“See what?” replied Tonya.
“Nature. The way things are supposed to be. The way things should be. The way things were, until the white man perverted it.”
Tonya did not answer immediately. Instead, she watched as the people worked in unison toward a common goal. She understood then why she had been compelled to come to the Santorian Mountains.
She had been called by the voice of the mountain.
She turned to Malhalla. “Are you the voice of the mountain?” she asked.
Malhalla smiled. “I am only one of the voices,” she said. “Those who have lived here, loved here, and died here … their voices combine to be the voice of the mountain. Do you understand?”
Oddly enough, Tonya did. There was spirituality about her people that, although it was diminished by the world of the white man, still existed. She felt it from time to time in the oddest places: riding the train through the city and seeing people as they moved mechanically about their days, staring out at the farmlands that bordered the highway, and when making love. She knew that there was a bond that stretched beyond the flesh. It was a bond that held all things together, uniting them as only it could.
The voice of the mountain was speaking to her in those moments.
She knew that with absolute certainty now. The voice had been there with her throughout her life.
“Why am I here?” she asked.
Malhalla’s smiled widened. “Why has anyone ever existed?” she said. “To learn. To grow. And to love.”
She waved her hand. “Everything you see here was born of love. Love of life. Love of nature. Love of self. But as man’s intellect and ambition grew, so did his greed. He lost his way. He forgot that the world was a gift and he started to harm it.”
She waved her hand again and the landscape around them slowly began to change. Tonya gasped as the tall trees dissolved back into the earth and the mountain rumbled. Lava flowed down the side of the mountain from its peak, and a myriad strange and disturbing creatures seemed to hide in every nook and cave that littered the hillside.
She turned and looked at Malhalla.
“The voice of the mountain has always been here,” she said, “but it hasn’t always been in control. Like in your time, in the distant past of mankind, darkness ruled the earth. Strange creatures from beyond our world once threatened to destroy everything. But they were unsuccessful. Watch.”
She pointed toward the mountain as the lava flowed into the caves and the hideous beasts within screamed in agony as they burned. Some of them managed to exit their caverns and slither away. Through some sort of power Tonya did not understand, they took flight—although they had no wings and were massive, multi-tentacled beasts. There was no way they should have been able to fly, but they did. Then the sky opened up into a misty black void and swallowed the creatures.
“They are the Old Ones,” Malhalla said, noticing her bewilderment. “They came to our world from beyond.”
“From beyond? From beyond where?”
“From beyond this world,” Malhalla told her. “They came here to conquer man, but the mountain drove them away.”
The lava stopped and cooled, and then the landscape began to change. The trees emerged from the ground. Saplings grew quickly, and soon Tonya found herself once again beneath a canopy of leaves with natives working around her. They built huts and lived in the woods. It seemed like a million people populated the area around her.
“As I said, they call them the ‘Mississippians’ in your time,” Malhalla told her as she gazed in wonder, “but their name is much more ancient than that, and it is now lost in the memory of time. They ruled this area for centuries. They flourished and lived good lives. They mined the rich lands around these mountains for their crops and livestock. They built mounds so they could be closer to the heavens, and the gods seemed to smile upon them.”
Tonya turned and looked away from the mountains. Everywhere she looked, she saw rich farmlands. There was a network of dirt roads that weaved across the land like highways, and those roads were teeming with merchants and travelers.
“It’s beautiful,” Tonya said.
“It was beautiful.”
“What happened to them?”
“Behold,” said Malhalla.
Tonya looked and saw the sky open up once again above the endless world of commerce and the things Malhalla called the Old Ones emerged. Those ancient creatures flowed out of the opening and attacked the people. Blood and destruction was everywhere as the Mississippians died. The Old Ones tore people limb from limb and consumed them with gaping mouths.
In no time at all, the crops were destroyed and the huts and buildings were smashed to the ground.
It seemed as if the Mississippians were doomed.
