Monstrum horrendum

The sky was a dark grey—battleship grey I think they called it—the clouds a dark smear on the horizon. That’s where we’re going, they told us: Over the hills and far away. I didn’t have the strength to go any farther, so my father carried me in his arms, trying to keep up with the group, but falling farther behind with each step, until we were so far behind they had to wait for us to catch them up. I was four years old at the time; it’s one of the oldest memories I have of my father. Him carrying me until he couldn’t go any farther, dying out there in the loneliness with no one but his child to mourn him. When the others found us, I was sitting at his side, crying, the small locket my mother asked me to hold for her clutched tight in my hands.

She died the week before.

They told me to keep up or they’d leave me behind; and now, fifty years later, I find myself saying the same thing as we march toward the distant horizon. Looking for something I know we’ll never find. Is it worth going on? I don’t know. It seems that every time we find a place to rest, maybe set up camp for a month or two, they find us and we have to flee again.

Who are they? I think I’ve been asking that question from the day I first learned to walk and talk. No one had an answer then, and I don’t dare seek out the answer for myself. I’ve seen others thinking they were brave enough to face whatever it is that’s chasing us, but they’ve never returned. We can’t afford to stop moving forward. We are humanity's last chance. The group is growing—one child at a time—but growing all the same. The old ones slip off into the night sometimes without being asked, or told to; they simply leave, and we never see them again. I used to wonder if they’ve gone off to find the answers to the question we all have? And then I'd wonder if they found the answer.

*

I’ve had many mates over the years, but in my heart, there's only one.

We’ve been together for what seems like forever. She’s one of my fondest memories. I’ve known her longer than I knew my own parents. We have three younglings together, the future of the Race as far as we know. We say that because there are few survivors out here, and we’re no exception. Whatever it is that happened, none of us are old enough to remember. So we march, because that’s all we know.

But today, we make our stand.

*

I sit on a lonely hill looking at the tiny locket my mother gave me. I will confess, there are times when looking at the locket stirs memories I want to forget, but lately, I’ve been trying to remember. I look up. The sky’s the same dull grey colour I’ve always remembered it to be. I used to listen to stories the older ones told about green fields and blue skies, but find it hard to believe such a time ever existed. All around me, the hills are stark. Food is scarce, but we always manage to find something. Animal life abounds, and how they've survived, I'll never understand; if there’s little for us to eat, what are they eating?

I hear footsteps and look up.

Shail, my Mate, is climbing over the rocks carrying a small bag of food. I’m grateful, and pull her close to me, watching the horizon.

“Are you sure there’s no other way?” she asks.

“Can you think of one?” I ask in return.

I didn’t think so, I want to say it, but say nothing. It’s better to say nothing when confronted with the unknown. It’s better to remain ignorant than it is to seek out the truth. Only in ignorance can you move forward. Looking back, and trying to second guess every decision you’ve ever made, will only lead to madness. The future is empty, and yours to fill in as you wish, and while you may know nothing about it, it’s the unknowing that makes it desirable. As long as you remain ignorant to what the future holds, you’re free to search it out.

I know that makes no sense, but where do you find logic in a world like this? We march because we know nothing else. We hide from an unknown, unseen, and unheard enemy. Some of the elders used to say there are monsters out there, seeking us out. They knew of some who had escaped. I never knew whether to believe the stories or not, but it explains this life we lead when we can say we’re hiding from monsters.

*

I press my mother's locket into Shail’s hand.

“What? No! You can’t expect me to take this?”

“You have to. I want you to. It’s the only thing we have from before,” I add, closing her hand around it.

“It means too much to you.”

“It’s not a talisman, or anything like that; it doesn’t do anything,” I say. “It’s just the last thing we have from Before. Sometimes, when I sit and look at it, in my mind’s eye I can see the world that used to be. I can see the green fields and flowers the old ones used to talk about. I can see the blue sky, and clouds. You’ll see it too, if you let your mind wander. When it’s time, give it to one of the children so they can carry it into the future.”

“What future?” she asks. “There’s no future out here, and certainly no future for us. If you do this, who will lead us?”

“If I don’t do this, I don’t deserve to lead.”

“That’s not true! A leader should direct someone to do this.”

“A true leader won’t send someone to do something he won’t do himself.”

