by Clara Wake
“Your little friend Jake is in the Chamber,” he calls out, hoping and pleading for him to show, to surrender as he looks around the forest, snapping and breaking branches as he stomps through.
Nickolai’s back is turned to them, miles ahead but as he hears the words, Nickolai stops in his tracks. Frozen. Hesitation soon drowns him.
“We both know he won’t survive down there!” The Captain adds on, his tone starting to get aggravated after no movements or sounds nearby. Maybe he is just talking to himself.
However, Jake’s words flood his mind – screaming – as a reminder to keep going. If you don’t go, I’ll have done this for nothing. Swallowing the large pit of guilt lodged in his throat, Nickolai bites back tears before he blinks them away and continues forward.
The farther away he slips, the worse the shouting becomes until the men unload their clips into the forest, spraying their bullets and destroying the trees, bushes, and animals in their path. Yet, they continue to march on, searching.
Hours pass. Nickolai is uncertain of what day or time it is. Even with his compass, he could swear he is becoming lost in the forest until he hears the gentle strokes of water colliding with rocks. He peers towards the soothing sound, to find a very thin river. Flowing delicately, it’s extremely long and leads towards the larger mountains.
Across from the river is what looks like a ditch that leads towards more stable and civilized grounds. Nickolai’s unsure, but from what he can tell, that’s where he’s meant to go.
Taking a moment, he moves up the stream before he notices something giving off a very vile and repulsive odour, suffocating the clean and fresh air. Something appears behind some trees next to the river, so naturally, he investigates although it proves that whatever is behind the trees is responsible for such a revolting scent.
Finally stepping closer, he freezes as his eyes linger over the object: tall and flooded with flies – buzzing and blanketing the article.
Half of the pile is dipping and sagging into the river, floating. His heart drops, and he shakes his head as he stares at the large pile of naked dead women with their abdomen sliced and cut open, dumped and left to rot by the river. Most of their eyes are open in death.
His palm smacks against his mouth and nose, swimming in disbelief as he steps back and quickly twists and turns his back towards the murderous pile. He attempts to stable his breathing, but he’s struggling as anger riddles his bones.
This is The Promise Land?
His hands shake violently as he blinks through thick tears – the image is burned into his irises, and he’s unable to restrain himself. “Fuck!” He screams, letting the word tear through the forest and wrap through the wind. It doesn’t help – letting the anger go— it only makes it worse. Nothing can fix how he feels.
His palms soon smack on his knees, as he arches forwards, unable to stand. Trying to control the bloodlust within. “Fuck…” He repeats, as tears shield his eyes before his stomach turns and twists and he’s bending over more to puke and vomit the remains of his stomach into the river. The intense odour, visuals, and anger are colliding into one giant ball in his stomach.
Leaning over the river, Nickolai finally gets a glimpse of himself, as his reflection glistens and bounces off the small ripples and waves. Staring back at him, he focuses on his hair growing back and how large his ears appear – but he soon narrows them on his earrings and necklace. Two things from those he loves.
His image soon becomes distorted and disfigured as he scoops the water and roughly washes his face trying to wake up.
His eyes drop, as he hangs his head and steps back from the river. Running his hands through his short hair, he sighs deeply and turns completely away from the pile, before he sees a body further away on its own. He’s soon in a battle with himself, whether to look. Hesitation drains him before he pulls himself towards and steps over to see why this body was left alone.
His shadow drapes over it before he comes close enough and he’s immediately down on his knees. Staring at her, her eyes wide and foggy. Lifeless and gone.
His throat instantly tightens, as his eyes narrow on her beautiful face. Skye’s body was dumped, just like the others. Yet – here she is – alone and cold – was Jake here too?
Silent sobs slip from his gritted teeth as tears slowly slip from his eyes. Yet he’s filled with so much anger as he blinks looking up at her once again, his shoulders dropping. “I’m so sorry” He softly tells her, swallowing back the tears that threaten his eyes and squeeze his throat.
