The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  “So, what if they do?” asked Notch from behind.

  “The Snoflians get whoever did it,” she responded softly, glancing at Grell.

  “And...?”

  “They disappear.”

  “Harsh,” said Notch, looking at Sandy, avoiding Grell’s eyes. “Did your grandfather say what the circles mean?”

  “He said they represent the planets the Snoflians have wormholes to.”

  More planets? More wormholes? “Which one are we on now?” asked Notch.

  “The big one in the middle, Snoflia,” replied Sandy. “The smaller one behind it, up to the left, is Origilia. It’s where the Snoflians came from, their former home.”

  “That must be the one Snowy told us about,” said Notch.

  “Grandpa said the Snoflians polluted its atmosphere, ruined its ecosystem, raised its temperature and killed off lots of species. Everything was dying, including the Snoflians. There was war everywhere, for food and water.”

  “Like Snowy described,” said Notch.

  “Some of the Snoflians escaped into the Origilian mountains,” said Sandy, “and hid in a huge cave, where they found a wormhole. Some went through it...to here. They went back and brought others. They vowed never to let what happened on Origilia happen here.”

  A lesson for us earthlings. “So the other planets partially overlap this one,” said Notch. “Which one is ours?”

  “Gaia, the medium one, on the upper right.”

  “They call it Gaia...like we do?”

  “Grandpa says they call it what we call it.”

  How did they know what we call it? “So, we’re in their symbol and they watch us,” Notch said. “Why? To see what we’re doing with our planet? To keep us from coming here? What?” He became aware of Grell behind him. To take over ours? “So, what’s the smaller one on the lower left?”

  “Foligia. It has huge vegetation and animals, a lot bigger than here. Makes the Snoflian trees look like grass and its animals like ants. The small planet there on the right, below our Gaia, is Frozilia. Totally covered with ice and snow. Seems it’s inhabited by subnivean species.”

  “Subnivean?” asked Sparky.

  “Live under ice and snow,” responded Notch.

  “Snoflians have wormholes to all four,” said Sandy. “Grezz told Grandpa that they’ve just found a wormhole to another planet. Sizzilia, a really hot place. But, they haven’t explored there, yet. If Sizzilia is worth it, they’ll add it to the symbol.”

  “Fascinating,” mused Notch.

  “Do all of the planets have life?” asked Neff.

  “Grezz says they do,” said Sandy, “but he’s only seen ours.”

  I bet he’s seen more of ours than we know. Notch scratched his forehead in thought.

  “It would be wonderful to learn what lives in those worlds,” said Neff.

  “One way to find out,” said Notch. “Go there.”

  “Maybe,” murmured Neff. Or dream about it.

  “In shed,” said Grell, edging past them. She unlocked the door and ushered them in. She showed them where to hang the plummetin gear, made sure it was hung correctly, shooed them out and locked up. She herded them through the sentinel rocks, had Sparky help her replace the wedge-shaped stone and said, “Follow.”

  “A woman with a purpose,” whispered Neff, setting off behind Sandy.

  “Kinda like my grandmother,” said Sandy. She thought about her grandmother, then about her mom and dad and finally about her grandfather, Sam, healing, waiting, lonely, on the far side of the mountains. What if I never see him again?

  CHAPTER 52

  The Trading Point

  THEY SNAKED through the ancient boulder pile to a wide, pink sandy beach, with a narrow path next to it, weaving through the wavy dune grass. The ground was covered with three-toed footprints.

  “Scavenids,” said Grell.

  “Going to the point?” asked Notch.

  Grell nodded.

  Sparky studied the waves. “Could we check out the water?”

  “Do fast. Leave packs here.” Grell sat on a mound in the dune grass. The others dropped their backpacks, took off their boots and ran barefoot onto the sand.

  “Smells so good,” said Neff, breathing in the salty air. She rolled up her pant legs and waded into gently lapping waves. “Feels so good.”

  Notch scooped a handful of water to his mouth. “Briny,” he said, tasting it, “like ours.”

  Sparky scanned the waves. Something beyond the breakers caught his eye. “Fins?”

  “Looks like,” said Sandy. “Big ones. They’re....”

