Chapter Seven

Journeying within the night wasn’t the ideal playing field. They followed the path as closely as they could, making significant use of what the gleaming moonlight lent itself to, and being leery of what remained obscured. Rooven carried the water-jug and many of the other supplies, while Katalene had herself readied with a stick, set to attack anything that came before them. Every rustle is the bushes, every cracking twig or howling animal, only added to their bubbling paranoia, forcing it closer and closer to the surface.

They did their best to keep calm, exchanging pleasantries and humorous jests at each-others expense. “Oh no, what was that? I think I heard a snake!?” And things of that nature were common, more often on Roo’s side of the conversation than Katalene’s.

Rooven being by Katalene’s side made the journey a little bit easier for her, if for nothing else, then because it provided her with guidance, him having already made the journey before with Dad.

“You know you likely scared the wits out of Old Man Frank.” Kat said, looking back at Roo while she dragged the wooden stick through the dirt-path behind her.

“You loved it,” Roo commented. “And it’ll give something for Frank to complain about for years to come.”

“How long did it take you and Dad to make it to Jerleak?” Kat asked, with them having only walked a few short hours, her legs still began to ache some.

“From morning til dark time, we arrived at Jerleak before night’s end, but that was in a carriage with horses doing most the work, who knows how long it’ll take on foot.”

They did their best to stay on the path, a clear one that led from Wilson to Jerleak. In the night, they went to another small village in Tuncid, not much different at all from Wilson, albeit, with apple orchards, banana orchards, and various other fruits, much outweighing their fields of corn. Each village had a specialty, it seemed.

Plucking some fruit off the ground around the trees, Katalene and Rooven replenished their energies and carried fourth. The sun was starting to come out, which was much to both of their pleasure.

“Mother and Father are likely worried sick about us,” Rooven acknowledged, carrying a certain level of guilt in his tone, they had since swapped duties, and now, it was Katalene carrying the bulk of the supplies, while Rooven twirled around the stick.

“Serves them right though, doesn’t it? Father attacked you, and for what, standing against him, defending me? Mother just sat there and watched,” Katalene fired back.

“He hardly attacked me, didn’t even leave a bruise, and that alone is little compared to what’s in store for us when we return.”

Rooven was right. Father Ark would be infuriated when they came back, what awaited them was him madder than they’d ever seen him before.

“We best make these moments worth it then, aye?” Katalene said, and like that, she ventured off from the path, walking through the tall grass where all the trees were in high abundance.

“Where are you heading off to?” Rooven whined, following her anyways.

They traveled through the tall grass for a times until, at last, they found what had caught Katalene’s attention in the first place. A small creek that expanded larger and larger, until down-sloping, becoming a water-fall that led to a much larger pond.

Katalene found herself taken by its simple beauty, the way the water followed the current, the constant swishing sound as the water plunged itself down to the bottom. The phenomenon of how the water never seemed to run out or end.

She saw the creek eventually led back toward the path, they’d likely have come to a bridge crossing it if she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

The water wasn’t clean. It wasn’t crystal clear by any and she couldn’t see the bottom beneath it. The creek was filthy and brown, and gave off the faint scent of mud. Small bushes had grown around the creek, and before the waterfall, trees curved overhead like an arch. The sun seemed to peek in through the leaves and the branches for a beautiful aesthetic.

“What are you,” was about as far as Rooven got before Katalene somersaulted into the creek.

With a small splash, Katalene felt the water swallow her body whole, but upon inspection, discovered the water to be quite shallow. She adjusted herself, sitting up, her body sinking deeper into the mud.

“Are you satisfied?” Roo asked, taken by his sister’s spontaneity, “You know you haven’t the littlest idea how to swim, right? What if the water had been deeper?”

“I knew it wasn’t deep!” Katalene exclaimed, smacking her hands into the creek with a happy expression. She climbed to her feet, feeling of mud between her toes and the cool water on her, the water came about halfway up her waist.

“How!?” Roo yelled out, laughing a little at his sister’s overzealous displays.

“Alright,” Kat said, calmly, relaxing her limbs, looking up at Roo seriously, “I didn’t really know. Please join me!” She yelled, before doing a small swan-dive back underneath the waters.

