Post by HCM Brain Candy on Aug 16, 2010 16:44:21 GMT -6
Decided to post one of my ongoing stories here, figured it'd give a bit more activity to the Board.
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Winter was, of all things, checking her appearance in a mirror. Peter had long ago stopped thinking of her as “Mother” or “Mom” and simply referred to her by her first name at this point. Sometimes she got riled by it, claiming it was disrespectful, but nowadays she seemed to grin and bear it as Peter simply kept on referring to her by it. But why she was looking in a mirror at a time like this defied all reason. However, Peter had no problem conceiving her doing such a thing even in their current circumstances.
“Why are you checking out your appearance at a time like this?” he asked with an ever so slight trace of contempt.
Looking up from her preening, Winter met Peter’s gaze with a stare that was both annoyed and tired. Surprisingly, though, it softened somewhat before she returned her attention back to the handheld mirror. “Because my hair is a mess.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Peter responded, “I said why at a time like this?”
This time she didn’t even bother to look up. “Well, Peter, sometimes it isn’t a good time to check one’s appearance, but in my experience it’s never a bad time to do so either.”
Her answer was so absurd and smacked so much of vanity that Peter just snorted and didn’t even bother to refute it. Yeah, he thought, what about when it’s right after your house has been robbed, or you’ve just been told a family member has died, or you’re suddenly stuck in a wilderness with no idea how you go there and no clue where you are or how to get back.
Truth be told, it wasn’t a terribly unpleasant place. Between two lofty hill lines about a mile apart from each other there was a valley that could probably be well described as the Garden of Eden; it was that stunning. Already they had come across the most varied and spectacular formations and waterfalls that Peter had ever conceived of, let alone seen. Even the place they were resting at at that moment was basically a football field’s length away from a waterfall that had to be as tall as a thirty story skyscraper, spanning up the rock face majestically and casting a spray that produced a magnificent rainbow arc that seemed so close that Peter could reach out and touch it. Above that in the now burnt orange sky, the clouds for some reason got in on the act too, arching against each other and spiraling into shapes that looked like someone was up there spinning cotton candy. The air too seemed... different, and invigorating too. Everything about this place made it seem like a paradise.
Except that paradise wasn’t supposed to be a prison. They had been on the road to Albuquerque when they made a wrong turn, gotten the vehicle stuck in mud, had to get out... and then suddenly they turned around and their car was just gone, finding themselves stuck here, wherever “here” was.
They had been climbing up the valley ever since they arrived, trying to get higher up so they could see a way out or to simply see if they could find out where they were, though Peter was increasingly becoming skeptical of the latter goal. Naturally, the first attempt they had tried was to climb the ridgeline of the hills that surrounded the valley, but what had lain beyond boggled their minds and had left them no closer to answers. Beyond the hills the vegetation declined sharply and a mere hundred feet beyond the terrain gave way to barren rocks as far as the eye could see. There was nothing, just rocks and some distant mountains that looked far more unwelcoming than the valley they had found themselves in. They had even tried the opposing ridgeline to what Peter figured was the west, based on the direction the sun was heading, but the mile long hike there hadn’t been worth what they saw. The west, if possible, was even more foreboding than the east, for in the distance the rocks started acquiring wicked jagged shapes that looked as though they were watching and waiting to cut up unwary travelers. Not even a Humvee or some other all terrain vehicle would have been able to cross such a rough terrain. Somewhat despairingly, they had decided to see if there was anything else here at all other than a valley and opposing wastes. Hence the trek upriver they were now undertaking.
Now, however they had run up against the mammoth waterfall that stood in front of them; scaling it up would be more an exercise in mountain climbing than hiking, and they were all thoroughly exhausted by their arduous trek as it was. Currently they were taking a break and just resting, although with the sky fading into hues of orange and magenta with the setting of the sun, Peter knew they’d have to prepare for nightfall before long.
Brushing himself off as he stretched his legs, Peter looked around to get better bearings. In so doing he couldn’t help but notice Merar by the edge of the river that pretty much defined the valley, sulking by the water’s edge. Peter rolled his eyes as such behavior pretty much defined his younger brother and was exactly what he expected from him. “Merar,” he yelled, “why don’t you quit moping and do something useful for a change?”
Merar heard his brother’s comment and got up, but merely started to pace up and down the shore of the river as he had been five minutes before. “There’s nothing to do right now,” he responded apathetically.
His comment earned a solid scowl from Peter. “Nothing to do, huh? Well do you see the sky above you?” he pointed up. “Maybe you might happen to notice that the sun’s going down and it’s going to, you know, get dark soon. In which case we’re going to need a little thing called a fire so we don’t freeze our butts off during the night.”
“But we still might find some kind of... I don’t know, some kind of civilization,” Merar pointed out.
Merar’s point was of course stupid as Hell. “Uh, Hello genius, that’s what we’ve been trying to find for the past seven or so hours,” Peter pointed out. “Unless you’ve happened to see a shack or road or something and just neglected to tell us, I really don’t think that we’re going to be finding anything remotely civilized in the next thirty or so minutes of daylight left. So that means a F-I-R-E, FIRE,” he enunciated excessively.
“It is getting late,” Winter chimed in, agreeing with Peter, “and we’re probably not going to find anyone else around here any time soon, so we really should settle ourselves in for the night.”
Satisfied, Peter turned around to head into the brush to get the wood and kindling needed to build a fire, but before he could do so Winter blocked him by extending her arm in his path. “How many times do have to tell you to stop being so negative with your brother?” she demanded.
“He’s asking for it,” he said defensively, “all he’s done this whole time is-“
Winter, however, would have none of his common sense. “You know that we’ve had this discussion before. Really Peter, you’re starting to act like you father. So just stop it now.”
Peter did as he was told, but not out of any respect. It had more to do with stopping himself before he started saying really nasty things to Winter and provoking an argument, because right now he really didn’t want to waste his time. That didn’t mean that he had to like it though. He watched her pull away and head over to Merar to talk about God knew what with him. Whatever it was, it was either some ineffectual speech to motivate him or some ridiculous attempt to cheer him up. Peter knew his mother; as long as you didn’t in any way stand up to her then she would put on a bright and chipper face and act all nice. Scowling, Peter moved off to the edge of the brush to start collecting to the fire.
About a minute later, Winter and Merar came up behind him, claiming they were off to go pick some of the berries they had seen on the way up here. “Hopefully they’ll be enough to offset not having eaten anything since breakfast,” Winter explained. “Keep an eye on Angel.”
Peter was less concerned that berries, or any food right now, would satisfy their hunger than he was about the fact that his mother and brother were the ones picking them. They were liable to pick the berries that were rotten or sour. They didn’t know how to pick ripe berries; they just weren’t the kind who could bear good fruit.
There was no sense dwelling on the problem, though. If they wanted to go off and demonstrate their incompetence, so be it; Peter would stay and do other important things like build their campfire. He started slowly, scrounging around the ground for the right kind of kindling that he needed. Gathering up an armful of the stuff, he turned around and made his way back to the edge of the clearing.
He heard a scuffling noise behind him, but saw that it was just his six year old sister, Angel, who had been keeping close to him since Winter and Merar left for the berries. She was always the quiet one, even as an infant; if you didn’t know you’d hardly even know she was around most of the time. Out of the four of them, Angel was the one that Peter was most worried for. He wasn’t sure exactly how she was taking all of this. Right now though, she was just trudging along quietly, hugging her teddy bear in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
It didn’t take many more trips to gather kindling, but he was having trouble finding the solid wood he was going to need to get the fire roaring. The sun had already dipped below the westward ridgeline and was probably already sinking below the horizon by now. The shadows of night slowly crept over the garden valley, and Angel hugged her teddy bear ever tighter. Every now and then she would hear or see something in the brush and she would snap on the flashlight and wave it around, almost as if she hoped that the light itself would force whatever it was she thought was there to go away. As Peter worked he saw what he thought were bats flying overhead; gazing around he saw a few come by the clearing that he selected to build the fire in. There weren’t too many, but he was worried about his sister’s reaction.
As he watched he saw one of the bats fly onto a bush not two feet from Angel. She of course noticed instantly but to Peter’s surprise she didn’t freak out. She was guarded in her movements, but as the bat climbed around the bush and didn’t act at all threatening slowly Angel started to let go of some of her tension. “Peter, is it going to bite me?” her weak timid voice asked.
Peter stared at the bat as it groped its way along the ins and outs of the bush, wondering that very question. “I don’t think so; he looks like he’s just looking for some bugs in there to eat.”