  “...Coming this way,” said Sparky, pedaling backwards.

  “Shraxx,” screamed Grell from the dunes. “Come,” she shouted, “Now.”

  Sandy heard Grell over the wind and waves. She shouted to Neff and Notch nearby, then to Pizeela, Tyfoona and Trrad, who were further away, “Everyone back.” Sandy sprinted from the water, Notch ahead of her, Sparky behind her.

  He glanced back for Pizeela, Tyfoona and Trrad. They hadn’t heard Grell or Sandy. But Tyfoona saw the humans, running, then looked at the incoming surf. Two powerful tail fins were churning towards her.

  “Shraxx,” she screamed, grabbing Pizeela and running, Trrad beside her.

  The six-legged, flipper-footed shraxx burst through the shallows, their momentum carrying them onto the sand. Pizeela fell. Her hand slipped from Tyfoona’s. Trrad kept running. Tyfoona turned back for Pizeela. Sparky ran past her and grabbed Pizeella’s hand. One of the shraxx nipped at Pizeela’s heel. Sparky yanked the small Lowconz girl sideways and jumped between her and the shraxx. Tyfoona grabbed her arm and headed for the dune grass.

  Diverted, the two shraxx lost momentum. They cranked their long heads and shark-like mouths toward Sparky, and wriggled toward him, hissing and spitting, their six clumsy appendages slipping in the soft sand.

  “Fishbreaths,” choked Sparky, backing up. He grabbed two handfuls of sand and threw it in their faces.

  The shraxx blinked, snorted and spit sand. Sparky picked up more sand. But the shraxx turned away and wobbled back into the surf.

  “Should have a ‘no swimming’ sign here,” puffed Sparky, coming up the beach, brushing his hands together.

  “Shraxx you said?” asked Notch.

  “Shraxx,” nodded Grell.

  Tyfoona and Pizeela kissed Sparky’s hands in gratitude.

  Trrad kicked sand.

  “He’s at it again,” whispered Notch.

  “He doesn’t get it,” murmured Neff. “He hasn’t been enculturated.”

  “Enculturated?” asked Notch.

  “You know, acting according to cultural mores....”

  “I know what it means. Just...weird to hear you say it.”

  “Anyway,” said Neff, “Trrad’s Trappid culture must be awful to live in. It’s going to be hard for him to adjust to Snofliana. Really hard.” She looked at Tyfoona. “For her too. But I think she knows it.”

  “Make sure you wipe off all the sand,” said Sandy.

  They did. Then set off again.

  Notch studied the stones along the path. Red, black, tan, purple, green, yellow, gray…a treasure trove. He looked ahead. The path curved. Onto the peninsula.

  Grell led them through a little forest of short, twisted trees, then across a field of wavy grass, where another path came from the right, and merged with theirs. It had lots of footprints, none with shoes.

  “Tradeeng pont,” said Grell over her shoulder. “Safe now.”

  Notch turned to Neff, “Not safe for Trrad, and maybe not for Tyfoona and Pizeela.”

  Neff glanced back. The two Lowconz girls were looking anxious. Neff understood. If there are Lowconz here, who knows which side they’ll be on? Trrad seemed downright scared. He knew Trappids woul
d be there, a lot of them, maybe even his father.

  Grell paused on the crest of a small hill.

  Notch came up next to her. The trading point was below. Moored to a long dock at the end of the point, sat a magnificent, white, three-hulled ship. It rose and fell with the ocean swells. The three rakish masts soared high above the water, dwarfing the round pod huts nested nearby. In the sea beyond, stood a semicircle of jagged rock spires. Protective reef. Scattered down each side of the point, sat rows of palm-roofed huts and bright colored tents. Guest rooms. In the center was a large, open space with booths and displays on its periphery. Bazaar. In the water along each side of the point, bobbed boats tethered to docks, which in turn heaved against pilings. Guest parking.

  Sparky’s eyes were drawn to the trimaran. “I bet that’s our ride.”

  “A megamaran,” said Notch.

  “That must be the Snoflian pod compound next to it,” said Sandy. “It’s like the one we were in.”