“Your clothes are ruined, you realize that? You intend to walk the rest of the way to Jerleak, soaked with mud and dirty water?”

“It’s worth it, brother! Come and intend with me!”

Rooven smiled, removing his shirt and tossing it off into the grass. He showed his discontent by shaking his head in a disagreeing manner, but once more, found himself obliging to Katalane’s request anyways. In a balled-up contortion, he dove into the creek as well, his eyes tightly shut while he sank beneath the surface. In a few seconds, he leaped out from the water, pouncing on his sister like a lion on a gazelle. Katalene feigned being afraid, hollering and the like, attempting to put her brother in the headlock. Roo was quick to react, however, squirming out from the maneuver and diving back under. She watched his head bob until coming back up to spit out a stream of water.

Kat flinched, covering her eyes in disgust, “You know how filthy that water is!?”

Roo grinned, taking pleasure and satisfaction in his sister’s torment.

The current was weak, but Kat could feel it pulling at them, and, for that moment, she didn’t fight it, but instead, swam with it. She swam closer and closer toward the water-fall, until, at last, grabbing onto some low-hanging tree branches, holding onto them and allowing herself to dangle, her legs trying to depart downward.

The waterfall was only about six feet down, if that, and once she realized as much, she found her footing once again and planted her toes into the mud. When she felt assured of her next move, she swam some distance away, closer to her brother, and then, made a turn, swimming fully toward the current.

She shot forward off the edge with momentum, then, as the current decided to have its say, was brought down swiftly. The fact didn’t scare her, rather, she screamed out of joy all the way to the bottom, coming down with a loud splash. The water was much deeper here, however, she found herself able to tread water. Kat swam about without much grace, feeling the sun’s rays that were once obscured by trees, shine down over her.

The happiness she felt was purer than any she could ever recall. Freedom, of some sort or another, away from Wilson and all the sacrifices that came with it. All it took was muddy water that smelled like a rotten egg to make her realize it. An egg so rotten the remains inside the shell had been reduced to just a rubbery, almost dry remnant of yolk, that was what gave her happiness.

Birds were loud, their whistling and singing in high abundance, and with the sun arising, it was clear morning had come. Often Wilson’s morning was ushered in by the sound of a roosters’ crow or busy feet stamping about and hollering voices. The songbirds would be a much-preferred melody to wake up to.

She swam awkwardly throughout the pond, she had never been in waters so deep before. Her black hair was completely soaked and she did her best to brush it off behind the back of her head. Looking up, she saw her brother standing at the edge of the waterfall, himself cradling the tree branches in a vice-grip, keeping the current from bringing him down.

Katalene waved at her brother, a big grin on her face, exposing her buck teeth. Rooven shook his head, then, smiled back, before letting go and allowing the current to pull him down the waterfall. He didn’t maneuver, simply flopped down the ledge into the water.

As Kat swam toward his direction, meaning to greet him, she was caught off-guard by his manic splashing and plaintive shouts. The water traveled overhead, and he found himself unable to change that. Roo was drowning, and as soon as Katalene realized it, she panicked as well, swimming toward him with all her might. She met him, grabbing his shoulder and flinging it over her neck. Her brother did little to make things easier on her, however, his desperate flailing never ceased, and it resulted in a club-like fist smacking her in the back of the head from time to time.

She fought the half-heart urge to leave him in the water to drown in an act of revenge and made it to the shore. She expected Roo to cling to the land like he hadn’t seen it for years and years, once he realized the situation, that is, but that didn’t happen. She fought on and shoved her brother onto land, but he wasn’t responsive.

The simple fact sent a nervous chill down her spine, and tears came soon after. The crying was of hysterics, she couldn’t bring herself to stop and didn’t even really try, she grabbed her brother by his shoulders and shook him. “Open your eyes, please, Roo, open your eyes,” she pleaded, “I promise to never drag you on any stupid journeys like this ever again!”

