Out of Exodia

by Debra Chapoton

  With the setting sun came a cacophony of chirruping insects, but thankfully few mosquitoes.

  “Did you notice that not a single vehicle was a two-seater?”

  “What?” Blake stuck a blade of grass in his mouth and chewed.

  “Their cars, they’re more like trucks. Huge. These people’s heads are either set up on super tall bodies or the seats in those cars are elevated.”

  “Hadn’t noticed. Too busy trying to figure out how this place escaped Exodia’s eye. Wouldn’t a spotter plane have found this valley easy enough?”

  Josh shrugged. “Maybe Truslow had a treaty with them.”

  Blake spit the grass out and pointed at the lights that were popping on in the city. “Think we can just walk in? Maybe they’re friendly.”

  They cut through the fields and came at the city not from the streets, but through what must have once been an impressive park. A group of men were playing a game with a ball and two sticks. Josh and Blake stayed back and watched for a bit, listening to their high voices and northern accents.

  “They sound like boys.”

  “Pretty tall for kids, don’t you think, Blake?”

  A mammoth of a man, eight feet tall at least, came through a high gate and called two of the players home. Josh got a funny tingle in his gut when he realized that these six-footers were only boys. What if all the adults were giants?

  * * *

  The four men who had taken the right fork toward the farms spent quite a while chomping on raw vegetables they pulled from the rich soil. They brushed the dirt off carrots the length and girth of a grown man’s forearm; pea pods were plumper and sweeter than anything they’d had before; over-sized watermelons had them stumped as to what they were. None of the four had seen fruit so large. Felix took his knife and sliced one open, scooped out sections for each of them, and threw the rind aside.

  “This place is unbelievable,” he said, looking up and around. He spit a couple of seeds out the corner of his mouth, missing Shane by inches.

  Jules concurred but added, “We probably shouldn’t be stealing like this. Remember the ten rules we had to memorize.”

  Shane scoffed, “Nobody’s going to miss these few vegetables. We’ll cover our tracks. Besides, it’s too dark to see us. Let’s check another field.”

  The men moved on, skirted a wheat field, and walked through rows of beans. By morning they came upon the orchards, ate their fill of apples, and found a place to rest and spy on the locals. Jules volunteered to walk into the village alone and test the people’s friendliness toward strangers.

  * * *

  The third group followed a trail that Sam and Emil guessed had been a railway path at one time though no tracks remained. Billy fell behind the others, grumbling about Josh’s decision to split them into three groups. He didn’t think it was fair for Josh to only take Blake with him. He didn’t think it was fair for those two to get to explore the city where there would be more to see and do. Who appointed Josh their leader? And, for that matter, why was Sam always out front in this group?

  By dark they were close enough to the flat-topped settlement to determine that what they’d seen and imagined from their hilltop view was not what this was. Sam, Emil, and Paul waited for Billy to catch up before discussing what was in front of them.

  “They’re factories,” Sam said.

  “Factories? Like in Exodia?” Billy snarled at Sam’s suggestion.

  “That’s what I think. Do you have another idea what they are? Housing units? Warehouses?” Sam could barely see Billy’s face; it was after midnight.

  “I’ve heard of gemfry rehabilitation centers. Maybe that’s what they are.”

  “What?” Emil exclaimed. “What are you talking about? That’s an old Suppression myth. Pretty much every one of us is a gemfry. Genetic modification from radiation exposure is just something people say to explain our differences or to label people they don’t like.” Emil would have punched Billy in the arm if he’d been standing closer. Instead he dismissed him by turning toward Sam and asking, “So, do you want to explore in the dark or wait until morning?”

  * * *

  On the afternoon of the fortieth day since the twelve scouts had left a cry went up from all the children who played near the front entrance of the campground. They were not so much scared of the dozen bedraggled men, horseless now, who traipsed toward them, but rather they were in awe of what those familiar men carried on poles or dragged behind them. The children darted around them, making a game of stealing samples from their burdens.

  By the time the group passed Bram’s cabin, Harmon, the rest of the judges, and most of the men of the camp were assembled.

