“Now I know how bugs feel,” Rico said, eyes huge with wonder.
“No shit,” Dave muttered.
It was a different world than the beach. A constant hum electrified the air, like the trees teemed with locusts. It was warmer, and humid, too. Standing on the beach had made Hitomi feel tiny because the eerie uniformity stretched out in every direction. This gave the same feeling, but in a different way. Rico was right. She felt like a bug.
“Let's rest a minute,” Indigo said. Rico plopped down on top of a fallen leaf, followed by Gramm. It supported their weight. She sat next to them, relieved for the rest. Dave walked around a little, exploring.
“It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while,” Dave said, bending down on one knee to examine the foliage. He picked up a scraggly twig and snapped it in half, looking at the broken piece. “This wood is different than anything I've ever seen.” Hitomi rubbed her hand along the leaf, and it was smooth like plastic.
“I seen this movie once,” Rico said, “where these people get shipwrecked on this island, and everything's bigger. They have giant chickens and stuff there. And giant crabs, too.”
“Giant chickens?” Gramm asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, the thing comes out of nowhere and eats a bunch of ‘em.”
Gramm looked sick.
“Hey, look at this,” Dave said, emerging with a round chunk of metal in his hands. It was a sort of old helmet, but it was much too large to fit any of their heads. He brushed some moss off it. “It's really light.” Several scorch marks marred the silver exterior. Various worm-sized holes peppered it.
The sight of it surprised Hitomi. She didn't want to think about what really wore that. It was different than the helmet the holographic angel had worn. This was more sinister looking, and it made her uneasy.
“Whoa,” Rico said, jumping up. “Put it on your head.”
“No way,” Dave said. He peered uncertainly into the opening. “What if there's brain goo or something?” He shoved it at Rico. “You try it on.”
He took a step back. “I ain't touching that thing.”
Indigo grabbed it from Dave's hands. “You guys are all wimps,” she said, only half-jokingly. “It's just an old lump of metal,” she said, lowering the huge helmet over her head. It was so large, it covered her shoulders.
“See?” Her eyes and nose were behind the metal. “Whoever wore this was huge!”
The helmet hummed. A clear screen whirred down over the opening. It emerged from within the metal. The visor was cracked. Indigo quickly ripped the helmet off and threw it. Sparks shot from it. The visor attempted to retract, but the glass cracked some more, and a jagged piece fell off. The humming stopped.
“That thing almost melted your face off!” Rico said.
“From now on, we don't touch anything,” Indigo said.
Hitomi nodded her assent with the others. They rested for a long time, only Rico and Dave talking. It was clear that whatever each of them had expected, it certainly wasn't this. She stared long and hard at the helmet, wondering what it meant. Eventually she looked away, not wanting to think about it anymore.
Hitomi got a chance to see some of the creatures of the forest. Mostly bugs, like mutant dragonflies, and a few purple ladybugs that buzzed like chainsaws through the air. Some were as big as her fist. An occasional deep roar or high-pitched howl shattered the air. Whenever that happened, they looked at each other uneasily. She suddenly had an urge to go back into the tunnel.
“I guess we better get going,” Indigo said after a while.
“Maybe we should make camp here for the night,” Dave said suddenly. “We don't know when—or if—it gets darker here. I don't need sleep, but I'd rather be in a familiar place if it starts to get dark.” Something roared in the distance to accentuate his point. He pointed at a cluster of normal-sized trees. “That trail hasn't been made by man. It's a game trail. We don't want to be on it at night.”
Dave had been uneasy and kind of dopey before, but here he seemed at home. Hitomi knew Alaska was mostly wilderness. She hadn't even noticed the obscure trail leading away from the entrance to the tunnel.
“I haven't had to take a piss the entire time I've been here,” Rico said. “And I'm tired, but not sleepy tired, know what I mean? It's different here.” Everyone nodded.
“I'm not hungry at all,” Gramm said.
Hitomi wasn't either, now that she thought about it. And she didn't even have any dinner last night. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“We can't wait forever for night. We continue.” Indigo headed off toward the trail.
Rico shrugged and followed along with Gramm. Dave, grumbling, went after them. Hitomi, not wanting to be left behind, had to sprint to catch up.
Although it wasn't as dark as the tunnel, they still needed the flashlight once they left the clearing. Each of them took their lights from their packs, but Hitomi was the only one to get hers to work. At first they thought all of them were broken, but Hitomi tried each one, and they all turned on. Between the five of them, they had a total of twelve of the long, black flashlights. She tried showing them how to squeeze the handle, but no one could do it right. Indigo got a short blast out of hers, but the effort seemed to wind her.
Even in this, I'm different. Hitomi was forced to lead the way, but she kept losing the thin, almost invisible trail. Dave corrected her as she strayed off course. Gramm seemed to think they were going in the right direction, but he kept muttering about how huge the forest was.
Hitomi knew she should be fatigued by now, but her body kept plodding away. Like Rico had said, she was tired, but only a little.
Her mind wandered back to her last few months in Osaka. She willed the thoughts away, but they wouldn't go. It seemed inevitable that she would have to live this over again. And again. Even in death, I still must face it.