A moment of silence came after, she simply looked at her brother, simply trying to wrap her head around the mere idea he might be taken away from her. Then, he resuscitated, letting out gagged coughs, spitting the dirty water out from his mouth. “And, where,” Roo began, continuing to cough, “Would the fun in that be?”

Katalene hugged him, like before, with uncontrollable sadness, she felt, now, with uncontrollable joyousness, hugging him with all her might. Life in Wilson might have been mundane and ordinary, but Rooven was the silver-lining to it all. The only person, above all others, that tried to understand her, that would do anything for her. She loved him, she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone else, and the idea of losing him was a tragic thought.

She held him in her arms, their foreheads pressed together, the water of the pond dripped off their skin.

2

The water slapped down on Katalene’s back. She didn’t jolt, or flinch, likely didn’t give anything like what the perpetrator would’ve wanted. She simply laid dormant on the sands.

“Rise and shine!” A voice called out, Katalene recognized it as belonging to Shear. “I see you got free of your ropes, color me impressed,” he said, and soon after, Katalene felt the feel of a knife poking against her back, skimming down her spine. “I am proud of you, you showed strength and fight, but it’s time to be dead now.”

Sheer used the knife to cut through her leggings and used the knife to slice off her thinly clothed shirt. By her hair, he yanked her back up to her feet; naked.

Katalene offered him no support. She didn’t flail her arms in discomfort or attempt to fight back, she could barely move her limbs as it was and knew she would not be able to pose a challenge. She couldn’t walk, falling down to her knees at first. “Oh, my sweet, I’m flattered, but there will be plenty of time for that later!” Shear yelled, grabbing her by her hair again and prying her up like a turnip.

More men were with him, at least, a few, but Katalene’s eyes felt too burnt and blurred to make any of them out. Naked, wearing only the gauntlet that had found itself latched onto her like a leech, she was led by her hair toward a flat-surface on the ground.

Her eyes began to adjust, and she realized it was a sand ray, but, in an instant, she found herself jerked and detoured away from it. She limped with every step, having to fight to keep herself from losing consciousness, the only thought racing through her head was the desire to. Sheer led her toward one of the black boxes that was being pulled by a chain attached to the sand ray, she realized now even more how similar it was to a casket.

Her mind didn’t panic when the casket opened, didn’t panic when she saw what was on the inside of it. Malnourished men and women, skin and bones, as its described, all naked and unconscious, or dead, rested atop one another in a stack. Katalene felt herself thrown amongst the stack.

Their bodies felt slimy and frail, when she looked up at her captor, the man who introduced himself as Sheer, he had an unreadable expression. Everything felt brighter from her perspective, to the point where it burned, she saw everything with a bright reddened tint, like everyone before her was a demon and she was in Hell.

When the lid closed on her, however, it was nothing but blackness.

3

They arrived at Jerleak the next night, a seamless transition in-which the forest ended, and a granite walkway began. The smell was of glaring blatancy, what the smell was, however, was an odor that Katalene had never smelled prior. It smelled busy, as if so many things were conglomerated at once, but it wasn’t an unpleasant smell. As Rooven and Katalene walked among the streets, the simple fact of how busy it was surprised Kat.

“When do they sleep?” Katalene asked with a big smile on her face, spinning around while she looked about the city.

“They don’t, Dad says, always up and busy, always doing something, he says it gets annoying,” Rooven replied, not as impressed with Jerleak’s décor.

“I think it’s wonderful!” Katalene announced.

Their long since dried clothes likely smelled rancid to nearby pedestrians, but Katalene didn’t let that stop from walking closely among them. In the land of dreamers and poets, of showman and musicians, Katalene took joy in pretending to be them. To walk among them, able to pursue the same ambitions.

Men in dressy clothes and women in dresses walked with purpose, like they were so very busy and had places they needed to be. Horses brought carriages to their destinations, with many buggies offering transport for a nominal fee.

The buildings were large and decorative, each building as tall as the sky itself, or, at least, that’s what Katalene’s youthful perception led her to believe. Rock steps led up to buildings with window after window, all on top of each other, and, at spots beside the roads which the carriages roamed, were rails and walks where men and women could travel on foot, lit lanterns marked the pathway every few feet.

