And then it returned to its warm, dark home.
Somewhere in its primal brain, the beast recalled a time when more creatures moved underground, squirming and sliding, fleeing, but most of those beasts had been gone for so long that it only had a vague memory of them. It had adapted. Now it only had the soft, warm meat above in the surface light, filling its stomach until it needed food again.
It was hungry now.
The beast pushed itself through the sand and soil.
A rhythmic pattern shook the ground above. Food. The beast tore through the ground, pushing dirt and sand aside, creating a new path as it headed for the surface.
Flesh.
Its quills moved in a pattern born of hundreds of years of practice, casting aside sand and soil, weaving left and right instinctively. It kept its maw closed, using its featureless face to bore through the earth, avoiding larger pieces of rock that might hurt it.
The vibrations grew louder, more intense. Something fled.
Prey.
The food moved faster.
Fearing those few, infrequent moments of failure, the beast sped up its chase.
When the vacillations grew almost too loud to bear, the beast gave a final, heaving push, parting the last bit of ground and diving upward, opening its maw and finding its prey. It clamped down before the creature could escape. The moving flesh wriggled and squirmed, fighting its last moments.
The beast swallowed.
A last spear of sunlight warmed its back before the beast tore through the earth again, creating a new passageway, taking a new lump of screaming flesh with it, mostly whole.
If the prey had any foresight, it might know that occasionally, the beast’s food reached its stomach alive, where its digestive acids gave it a slower, more painful end.
But the beast had no concern for any of that.
For now, it only knew that it was still hungry.
Chapter 13: Gideon
Streams of quiet men filed into the Comm Building, bringing the smell of bonfire smoke and sweat as they tread through the dark doorway and gathered around the meeting table. Gideon remained stoic at the head of the table, watching the young men lining up behind it in deep rows. He looked from his Heads of Colony to Thorne, who sat beside him. Many of the young men surrounding them had been sworn to their posts recently. He recognized them from the Induction Ceremonies. The shuffling of boots and bodies segued to a preternatural silence, as each man awaited their leader’s words.
Wyatt, Brody, Saurabh, Horatio, and Thorne held serious expressions. Only a man who knew them as well as Gideon could see the flicker of unease in their eyes. Folding his hands in front of him, feeling the weight of all the people in the room, Gideon called the meeting to order.
The last boot step silenced.
Gideon’s eyes grazed the rounded edges of the satellite dish. A flickering memory of his father returned as he recalled sitting behind him for similar meetings. But few had been as grave as this.
“Each of you has been sworn to protect the colony, to obey your leaders without question,” Gideon said. “As you know from your Induction Ceremonies, your main duty is the colony’s survival. You are given only enough information to work your posts. But too many myths or rumors abound. Today, it is time to ensure that all of you have the same understanding.”
A young Watcher held a fearful swallow. A few men stiffened.
Wyatt cleared his throat, sitting taller in his chair. “For as long as you have been on duty, you have been trained to watch for outsiders. Some of you know the exact reasons for this. Others may not.” He looked around the room, focusing on a few of the men in front. “Most of you are aware of the stranger who entered our colony with one of our hunters, both of whom we have contained. We are going to explain the origins of this stranger and his colony. Before we do, know that you will speak none of it outside these walls, or you will face punishment.”
Thorne drilled some of the younger Watchers with his gaze. “Do you understand?”
The young men nodded in unison.
Gideon allowed a moment to pass to reinforce Thorne’s message, before he went on. “Wyatt will explain what you need to know.”
An anticipatory mood settled over the room as all the men turned back to Wyatt.
Wyatt shifted in his chair, placing his hands flat on the table. “As you are aware, our First Generation was abandoned in the midst of a mining mission, many generations ago.”
The men nodded, as Wyatt repeated the truth they’d understood since birth.
“For a long time after the ships stopped coming, our people tried fruitlessly to contact our counterparts, using communication devices like this one.” Wyatt lifted his chin at the round relic in the center of the table, guiding the men’s eyes to its strange, metal contours, even though they had only a cursory understanding of the object. “For a while, our people lived with the hope that the supply ships would return. We tried contacting our people through every means we knew. As you know, no answers came. Survival on Ravar grew incredibly difficult, without supplemental supplies.”
“And so our ancestral leaders acted on contingency plans. They built stronger structures in between the cliffs, protecting them from the winds, some of which we live in today,” Wyatt kept on. “They ordered the people to focus more carefully on our crops. They fed themselves for a while, partially by hunting some of the creatures that have since gone extinct, like those whose skeletons we have on the wall.” Wyatt motioned near the front entrance. “For a while, the First Generation survived. But months of silence from our leaders in the sky created arguments. Tensions mounted. People blamed each other for the lost communication with Earth and the ships. Eventually, a few dim-witted leaders had a theory about why communication was lost: they thought the miners hadn’t worked hard enough. They pushed these people to go farther into the caves, gathering enough raw materials in the hopes that when we proved our worth, the ships would respond. Meanwhile, they kept sending messages into the emptiness about our progress.”
