The forest floor was covered in lichen and moss, some of the moss was quite large, and the patches of it vast. Seldom did Cris ever see dirt. Wherever life could take hold, it had.
From up ahead came the sound of a constant roaring. They had reached what Tattie called the gorge of the skeletons. The gorge was perhaps thirty meters across and twenty deep. It twisted its way into the forest to their right until they could no longer see it. To their left was a waterfall fed by the fast-moving river beyond. Not far from the cataract was a bridge. It appeared to be made of stone and covered with moss and wild flowers. It had one support: right in the center. Cris started to make his way toward the bridge at a trot, shouting out to Tattie, who had headed the opposite direction, "Hey, how old is this bridge?"
Tattie turned to see where he was heading and screamed, "Stop!"
Cris stopped and turned toward her, "Why? What?"
Tattie made that do not speak gesture, then pointed toward the bridge. An animal about the size of a pony, green in color with long legs, a head like a snake, and ears like a squirrel had bolted out of the wood and was heading for the bridge. It performed a three-meter jump and landed in front of the bridge, then started across. It had not gotten halfway across when, with a motion as fast as lightning, the bridge folded up at the midpoint, trapping the animal between the two spans of the bridge. Then, down in the water, what appeared to be the rock the bridge's center span had been anchored to, rose up out of the water; the center opened to reveal a blood red mouth, bristling with razor sharp teeth. The entire bridge was sucked down into the mouth and it closed. Several seconds passed, and then the mouth reopened. The bridge was restored to its original position. The animal was gone.
Cris stood quite still, stunned. Tattie took him by the arm, led him to the edge of the gorge, and pointed down with the end of her bow. The banks of the river below were littered with bones as far as he could see. Just as Cris was about to speak, a cloud of blood colored the water, erupting from the rock in the river, and flowed down stream.
"This is why the gorge has been so named," Tattie said.
"What is that thing?" Cris asked, looking back at the bridge.
"That is Gros Grosatu, the hungry crossing. We avoid it."
"You don't say? It seems everything on this planet will eat you."
"Our advantage over the animals is that we can learn from our elders. I have hunted all my life in these very woods, and I am still here."
They followed the gorge downstream for about a kilometer when in front of them Cris spotted a log lying across the chasm. As they got nearer, Cris noticed that the tree had been intentionally felled to act as a bridge. He also noted, based on the growth of vegetation on and around the trunk, and the depth to which it had sunk into the soil, that this huge log must have been lying here a very long time.
"Here is where we cross," Tattie said.
"Wait a minute, how old is this glorified twig?"
"It was cut by my grandfather's grandfather."
"Aren't you afraid the wood might be rotten? It could collapse under us."
"Cris, this is Avory zaharcanin egar. The wood, even of a dead tree, will last ten thousand double moons and is highly prized. But the Avory protect it and none may use it without their blessing. It is, you see, the remains of their ancestors. When this tree was felled, it was already a thousand rotations old."
The log was about four meters in diameter, but it was covered in lichen and moss, and it was wet. Tattie sprinted lightly across. Cris was not nearly as lithe as she and he had a bum leg. He took his time and moved carefully. He briefly lost his footing near the end, but recovered with only the loss of some pride. On the other end, he hopped down next to Tattie and looked back at the log. Turning to her, he said, "What, you're not going to ride me for not zipping across like you did?"
"Cris, you displayed good sense. I grew up here, remember?"
She turned and bounded into the forest's deep underbrush. That was when Cris noticed she hardly made any sound at all, and, right before his eyes, she vanished like a ghost.
Cris, using movement techniques he learned in escape and evasion school, followed her. But there was no sign and no sound of her. He decided to follow her last known heading. But he found nothing, she was just gone. And deep inside, he felt as he had in the forest by the large rock star stones in the forest of the tall conifers, abandoned.
