Authors: Cody Toye
Evolution (12 page)
The irritation in my own voice seemed to circulate energy to my body. I could feel myself trying to move once more. First the left leg, then the right, almost in unison with the abominations marching my way. A death march. My death march.
That last word stung. Its pain was bittersweet. A healthy dose of fear and reality came flooding back to me. I took a breath and vowed to remember this moment, this realization that came over me. One word. A single five letter word may indeed save my life. I now understand the power words hold and vow never again to speak to others without thinking about this moment.
Ten feet away and my thoughts finally cleared. My nervous system went into a sympathetic state and my brain simply said…FLEE!
I plunged my feet deep into the ground, and pushed with all my might. Everything seemed so surreal. I could hear my heartbeat ring in my ears and feel their iron footsteps charging closer. I jumped, barely making it over the bush that dared to block my path.
I heard a low crunch as they charged over it, flattening it like a minor annoyance, nothing more. My hands tingled and my arms pumped up and down, seemingly useless in this struggle. My legs were the only thing that was of importance to me at the moment.
A sharp pain and trickles of blood gently rolled down my arm like a fat drop of rain down a window pane. I didn’t care. If I survived I would pull the thorns from my arm. If I survived I would regret running through a rose bush.
I could hear a low dragging and feel my chest beating so fast it feels like my heart is trying to leap out of my sternum.
For a second time, I listened with morbid respect as my former obstacle gets reduced to nothing more than a memory under the giant feet of the mammoths.
I felt a burn on my calves. A sharp ache. A muscle spasm.
“NO! No no no no you will not quit Trevor!” My voice echoed, my name seemed vast and repeating. Tiny red dots danced before my eyes. My name still clinging to the wind.
“Trevor!”
It was not my voice I was hearing it was Alex. Wait Alex?
This thought didn’t want to register. I kept running wildly ignoring the sound. Bees, the sound was nothing more than a bee hive in my brain buzzing around trying to distract me from my own brutally painful death. A car horn?
“Trevor! Get in!” Alex screamed trying to lift her mousy voice above the rumble.
The truck was inches from me before I realized what was happening. Grabbing onto the side, I flung my body into the bed. Laying flat and breathing deep, I slammed my fist into the cold metal and closed my eyes.
“GO GO GO!”
*~*~*
Delirium is such a wonderful journey. So many things are new and vibrant, and all of them, no matter how bizarre, are safe. The world is safe. My world is…safe. I could feel the sun lick my cheek and could hear the distant melody of Alex’s voice splash like a pebble in my ear. It rippled, echoed, and faded.
I was hot. Sweat was trickling down my brown and making a river down my tummy. It pooled near the navel where tiny little jumping monkey’s splashed playfully in it. Dragonfly‘s buzzed back and forth over the pond, their tails lighting up with purple, blue, and pink neon. A trail of body hair slowly turned golden and swayed in the breeze. A field of wheat marked the entrance and a mossy stone path invited all to my bodies Utopia.
My fever had spiked to one hundred and four and was still rising. I struggled to keep awake in the cool bed of the truck. My body jarred and rolled as the thick tires rolled over debris in the road. My sense of time was shattered. It must have been hours. Days?
I remembered her sweet voice turning hectic. Fear. Panic. My Utopia quaked and the monkeys scurried behind the mountains just east of my clavicle.
“If he doesn’t get more medicine soon he will die Boomer! His wounds are infected and we are almost out of water.”
I felt a big meaty hand wrap around the sweaty tuft of hair attached to back of my head. I felt something cool and wet slide down my dry throat. I dared to open my eyes. Not once, but twice. Reality dripped into my eyelids. Bright sunlight invaded and sharp pain stabbed me. A hard gasp for breath. Sweet oxygen filled my lungs. I see Boomers smiling face and Alex pacing a back and forth in front of the rear axle of the truck. I tried to speak
“W-W” I stammered.
I swallowed and tried to make the external voice match the one in my head. I struggled to articulate the thought. Slowing down my thought process I tried again.
“Where are we? How long have I been asleep?” My voice quivered.
