by BC Powell
Sash turns her face to mine, sees me smiling at the children, and gently kisses my lips.
“Touch seems to be an important sense on your plane,” Sash says. “You often use it to reinforce what you feel inside.”
I’m momentarily taken aback by her tremendous insight into a combination of human behavior and animal instinct.
“Of the five senses, I guess it’s as important as any,” I reply. “But yeah, we like to touch.”
“Five senses?” she asks.
“Sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste,” I answer.
“Smell and taste?” she repeats.
I try to think of an analogy to describe a sense she’s never experienced. “Think about how you see different colors with your eyes. Here you only consume sap, but in my world, we consume lots of different things. Each one has a different taste in our mouth, the same way your eye recognizes different colors. When we breathe in through our noses, everything has a different scent. Like your nose and mouth recognize colors too, but in a different way. I really can’t think of a better way to describe it.”
She squints into my eyes for a second, obviously processing the concepts. “I believe I understand,” she finally replies. “In Krymzyn, we have only four senses—touch, sight, sound, and awareness.”
The final word hangs in the air for almost three seconds before it finally translates for me. It seems like several other words were attempted before settling on awareness.
“Awareness isn’t really a sense in our definition of senses,” I say. “Like feeling something with your sense of touch is being aware of it, so we’re aware of all our senses.”
“Awareness is a sense here that comes from inside. It allows us to feel all that’s around us. Awareness is what allows us to blend our light, to feel honor, and to be fully nourished on all levels of existence.”
Considering all I’ve seen and felt here, her explanation makes perfect sense to me. I watch the game of Red Rover for a few more seconds, knowing what I want—what I need—to say to Sash but trying to find the words.
“Sash,” I say, turning my head to her. “I want to tell you something.”
She returns my gaze. “What is it?”
“I’m falling in love with you. I knew it the moment I saw you walking up the hill in Sanctuary.”
“Explain love to me again,” she says.
I’d tried to give her a brief description of the emotion when I told her about my family, but I couldn’t really think of a way to define it for her then.
“It’s probably the hardest emotion in my world to describe. Imagine how you felt when your purpose was revealed to you. The excitement you feel when fulfilling your purpose, when you’re getting the sap. Then combine that with how you feel when you honor the sustaining tree, when you press your face against the trunk. How you feel when you stand on the Tall Hill and see the beauty of Krymzyn. Then add how you felt just a moment ago while watching the children. When you put all of those feelings together for one person and you can’t stand to be without that person—it hurts you inside when you’re apart—I guess that’s how love feels. That’s what I feel for you, Sash.”
She leans to me, kisses my lips, rests her head on my shoulder, and pulls my body against hers. I hold her tight in my arms. I close my eyes and drown myself in feeling her, knowing that she’s it for me—the only person who can ever make me feel complete.
“If that’s how you define love,” she says quietly, “then love is what I feel for you.”
She lifts her head from my shoulder and her eyes flow into mine. The amber consumes me in its brilliance. But I suddenly feel pain in my head and my body begins to shake.
“I’m about to leave,” I struggle to say.
“I love you, Chase.”
* * *
The words floated into my ears from far away. When my vision cleared, I stared into amber eyes that were made of tiny pixels of light.
“I love you, Sash,” I whispered to the computer screen.
I wiped drool off my chin, let my shaking subside, stood up, and looked around the office.
No one seemed to have noticed my seizure. Everyone was exactly where they’d been the last time I looked. If a person had walked by my cubicle, I knew they couldn’t have missed the state I’d been in.
I glanced at a clock on the wall. Only seconds had passed since I’d checked the time right before my seizure. I must have been in Krymzyn for seven or eight hours, but almost no time had passed on Earth.
Chapter 19
“The neuroectodermal tumor is in about the same spot as before,” Dr. Baskin said, pointing to the image of my brain on a computer monitor. “What concerns me more is the growth here.” He slid his finger to a dark mass higher up, just above the center of my brain. “We need to do a SPECT scan to determine if it’s malignant, but it appears to be a glioblastoma.”
“Brain cancer,” I said.
“We don’t know that for sure yet, Chase.”
“That’s what killed Davis, isn’t it?” I asked. “Glioblastoma multiforme?”
“I know how close you were to him. I remember seeing you in the hospital almost every day with Davis, so I’m sure you knew the details of his cancer. Every case is different. I’ve known you for eleven years, and you’re a fighter, a survivor. You’re in tremendous physical condition and, mentally, as strong as any patient I’ve ever had. If anyone can beat this, you can.”
I thought back to when I was seventeen, when part of me wanted a new tumor so I could be taken to Krymzyn, to Sash. I’d never considered the ramifications of a new tumor being cancerous. Fate was playing the cruelest practical joke on me I could imagine.
“If it’s malignant,” I asked, “what are the survival rates?”
“If it proves to be malignant, about fifteen percent for full recovery in your age group. Two years to five years, with treatments, is the average. It really depends on how aggressive it is.”
“Not very good odds,” I said.
“The odds of you making the state cross-country championship ten months after brain surgery were astronomical,” he replied, smiling at me.
