Pools of Yarah

by J Gurley

  Kena raced from one piece of machinery to the next examining everything in sight. Grey Eagle was more cautious and remained alert to danger. The others were subdued and bewildered. They stood huddled together near a wall, frightened of the unknown. Soon Kena’s excitement faded, and he returned to the group.

  “Wonderful,” he cried. “I don’t have any idea what most of this is. The rest I have only a vague notion.” He pointed to a series of small desks with darkened screens set into their metal tops. “These seem to be panels for controlling pumps and valves for the movement of water. Can you smell it?”

  “Yes, for some time now.” Grey Eagle spoke quietly, as if in reverence for his surroundings. “We must move. We are too exposed here with nothing at our backs. Let’s head that way, towards the smell of water.” He pointed down the corridor.

  “Yes, you’re right, of course,” Kena agreed, “we need water. Take the lead.”

  The corridor grew brighter as they continued. A soft breeze blew down it, bringing with it the taste of water. Hramack heard a gasp from ahead of him and walked up to stand beside his father. When he emerged from the corridor, the bright sunlight blinded him. He could see nothing until his eyes adjusted to the scintillating glow, but even so, his other senses functioned perfectly. The scent of moisture in the air was pervasive, like after a shower or bath. More animal sounds than he had ever heard except at feeding time for the village goats and sheep filled the moist air. The sun against his skin was pleasantly warm rather than unbearably hot, and he knew it was late in the day. He shaded his eyes with his hand and blinked away the tears.

  Before him was more water than he had ever imagined existed outside his fantasies, a lake several kilometers long and at least two kilometers wide. A stiff breeze had ruffled the lake and waves broke noisily against the massive concrete wall containing it. As he walked farther out onto the broad walkway carved from the solid rock of the mountain, a sense of awe overpowered him.

  “Just like one of the photos in the old books in the library,” he remarked.

  Kena fell to his knees and offered a prayed, “Great Father Yarah, thank you for delivering us to this place.”

  Kena said more, but Hramack paid scant attention to the words. His shock at the enormity of the manmade edifice overwhelmed him. He had seen photos of cities in books, the ruins of the Royal Gorge Bridge, even the sadly decayed city of Colorado Springs, but they paled in comparison to the vista before him. The dam and lake, like the pumping station, were remnants of an earlier age, but they had survived the centuries, had survived the destruction of the great domed cities, and were even now functioning as their builders had intended them to do.

  To Hramack’s surprise, Grey Eagle raised his arms to the sky and intoned in a deep voice, “Great Tawa, Sun Spirit who watches over us, protect us from harm.”

  “Your people have a god?” he asked.

  “Tawa is the Sun God. There are others, but he is chief among them. The sun rules over all of us. My people have worshipped Tawa since long before the biligana came to this land with their Christian God and Jesus.”

  “You know of Jesus?”

  “I have read the Christian Bible, but I place my faith in Tawa.”

  “I’ve never seen a Bible. I read other stories that mentioned it and Jesus, the Son of God, but the Teachings of Nuama has no prophets.

  We believe in Yarah, the One True God.”

  Grey Eagle nodded. “The Christian God was known by many names. One was Yahweh Yireh, meaning ‘the Lord will Provide’.

  Perhaps Yarah derives from that name.”

  “You amaze me, Grey Eagle. You are a warrior, and yet you know more about my religion that I do.”

  “I know only what I have read and remembered, nothing of your beliefs. True, I am a warrior, but fighting is not my entire life. Like your father, I have often wondered about our past, my peoples’ past.”

  He glanced at Kena. “But now I am more concerned with the future.”

  The sun was just beginning to set as they attempted to take in the vastness of the lake. As it slipped behind the tall western peaks, the dancing reflection faded from the lake’s surface. A soft golden glow spread over the water. The breeze calmed, turning the water’s surface into a placid mirror reflecting the snow-capped peaks surrounding it.

  Kena said to Grey Eagle, “As beautiful as the lake is, we must search for a control room where we can learn how to re-establish the flow of water. We will need food, though. I suggest you send out a small hunting party.”