Slowly, he leans forward and gently removes some of her stray hair away from her face before he gently closed her eyes. He’s soon completely blank, emotionless as he kneels beside her. His eyes soon draw to her hands and see the same bracelet she made him still attached to her small wrist.
He slowly takes one of his leather braided bracelets off and places it around her wrist before taking hers and wrapping it around his. At that moment, he shrugs off his backpack and goes through it trying to find something. When he does, he takes a second before shooting off into a nearby bush with vines tangled around the large hovering tree. He begins to dig a large hole, with his bare hands and a large tree branch he found close by.
After hours of digging a considerately deep and long hole surrounded by ferns, bushes, and protected by a large oak tree hovering above, Nickolai wraps Skye up in the shirt she stole and carries her to the hole – her grave. After placing her gently inside, he steps up and stands over her. He doesn’t want to progress further. He doesn’t want to continue but he has to. He can’t leave her so exposed and forgotten.
Gradually, he buries her. The sand slowly covers her as he piles the sand on with his own bare hands. He doesn’t care how long it takes, he knows if he stops and leaves her there his heart will ache even more than it already does.
After another few hours, the sun slowly drifts and falls below the trees. Nickolai sits there beside her. There’s dirt beneath his nails and coating his arms. He continues to sit with her, wishing she was there with him and at that moment, he realized how alone he truly is.
He intends to leave the second the sun peaks and illuminates the sky; he moves towards the steep ditch, and starts his journey into the unknown, but not before turning back to take one last look at Skye, with his fashioned cross, with her name on it. He takes a second, before turning away and never turning back.
Days have passed, possibly weeks. He’s too exhausted to even bother knowing. His eyes are strained and burning from constantly focusing on the map, and he’s walking and marching until his feet ache and feel as if they’re bleeding. Sure, he’d rest, but he never gives himself enough time – as much as his body needs. He’s followed what feels like the longest road in existence and he truly has no idea what exists outside the walls of the compound.
The occasional cars would whoosh and zoom by, but never stop and on the short side, someone would stop, but Nickolai kept walking. As if he doesn’t need the help, they offer. He has no idea how to approach people or speak to anyone than those within the Compound. How they’d react to him being the monster he is.
Eventually, as the day slowly crumbles to an end, another car passes by and instantly stops as they see Nickolai walking alone and exhausted. Stopping, they are quick to lower their windows and wait for him to slowly come closer. “Hey, do you need help?” The young man asks politely; he is kind. He doesn’t judge him, even as he has a bow strapped to his back, odd-eyes, and long elven ears. The man wants to help?
Nickolai stops and stares at him. Blinking softly, his throat flares up and he’s clearly unsure on what to say. He darts his eyes around for a second, swallowing hard before he looks down to his map. He has no idea where he is going.
“Hop in, buddy. I’ll take you where you need to go.” The young man nods and swings backwards to open the door.; which repels and swooshed open vertically.
“Uh…” Nickolai finally manages to mutter, feeling his stomach turn; he’s confused as to why
someone is being kind and can only assume the worse. He shoots his eyes back down to his map, before he slowly steps forward and cautiously takes a seat. The smack of the door closing startles him, the sounds are too unfamiliar. His eyes are wide and alert.
“Where is it you need to go?” The young man asks before he continues down the longest road in existence.
Looking down to his map, Nickolai is embarrassed and confused. He doesn’t know how to pronounce the name of the street or town he’s headed for. “I – uh…I don’t know how to say it,” he stammers, as his heart jumps up into his throat and steadily beats.
“Can I look for you?” He asks kindly, before letting off a chuckle. “I can’t tell you the last time I’ve seen someone using a map! Everyone uses their phones or virtual reality devices to do it for them.” He laughs as he retrieves the map from Nickolai’s shaking hands.
“Ah, that’s further into the city. It’s fine. I’ll take you there,” he instantly chimes and beams softly as he hands the map back to Nickolai.
