River's Journey

by Arthurs, Nia

  I ran down the line of vendors, hoping that one of them could point me in the right direction. By the time I’d given up on this method, I realized that Ivy could be anywhere.

  Why had she run off? Why did she not wait for me?

  These questions flew around and around in my head as I moved beyond the pier. America was a big place. I would have to widen my search.

  I went about the task with determined energy. I had made Ivy a promise. Whether she believed that I would keep it or not was irrelevant. I would find her eventually. I only hoped that I could get to her in time.

  Chapter 4

  Since losing Ivy to the crowds at the pier, I had visited nearly every establishment in walking distance. As dusk turned to night, I gave up on the door-to-door search.

  It was a waste of energy. Ivy could already be kidnapped and sold before I got to her. It was time to test the extent of my abilities.

  Sensing the urgency of my task, I found the tallest point in the bustling city center and appeared on top of it. There, I concentrated on Ivy.

  When I first came to earth, I was constantly bombarded by the conversations of others. The loud, jabbering ball of words and replies had been painful to manage.

  As the years rolled by, however, I became adept at tuning out the noise and focusing on what I wanted to. If I had not made this change, I would not have been able to survive.

  The wind buffeted my ears and tugged at the flaps of my shirt. I stood in the middle of the rooftop and closed my eyes.

  Listening to the chatter of a million people was like being constantly buffeted by the waves on a stormy sea.

  I had to push voices aside in order to focus, but each time I distanced myself from one conversation, another took its place. I concentrated even harder.

  Though Captain Abrams assured that America was moving toward the abolition of the slave trade, I felt no peace.

  Humans were such fickle creatures. Who could trust that they would honor the code of their own lawmakers even if such a sentiment existed?

  Ivy was pretty and young. She would not survive if I did not reach her by nightfall.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead as I strained to catch just a wisp of her. At last, the sweet tones of Ivy’s voice sounded in my ears.

  “Please, I’m not a slave! I’m not!”

  My heart squeezed in terror. Ivy was in trouble. Though I could not see her surroundings, I focused on her voice and raced to the edge of the building.

  “Stop!”

  I approached the wooden barriers of the roof and increased my speed until I was airborne. Without hesitation, I jumped.

  The wind whipped my black hair against my cheeks. I fell freely, focusing on the vibrations of Ivy’s tone.

  “Please!”

  I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was in a different part of the city.

  “No! No!”

  Ivy’s voice had grown faint. I was going in the wrong direction. I appeared on the opposite side of town.

  “Noooo!”

  I was getting closer. Ivy’s tortured words led the way. I followed her voice like a childish game of Marco Polo, teleporting all around the city in a desperate attempt to stumble upon her.

  At last, I heard her shrieks as if she was right in front of me. In the alley to my right, stood a group of four men with dark hair and pale skin. They were shoving her into the covered back of a wagon.

  In the next instant, I was before them. With crazed energy, I slapped the first assailant’s head against the wooden board of the carriage.

  The other two came at me as one. I ducked and allowed them to become tangled up with each other.

  I shoved them in the chest and tunneled into a side-kick that swept them off their feet. I heard the rushing of a heartbeat and turned around to fight the last would-be kidnapper.

  “Huh!” Ivy shouted before hitting the man in the middle of his nose. He held his hand over his face and cursed.

  “Come on!” I grabbed Ivy’s hand. We disappeared.

  I took us back to the rooftop. Since my mind had worked on instinct, my abilities had returned us to the first place I could think of.

  I glanced down at the little girl with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her dark hair was rumpled around her face and her shoulders were shaking, but there were no obvious wounds.

  “Ivy?” I gently urged her to open her eyes.

  When she did, her gaze darted around the solid expanse of the roof.

  “Where am I?” she screamed. “Take me back! Take me back!”

  I stared at her obvious distress, surprised by her vehement response. It was hard to keep the frown from my face.

  Did she know how rare it was for me to involve myself in the affairs of humans? Could she not show a bit more appreciation?

  “What is the matter?” I yelled.

  “Don’t come near me!” she held her hands out. “I have to get back!”

  Even after all that she’d witness of me, it was amusing that Ivy thought her outstretched hands could keep me at bay. If I had wanted to harm her, I could have done it long before now.

  “Ivy, I told you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Ivy inched backwards. I noticed that she was nearing the railing and stepped forward. My movement caused her to shuffle further.

  Immediately, I froze. Her terror was real. Though I couldn’t comprehend it, I did not want to be the one that drove her to her death.

  “Who-who are you?” she stuttered.

  “My name is River.”

  “Who are you really? Are you a ghost? Are you haunting me?”

  “I assure you I am quite real.”

  “Then how do you do those things?”

  “I am… from a place far away.”

  She did not understand, but I could see that I did not have her attention anyway. Ivy paced away from the rooftop’s edge. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “It doesn’t matter. I have to get back to that tavern,” she insisted as she marched.

  I quickly caught up to her frantic strides and held her shoulders. She wiggled and tried to get away, but I held firm.