“TREVOR! OH MY GOD YOU'RE AWAKE!”
I felt her soft skin wrap around my neck and a tight squeeze. I managed a brief smile.
“You had us so worried. You have been asleep for almost two days! How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”
She rambled nervously, not knowing how to help me. Slowly I raised my hand as if to silence her. Smiling, I simply replied
“Yes. To everything. And water.”
Slowly, I pulled myself upright. Leaning against the back glass I asked again.
“Where are we?”
“We are in Illinois Trevor. Granny Mae had a few tricks up her sleeve. We will be hitting Missouri by the end of the night. Don’t worry though. You just rest. Okay? Tomorrow we will find some medicine for you in the first city we come across.”
I was worried. She seemed sincere but her eyes seemed to scream “I’m helpless, please don’t die.”
A loud thump disturbed the day. Baboon screeches and unknown growls. Wolves? Pod Wolf pack? A cold shiver ran up my spine. I looked nervously over at Alex.
“Wolves Trevor. Don’t worry they are a few miles behind us. You just go back to sleep. Rest. It will be dark soon and everything will be fine. You will see.”
Boomer squeezed my shoulder, a show of affection yes, but a bit too rough. I felt myself wince and seen an apology in his eyes. I slowly slid back down and clamped my eyes shut. The heavy footsteps and the metallic clank, the shaking of the truck and the rumble of the engine was the last bit of reality I remember.
I was back to my Utopia. I could actually feel the tickle of silky dragonfly wings on my skin as they danced to and fro, enjoying the serene pond.
*~*~*
I thought it was another delusion. It seemed so odd, much stranger than anything conjured up by my feverish imagination. We were stopped just outside of Missouri by what appeared to be a man wearing a live turtle for a hat. Alex and Boomer seemed excited by the notion of more survivors, but me…I was scared. This one was defective.
I remember before the world became a jungle, How my mother used save the receipts to every purchase, telling me that sometimes you have to return the broken items that slipped through the quality assurance cracks. I feel my eyes burn and I strain to listen to the conversation happening between this odd creature and poor Alex. I can see the thin string used to tie the turtle to his head flapping gently in the breeze. His voice rose to a boom, his slow southern drawl had a moonshine and banjo quality to it.
“GET OFF THE GRASS!”
I watched Alex flinch at the abrupt command, looking confused at the acres upon acres of lush greenery she now stood on. The funny man seemed agitated and paced back and forth. Trying to decide if we were friends or foe.
“E-Excuse me sir, I don’t understand where to stand.”
I felt trouble deep in my belly; I knew something was not quite right about this situation. Slowly, I struggled to climb out of the back of the truck. My legs wobbled, my spine seemed to reject the notion of an upright position, and my stomach wanted to eject every bit of substance that filled it.
“I SAID GET OFF THE GRASS! DON’T MAKE ME SEND PRINCE SHELDON DOWN THERE! YOU HEARD ME! GO ON…GIT!” He screamed.
Alex whimpered. She stood frozen in fear. I watched Boomers arm shoot out protectively, trying to cradle her. Trying to stop whatever may come her way. But what? None of us knew what to do. I swallowed hard, trying to be the strong voice of reason.
“SIR. EXCUSE ME SIR. WE ARE JUST TRYING TO PASS THROUGH. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO NOT STAND ON THE GRASS.” I yelled from the passenger side of the truck.
The moment of silence seemed unbearable, like a spark on dry tender, slowly trying to raise a flame and building into something huge and devastating. His voice was surprisingly calm and flat, void of any emotion.
“I know that son. I’m not a moron! I was talking to the dandelions.”
His eyes darted back and forth, from Alex, through Boomer, and then stared directly at me. I felt an uneasy stream babble through the brook of my soul. His voice lowered. Almost too low, like we were long time chums and he had to share something profound.
“The dandelions are plotting an uprising. They tried this before, almost won too; I reckon I would have lost my life if prince Sheldon here didn’t save me. Ain’t that right buddy?”
A smile crossed his face as he patted the hard shell of his box turtle hat.
