The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  “Yeah,” he sits up too, resting his head against the wooden slats and staring at the ceiling. “I guess he did. It didn’t work straight away. I remember resisting him far longer than I think he expected, but eventually his power won out and he demanded that I lead the invasion instead of Amarox. He’s ruthless like that,” he adds, tilting his face to meet my eyes.

  “He’s here on Earth, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you could resist him again?”

  “I don’t know... maybe. It’s not just you anymore.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not just me?”

  “I care about them too – the others. Jason and Darren, Kate. Even that distrustful, annoying mother-daughter duo. They hate me, by the way,” he adds casually. “Hell, I care about people I haven’t even met yet. I don’t want to see any more people getting hurt. Look at this couple,” he explains, “they’ve taken us in, fed us, clothed us. They’ve treated me with more kindness in one night than I’ve ever seen on Venon. And it’s completely sincere – I sensed it. You were right, humanity is worth saving. And I promise you I will do everything in my power to save Earth...” He gets no further as I press my lips to his, cutting him off and proving just how much I love him.

  At the first sign of dawn I reluctantly ease myself out of bed. Dex’s smug, satisfied smile is the best wake-up call I have ever had but we have to get back on the road. In the cold light of day all my fears come rushing back. Amarox is hunting us. Dex’s father is here on earth, dead set on destroying us all. My friends are in danger.

  I search through the small pile of clothing that Martha handed me last night and settle for the most practical – a pale lemon-colored blouse and a pair of jeans that fit surprisingly well. They are too long and I have to roll them up a few times and the waist-band is higher than I am used to, but other than that they are quite comfortable. Dex is wearing the same clothes as yesterday – the jade green shirt and Byron’s jeans, which are perfectly dry, just as Martha promised.

  I make my way to the kitchen first leaving Dex to tidy the rumpled sheets. I offered to do it but he ushered me out. I know he still doesn’t feel entirely comfortable being alone with the elderly couple. As I enter the quaint room the first thing I notice is a young boy, about five years old, sitting at the table. As he turns to face me I recognize the urchin from last night. His hair is so dark it’s almost black and his eyes are a warm chocolate brown. He’s wearing a pair of Spiderman pajamas and eating a bowl of dry Apple Jacks.

  “Good morning,” I smile, taking a seat opposite him, “you must be Noah. I’m Rachel,” I frown quizzically at his bowl. “You know I usually have those with milk.”

  “There’s no milk,” he replies, spitting out a few bits of orange in the process.

  “Noah! Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nicholas chides as he enters the room. “Good morning Rachel,” he adds cheerily as he takes a seat next to the boy.

  “Sorry Grandpa.” More bits of orange land on the table and I giggle. Noah swallows what’s left in his mouth and beams at me. “I’ve got a wobbly tooth,” he announces proudly.

  “Oh wow, look at you! I bet the tooth fairy will bring you a little something special for that.”

  “Nah,” he shakes his head disconsolately, “she won’t be able to go out because of the bad men. They’re the reason Grandma can’t go and get any milk.” I feel an inexplicable urge to cry. This poor boy has been through so much already and in all likelihood he’ll be dead before the week is out. Noticing Nicholas’s anxious gaze, I take a deep breath and force a smile.

  “Well, you might be surprised. The tooth fairy is very small and very stealthy. She’ll find a way to get to you. She wouldn’t let anything stop her.”

  “Not even the bad men?” he brightens.

  “Not even the bad men,” I attest.

  “That’s enough,” Nicholas interrupts, “Noah, you need to go upstairs and get dressed. Grandma will help you.” Noah pushes aside his empty bowl and shoves his chair back with a hair-raising screech. Grinning mischievously at me as his grandfather rolls his eyes he races toward the stairs. “Thank you,” Nicholas murmurs as I watch the child’s progress. I notice Dex standing in the doorway and I smile at him wondering how much he has overheard, when Noah skids to a halt beside him.

  I watch, mystified, as he stares up at Dex his brown eyes widening in shock. Dex looks down at him, his smile fading as the boy starts to tremble. Nicholas has his back to them, pouring himself a bowl of dry Apple Crunch and I stare, aghast, at Noah’s obvious fear. Dex looks almost pained as he slowly bends his knees, crouching on his haunches and placing his hand on Noah’s shoulder.