Nickolai hunches and lowers himself down into the back seat, hugging his backpack. He is clouded and shrouded in anxiety, nervous and on high alert. He knows this guy will keep asking questions, keep prying, and it makes him start sweating.
“What’s your name?” There he goes, the rapid-fire questions are coming, and Nickolai braces himself as much as he can. His heart is erratic in his chest.
“Nickolai,” he roughly replies, avoiding eye contact and trying to find something else to focus on. The bullet questions start. Why he has a bow? How he has weird eyes? Is he an elf? It is endless.
“Ha! Fancy that, my name is Nick,” the young man exclaims, excited as he smiles.
Nickolai can’t help but cringe at the name, the nickname The Governor gave him. He can’t stand it, and even if this man appears to be very generous and kind, he just can’t shake that name at all.
“Hey, this might be a personal question but…” he starts, before chewing his bottom lip, and pinning his eyes to Nickolai’s ears quickly before focusing on the road. “Did you get surgery or something for your ears? They look so legit!” He stops there and nods. And there it is...
Nickolai immediately shuts down with the question, unable to speak; he manages to quickly nod his head in response. A lie, but it is better than the truth.
“Wow, man! That’s awesome!” He shouts in response, clearly impressed by Nickolai’s ears, unaware that he is in fact, an elf.
Nickolai can’t help but mentally stitch this man’s lips together, constantly running the same few words through his mind. Shut up, please. He slowly closes his eyes and leans back. Feeling that sense of calmness slip over him, he drifts into a very relaxed state of sleep, finally getting the rest his body needs.
“Hey! Wake up!”
Yelling until Nickolai finally flashes his eyes open to see he’s fallen asleep and into a very deep sleep at that. He shoots upwards and gasps loudly before he looks to the driver, who’s parked outside of a house. Nickolai turns to look at the house, very large, with plenty of garden and space, surrounded by trees and almost barricaded with the same type of fencing The Compound had. He’s left to cringe and feel an unsettling feeling bubble in his stomach.
“Here we are,” he adds, after finally waking him up. “This is where your map is marked,” he continues, trying to make it clear enough for Nickolai in his very dazed moment.
“Right…” Nickolai finally responds, as he nods and turns to the door handle, with no idea how to open it until it magically swings and swoops open, springing upwards.
“Thank you,” Nickolai starts, as he grabs his bag and steps out of the car in a rush, finally, turning back to Nick, who gives him a small smile.
“Good luck buddy!” Nick replies, with a gentle smile before he moves on, leaving Nickolai on the side of the road, staring up at the gate that’s slightly open.
Placing his bag back on his back, Nickolai slowly marches towards the gate before slipping through and walking up towards the house. He has no idea what to prepare for or who it is. Fear thickens his veins as he steps closer towards the door. Stalling, he stops and stares at the door. Blinking slowly, he can feel himself pushing back and stepping backwards before the door swings open, and Nickolai is quickly drawing his bow, ready to shoot an arrow into the man’s eyeball.
“Nickolai?” The older man exclaims in a wide and shocked gasp. He is much shorter than him with thick dark curly hair and a beard falling off his chin and jawline. His eyes darken as he widely gawks at Nickolai. “You made it!” He sighs happily, smiling brightly before clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry, Please. Come in. I’m Jake’s father – Desmond.”
CHAPTER 20
Everything is different – scents, sounds and sensations – so much change and it scares him. He doesn’t know how to respond to Desmond being Jake’s father, and it isn’t long before Desmond starts asking questions like they all did.
“I take it… Jake’s not with you?” He asks, with a low and gutted tone as he watches the startled elf scan the house.
Giving him space for a moment, he stays close and waits for everything to sink in. He has an idea of how this might be for him.
This is a home. With a welcome mat, windows, and furniture. Carpet and curtains. A kitchen, separate rooms, and a front and backyard. His eyes dart around the place as he stands there with his hand still clenching his bow.
