Portal Jumpers

by Chloe Garner

  He was bipedal with black skin that, as he got close, Cassie could see the depth of the texture of it. Rocky skin, like lizard scales crossed with a burn victim’s blisters. He made noises at them and she took a step back, looking at Jesse. Jesse squinted, then dropped his head and made noises back. Cassie’s implant didn’t catch any words at all, but from the creature’s expression, neither did he. He dropped his head low and to the side, trying to get a glimpse of Jesse’s face, and Cassie stood still. The creature had a great tail, as thick as his torso, that dropped to a point just before it would have touched the ground, and somewhere between eight and twelve toes on the end of each leg that were spaced radially, like fingers. The ones facing forward and backward were longer than the side ones, and they held what would have been the soles of his feet off of the ground, if his legs had actually ended in feet. She was mesmerized with the combination of shuffling and walking he used to move.

  He made more noises and Jesse answered them.

  “What did he say?” Cassie asked.

  “Not a clue,” Jesse said. “I recognize the syntax well enough, and I’m trying things.”

  “You’re trying things? Without knowing any of the words?”

  “Language isn’t as hard as you people make it out to be,” Jesse said. The creature swiped at him, pulling him away from Cassie. She moved to follow, and he pushed her away, three wide, flat fingers scraping across her arm with enough bristle to them to draw blood. Jesse launched more words as Cassie growled and moved out of range. The creature had her out-weighed by maybe a hundred pounds, and it looked like it worked for a living, but she wasn’t going to let it push her around like that.

  More of them came pouring out of doors, broad-shouldered creatures with great arms that reached most of the way to the ground and the strange, shuffling feet. They spoke, but Cassie hadn’t seen teeth yet. No one was actively threatening them, if the teeth thing was as universal as it felt.

  One of them grabbed at her and she tried to slip away, but the fingers were too rough. She felt her skin scrape away as the third finger closed around her arm and someone else grabbed her other arm.

  The profusion of language was making a difference, though.

  “Do you have the sickness?” the first one said again, emphatically.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jesse answered.

  “They’re sick, look at them,” someone called.

  “Their skin’s all come off,” said someone else.

  “I don’t think they ever had any.”

  “I won’t much longer, if you keep holding me like that,” Cassie said, glaring at the man who held her. He jerked away in surprise, letting her go. She put her hand over the raw wound, and the hand on her other arm tightened.

  “Fragile like dust. Stop fighting,” the owner of the arm said. She looked up at him, wishing she had had a primer on non-verbal communication, but chose to believe that was benign mistrust rather than malevolence there. She stood still, and the grip on her arm slacked.

  “What manner of creature are you?” the first one asked Jesse.

  “She’s human, I’m Palta,” Jesse answered. “Our bodies aren’t made for this world.”

  “How did you come to be here?”

  “We came to see,” Jesse said. “And what we’ve found are empty towns. Why is that?”

  “Are they gods?” someone whispered.

  “Here to punish us,” someone else said.

  “They brought the sickness with them,” came a third voice.

  “The sickness,” the first one said, still standing too tall and too close to Jesse. “It has devastated us. If you carry it, go in peace. Die somewhere else.”

  “We are healthy,” Jesse said. “What sickness is this?”

  “Send them away,” said the one who held Cassie.

  “Maybe I can help,” Jesse said.

  “What do you know about us?” the one who stood in front of Jesse asked. “Why could you help?”

  “Do you have…” Cassie found that the word was missing from her vocabulary. Improvise. “Do you have members of your tribe who bring health to sick people?”

  “Healers,” the one in front of Jesse said. “What kind of savages do you think we are?”

  “How do your healers learn?” Cassie asked. Jesse was watching her, amused.

  “From teachers,” the creature answered, speaking to her like a child. Slow and clearly-enunciated was also pretty universal.

  “Right. He is a great teacher.”

  “They think we’re stupid,” someone called. “Send them away or have them killed.”

  “Let me help you,” Jesse said. “We can’t make you sick and you can’t make us sick, and the worst that will happen is that you find us useless and send us away. Later.”

  Cassie’s stomach growled again, and the foreign terrestrials all turned to look at her.

  “Our biology makes that noise when we’re hungry,” Jesse said.

  “Don’t turn away the hungry in times of plenty,” someone murmured.

  “You call these times of plenty?” someone growled back.

  “For food, certainly,” another answered. “We won’t get through all of the food stores before they go bad.”

  “But who is going to help us collect more?”

  “Maybe he’s right.”

  The infighting turned local and relatively quiet as Jesse and the original creature stared each other down.

  “Your populations are diminishing,” Jesse said. “You have no ideas on how to fix it. It is unwise to turn away offers of help, even from strange sources such as myself.”

  “We don’t know you,” the creature answered.

  “Don’t turn away the hungry in times of plenty,” came the same voice again from behind Cassie. The foreign terrestrial speaking with Jesse looked up, then turned away.

  “Come with me.”