“Then you’re a fool,” she says, snatching her hand away from me.

“I may be.”

*

It is three months before they find us. In that time, we’ve had three new births, and five more confirmed gestations, which is remarkable on its own considering the females of the group outnumber the males four to one. In that time, I’ve had to take three new Mates. I was excited at the news that one of the confirmed gestations was one of my new Mates.

Shaila is pleased.

I tell her it's time to leave.

*

I sit on the hill and watch the last of the tribe slip across the last of the stony crags, and disappear from view. I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind me and turn to see Shaila standing before me.

“You fool,” I say softly.

“Is it foolhardy to love one so deeply?”

“It is if it means death.”

“Then we’ll face it together.”

She comes to my side and I hold my arms up and let her slip in against me, the warmth of her a comfort against the cold. She’s still the beautiful girl I’ve known my entire life; in spite of the scars, the long, unkempt and matted hair; the worn and hardened eyes. I try to wrap myself around her in an attempt to keep her warm, but only succeed in waking up that part of me I hold for her alone.

She responds in kind.

*

“I couldn’t think of a better way to face the end of life, than with you,” she says, the nakedness of her flesh a brief reminder of the heat of our passion.

“You should have left,” I say, kissing her head.

“Why? I can’t have any children. What use am I if I can no longer serve the tribe? Our children have children. It was time for me to leave.”

“You’re not too old to have served your usefulness,” I say.

“I’m more useful here. I’m one less mouth to feed; one less straggler to wait for.”

“You were always more than that.”

“Only to you. I never took a second Mate.”

“Yet, insisted I did."

“When I could no longer bear children,” she reminds me with a broken-toothed smile.

“And now those children will never know you.”

“But they'll know you,” she says against me chest.

“How can they possibly know me?”

“I gave Marla your mother’s locket. I told her it was the last reminder of what life was. I told her what it meant to be a Family, and not a Tribe; I told her what it meant to love someone forever. I gave her the locket and told her to fix her eyes on it and let her mind take her away.”

*

There is a dust cloud on the horizon, moving across the valley below us. It's impossible to make out what it is, but I know it isn’t human. It shines in the off-coloured light of a grey day; lights pulsating and the ground trembling around it. I can feel it in the hills around us. I can see the rocks and hills surrounding it slowly crumble to dust, and when it moves on, it leaves a large swath of nothingness—an emptiness devoid of life.

It is headed directly toward us.

“Run!” I cry, and make for the craggy rocks behind us as the ground gives out and everything turns to darkness. I reach for Shaila, catch her hand and pull her toward me as we fell into an abyss of black silence.

“What is this place?” Shaila asks, looking at the sheer walls around us; I shake my head in wonder, staring at the emptiness around me.

Suddenly the ground gives out and we find ourselves plummeting through the darkness. I hold Shaila’s hand and refuse to let go as we finally hit bottom. There is a blinding light—brighter than any I have ever seen. I have to close my eyes it is so bright. As I open them, I look to see if Shaila is still alive. I thought, perhaps, that I’d died.

I look up at the walls around us--the blueness of what should’ve been a grey sky. The dirt below my feet starts changing, growing into a carpet of green, tiny green tubes closing around themselves and growing heads of yellow, orange and red. The walls expand as the green seems to take over.

“What is this place?” Shaila asks, and I shrug, not knowing what to say.

The walls seem to melt out of sight and the greenery takes over, until the entire valley is covered; the distant hills and rocky crags are now tall, white-capped mountains. The world—this world—is alive with the sound of animals. I feel the wind—something we haven't felt but through the violence of storms.

A figure stands in the distance.

*

“They call it terra-forming.”

“But who are they?” Shaila asks.

“An alien race. They showed up shortly after everything went out.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. He is old—older than anyone I’ve ever known—and he smiles.

“When your parents were children, they lived in a world like this. And then the earth exploded. Huge clouds of poisonous gas erupted from the bowels of the earth, filling the sky, and all living beings on the planet died. Except a precious few.”

“And then the aliens came?”

“They were looking for a home. Their world died. What few of us that survived were soon revived. The terra-forming not only regenerated the planet, but all living beings. I am, as near as I can sort it out, 173 years old. Your Tribe is the last of the stragglers. They’re also the only hope for our future. We’ve been following you for a long time.”