Wyatt paused, getting to the meat of the story. “It was a fool’s directive, born out of desperation. Too many miners got sick. Too many died of weakness, or thirst. Others were lost and never found. The tensions grew worse, as people lost family members and starvation became a reality. Eventually, the dim-witted leaders decided on a new course of action: they suggested that our people leave, seek new resources, and forge another settlement. Of course, this decision led to many arguments among the more logical people of the group. Most of the First Generation understood the planet was barren, with little resources to find. But the ignorant ones insisted on their suicidal plan. Tense arguments followed. Some of those arguments led to violence. And that was how our First Generation fractured.”
Listening intently, one of the young Watchers asked, “What do you mean?”
“Eventually, about half the population of Red Rock split off into another group, taking half of the supplies,” Gideon took over. “They trekked off into the desert, under the same, ignorant leaders who sent so many to their deaths in the caves. The caveat from those that stayed in Red Rock was that they could never return, and they could never speak of them again.”
“They formed New Canaan,” someone put together.
A few Watchers looked around in disbelief, realizing the same thing as the vocal individual.
“That is the name they settled on, although we wouldn’t know it, until we met some of their representatives a decade ago,” Wyatt cut back in, as the crowd shifted its focus back to him. “For generations, those pig-headed people lived on their own, far away from Red Rock. Those of us who knew the story assumed that they died long ago.”
“And this man is from the same colony?” asked a young Watcher, confirming what most had put together.
“Yes, he is from New Canaan, as you probably heard him say at the edge of the colony,” Gideon said.
The room fell silent again as the men processed the information. A few shifted, look
ing between the leaders.
“So, these people have lived here as long as we have, far away from Red Rock?” the young Watcher asked.
“Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “Thousands of people.”
“Thousands?” The Watcher asked incredulously.
Keeping his tone calm, Wyatt said, “More than live in this colony, as of now.”
“Incredible,” a Watcher said under his breath.
“We spoke with those representatives at length, but some of the same disagreements that led to our initial fracture returned,” Wyatt continued.”The stubbornness of the forefathers carried on to their sons, and the sons of their sons, as well.”
Gideon shook his head disappointedly. “We shared some information with each other about our people, and even discussed some of our common problems. For a small time during those meetings, it seemed we would help one another. And then some arguments arose that we couldn’t see past. We kept our discourse civil, but we made it clear we would not speak again. We parted ways. We decided not to tell our people much about them, because it would only lead to false hopes, or cracks in the order we have fought so hard to preserve. So we kept it quiet.”
“We’ve heard nothing from them, until the arrival of this man,” Wyatt reiterated. “To clarify, we do not believe we will hear from them, either.”
“This man is a criminal, according to the markings on his head,” Gideon said. “We believe he escaped New Canaan.”
“How do you know?” The Watcher asked.
“During our meeting with the representatives, they told us how they handle criminals. They have ways of managing their people that we are fortunate not to need,” Wyatt said. “The markings betray his transgressions.”
“Our feeling is that the man is alone,” Gideon said. “Just to be safe, we will keep a strict vigilance. We will increase our guards on the cliffs, and at the edges of the colony. We will call on some of The Watchers whose eyes are no longer good enough for the cliffs, or whose hands are too brittle for spears, to rejoin us. Those older men will patrol the alleys, while our most capable men guard the front, rear, and cliffs of Red Rock. We will protect our colony, as we have always done.”
A strange silence came over the room as a few of The Watchers traded glances, mustering the courage to ask another question on the tips of their tongues.
Finally, a freckled man with dark hair stepped forward. “The hunter woman screamed some things on the way to the jails,” he said. “Many of our people are whispering about the things she yelled.”
“A monster,” someone said quietly, before quickly hushing.
Without hesitation, Wyatt said, “A story they concocted.”
Gideon elaborated. “Our thought is that the criminal made up the story, convincing the young woman of its truth, or coercing her into it. We think he was hoping to find a life here. Perhaps he meant to prove his worth by telling a tale that would give him value, in our eyes. He told it so he could stay. Or maybe they had a shared hallucination, born out of dehydration.”
“We do not believe it has any merit,” Wyatt said.
“What will you tell the colonists?” the man asked.
“We will inform the people that a band of others exists, in a small settlement called New Canaan, to address some of the circulating rumors. And we will tell them they are no threat. We will tell them the incident is isolated, and that the danger is contained. We will tell them the population of that colony is of limited size.”
“Our people have enough worries, with hunger, and the storms,” Wyatt said. “We need to avoid a panic. Unrest will lead to chaos. We need to keep order and civility. We need to mitigate the damage. That is why you will speak nothing of what we have told you today.”
“What about the man and the hunter woman?” one of The Watchers asked. “Will you let them go?”
Gideon shared a look with his Heads. “We will discuss that shortly, and come to a consensus.”
“We will share our decision with everyone once we make it,” Wyatt said.