The answer didn’t entirely satisfy Angel, but it did serve to calm her down somewhat. Their new bat acquaintance, meanwhile, seemed content to putz around the bush eating its fill of bugs, which Peter was personally more than happy to oblige. The bat continued its crawlings, and even to Angel it looked as though it weren’t so bad. Then there was suddenly a great flurry of movement and a sizable swarm of bats swooped into the clearing, leaving Peter to instinctively duck for cover. Belatedly realizing that bats were harmless creatures, he realized that such a fact would be absolutely no concession for Angel, who was now screaming bloody murder. Peter, though not at all convinced that his sister was in any real danger, couldn’t help but jump forward to ward off what she at least was utterly convinced were evil blood sucking monsters. At the very least, they were vicious little scamps that seemed to be here for no other reason than to brutally rob her of her piece of mind, and he was going to do his best to chase them away.
The swarm didn’t last long, only ten seconds at most, though it had to have seemed like an eternity to Angel; they started flocking away in almost an instant. Before they left entirely, Angel managed to snap her flashlight on again and shone it upon her tormentors, catching the last few stragglers as they bolted into the rapidly darkening sky.
ExaMining his sister, Peter found her petrified against a nearby tree, holding the flashlight as if it were the only thing protecting her, like it was the silver bullet that could vanquish the monsters and she wasn’t going to let go of it anytime soon. Peter stooped down right next to her and hugged her; truth be told he was at a loss for what to say seeing how terrified his sister was, so he just did the best impromptu comforting he could, holding and whispering, “it’s ok, it’s ok, they’re gone now.” Peter knew that when you were younger, time seemed to move so much slower than it did when you grew up; he remembered how long the day was when his father left. Time had ground by like a turtle glued to the floor, and he winced at how long his sister must have been experiencing the uncertainties and now the terrors of this long day.
So deep was he in these thoughts that he almost didn’t notice her begin to sob. Immediately he fully embraced her, trying to rub away the fear she must have been feeling. Damn it, why couldn’t he think of something more to say than just “It’s ok, it’s ok” over and over again? He should have been able to think of at least something more than that to comfort her.
“Peter?”
Moving himself back to look her right in the eyes to console her, Peter didn’t say anything, he just indicated for her to ask him anything she wanted to with a nod of his head. It was something they were both used to; Peter had been thirteen when Angel had been born, and he had always been there for his baby sister. She was one who asked him questions all the time when she was feeling particularly chipper, so much so that that single nod was enough to tell her that her big brother Peter was there for her.
“Are the bats going to come back?”
Peter thought for a moment to find the best thing to say. “They shouldn’t. Bats are little guys, Angel; they’re probably more scared of you then you were of them.”
The look on Angel’s face showed that she was very unconvinced of that, at least in terms of intensity. But it did have the desired effect of calming her down so her face wasn’t so pale and she wasn’t as stiff as a dead fish. Peter smiled warmly at her and looked around. “See? The bats aren’t coming back. And if they do I’ll scare ‘em off, ok?”
Angel looked like she was debating whether that was enough, but with her brother’s warm smile it seemed so, so she nodded.
“Ok,” he whispered gently. “Well, then, I’ve gotta get back to building this fire.” With that he turned around to gather some more wood. Angel was right behind him, teddy bear and flashlight in hand.
As he worked, Angel kept looking around in the woods again, reacting to every perceived movement or noise that issued from the brush. “Don’t worry Angel, I’m right here in front of you.” Again he went back to scouring for more heavy pieces of wood that he was having such a beast of a time trying to find.
“Peter?” Angel’s fragile voice called out again.
“Yeah Angel?”
“... Are there monsters in these trees?”
It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Peter’s mind for some time now. He didn’t know where they were, but as crazy as it sounded he didn’t think they were on Earth anymore. He had never heard of a valley quite like this, hidden in the middle of a wasteland, anywhere in the world, and it was absurd to suggest that civilization had somehow left it undisturbed. True, he wasn’t an expert on geography, but everything he had seen today seemed to tell him they weren’t in Kansas (or New Mexico for that matter) anymore. That of course left the question of the varieties of animal life that might live... wherever here was. True, the bats seemed similar enough to those he was familiar with, but what if there were things here that were a bit more exotic and perhaps had a taste for meat?
Swallowing, Peter tried to think of something that would allay his sister’s fears. “Well, you’ve gotta remember, Angel, even if there are some weird animals out there, most animals that eat meat don’t attack other animals that they don’t know about. They’ll probably be all ‘what is that thing walking around on two legs? Better not mess with it.’” Peter personally thought his explanation was just a bit convoluted, and Angel didn’t look entirely convinced.
“So, they’re not going to eat us?”
Peter sighed after he hefted a good solid sized log. He wondered if he should just lie to her. “I don’t think so, and even if they do, I’ll scare ‘em off,” he decided, trying to sound more boisterous than he felt.
Angel fell silent for a moment. “I don’t want to get eaten...” she whispered, clutching her teddy bear tightly.
Damn it, Peter thought. He was trying to alleviate her fear, but it seemed he wasn’t making a dent. He turned around to face her. “Do you think I’m strong?” he asked, going for broke.
“...I guess.”
Peter smiled. “Well, if there’s any monster out there that wants to try and eat any of us, they have to get through me first, ok?”
His gamble seemed to pay off, and Angel seemed satisfied.
However, as before his consolations proved to be only temporary.
“Peter?”
A thread of irritation welled up in him, but Peter instantly bit down on himself; there was no way that he was going to be anything but patient and loving with his sister; she, unlike Winter and Merar, was someone who deserved such things. “What is it, Angel?” he asked gently.
“Are we ever going to get home?”
That unfortunately, was something that Peter was less certain about than anything. He sure wanted to get back home and not have to claw his way through tangled brush all day, and he would have given anything for some McDonald’s right about then. He certainly wanted Angel to get back to her life, to go to Kindergarten and learn with all the other kids and just be free to live life as a normal six year old. The thought of her having to scrounge around for food for the rest of her life in a wilderness, no matter how pleasant it might seem, was one that turned his blood to ice.
“Are things going to be the same again?”
Such a question was one Peter wouldn’t have expected from a six year old. Or rather, six years olds shouldn’t have to ask questions like that, ever. “Tell you what, Angel,” he said, setting down the log and squatting down right next to her so they were close to eye level, “A lot of things can happen in life. Some of them aren’t very pleasant. But there are always some things you can count on.”
A glimmer of hope passed her eyes. “What?” she asked anxiously.
“One of them is that no matter what happens, I’m going to look after you, ok?” he moved over to hug her. “Doesn’t matter what happens, I’m always going to be here so you don’t have to be afraid.”
“...Peter?” Angel asked after a moment.
“Yeah Angel?”
“...Thank you.”
It wasn’t an obligatory polite response, it was genuine; she was speaking from her heart. It was all that Peter could do not to well up in tears right at that moment. Sometimes kids said the darndest things. He smiled at her with a warm glow, having to wipe away a tear from his eye. “Well then,” he told her softly, “We’d better get this fire ready for when Mom and Merar get back, ok?” Angel nodded, and followed in step right behind him.
Pushing aside the brush and making their way into the clearing, he first heard and then saw both Merar and Winter come barreling forward panting like they had just finished a boot camp exercise. “Wha...What was wrong?” Winter said between heaves of breath, “We heard screaming.”
“Just a couple bats; they gave Angel a scare, but they flew away,” Peter explained.
“So, we ran all the way back up here for nothing?” Merar asked somewhat annoyed.
Peter shrugged. “You got here quicker, didn’t you? Now you can help me with this fire.”
“We don’t need a fire to eat berries,” Merar declared as he pointed to a pile of berries he had stuffed into a pocket made by bunching up the bottom of his shirt. He also pulled out a handful from his pockets.
Peter could have argued the point but decided it was pointless; the building of the fire was going to happen anyways regardless of whatever stupid crap came out of his brother’s mouth. That said he decided to see what kind of berries they had gotten, although he was somewhat cautious. Knowing his brother he had picked the ones that had stood out and were thus likely to less than appetizing. Looking over what he had brought, even the stuff he had brought in his sweaty pockets (which Peter consequently wouldn’t eat in a million years), it was obvious that Merar had gone after the weirder, more exotic looking berries, including some that didn’t look quite ripe. Against his better judgment he tasted a couple. As he suspected, Merar was, simply put, useless. His berries were hardly ripe at all and had probably been selected because they caught Merar’s eye, the fool that he was.
Grumbling a few unkind words that Merar just rolled his eyes at, Peter found that Winter had gathered some berries of her own in her purse, which she deposited in Peter’s arms as she sat down by the pile of wood to start the fire (at least someone besides himself wasn’t useless). Winter’s berries, however, didn’t look quite right either. Tasting a couple, Peter nearly spat them out. Whereas his brother’s had been under ripe, his mother’s had been way overripe. “Geez, woman,” he said, “what kind of berries were you trying to pick?”
“I tried to get the ripest ones I could get,” Winter said defensively.
You tried a little too well, Peter thought bitterly. It was entirely like her, however; she always had absurd standards in just about everything, so high that she often fell flat of her goal. What the Hell was she thinking? These weren’t any berries that any of them were familiar with, so how could they possibly presume to know which ones were the best? Obviously neither if them had thought to actually taste their own fruit.