  “Here you go, Bram,” Josh spoke first. “You wanted fruit. We brought you fruit.”

  Jules and Shane lifted the poles off their shoulders. Mammoth clusters of grapes, purple, green, and red, swung from branches tied to the poles. Felix emptied out bags of apples, pomegranates, figs and other fruits. Chris spread out an array of colorful vegetables.

  Eyes went wide. Suddenly the women made their way between the men and children, gathered armfuls of the bounty and started chattering about the feast they’d serve.

  Bram couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

  * * *

  I am amazed at the size of the food they’ve brought back. I shouldn’t be. I knew the land that we were promised was supposed to be the best.

  “Well,” I say, “it’s pretty obvious that the land is fertile. Tell me about the people that are already there.”

  Billy speaks over Josh’s first words and continues, cutting him off, “They’re powerful, Bram. Listen to this, all you judges: the men there are ten feet tall!”

  Seth agrees, “Giants. We’re not kidding. They stole the horses from me and Joey.”

  There’s an icy pause. I suspect there’s more to that story and those two have had to bear a fair amount of abuse from the others on the long walk back. I look to Josh who starts to speak again, “As I was about to say, the land is truly wonderful. I think the old expression is ‘a land of milk and honey’ and it certainly is. There are sheep and cattle and dairy herds, fields of every crop, and orchards, rivers, streams. The water is pure and the sky is blue.”

  I glance from man to man, noting the indecision in a couple sets of eyes. Blake takes over. “But the people … they’re something else. Gemfries like no others.” He looks to Billy. “Not quite ten feet tall, but seven, eight feet on average. The cities are large and they’re fortified. But I don’t think that’ll be a problem for us. We should go and take possession of the land. We can do it.”

  “No way,” Billy says. Most of the other scouts show the same misgivings on their faces. “We can’t attack those people; they’re stronger than we are. You know what my group found? Factories. Weapons factories. There’s even an airstrip with planes sitting ready.”

  Sam nods somewhat reluctantly. “True. The part we explored, well, it was pretty evident that they wouldn’t have any trouble against Exodia. Probably that’s why Exodia has stayed away from there. They’d be devoured. We’d be devoured.”

  I look to Harmon and see he’s thinking what I am: we’ll have a fight on our hands right here to convince the Reds to go north.

  I nod at Jules, hoping he’ll have something encouraging to add. He bites his lip. “I went into the village. I felt like a grasshopper in their eyes and I bet I looked like one to them. They were friendly enough, said they’d heard of us and how we wander around following a cloud and fighting old women and disabled men. I told them we follow God. They laughed.”

  “He’s lying,” Josh interrupts.

  “I’m not. They don’t see us as a threat.”

  “Yes they do!”

  “Shut up, Josh. We wouldn’t stand a chance against those monsters. They’re all goliaths.”

  “Well, I’ve heard enough,” Eugene shouts. “We’re halfway between Exodia and this glorious promised land which already seems to be claimed by a ra
ce of gemfries who will eat us for breakfast. Might as well go back and work for Truslow.”

  “Yes,” a woman’s voice cries out, “we had real food to eat there. Homes. Jobs.”

  “We were slaves,” I remind her.

  Another man argues, “I wish I’d died in Exodia. I don’t want to have to fight some giant, have him kill me, then take my wife and children as plunder. No way.”

  It quickly gets out of hand. They’ve waited forty days for these twelve to return and only Josh and Blake seem willing to seize what was pledged to us. Have all the Reds forgotten Ronel’s promise?

  Lydia sidles up to me, puts her hand on my shoulder and calms me down. The grumbling and arguing persist. I hold my tongue, an old habit. Paul whispers in his father’s ear and Teague nods.

  “We should choose a new leader,” Teague says. When he voices this ultimate betrayal I lower my eyes, keep my face down in front of the whole assembly. Harmon does the same. Josh and Blake tear at their clothes, clearly the most upset at this disloyalty.

  Josh yells at the Reds. “This land we explored is really, really good. Remember what we learned from Ronel? What we heard God’s voice say? It can be ours. We can take it. We can win it.”

