanite City, Chris saw Riley was visibly vulnerable.

  “Going to bed.”

  “
Oh, okay.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe go for a walk. Want to come?” She felt stupid asking.

  “Asking me out?”

  “Something like that.”

  “After what you did? What you said?” He was skeptical. Everything in him thought back on that first time he saw her running through the streets of Canaanite City. Strong and stunning, yet vulnerable.

  “I said I was sorry. I really am.” She was.

  “I need to rest.” Chris laid down without fidgeting much. He just wanted some rest. But when he put his head down, his eyes were wide open and waiting for her to lay next to him.

  She didn’t. Riley spun on her heel and returned to a tent her company assembled for her.

  As Riley left, Chris turned his mind’s eye to Olivia. A special feeling overcame him when ruminating on the radiant and brilliant blonde woman curating the universe’s last books.

  Riley was just trying to use me, Chris thought. For her own self-esteem. I won’t let her.

  After he had resisted the redhead, the one who had tormented him since seeing her on the Canaanite streets, Chris drifted off to the sleep. The crackling of the fire echoed in his ear until it ceased to be. His drowsy eyes fluttered to a close. He drew deep, heavy, and slow breaths of Canaan’s steamy air. His mind was shut off.

  ***

  “What’d you find out?” Riley asked Wallock while they sat on logs by the campfire. They were alone as the others slept in their makeshift beds of branches, leaves, and dirt. Still she whispered and crouched down like two kids telling secrets.

  “Captain, nothing really. He didn’t speak.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Excuse me for saying, but why do you want me to follow him so much? Back on Motus and now this? You never told me. You just said ‘follow him, wherever he goes’ and I have.”

  “Something is off. He hardly participated in the War Council’s briefings. He rarely showed up at the nightly gatherings. And when he did, he acted like a silent gypsy in the corner. You sure he was always in the library?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Always there. Or scribbling something on paper and throwing it in his knapsack. Then back off to the library.”

  “Probably screwing that blonde stick bitch in her hovel.” Her gaze was glued to the fire.

  Wallock shifted and moved his eyes from side to side as to not look at Riley. He gulped, and said, “Whoa, Captain. You have feelings for the young man, eh?”

  “No. And watch it.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Not my place.” Wallock lowered his head and his shoulders dropped. When he looked over to Riley, he saw the orange blaze of the fire reflect in her pupils. He gulped again.

  “Stay on him.”

  “I will, ma’am.” He did not want to cross Riley.

  “He’s up to something. I know it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  THE COMPANIES OF MOTUS’S ARMY marched quietly and proudly along the western slope of the Albertrum mountains. They headed north, where the temperature dipped in the evenings. But aside from a few pesky mags rodents, the trouble from Canaan’s nature was at a minimum.

  They marched during the day and rested at night. At first light, the company leaders called for a continuation of the prior day’s activity. Soldiers knew this going in. And they accepted it. This cycle happened for a few weeks.

  The terrain was rocky and jagged. Sparser trees poked their heads from the ground as they ventured north and up the mountain. Soldiers watched their shadows drift from west to east as Apollo made its way across the sky and into the horizon.

  Their cause and mission were just. But that did not preclude the band of rebels from enjoying the arduous trek across the northern part of the land, which grew increasingly uncomfortable. They played games and tossed jokes around at each other for laugher. If a man or woman took a joke too seriously, he or she was immediately rebuked by the group. No reason one cannot laugh at one’s self, they’d say. And they were right. With their mission so just and their cause so right, why allow pettiness to splinter the group? They would not let it. And they did not.

  Riley would travel back and forth from the back of the company to the front. She’d appoint a leader to keep their course during those brief inspections. She’d run up and down with full gear. Each company would silence their chatter as they saw red hair approach. But she beckoned them to carry on as usual, which they did.

  As if fate, she’d unwittingly lock eyes with Chris. He kept an eye out for her. She kept an eye out for him.

  When the captain wasn’t preying him with her gaze, Chris thought about his poems and prose. He hadn’t written in a long time. That made him sad. When marching in company, he strung words together in his head. It distracted him from the aches in his legs. But when he’d rest in the evening, the jumbled assemblage was lost when he took up his pencil. Once again, he was sad. For all the intake he had done at the library, very little emitted back onto his pages. This happened every day during the trek.