Peter just grumbled and popped some more berries into his mouth. Horrible as they were, it was food in his belly and none of them had eaten since breakfast. He figured that little Angel must have been starving, so he knelt over and gave her the rest of the berries, as many as she wanted. She ate without any noticeable sign of disgust as she did so, then again kids could eat their own boogers and think they were delicious; Peter was just glad she was filling her belly as he knew that if they didn’t find a way back home food could become a problem.
Meanwhile Winter was crouched down, hunkered over the would be fire rubbing like mad trying to get something to start. It was painfully obvious that she wasn’t applying at all enough kindling in the spot where she was trying to start the flame. It wasn’t a terribly big issue at the moment though, as they still didn’t have enough big wood to really sustain a fire. Moving off into the brush again, in the corner of his eye he saw Merar squirm uncomfortably as he pulled something out of the back of his pants. Peter’s first crude thought was that it was bong or something, but that’s not what it turned out to be.
“Where did you get that from?” Peter asked incredulously, pointing at the crowbar that his brother now held.
“From the car, I figured we might need it for something.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me, you retard, I could have used that earlier!” Peter exclaimed. How on Earth had his brother managed to walk around this whole time with that stuck down his pants? But Peter was more concerned with that fact that it was here at all. With a crowbar he could have brought down at least some smaller trees and brush and made his job so much easier. Walking over he snatched the crowbar from his incompetent sibling and headed off to get more wood.
Marching back ten minutes later with a sizable amount of timber, Peter saw that Winter was still unable to get a fire going. “Am I the one who has to do everything around here?” he complained aloud.
Snapping around, Winter glared knives at him. “Peter, unless you have something constructive to say, just shut up, please.”
“I’ve got something better than that,” he replied, “How about I do something constructive, like make a fire that actually starts.” Pushing her aside, Peter got to work applying a proper amount of kindling so that when a spark finally came there would be something to actually catch and hold a flame this time. Within five minutes he had it, and the wood pile became a campfire in a matter of moments.
“See?” he leered, “That’s how you’re supposed to build a fire.”
“You can step off the stage, your highness,” Merar sneered back, “You don’t have to act so snobby and high and mighty about it.”
“Well maybe you could learn to actually be useful so that I wouldn’t have to take the glory for everything,” Peter countered.
“Peter!” Winter shouted, “For the love of God, stop being such a-“
Winter stopped suddenly as all four of them heard a loud distinctive rustling of the brush not ten feet behind them. Peter eyed the spot suspiciously but didn’t see anything, but he and it seemed the others too had definitely heard something move nearby. “Shh,” he whispered, straining his ears to catch another sound of their visitor.
Then all Hell broke loose. The woods exploded as a multitude of shapes burst forward and came straight at the group. Angel and Merar screamed and they all instinctively ducked down as two of them came down it what distinctively looked like a predatory swoop, ripping through his shirt and casting a deep claw mark on Peter’s back. Screaming in pain and fury, he snapped his head back to get a look at the creatures.
All in all he guessed that there were probably about six of them in total. They... Peter wasn’t sure what they were. They looked almost like big furry frogs with wings and razor sharp claws. More of their fellows came down for another pass; Peter snatched up the crowbar and swung wildly. Predictably he missed, but it did cause their assailants to swerve wildly in turn to avoid him. Angel’s flashlight shone forth again, swirling about like mad in her desperate attempt to drive away the monsters.
Another pair swooped down and raked Merar on the left arm, and it looked like they got Winter too. Peter ran over to try and cover Angel who was screaming and cowering underneath Winter who was acting as more or less a human shield. Merar screamed in pain but seemed to be trying to hit any of the little devils as they flew past but looked like he wasn’t trying particularly hard. Peter, however, was out for blood and made a hit on one of them that sent it spiraling away into the brush. He clipped another less than five seconds later, but his resistance and posture only seemed instead draw them all to him. The whole lot swooped down nonstop trying to cut him up and gouge out his eyeballs, but he kept swinging even as he kept getting sliced, adrenaline pushing him over the bounds of insanity. He let loose a primal scream and charged them, intent on crushing every single bone in their bodies.
Peter’s berserking seemed though to be paying off. The devils seemed to grow more guarded and less ambitious in their attacks and when Peter clubbed one and from the sound of it broke its leg, they suddenly broke off and retreated into the brush. The wounded one was not far behind its companions; even with its wounded leg it frantically clawed the ground and hovered pathetically with its wings until it disappeared from the clearing. Angel kept the flashlight on them as they retreated, shaking the beam ferociously.
From the sound of things, there didn’t appear to be anymore of the creatures nearby, and the valley again became quiet except for the sounds of the night and the ever present rush of the waterfall nearby. Only then did Peter realize how much he had been cut, and as the adrenaline wore off the pain came kicking and screaming. Each breath became heavy and each step became a marathon in itself as he staggered back to the others and plopped himself next to the fire heaving for breath, the crowbar dropping beside him. The only thing he noticed was Angel still had her flashlight on, keeping guard over the clearing.
They all checked each other out and assessed the damage. Peter had gotten what looked like six different wounds from the little beasts; Merar had gotten attacked three times and Winter two. Angel, miraculously, hadn’t a scrape on her body; the others had taken the brunt of the damage.
Merar headed over to the river nearby to collect some water in a plastic bag Winter had in her purse that she had kept some headache pills in; as they were pain relief pills there wasn’t a better time than the present to take them. Peter received the most with his numerous cuts and gashes. Merar hurried to the river and even though it was less than a hundred yards away, he carried the crowbar just to be on the safe side. He hurried back as fast as he could and Winter used the water to help clean the wounds on all of them, which necessitated that Merar take a couple more trips.
The two of them were quite subdued from that point on, and were mostly intent on getting the wounds cleaned up and staying alert of any more creatures. Peter was still somewhat winded from the encounter and was still catching his breath and bearings. Angel was traumatized, stunned silent, and was curled in a fetal position on the dirt. Winter picked her up and held her beside her, whispering comforting words into her ear. Even as he was, Peter wanted to shake his head. His mother just wasn’t the type who could make much headway on that front.
By this point the sky was totally dark, but miraculously the fire Peter had started before the attack had kept going and was now a respectable campfire that was burning strong, illuminating the clearing and keeping it warm and reasonably comfortable. In addition, Angel still had her flashlight on; she had resisted all of Winter’s urges to turn it off.
Nevertheless, as time wore on the fire started to greatly die down and was in need of more fuel. Peter still ached but he felt well enough to get up and try and scrounge up at least some more wood. Standing up was an exercise in pain as his body protested, but he sucked it up and ignored it as best he could; besides, he couldn’t get to sleep anyway and needed to occupy himself. No one protested as he made his way to get more wood.
In his weakened state Peter mostly trudged along and glanced around for random pieces of wood that caught his eye. He wasn’t terribly worried about getting lost; all he had to be able to do was to see the campfire, so as long as he was close enough to see that, he felt comfortable wandering around. Meandering around somewhat aimlessly, he looked around for a good fifteen minutes before he saw it.
At first he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him. He stared and focused for a moment, trying to clear his mind, but it wasn’t going away; something was glowing up ahead. Peter cursed himself for forgetting to bring the crowbar, this garden was proving to be more and more alien by the minute, and he wasn’t sure if this time would be dangerous or not. Cautiously, he stepped forward though, unable to control his curiosity.
The source of the phosphorescence turned out to be a spring of some sort, about the size of a mudhole, the water bubbling up from underneath glowing a deep violet. Peter instantly thought about radioactivity; anything radioactive enough to glow like this stuff was doing had to be able to cause cancer with a single drop. Then again, this whole garden seemed almost to be otherworldly, so perhaps there could be another reason why it was glowing purple? Unable to figure out if it was one or the other, Peter inched forward. He didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, but then again you weren’t actually supposed to feel radiation until it had already royally screwed up your body from the inside.
Experimentally he grabbed a stick that he poked in the water. Peter’s rational side asked just how he expected to learn anything about the spring’s radioactivity with a stick, but he did it anyway, stirring up the water as he did so. He wasn’t quite prepared, though, when the spring spontaneously flash boiled and exploded outward, spraying the luminescent water all over Peter and everything within twenty feet.
His first thought upon regaining his bearing was why he wasn’t seared to the bone. If that had been a flash boil then shouldn’t the water have been at or near boiling? Eying himself he found that his skin wasn’t burned in the slightest, he was just soaking wet, head to toe. Belatedly he realized that that could be a problem in and of itself; he was liable to get very cold as the night wore on and he could get hypothermia if he wasn’t careful. He was more worried about what exactly had been making the water glow purple; if it was indeed radioactivity, it was now all over him and soaking into his skin. Sure enough looking closely he could see the water on him not only shimmering in the moonlight but was glowing as well. Well, that’s just peachy.
