Zonaton (18 page)

            Pausing to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder at the distant mountain range. Looking back at what lay before her, she briefly debated whether to go on, or to turn around and head for her own home.

            Her conscience bit hard. He was her Papa. Markeem was the little brother she had yet to get to know. They were all the family she had left on this planet. With Zonaton gone, who could she turn to when she needed help?

            Bowing her head, she dipped a hand inside her pants pocket and clutched the single scale that was her last link to her beautiful friend. What would Zonaton want her to do?

           
I have no one else. Zonaton, when I need you the most, you aren't here.

           
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she raced off toward the square.

Vlase

            Zonaton felt a disturbance. Slowly, he rotated around until he could sense where it was the strongest. Once he zeroed in on it, he began walking toward it.

            "Do not venture there."

            A different aura approached him. It let off a soft gray, misty glow. He did not sense anything dangerous about it, and drew closer.

            "Who are you?"

            "Vlase. Do not go where you are headed."

            "Why?"

            "It is beyond our reach. It is not our problem."

            "Not our problem?" Pausing, Zonaton took a hard look around him. At the indistinct ground beneath his feet. At the fuzzy, out-of-focus world where he now existed. A golden ball of light drifted past him, going in the opposite direction. He watched as it melted away before turning back to the gray mist.

            "First I met Borin, now you. If this is my afterlife, why are there guardians?"

            "Many of you who have reached this plateau need guidance. It is not a personal issue."

            Pointing in the direction where he was going, Zonaton started to ask another question, when a greenish light sparked. If he had not been staring at that point in space, he knew he would have missed it.

            "What is going on beyond this plateau, as you call it?"

            "It is none of our concern."

            Zonaton stared down at the gentle whiteness that should be his hand. "If this is my afterlife, why do I slumber? Why do I still eat because I am hungry?"

            "Because you are. Because you must."

            Shaking his head, Zonaton pointed again in the direction where he had seen the flash of light. "I am curious to see what caused that light."

            He sensed Vlase turned to look where he pointed. "Perhaps it is another soul coming to the afterlife," the gray form suggested.

            "Perhaps? You do not know?"

            "I know it is none of your concern, or mine."

            A pale lavender form drifted between them, and was quickly swallowed by the mist. Zonaton pointed at the spot where it had disappeared. "If this is the afterlife, why am I only seeing a few of us? This place should be crowded."

            "Think of this plane as a holding place."

            "A holding place?"

            "Until you determine where and how you want to spend your second life."

            Zonaton shook his head in confusion. "I do not understand. This is not my second life?"

            "No. We await your decision."

            "Who is we? What decision must I make?" A yellowish form appeared behind Vlase, went around the misty shape, then vanished. Zonaton motioned at where it had been. "Is he like me? Undecided? Are you waiting for him, too?"

            "He is one of many who have yet to become aware to the point where he can make his choice."

            "Become aware? That is your way of saying woke up, correct? I woke up to realize I am in a temporary holding pen until I make my decision. Am I correct?"

            Vlase said nothing, but Zonaton knew he had made the right assumption.

            "What is going on over there?" He pointed again at the place where he had seen the green light. "And if you tell me it is none of my business, I will make it my business." Another thought came to him. One that would prove astounding if it was true. "Am I still on my world?"

            The mist paused. After several long moments, Vlase answered. "Yes."

            "Behind the mountains?"

            "Yes."

            It was an area very few gerons knew about. Behind the mountains lay a deep crevasse. Zonaton remembered being taught never to go to the crevasse because it was dangerous. Because gerons who went there never came back.

            "Are we inside the crevasse?"

            "Yes."

            He moved closer to the misty form. "Are you a geron? Or are you like me?"

            Vlase retreated slightly. Zonaton couldn't tell if the form was afraid of contact, or afraid of him. Or perhaps both.

            "I chose to remain in this form, in order to help others," Vlase finally replied.

            "You...chose?" Zonaton would swear he felt his heart speed up. "You chose to remain in your misty shape?"

            "Yes."

            "And you said earlier I could choose as well?"

            "Yes."

            "Can I choose to become geron again?"

            For a second time, he sensed the form's hesitation. Finally, Vlase spoke. "A few have made that decision."

            "And they were able to go back up top, back to the world we came from, to live out their second lives?"

            "That is what they decided."

            Revelation came as a hard shock. It took him a while to process the thought before he could speak. "The Elders, they are living their second lives as gerons."

            The form refused to answer, which could only mean he was correct in his assumption. And it also explained so much. Especially the reason why, as a geron nearing the end of his first life, why he had to answer to them, when they appeared to be younger in years.

            "If I choose to go back as a geron again, will I become an Elder?"

            Again, Vlase remained mute, neither denying nor verifying his earlier remark.

            Zonaton started to say that was also his choice, when he saw another spark of green light come and go in the distance. At the same time, a face floated across his mind like a breath of wind. A face that was different from his own, but one he knew he should recognize. Unfortunately, a name refused to accompany the visage.

            "What is happening over there?" he pointed asked again.

            "It is a disturbance, but do not worry. It will not affect us down here."

            "But it is happening on the surface. How can I see something on the surface, when I am down inside the crevasse?"

            "Do not bother yourself with useless questions. Simply accept what is."

            The strangely familiar face reappeared. The face that was smudged with dirt and wet with tears. A beautiful face that brought a warmth to his thought.