But he knew she had not left him alone in here—don't leave me alone. The jungle was closing in on him. To his right, he heard voices, Asian voices, the enemy were gaining on him, he had to move fast now, so he began to run for all he was worth, crashing through the jungle like a tank. Where was his pistol? He was not going to be captured alive. He leapt over a log and dodged under another one. Behind him now…they were behind him now…running after him—calling his name—they were calling his name!
He ran hard into a tree and fell backward, stunned. He lay there, resigned to his fate. When they got to him, he would jump on one and force them to kill him. His world began to spin.
"Cris—" It was a female voice.
"Cris!" He was sure he knew the voice, knew who spoke his name—green eyes—he was looking at green eyes.
"Cris, are you all right?"
"Ah—what?"
"What's your name?"
"My name? What are you, a VA doctor? I'm okay, just bumped my head on this tree, is all."
"You have a large bump on your forehead, just here."
"Ouch, well don't thump it!"
"Be still." She filled her palm with the elixir of Geldneth Nordthok and splashed it on his brow, then rubbed it in.
"Hey, that hurts."
"Don't be a baby. Here, drink some."
He did, and the pain was gone. His mind also cleared.
Tattie helped him to his feet. "I'm sorry," she said looking down.
"For what?"
"Leaving you alone out here. I had thought to play a game I used to play as a child, of hiding in plain sight and evading the other children."
"We call that hide and go seek."
"I had no idea being alone out here would take you back to Oceania."
"No, dammit, I was just lost, that's all." Cris was instantly sorry for the anger in his voice. "I'm—I didn't mean to—shit. I'm sorry…that's all."
"Was it like your dreams?"
"I'm fine. Where do we go from here?"
"You do not wish to talk about—"
"No—Tattie, I don't."
"This then is the reason you've never—" she stopped herself.
"Never what?"
"Never mind, you're right. This is not the time or place for talk, we have a distance yet to go, and, of course, we want to be back before dark."
"Where are we going, anyway?"
"Follow me, I will stay close. Cris, you'll not be alone again."
She turned and started walking away through the bush. Cris reached up to feel the knot on his head, it was already gone. Her words echoed in his ears, "You'll not be alone again." He watched her distinctly female shape walk away and a voice in his head said, "Ah, hell, baby—I'm always alone."
Chapter 11
A Death in the City
Not much farther into the woods, they encountered a path through the forest that bisected their line of march. The floor of the path was wet and slimy. Tattie stopped Cris and again indicated he should not speak. She moved slowly forward with absolute silence. At the edge of the trail, she peeked in both directions. She motioned Cris forward. She leaned very close, as she did her lips brushed his ear. He felt his eyes pop open wide, and experienced an entirely new sensation as a result of this contact. It startled him.
"This is the path of a slidrath," she whispered, "a creature to be avoided. It was here recently, but I believe it is gone now or I'd smell it; let us get far from here. I will move no faster than you can keep up."
"You move as fast as you want," Cris whispered back.
"I told you Cris, I won't leave you alon
e again."
She leapt across the trail, then turned toward Cris. "Don't step in the feces. You'll smell of slidrath, and we will never be able to sneak up on our game."
"Feces?" Cris looked down at the clear, gelatinous substance on the ground. He backed up and took a running jump over the path, and they continued on.
Two hours later they reached the top of a hill from which there was a good view into the shallow valley below. Tattie climbed swiftly up onto a fallen tree trunk, it, too, was covered in lichen, and wild flowers. Cris joined her atop the great log, but it took him longer to climb up. She pointed down through the trees into the valley. "Look there," she said.
Cris looked, he could see something, but he could not make it out. Something was sticking out of the vegetation, several something’s that he could not quite recognize.
"What is that?" he asked.