Suddenly the air above the spring started glowing itself. At first Peter feared that whatever it was that was making the water glow had gotten into his brain and was now screwing with everything, but as he watched the glow seemed to glow brighter and actually looked like it was starting to swirl. Then there was a great crash like thunder and the glowing air coalesced quickly into a cloud formation right in front of him.
The noise must have attracted the others, for at that moment Winter, Merar, and Angel all came running, Merar with the crowbar and Angel using her flashlight to navigate the dark woods. They saw Peter sitting on the ground all wet and... glowing, but they didn’t miss the giant glowing whatever-it-was swirling about above them. Its swirling candescence was hypnotizing in its own way.
“And who would this be?” a soft voice mysteriously echoed.
Peter knew where it had come from, but he didn’t quite believe it at first. He could have looked around, but his gut told him that the swirling cloud had just said something. The only thing he checked was to see if the others had heard it and he just wasn’t hearing things. They were looking around, though, and it was plain to see that they’d heard it too.
“Holy crap,” Merar said amazed.
“What are you?” Angel asked in that manner only a six year old can.
The swirling cloud twisted and became almost a vortex of sorts, twisting itself into funnel. “I am one who is familiar with this place, and know that you are from elsewhere. So I may ask who you are just as well as you may ask me.”
If Peter didn’t know any better he’d classify that as a wiseass comment, but thought better of it. What the... cloud thing asked really wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Peter stopped for a moment to consider again the absurdity of a cloud asking anything, but right now he was willing to bear surprises as this all seemed a little too real to be a dream.
“We, uh,” Peter began, “We got lost. Ended up taking a wrong road, and then found it was gone; both in front of us and behind us.” Belatedly he realized he was babbling like an idiot trying to explain (to a cloud!) their situation. “But, uh, yeah, basically, we were someplace... else...”
“Look,” Winter interrupted, cutting short Peter’s rambling, “You just couldn’t, well, tell us which way to get back to Albuquerque, could you?”
Peter shook his head at the absurdity of his mother’s question. “Winter,” he said exasperatedly, “You really think this... whatever, in the middle of a garden in the middle of a place that can’t possibly exist on Earth knows where Albuquerque is?”
“I must confess,” the voiced echoed again, “I am unfamiliar with this ‘Albuquerque’ that you speak of.”
Peter shot his mother a told you so look which she glared back knives.
“Though it is quite apparent that you are lost with no... physical way of returning to your place of origin.”
“Well, that’s really great to hear,” Merar muttered. Peter rolled his eyes, although his brother didn’t hit far from the truth. No physical way of returning home sounded a lot like a dead end.
“Ok, ok, then,” Peter held his hands up, “we’ve started on all this but we’ve still got one question; just... what are you? Are you some sort of, I don’t know, some sort of guardian spirit or whatnot?” He then remembered something else. “And... that water, it wasn’t radio...” he paused, realizing that the cloud might not be familiar with that word either. “It wasn’t poisonous or anything, was it?”
The cloud shifted again, and looked like a pulsing wave that moved back and forth above the spring. “The answers to both your questions are in fact related. The water... will not harm you directly as a venom does, if that is your inquiry, but it is related to what I am.”
The... entity, as Peter figured it was better to think of it than just a cloud, stayed silent creating a moment of tense anxiousness. “Well? And that would be how?” Winter asked.
“I am a mirror,” the entity declared, “I take and reflect back what is written in the deepest recesses of all manner of entities that pass through and make them manifest.”
“Make manifest,” Merar repeated, “And by that you mean what, exactly?”
The entity seemed to expand as two what looked like appendages formed and pointed outward. “This garden, this valley you see around you is one such manifestation.”
Merar shook his head in confusion, and Peter had to admit he wasn’t able to figure this out anymore than his brother was. “Manifestations of what?” Peter asked. “Like... what was being ‘reflected’ off of?”
“Many things,” the entity replied cryptically. “In your own case, I would reflect back a manifestation based on what you would call the heart.”
It took a moment for the words to sink into Peter’s skull before he realized what the cloud meant.
Winter, however beat him to the punch. “You mean... you mean to tell us that you grant wishes?”
“Such phrasing is crude, but not far from the truth.”
“So wait, wait,” Peter said, “You mean to tell us that someone or... something wished for this valley and you just made it snap into existence or something?”
“Indeed.”
“Is that all you do?” Angel suddenly asked, “Don’t you get bored?”
Silence hung over for a moment, before the entity started flashing into colors of blue and green; briefly Peter worried that his sister’s spontaneous question had somehow upset or miffed it, but the silence was replaced by a strange sound that Peter could only describe as laughter. “That is not a question I can say I have ever been asked before. It is most refreshing one in its own way. But no, you only see me here in one role; I posses others.”
“But why do you make wishes come true?” Angel asked insistently.
If the entity had a face Peter swore it had to be smiling at that moment. “I find it intriguing and enlightening to observe what is the deepest desire of souls. Whatever is written on the most solemn reaches of the heart, what is most dear, that is what shall be.”
“So, just to be clear here,” Peter tried to clarify, “You take whatever someone wants the absolute most and... makes it reality?”
“Correct.”
The implications that hit Peter’s mind were... staggering. Quite literally, they could have anything they wished. Even the impossible though?
Such implications weren’t lost on Angel either. “Could you take us home? Even though you don’t know where it is?”
“If that is what is desired most, than you would indeed be sent to your home,” was the reply.
Instantly Merar stepped forward. “Well what are we waiting for?” he demanded, “Let’s do this and get home!”
“You don’t have to get all Power Rangers about it, Merar,” Peter said.
“So, what’s your problem then, Peter? We can go home!”
“Yes, yes we can,” Peter agreed, “But we don’t have to just go rushing in with it.”
Merar was growing impatient with his brother, however. “To Hell with taking things slow, let’s get this over with now Peter!” He marched forward with a purpose.
Instinctively Peter moved to block his brother moving forward. “Merar, I said calm down. Whoever does this needs to be calm and relaxed, ok?”
What Peter had just said was actually insulting by a wide margin, and it didn’t take long for Merar to figure that out. “Calm, eh? Come on Peter, quit being patronizing with me, why not just say what you’re really thinking? Is there a little bit lack of trust I detect here?” he said dangerously.
Apparently even Winter caught on and put a hand on Merar’s shoulder. “Merar, just relax, we’re going to get home regardless at this point; getting all heated up about things won’t make a difference.”
Merar looked liked he wanted to argue the point more, but Winter shook her head. “Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Merar said. “Neither of you trust me to make the right choice? What the Hell do you think I’m going to do with a golden opportunity to get home? You think I wanna stay in this dump the rest of my life?”
“Merar,” Peter spat, “For the love of God, shut up already.”
It became obvious to Merar that he wasn’t going to have his way on this one, so he slumped his shoulders in defeat but still glared bitterly at Peter and Winter; he trudged off to a nearby tree and leaned against it pouting like a five year old.
Winter glared irritated at her youngest son and marched forward to the spring herself. But Peter moved to block her too.
“Peter,” she began, “Really this isn’t the time for this sort of nonsense.”
“It seems to me the completely proper time for this sort of ‘nonsense,’” Peter responded. “You heard... it,” he said, pointing at the ever swirling ever changing entity which did not interrupt the bickering that was taking place before it, “That thing’ll take whatever is the absolute deepest desire of whoever uses it and makes it reality. This isn’t some simple make a wish crap. This is way deeper than that and we can’t afford to take any chances.”
Winter folded her arms in mounting anger. “And you think that my making this choice is taking a chance?” she demanded.
Peter didn’t reply, he really didn’t want to head into this argument, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from saying everything that he felt.
“It is, however strong feelings you may have on the subject, an academic discussion of who is reflected upon,” the entity suddenly declared, returning everyone’s attention to it once again. “The one who is to do this has already been chosen by the waters.”
That comment had everyone confused, and despite the recent argument they all looked at each other strangely. Peter felt the need to ask, but then his mind suddenly put two and two together. “The waters,” he repeated the entity’s phrasing, “By that do you mean the glowing water that just drenched me a few minutes ago?”
“Indeed,” the entity responded, “The water is part of the process of reflection. It is the conduit upon which the echo must travel in order to become manifest. Without it there can be no reflection. When you came, you awakened the waters, and you have become immersed in them. And its awakening awakened me.”
The others weren’t entirely pleased with the proclamation, and Peter couldn’t help but feel a little justified in himself. “So I’m the only one that can do this?”
“Correct,” the entity pronounced.
That seemed enough for Peter, who at least tried to soothe the feelings of his mother and brother by looking at them apologetically. He didn’t want them to think he was a heartless jerk after all. Gingerly he stepped forward to the entity. “Do I have to do something special then? Or what? What’s the drill?”
“Drink.”
