The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey

by Millerson, Brady

  An empty tin can exploded from off the top of a rock approximately three hundred-fifty meters down in the valley below. From the prone position, John lifted his head from his weapon’s stock and smiled with delight, as it had been the furthest distance that he had been able to hit a target with any degree of accuracy. Outfitted with a military uniform and hip pack, and adorned with the grass and branches methodically detailed in the books for blending into the environment’s greenery and brown rocky terrain, he was camouflaged within the natural world, completely eliminating his bodily silhouette.

  Sitting up, he placed the rifle across his lap and pulled out a binocular, looking-glass apparatus from the pouch hanging at his side. The panoramic view from his vantage point allowed him to see for many kilometers in all directions.

  He and Sofia had, through their daily walks, established a circumferential boundary of safety from which they had ventured from on only a handful of excursions to the south and west since their arrival at the crash site. They had set up markers denoting nearby hidden supplies, which were helpful at first in keeping their minds in a positional perspective when roaming about. But after several weeks the guideposts were of little use, as the two of them had become so intimately acquainted with every nook, every tree, every outcropping of rock, that there were no natural entities within their confines that were unknown to them.

  After scanning the perimeter around the hill, John looked to the sky. As the Savior had not made its presence known just yet, he could make out the last few wishing stars taking flight across the open expanse of purple and blue.

  Of peculiar interest to him during this general time of the morning was not so much in the increasing of his weapons skills as it was in the careful observation of the stars, which were to him obviously not naturally occurring phenomena. John’s morning shoots allowed him to monitor that perfect moment when the planet was angled just right to the Savior’s rays, allowing him to study the transient vapor trails that dispersed the early light as the vehicles retreated from the northern territory before disappearing into the vastness of space. Where, he wondered, were they traveling from, and where were they heading?

  The flying warehouse with which they were now using as their home, he concluded, had to have been a wishing star at some point in time before it met its untimely end. Like one of the small, wheeled transporters used in the City, but of a greater caliber and capacity, these airships appeared to be used for transporting goods to other citizens of the planet in far away lands. That was the only explanation he could think of as to how to reasonably apply the names Red, Golden World and Raw to the scant information that was available to him.

  Sofia was just finishing up with the final touches of her skirt when John entered through the door. Setting his weapon down beside the bookcase, he passed her by. Without saying a word, he vanished into the bedroom.

  “How did the shooting go today?” she inquired, clipping some thread and resetting her needle.

  “It was alright,” John called from the bedroom closet.

  Entering back into the room dressed in a fresh shirt and clean pants, he walked over to the bookshelf, carefully scanning through the rows of titles. Looking over the top of her stitching machine, Sofia watched him with a cautious, but curious eye. He was acting rather odd. Pulling out several books, John flipped through the pages of each one rather haphazardly before returning them back into their rightful slots. She could see that he was not actually reading any of the material inside.

  “What are you doing?” she asked uncomfortably.

  “Just looking for something,” he said, in a mildly harsh tone.

  He was rather annoyed by her inquisitiveness, as he knew that bringing up the pretentious wishing stars would cause a contention to arise between them.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  Placing another book back into the empty space from where he had originally pulled it out, John turned around with a frustrated sigh, sitting down on the sofa chair beside him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back

  “I was just looking for some pictures, that’s all.”

  Flipping off the light on her machine, Sofia strode over, taking a seat on the short-legged table in front of him. Desiring to say something she would not regret, the distress in her face was apparent. By the demeanor that John would often return home with after each morning’s session, it was more than obvious to her that his behavior had something to do with the those terrible northeasterly lands. She was well aware that, over the past few weeks at the least, he had been up to something other than shooting.

  “You really want to travel up there don’t you?” she said.

  Letting out another sigh, John moved his lips around as if contemplating his next words. She was on to him, and perhaps, he thought to himself, there had been a subconscious effort behind his actions with the hopes of bringing the avoided topic to a head.

  “I don’t know what it is, girl. There’s been this… I don’t know how to explain it… pressure, I guess.”

  “Like a headache?” she asked.

  “No. No, more like I need to do something, but I’m fighting against it.”

  “It has to do with the wishing stars, doesn’t it?” she said with a sullen tone.

  “That… and other things,” he said, mumbling under his breath.

  “What other things?”

  “Golden World, Raw. What are they? Where are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know you don’t. Neither do I. But I feel so compelled to find out, as if there were answers there.”

  “Answers to what?” Sofia’s voice was a mixture of amazement and sadness.

  Sitting up and leaning forward, he met her eyes. After pausing for a moment he looked around the room. Then, waving his arms in the air, he said, “To this. To everything around us. Why did that old man help us? What is this broken down machine we live in? Why do we call that glowing ball in the air the Savior but our parents just call it a Great Star? I just want answers. Maybe then I’ll be fulfilled and I won’t have this nagging sensation pulling at me all the time.”