  “Yes,” agreed Grey Eagle and motioned to three men. “There is game by the lake,” he said. “Remain here and secure food for our empty bellies. We will continue our search. Follow us at dawn. I will mark our path. Make good use of your time if we are to have breakfast.”

  Torn between remaining with the eager hunters to explore the lake or joining the search for the control room his father had assured them would solve their problem, Hramack lingered as long as he could, but as enticing as the lake was, he could not leave his father.

  With Kena leading the way, the group corridor travel along the causeway until they found another opening with a corridor beyond. The corridor continued for kilometers, eventually joining three other corridors at a large junction. There they discovered a large room filled with metal desks. A glass screen, like a window, was inset in the top of each desk. As he ran his hand over one, he smiled. “

  “It is not glass, but tightly woven, opaque, metal fibers.” At his touch, the screen burst into life. A dozen split views displayed changing scenes of endless, empty corridors.

  “Televisions,” Hramack exclaimed in delight. “I have read of such devices.”

  “These are monitor screens,” Kena explained. “They show various stations and corridors throughout this vast complex. It allowed the men here to see what was happening in other parts of the building.” He stared at the screens. “These show only empty rooms and corridors. Perhaps if we can get the others working, they will show us what we seek.”

  Hramack went to each desk activating the monitors. Many remained dark, but several screens displayed control panels with graphs, colored lights, and changing numbers. One desk, larger and more imposing than the others, held four screens labeled: Pump #1 Fill Chamber, Pump#2 Fill Chamber, Pump #3 Fill Chamber, and Overflow Relief Pump Fill Chamber. He touched a flashing light on the screen labeled Overflow Relief Pump, the closest one. The screen flickered to life, showing the very room through which they had entered the building.

  “Look,” he yelled, “the tunnel.”

  Kena ran to the desk and examined the panel. He slapped Hramack on the back. “This is it. This desk controls the flow of water into these four chambers.” He quickly followed Hramack’s lead and activated the other screens. All showed chambers similar to the first, except these were nearly full of water. He experimented with the controls on the panels until he discovered the one that controlled the flow of water into the chambers. Locating this same control on the Overflow panel, he used his finger to slide the control to its maximum setting.

  “This should allow water into our tunnel,” he said.

  At first, nothing happened. Hramack was beginning to feel the bitter taste of disappointment. Then a shudder ran through the floor and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the circular openings in the ceiling of the chamber began to rotate and recede into the ceiling. Water poured through the openings.

  “Water,” Hramack yelled in triumph. His elation turned to despair as the water flow slowed to a trickle and stopped altogether. “It’s not working,” he cried to his father in dismay.

  His father was not watching the monitor screen. Instead, his gaze focused on a bank of lights above the screen slowly changing from green to red. A piercing siren began to wail in the control room, startling everyone. The room shuddered as the pumps shut down. Holding his ears against the onslaught of noise, Kena looked up at the monitor screen, his face a mask of panic.

  “No,” he
screamed. He hit the button beneath the blinking light to silence the siren.

  “What happened?” Hramack asked with one finger firmly jammed in his ear in case the blast of noise continued.

  Kena ran his hands over the controls, pounding the unresponsive screen. “The water should flow, but something is blocking it before it reaches the chamber. The pumps shut down automatically to avoid burning out. I must find the problem.”

  Grey Eagle clasped his shoulder. “That noise will bring every Marauder within kilometers to this spot. We must leave.”

  Kena looked at him in disbelief. “Leave? Now?” He waved his hand at the control panel. “Don’t you understand? This device controls the flow of water to our villages. We must repair it.” He began to pry open the doors beneath the console.

  “Do you know how to repair it?” Grey Eagle shot at him.

  Without looking up, Kena responded, “No, not yet, but I’ll learn.”

  Grey Eagle reached down, grabbed Kena by the back of his shirt, and turned him to face him. “We have no time now for you to learn. We cannot hold this room against an attack. We must leave.”

