Pools of Yarah

by J Gurley

  “For hundreds of years since that great migration of our ancestors to the stars, the Abandonment, as it has since become known to those who remained on Earth, humanity huddled in enclosed cities as the outside world became too hot, too dry, and too flooded with solar radiation from our angry sun. The planet became enshrouded in clouds, holding in the heat and creating massive storms that lasted for weeks and months. Crops failed. Starvation became routine. Resources dwindled. Then, the wars came between those outside the domes and those inside, and often between rival domes. They ended with the destruction of many domes and the deaths of hundreds of millions. The great Upheaval that followed as the Earth tried to restore balance after the destructive conflict killed many tens of millions more. In the end, only Denver Dome and Kolkata Dome in the subcontinent of India remained. Kolkata Dome has completely shut itself away from the world, and we do not know if it still exists.

  “Seven hundred years into the life of Denver Dome, a new socialist regime gained control. People became mere slaves to serve the needs of the city and its Elite controllers. Religion had been on a decline for centuries. Some had faded away completely. Now, faced with nowhere else to turn, people began to worship a greater deity once again. Old religions melded and old schisms were forgotten. A new religion was reborn: Deism. Yarah became the new name for the One Powerful Force in the Universe, the One True God. With the discovery that our sun had passed through its unstable phase and radiation levels were dropping substantially, the innate desire for freedom and the need to set straight the plight of the Earth united under a religious banner. A great cry went out to open the doors of the dome and let man once again move into the wilderness to make of it a garden. The call went unheeded by the Elite rulers, who feared to lose control. They took harsh measures to maintain their authority.

  “People became desperate to leave and civil order broke down. The authorities arrested thousands and killed hundreds more. I was a computer controller in the communications center, a Tech II, mate to one of the Elite. Though I loved her desperately, I could not sit by and watch citizens killed simply for their desire once again to breathe fresh air. I stole secret codes and reprogrammed one of the satellites of the Global Defense Network. I unleashed the awesome power of its laser upon Denver Dome’s massive outer doors.

  “The destruction was horrific. Hundreds died as a whole section of the dome collapsed where the great doors had once stood. I had greatly underestimated the power of the satellite’s laser. Chaos erupted. Fires raged and people turned on one another in fear and in anger. Sensing defeat, most members of the Elite fled, including my mate. Some say they sought asylum in Kolkata Dome. I do not know. I thought my actions would free our people, but I underestimated their ability for self-destruction. Factions went to war with each other. A radical group captured the water aqueduct that supplied the dome from the Mount Lincoln collection system and destroyed it when driven back, thereby depleting our water supplies.

  “Within weeks, people began dying of thirst. A sense of finality settled upon the people. Then the looting and wholesale slaughter began. It was one of Man’s darkest days: one I wish I had never witnessed. I precipitated it all, I who had underestimated the satellite’s awesome power of destruction and man’s unholy appetite for self-annihilation.

  “I gathered as many people together as I could find: people appalled at the destruction, people who had expressed a deep belief in Yarah and a desire to leave the dome to establish a colony. I knew of a place to the south along the old Rio Grande River system, where underground tunnels had once channeled the overflow from the mountain collectors to the city of Albuquerque. The river is long dry, but the water from the facility still flows periodically through the underground aqueduct. It offers a chance at survival.

  “On Easter morning by the ancient reckoning, we set out on foot for our new home, deciding to leave those bent on destruction to their own fate. It was a hard journey. Within a week, we had lost twenty to thirst, roving gangs from the city, and the hidden dangers of the desert wastes that we had made of our country, our planet. It took two months to make the trip. Of the 325 people who accompanied me, only 205 arrived. The dead marked our trail as surely as a road sign.