Jerleak was the fruits of Tuncid’s labor, like an actor getting to live the dream and play his role, Tuncid was the one that fulfilled that dream behind the scenes. The people of Wilson believed life didn’t start until it ended, but Jerleak invited their people to live in the moment, to live knowing it might be the end-all. Katalene felt tears roll down her face, she felt so infatuated and overwhelmed by the concept. “This is the way to live,” Katalene whispered.

“Father Ark says this way to live is only possible by the people who do real work for the people of Jerleak to steal off.”

“And we let them steal off us, letting them reap all the reward for all our work. In a fair world, we’d all help and all take some time to enjoy life, instead, Wilson works itself to death and Jerleak is a glutton for splendor.”

“And, so what if they want to waste all their bliss and good life now, Father says we’ll get ours for the eternity that comes after.”

“Father Ark is a fool.” Katalene commented dryly, herself not putting too much thought or emotion in the words, herself too taken by the extravagant scenery to care about much else.

All she cared about was the stupendous visuals around her, the glimmering lights from the lanterns, the sound of hooves stamping against the ground, the busy sound of voices carrying themselves about, and the small slither of hope the sums of the parts carried with it.

4

Katalene saw nothing except for blackness, heard nothing except for her loosely rhythmic breathing, it was weak, and felt nothing at all. Beneath her, the odorous bodies. She still wasn’t completely certain whether they were unconscious or dead, she assumed the latter.

When Katalene was young, she was mad at Father Ark for not believing she could hold her own. She snuck off to Jerleak, her brother joining her for the adventure, and, on the way back, they encountered a group of raccoons. Aside from some scratches and scrapes, Katalene was able to fend them off with a sharpened stick. She remembered stabbing in the flesh of them repeatedly, angered by the way they attacked her brother. As they continued, however, Rooven found himself incapacitated, made woozy by the bites and other inflictions. Leaving their supplies behind, Katalene returned home supporting her brother on one shoulder and carrying a stick with two raccoons impaled onto it. Father Ark was fuming to say the least, angry about them leaving, but when he saw Katalene, covered in blood, carrying her brother to safety, everything changed for her. She could accompany them in Jerleak and could help them in the fields. He realized, then, that Katalene could handle her own, and that any situation she got herself in, any situation she got her brother in, she could get them out of unscathed.

She realized now, more than ever, that Father Ark was a fool. She got her brother in a situation she couldn’t rescue him from, and, now, she slumbered inside a casket, naked with a mess of corpses.

A small hole on one corner of the box was the only air that entered the coffin, and through the hole, Katalene watched as the sand swooshed around them, the sand ray moving about fast. She hadn’t noticed it at first because it was at her feet, but when she adjusted, the hole itself was quite bright. Her eyes must have been damaged in the time she spent tied up in the sands, because the visual she saw made it appear as if the sand ray was skidding through a river of blood.

She rested the back of her head against the body of one of the corpses, ready to lay there and die, closing her eyes, but, then, she heard a voice: “Did you find the landmark yet? Describe it. I should be close.”

Katalene opened her eyes fast, and when they did, she opened them to the sight of Sol resting over her, wide-eyed, staring at her. She couldn’t feel his weight on her, and she realized that was because he levitated directly above her, feet to feet and nose to nose with her.

“I’ve completely lost my mind,” Katalene whispered beneath her breath, it felt like she was stating the obvious more than anything else.

“You should find that,” Sol remarked, then, added: “And the landmark.”

“Leave me to die in peace,” Katalene quietly stated, instructing her hallucination like it’d really make a difference.

“Can’t do that. Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m in a fucking box, likely about to be beaten and raped, and left in the desert.” Katalene cried out, banging her head through Sol and against the lid of the box.

“Hold on, I think you’ve been found.” Sol said, then, disappeared out from the coffin.

Katalene yearned the days when she could cry tears, before all her tears were shriveled up and forgotten. She grabbed the hand of one of the corpses, it was a peculiar act, and even in her predicament, she realized that, but she needed some comfort. The simple myth planted in her head that she might not be doomed to die alone, if only for a second.