I slowly made my way to Alex; her face was starting to regain its color but confusion permeated from her eyes. The soft voices and calm conversation seemed to help. We could hear the pod creatures off in the distance, howls. Loud stomping sounds and the occasional wet crunch of new creatures being brought into this world.
“We got to keep moving guys! Sir, HELLO…sir. My name is Trevor and this is Alex and Boomer. We are trying to get through and we don’t have a lot of time. Can you help us? We need food. Do you have anything to eat?”
I heard Boomers stomach growl, adding pronunciation to my thoughts.
“Yea I got some food. I got good food. The food you eat even.” He smile was crooked and his eyes shot up into the sky
“We got guests Ma! Yeah Yeah I’ll mind my manners. No I won’t. Why do you even have to bring that up to our guests? Sheesh, you make one mistake and you never live it down. IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO LET IT GO ALREADY!”
I could feel Alex’s hesitation. I wished I had that receipt. His eyes focused on us and his voice seemed friendlier.
“I am Chief Jedd, Former King of this land until the dandelion people reared their vicious yellow heads. There was just too many of them…growing like weeds, I couldn’t stop them! This is Prince Sheldon and that puffy cloud up there shaped like a wrinkled up raisin…that’s Ma! You are too a wrinkled up raisin! I do love you though. Bah! Ignore her; Ma is a little angry about me losing my kingdom to the dandelions.”
He paused for just a second and then suddenly untied “Prince Sheldon”. For a solid two minutes, he stood still and not a word was uttered. He just held the turtle, as if it was a treasured family heirloom. Then suddenly, to our horror, he threw the turtle as hard as he could at the ditch. Its shell bounced off of the ground and the reptile slide into the trench. We watched as its legs and head darted out of its shell, and it tried to escape its miserable life as Prince Sheldon the hat.
“YOU SEE THAT? I TOLD YOU TO GET OFF OF THE GRASS. OH YOU GUYS ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. HE WILL RETURN YOU KNOW. HE WILL RETURN WITH AN ARMY AND YOU GUYS WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO GIVE ME BACK MY KINGDOM. LOOK! ARE YOU WATCHING? HE’S RUNNING!”
We stared at the turtle confused, watching it slowly creep along the ditch. A wolf howls, its long unnatural sound fills the day. My stomach growled and I felt weak. Staring at the man, I knew…It was gonna be a very long night.
*~*~*
They say there is an invisible line between insanity and genius. I found out that same line can sometimes be more of a crossed verbal wire. What we view as mad can be a deep understanding that is impossible to explain in a rational way. We sat around the camp fire eating Jedd’s “magical stew” and listening to him rant about dandelions. I tried my best to focus; I attempted to listen but failed. I was too aware of the churning of my stomach.
It tasted liked aged meat dipped in spoiled seafood and topped off with nice sprinkle of garbage. I did not care. I was so hungry that I tested my limits. I closed my eyes and bit down. Working the meat to slender portions, I swallowed and felt it slide down my throat hole.
I tried to block out the urge to vomit. The saliva trailed like oil on a string from my upper lip to my tongue, my vision blurred and water threatened. I hated this. It was survival in the most primitive and vile way.
I could see the same look on Alex’s face as she struggled with her own battle. Boomer didn’t even try. I watched him swallow one bite and dump the rest in the fire. I wanted to scold him, tell him he HAS to eat, but couldn’t bare to force this upon him.
As sickening as it was, I was intrigued by the juices that dribbled down Jedd’s chin. The slush in his mouth became visible as he spoke. Important nonsense spewed out of his mouth, but important none the less.
“Eat the stew, survive the dandelions. EAT THE STEW SURVIVE! Magic stew, stinky magic stew that they hate!”
His eyes darted back and forth once more, examining the look on our faces. Disgust, confusion, and a morbid sense of curiosity is what he saw.
We could hear the wolves coming closer to our little sanctuary. Their howls filled the day with a sense of danger. Our hearts raced, our nerve ending shot electrodes to the already heightened fight or flight mechanism.