  The days went on, and the companies were bored, but determined. They’d convince themselves of their cause hourly, ensuring each other’s morale was appropriate and high.

  “Just a few more,” many said of the days travelled.

  “Imagine their faces when we show up,” Lavik remarked often. He repeated the line every other day. Eventually the soldiers in his company tuned out the message. Or had an automated response.

  Chris ignored all of the commentary and never supplied his own. He wished to subdue his inflated reputation thanks to Lavik’s big mouth and obsession with stretching story details.

  And so the monotonous journey went. They circumvented the highest peaks of the Albertrum Mountains, which was an L-shaped range that surrounded the lake, and arrived at the northern point miles south of the ice sheet, though there was no ice this time of year. The company was depleted of energy. Legs would shake at the end of long days. Arms dangled at their sides. Sores covered their shoulders from all the bags they’d collectively carry. Faces dragged down by the very gravity pulling them into Canaan’s crust. A few of the soldiers had fallen ill, which slowed the entire caravan of warriors. But they looked out for each other and persisted.

  Then they saw a beautiful sight. Lake Albertrum and the way Apollo glared its mighty light on it. Canaan’s three moons reflected clearly like giant orbs resting underneath the water’s surface.

  It wasn’t until the sight of Lake Albertrum that a divine lift of excitement filled their souls again. They had travelled west from the northern point to arrive at the Herod Hills of Canaanite City’s north border. This was Chris’s former territory, where the garden grew its bountiful yield for the city’s nourishment.

  When he looked upon it, Chris saw familiar ground with a map of the entire garden variety in his head like eidetic memory flashing blueprints at him. Far away was the entrance, where he put in his name every day to clock in for duty. He wondered about his boss, the Administrator of Agriculture, and where he was at that moment. If he tended the garden with Chris’s departure. And if he saw Chris, would he scream at him, call him a traitor, or remember his old friend and hard-working employee fondly? Time would tell Chris exactly what he needed to know. Still, a flood of nostalgic feelings overwhelmed him. These were his colleagues and compatriots. Now they were his enemies. He rejected the idea of labeling them so harshly. There had to be another way. Regardless of how he felt, he stared in unison with the rest of the company.

  But the scene was far away, and Chris only saw figures moving in the lines of crops. No faces. Only shapes and anatomical movement.

  What struck the other soldiers, the ones who had never travelled to Canaan, was the expanse of Canaanite City and the peripheral grounds. Farmland and groves of food surrounded a dense city with a lone tower in the center. The tower, white and pristine in appearance, stood four times taller than the next tallest building, leaving the rest of the city’s architecture overshadowed by this awesome stature. Plenty of oo
hs and aahs came out of Motus’s native sons and daughters.

  “Save your anticipation,” Lavik said to the company. “Plenty of evil down there, despite its glittery appearance.” A few of the other lieutenants seconded the motion and added their own vitriol toward the Canaanites. It’s as if they started to blame them for their remote life on Motus Island. That their charmed and bountiful life here, full of terrain and fields was sucked up by people who didn’t deserve it.

  Chris and Lavik marched side-by-side.

  “You know what I’ve always wondered, Sir Chris?” Lavik said. He took a breath like he wasn’t needing a response from Chris to proceed, but wasn’t going to be rude.

  “What’s that, El-Vee?” Chris said, minding his footsteps.

  “Water.” He said it with an exhale.

  “What about water?”

  “Light-years away, a single molecule required to sustain life is sitting here in a wild abundance.”

  “Right.”

  “Miraculous, isn’t it?”

  “Billions of atoms bursting into each other. Colliding in a constant array of chaos. Countless worlds around the universe. Some are bound to be similar.”

  “Ha! Like I said—miraculous.”

  “So, what did you wonder about?”

  “Why is the water here?”

  “Chance.”

  “Nothing in life is chance, Sir Chris. I know that much.”

  “Fate, huh?” Chris casually walked about and amused Lavik’s contemplation.

  “Exactly.”

  “I read through the Bible. Good stories. That’s all I took from it.”

  “Who says anything about that antiquated tome? I’m talking about the spirit. About our will.”

  “I like the notion.”

  “We travel to where a path is laid for us. Like right now. Here for our species sake. Transcending time and space.”

  “I suppose we should just look to the water,” Chris said.

  Lavik cackled and said, “Exactly! Ah, what the hell am I talking about? Just an old sailor with crackpot ideas.”