  Kena was frantic, but Hramack, seeing the wisdom in Grey Eagle’s words, took his father’s hand. “We’ll return later, father. We have no choice except to leave.”

  Kena nodded his head slowly, but his eyes remained focused on the monitor. “Okay, but remember where this room is.”

  “We must find the others,” Grey Eagle shouted to his men over the wailing alarm.

  As they raced back down the corridor to fetch the hunting party, the siren went silent.

  “Thank Yarah,” Hramack said.

  They ran into the men from the lake less than a kilometer from the control room. Upon hearing the siren, they had abandoned their hunt. Reunited, Grey Eagle led them along several corridors until they came upon a large room with ceilings ten meters high. A metal staircase ascended to an enclosed room near the ceiling with a walkway running across the room to another door high in the wall.

  “Up there,” Grey Eagle pointed to the walkway. “It is easily defended.”

  Once they reached the lofty room, he set watches on doors and stairs. “We’re safe for now,” he said to Kena, as he rubbed his injured leg. The race to find shelter had placed a strain on it.

  Kena’s frustration consumed him. He paced the room wringing his hands. “We must go back. We don’t even know if anyone heard the alarm.”

  Hramack understood his father’s anguish, forced to flee just as they found the source of the water, but Grey Eagle’s caution was contagious. The thought of confronting a band of Marauders in the corridors frightened him.

  “I’ll send a scout later,” Grey Eagle said to soothe him. “If all is well, we will return.”

  Kena pointed to Grey Eagle’s leg. “Your wound is bleeding. I must change the bandage.”

  “I haven’t time for …”

  “If your wound festers, I will have to amputate it. Now, sit down.”

  Grey Eagle surrendered to Kena’s logic and sat against the wall while Kena removed the bandage, examined the wound, and judged it clean of infection. He applied a salve from his pack and re-bandaged it.

  Hramack watched his father, wishing his clumsy hands were as dexterous, until his fatigue drained him. He had not slept for two day except for brief naps. He chose a corner of the room, threw down his blanket, and collapsed on the floor. Around him, the others did the same. The excitement of discovery gave way to exhaustion. Soon, he was dreaming of Ningcha.

  *

  Hramack woke with a start at one particularly loud outburst of snoring. He looked around at the sleeping group. All seemed in order, but he could not go back to sleep. His muscles protested the abuse he had heaped upon them over the past few days. He decided to walk off the pain. Hawk was on guard and nodded perfunctorily at Hramack as he passed while keeping a sharp eye on the stairwell below. Hramack followed the catwalk along the roof and through a door into an adjacent large room.

  Movement in the corridor beyond the room caught his attention. He crouched and searched the shadows. Finally, he saw a slight woman with red hair skulking along the corridor. She stopped at the door of the room in which he cowered, peered inside, and retraced her steps back down the corridor. He was a bit mystified when she said, “Nothing here, Anderson.” He could see no one near her with which to converse.

  The woman was clearly not a Marauder. Her skin, though sunburned and peeling in spots, was lighter even than Teela’s, a few shades darker than cream. She wore a one-piece jumpsuit and covered her short red hair with a cap. The blue jumpsuit was dirty and ill fitting, and its shimmery material was unknown to him. Could she be one of the caretakers of the pumping facility? He started to return to awaken the others, but then remembered their fatigue. He would let them sleep. He checked to see that he had his knife and began to move cautiously down the stairs and into the corridor to follow her.

  He trailed the woman for twenty minutes. She methodically examined each room along the corridor. He became alarmed when he lost sight of her at a junction of two corridors. He peered down each corridor but didn’t see her. At a slight noise from an open doorway, he took a cautious peek inside and saw her rummaging through a row of cabinets along one wall of the dimly lit room. Quietly, he moved towards her. Just as he reached a large machine across the room from her, a man stepped from the shadows. Hramack quickly scurried back into the shelter of the machine. He, too, wore a blue jumpsuit and cap, but his skin was much darker, almost charcoal in tone. He was slightly taller than the woman and walked with a limp. “I haven’t found anything, lieutenant,” the man said. “How about you?”