The next sound she heard was of loud stomping, she felt the vibration of it. The sound of hollering men soon followed, screaming men, the sand ray swerved left and right for a moment, until everything came to a complete standstill.

Katalene peeked through the small hole of the box and with it, saw what all the fuss was about.

The Dragon Creature chased after the men, who were not able to make it far. Katalene watched as it made clubbing blows into their stomachs, sending them flying in the air a great distance. The Dragon was fast, making swipes with its tail at anything that looked breakable. The crates on top of the sand ray broke with a thud, the Dragon stomped on top of the sand ray, and with it came a loud screeching sound, a loud whine that sounded like a human shriek. The shriek belonged to the sand ray, an almost tragic sound that Katalene hadn’t expected.

“You’re in one of these boxes, make a loud noise, I can free you,” a voice, Sol’s, or The Dragon’s, said in Katalene’s head.

Instead, Katalene did nothing at all, her body was weak, but, more than that, she was stunned and confused. The confusion she felt lessened when she realized she very much didn’t want to die in a box with a bunch of dead bodies, and so, she let out a yell as loud as she could, which wasn’t very loud. It was a weak, gravely yell that sounded like that of a heavy smoker.

“Found you,” the voice announced, and, like that, Katalene watched on as the lid to the box was ripped off and thrown. The sight was a frightening one, the sight of a large dragon standing over her. And, while there was never much doubt, she could see now that it was the very same dragon her and her brother had encountered the day prior. “You’ve been freed.”

Katalene stared up at The Dragon in awe, herself, not fully able to wrap around the idea. She moved her hands up, touching the tops of the box’s walls, using them as support to lean herself up to a seated position. The act took effort, her body felt so weak and depleted. She looked behind her at the naked bodies, all of them a pale pinkish tint. She rubbed at her eyes, they felt hot, they burned with an intensity that she couldn’t really find a way to alleviate.

Katalene leaned herself up from the box, then, slowly, climbed out, being patient with her movements, nothing happened fast or without great exertion. She felt her toes in the sand, the feeling wasn’t a comfortable or reassuring one, though, she doubted there was anything that could comfort her now.

“What would you like to do?” The voice, the Dragon, Sol, she supposed, asked.

Katalene stood to her feet, she felt like a walking corpse, like it was more fitting to remain in the box with the rest of the dead. But, the mere sight of the Dragon brought a small jolt of life with it. The Dragon sat, carrying himself in a way that reminded her of a statue. He stood, his hands lying flat on the ground, his body looked like a gorilla without fur, only immediate striking difference was the fact that it’s head was proportionately larger. The Dragon had sharp claws as well, talons like a bird, but other-wise, its hands more resembled an ape. She walked around him, for only a peek, she saw the long black tail he carried behind him, but shortly after, the Dragon readjusted himself, positioning himself to be facing Katalene.

The Dragon had emerald eyes, the same shade of color as the one she’d seen depicted on the tomb walls. That dragon was larger though and had wings.

Her hands trembled and it took a prolonged period, but she found herself able to be pried away from the Dragon’s gaze.

The Dragon’s handiwork had been effective. The sand-ray looked massacred, with blood spilling out over the sand. She wouldn’t have expected such a small and flat creature to harbor so much blood. The men were ripped apart as well. A man Katalene didn’t recognize had been ripped cleanly in half, his legs and entrails spilled about, while his upper-half had been thrown over a dozen feet away. Some were less mangled, some had been killed quickly with the swipe of his tail. Others were missing appendages, Katalene could hear ones’ plaintive cries, still alive. The sound was music to her ears.

“What would you like to do?” The voice entered Katalene’s head again. She looked over to him, and, as he attempted to follow her, he took a step over the head of one of the men, crushing it beneath his feet, the sound wasn’t something comedic, like a splat, but like an egg being smashed that had a fully developed bird inside of it.

Katalene didn’t flinch at the visual, which acted as a presentation for how feeble God’s creations really were. She felt desensitized, be it because of her state of weakness and unrest, or her inability to sympathize with the men after what they’d done and her assumptions on what they’d planned to do.