“For now, hunting is forbidden in the desert, as Thorne has relayed,” Gideon said. “In the meantime, keep order, and maintain a watchful eye on the edges of the colony and the cliffs. If you see anything suspicious, report it directly to us. If the heavens are with us, we will never see these people of New Canaan again.”
**
Gideon dismissed the young Watchers, watching them file across the room and out the doorway into the night, until only his Heads of Colony, Thorne, and a few of his most trusted Watchers remained. When the door was closed and the last quiet voice had faded, Gideon traded a look with Wyatt.
Leaning across the table, meeting Gideon’s eyes, Wyatt asked, “Do you think they believed us about the monster?”
“For the sake of Red Rock, I hope so,” Gideon said gravely. “If the creature from New Canaan comes here, there is nothing we can do to stop it. Their problem will become ours.”
Chapter 14: Neena
Thin morning light lanced through the small window at the end of the annex, casting a rectangle of sun in the center of the hallway outside of Neena’s cell bars. She pulled a cramped arm from beneath her head and blinked. A barrage of aches and pains coursed through her, as the last of her dark dreams slipped away and she awoke.
“Neena, are you up?” came a voice. It sounded like the question had been asked more than once.
She coughed, blowing away some of the dirt on the floor in front of her, and crawled to where she could see Kai, standing in his cell and speaking to her. She changed focus, looking down the other direction of the hallway and toward the door for the guard who had watched them for most of the night. He was gone.
Pointing to a flask in the front right corner of her cell that she hadn’t noticed yet, Kai explained, “The guard left water for us. He didn’t leave food, though. I’m not sure what that means.”
Neena crawled over to the flask, retrieved it, and uncapped it. The lukewarm water felt like a gift from the heavens as she drank.
“I’d do anything for that wolf meat we had for breakfast yesterday,” Kai said with a grim smile.
Neena lowered the flask. For a moment, she felt a deceptive comfort.
Then she remembered Kai’s lies.
She was still just as uneasy with her jail mate, and their few, whispered conversations had done nothing to earn her trust. She set down the flask, unsure of when she might receive more.
She looked back to the door at the end of the hallway, listening to the murmurs emanating from the other side. For all she knew, The Heads of Colony were still determining their fate. Or maybe it had already been decided.
“I’m not sure how long the guard will be gone,” Kai said. “Maybe now would be a good time to finish our conversation from last night.”
Clearing her throat, Neena asked, “How do I know you won’t tell me more lies?”
“I can’t make you believe me,” Kai admitted, lowering his head. “But I’d like to explain. I feel like I owe it to you. The next time they pull one of us away might be the last time we see each other.” Kai smeared some dirt from his exhausted eyes. It looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. She forced away her sympathy for him.
“I’ll listen, but I can’t promise that I’ll believe.”
“You were right about what you said yesterday,” Kai started apologetically. “I made up the story about the hunters. I did it so you would trust me.”
Neena blew a long sigh, but she didn’t respond.
“When you found me in the desert, I was running from the creature, just like I told you,” he started. “You surprised me. I’d never met anyone outside of New Canaan. I was grateful that you helped me, and I still am. But when I saw you, I saw a way to start over. If I’d known how my selfish lies would affect you, I wouldn’t have accompanied you back here.”
Neena clenched the bars tighter.
“Everything I told you about New Canaan was true,” Kai said. “The oasis, the people and the houses t
hat I live among, and my family. What I didn’t tell you is that I haven’t spoken with my family in a long time, because up until about a week ago, I was in a prison not much bigger than this one.”
Kai swallowed as he prepared to tell more.
“I don’t know much about your people, other than what you’ve told me, and the brief glimpses I caught while they dragged me here, but it sounds as if our people have the same struggles. Meals are hard to find, and too many are starving.”
“Up until I was eighteen, I lived with my mother and father. My father was a skilled hunter, and he taught me how to spear Rydeer and catch rats. We kept ourselves fed, but not full. And then my mother got sick. Her illness came on suddenly. It didn’t kill her, but it gave her a weakness that even the healers didn’t understand. Some days, she could walk and tend to chores, but others, she couldn’t leave her bedroll. The healers had no cure. All we could do was look on while she grew worse.” A faraway look crossed his eyes. “The illness got bad enough that my mother needed constant care. So I started providing for my family, while my father watched over her. Some days, I hunted, like my father taught me. Other times, I grew desperate, and I stole.”
The offense was mild, compared to what Neena had worked up in her head.
But who knew if it was true?
“I took whatever I could scavenge, from some of those who had more,” Kai continued. “I did it for my family. They caught me several times, and I served my days in jail. But things got no better. I kept thieving. I found better ways to avoid being caught. And then I slipped up and did something severe enough to ensure that they wouldn’t let me out.” Kai took a breath.
“What happened?” Neena asked, breaking her silence.
“I found a way into our leaders’ building. The table was set with a large meal, prepared for one of their yearly ceremonies. I managed to ferret away a week’s worth of food, but it was too much to use at once, so I stashed it. They caught me later, retrieving more of it.”
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