Then, in the distance, Tonya heard as massive rumbling. She turned to see the Santorian mountain range, much different that it was in her time, come to life. Lava exploded into the air and crashed into the land around the Old Ones. It splattered as it struck, burning the Old Ones and making them scream in inhuman voices.
The Old Ones rose into the sky to avoid the pummeling lava barrage.
The lava continued flying and the Old Ones receded back into their dimensional portal. It was only when the portal closed that the barrage ended. But by then the damage was done.
The Mississippian village was decimated.
Tonya saw the few remaining inhabitants fleeing the destruction.
“Why?” she asked.
Malhalla spoke softly and calmly. “The lesser of two evils,” she said. “If the mountain had not acted, the Old Ones would have won the day and mankind would now be their slaves. It fought to prevent that.”
“But people died!”
“People die every day,” Malhalla said. “And they are born every day. The people of the Mississippi Valley died long ago so that you might live. The mountain decreed it.”
Tonya pondered that. She had come to the Santorian Mountains in search of her genealogy and found far more that she bargained for. She wondered if, perhaps, she was dreaming. She would wake up in her bed, groggy, and marvel at the bizarre dream.
But she knew that this was much more than a dream. The eerie, unearthly glow that surrounded her was dreamlike in a way, but the reality of the scene before her was far too genuine. She had heard the screams of the dying as the Old Ones destroyed the city, and felt the warmth of the lava as it flew overhead. If it were a dream, it was the most vivid one she had ever had.
“Why have you shown me this?” she asked Malhalla as she felt herself drawn away from the world of the Mississippians.
“Remembrance,” Malhalla said. The world around her coalesced and contorted.
Tonya shook her head. “But no one remembers the truth about the Mississippians,” she said. “How can we remember if no one tells the tale?”
“That is why you are here,” Malhalla said.
Slowly, the modern world returned and they were standing on the path Tonya had been hiking. In the distance, she could see Mount Sallee, the highest peak in the mountain range. Somehow, while under Malhalla’s spell, the other mountains had been obscured. She had seen only what Malhalla wanted her to see. Perhaps, she reckoned, Malhalla was the guardian of that particular mountain.
She wondered if the other mountains had a voice.
She hoped so.
Regardless, she was back where she had started.
Malhalla smiled. “Every generation of our people passes the torch of remembrance on to the next. It is how it has been since the dawn of our time when the first of our people heard the voice of the mountain.”
She waved her hand, and once again the majestic tribe of her people appeared before her in the haze. “It is our faith in their memory that keeps the voice of the mountain alive.”
“I don’t understand,” said Tonya.
Once again, Malhalla smiled. “It is only through wisdom and time that you shall understand,” she said. “Are you willing to learn?”
“Are you offering to teach me?”
Malhalla nodded. “Yes.”
“What can you teach me?” Tonya asked. She pointed toward the vision of the tribe. “This world has been replaced.”
“It has,” said Malhalla. “But it should not be forgotten. The Old Ones will return someday and the mountain needs someone who can speak with it, listen to its voice. The mountain will help you defend against The Old Ones. Your technology will not defeat them; only your faith.”
“But our bombs—”
“—Will destroy the world along with The Old Ones … and the mountain will not allow it.”
“How can it stop us?”
Malhalla’s smile faded. “In much the way it stopped the Old Ones before, the mountain will call upon you when they lay siege to your world. It has resisted the temptation to do so already … and it speaks to mankind, but you do not listen.”
“It speaks to us? How?”
“Floods. Earthquakes. Hurricanes. The mountain and its brethren have told you. You do not see it because you do not listen.”
“And you can teach me to listen?”
“Yes.”
“I want to learn.”
Malhalla’s smile returned. “I knew I chose well. ”
Suddenly, the world changed around Tonya. She looked at the tribe. She was not just watching them now; she was actually there, with them. She could smell the fresh air, and hear the birds in the sky. She knew they were long gone, and that their time would never return. Yet, it was as real as any memory she had ever had.