My entire body was numb, and I barely heard his words. “When can we do the biopsy?”
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you can. The sooner we act on this type of tumor, the better the chances are for successful eradication.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” I said. “Dr. Baskin, please don’t tell my parents yet. I want to have all the facts first.”
“You’re an adult now, Chase. Legally, I can’t inform them without your consent, and I understand if you want to be the one to tell them. But you’re going to need their love and support.”
“I know, and I couldn’t ask for more than what they give me. I’m very lucky to have my family. I just don’t want to upset anyone until we know exactly what I’m up against.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Did you have a hallucination during the seizure?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No hallucination.”
Two days later, I was back in his office. Phrases you don’t want to hear after a biopsy are “extremely aggressive” and “rapidly spreading”—but those were the words spoken to me. Survival rates were suddenly cut by more than half.
“The tumor needs to come out immediately,” Dr. Baskin said. “We should start radiation and chemo as soon as we can, so I’d like to schedule the surgery for early next week.”
“Let’s do it the week after next,” I said. “We can do it on that Monday, but it has to be the week after next.”
“It’s in your best interest to do it sooner,” he replied.
“Ally will be home for spring break next week.” I paused for a moment then spoke softly but firmly. “I just want to have a normal week with my family. It might be the last one I ever have.”
He stared at me silently for several seconds. “Week after next, Chase. That’ll be fine. I’ll get you on the schedule for first thing that Monday.�
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“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for everything.”
He stood from his chair, walked to the seat beside me, and rested a hand on my shoulder as he sat down. “I’m so sorry, Chase, but you need to stay positive. We’re going to do everything we can to beat this.”
“I know we will,” I said.
I left his office and rode the elevator to the lobby. I’d taken a cab to the hospital, not wanting to risk a seizure while driving. It never even crossed my mind to take the anti-seizure meds I was prescribed after the initial diagnosis. I looked through the glass entrance doors for a moment, saw the row of taxis in front of the hospital, but turned the other way.
I walked to a courtyard where I used to sit with Davis, sometimes talking for hours about his hopes and dreams for the future—the life he never had. I sat on a bench, distracting myself by examining the different colors of flowers in the garden. The stress of the day was almost too much to handle, and I wasn’t at all surprised to feel the throbbing spread through my skull. I gripped the edge of the bench seat with my hands when the first convulsion struck me.
* * *
Full Darkness has already descended. Glaring crimson branches slash the air in front of me as rain batters my skin. I instantly spot Sash at the edge of the meadow. She’s locked in a savage fight with two hideous creatures, her spear a flurry in her hands.
Blood red eyes target Sash. One Murkovin lunges his spear at her, but she twists and dodges the point. Shards of light explode from his head when Sash plunges her spear through his skull. The other Murkovin jabs at her from behind. Sash ducks the stab and spins to face the brute.
I jerk my face to a blur of white on my left. A Murkovin races through the valley straight towards Sash. The clash of metal rings through the hills as Sash battles the other creature.
“Sash!” I scream at her.
Focused on the fight in front of her, she’s deaf to my call. She has no idea the other Murkovin is rushing towards her from behind.
I charge down the hill and aim at a spot in front of him, hoping that I’m fast enough to intercept before he reaches Sash. I drive my feet into the ground, sprinting with everything I have inside. When I reach the bottom of the hill, the Murkovin slides to a stop and whirls in my direction. I launch into him.
My shoulder slams into his gut. I clamp both of my arms around his thighs, tackle him to the wet grass, and get one crushing blow from my fist into his nose. Black blood spews from his nostrils, but his hands clutch my shirt. The beast heaves me above his body and hammers me into the ground.
He rolls on top of me and jolts upright, so I smash my palm under his chin. I feel claws sink into my shoulder as a fist thunders into the side of my head. Sharpened, white teeth glisten through black lips above me. His eyes suddenly dart to a flash of green above our heads.
Light glints from a point of steel inches above my face. The spear tip skewers the creature’s stomach, releasing a spray of Murkovin blood onto my chest.
Another shape soars in from my side. A steel point rips into the skull of the swine, driving him off me and into the ground. I look up to see Sash, both of her hands ramming her spear through the head of the Murkovin. My eyes find the Watcher who reached me first—Balt, the same man who stared at me before the Ritual of Purpose.
“How did so many Murkovin enter the Delta?” I hear Tork’s voice yell. He sprints to us, muscles flexed, anger seething in his eyes.
“We don’t know,” Balt replies.
“Are there more?” Sash calls out.
Two more green-haired Watchers, a man and a woman, run to us from behind Balt.
“No more!” the woman shouts.
Sash glances down at me. “Are you badly injured?”
“I’m fine, Sash,” I reply. “Go do your thing.”
She grabs a stake from the pack on her back, leaps into the wildly swinging branches, and sprints to the trunk. I raise my head off the ground to watch Sash, but everything starts spinning and my head falls back to the grass. Tork leans over me, reaches one hand behind my head, and gently lifts it off the ground.
“Drink,” he says, holding his flask to my lips.