  “Why do you need to return there? Did I not just rescue you?”

  “The men and women, they need me.”

  “Why do they need you?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

  “I don’t have time to explain. Just take me back this instant!” She folded her arms and stomped her foot. Her stubbornness further confused me.

  “I will not help you until you speak.”

  She sighed and looked out into the horizon. “At the tavern, I met a boy from a neighboring village back home.”

  Tears cropped up in her eyes. The emotion in her voice caused her words to tremble.

  “He was stolen from his family eight years ago as he played in the yard. He has been a slave for all this time and has run away.”

  Ivy glanced up. “The men you fought, they are hunters. They want to take him back. But if he returns to his masters, he will die. Please, I cannot leave them.”

  “Alright,” I agreed. “I will take you back.”

  “Good,” Ivy tossed the word over her shoulder as she made her way to the stairwell. I narrowed my eyes at her back and followed after her.

  THAT NIGHT, IVY AND I returned to the wagon where I discovered within the back of the covers, five men and two women with dark skin and defeated brown eyes. They were bound and several of them had scars all along their bodies.

  “We have come to help,” Ivy pointed to me. “He will take you safely.”

  Thus, without my consent, I became the protector of the runaway slaves. Having no idea how to protect anyone in this land, I did the only thing I could.

  I went to Captain Rodney.

  When we, in the wee hours of the night, appeared aboard his ship the captain was understandably upset.

  But Ivy, with passion in her voice and conviction in her eyes, persuaded him to help us.

  With my abilities and Captain Rodney’s kno
wledge of the hidden roadways and safe places, we managed to see her friends off safely.

  I turned to walk away from their excited faces, planning my next destination, when I felt a tug on my shirt. Ivy stood beside me, her eyes alight with happiness.

  I frowned. “Why are you not going with them?”

  “I know of others,” she whispered. “Why would I leave when there are others we can save?”

  From that moment on, Ivy and I began to help runaway slaves throughout the Americas.

  She slipped into the taverns, visited the washrooms and markets, and mingled with the Negroes in the squares. She was a girl on a mission.

  We assisted countless slaves and saw many to safety. I did not think of myself as a hero, though the gratitude each slave expressed strained to convince me so.

  In truth, there was nothing humanitarian or compassionate about my actions. I helped slaves to freedom because I knew that Ivy would do so whether I accompanied her or not.

  If she went about her missions alone, she would undoubtedly die and my promise would be broken.

  So for six months, I used my abilities to transport slaves safely to the underground roads. Though I could not teleport to locations more than ten miles away, I once carried a group of slaves directly into Canadian territory.

  The work was tiresome, but rewarding. Ivy blossomed the more we assisted.

  She accepted the women as her friends. She bestowed her smile upon the men. The children adored her.

  The people we rescued had been through incredible hardships. Some had stories even more disturbing than Ivy’s. Yet, the moment Ivy drew near to them, the slaves smiled with genuine warmth.

  She seemed much older than her fifteen years. And for the first time since arriving on earth, I realized that I cared for someone.

  It was not in the way that human males cared for their mates.

  It was, perhaps, something deeper. She was like a daughter to me. I kept her safe and she kept me human. The more time we spent together, the more determined I was to keep her away from harm.

  Though Ivy and I were incredibly successful in our endeavors, the threat of capture lingered in the back of my mind. The slave masters were becoming increasingly paranoid.

  Bounty hunters roamed the woods and invaded safe houses that hosted hundreds of slaves.

  I begged Ivy to turn away from her mission. If she so chose, I could have her securely in Canada in less than five hours.

  But the stubborn girl insisted.

  “Who else will help them if we don’t?” she asked.

  To that question I had no reply.

  Ivy dismissed my fears and assured me that nothing would happen to her as long as I was with her.

  She was wrong.

  The day the hunters ambushed us was one of the worst moments of my life. We were betrayed, not by the slave masters, but by one of the men we had set out to save.

  Negro children gathered around my legs as the bounty hunters held their guns to the women’s heads and subdued the men with whips.

  My eyes flitted from Ivy, who was being subdued by a pale man with brown hair and dark eyes, to the children.

  In one swipe, I pushed the little black boys and girls away and stepped toward Ivy.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Women cried in my ears. The hunters shouted. The whips cracked against black backs. The men bawled in pain, but Ivy’s words were the only ones I could hear.

  “Save them!” she demanded as they led her away. “Save them!”

  I looked into her tortured eyes. Saw the fear she’d felt when the raiders first invaded her home.

  Saw the anger that had risen up when they abused her and forced her to walk to the coast.

  Saw the resolution as the sailors bound her in the hull of the ship to be sold in the Americas.

  The memories reflected in the glint of tears rushing into her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. For the first time in our acquaintance, I saw that Ivy was crying.

  “Please,” she screamed, her voice growing ragged to be heard above the sound of pain and fear, “save them!”

  I did. Gathering the children and the women not yet bound, I disappeared. The slaves and I reappeared near the farm that hid an underground railroad.