Nickolai doesn’t want to move; he’s frozen in place as he observes the peaceful scenery and setting. Unsure what to do or say, he remains completely quiet, choosing to hold back from Desmond’s earlier question. His chest aches, and he doesn’t even know how to compute such a thing to Desmond.
“I know this might be very unsettling and strange, but you’re safe. I promise,” Desmond carefully tells him, as he leans against the nearest wall leading into the family room.
Nickolai’s ears flicked softly as Desmond speaks again and slowly draws his eyes to meet with Desmond’s; they were almost identical to Jake’s.
“I have a room for you,” he starts with a chirp, letting a stale breath leave his lips before he claps his hands delicately and gestures for Nickolai to follow.
A room? Nickolai is uncertain on what exactly this means. He is to stay there and do as he’s told again? He can feel his body tense up and stomach roll. Was he in the same position only a new setting? feeling the fear rush over him, increasing the flow of his breathing.
Even with Desmond’s words flooding his mind that he’s safe – he can’t fight the negativity and fear of falling back into hell. He’s nervous and has no trust in anyone, even if he stated and claimed to be Jake’s father. Nickolai is constantly on guard and distrusting.
Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Desmond reaches up and pulls on a chord that slowly releases a set of stairs leading up to the attic. Desmond then proceeds up the stairs. “It’s huge up here. You’ll have plenty of room, and you’ll be out of sight if that makes you more comfortable,” Desmond starts with a very gleeful tone, proud of his improvisation and craftsmanship. Giving Nickolai the tour of his home, he hopes he’ll accept it as his own.
“You can leave the door open if you wish,” he shouts over his shoulder as he disappears from Nickolai’s sight. “You’re welcome to come and go as you please.” He peers from the gaping hole, and watches the stunned elf stand there still holding his bow.
“I have a queen size bed, drawers, desk, computer and television up here for you – since you are a teenager.” Desmond attempts to chuckle at his own little joke, but he only manages to sigh deeply and drop his shoulders. He waits for Nickolai to step out of his bubble just a little bit.
Stepping away from the hole, he gives Nickolai his space and takes a seat on the chair before the desk with the computer and waits. He doesn’t care how long it takes for him to come down; he told Jake he’d be there for him and he is going to do everything he can.
He could run, turn on his heels, and dart out o
f that front door and leave, run and become lost once again. He’s at war with himself, as hesitation drowns him. Scared of accepting so much kindness, he knows he doesn’t deserve this – and he can’t shake the black pit in his stomach – he doesn’t understand why this is happening or even how. If he can trust this man, is he really who he said he was? He can’t fight the thousands of questions running and flooding his mind, even if he wanted to.
Nickolai never trusts easy, and this isn’t when he is going to start, what stopped Desmond from finding Jake? Desmond is a stranger with a name connected to someone he loves. Someone he cares about. Until he knows who he really is and what his motives are, maybe then he’ll let the world see inside the monster they created.
Slowly, Nickolai stomps up the stairs, raising his shoulders as he peaks up over the hole to see inside the attic. His ears slightly twitch at the enormous space and neat set up. His eyes are wide before he sees Desmond smiling down at him from the desk, sitting before a large window with a beautiful view.
“Welcome to your room, Nickolai,” he finally announces. Even though he’s not completely inside, it’s a start. It’s something he can work with.
“I’ll leave you to it. Come down when you’re hungry; I’m cooking up a storm!” Desmond nods to Nickolai with delight in his tone, followed by a swing of his arm he attempts to pat him on the shoulder – but swiftly decides against it – balling his hand into a fist.
Desmond smacks himself in the face mentally, before making his way downstairs, leaving Nickolai to enter the room completely and alone to his sinking thoughts.
His eyes wide and stomach rumbling loudly…
Food?
Hours pass by and eventually, after changing his clothes, Nicolai contemplates everything that’s happened. He takes a seat on his new bed, so soft and comfortable. New sheets and the size is insane to his old single bed. In this room, he could do his martial arts and meditation up here with ease. What he notices quickly is the small mantle above his bed – to place his bow – how did Desmond know of his resting place for his bow?