  All of the creatures above ground were male. It became readily apparent to Cassie as soon as she went below ground that the females were the domestic half of the arrangement. Their skin was smoother, ranging in hue from slate gray to jet black. The children were born with very smooth skin, rougher looking than human skin, and with patterned markings that either faded or scarred away as they got older, Cassie wasn’t sure. Females had a line of hair that went from between their eyes, over the tops of their heads, and out to the point of their tails. This streak of hair was apparently the center of fashion. She saw women with elaborate braids and spikes, and the coloration they bore was complex and vibrant enough that it had to be artificial. They all looked at Jesse and Cassie with mistrust, and somewhere far away, Cassie heard moaning.

  “Stay close,” Jesse said softly as they came into the front room.

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “I’m going to do my best to help them, but if I can’t, it might get ugly.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Cassie said. Jesse turned to look at her for a moment, then grinned and looked back at the lead foreign terrestrial who had brought them in. He put his hands out, cup-shaped palms up, and dropped his head in front of another individual whose eyes shifted slowly from the foreign terrestrial to Jesse and Cassie.

  “Word came in advance,” the older man said. “Those who can dig should go.”

  There was a general protest, torn between a protective instinct and curiosity, but the room cleared out after a minute. Women came and sat along the walls and on black glass furnishings, some of them holding children.

  “Our stories tell of strangers coming to us in our time of need, but you are not they, are you?”

  “Probably not,” Jesse said. “Though we are strangers and I do want to help.”

  “I am Aaron son of Thon,” the man said, motioning them to seats. Cassie’s implant translated near-enough sounding names that generally translated well back into the language she intended to speak. Generally. “What do you call yourselves?”

  “I am Jesse and this is Cassi
e,” Jesse said. Aaron folded his arms.

  “Why have you come?”

  “To see,” Jesse said. “We did not know what we would find.”

  “Then perhaps you are the strangers in our stories, after all.”

  “Finding a place in your history is nowhere near as important to me as ensuring that you have a future,” Jesse said. “Please. Tell me about your sickness.”

  The creature’s still face turned to Cassie, his skin almost crackling.

  “That would make you the hungry one.”

  She had to remember to keep her face still; that expressions would not help her.

  “I’m confused,” she said. He nodded, blinking fast.

  “They told me there was a learned one and a hungry one.”

  Jesse flashed her a look of amusement and she tried not to glare back.

  “I’m not in any danger,” Cassie said. “It’s just been two meals since I last ate. What you have to discuss is much more important.”

  “Then I will show you,” Aaron said, standing. “Follow me.”

  The women also stood and followed as they went down one corridor and then another, coming finally to a long hallway with green light spilling into it out of rooms on either side. Jesse looked into the first few, then chose another and went in. Cassie and Aaron followed; the women stayed outside.

  A child lay in the bed, tail curled up between its legs. He hugged the limb to his chest as he shuddered, eyes distant.

  “How does it start?” Jesse asked.

  “Pain in the fingers and toes,” Aaron said. “Then numbness and coldness and a general feeling of unwellness. After that,” he paused, kneeling next to the short bed of ashes. He put his hand on the boy’s face, skin scraping against skin like the sound of sandpaper. The boy’s eyes snapped into recognition for a moment and he whimpered, clutching his tail tighter, then curled around it and closed his eyes. Aaron stood. “After that, the rest of the body is taken in stages. We haven’t seen any strong patterns. Pain, immobility, fear. And then death.”

  “And you’ve never seen this before?” Jesse asked.

  “We have illnesses that come from bad water and bad sanitation or from injury or exposure. Some are fatal. We’ve never seen anything that…” Aaron looked back at the boy. “Anything that creeps like this.”

  Jesse turned to find a woman standing in the doorway, straight, eyes forward. He hesitated, watching her, then turned back to the boy. Cassie watched the woman for another moment, then knelt next to Jesse.

  “When did it start?” Jesse asked, taking the boy’s hand and spreading the three fingers, looking at the skin, feeling the bone and tissue underneath.

  “Sixteen days ago,” the woman answered. Jesse glanced at her, then kept working. “And the first sickness? When was that?”

  Aaron looked at Jesse for a long time before he spoke.

  “We don’t know. It came to other communities first, before it came to us. We don’t know when or where it first emerged.”

  “Is it contagious?” Jesse asked. Aaron paused again.

  “There are stories of diseases that ravaged populations, passing from person to person. Some of these stories say that only the bad people got it, that they got it from other bad people through the air or by touch, but most of us believe these are just stories.”

  Jesse narrowed his eyes.

  “Who gets it? People who are in a certain area or who do certain work or work with certain things? Or people who are around the ones with the sickness?”

  “We’ve moved sleeping quarters a dozen times trying to escape it,” Aaron said. “The nurses fall sick the same as everyone else. Kina has worked in the sick rooms since the sickness came to us,” he said, indicating the woman in the doorway. “She has no symptoms.”

  “But her son has,” Jesse said. He opened the boys eyes and looked into them for a long time. “Is there a difference in gender? Age?”