* * * *
Nigel had called while she was out with her brother. He had gotten the time zones messed up again. The angry look on her father's face told it all.
Oh no. Her little brother saw the storm brewing and fled to his room.
“My daughter is not to speak with this boy again! Do you understand?”
Hitomi lowered her head in deference, her heart pounding. “Yes, father.”
She sat there for several long minutes while he berated her. Each accusation and criticism a physical blow. Tears streamed down her face. Poor, sweet Nigel. He was always getting the time difference wrong. She would call him later, collect of course. His family was rich, and they could afford all the calls between Osaka and London.
“I should never have allowed you to go to that school. You have been corrupted by them,” Father said. “I have spoken with the telephone service. No calls, incoming or outgoing, will be allowed to London.”
Her heart tightened. She would still find a way. Nigel was her love.
“Furthermore, I have spoken with this boy's parents. And they agree. No more of your collect calls will be accepted. This boy is out of your life, and you must forget him.”
The tears continued to plop onto the floor. “But, father...”
“No,” he said loudly. There was a finality in the words, and they echoed through the room. A long moment of silence passed. Hitomi didn't move from her position. “I am through with you,” he said finally, leaving the room. His strong, musty scent remained, oppressive like a storm cloud, and she didn't move until even that was gone.
“Hitomichan, you must learn obedience,” her mother said later. “A good girl is obedient. A good girl is thoughtful to her father's wishes.”
But Hitomi's thoughts never left Nigel. How would she contact him? If his parents weren't accepting the collect calls, then they would never speak! It was like being told she wasn't allowed to breathe. She'd have to send him a letter. But would his parents intercept it? Maybe she could send something to one of her other friends in England. They would help her for sure. Wouldn't they?
* * * *
&nbs
p; As they walked, Hitomi became aware of the prowling creatures all around them. Indigo was constantly putting a firm hand on Hitomi's shoulder, telling her to turn off the light until the creatures passed. Once, something that felt like an octopus tentacle slithered by her leg causing her to shriek out in surprise. But when she flashed the light down, it was gone. She had to constantly fight the urge to just run, run away. But there was nowhere to go.
In the distance, she caught sight of a sleek jaguar-like creature hanging on the trunk of an enormous tree. Not too close, but not nearly as far as she'd like. Her entire body went rigid at the sight of it. The animal was red like the sky of this world. It leapt from one massive tree trunk to another. It landed as if the vertical trunk was flat ground. It turned and bounded off.
“Just keep moving,” Dave said, his voice terrified. “Don't let it sense fear.”
Several other sounds rose too, like the scampering of feet. But whenever Hitomi turned toward the sound with the light, nothing would be there. Sometimes she would sweep the light through the trees, and they'd hear a distant screaming, like the far away creatures were afraid of the light.
After several more hours, they came to another clearing. This one was more spacious, and a bubbling, winding creek lazily drifted through. Soft, green grass grew on either side of the creek, and even a few purple orchids grew in tight clusters. The whole place had the sweet aroma of a flower shop. The constant tension of the forest's darkness finally caught up with her. Hitomi just wanted to curl up in the comforting grass and never move again.
Despite Gramm and Indigo's cautions, both Dave and Rico immediately dropped to their knees and began to hungrily drink from the shallow water. Rico leaned too far forward and fell in, causing a splash. He jumped out and shook like a dog.
“Don't laugh at me,” he said to Dave, who hadn't.
Hitomi suddenly felt parched, and she drank some as well. It was cold, too cold to not be ice, but it filled her with an incredible golden warmth, spreading quickly from her stomach to the tips of her fingers. Each sip was as soothing as an eight-hour nap.
“I wish I had a canteen,” Rico said ruefully.
Dave skimmed his hand across the top of the creek after he finished drinking. “I wonder why it's so cold,” he whispered. He had kind of a strange, sad look in his eyes for just a moment. Then he jumped up.
A few minutes later, probably when it became clear the water wasn't going to kill them, Indigo drank some. Then a reluctant Gramm got on his knees.
After that they sprawled out on the grass, resting and staring up into the red sky.
“Do you think we missed the night?” Rico asked after awhile.
“I don't think there has been one. Maybe there never is night,” Gramm said. “In my dreams it was never dark here. Not once.”
“Now I'm tired,” Indigo said. She yawned and turned on her side in the grass. “It just jumped up on me all of a sudden.”
“Yeah,” Rico said. “My body is giving out on me.”
Gramm grunted in agreement.
“We shouldn't rest here for too long,” Dave said, a peculiar urgency in his voice, almost scared. “Not by the water. We can't sleep in this world anyway. We only rest.” His voice was confident, yet far away. He disproved his own words by falling fast asleep.
Hitomi closed her eyes. It was peaceful here. Somehow the slight breeze from the beach had made its way down through the opening in the trees, and it was a soft, sensuous hand on her face. Like a mother to a baby; or a lover, like Nigel, to his beloved. She drifted off to a place with no worries, no fears. There was no fire, no pain. No demons to carry her burning body from the fulminating darkness.
Monsters
Dave dreamt.