  “Nothing here, Anderson,” she replied.

  Anderson, the invisible man she had spoken to earlier.

  “I guess we go hungry then,” he said. “We finished our last food yesterday.”

  “Don’t worry, Anderson, we’re bound to find game outside. We can fish. First, we need to locate the control center. Maybe the communications system is still functioning. They must have had a means to communicate between domes or with the satellites. We’ll find it.”

  Anderson replied, “I’d like to go back home and be welcomed as the man who discovered Earth.” He smiled. “At least that’s what I’ll tell everyone who buys me a drink. I don’t want to live out my life here on this dried-out planet or spend another three days wandering this dead place.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be famous. Maybe the Traders Guild will name a planet after you. We have to get back first. Come on,” she said.

  The man who discovered Earth? Hramack’s head reeled. The pair was not from Earth. They had to be Scattered Ones. The legends were true. Even their speech was different, their accents strange. Many of their words made little sense, but he understood enough to know they were Star People, descendants of the people who had fled Earth a millennium earlier. Why are they here” What should I do? I should tell the others. Yes, I must tell the others.

  As he turned to sneak away, his foot slipped on a length of pipe. It rolled, and he fell heavily, hitting his head against the machine. As the pain swept over him like a tide of darkness, he thought, I should be used to this by now. The last thing he remembered was seeing an angel’s face hovering above his own.

  “Teela,” he whispered. Then, the darkness took him.

  23

  Fox Hunt

  It had been mostly a matter of luck that one of Hardy’s scouting parties had encountered the invaders from the south in the pumping station under Mt. Lincoln. Wisely, they had withdrawn unseen and reported directly to him. He was certain they were the same group that had decimated the salvage party at the warehouse complex near Colorado Springs a few days earlier. They numbered nearly a dozen, and they were cunning, like the fox, but he had more men. Like fox hunts he had read about ion the ancient texts he had collected, he would chase them to ground using his men as the hounds.

  If the strangers were capable of creati
ng the large explosions that had killed so many men in the warehouse, they could be capable of damaging the pumping station. Without water, his dream of rebuilding civilization would die. He had to stop them, yet he could not risk a battle inside the mountain. There was too much delicate equipment to place at risk. He would have to wait until the fox emerged from its den.

  He camped with two hundred of his best men in a valley very familiar to him. It was in this very valley, lying in the shadow of a daunting two-mile high peak, that his mother had informed him of his destiny. Slowly, but surely, her vision – now his vision – was taking shape. He could not let outsiders bring it down.

  He had named the valley after his mother, Ulantha Valley, Valley of Beginnings, in her honor. He had tapped into the underground water lines that once supplied water to Denver Dome and was converting the once barren landscape of the valley into a garden with the abundant water. Only a few people lived there now, their labor more necessary in New Denver, but soon it would become the second city of the New United States. He looked one last time around him and breathed in the aroma of new growth that pervaded the valley. It was for this he was fighting. It was for this he was willing to die, but not before his vision safe.

  Even with such large problems facing him, he could not allow the petty problems to go unchallenged. He had postponed confronting Victor Juarez, his top aide, to admire his accomplishments. Now, he had to lay down the law. Juarez stood perfectly still facing him. No coward, he flinched under Hardy’s intense gaze, finally averting his eyes. Though Hardy was shorter than Juarez was and slighter of build, he had not forged an alliance by being weak. Juarez understood this.

  “I am extremely disappointed in you, Victor. These fields have taken us years to cultivate and to expand, not to mention the cost in water. Fresh fruit and vegetables are saving our lives. Without the excess for trade, we will have no control over the outlying tribes. Faced with starvation, they would turn their attention toward us. If I discover any more unauthorized harvesting, I’ll stake you out in the sun until you shrivel up to the size of a dog. Then, I’ll skewer your carcass on a spike at the edge of the fields for all the others to see when they’re tempted to steal food.” He paused for effect, pleased to see Juarez trembling. “You would make a fine scarecrow, Victor.”