  “Children,” Kina whispered. “The children die faster.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “Many of the men have shown symptoms for dozens of days with little progression. The children just fade away…”

  Jesse sighed.

  “I’m going to need to look at all of them. Do you have any tools for monitoring them? Anything that you use as a measure of health?”

  He stood and left with Kina and Cassie moved to follow. Aaron touched her arm.

  “You need food,” he said.

  “I should stay with him,” she told him.

  “It’s okay, Cassie,” Jesse said. “Go see. I’ll be here.”

  She watched as Jesse followed Kina down the hallway, going into another room, then turned to Aaron.

  “He’s the best I’ve ever known. I hope he can help you.”

  Aaron led back out of the hallway of sick rooms, making an affirmative motion with his hand.

  “Yes, I hope so, too.”

  Kenzi food was a pale mash, mostly flavorless but with a solid, not-unpleasant texture and a healthy feeling of being full after she ate. There were various tubers and vegetables in storage, but Aaron explained to Cassie that they were lighter foods, and that what she really wanted was the mash.

  “What is it made from?” she asked, smelling it.

  “We take a few of the more solid plants and prepare them with water and non-organic substances. Many things you probably wouldn’t recognize.”

  She wanted to ask specifically to make sure there wasn’t anything inappropriate in it, but thought that would be rude. She ate, and then Aaron introduced her to a young woman, Charm, who would take care of her.

  “I’m very self-sufficient,” Cassie argued. “I don’t want to take away from your healthy population when you need all of them.”

  Charm turned sideways and looked away. Shame.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Cassie asked.

  “Charm has no feeling in her hands,” Aaron said. “When she tries to work, the pain makes it impossible. Her feet are healthy, but she…”

  “I’m going to die soon,” Charm said. “This is all I’m good for, for now.”

  “Charm,” Aaron said.

  “I’m not bitter,” she answered, glancing at Cassie. “I just can’t stand how everyone dances around it. It’s going to happen. It is what is.”

  “This is unacceptable behavior,” Aaron said. “I cannot tolerate it.”

  “Aaron,” Cassie said. “Everyone reacts to death differently. If you’re worried about what I think, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

  Aaron looked from Cassie to Charm and back, then shifted his shoulders back, assent.

  “Very well. Charm will see to you for as long as you stay.”

  He left them and Charm looked after him. Cassie wished she had more experience reading Kenzi faces.

  “For as long as I last,” the woman said, then turned to Cassie. “What do you want to see?”

  “Well, we passed a couple of your smaller towns on the way here,” Cassie said, “but we didn’t get to look around much. The room where the water was was beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is,” Charm said, starting away. Cassie followed.

  “How long have you been sick?” Cassie asked. Charm looked back at her. Cassie shrugged her elbows. “Sometimes blunt helps.”

  “Fifteen days,” Charm answered.

  “And it’s only in your hands?”

  “Here,” Charm said, motioning on her forearms.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “It still makes me sad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re young and haven’t done anything to deserve a young death.”

  “How do you know?”

  Cassie smiled despite herself.

  “I choose to believe it.”

  “What you just did,” Charm said. “What is that?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The…” Charm paused and held out her hands, tentative. Cassie stepped forward. The woman brush
ed her cheeks with both hands. Cassie smiled again and Charm stepped back.

  “What is that? The other one does it at you.”

  “It’s a smile,” Cassie said. “It means we’re happy. Or amused. Or some other things.”

  “It’s very complicated?”

  “Your hand motions confuse me,” Cassie said. “I think smiling is simpler, but it might be that complicated.”

  “It wrinkles your face.”

  “Yes it does.”

  “You have very smooth skin. Like an infant.”

  “My home is much kinder than yours.”

  “Everyone looks like you, where you came from?”

  “Different hair, different skin color, different build, but yes, as similar to me as Kenzi are to each other.”

  “How odd. For everyone to be pink.”

  Cassie’s palette of colors was too limited to describe the error in that, so she didn’t try.

  “Your hair still looks nice,” she said.

  “My mother does it,” Charm said. “My friends did, at first, but most of them are sick, now, too.”

  “How many people used to live here?”

  “Thousands,” Charm said. “One of the biggest Kenzi cities I know of.”

  “And how many are here now?”

  “Four hundred sixty eight,” Kenzi said.

  “And the empty towns?”

  “Came here when they were too sick to take care of themselves.”

  “And you just took them in?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Charm asked. “By that point we were too few to need all of the food we had stored, and we could all see that we were destined to die, anyway.”

  “You took in all of the sick people from another town when you were struggling, yourselves,” Cassie said. “Not everyone I know would do that.”

  “They’re our friends,” Charm said. “Many of them are family. We wouldn’t just let them die.”

  Cassie nodded.

  “You are strong people,” she said. “I admire that.”

  “Not strong enough,” Charm answered, turning down a slope. They walked in silence down to the water room.

  “This is Sanctuary,” Charm said. “No conflict is permitted to exist here.”