  “To our horror, scouts sent ahead reported Albuquerque was long dead. The water no longer flowed. Faced with a lingering death, we changed our line of march to intersect the aqueduct. We found the cause of lack of water. A great earthquake had split the earth, severing the underground channel, but there was no water. We searched but could not find the outlet of the overflow. A landslide had blocked it. A small explosive charge loosened the slide. As I pushed aside one boulder, sweet, clear water burst forth from the crevice in the canyon wall and filled a natural stone basin. We built our homes along the sheltered steps of the canyon, protected from the occasional ravages of the sun and the western winds that scoured the sandy plains.

  “Our technology was limited, but we survived. Over a year after we had established our village, named Ning Cha for Lei Ning Cha, a holy man who gave his life to protect others, I led an expedition back to Denver Dome to try to salvage parts for our electronic devices and see what had become of the other survivors. I should not have gone. The memory of what I witnessed will haunt me forever.

  “The once-proud monument to mankind’s technology was now nothing but a crumbling glass shell surrounding a burned-out city. The desert sands had already claimed large parts of the city for their own. We lost five men to roving bands of cannibals. The rabble groups staking claims to small parcels of city for looting were no better. We had to fight our way through them to exit the city. What had once been a proud and beautiful city was now just another of Earth’s multitude of ruins. Of its two million inhabitants, scarcely a thousand remained in the city and they had fallen to savagery, or worse. If any more survived, I do not know. If they did, they wisely left no signs for us to follow.

  “I alone bear responsibility for what has occurred. I sought to free us from an oppressive government. Instead, I condemned us to death or savagery. I do not take comfort in our religious leader’s claims that Yarah guided my hand and chose us to rebuild Earth. I will pay for my crimes, of this I am sure. I can only hope that the seeds of the future I have planted at Ning Cha will grow to spread over the empty lands we once owned.

  “With the instruments and equipment we recovered at Denver Dome, we can make our life here much easier. We will start afresh and begin to rebuild. Perhaps our brethren will return from the stars one day to find a thriving civilization where they expect to find a burned-out husk. I can only hope.

  “I fear what I have seen has taken its toll on my soul and my body. I am sick of heart and weak of limb. I offer these words not as an excuse but as a history. I did what I did for good, but as often happens, evil came of it. The future should know the truth. Already, the people of Ning Cha are trying to deify me in spite of my protestations. Luckily, I will not live to see it happen. I know I am not long for this world. I pray Yarah will give me the balm my soul yearns for. For you, my descendants, I give the truth. I have asked Nuama Lon Makimbo to see to it that this record remains in our library for all to see. He has become our official chronicler and spiritual leader. Yarah forgive me my sins.”

  Arun Nevil Kane 2-19-3257 AD

  11

  Into the Light

  As he read aloud the final revealing words of Arun Kane, tears filled Hramack’s eyes – tears of sorrow and tears of anger. All he had learned since childhood was a lie. Kane was no Prophet of God. He was a man, fallible and all too human. Hramack could not understand all of the narrative, the technological terms were a mystery, but he knew Kane had tried to do what he thought to be right. He had simply underestimated man’s ability to sink to its lowest level.

  He had gleaned one bit of good news. Kane had described a water collector in the mountains northwest of Denver Dome that overflowed into the canyon system through the very tunnels they were traveling. If so, they could easily find the si
te and set about to once again free the flow of water for the village, though he had to admit to himself, he had no idea how they would accomplish this feat. Hramack shrugged off this negative line of thought. There could be no room for doubt or they might as well turn around now. Their fate in Ningcha was sealed. They could not go home. They were wanted men under penalty of death. Ahead lay the unknown. The unknown was far better than certain death.

  Kena had said nothing as Hramack read Kane’s words, but Hramack had seen the anger building in him. “Our village founders used religion as a means of controlling the people,” he burst out, “to keep them together, even if it was for their own good, in much the same way as the Elite used their authority over the populace of Denver Dome. Nuama controlled the records. Eventually, the truth was forgotten or purposely hidden. That is why we are such a threat to the Council and Chu Li. Kaffa knew the truth but could not reveal it. As High Priest, Chu Li knew as well. I wonder if all the Council is implicit in the charade. They cannot allow us to tear down what they have worked so diligently to build. They are afraid, Chu Li most of all. Not of us, but of what we may find. It’s understandable.”