I gulp the sap, my vision clears, and he rests my head on the grass. Tork pours sap from the flask into his hand and rubs it across the gashes in my neck, shoulders, and arms. I feel the wounds instantly heal as a soothing calm spreads through my body.
“Return to the wall and dispose of the Murkovin bodies,” Tork says loudly, looking up at the Watchers. “I’ll meet you at the gate when light returns.”
I sit up, and Tork stands. The three Watchers each grab a dead Murkovin by their black-and-white hair. Spears in one hand, corpses held in the other, they drag the bodies to the east.
“Balt,” I call to him.
When the man looks back, his dark amber eyes shoot straight through me.
“Thank you for helping me,” I say.
He doesn’t nod or acknowledge my thanks in any way. He just holds my stare for a split second before he turns and walks away. It’s not contempt I saw at the Ritual. Those eyes clearly hate me.
I glance up to see the churning clouds slow, the rainfall thin, and light pierce through the clouds. Tork reaches a hand down to me. I take it in my grasp, and he helps me to my feet.
“You honored Krymzyn with your actions,” he says, bowing his head solemnly. “For that, we are grateful.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say to him. “I just got in the way.”
“You put your own life at risk to stop a Murkovin.”
“It’s my honor to serve Krymzyn in any way I can,” I reply.
“That appears to be true,” Tork says.
We both turn to watch Sash. She pulls the last stake from the tree, slips it into the cylinder on her back, presses her cheek to the bark, and rests one palm against the trunk. After several seconds of standing silently, her lips move, whispering something to the tree. She picks her spear up from the ground and returns to where we’re waiting.
“I need to consult with the Watchers to find out how this intrusion occurred,” Tork says to Sash. “Never have so many Murkovin entered the Delta during Darkness.”
“I’ll take care of Chase,” Sash replies. “Contaminated blood has spilled on him.”
Tork turns to me. “Will you forgive me if I leave you in the care of Sash?”
“Of course,” I answer. “Thank you for helping me, Tork. I really appreciate what you did.”
“It was my honor,” he says sincerely.
Tork bows and sprints away to the east. I step to Sash, smiling at her.
“I’d kiss you,” I say, “if I didn’t have Murkovin blood all over me.”
She reaches a hand to my face and rests it against my cheek. “You risked your life to stop the Murkovin.”
“I did it for you, Sash. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know you would,” she says warmly.
“Thanks for killing the Murkovin. I didn’t realize how strong they are.”
She rises to the tips of her toes and gently kisses my lips. “Thank you for stopping him.”
“You probably didn’t need my help, but I couldn’t just let him run up behind you.”
“I need to teach you to use a spear,” she replies with a faint smile. “Are your wounds healing?”
“I’ll be fine,” I answer.
She takes my hand, and we walk in the direction of her habitat.
“I don’t think Balt cares much for me,” I say as we walk.
Sash turns her head to me. “Why do you say that?”
“Just the way he looks at me.”
“We grew together as children in Home,” Sash says after a moment of thought. “He was well focused on his education and sometimes helped the smaller children, like Tela, practice with spears. He’s very skilled with a weapon. Most of the time, he was quiet and distant. As a Watcher, he’s angered by the intrusion of Murkovin. But I’ve seen strange expressions on his face before.
It’s just the way he is.”
“I’ll try not to worry about it,” I say.
I’m not at all surprised that Sash would defend someone in Krymzyn. She’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. But there was concern in her voice, in her explanation, and I know what I saw in his eyes.
Chapter 20
“Awaken,” Sash says as she closes the door behind us.
We walk through the tunnel until we reach the softly lit cavern. The soothing sound of falling water echoes from the other cave. I immediately turn my head to the drawing of Sash, now hanging by two hooks over her bed.
“I look at the drawing before I sleep,” she says while hanging the cylinder of stakes on the wall. “It always makes me smile.”
When Sash talks and when we spoke in the meadow, instead of delaying, words that never translated before now flow with the rest of our words. It’s as though the words that didn’t exist here, words that Sash learned from me, have been permanently added to the dictionary of Krymzyn—or maybe just to Sash’s vocabulary.
“It means a lot to me that you like it,” I reply.
“Sit over here,” she says, crossing the quartz floor to the small table and pulling the stool out from underneath. “You need sap to finish healing.”
The sap Tork applied to my cuts has already stopped the bleeding and sealed my wounds, but my back and shoulders are definitely still sore from the Murkovin slamming me into the ground. I’ve never felt anything that strong. My body was nothing more than a rag doll in his hands.
I walk to the stool and sit, instantly reminded of the same sequence of events happening when I was seventeen. Sash fills two cups with sap, keeping one and handing me the other. As I slowly sip the contents, euphoria sweeps through my mind.
When we finish drinking, we both set our cups on the table. I raise my arms as Sash pulls my V-neck over my head. She lays my shirt beside the cups, picks up the pitcher, and pours sap into her hands. Rejuvenation seeps into my muscles as she massages my shoulders, neck, and arms.
“I missed you,” I say. “I thought about you every moment I was in my world.”