  “I wonder if Snowy’s there,” said Neff.

  “Or if the Trappids have him,” said Notch. “They could be trying to sell him back. Where are the Trappids, anyway?”

  “Grandpa said the huts and docks on the right are for the Trappids. So it must be those, down there,” said Sandy, pointing. “The ones along the left are for Scavenids, for traders from the islands called Seanids, and for Lowconz, if any show up.”

  “Will the Trappids who caught us be down there?” asked Neff.

  “If they are, they’re not allowed to touch you. Not here,” said Sandy. “But, Grandpa said they’re free to say anything they want.”

  “I assume that goes both ways,” said Notch, remembering how the Trappids had treated him.

  Neff glanced at Trrad. He was chewing on his cheek, staring at the Trappid side. “This is going to be tough on him!”

  “Probably,” said Sandy. “Grell told him to go straight to the Snoflian compound and stay there, until he gets on the ship. That was quite okay with him.”

  She looked at the Lowconz girls. “Zeekeng told Tyfoona and Pizeela not to talk with any Lowconz here, if there are any, until they find out which side they’re on.”

  Grell placed Neff behind Sandy.

  “She’s lining us up,” said Notch, “for the gauntlet.”

  Grell put Pizeela behind Neff, then Tyfoona, Trrad, Notch and Sparky.

  “There’s a logic to her line-up,” said Notch. “This will be interesting.”

  As the seven youths, led by Grell, filed down the path to the point, hoots began to grow from the Trappids on the right. Scavenids and a few Seanids wandered out on the left side to watch in silence.

  As the seven entered the trading area, the hoots swelled to screams and shouts.

  “Word travels fast,” said Notch.

  A stick hit Trrad. “So do sticks,” said Sparky. Another stick. He ducked. He turned his head away and protected it with his arm. The girls stared firmly ahead. Sparky picked up two of the sticks, stepped beside Trrad and scowled at the Trappids. Notch picked up another stick. Sparky threatened to throw one. A rock whizzed past his head. The heckling came to a crescendo.

  Then it abruptly died.

  Six Snoflian sea warriors, in two lines, led by one officer, jogged in unison from the Snoflian pod compound into the trading area. They were dressed in dark blue and green camo outfits and helmets. Their faces were light blue, except for the officer’s. His was red to let everyone know he was the boss. He led his warriors straight toward Grell and the youths. All of the warriors, except the officer, carried tubes in their hands. Half the tubes were green, half black. All the tubes were leveled at the Trappids.

  The officer stopped in front of Grell. Her face slowly transformed from tan to light blue. The two spoke briefly. Then she beckoned to her seven charges. They set off single file toward the Snoflian compound, six guards on each side, eyeing the bystanders gathered in mumbling, gossipy groups.

  “I always did like the Marines,” said Notch. He tried to stay in step with the sea warriors, but his legs were too short. Now that he had protection, he waved at the Trappids. “Hey, guys. So nice to see you again.” He smiled.

  They sneered.

  “I hate them,” said Neff, feeling the fear she had had when the Trappids captured her.

  “They are scary,” said Sandy. Not as scary as Lowconz.

  Sparky, behind Sandy, asked, “Why are some of the tube weapons green?”

  “Grandpa told me the green ones are slumbersprays.”

  “Slumbersprays?”

  “One squirt puts you to sleep, for a whole day. Your friends have to take care of you—if you have any friends left, that is, because you, well, pee and poop yourself as you doze. When you wake up, you smell really bad. Must be embarrassing. You also vomit a lot and have an awful headache. Headache hangs on for another day. Just for fun.”

  “I could use one of those sprays on a few jerks I know,” said Neff.

  “So the black tubes are more serious?” asked Sparky, recalling the dead Lowconz in the mountains and the black tubes Sorzz and Snezz carried.

  “They wound or kill,” said Sandy. She became silent. She had witnessed it.

  The youths entered the compound. A Snoflian seakeeper guided them to the rescue pod.

  Same set-up as in the mountains. Neff went through the brief health check, then waited with her friends in the eating pod. Grell was there.

  “Have you seen Snowy, I mean Smylzz?” she asked.