  Whatever Noah is thinking, it is hurting Dex. I can barely make out the whispered words, but I watch Dex’s lips moving and my jaw drops open as I lip read what he is saying, “It’s okay Noah. Yes, I’m like them, but I’m the good guy. I’m like him,” he gestures at the image of Spiderman on the front of Noah’s pajamas. “I promise I won’t hurt you or your grandparents.” I miss what Noah says next, but Dex’s reply is an affirmative yes. Noah asks another question and Dex cocks his head curiously to the side.

  “Who?”

  “The tooth fairy,” Noah’s raised voice reaches both my and Nicholas’s ears and the old man turns around in his seat.

  “Yes, I’ll make sure she gets here,” Dex smiles, although I can see he has no idea who or what the tooth fairy is. Noah gives him a blazing smile and then, before his grandfather has the chance to reprimand him, he shoots past Dex and races up the stairs.

  Dex clears his throat and greets Nicholas cheerily. I raise my eyebrows at him over Nicholas’s shoulder, still concerned about what just happened, but he nods his head reassuringly as Nicholas turns back around to face me.

  “He’s gorgeous,” I make small talk while he places a bowl in front of me and hands me the cereal box.

  “He looks just like his mother – she was a very beautiful woman, but he has his father's eyes,” he adds fondly.

  I eat a small helping of cereal, my heart in my throat as we wait, but when Martha comes down a few minutes later she looks quite calm, with Noah trailing in her wake. He gives Dex another dazzling grin and takes a seat right beside him.

  “Look,” he places two action figures on the table – Spiderman and the Green Goblin. I press my lips together, the emotion overwhelming me again.

  “Please excuse me,” I apologize, my voice breaking, as I rush from the kitchen. I close myself in the room Dex and I shared last night, my breathing ragged.

  “Rachel?” Dex pushes open the door, his eyes narrowed with concern. I blink back the tears, shaking my head and I begin pacing between the window and the bathroom.

  “They’re going to kill him, aren’t they? They’re going to kill all three of them.”

  “Yes,” he sighs, realizing what this is all about and leaning back against the door.

  “We have to help them,” I plead. “We have to take them with us.”

  “Okay.” His answer is so unexpected that it takes me a few seconds to grasp that he agrees with me.

  “What?”

  “I said okay,” he smiles, coming over and putting his arms around me. I lean into him, feeling the heat radiating from his body and I feel safer immediately, protected.

  “He knows,” I murmur against his T-shirt and I hear the chuckle emanate from his chest.

  “Yeah, he does. Unbelievable – the kid’s perceptive.”

  “You didn’t deny it,” I chide.

  “I couldn’t – he knew. Quintessence, remember?” I lean back to look into his eyes.

  “I love you,” I say simply and he kisses my nose.

  “I love you too, Rachel.”

  Chapter 27

  When we return to the kitchen the atmosphere has changed. The lightness has vanished and I can sense that Nicholas and Martha feel uncomfortable, although Noah is completely unaffected by my dramatic exit.

  “I’m
sorry,” I apologize as I sit back down. “It’s just hard... everything that’s going on...” I trail off, feeling embarrassed.

  “Do you have any children of your own, Rachel?” Martha asks kindly.

  “No.”

  “Ah... well, maybe that’s best,” she replies. “They bring out the best and the worst in us. In situations like this – it’s what makes us stronger, makes us fight. But in this case,” her voice breaks and she places a hand to her mouth, watching Noah with eyes that are brimming with tears.

  “Noah, son, please go upstairs and tidy your room. And don’t forget to make your bed,” Nicholas quickly ushers the boy out. Martha takes a steadying breath, making sure the reluctant child is out of earshot before continuing.

  “I’m sorry,” she echoes my earlier words, flapping her hand in front of her face. “It’s just the thought of anything happening to him...”

  “Come with us!” I blurt out. “Please, Martha – for Noah. Come with us to the mountains.”

  “What good would it do?” She shakes her head sadly, “What difference would it make? They’re going to find us all, in good time. I’d rather Noah spends his last days at home, happy and feeling safe.” Nicholas crosses the room to place a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  “But we have a chance,” I insist desperately, “we can make it out of this!”

  “How can you possibly believe that?”

  “Because... because...” I cast around desperately for a way to convince her without betraying Dex’s secret.