“Did you kill them all?” Katalene found herself asking, looking in the eyes of the Dragon for a mere second, then, she stopped, feeling unease by the audacity of the act.

“Only the ones with you,” the Dragon clarified.

His lips didn’t move, she assumed “his” because the masculinity in the Dragon’s voice, but the sound went off in her head. She noticed a faint vibration tingling from her arm. Nay, not from her arm, but from the gauntlet. That was the Dragon’s connection with her. That was what made the Dragon standing beside her instead of grabbing her with its hands and tossing her as far as he could to her death.

Katalene found herself less taken by that fact and more taken by who she didn’t see among the scrap of bodies. Shear was not with them. The spokesperson of the men, she searched through the graveyard of men, again and again, Shear was absent. Anger and a feeling of being incomplete weakly overtook her mind, she wasn’t in any condition to feel things deeply, but she still knew very well she wanted Shear to join the graveyard.

“Did you see where the other men went?” Katalene asked Sol, she limped over to the only man among the flock that still had any life in him.

“Only the energy direction, noticed the smoke coming from a large campsite, didn’t pursue it. That is likely where the men were headed,” the Dragon replied in her head with his lifeless voice.

“I wouldn’t tell you anything, bitch!” The man replied, not realizing it wasn’t him she was speaking to. His voice was weak, not able to carry that hostility he so clearly yearned.

His mouth had blood trickling out, down his chin to his neck, but, other-wise, the man looked no worse for wear. His lack of movement, however, showed he was feeling the dragon’s assault. Katalene knew first-hand what Sol’s tail was capable of, and she hadn’t even been recipient for the blunt of it. He laid on his back, eyes pointed toward the Heavens. One of God’s toys was broken.

“Who are you people?” Katalene rested her foot on the man’s neck, applying the minimal amount of pressure.

“Nice tits,” the man hollered defiantly. His face carried a gnarly, rebellious snarl that expressed the amount of loyalty he had for the people he was involved with.

Katalene smiled to herself. In her stupor, she had completely forgotten her state of undress. She was fine with the approval and didn’t feel self-conscious or uncomfortable. She’d be stealing his clothes, of course, and after she finished bludgeoning him to death with a rock, she’d carry his compliments as a badge of honor. She very much looked forward to caving his skull in.

“You’ll die if you don’t help me,” Katalene said. You’ll die anyways, she thought.

“I’ll die regardless!” The man countered.

Yes, she thought. “I’ll make it quick,” she lied.

Katalene could feel herself becoming light-headed. Her burning vision was making her nauseous and disoriented. Her eyes made contact with the demon as he slept atop the fire, and he showed no fear.

“Make me suffer if you want, make it quick, whatever you want, it doesn’t matter. Heaven awaits me, no matter what you do, nothing will change that,” his absolute certainty bothered her.

“Do you really think God would welcome someone like you, a monster of a man, like you? Look at that box over there, that box of dead bodies, and you think heaven awaits you!?” She yelled it, she probably shouldn’t have yelled it, the exertion made her woozy and made her stumble a moment.

“God doesn’t care what happens to the plebeians, doesn’t care if we take the weak or retarded from this Earth, in-fact, he welcomes it. Those aren’t the creations of God, but the Devil. You’re a Devil-girl, a piece of meat to fuck and send back to Hell. He rewards us by the scoreboard!”

“But, what if you’re wrong, and what if you wasted all your life praying to a God that doesn’t exist, or doesn’t care about you? What if death is simply your expiration period, and from here on out, you’re just outdated?” Katalene asked, and it was a real question, a real question she wanted a real answer to, a question she’d ask her Father if she could, the whole of her village, and everyone else.

“That lack of faith, that is what makes you among the weak,” He hollered back.

Katalene let out a breath, and, as she did, the dizziness and unease, at last, became more than she was able to withstand. She dropped to one knee, she could feel the lights fading and knew she was about to faint at any moment.

The man seemed to catch wind of this, and made haste, exposing that he was feigning his injuries, he sprung up to his feet and readied an attack, but, at that instant, took sight that the Dragon remained close. His frightened expression is the last thing Katalene saw before dropping down into the sands.