“That’s it?” Peter asked. “Just drink some of that water?”
“Drink,” the entity repeated.
--------------------------
Winter was, of all things, checking her appearance in a mirror. Peter had long ago stopped thinking of her as “Mother” or “Mom” and simply referred to her by her first name at this point. Sometimes she got riled by it, claiming it was disrespectful, but nowadays she seemed to grin and bear it as Peter simply kept on referring to her by it. But why she was looking in a mirror at a time like this defied all reason. However, Peter had no problem conceiving her doing such a thing even in their current circumstances.
“Why are you checking out your appearance at a time like this?” he asked with an ever so slight trace of contempt.
Looking up from her preening, Winter met Peter’s gaze with a stare that was both annoyed and tired. Surprisingly, though, it softened somewhat before she returned her attention back to the handheld mirror. “Because my hair is a mess.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Peter responded, “I said why at a time like this?”
This time she didn’t even bother to look up. “Well, Peter, sometimes it isn’t a good time to check one’s appearance, but in my experience it’s never a bad time to do so either.”
Her answer was so absurd and smacked so much of vanity that Peter just snorted and didn’t even bother to refute it. Yeah, he thought, what about when it’s right after your house has been robbed, or you’ve just been told a family member has died, or you’re suddenly stuck in a wilderness with no idea how you go there and no clue where you are or how to get back.
Truth be told, it wasn’t a terribly unpleasant place. Between two lofty hill lines about a mile apart from each other there was a valley that could probably be well described as the Garden of Eden; it was that stunning. Already they had come across the most varied and spectacular formations and waterfalls that Peter had ever conceived of, let alone seen. Even the place they were resting at at that moment was basically a football field’s length away from a waterfall that had to be as tall as a thirty story skyscraper, spanning up the rock face majestically and casting a spray that produced a magnificent rainbow arc that seemed so close that Peter could reach out and touch it. Above that in the now burnt orange sky, the clouds for some reason got in on the act too, arching against each other and spiraling into shapes that looked like someone was up there spinning cotton candy. The air too seemed... different, and invigorating too. Everything about this place made it seem like a paradise.
Except that paradise wasn’t supposed to be a prison. They had been on the road to Albuquerque when they made a wrong turn, gotten the vehicle stuck in mud, had to get out... and then suddenly they turned around and their car was just gone, finding themselves stuck here, wherever “here” was.
They had been climbing up the valley ever since they arrived, trying to get higher up so they could see a way out or to simply see if they could find out where they were, though Peter was increasingly becoming skeptical of the latter goal. Naturally, the first attempt they had tried was to climb the ridgeline of the hills that surrounded the valley, but what had lain beyond boggled their minds and had left them no closer to answers. Beyond the hills the vegetation declined sharply and a mere hundred feet beyond the terrain gave way to barren rocks as far as the eye could see. There was nothing, just rocks and some distant mountains that looked far more unwelcoming than the valley they had found themselves in. They had even tried the opposing ridgeline to what Peter figured was the west, based on the direction the sun was heading, but the mile long hike there hadn’t been worth what they saw. The west, if possible, was even more foreboding than the east, for in the distance the rocks started acquiring wicked jagged shapes that looked as though they were watching and waiting to cut up unwary travelers. Not even a Humvee or some other all terrain vehicle would have been able to cross such a rough terrain. Somewhat despairingly, they had decided to see if there was anything else here at all other than a valley and opposing wastes. Hence the trek upriver they were now undertaking.
Now, however they had run up against the mammoth waterfall that stood in front of them; scaling it up would be more an exercise in mountain climbing than hiking, and they were all thoroughly exhausted by their arduous trek as it was. Currently they were taking a break and just resting, although with the sky fading into hues of orange and magenta with the setting of the sun, Peter knew they’d have to prepare for nightfall before long.
Brushing himself off as he stretched his legs, Peter looked around to get better bearings. In so doing he couldn’t help but notice Merar by the edge of the river that pretty much defined the valley, sulking by the water’s edge. Peter rolled his eyes as such behavior pretty much defined his younger brother and was exactly what he expected from him. “Merar,” he yelled, “why don’t you quit moping and do something useful for a change?”
Merar heard his brother’s comment and got up, but merely started to pace up and down the shore of the river as he had been five minutes before. “There’s nothing to do right now,” he responded apathetically.
His comment earned a solid scowl from Peter. “Nothing to do, huh? Well do you see the sky above you?” he pointed up. “Maybe you might happen to notice that the sun’s going down and it’s going to, you know, get dark soon. In which case we’re going to need a little thing called a fire so we don’t freeze our butts off during the night.”
“But we still might find some kind of... I don’t know, some kind of civilization,” Merar pointed out.
Merar’s point was of course stupid as Hell. “Uh, Hello genius, that’s what we’ve been trying to find for the past seven or so hours,” Peter pointed out. “Unless you’ve happened to see a shack or road or something and just neglected to tell us, I really don’t think that we’re going to be finding anything remotely civilized in the next thirty or so minutes of daylight left. So that means a F-I-R-E, FIRE,” he enunciated excessively.
“It is getting late,” Winter chimed in, agreeing with Peter, “and we’re probably not going to find anyone else around here any time soon, so we really should settle ourselves in for the night.”
Satisfied, Peter turned around to head into the brush to get the wood and kindling needed to build a fire, but before he could do so Winter blocked him by extending her arm in his path. “How many times do have to tell you to stop being so negative with your brother?” she demanded.
“He’s asking for it,” he said defensively, “all he’s done this whole time is-“
Winter, however, would have none of his common sense. “You know that we’ve had this discussion before. Really Peter, you’re starting to act like you father. So just stop it now.”
Peter did as he was told, but not out of any respect. It had more to do with stopping himself before he started saying really nasty things to Winter and provoking an argument, because right now he really didn’t want to waste his time. That didn’t mean that he had to like it though. He watched her pull away and head over to Merar to talk about God knew what with him. Whatever it was, it was either some ineffectual speech to motivate him or some ridiculous attempt to cheer him up. Peter knew his mother; as long as you didn’t in any way stand up to her then she would put on a bright and chipper face and act all nice. Scowling, Peter moved off to the edge of the brush to start collecting to the fire.
About a minute later, Winter and Merar came up behind him, claiming they were off to go pick some of the berries they had seen on the way up here. “Hopefully they’ll be enough to offset not having eaten anything since breakfast,” Winter explained. “Keep an eye on Angel.”
Peter was less concerned that berries, or any food right now, would satisfy their hunger than he was about the fact that his mother and brother were the ones picking them. They were liable to pick the berries that were rotten or sour. They didn’t know how to pick ripe berries; they just weren’t the kind who could bear good fruit.
There was no sense dwelling on the problem, though. If they wanted to go off and demonstrate their incompetence, so be it; Peter would stay and do other important things like build their campfire. He started slowly, scrounging around the ground for the right kind of kindling that he needed. Gathering up an armful of the stuff, he turned around and made his way back to the edge of the clearing.
He heard a scuffling noise behind him, but saw that it was just his six year old sister, Angel, who had been keeping close to him since Winter and Merar left for the berries. She was always the quiet one, even as an infant; if you didn’t know you’d hardly even know she was around most of the time. Out of the four of them, Angel was the one that Peter was most worried for. He wasn’t sure exactly how she was taking all of this. Right now though, she was just trudging along quietly, hugging her teddy bear in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
It didn’t take many more trips to gather kindling, but he was having trouble finding the solid wood he was going to need to get the fire roaring. The sun had already dipped below the westward ridgeline and was probably already sinking below the horizon by now. The shadows of night slowly crept over the garden valley, and Angel hugged her teddy bear ever tighter. Every now and then she would hear or see something in the brush and she would snap on the flashlight and wave it around, almost as if she hoped that the light itself would force whatever it was she thought was there to go away. As Peter worked he saw what he thought were bats flying overhead; gazing around he saw a few come by the clearing that he selected to build the fire in. There weren’t too many, but he was worried about his sister’s reaction.
As he watched he saw one of the bats fly onto a bush not two feet from Angel. She of course noticed instantly but to Peter’s surprise she didn’t freak out. She was guarded in her movements, but as the bat climbed around the bush and didn’t act at all threatening slowly Angel started to let go of some of her tension. “Peter, is it going to bite me?” her weak timid voice asked.
Peter stared at the bat as it groped its way along the ins and outs of the bush, wondering that very question. “I don’t think so; he looks like he’s just looking for some bugs in there to eat.”