Man had moved on. In opening his eyes to technology, he had closed his eyes to the simple truth of the land. Tonya felt the loss every time she saw someone with his or her nose buried in a cell phone, texting or surfing the Internet. It was not the way life was supposed to be. Mankind had perverted the world so much that Malhalla’s world was not even a memory to them now.
They had forgotten how to live.
But it wasn’t too late.
“The mountain. I want to hear it,” she said.
Malhalla took her hand. “All you need to do is listen.”
Tonya closed her eyes. At first, nothing happened. Then, ever so softly, she heard a voice. It was soft and sweet and as she listened, she realized that the earth was sentient. It was hurting.
She listened as the mountain spoke to her and it was beautiful.
Roger Trexler is a writer from southern Illinois. His Frank Powell detective series of books is available through crossroadspress.com. He has many other novels, short story and poetry collections (in both print and e-book) available through amazon.com. He is also an actor and a director. His first feature-length film, Platypossum, will debut at the Cape Girardeau, Missouri, comic con on April 22, 2017.
Plat 7
by
Max Wright
“Boy’s shoe. Red Con, white laces. Size four,” Hernandez said over the walkie-talkie.
Sheriff Wade Williams felt his innards slide into the toes of his Red Wing boots. “Fuck.” The word came out before he could even decide if it was the right response or not. A match to what Micah Parker was reported wearing when he went missing at 3:45 p.m. yesterday. Now it was nearly 11:30 a.m., and the all-out search had been going on since sunrise. “Okay, keep looking,” he added.
The sheriff shot a look toward the black-and-white parked in the churned-up dirt of Plat 7, one of the still-unbuilt areas of the new development. The Parkers were inside, huddled together, their world destroyed. He thought about going over and talking to them, but decided against it, at least until he knew more.
An elderly woman came by with a box of sandwiches. “Hungry, Sheriff?”
“Already ate, ma’am. Thanks for helping out.”
“That poor family.” The woman moved on, offering lunch to a cluster of EMTs gathered around an ambulance.
Williams studied the map spread out on the tailgate of his county-issued Tahoe. Not much of a command center, but budgets out here hadn’t caught up with the population boom. Neither had his map, which still showed many of the homes as empty lots. Last election this whole subdivision had still been farmland and the fringes of Lansky’s Wood. Now the scrubby forest where he used to hike and bird watch with his daughters was all high-end housing, foreign luxury crossovers in every driveway, chain restaurants and coffee shops on every corner. His ten-year-old sheriff’s department Tahoe was almost an embarrassment.
What do I do now? He had about twenty men from West Park Methodist fanning out through the alleys and fringes of the development to the north. Troop 151 of Explorer Scouts was moving through what was left of the farmland to the west. A mixed team of firefighters and volunteers was working their way east through the park and the edge of the woods. His own men were searching due south in the heart of the woods. And the Parkers were sitting in the black-and-white, staring at him like he was supposed to have an answer. Shifting more resources to where they’d found the shoe made sense. Unless somebody took Micah somewhere.
“Sheriff Williams.”
Williams turned.
Mr. Parker stood with arms folded, pale, stubble on his face.
“Any word on Micah?” Parker’s voice was thin with concealed desperation.
“Nothing yet, Phil.” Williams put the walkie-talkie on the lift gate. “At this point in the investigation, that’s probably a good sign. There’s a chance, maybe even a good chance, he’s okay.”
“We called all his friends. Should we try again?”
The walkie-talkie crackled. “Sheriff.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Parker. The best thing you can do right now is be with your wife. I’ll come by to talk to you both in a bit.” Williams turned and keyed the radio. “Go ahead.”
“It’s Hernandez. Boss, you going to send me some more people? We haven’t found anything besides the shoe, and these woods are thicker than I remembered.”