  Blake cries out, too. “Stop this rebellion. You think you’re rebelling against orders from Bram, but you’re really rebelling against the Lord. Don’t be afraid of the giants in that land. We’ll swallow them up!”

  Josh leans over, pulls Harmon and me toward him, and shouts at the Reds. “Blake and I went to the city. Yes, it’s fortified, but it’s outdated. Their protection is gone. Don’t be afraid. The people there have heard of us. Word has reached them of how we fled Exodia, how the Blues were vanquished. They even believe that we are protected by a magic so great they believe it comes from the God we were allowed to worship in pre-Suppression days. And they’re right. The Lord is with us.”

  * * *

  Bram gestured to the judges and they worked their way through the crowd and over to the largest tent, the meeting tent. The people started to pick up stones as they passed by, threatening to throw them at their leaders. The judges’ wives planted themselves around the tent, arms folded, chins jutting out. Malcolm ran for the box.

  “We promise you,” Josh pleaded after every judge found a spot on a blanket, “the land is worth it. You saw the produce. The people in the promised land have done the hard part for us: building and farming and ranching. This is the place that Ronel said he’d prepare for us. Obviously he somehow used these giants to keep Exodia’s army out and to save the best part of this earth for us. Don’t you understand?”

  Bram and Blake were the only ones nodding. Then slowly Barrett’s father joined in, tapped his left elbow and indicated his desire to speak.

  “We can’t let a few hotheads lead everyone away from the goal. We’ve lost loved ones to get this far. It’s taken us years to travel what should have been little more than a week’s journey. Do we really want to go back to Exodia? I don’t think so. Do we want to wander around out here for another year, four years, forty?”

  Heads shook no. Then Eugene spoke up. “We need a sign.”

  “Asking God for a sign really shows your unbelief.” Harmon aimed a finger at Eugene. Eugene stared back. The air of friction held a note of truth.

  Bram broke the tension with an upraised hand. He cocked his head. He heard the hum of Malcolm’s box. A moment later the other judges picked up on the sound. It grew louder and the men covered their ears. All except Bram. The buzzing was not at all uncomfortable to his ears. He heard the words:

  “How long will the Reds treat me with contempt? How long will they refuse to believe in me? Have they not witnessed the miracles? Have they not seen the signs?”

  Bram looked at the men. Their eyes were pinched shut, hands pushed tight against their skulls, and their heads were bowed. He bowed his head too.

  “I will strike them down with a plague, then I will make them into a nation greater and stronger.”

  * * *

  I’m afraid for my friends and family. The last thing they need is a plague. They suffered the effects of some of the plagues in Exodia and blamed me.

  The buzzing stops, the tent flaps open and Lydia pokes her head in to speak one chilling word, “Snakes.”

  Chapter 17 The Reunion

  From the thirteenth page of the fourth Ledger:

  They climbed the trees, slipped into the water, and slithered beneath their blankets. Their fatal venom rose, ebbed. The wise looked up.

  WE LEAVE THE tent. The women’s shrieks make it hard to focus. Children cry and the few horses that are tied nearby strain against their ropes, their rear ends fanning back and forth, hooves dancing high. Four large snakes dangle from an oak. One winds its way along the branch to the trunk. I’m fascinated by its movement. It briefly crosses my mind that this could be the plague, but I dismiss the thought just as quickly. There are only four. So few snakes will be dealt with swiftly if not calmly; already Josh nears the oak, knife out. The snake lifts its green head, mouth open, ready to strike. I can see the white, venom-tipped fangs from here. I scan the trees and ground around us and pull Lydia closer to my side.

  “There’s going to be a plague against us,” I whisper to Lydia. “But I don’t think it’s snakes.” I can feel her doubt through my skin. I glance at her, but she keeps her eye on the oak.

  The women and children stop their screaming and hold their breath to watch Josh work his way closer to the threat. The snake’s neck coils back in an S, ready to strike, but Josh is quicker. The knife slices through the snake’s neck as easily as through the silent air. Our collective breaths release. The second snake drops to the earth, and the third and fourth ones, too. Sam and Jules and Billy, the three scouts who spoke most vehemently against going to the new land, suddenly find their bravery and charge the snakes stopping a few feet short, readying weapons. But they are not as proficient as Josh.