The answer didn’t entirely satisfy Angel, but it did serve to calm her down somewhat. Their new bat acquaintance, meanwhile, seemed content to putz around the bush eating its fill of bugs, which Peter was personally more than happy to oblige. The bat continued its crawlings, and even to Angel it looked as though it weren’t so bad. Then there was suddenly a great flurry of movement and a sizable swarm of bats swooped into the clearing, leaving Peter to instinctively duck for cover. Belatedly realizing that bats were harmless creatures, he realized that such a fact would be absolutely no concession for Angel, who was now screaming bloody murder. Peter, though not at all convinced that his sister was in any real danger, couldn’t help but jump forward to ward off what she at least was utterly convinced were evil blood sucking monsters. At the very least, they were vicious little scamps that seemed to be here for no other reason than to brutally rob her of her piece of mind, and he was going to do his best to chase them away.
The swarm didn’t last long, only ten seconds at most, though it had to have seemed like an eternity to Angel; they started flocking away in almost an instant. Before they left entirely, Angel managed to snap her flashlight on again and shone it upon her tormentors, catching the last few stragglers as they bolted into the rapidly darkening sky.
ExaMining his sister, Peter found her petrified against a nearby tree, holding the flashlight as if it were the only thing protecting her, like it was the silver bullet that could vanquish the monsters and she wasn’t going to let go of it anytime soon. Peter stooped down right next to her and hugged her; truth be told he was at a loss for what to say seeing how terrified his sister was, so he just did the best impromptu comforting he could, holding and whispering, “it’s ok, it’s ok, they’re gone now.” Peter knew that when you were younger, time seemed to move so much slower than it did when you grew up; he remembered how long the day was when his father left. Time had ground by like a turtle glued to the floor, and he winced at how long his sister must have been experiencing the uncertainties and now the terrors of this long day.
So deep was he in these thoughts that he almost didn’t notice her begin to sob. Immediately he fully embraced her, trying to rub away the fear she must have been feeling. Damn it, why couldn’t he think of something more to say than just “It’s ok, it’s ok” over and over again? He should have been able to think of at least something more than that to comfort her.
“Peter?”
Moving himself back to look her right in the eyes to console her, Peter didn’t say anything, he just indicated for her to ask him anything she wanted to with a nod of his head. It was something they were both used to; Peter had been thirteen when Angel had been born, and he had always been there for his baby sister. She was one who asked him questions all the time when she was feeling particularly chipper, so much so that that single nod was enough to tell her that her big brother Peter was there for her.
“Are the bats going to come back?”
Peter thought for a moment to find the best thing to say. “They shouldn’t. Bats are little guys, Angel; they’re probably more scared of you then you were of them.”
The look on Angel’s face showed that she was very unconvinced of that, at least in terms of intensity. But it did have the desired effect of calming her down so her face wasn’t so pale and she wasn’t as stiff as a dead fish. Peter smiled warmly at her and looked around. “See? The bats aren’t coming back. And if they do I’ll scare ‘em off, ok?”
Angel looked like she was debating whether that was enough, but with her brother’s warm smile it seemed so, so she nodded.
“Ok,” he whispered gently. “Well, then, I’ve gotta get back to building this fire.” With that he turned around to gather some more wood. Angel was right behind him, teddy bear and flashlight in hand.
As he worked, Angel kept looking around in the woods again, reacting to every perceived movement or noise that issued from the brush. “Don’t worry Angel, I’m right here in front of you.” Again he went back to scouring for more heavy pieces of wood that he was having such a beast of a time trying to find.
“Peter?” Angel’s fragile voice called out again.
“Yeah Angel?”
“... Are there monsters in these trees?”
It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Peter’s mind for some time now. He didn’t know where they were, but as crazy as it sounded he didn’t think they were on Earth anymore. He had never heard of a valley quite like this, hidden in the middle of a wasteland, anywhere in the world, and it was absurd to suggest that civilization had somehow left it undisturbed. True, he wasn’t an expert on geography, but everything he had seen today seemed to tell him they weren’t in Kansas (or New Mexico for that matter) anymore. That of course left the question of the varieties of animal life that might live... wherever here was. True, the bats seemed similar enough to those he was familiar with, but what if there were things here that were a bit more exotic and perhaps had a taste for meat?
Swallowing, Peter tried to think of something that would allay his sister’s fears. “Well, you’ve gotta remember, Angel, even if there are some weird animals out there, most animals that eat meat don’t attack other animals that they don’t know about. They’ll probably be all ‘what is that thing walking around on two legs? Better not mess with it.’” Peter personally thought his explanation was just a bit convoluted, and Angel didn’t look entirely convinced.
“So, they’re not going to eat us?”
Peter sighed after he hefted a good solid sized log. He wondered if he should just lie to her. “I don’t think so, and even if they do, I’ll scare ‘em off,” he decided, trying to sound more boisterous than he felt.
Angel fell silent for a moment. “I don’t want to get eaten...” she whispered, clutching her teddy bear tightly.
Damn it, Peter thought. He was trying to alleviate her fear, but it seemed he wasn’t making a dent. He turned around to face her. “Do you think I’m strong?” he asked, going for broke.
“...I guess.”
Peter smiled. “Well, if there’s any monster out there that wants to try and eat any of us, they have to get through me first, ok?”
His gamble seemed to pay off, and Angel seemed satisfied.
However, as before his consolations proved to be only temporary.
“Peter?”
A thread of irritation welled up in him, but Peter instantly bit down on himself; there was no way that he was going to be anything but patient and loving with his sister; she, unlike Winter and Merar, was someone who deserved such things. “What is it, Angel?” he asked gently.
“Are we ever going to get home?”
That unfortunately, was something that Peter was less certain about than anything. He sure wanted to get back home and not have to claw his way through tangled brush all day, and he would have given anything for some McDonald’s right about then. He certainly wanted Angel to get back to her life, to go to Kindergarten and learn with all the other kids and just be free to live life as a normal six year old. The thought of her having to scrounge around for food for the rest of her life in a wilderness, no matter how pleasant it might seem, was one that turned his blood to ice.
“Are things going to be the same again?”
Such a question was one Peter wouldn’t have expected from a six year old. Or rather, six years olds shouldn’t have to ask questions like that, ever. “Tell you what, Angel,” he said, setting down the log and squatting down right next to her so they were close to eye level, “A lot of things can happen in life. Some of them aren’t very pleasant. But there are always some things you can count on.”
A glimmer of hope passed her eyes. “What?” she asked anxiously.
“One of them is that no matter what happens, I’m going to look after you, ok?” he moved over to hug her. “Doesn’t matter what happens, I’m always going to be here so you don’t have to be afraid.”
“...Peter?” Angel asked after a moment.
“Yeah Angel?”
“...Thank you.”
It wasn’t an obligatory polite response, it was genuine; she was speaking from her heart. It was all that Peter could do not to well up in tears right at that moment. Sometimes kids said the darndest things. He smiled at her with a warm glow, having to wipe away a tear from his eye. “Well then,” he told her softly, “We’d better get this fire ready for when Mom and Merar get back, ok?” Angel nodded, and followed in step right behind him.
Pushing aside the brush and making their way into the clearing, he first heard and then saw both Merar and Winter come barreling forward panting like they had just finished a boot camp exercise. “Wha...What was wrong?” Winter said between heaves of breath, “We heard screaming.”
“Just a couple bats; they gave Angel a scare, but they flew away,” Peter explained.
“So, we ran all the way back up here for nothing?” Merar asked somewhat annoyed.
Peter shrugged. “You got here quicker, didn’t you? Now you can help me with this fire.”
“We don’t need a fire to eat berries,” Merar declared as he pointed to a pile of berries he had stuffed into a pocket made by bunching up the bottom of his shirt. He also pulled out a handful from his pockets.
Peter could have argued the point but decided it was pointless; the building of the fire was going to happen anyways regardless of whatever stupid crap came out of his brother’s mouth. That said he decided to see what kind of berries they had gotten, although he was somewhat cautious. Knowing his brother he had picked the ones that had stood out and were thus likely to less than appetizing. Looking over what he had brought, even the stuff he had brought in his sweaty pockets (which Peter consequently wouldn’t eat in a million years), it was obvious that Merar had gone after the weirder, more exotic looking berries, including some that didn’t look quite ripe. Against his better judgment he tasted a couple. As he suspected, Merar was, simply put, useless. His berries were hardly ripe at all and had probably been selected because they caught Merar’s eye, the fool that he was.
Grumbling a few unkind words that Merar just rolled his eyes at, Peter found that Winter had gathered some berries of her own in her purse, which she deposited in Peter’s arms as she sat down by the pile of wood to start the fire (at least someone besides himself wasn’t useless). Winter’s berries, however, didn’t look quite right either. Tasting a couple, Peter nearly spat them out. Whereas his brother’s had been under ripe, his mother’s had been way overripe. “Geez, woman,” he said, “what kind of berries were you trying to pick?”
“I tried to get the ripest ones I could get,” Winter said defensively.
You tried a little too well, Peter thought bitterly. It was entirely like her, however; she always had absurd standards in just about everything, so high that she often fell flat of her goal. What the Hell was she thinking? These weren’t any berries that any of them were familiar with, so how could they possibly presume to know which ones were the best? Obviously neither if them had thought to actually taste their own fruit.