  “Because of me,” Dex interrupts firmly, stepping forward and facing them both. I can only just make out his profile but, before I can intervene, his eyes glow vividly, the emerald green impossible to miss. The couple’s reaction is exactly what I would expect. Martha gives a shriek of fright and Nicholas steps in front of her, his face a mask of shock and horror.

  “You!” he roars, as Dex’s eyes fade back to normal. “You’re one of them, you son-of-a-bitch!” He takes a step forward his anger getting the better of him. Martha’s terrified gaze sweeps the stairs and I can imagine what she is thinking.

  “He won’t hurt you,” I move between the two men, my hands up in front of me. Please, let them believe me. “Yes, Dex is one of them. But he’s not like the others. He’s protecting me, protecting other humans just like us. He’s here to help you. Please,” I implore desperately, “please come with us. It’s your only hope. It’s Noah’s only hope.”

  My words are followed by a deafening silence so absolute that you could hear a pin drop. I hold my breath praying fervently that they listen. We can’t make any promises, but at least if they come with us they have a chance, which is a whole lot better than staying here awaiting their slaughter. They exchange glances and I feel hope blossoming in my chest. Nicholas turns to speak to me, studiously ignoring Dex.

  “Get out of my house,” he orders, his voice harsh and cold.

  “But...”

  “I said, get-out-of-my-house!” he roars, and I shut my eyes. It’s over. There is no room for argument – they have made up their minds.

  “Let’s go,” I tug Dex’s arm. He doesn’t move. “Dex,” I repeat, “let’s go.”

  “We’re taking the boy,” he says calmly. I can barely believe what I’m hearing.

  “You’re not taking him anywhere,” Nicholas hisses. Martha starts weeping, her stern face crumpling, her hand flying to her mouth.

  “Dex,” I gasp, shaking my head at him before reassuring them. “No, of course we’re not. We would never do that.”

  “He will die, Rachel!” Dex thunders behind me. “They are coming and they will kill him!”

  “Yes, I know.” My heart is heavy in my chest and a part of me wants to grab Noah and run too, but this is what sets us apart from the Venites – our compassion, our ability to choose. Free will. “Noah stays here, it’s where he belongs.”

  “You have five seconds to get out,” Nicholas reminds us and I don’t hesitate. I take Dex’s hand and lead him to the door, snatching up our satchels and my jacket from the hallway as we go. I open the door and push Dex out first before I close the door firmly behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing back the tears that are threatening to spill out of them. I take only a moment to compose myself and then we head out into the woods, walking dejectedly down the driveway.

  “We shouldn’t have left him,” Dex eventually utters. I glance back at the house. I can just make out Martha’s face at the window, witnessing our departure.

  “It’s not our decision to make...” My words die on my lips as a hissing sound roars behind us. I know that sound only too well. Dropping the backpacks and my jacket I swivel on the spot screaming a warning, but it’s too late. The fireball hits the house, obliterating the front door and a quarter of the lower floor. The window where Martha stood only a moment before is gone, burnt beyond recognition.

  “Nooooooooo!” I scream on and on, clutching my head in my hands and pulling at my hair. Dex is already moving, sprinting back toward the house. The first floor is still standing, I realize, racing after him and praying that Noah hadn’t finished making his bed.

  We reach the house at the same time and I gape at the carnage. The lower storey is chaos – furniture and fittings have been flung around with the force of the blast and the smell of burning wood and metal assails my senses.

  “Nicholas! Martha!” I yell, coughing as the smoke fills my lungs and stings my eyes. I hear a groan to my left at the same moment that a peal of laughter rings out from somewhere outside. The fire-user is out there, watching. I turn to Dex, “Go! I’ll find them – you need to stop whoever it is before they bring the whole house down on our heads!” I push him toward the monstrous hole in the wall. He squeezes my hand, murmuring ‘be careful’ and then he is gone.

  A low groan emanates from somewhere nearby and I swing around forcing myself to focus. There is nothing I can do to help Dex, I need to help the Mills family.

  “Nicholas?” I call and I am rewarded with another moan of pain. I clamber over a pile of wood and stop when I reach a large cabinet. “Oh my God,” I dart forward and sink to my knees beside the old man. Taking his hand I crouch low so that he can see me. Blood is dripping from his head onto the floor and the solid wooden cabinet has completely crushed his legs. I choke back a sob and force a smile.