  One snake thrusts itself at Billy, lightning fast, and sinks its teeth into his ankle. Billy wails in agony, bends to swing his knife, but his arm goes limp; he tumbles forward. The snake springs back and strikes again, lancing both fangs into his neck. Billy lies silenced, eyes wide, lashes fluttering. No one moves to help him, not with that green viper slithering across his chest. All attention rivets to Jules and Sam who screech in tandem as the two remaining snakes attack them just above their shoes.

  “Ankle Asps,” someone murmurs. I hear the name and instantly see an anagram: slap snake. I wonder if that’s a sign, a way to kill them perhaps.

  Jules and Sam writhe in pain and rather than go to their aid most Reds turn away.

  Lydia tells me she wants to find her mother, but I don’t want her to leave my side. I feel my belt sack for my knives, a short pathetic blade that once gave me a little courage against a wild dog, and a longer, sharper hunting dagger of cold pre-Suppression steel. I pull that one out and unsheathe it. Before I take two steps a greater alarm sounds as those who fled into the woods or toward the lake return with shouts that more snakes appear wherever they turn. Dozens. Hundreds.

  I hurry my steps toward Jules, Sam, and Billy. Josh reaches Billy’s lifeless body before I do and swipes the air above his chest. The blade meets the striking snake and severs its head. I see how Josh aims for where the snake will be instead of where it is. I quickly do the same to the snakes that guard Jules and Sam. The men have no strength to thank me with more than a groan.

  “Blake, Asher! Move these two to my cabin.” I look back at Lydia. “Go with them. Make sure the windows are shut tight.”

  I twist around and almost trip over a ten year old boy who grabs at my sleeve. “Sir, Teague knows of Ankle Asps.” I barely comprehend his message before the kid’s father rushes past and snags the boy.

  Sir, Teague knows of Ankle Asps. Slap snake was too easy, but this phrase unravels almost as easily: A plague of snakes strikes now.

  So I was wrong. This is the plague, the judgment on the Reds who won’t
trust enough to accept the paradise that is promised to us. I can only hope we don’t all die from the excruciating venom.

  Sharp screams assault my ears and Lydia follows me as I run from tent to tent, forest to lake, path to road, always too late to help another victim other than to slash insanely at yet another asp. We find women sobbing, clutching ankles, men rolling in the dirt, surrendering to multiple bites. Dying. It seems that there are only a few of us trying to thwart this plague. Knives, faux swords. The guns are useless without steady hands and perfect aim.

  “The rod.” Lydia points. Harmon has the rod and he kicks a hole in the ground with his heel then grinds the end down until it stands on its own. He flicks a switch and waits. Nothing happens. No ultrasonic waves, no electromagnetic radiation, no sub-sonic pulse, nothing to repel the snakes or kill them.

  My mind races for a solution. I cast my eyes around on every person and thing until I settle on Malcolm’s box. He’s left it sitting unguarded next to the meeting tent and he has run away.

  I hurry to the box, hesitate when I remember what’s hidden inside. I refrain from touching it, but right here, right in the open where everyone can see me and think I’m crazy, I kneel down next to the box, close my eyes and talk.

  “What do I do? Please do not destroy all of us this way. Think of the giants in that land. They’ve heard that we follow you. If you destroy us with this venom they will hear reports of this, too, and they will believe that you could not deliver on your promise.”

  I feel the warmth of a tear slip from my eye. “And Exodia will hear. Please, please. Just love us. Forgive us.” I let myself fold over, groaning, hardly conscious of my whimpering. My forehead rests on the box.

  And I hear something. It’s not like the voice on the mountain or the hum of the box. It doesn’t resonate or boom through my bones, but thoughts fill my head as if I already had the knowledge. He who belongs to Him hears what He says. He who does not belong to Him does not hear Him. As soon as it is completely clear to me I jump up to find Eugene.