  Excusing herself from the room, Sofia was speechless as she walked down the hall behind him, disappearing into the kitchen area. The conversation was ending as it always did when the wishing star topic was brought up. John could hear her opening a cupboard. By the sound it, she was gathering a cup from one of the cabinets and pouring herself something to drink.

  As she had not returned for several minutes he leaned his head back once again, closing his eyes. But the sound of her returning footsteps brought him back to an upright position. Taking up her recently vacated seat, Sofia held a cup out for him.

  “Here, it’s fruit juice,” she said with a half smile.

  Taking the cup from her hand, John pressed its rim against his lips. The sweet sensation filled his mouth as he savored the first sip. Although they had an easy access to all the new and exotic foods, neither of them had grown too accustomed to any particular item yet so as to begin taking them for granted.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said in the past, about searching to the east and to the north. Whatever Red is, I really don’t want to know. Mr. Sanders strictly warned us not to ever go up there. Wherever the Highway leads, it’s not good. We have it so nice here, John. During all those nights on the rooftops of Labor,” she said, as her lip began to tremble and the watery pools began to form at the corners of her eyes, “this is what I had wished for… nothing more. I have no desire to find out what Red is, or what Golden World’s people are like. But I promised you that I would follow your lead, no matter where it was you were taking us. If to the north or to the east is where you are going, then fine, I’ll go. But, please, promise me this: after you find what you’re looking for, you’ll bring us back here to live out our days in peace. And you’ll never speak another word about going up there ever again.”

  It was difficult for him to see her so afflicted. Her redden
ed, tearing eyes were the result of his doing. He did not want to commit to the journey at this time knowing that it grieved her so. But on the same note, he could not let it go, leaving that gaping hole in his heart, that yearning for closure before going on with his life.

  As they sat together among the twinkling brass of the ornaments of the room, John finally made up his mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caught between light and darkness, the sky was a tapestry of blue and purplish layers of paint, as the stars appeared to be rolling up inside the Savior’s canvas, disappearing along the easterly expanse. The land was still dim and layered in the misty, low lying clouds, rolling with the sounds of the chirping and humming insects and the scurrying about of the nocturnal beasts. Silhouetted against the early morning display, John and Sofia climbed up to the top of the first of many hills that would be standing in their path as the two of them began the journey into the dreaded northeasterly lands.

  Taking every extra precaution that he could think of, they began their tour with a more northwesterly traversal, with John leading them in the direction of the darker skies. As far to the side towards which the Savior would set as they could keep path with before necessitating an easterly run, the safer they felt. They would travel to the last northwesterly point on the map that the Sanders had documented. Then they would cut eastward, heading into uncharted territory.

  Clothed in the attire of the soldiers pictured on the walls of the Education, they were equally armed with a single shoulder-fired weapon held across their chests. While they each had one hand on the rifle, remaining on stand-by with a finger resting outside their trigger guards, the handheld firearms strapped to their thighs waited at the ready for the other. Unlike the original journey to their home, they were now well suited to the environment of which they were traversing. The oft repeated walks and southerly excursions that they had made in the past prepared them well for the long trek ahead, as they were both saddled with the burden of carrying sufficient supplies to sustain them for several days.

  On paper, the plan was simple, if everything went according to John’s expectations: they would carry just enough food necessary for their well being, sustaining them just long enough to get them to their destination. Once there, they would either resupply their stock, or, if the situation was found to be incompatible with his scheme, they would abandon their backpacks and ammunition satchels, returning to the safety of their home with only their weapons in hand and as much of the load as they could carry within their pockets. The return trip would be a relatively quick and easy one, as the burden would be much lighter.

  Considering that they were prepared to such a greater extent than any previous venture, John was feeling an over-confidence of which both he and Sofia were well aware. It was a presumptuousness which was causing a growing consternation and a trickle of doubt in Sofia’s mind about their abilities to survive for an extended period of time within the unknown dangers of the northeasterly wilderness.

  The misty exhalations were an uncommon sight for Sofia, as she was mostly accustomed to her indoor activities at such an early hour of the morning. The grass was wet with dew, softened upon its top layer by the settled moisture. With each step, she felt her feet sink a few centimeters under her weight. It was no wonder why John would often return home after his morning sessions covered with patches of mud.

  They had only been traveling for approximately thirty minutes. Having never carried such a heavy load upon her person before, Sofia was already beginning to feel the warm wetness of perspiration dribbling down her chest and building up in the pits of her arms. With such a long road ahead, she settled it in her mind that the discomfort was going to be the norm for quite some time.

  John had Mr. Sanders' sketch book in front of his face, lit up by a miner’s light that was strapped across his forehead. The miner’s device was one of the more useful items of which their warehouse rummaging had uncovered. Using the book in conjunction with the compass, he was planning the course that they would make once the Savior’s light manifested in the east.