  “Martha?” he asks and I shake my head gently. There is no point even looking for Martha. She was standing at the window – there will be nothing left of her. His kind face crumples and then a fit of violent coughing wracks his body. “Noah?” he pleads and I squeeze his hand again.

  “Where was he, Nicholas?”

  “Upstairs. He...” I don’t wait for him to finish.

  “I’ll find him. I promise you,” I squeeze his hand one last time and then I clamber back toward the stairs.

  A huge chunk of wood is missing beneath the staircase and I hesitantly place one foot on the first step. I keep climbing, one step at a time. I am about halfway up when the stairs start creaking ominously. A few steps short of the landing the entire staircase lurches beneath my feet with instability, and I launch myself up the remaining few steps. With an enormous groan, the entire stairway cleaves away beneath me, taking half the landing with it. The thunderous noise reverberates in my ears as I scrabble forward on my stomach, my legs dangling over the empty space. Gasping, I pull myself up and cling, terrified, to the door frame. I rest my head against it for a minute, trying to catch my breath and calm my nerves. Move, Rachel, I tell myself. I have no idea what is going on outside and the whole house could come down around my head any second or explode in a ball of flames.

  The first door on my left is a bathroom, the second an empty bedroom with a vase of wilted flowers on the dresser. As I glance into the first room on the right I spot blue curtains and a bright, crudely made bed with a Spiderman cover.

  “Noah,” I call, entering the room. A quick scan reveals nothing. “Noah!” I yell louder, my heart thumping in my chest. I
notice a slight movement and my eyes are drawn to a blue blanket hanging off the edge of the bed. Getting down onto my knees I put my head to the floor and look under the bed. Noah’s big brown eyes stare back at me. He is curled into a ball and is shaking like a whippet. “Noah,” I croak, relief coursing through me. I stretch out my hand and he takes it, letting me pull him out from under the bed. He is wearing a pair of dark blue tracksuit pants and the inevitable Spiderman T-shirt. His almost black hair is tousled and his eyes are brimming with tears.

  “Where are your shoes, Noah?” I ask and he points to the closet. Stepping over to it I grab a pair of sneakers, helping him put them on and quickly lacing them up. “You’re going to come with me,” I smile up at him, feigning a calm I don’t feel. I rub his arms and grab a jersey from the closet, slipping it over his head. He glances down dejectedly now that Spiderman has been covered up. Instead, the words “Trouble” are emblazoned across his chest. “I like it,” I say, “It suits you. Now, let’s get out of here okay?” He nods, and then quickly runs across to his dresser. He grabs a small Disney ‘Cars’ backpack and I watch in confusion as he fills it with a small toy digger, a pen and small spiral notebook, a folded piece of paper, his Spiderman and Green Goblin action figures and a framed photograph that he takes from his bedside table. He hitches the backpack over his shoulders and nods at me, ready to go.

  We make our way back to the landing and I peer over the edge, instant vertigo making my head spin. It’s not that high, but it’s far too high to jump to safety, and the debris littering the floor below us is made up of broken, splintered wood. I race back to Noah’s room and, shoving off his bedspread, I pull out his sheet.

  “You know how to climb?” I ask, as I crouch beside him a minute later. He nods. “Okay Noah, this is going to be a little scary, but I need to lower you down there, okay? You need to hold this very, very tight. Can you do that for me?” His eyes full with tears again and I squeeze his hand. “You have to be brave, like Spidey, Noah. Think of this,” I hold up the edge of the sheet, “as your web. You won’t fall.” I don’t know which one of us I am really trying to convince but wordlessly he takes the proffered corner and grabs hold of it with both hands. “Okay, now I’m going to lower you down. Stick your legs over the edge for me.” We guide his legs over the jagged edge of what remains of the landing and I try not to let his terror-stricken face affect me. As his legs go over and he starts to slip, I smile encouragingly. “You’re going to drop over now, Noah. You have to hold tight, okay. You have to hold onto the sheet until I get you a bit lower down.” He gives a yelp of fright as his torso slides over the edge and I grip the sheet tightly in my own hands as it pulls taut. His weight is easy enough to hold and I quickly let out the material, lowering him toward the ground floor below.