All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (29 page)

The city assaulted Kole’s eyes. Even from this distance it was plain to see that it was a squalid, dust-covered compound of stone huts, crammed together with narrow streets slithering and fanged with evil malice. The scorched plain that the city of Enoch festered upon seemed devoid of life, a callused palm with a pus-filled blister. The soil was baked hard and cracked by a demanding sun, and what few trees there were twisted and limped up out of its broken surface, gnarled and hunched into submission.

A muddy rivulet of water sludged thickly from the city, oozing beneath a partially-finished wall to dwindle and dry up a stone’s throw into the desert. For a desert it was. Perhaps once there had been life here, verdant pasturage and lush greenery. But whatever the sons of Cain were doing to raise up this city of theirs, they were not tasking themselves with maintaining the landscape.

A slate gray sky pressed down upon the plain like a stone lid on a stone pot. Fierce, black birds circled high overhead like prophets of death, their faint shrieks ominous on the still air. The day was hot, soup kettle hot; a slow boiling miasma of feral stew. Shifting waves of heat shimmered over the bleak terrain causing it to seethe with its own internal agony.

This place is the other side of the grave,
thought Kole,
a place where the dead have come to torment themselves.
He could not bear to think of Kesitah living in such a place.
The sooner this is over with the better.

The morning had dawned slowly like a faint blush on the cheeks of a shy girl. It had been three mornings since his confrontation with Irad in the Valley of Pride. Kole had intended to come immediately to this place, to win Kesitah back by whatever means necessary and to put an end to the contention that had been born within the family, but the world had been uncooperative.

On that first day, the hunters had made it back to the camp by early afternoon, thanks to the two wagons that Jorel had left hidden from the herd on the other side of the hill. It seemed as if the entire family was out in the common area to greet them when they returned, each side bursting with news. Everyone began talking at once, and it was several moments of hugging and hollering before Kole finally spotted Adam and Eve standing quietly under the boughs of a giant fir tree, holding hands and smiling at their family’s exuberance. Kole strode over to them.

“Greetings, my son,” said Adam. “You have made good time. And what a successful hunt. We shall have a fine feast this evening.”

“Yes, Father. Mother, I am glad to see you looking well. There was some concern.”

“Yes, your father startled everyone here this morning when he burst into the camp like a hungry dragon, roaring to see me.”

“You are okay then?” asked Kole.

“I am as fit as ever, my son. Your concern for my well being is most welcome though.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Adam sighed. “It seemed there was some mistake. Your mother was never wounded or taken ill. The news of her injury was bad. I mean, incorrect, unreliable. The information was faulty.”

“Yes, Father, we assumed as much,” said Kole. When his father raised an eyebrow, Kole continued. “We were set upon by men from Cain’s city. They were intent on doing us evil.”

“They were intent on more than that, Father,” said Jorel, making his way over to the trees with a handful of the other hunters. “Those wicked, vile, city serpents wanted a fight. If it hadn’t been for Kole here they would have taken all three hrak. They had us surrounded and outnumbered. They had their spears in our guts and their noses in our faces. I admit, I almost welcomed the chance to knock a stone or two out from under Irad…”

“But you have all the meat?”

“We do.”

“And no one was hurt?”

“No one.”

“Praise the Creator,” said Eve.

“How is this so then?” asked Adam. Everyone started talking at once.

“Kole picked up a hrak,” someone said.

“Picked up the whole animal all by himself,” shouted someone else.

“It was the lions,” said Jorel.

“He put a curse on them,” said another voice.

“Remember when he was walking and they couldn’t catch up to him no matter how fast they ran?” someone recalled, his voice resounding with awe.

“Irad threatened to kill all of us, and Kole told him he didn’t have the guts.”

“Hold on, hold on,” said Adam, “I am completely confused. First things first, you hunters go and wash yourselves. Those who stayed behind in the camp will tend to the meat. We will make a meal and celebrate our good hunt and Eve’s health. Then I will hear this story from the beginning and perhaps make better sense of it.”

“Yes, Father.”

So a bit later, little by little, as the story unfolded, Adam’s eyes grew round with incredulity, as did everyone’s who had not been on the hunt that morning. Kole was the talk of the campfire, from his bold audacity to his incredible strength, from his calm demeanor in the face of adversity to his blistering predictions.

“It seems your stay in the garden has changed you somewhat,” said Adam, looking at his eldest son.

“So it would seem,” Kole replied quietly.

Adam chewed on his thumbnail, a habit he had acquired when deep in thought.

“What do we make of all this, Kole?” he finally asked.

Kole did not reply immediately. He was modest about the part he had played in the afternoon’s incident but fervently convinced of what he needed to do about it now.