"That was once the village of Vonkanoor Impara. You recall I told you how the king sent out those empty Funil planet hoppers to test Caval Du Mal, who destroyed them all? Well, he then made it his business to discover every town and village from which they had departed, and then he ordered them and all their inhabitants destroyed. Each was attacked on midnight of the celebration of the new moons, when the night is darkest and all the families sleep in the same room with their children—" Tattie stopped, Cris looked up to see that she was fighting back tears. "All were killed here, Cris. Generations of families died together. Entire families whose names went back to the beginning of the first settlements ended here that night."
"I'm sorry."
"You have no reason to be, you were not here."
"I'm sorry for all the pain you're still feeling."
"Are you?"
"Of course."
"Then you must permit me to be sorry for all the pain you are still feeling."
Cris stood silent as his anger at her a few nights ago came echoing back through his mind.
His eyes became distant and sorrowful, and he knew that Tattie had seen it.
"Come, Cris," she said. "The basatxerrithume make their homes in the ruins now. That is our game, they are small enough that we may each carry one, and they are delicious."
"Ba saut kariec thumb?" Cris asked, trying to pronounce the untranslated word.
"Basatxerrithume; basa is the short name. Come, I want to show you how to use this bow before we descend into Vonkanoor Impara."
"You're the hunter, why do I need to learn?"
"You will better appreciate your food if you hunt and kill it yourself."
"You know, on my world, no one ever sees where their food comes from."
"How do they know what they are eating?"
"We trust the government to ensure it's good to eat."
Tattie shook her head. "An entire world of gimba. Come with me, Cris. I will open your eyes to a whole new existence. Take this." Tattie handed Cris the bow.
"It's a funny thing," he said, looking the bow over. "On my world, just about every culture that ever existed invented this weapon completely independent of one another."
Tattie showed Cris the basics of archery and demonstrated a few shots at various ranges. She was a remarkable archer.
Cris took the bow and tried a couple of shots. He came close.
"You are lucky that the basa are as big a gimba as you. You'll be able to get quite close to them."
"I could master this thing with more time, ya know."
"I may just put you to the test. Vemde, you carry the bow."
The walk down into the ruins took another forty-five minutes. It was not difficult to visualize what once stood here. Unlike Tarnus's hamlet of Aldeya, which was mostly constructed of wood, Vonkanoor Impara had been predominantly stone—cut stone, not rocks. There was a great deal of similarity to Incan ruins. Here and there, however, were columns, not Roman or Greek; these were square blocks piled one upon another and ornately carved. Many had fallen or been knocked over. The place was choked with vegetation. Cris knew that the events Tattie described had not taken place that long ago, so this jungle must have been quick to reclaim the land.
Cris became aware of odd, circular depressions in the streets, also choked with vegetation. They were singularly out of place. Then it struck him: these were craters…impact craters. Many of the buildings displayed the effects of having been struck, also.
Throughout the place, he could see narrow trails.
"These paths are made by the many basa living here now," Tattie said. "Follow me, move quietly."
With his third step, a dry leaf crunched under his boot. Tattie turned and gave him a stern look. He just shrugged and raised his eyebrows. They continued on. Cris was amazed at how quietly she moved, in a crouch, like a cat, ready to pounce.
As he passed a building on his right, Cris looked in through the vine-covered door and froze. Someone was inside, looking back at him—apparently, lying quite low to the ground and not moving. He glanced toward Tattie, but she was too far ahead to get her attention with a small noise. Cris pulled the arrow back and slowly advanced into the dark room. He stepped quickly to his left, so as not to present a silhouette in the doorway, and to allow the outside light to illuminate the person prone on the floor. After a few more measured steps, Cris took the pressure off his bowstring and removed his arrow. He knelt down to get a better look. There were two humanoid skulls on the floor, no doubt Geldneth like Tattie, based on the shape of the skull and the enormous eye sockets.
One of the skulls was quite small and without teeth, an infant. Cris stood and looked about the room, bones were scattered all around. He suddenly felt a flood of emotions and had to rush outside. He leaned against the doorframe with his face in his hand, taking deep, slow breaths.