Peter just grumbled and popped some more berries into his mouth. Horrible as they were, it was food in his belly and none of them had eaten since breakfast. He figured that little Angel must have been starving, so he knelt over and gave her the rest of the berries, as many as she wanted. She ate without any noticeable sign of disgust as she did so, then again kids could eat their own boogers and think they were delicious; Peter was just glad she was filling her belly as he knew that if they didn’t find a way back home food could become a problem.
Meanwhile Winter was crouched down, hunkered over the would be fire rubbing like mad trying to get something to start. It was painfully obvious that she wasn’t applying at all enough kindling in the spot where she was trying to start the flame. It wasn’t a terribly big issue at the moment though, as they still didn’t have enough big wood to really sustain a fire. Moving off into the brush again, in the corner of his eye he saw Merar squirm uncomfortably as he pulled something out of the back of his pants. Peter’s first crude thought was that it was bong or something, but that’s not what it turned out to be.
“Where did you get that from?” Peter asked incredulously, pointing at the crowbar that his brother now held.
“From the car, I figured we might need it for something.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me, you retard, I could have used that earlier!” Peter exclaimed. How on Earth had his brother managed to walk around this whole time with that stuck down his pants? But Peter was more concerned with that fact that it was here at all. With a crowbar he could have brought down at least some smaller trees and brush and made his job so much easier. Walking over he snatched the crowbar from his incompetent sibling and headed off to get more wood.
Marching back ten minutes later with a sizable amount of timber, Peter saw that Winter was still unable to get a fire going. “Am I the one who has to do everything around here?” he complained aloud.
Snapping around, Winter glared knives at him. “Peter, unless you have something constructive to say, just shut up, please.”
“I’ve got something better than that,” he replied, “How about I do something constructive, like make a fire that actually starts.” Pushing her aside, Peter got to work applying a proper amount of kindling so that when a spark finally came there would be something to actually catch and hold a flame this time. Within five minutes he had it, and the wood pile became a campfire in a matter of moments.
“See?” he leered, “That’s how you’re supposed to build a fire.”
“You can step off the stage, your highness,” Merar sneered back, “You don’t have to act so snobby and high and mighty about it.”
“Well maybe you could learn to actually be useful so that I wouldn’t have to take the glory for everything,” Peter countered.
“Peter!” Winter shouted, “For the love of God, stop being such a-“
Winter stopped suddenly as all four of them heard a loud distinctive rustling of the brush not ten feet behind them. Peter eyed the spot suspiciously but didn’t see anything, but he and it seemed the others too had definitely heard something move nearby. “Shh,” he whispered, straining his ears to catch another sound of their visitor.
Then all Hell broke loose. The woods exploded as a multitude of shapes burst forward and came straight at the group. Angel and Merar screamed and they all instinctively ducked down as two of them came down it what distinctively looked like a predatory swoop, ripping through his shirt and casting a deep claw mark on Peter’s back. Screaming in pain and fury, he snapped his head back to get a look at the creatures.
All in all he guessed that there were probably about six of them in total. They... Peter wasn’t sure what they were. They looked almost like big furry frogs with wings and razor sharp claws. More of their fellows came down for another pass; Peter snatched up the crowbar and swung wildly. Predictably he missed, but it did cause their assailants to swerve wildly in turn to avoid him. Angel’s flashlight shone forth again, swirling about like mad in her desperate attempt to drive away the monsters.
Another pair swooped down and raked Merar on the left arm, and it looked like they got Winter too. Peter ran over to try and cover Angel who was screaming and cowering underneath Winter who was acting as more or less a human shield. Merar screamed in pain but seemed to be trying to hit any of the little devils as they flew past but looked like he wasn’t trying particularly hard. Peter, however, was out for blood and made a hit on one of them that sent it spiraling away into the brush. He clipped another less than five seconds later, but his resistance and posture only seemed instead draw them all to him. The whole lot swooped down nonstop trying to cut him up and gouge out his eyeballs, but he kept swinging even as he kept getting sliced, adrenaline pushing him over the bounds of insanity. He let loose a primal scream and charged them, intent on crushing every single bone in their bodies.
Peter’s berserking seemed though to be paying off. The devils seemed to grow more guarded and less ambitious in their attacks and when Peter clubbed one and from the sound of it broke its leg, they suddenly broke off and retreated into the brush. The wounded one was not far behind its companions; even with its wounded leg it frantically clawed the ground and hovered pathetically with its wings until it disappeared from the clearing. Angel kept the flashlight on them as they retreated, shaking the beam ferociously.
From the sound of things, there didn’t appear to be anymore of the creatures nearby, and the valley again became quiet except for the sounds of the night and the ever present rush of the waterfall nearby. Only then did Peter realize how much he had been cut, and as the adrenaline wore off the pain came kicking and screaming. Each breath became heavy and each step became a marathon in itself as he staggered back to the others and plopped himself next to the fire heaving for breath, the crowbar dropping beside him. The only thing he noticed was Angel still had her flashlight on, keeping guard over the clearing.
They all checked each other out and assessed the damage. Peter had gotten what looked like six different wounds from the little beasts; Merar had gotten attacked three times and Winter two. Angel, miraculously, hadn’t a scrape on her body; the others had taken the brunt of the damage.
Merar headed over to the river nearby to collect some water in a plastic bag Winter had in her purse that she had kept some headache pills in; as they were pain relief pills there wasn’t a better time than the present to take them. Peter received the most with his numerous cuts and gashes. Merar hurried to the river and even though it was less than a hundred yards away, he carried the crowbar just to be on the safe side. He hurried back as fast as he could and Winter used the water to help clean the wounds on all of them, which necessitated that Merar take a couple more trips.
The two of them were quite subdued from that point on, and were mostly intent on getting the wounds cleaned up and staying alert of any more creatures. Peter was still somewhat winded from the encounter and was still catching his breath and bearings. Angel was traumatized, stunned silent, and was curled in a fetal position on the dirt. Winter picked her up and held her beside her, whispering comforting words into her ear. Even as he was, Peter wanted to shake his head. His mother just wasn’t the type who could make much headway on that front.
By this point the sky was totally dark, but miraculously the fire Peter had started before the attack had kept going and was now a respectable campfire that was burning strong, illuminating the clearing and keeping it warm and reasonably comfortable. In addition, Angel still had her flashlight on; she had resisted all of Winter’s urges to turn it off.
Nevertheless, as time wore on the fire started to greatly die down and was in need of more fuel. Peter still ached but he felt well enough to get up and try and scrounge up at least some more wood. Standing up was an exercise in pain as his body protested, but he sucked it up and ignored it as best he could; besides, he couldn’t get to sleep anyway and needed to occupy himself. No one protested as he made his way to get more wood.
In his weakened state Peter mostly trudged along and glanced around for random pieces of wood that caught his eye. He wasn’t terribly worried about getting lost; all he had to be able to do was to see the campfire, so as long as he was close enough to see that, he felt comfortable wandering around. Meandering around somewhat aimlessly, he looked around for a good fifteen minutes before he saw it.
At first he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him. He stared and focused for a moment, trying to clear his mind, but it wasn’t going away; something was glowing up ahead. Peter cursed himself for forgetting to bring the crowbar, this garden was proving to be more and more alien by the minute, and he wasn’t sure if this time would be dangerous or not. Cautiously, he stepped forward though, unable to control his curiosity.
The source of the phosphorescence turned out to be a spring of some sort, about the size of a mudhole, the water bubbling up from underneath glowing a deep violet. Peter instantly thought about radioactivity; anything radioactive enough to glow like this stuff was doing had to be able to cause cancer with a single drop. Then again, this whole garden seemed almost to be otherworldly, so perhaps there could be another reason why it was glowing purple? Unable to figure out if it was one or the other, Peter inched forward. He didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, but then again you weren’t actually supposed to feel radiation until it had already royally screwed up your body from the inside.
Experimentally he grabbed a stick that he poked in the water. Peter’s rational side asked just how he expected to learn anything about the spring’s radioactivity with a stick, but he did it anyway, stirring up the water as he did so. He wasn’t quite prepared, though, when the spring spontaneously flash boiled and exploded outward, spraying the luminescent water all over Peter and everything within twenty feet.
His first thought upon regaining his bearing was why he wasn’t seared to the bone. If that had been a flash boil then shouldn’t the water have been at or near boiling? Eying himself he found that his skin wasn’t burned in the slightest, he was just soaking wet, head to toe. Belatedly he realized that that could be a problem in and of itself; he was liable to get very cold as the night wore on and he could get hypothermia if he wasn’t careful. He was more worried about what exactly had been making the water glow purple; if it was indeed radioactivity, it was now all over him and soaking into his skin. Sure enough looking closely he could see the water on him not only shimmering in the moonlight but was glowing as well. Well, that’s just peachy.