  Hramack listened to his father’s words, but was not comforted. “How could they lie to us to keep us hidden away in Ningcha?” he shouted. “We are fewer in number than those that founded the village. Kaffa knew, or surely suspected, that the village was slowly dying, and yet, they did nothing. Now, it may be too late.”

  “We will try though,” his father said as he stretched out on his blanket to sleep.

  Hramack tried to stay awake to brood, to give vent to his anger, but exhaustion soon closed his eyes, too.

  *

  He awoke with his father standing over him, shaking him gently.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  His father placed a finger over his lips to silence him. “Come. I smell cooking behind us.”

  Silently, he and Kena crept back down the tunnel until they could see the dim glow of a campfire. The aroma of roasting meat filled the tunnel. They heard voices speaking softly. On their bellies, they crawled closer. Chu Li and five others sat around the fire. Kena and Hramack hid behind an outcropping of rock and listened to snatches of conversation among the men. In that way, they learned of the murder of Eithan and that they stood accused of his death. Kena pointed one man out to Hramack.

  “Travin is a skilled hunter. He could track us even in the desert above. We must be very careful.”

  When the men had settled in for the night, Kena and Hramack returned to their own camp.

  “They think we killed Eithan, father,” Hramack gasped. His mind whirled with emotions. Anger, surprise, and fear fought for dominance. “But it was he who freed us.”

  Kena shook his head in dismay. “I see Chu Li’s hand in Eithan’s death. He means to give us no out. If we return to clear our names, he will have us killed for Eithan’s death.”

  “Can’t we talk to them? You know Travin. He’s a good man.”

  To Hramack, it seemed only reasonable that men who truly knew Kena would know him incapable of murder. He worried that Teela would believe the lies about them. Could she think him capable of such a thing? No, Kaffa would know the truth and would reassure her. He felt better knowing that she, at least, would not believe the lies.

  “Chu Li would not give us the opportunity to speak to him. We must outdistance them. Gather your possessions, quickly.”

  They breakfasted only on dried fruit and water. By midday, they had covered many kilometers. The tunnel widened and the going became easier. Both felt relief as the tunnel became less confining. Periodically, they caught brief glimpses of the sky through cracks in the tunnel’s ceiling high above them. Throughout the day, they trudged steadily northwards. Protected from the full wrath of the sun above, they were able to make good time.

  Because of the threat of pursuit, they did not tarry long to eat or sleep. Quick meals on the run and short rest periods wore on Hramack, but they covered many kilometers. As dawn arrived on the morning of their third day out, they came upon a section of the tunnel that had collapsed, leaving a steep pile of rock and dirt along one wall. They had not seen nor heard any sign of their pursuers all day. Hramack hoped they had abandoned the chase and returned to the safety of the village. Few people, aside from Kena, had gone as far into the Burning Lands. Hramack looked up at the sunshine and open space with longing.

  “Can we not take a look around?” he asked.

  Kena stared at Hramack for several moments before nodding. “By my account, we should be almost to the wall of mountains north of the Burning Lands and well into the Empty Lands beyond,” he said. “This journey would have taken us twice as long if we had been forced to walk above. Perhaps a short rest above will relieve your claustrophobia.”

  Hramack started to protest, but his father’s smile told him he was not mocking him. They scrambled up the slope over the rocks and debris, careful that each step could send them plummeting to the bottom of the slide. Already the heat was becoming almost unbearable after their three-day respite underground.

  Hramack struggled with his heavy pack and missed his footing on the loose rocks. If not for Kena’s quick reaction in catching his shoulder, he would have fallen the ten meters to the floor of the tunnel.

  “Careful, son,” Kena admonished. “If you are injured, we would be forced to return to Ningcha.”

  Hramack understood the unspoken implications. “Yes, father,” he answered.