            "Will the disturbance affect others?"

            "It is none of our concern."

            The face hovered before his eyes. The mouth moved, but he could not hear the words. Something tugged on his neck, and the face drew away until all he could see was a single white scale that shone in the sunlight.

            "Emmala." The word came unbidden from within himself. It brought with it a flood of longing, which centered inside his chest and slowly tightened until he could barely breathe.

            "Emmala." Saying the word again this time brought happiness with it. There was a brightness out there that hadn't been there earlier. A smile filled with sunshine. Laughing eyes.

            "Emmala." This time, when the face reappeared, it bore a loving expression that flooded him with a hunger that was nearly painful. Not a hunger borne of the need for sustenance, but of the need to hold and touch, and have that face appear before his over and over, again and again, for days on end.

            "Zonaton." Vlase's voice shattered the moment.

            "I have chosen," he told the form.

            "I am aware of that, but do you realize you will no longer have your strength or your ability to fly if that is your final decision? You will be wingless, as well as smaller in stature."

            "I will find a way to be strong. I will find my own new abilities. I will adapt. Just...let me go back to Emmala. You wished to remain here to help others. Allow me to go help her."

            "This will be your last life."

            "Then let me spend it with her."

            "This is unprecedented. You will be placing yourself at great risk, to the point where this last life could be shorter than your first."

            Zonaton fought the water rising in his eyes. Were these tears? His face felt hot, as if he was too close to a fire. Regardless, he nodded. "If it is, it will be a small price to pay to be with her. I loved her in the only way I could as a geron, but she still needs me. I must continue to protect her, but allow me to do so while also loving her in human ways. In the physical way...as a human male."

            "That is your decision?"

            "That is my command."

            He closed his eyes and concentrated on an image, on the likeness he wished to be reborn in. Vlase paused. Zonaton waited patiently, even though his eagerness to be on his way grew with every passing second.

            Vlase made a vague gesture. "Have a good life, Zonaton."

            Zonaton closed his eyes again as he mentally bade farewell to his guide. There was no feeling of anything happening. No sense of ascension or change. There was only a rush of wind, then silence. A heartbeat later, he could hear a booming noise coming from beyond.

            Opening his eyes, he could clearly see the mountains where green light flashed beyond the ridge. On the other side of those mountains was the person bearing the face he cherished in his mind. Somewhere out there was Emmala.

            A cool breeze blew over his new flesh. Chilled, he tried to wrap his arms about himself, without luck. This shape had no scales or thick hide to protect him from the elements. And come nighttime, the weather would become unbearable. If he took off running, perhaps the exercise would help keep him warm, or warm enough until he could find something to protect him. A blanket perhaps.

            He barely took in his new form as he turned toward the flashes of light. Yet, the mountains were calling to him, singing their siren song of wistfulness and longing. Why, or how, he didn't know. The mountains were telling him that Emmala should be there. That she could be waiting at the mountains, not where the green flashes of light and thunderous noise were occurring.

            Emmala could be at their cave home, waiting for him.

            Emmala
should
be there.

            Ignoring the call of the distant craggy range, he started jogging directly for the source of light. 

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Destruction

            She stumbled across the burnt body before she saw it. Falling onto her hands and knees, Emmala scrambled away from the faceless carcass and paused to catch her breath. Her heart thundered in her ears, but it couldn't drown out the cacophony of noise filling the village.

            Acrid clouds of smoke hung overhead, carrying with them an odd, fetid odor she attributed to the aliens' green fire. Tearing off a portion of her tunic top, she tied it around her face to keep herself from breathing in the possibly toxic fumes.

            Frightened figures dashed through the streets. There were fewer of them now. She assumed that most of the villagers had jumped the outer barrier, or jammed the narrow walkway to retreat to the next village. Either way, it wasn't safe to remain in this town.

            An alien craft flew overhead. She ducked and sought cover under the eaves of a nearby house. There was a scream, an inhuman scream, a scream only a geron could make. Suddenly, three of the creatures converged on the small rectangular craft, surrounding it, each of them taking a point in a triangle. As one, the gerons belched their flames and engulfed the ship. It only took a few seconds for the craft to completely incinerate into black particles.

            Green fire arched overhead, hitting one of the gerons. The creature shrieked as it fell to the ground behind a row of houses. The other two vanished, along with the ship, but the yelling and crying coming from all around her never faded.

            A few meters down the road, she spotted the center of the village. In the shadows of all the fires burning, she could see the podium, still intact. The rock podium where yesterday Zonaton had died defending her.

            More flames licked the house where she cowered. She couldn't stay here. She had to find safety.

            Another explosion raced down the next street over. Emmala took off for the center of the village as fast as she could move. Another alien craft flew nearly parallel to her, and she realized it was tracking her. Thinking back on what Zonaton had taught her, she came to a sudden stop and starting running sideways. Another stop, and she backtracked a dozen steps before making one final dash for the podium. The ship fired, missing her. The delaying tactic was all she needed. An enormous geron descended upon the ship, slamming into it from above with both feet. The ship spun crazily as it fell, landed on top of several houses, then obliterated almost the entire block, along with itself.

            She dove for the podium, hit the ground, and skinned her knees and hands. There was a open space underneath the rock structure. Although it was shallow, she would be able to fit inside the cave-like interior. Sticking her head underneath the upper portion of the platform, she was suddenly stopped by a hard tug on the straps.