Suddenly the air above the spring started glowing itself. At first Peter feared that whatever it was that was making the water glow had gotten into his brain and was now screwing with everything, but as he watched the glow seemed to glow brighter and actually looked like it was starting to swirl. Then there was a great crash like thunder and the glowing air coalesced quickly into a cloud formation right in front of him.
The noise must have attracted the others, for at that moment Winter, Merar, and Angel all came running, Merar with the crowbar and Angel using her flashlight to navigate the dark woods. They saw Peter sitting on the ground all wet and... glowing, but they didn’t miss the giant glowing whatever-it-was swirling about above them. Its swirling candescence was hypnotizing in its own way.
“And who would this be?” a soft voice mysteriously echoed.
Peter knew where it had come from, but he didn’t quite believe it at first. He could have looked around, but his gut told him that the swirling cloud had just said something. The only thing he checked was to see if the others had heard it and he just wasn’t hearing things. They were looking around, though, and it was plain to see that they’d heard it too.
“Holy crap,” Merar said amazed.
“What are you?” Angel asked in that manner only a six year old can.
The swirling cloud twisted and became almost a vortex of sorts, twisting itself into funnel. “I am one who is familiar with this place, and know that you are from elsewhere. So I may ask who you are just as well as you may ask me.”
If Peter didn’t know any better he’d classify that as a wiseass comment, but thought better of it. What the... cloud thing asked really wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Peter stopped for a moment to consider again the absurdity of a cloud asking anything, but right now he was willing to bear surprises as this all seemed a little too real to be a dream.
“We, uh,” Peter began, “We got lost. Ended up taking a wrong road, and then found it was gone; both in front of us and behind us.” Belatedly he realized he was babbling like an idiot trying to explain (to a cloud!) their situation. “But, uh, yeah, basically, we were someplace... else...”
“Look,” Winter interrupted, cutting short Peter’s rambling, “You just couldn’t, well, tell us which way to get back to Albuquerque, could you?”
Peter shook his head at the absurdity of his mother’s question. “Winter,” he said exasperatedly, “You really think this... whatever, in the middle of a garden in the middle of a place that can’t possibly exist on Earth knows where Albuquerque is?”
“I must confess,” the voiced echoed again, “I am unfamiliar with this ‘Albuquerque’ that you speak of.”
Peter shot his mother a told you so look which she glared back knives.
“Though it is quite apparent that you are lost with no... physical way of returning to your place of origin.”
“Well, that’s really great to hear,” Merar muttered. Peter rolled his eyes, although his brother didn’t hit far from the truth. No physical way of returning home sounded a lot like a dead end.
“Ok, ok, then,” Peter held his hands up, “we’ve started on all this but we’ve still got one question; just... what are you? Are you some sort of, I don’t know, some sort of guardian spirit or whatnot?” He then remembered something else. “And... that water, it wasn’t radio...” he paused, realizing that the cloud might not be familiar with that word either. “It wasn’t poisonous or anything, was it?”
The cloud shifted again, and looked like a pulsing wave that moved back and forth above the spring. “The answers to both your questions are in fact related. The water... will not harm you directly as a venom does, if that is your inquiry, but it is related to what I am.”
The... entity, as Peter figured it was better to think of it than just a cloud, stayed silent creating a moment of tense anxiousness. “Well? And that would be how?” Winter asked.
“I am a mirror,” the entity declared, “I take and reflect back what is written in the deepest recesses of all manner of entities that pass through and make them manifest.”
“Make manifest,” Merar repeated, “And by that you mean what, exactly?”
The entity seemed to expand as two what looked like appendages formed and pointed outward. “This garden, this valley you see around you is one such manifestation.”
Merar shook his head in confusion, and Peter had to admit he wasn’t able to figure this out anymore than his brother was. “Manifestations of what?” Peter asked. “Like... what was being ‘reflected’ off of?”
“Many things,” the entity replied cryptically. “In your own case, I would reflect back a manifestation based on what you would call the heart.”
It took a moment for the words to sink into Peter’s skull before he realized what the cloud meant.
Winter, however beat him to the punch. “You mean... you mean to tell us that you grant wishes?”
“Such phrasing is crude, but not far from the truth.”
“So wait, wait,” Peter said, “You mean to tell us that someone or... something wished for this valley and you just made it snap into existence or something?”
“Indeed.”
“Is that all you do?” Angel suddenly asked, “Don’t you get bored?”
Silence hung over for a moment, before the entity started flashing into colors of blue and green; briefly Peter worried that his sister’s spontaneous question had somehow upset or miffed it, but the silence was replaced by a strange sound that Peter could only describe as laughter. “That is not a question I can say I have ever been asked before. It is most refreshing one in its own way. But no, you only see me here in one role; I posses others.”
“But why do you make wishes come true?” Angel asked insistently.
If the entity had a face Peter swore it had to be smiling at that moment. “I find it intriguing and enlightening to observe what is the deepest desire of souls. Whatever is written on the most solemn reaches of the heart, what is most dear, that is what shall be.”
“So, just to be clear here,” Peter tried to clarify, “You take whatever someone wants the absolute most and... makes it reality?”
“Correct.”
The implications that hit Peter’s mind were... staggering. Quite literally, they could have anything they wished. Even the impossible though?
Such implications weren’t lost on Angel either. “Could you take us home? Even though you don’t know where it is?”
“If that is what is desired most, than you would indeed be sent to your home,” was the reply.
Instantly Merar stepped forward. “Well what are we waiting for?” he demanded, “Let’s do this and get home!”
“You don’t have to get all Power Rangers about it, Merar,” Peter said.
“So, what’s your problem then, Peter? We can go home!”
“Yes, yes we can,” Peter agreed, “But we don’t have to just go rushing in with it.”
Merar was growing impatient with his brother, however. “To Hell with taking things slow, let’s get this over with now Peter!” He marched forward with a purpose.
Instinctively Peter moved to block his brother moving forward. “Merar, I said calm down. Whoever does this needs to be calm and relaxed, ok?”
What Peter had just said was actually insulting by a wide margin, and it didn’t take long for Merar to figure that out. “Calm, eh? Come on Peter, quit being patronizing with me, why not just say what you’re really thinking? Is there a little bit lack of trust I detect here?” he said dangerously.
Apparently even Winter caught on and put a hand on Merar’s shoulder. “Merar, just relax, we’re going to get home regardless at this point; getting all heated up about things won’t make a difference.”
Merar looked liked he wanted to argue the point more, but Winter shook her head. “Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Merar said. “Neither of you trust me to make the right choice? What the Hell do you think I’m going to do with a golden opportunity to get home? You think I wanna stay in this dump the rest of my life?”
“Merar,” Peter spat, “For the love of God, shut up already.”
It became obvious to Merar that he wasn’t going to have his way on this one, so he slumped his shoulders in defeat but still glared bitterly at Peter and Winter; he trudged off to a nearby tree and leaned against it pouting like a five year old.
Winter glared irritated at her youngest son and marched forward to the spring herself. But Peter moved to block her too.
“Peter,” she began, “Really this isn’t the time for this sort of nonsense.”
“It seems to me the completely proper time for this sort of ‘nonsense,’” Peter responded. “You heard... it,” he said, pointing at the ever swirling ever changing entity which did not interrupt the bickering that was taking place before it, “That thing’ll take whatever is the absolute deepest desire of whoever uses it and makes it reality. This isn’t some simple make a wish crap. This is way deeper than that and we can’t afford to take any chances.”
Winter folded her arms in mounting anger. “And you think that my making this choice is taking a chance?” she demanded.
Peter didn’t reply, he really didn’t want to head into this argument, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from saying everything that he felt.
“It is, however strong feelings you may have on the subject, an academic discussion of who is reflected upon,” the entity suddenly declared, returning everyone’s attention to it once again. “The one who is to do this has already been chosen by the waters.”
That comment had everyone confused, and despite the recent argument they all looked at each other strangely. Peter felt the need to ask, but then his mind suddenly put two and two together. “The waters,” he repeated the entity’s phrasing, “By that do you mean the glowing water that just drenched me a few minutes ago?”
“Indeed,” the entity responded, “The water is part of the process of reflection. It is the conduit upon which the echo must travel in order to become manifest. Without it there can be no reflection. When you came, you awakened the waters, and you have become immersed in them. And its awakening awakened me.”
The others weren’t entirely pleased with the proclamation, and Peter couldn’t help but feel a little justified in himself. “So I’m the only one that can do this?”
“Correct,” the entity pronounced.
That seemed enough for Peter, who at least tried to soothe the feelings of his mother and brother by looking at them apologetically. He didn’t want them to think he was a heartless jerk after all. Gingerly he stepped forward to the entity. “Do I have to do something special then? Or what? What’s the drill?”
“Drink.”
“That’s it?” Peter asked. “Just drink some of that water?”
“Drink,” the entity repeated.