Shit. Extra men is the one thing I haven’t got. “Yeah. I got a couple reserves coming in. But I was going to send them door-to-door.” He couldn’t very well have volunteers going through people’s houses. The badge lent authority and trust, and implied accountability. More than implied it. Guaranteed it.
“The kid kept going, like he was walking across the clearing. But the tracks run out once you get into the trees again. Like the kid just up and disappeared.”
“Tape off the area where you found the shoe. When the fire and rescue guys are done with the East Quadrant we’ll have them follow up. I don’t want to send a bunch of amateurs into the woods. Too likely to mess up my evidence.”
“Copy that. I’ll check in later.”
Williams adjusted his belt, looked at the map again. He was staffed for a rural county that had turned into a crowded exurb seemingly overnight. Even when he could send the fire and rescue team into the woods, it wouldn’t be enough. And some kid’s life was at stake.
Williams checked his watch. Noon-21. He’d sent the Explorer Troop into the woods twenty minutes ago. They had no experience, but they were good kids and, since some of them were considering careers in law enforcement, they were likely to do as they were told. Last thing I need is somebody trying to be a hero if something goes sideways.
Williams climbed into the front seat of his Tahoe, keyed the radio. “Elle, you there?”
“Sure thing.”
“You got any word on the dog team?”
“I was just about to ring you up. The city police called here about five, six minutes ago. The K-9 truck conked out on the freeway, Sheriff.”
“Are you shitting me, Elle?” Williams couldn’t believe it. They needed those dogs.
“They got another vehicle on the way to transfer the dogs. I’m sorry about that.” Elle sounded miserable, like she felt personally responsible.
“Oh well. Crap happens. Let me know if you hear anything else.” He rested the mike in the cradle and got back out of the truck. Noon-thirty. Every minute that passed, his odds of finding little Micah alive lessened.
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“Hello, Sheriff?” The voice was high-pitched, nervous. Not one of his people.
“Who is this?”
“Kendall. Kendall Riley. I’m an Explorer—“
“Well, Kendall, you want to explain to me what you’re doing on my deputy’s radio?”
“I found it. I mean Deputy Hernandez was here, but he’s gone and I’m scared.”
Williams’ chest clenched. Shit was going all kinds of bad. “Hold on, Kendall. I’m coming.”
Williams trudged across Plat 7 and into Lansky’s Woods. He stuck to the trail, knowing that’s the way Hernandez had gone. Kendall must have, too, to find his walkie-talkie. The branches of the trees closed overhead, thicker than usual, rustling and cracking in the breeze. The trail took a rise, and then dropped and opened into a small clearing partially marked with crime scene tape. He spotted the girl, a skinny kid with dark hair, except for her dyed blonde bangs. She was still clutching the walkie-talkie.
“Kendall?” He spoke softly.
“Sheriff. I am so scared.”
“It’s okay, Kendall. I’m here. I need you to tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
Kendall brushed her hair out of her eyes with one hand. “Okay. So they sent my Explorer troop into the woods. And I was supposed to help Deputy Hernandez secure the area where they found the shoe. So we were putting up the tape. And he was just a couple yards away, putting up tape—”
Kendall hesitated, made gasping sounds like she was fighting the urge to cry. Or couldn’t breathe.
“It’s all right.” Williams touched her shoulder. “Slow down and take your time.”
“So we were marking the site off. And I looked away for maybe two seconds. And when I looked back, he was gone.”
“Gone where?” Williams flicked his eyes across the clearing, looking for a sign of his deputy, or of a struggle.
“Just gone. Except for his walkie-talkie.” Kendall shivered, even in her jacket. “I was afraid to go back down the trail alone. So I called you.”
“That was smart, Kendall. You did the right thing.” He stepped under the tape and into the clearing. It was cold, colder than usual for this time of year. “I’m just going to have a quick look around. Then we’ll get you back to town, okay?”
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