  “Not here,” responded Grell, sadly.

  “Oh,” said Neff. “Thanks.” Neff touched her backpack.

  Mollie stuck her nose out.

  Neff gave her some fruit and vegetables and water from her cup.

  Notch leaned toward Neff and whispered, “She’s always in your backpack. Doesn’t she ever go to the bathroom?”

  “She goes when I go,” replied Neff, curtly.

  While they ate, a young Snoflian sea officer came in.

  Grell translated.

  “You will board at sundown. You will each be assigned a personal pod, where you can bathe and sleep. You will be given fresh, seafaring clothes. Your personal clothes will be washed. And, of course, you will eat. If you choose to go into the trading area before then, Snoflian guards will accompany you. As guests, you will each be given a small number of coins. You are free to trade those coins for anything you wish, as long as it isn’t alive.”

  Sandy and Neff decided to go into the trading area. Sandy put her backpack in the storage pod, along with the others. Neff decided to wear hers, Mollie inside.

  CHAPTER 53

  Haggling

  “WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO SHOPPING?” Neff asked, with Grell’s help.

  Tyfoona and Pizeela, promptly accepted. Grell gave each girl a small stack of trading coins and arranged for four Snoflian sea warriors to accompany them.

  “Can Sparky and me tag along?” Notch asked.

  “Sure,” said Neff.

  Grell handed them coins and, happily, sent the six on their way.

  “I think Grell needs a break from us,” whispered Neff.

  “And we from her,” said Notch.

  The six strode into the trading area and turned toward the Scavenid side. Neff, Sandy, Tyfoona and Pizeela walked together. Sparky and Notch ambled behind, the four guards following—two with green tubes, two with black.

  As the group approached the Scavenid booths, two Lowconz women came running toward them. The guards leveled their slumbersprays. But Tyfoona and Pizeela squealed with delight, ran ahead, and hugged the two women. The guards relaxed.

  The women, loyal to Zeekeng, had escaped by sea, weeks before. They and their mates were seeking asylum too. They were overjoyed to hear the good news about Zeekeng and his family. They were elated to learn about Sam, which is when Tyfoona introduced Sandy.
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  The only words Sandy understood were “Sam” and “Sandy”. But that was enough. The two Lowconz women smiled warmly and kissed Sandy’s hands. Sandy, taken aback, hastily introduced her friends. The Lowconz women had no idea what Sandy was saying, and vice versa, but they were happy to be with like-minded others.

  After introductions, Tyfoona and Pizeela, accompanied by two Snoflian guards, went with their two friends to visit the other Lowconz.

  Neff and Sandy began to peruse the Scavenid offerings. Strange, stringed instruments played exotic music in the background. High-pitched chatter drifted between the huts and tents. Smoke and the smell of roasting beast wafted through the air.

  “Makes me hungry,” said Notch, looking for the source of the scent and spotting a large, six-legged bug revolving on a spit. “Almost.”

  Sandy and Neff inspected baskets woven from long thin bones, bowls molded with dried leather, hats made of blabbit fur and necklaces of unduleel teeth.

  “Whoah!” said Sparky, picking up the huge, dried-up face of a dead fangvaulter and holding in front of his own. He growled.

  A Scavenid snatched it back.

  “Typical guy,” murmured Neff, moving on, her eyes drawn to a display of round multi-colored rocks. In the shadow behind the display stood a stuffed mulgny on hind legs, claws outstretched. Mollie sniffed and began to whimper. “I’m out of here,” spat Neff, turning away...then blurting, “Our boots!”

  There, in the next booth, on a woven table, stood the three pair of ski boots.

  “I had them delivered,” quipped Notch, as he, Neff and Sparky headed for the boots.

  “Where did you guys leave them?” asked Sandy.

  “Back in the jungle,” said Neff.

  Sparky picked up one of his. Two scraggly Scavenids scurried out of the shadows, one tall, the other short, both skinny. The tall one picked up Sparky’s second boot and put it behind his back. Then he grabbed the toe of the boot Sparky was holding and smiled unctuously. He didn’t pull. He simply held on.

  “‘Beanpole’ wants to deal,” said Notch.