  The children clung to me. I ached to shoo them away and return to Ivy, but I remained until the organizers of the safe house arrived.

  When I returned to the field where the betrayal had taken place, Ivy was gone. I searched the colony and then I searched the surrounding states.

  I looked for many years, but I never saw Ivy again.

  My promise to her had been broken. With her disappearance, my desire to use my abilities for the world lay shattered in pieces.

  I locked myself away for two hundred years, focusing only on returning home.

  Until I met someone.

  Until I met Tess Hardey.

  Part II

  Present Day

  ~

  Chapter 5

  The car tires sailed over smooth cement roads as I drove through the Belize City streets.

  It was not the first time I had visited the beautiful country bordering the Caribbean Sea, however, much had changed since my 1981 voyage.

  I flicked the indicator and turned into a quaint residential area with quaint, wooden homes. Dogs barked as the car sailed past chain link fences. Street lamps glowed bright yellow against the dark shadows.

  I parked the car across from a tall, narrow house. Wind chimes over the front door clashed happily as the breeze directed its song. Flower pots hanging from the verandah rafters offered long tendrils of green vines.

  It surprised me that Mrs. Sterm had already coaxed such astonishing results from the plants. Paul and his mother had only returned to Belize a week ago.

  I climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Metal clashed against metal with a noise that was excruciatingly loud in the quiet night. I frowned at the truck.

  The modern creation was something I utilized only for show. It was much easier to get around using my abilities.

  Unfortunately, simply appearing in the middle of a grocery store could not be as easily explained thanks to the invention of the modern camera.

  Glancing quickly around for prying eyes, I determined that I was alone on the stretch of the lonely sidewalk. In the next moment, I appeared in Paul Sterm’s workroom.

  Posters of newly discovered constellations hung on the walls. A large clear board with markings scribbled across every inch stood in the center of the room. Telescopes of various sizes occupied the space next to the large window.

  I checked my watch, frowning at the time. It was eleven thirty sharp. Sterm was never late. Perhaps something had happened to him or his mother?

  I breathed deeply and focused on the sounds of the night.

  Every tick of the clock rang like a gong in my ears. In the neighbor’s yard, a cat meowed. At last, I found the heartbeat I was searching for.

  Mrs. Sterm was sleeping soundly in the room upstairs. So where was Paul? And what was the revelation he had uncovered?

  I recalled our hurried conversation, heard the words that had drawn me to Belize echo in my ears.

  “I found something, River!” The man had exclaimed in the caverns of his workstation in California. “It’s what we’ve been looking for, but we can’t discuss it here.”

  Two days later, Paul informed me that he was moving to his mother’s homeland. Encouraged by his preliminary findings, I decided to pack up and follow.

  “Where is he?” I mumbled to the darkness.

  Silence.

  I strode toward his desk, hoping to find the research Sterm had called me over to discuss.

  Aside from Jones, a school chum that also resided in Belize, the meteorologist was the only one that knew of my secret.

  I’d met Sterm by accident. He had mistakenly purchased a telescope that had already been sold to me. When I personally visited his house to demand the item back, he insisted on
keeping it.

  I was pulled in by Sterm’s knowledge of astrology and his interest in the stars. It was he who discovered the importance of the meteor shower that lit the sky every five hundred years.

  Upon further research, I realized the pattern of the comets mimicked that of my ship. Together Sterm and I aimed to discover the exact coordinates and time of my ship’s return to earth’s orbit.

  The man knew how important this information was. What could possibly be keeping him?

  The light from the street lamp caught on a tiny piece of note paper partially hidden beneath a hefty report.

  I slid the documents away from the yellow sheet and skimmed its contents, recognizing Sterm’s crab-like handwriting.

  River,

  If I’m not back by the time you arrive, don’t be alarmed. I’m meeting a girl at Maruba tonight and that means it’s probably going well.

  I frowned, recognizing Sterm’s dry humor. The things humans found funny truly astounded me. I read on.

  We’ll discuss my findings when I return. I think I’ve finally unlocked the pattern.

  It was signed simply ‘Sterm’.

  I crumpled the paper in my hands. Had Sterm truly blown me off for a woman? Did he not grasp the immensity of our task?

  If his calculations were flawed by a half-a-point, I would miss my opportunity. The coming shower was my last chance to return home.

  The likelihood of surviving even one more year on earth was nearly impossible. My body had not been programmed to live forever in this atmosphere and my abilities were becoming sporadic.

  I shook my head. It was time to cut Sterm’s night short. After he dealt with me, he could return to his young lady.

  Straightening the pad, I glanced over the name of the restaurant once more.

  Maruba.

  I shook the computer mouse and planted myself in the office chair. Maruba had not been established in 1981 so I had to do some research in order to locate it. The machine sprang to life as I waited patiently.

  Modern technology was a rather strange medium. In the last twenty five years, humans had taken the ingenuity of internet access and wireless devices to do the most inane and embarrassing things.

  Though I knew my way around a computer, I preferred my sturdy and reliable beeper to the new-fangled means of communication that were so popular to this generation.