"Cris, are you all right?" It was Tattie, trotting up beside him. Cris just motioned with his head into the door. Tattie went in and re-emerged in a few seconds.
"Cris, I told you what Caval Du Mal did here."
"How—how did he do it?" Cris asked as his glance fell on another crater.
"He had it bombed from the air."
Cris dropped the bow and quickly walked off into the wood in the direction they had come from. He found a rock and sat down.
Tattie gave Cris several minutes alone before she approached him. "What's wrong, Cris?" she asked quietly.
"That's what I did. I dropped bombs from the air." His voice was strained as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"Cris, I'm sure you never did anything like this."
"Oh, my God—I hope not." His voice cracked, and tears welled in his eyes. He kept his back to Tattie as he fought to stem the flow. "Tattie, let me have the elixir," he said, tossing his hand back.
"Not this time, Cris," she said softly. "You need to vent your mind upon which you have allowed considerable pressure to mount."
Cris turned to demand the bladder, but Tattie was gone. Cris turned back and buried his face in his fists and, alone with his pent-up grief, he wept.
○O○
Cris had no idea how long he remained at the rock, suffering the effects of his PTSD. He eventually fell asleep on the ground in the fetal position. He later marveled that nothing came along and ate him, sure Tattie had something to do with his survival.
He had dreamt, and in his dreams, he was walking, at night, through a burning village made of grass and bamboo. People were running all about, screaming and crying. No one seemed to notice his presence, as if he were invisible. Out of the darkness, illuminated by the flickering flames, walked Danny, his flight suit clean and fresh, and his boots spit-shined. He walked up and stood next to Cris.
"Cigarette?"
"I don't use 'em, you know that."
"Yeah, I know," Danny responded, lighting up.
"Danny—did we do this?"
"Collateral damage, Cris. We didn't intend this, it's just a byproduct of war."
"A byproduct?"
"Yeah, the enemy places their war materials next to schools, orphanages, and in the middle of village
s. They use the civilian population as human shields."
"Danny, I've never seen the results of what we do from the ground."
"Well, hell no. Couple of scenes like this and we'd all go nuts. I know about the skulls you saw today. Cris, listen—what happened there was done by design. Those people were the primary targets. You know we never—"
"Still not a lot of difference in the end result, is there, Danny?"
"No, you're right, very little difference, but we tried to avoid this, and our job was to stop the bad guys from doing this crap on a much wider scale. Don't forget what they did in Cat Yan forest: murdered eighty thousand civilians—men, women, and children—because they accepted one of our bases in their city—before the war." Danny looked back at the flames. "This is the very reason why it's called war." He tossed his butt down and stepped on it. "It sucks."
Cris woke to find the sun sitting low in the Mendaba sky. He rose and ventured back into the ruins. He walked casually through the place, looking for a sign of Tattie. He knew that not even Daniel Boone could find a trail left by Tattie.
Through a break in the overhead canopy, Cris saw a square stone tower, the top of which protruded above the jungle. From the summit, a thin wisp of white smoke rose. He concluded it had to be her.
Cris made his way in that direction. It was only about sixty meters away, but it was sixty meters of heavy undergrowth. There were several open doorways to both his left and right, but he avoided looking in their direction.
As he approached the base of the tower, he heard the sound of a great many flying insects. The first thing he saw was a river of coagulated blood. Its trail led him to a pile of entrails upon which all manner of strange insects were feasting. Just beyond, about three meters was the entrance to the tower.
"Tattie!" Cris shouted her name, and burst into a run. Inside the tower, stone steps wound up the inner walls toward the top, though he could hardly see, Cris bolted up the steps. "Tattie!" He was halfway up when his foot landed on a loose stone in the steps and a section of the stairs fell away. He did not let it slow him.
As he made the next turn, he heard the now-familiar word, "Gimba, be careful you'll knock the entire tower down!"
Across a Sea of Stars Page 15