  The still dimness upon the land caused him to unwittingly whisper when he spoke.

  “It’s strange how the details of the map suddenly cut off once it passes a certain area to our north,” he said, “even though it’s rather far from the forbidden area.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want to take any chances, either. By getting too near to those places, I mean,” Sofia remarked with purposeful implication.

  “You’re probably right. When we get to the last checkpoint in a few days, we’ll slow ourselves and be a little more careful.”

  Sofia knew John understood what she was implying by her comment, but he was not going to take the bait.

  Climbing to the top of a steep grassy mound as the Savior’s edge peered over the easterly horizon, awakening the world with its presence, John and Sofia could see that the western landscape was similar in spirit to that of the southerly area from which they had ascended. The hills were thick with tall grass, and as green as emeralds, with patches of trees spreading for kilometers, running throughout the valleys.

  Looking over his map once again, John could see that there was not much that was scaled with accuracy from this point forward. In fact, it appeared that there were many visible peculiarities that should have been jotted down as structural waypoints that were purposefully left omitted. Much of what they were now encountering was officially left in John’s hands to fill in the details, as Mr. Sanders did indeed warn them against entering the northern region. And, by the lack of specifics drawn upon the map, the old man had been quite serious.

  There was an almost nostalgic feeling during their first few days of journeying, as the world seemed so expansive and endless. The skies above were so blue and inviting. Unlike their first encounter with the wilderness, they had all the provisions they needed to ensure their safety, and with that simple crutch to ease their burden, it gave them a greater freedom to enjoy the beauty of the world visually and audibly. But, the uneasiness of which John felt inside about keeping Sofia in the dark, so to speak, regarding the lack of details in the map as concerned the northern territory, was a burden of which he alone knew he had to bear if he wanted to prevent any sort of mutiny on her part. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted her to know that they had been traversing an uncharted region, that he was no longer a map-reader, but had become the mapmaker. But he knew that she would demand that they return home, and so he kept it to himself.

  The Savior’s rise on the forth day brought with it the soothing heat of the morning. Taking a rest at a nearby watering hole, the sojourners removed their long-sleeve shirts, hanging them over the tops of their backpacks and relieving themselves in the privacy of the bushes.

  As the soil began to dry and harden, the work that they required of their legs eased up. The trek through the grassy hills became more conducive to their intended brisk pace.

  The feathered creatures of the sky were joyfully playing in the rays of light, racing from tree to tree. They joyfully sang below the soft clouds of cotton-like puffs that strolled across the blue expanse, bringing John and Sofia’s memories back in time to their first encounter with the delicate country.

  As the brightness of the day had removed the fear of which each night’s darkness brought, John and Sofia took advantage of the utility of their slings, dropping their protective guard and allowing their weapons to hang over their shoulders. With their hands becoming free from their battle ready posturing, climbing the hills and rocks, and walking together in general, became much more pleasant.

  The air was so fresh and invigorating, encouraging that child-like, exuberant feeling of adventure that had become stifled by the complacency that arose over the past several months of living so luxuriously.

  But, the time of the morning for the wishing stars to make their appearance by way of their thin, white tails was, once again, at hand. Sofia, seeing John looking up to the sky, made every attempt to ignore him. As much
as she was enjoying the thrill of their walk together, she did not want to discuss the potential reality of the artificialness of her beloved celestial objects.

  From the top of a grassy knoll on which they found themselves, Sofia and John could see the misty fog of the north rising above the land before dissipating under the heat of the Savior. As far as their eyes could see, the terrain rippled for kilometers in waves of beautifully rolling, green hills and patches of blooming trees. To the far north there appeared steep, peaked highlands that arose from the soft green of the valley below it, white tipped and blackened at their bases, forming a wall of nature’s own design. It would have been an intimidating sight to behold under most circumstances, but it was of little consequence at this point in time, and merely another opportunity of adventure due to the rejuvenated hearts of the youthful couple.

  John, looking over the area of the map of which Mr. Sanders had decorated with the red Xs, could see that their destination was situated at the base of one the mounts hidden among the cordillera. As his old friend had neglected to add in the details as to which mountain in particular it was that he was referring to, John figured that their own investigation would eventually bring about its true location.

  Finding a shade tree along the same outlook, the two of them dropped their gear and settled into its coolness. The sweet sensation of the moist cake, of which they retrieved from out of their packs to snack upon, enlightened their senses, satisfying the hunger that the past several hours of walking had induced.

  “Somewhere over there at the edge of the forest, we’ll find whatever it is that this red area is referring to,” John said, pointing towards one of the snow-covered peaks.

  Hearing him speak of the area of which Mr. Sanders strictly warned them against caused a sudden nausea to build within Sofia’s stomach. Wrapping the last half of her pastry in its aluminum shell, she placed it back into her sack.