Running. Running. Running. His breath pounded like the low C on a piano, over and over. Through the bush, through the trees. Almost home. But the wolf was there. Like always. It was behind him, in front of him, everywhere. Its howl shattered like glass through the darkness. Suddenly close, its hot breath searing his neck.
Dave had to make it home. Sometimes he would make it. But these minor victories were actually a curse. They offered hope in a world that should be hopeless.
Right away he knew something was different. Although it was unmistakably a dream, it was more lucid. He felt his feet pounding against the forest floor as he ran, the trees whipping by, the individual sounds and smells.
He quickened the pace, his body shuddering. The wolf, black like the absence of light, was on his heels. Its claws, the size of rakes, sparked against rocks, filling the air with the stench of burning needles and trees.
His shoulder exploded in a red puff, and he crumpled. He flipped over to face the dark wolf. His body wracked with the feeling of a hundred jagged fishhooks worming into his flesh. He sobbed, unable to fight. Here there was no dying, no dulling of the pain. It had never hurt like this before.
The creature towered over him, four times the size of a normal wolf. It was more vivid, more real than ever. Its red eyes glowed with victory, and the pungent stench of rotting meat made his eyes water. He fought the urge to vomit. The beast dug a heavy claw in his chest to pin him down.
But something was different this time. The creature customarily went right to work, slowly, but matter-of-factly. He reluctantly opened his eyes, and the wolf just stared intently at him, its head cocked slightly to the side. Its claw ripped away, leaving four rivers of blood down his torso. Oh God, the pain. It sat down and continued to study him.
A new panic struck. What if this wasn't a dream at all? What if this was real?
“You have died,” the wolf said. The words were like a slap to the face. It had never spoken before. And it was now clear the “it” was actually a she. She was speaking the strange angel language. Her voice was powerful, but musical. It made her even more menacing.
“Yes,” Dave ventured, his voice barely a squeak.
The creature's mouth turned down slightly. She stood, muscles rippling. She sniffed him several times, each snort like the blast of a bellow.
She turned and trotted off toward the darkness. Before she dissolved into the murk, she turned and whispered, her voice seasoned with venom.
“Welcome home.”
* * * *
He awakened with a start. He wasn't screaming, but paralyzed. They were still sprawled on the green grass near the brook. Everyone was asleep. Crimson light streamed through the opening in the trees. He sat up, still quivering. A bizarre animal drank by the water. It was a mix of wild pig with the back legs of a kangaroo. It bounded off, making a chittering bird noise. He stood, his knees threatening to give out.
He tried to push the memory of the dream away. It didn't mean anything. It was just another, typical nightmare. His shoulder ached with phantom pains. He checked to make sure his limbs were all still intact, and they were.
Just another dream. You dealt with them before, and you can deal with them here.
But the thoughts were not comforting. At first he was sure they wouldn't have to sleep or eat. He still didn't have to go to the bathroom. But it seemed everything here worked like home, but slower. Except for the healing of wounds. The cut on Rico's forehead had closed up in minutes.
He decided to let them sleep, and he would watch over them.
Dave had a natural affinity to the wilderness. Almost like Buck in Call of the Wild. Sometimes when he'd be walking home through the woods, he'd get an incredible, rapturous feeling. His senses were stronger, more attuned. He was aware of every movement around him. At times like that he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the trees.
He'd even been an Eagle Scout, and he had to endure the taunts of his entire high-school football team, especially when he put the scout uniform on after practice. But Dave always took the abuse good-naturedly. He tried to keep a sense of humor about everything. It was why he had so many friends.
But none of them knew about his double life. About the nightly terror and pain. As a child, he'd never dared go o
n a sleepover, making up excuse after excuse. When he was ten, he and his parents moved a little deeper into the woods to keep from disturbing the neighbors at night. By the time he was twelve, just a year after his father had died, the dreams became worse, more frequent.
Welcome home.
The words haunted him. What did it mean? Had he been here before? Like a reincarnation thing? Just a dream. Dr. Metcalf had taught him to think that. To say it out loud if he could.
“Just a dream,” he whispered.
He dipped his fingers into the freezing water. It gave him an uncomfortable déjà vu, but he didn't move them. We all have to die somehow.
He ventured upstream while keeping a watchful eye on the others. He still marveled at how gargantuan these trees were. They looked to be a trillion years old. He ran a hand across the gnarled bark of one on the edge of the clearing, merely the width of a football field. The wood crackled with energy, as if the tree breathed. It was an unsettling feeling, as if he was in the presence of royalty.
He turned back.
To his shock and dismay, three brown, demonic creatures sulked through the clearing. Two sniffed at Rico, and the other closely examined Indigo. They looked to be almost human, but smaller. About four feet tall each. They had thin, elongated faces with gleaming teeth and clawed fingers. Like evil caricatures, a mix between human and weasel. Even from this distance he could see their unwieldy, black eyes. They were lifeless, pools of oil. Short, brown hair covered them. Each carried a spear several feet taller than themselves and wore a breastplate that looked to be made from the shell of a hulking black beetle.
The Shivered Sky Page 3