  He tested his footing at each step before placing his full weight on it. As he emerged from the tunnel, the full intensity of the sun hit him like a physical blow. He donned his sunshades to shield his eyes from the sun’s harsh glare. As he looked around, he noticed a grove of trees ahead of them, between them and the mountains. “Look, father! A forest,” he shouted.

  Kena, too, wore his shades made from smoked glass. He turned to peer in the direction Hramack was pointing. After a few moments, he answered, “No, not a forest, I think. It is a large grove of cacti, giant saguaro. I have seen smaller ones in my travels.”

  Hramack was disappointed. He had seen pictures of forests and would like to see one. He satisfied himself with the knowledge that he had never seen a cactus grove either. Scattered cacti grew in the Burning Lands near their valley, but mostly smaller species such as cholla, hedgehog, and fishhook barrel cactus. Sedges, bitter grass, mesquite, and creosote were more prevalent.

  “Why don’t we take a look?” he suggested. “Maybe we can find food there.”

  Surprisingly, Kena agreed. “We can get water from some of the cacti. That will make our meager supply last longer.” He looked at the grove, and then back at the tunnel. “The grove seems to be growing in a line directly along the tunnel. Perhaps we can find another entrance further ahead and we won’t have to backtrack.”

  Hramack was overjoyed at the prospect of leaving the dark tunnel if only for a few hours. As harsh as the heat was, he could endure it better than the pressing darkness. It was less than ten kilometers to the cactus grove, but compared to their rapid progress underground, the journey seemed to take forever. After an hour and a half of walking up one hill and down the next under the grueling morning sun, they finally reached the edge of a wide depression in the desert floor. As he neared the edge, Hramack began to realize just how tall the saguaros were. The lip of the depression had hidden their true height from view. They seemed suddenly to leap upwards at him, thrusting straight into the sky. The smallest were at least five times the height of a man. Many were ten times a man’s height. They towered over Hramack and Kena, marching left, right, and onwards as far as they could see.

  In the shelter of the giant saguaros, a mini-ecology thrived. Dwarf creosote plants fought for space with bitterroot and sage. Many of the plants Kena sought for his medicines grew here in great abundance. Almost without thought, Kena began to gather specimens and catalog their location in his mind. Hramack wandered around the grove marveling at the many-armed giants surroundi
ng him. He caught glimpses of desert hare and lizards scurrying through the brush. He even saw a pair of roadrunners nesting beneath a cholla.

  “I think I’ll set out a snare or two,” he said, but Kena was intent on his specimens and did not acknowledge him.

  Two hours later, Hramack found Kena sitting in the shade of a gnarled old saguaro tasting bits of cactus fruit. He quickly spat them out saying, “They aren’t ripe yet.”

  Hramack held up two lizards and a small hare and smiled at his father’s approval.

  “You caught them; I’ll cook them. I found some sage and wild garlic that should improve their taste.” As Kena spoke, he gathered a small pile of dry cactus skeletons and placed them inside a circle of stones. Across the stones, he laid a long, thin, flat stone. He set fire to the wood and waited until the flat stone became very hot, like a griddle. Cutting thin strips of meat from Hramack’s kill, he laid them on the stone to cook. As they began to sizzle, he crumbled the herbs onto the cooking meat and added small pinches of salt and pepper that he carefully rewrapped and placed in his pack. “We’ll feast today,” he said as he pulled out pieces of bread and cheese from his pack.

  Hramack and his father sat quietly in the shade of a saguaro and watched the meat cook. The aroma made Hramack’s mouth water. So intent was he on the meal, he failed to hear the snapping of a twig nearby. However, his father was more vigilant and slowly reached for his bow. The thud of an arrow sinking into the cactus above his head stopped him. Hramack watched in surprise as his father stood slowly with his arms spread wide. Hramack rolled across the ground and grabbed for the bow. A heavy blow to the side of the head sent him reeling. Blackness rushed in.

  *

  Hramack slowly regained consciousness with the tall figure of Travin standing over him, a look of disgust on his face. Nearby, Anseer stood aiming an arrow at Kena’s chest.