“I must go to the City of Enoch, Father. I must speak with Cain. This contention cannot be allowed to take root and blossom into a harvest of hatred. If I act quickly, perhaps we can prune the bad branches, and the family tree will flourish with unity and the fruit of the Spirit once more.”

“I agree, Son. And your words, as you have spoken them, are a language to which Cain can relate. Hopefully in a positive manner. He has always taken pride in his skills of husbandry, and he will relate to analogies of plants and people. Perhaps it will get through to him. Perhaps it will be enough.”

“I will accompany him on this task, Father, with your permission,” interjected Jorel.

“As will I,” said a chorus of other voices.

“I will go alone,” said Kole firmly, looking around him at the faces of his family, startled to see their looks of disappointment. He realized then that even in the short time he had known them, just a handful of days really, they had grown to love him as a brother and respect him as a leader of men. They wanted to support him by volunteering to place themselves in harm’s way. Maybe some of them were itching for a fight. Maybe some of them just wanted to see what Kole would do next. But some of them thought that there was more safety in numbers and wanted him safe, even if it meant risking their own safety. Kole was touched, and his eyes glistened in the firelight with unshed tears of gratitude and humility.

“I am honored that so many of you wish to accompany me,” said Kole. “I value your companionship as I would food after a three-day fast. But I will not be without aid. The Creator has assured me he will be my guide and never leave my side. This is something I must do alone, for only alone will there be any outcome of success. Strength in numbers is weakness in God’s sight. I must trust in Him, and all will be well.”

“So be it,” said Adam. “We will wait for you here then, Kole. We will wait for the Lord’s will.”

The next morning dawn woke hungry and swallowed them whole. Before Kole had a chance to gather any supplies and set off for the city, the wind roared like a bloody, ragged beast. It tore clothes from the drying lines and hurled dangerous showers of sparks from the banked fire pits, igniting the dry grasses that covered the hill homes. Men and women poured out of their doors with eyes aglow from the carnage and leaped from burn to burn with blankets, shovels, buckets of water, anything that might put out the flames threatening to consume them.

The day devoured them with dust from the bald patches, smoke from the burning bushes, and ash from the charred grasses. The sun rose gassy and angered, like a malevolent boil, flinging heat and fierce rage down upon them as if its personal vendetta against humanity had been held in check and was long overdue. Small whirlwinds twisted the air into a choking brown hash, causing the children to fall and the men to stumble.

Kole pulled one young girl back sharply just as she was about to tumble into the glowing coals of the previous night’s cookfire. People raced around trying to help, but the air was heavy and turbid with stinging soot, and visibility was nil. People were shouting, calling out names, hoping to hear an answer. Children were crying, lost from their mothers amidst the confusing muddle and ossified breath of the world. The ground shook. The sky darkened even further as if the sun had given up and returned home to its bed.

Kole thought he heard Adam yelling, but he couldn’t make out his words. A little boy, strangely subdued, bumped into Kole’s legs, and Kole picked him up and carried him. Something small and sharp flew out of the darkness and hit Kole just above his left eye. He felt the warm finger of blood trickle down into his lashes. He covered the boy’s head with his free arm and ran toward the sound of Adam’s voice. A jolt of pain across his right shin, and he was thrown forward, his momentum carrying him and the child over the top of the water trough that he had crashed into. Kole turned in mid-air to protect the boy and landed gracelessly atop sharp tools lying forgotten in the furious confusion. He flinched in pain as he felt the top layer of his skin scraped off his shoulder blades.

As he lay there trying to catch his breath, he heard the little boy praying softly into the side of his neck. “God, please make it stop. God, please make it stop, God.”

Kole felt ashamed of himself and humbled to realize that he had not yet thought to pray, to ask God to make it stop. His instinct had propelled him to react in a very shallow, human way. When he should have been reaching out to God with faith, he had reached inward for fortitude. When he should have relied on God’s grace, he had gambled on his own gumption.

Tears managed to squeeze their way out of his ash-caked eyes and roll down his cheeks, leaving game trails upon the wilderness of his countenance. And then he felt it, an easing in the air, a cooling breeze from the east chasing the northern winds away. The sky cleared, the day returned. Mothers found their children, husbands found their wives. The child in Kole’s arms kissed his rough cheek and bounded away after his family.

Kole stood and began to clean up some of the mess around him in a daze. The only human sounds were the reassurances to children from the lips of unsure adults and the painful moaning of the wounded. The sky turned a brilliant blue, and the dust storm fully and truly passed on.

“I have never seen anything like that,” said Lamesh as he passed by.

“Nor have I,” said Kole.

The remainder of the day was spent tending to the wounded (there were not many and nothing serious), cleaning up the camp, and cooking food. Adam got the family organized, and it did not take long to locate missing items and repair broken ones. Huts were re-grassed and clothes rehung. Nothing was seriously damaged, and by late afternoon all was back in order.