Zonaton (20 page)

            "I'll have to find some tinder to help me light the fire stones, to keep the pit going so I don't freeze," she noted to herself. But before she did that, she'd leave the backpack inside. No sense trudging around all that extra weight.

            She thought she was ready to face life without Zonaton. She thought she could cope. She was wrong. The moment she stepped into the cavern that was dark and cold because the pit had gone out, grief threw its enormous weight across her shoulders, and she fell again to her knees.

            This time she could hear her own voice echoing in the rocks. The wind coming around the corner wailed a mournful sound along with hers. She knew crying did her no good, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted Zonaton. She wanted his warmth and his laughter rumbling inside her head. She wanted his strong arms to encase her, protecting her, loving her.

            For fifteen years he had been the other half of her soul. Now that part of her was gone, leaving her incomplete and almost helpless.

            "Please. Let me be strong. Let me survive," she begged softly to no one. "Let me get through today, and then tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. Please. Oh, please. It hurts so damn much."

            Somehow she managed to crawl around to the inner wall of the cave and curl up into a ball. In the rear of the cave she could hear the little spring throwing water into the pool. Between it and the fire pit lay the pallet. Their pallet they had shared.

            Tired, hungry, and devastated, Emmala laid her head on the pouch and fell into an uneasy rest.

Baragas

            The nearer he got to the village, or what was left of the village, the more alarmed he became. Something had happened here. Something had rendered this place into nothing more than smoke and ashes, and his first thought was the miners.

            He met the rock wall that marked the outer perimeter, the stones tumbled or blasted away in sections. Climbing through, he found himself in one of the backyards. As luck would have it, some clothing hung from the drying lines, unmoving in the dead air. Opting for the larger, brown-colored set, he quickly tried them on. The pants fit all right, but the top was a bit snug. No matter. They would do until he could find some more.

            The house itself was dark. No sign of life appeared within. Still, he remained cautious as he slipped inside the open door to look around.

            The place was empty, as he'd suspected. Quickly, Zonaton hurried to the rear rooms to look for a pair of shoes. He was not accustomed to walking, much less having rock shards piercing his feet. Not to mention striding over burning cinders and other unidentifiable charred things that littered the streets.

            He found a pair that fit somewhat. Going back into the main living area, he tried the kitchen to see if there was anything there worth eating. There were containers of food items stacked in the cupboards. Items he didn't have any way of recognizing. All his previous life he'd fed on a diet of raw meat. On the animals which were the main staple. He wondered if his new form would be able to handle the same kind of food, or if he would have to resort to a half-meat, half-plant type of sustenance. The foods...

           
Emmala.

           
He paused, container in hand, and felt the worry begin to weave around his insides. Was she here in the village? Had she survived the attack?

            His gut instinct told him she was still alive. She had survived, and she was out there. Somewhere.

           
The only way I will be able to find her is by looking for her. I can not stop until I find her.

           
Taking the container with him, he exited the house and peered in the direction where the thickest cloud of smoke continued to billow into the morning sky. Something continued to burn. Something in what appeared to be the center of the village, if he remembered correctly. Would Emmala be there?

            Tearing off the lid, he used two fingers to scoop out the contents the way he'd seen her do it. The taste burst in his mouth and on his tongue with flavors he had never experienced before. A little tart, a little sweet, but overall not unpleasant. His stomach rumbled, and he took a second bite, and promptly nipped his fingertips.

            Jerking his fingers out of his mouth, he stared at the two bruised digits. He had teeth now. In fact, there were a lot of things about him that he had now but didn't when he was a geron.

            "I must be careful in this new form. It is the only one I have left."

            He startled himself. The words had come out tangled and a little unintelligible, but they had been words. Not a squawk like he'd expected. And his tone was deep. Strange sounding.

            "I can talk." Those words were a bit clearer, but still jumbled. "It will take time. And practice. Lots of practice."

            The contents of the container were gone. His stomach felt full, and his head seemed clearer. Tossing the empty container on the ground, Zonaton knelt to wipe his fingers on the grass as he gazed around. "Which way do I go? Where do I head?"

           
Emmala, where are you?

           
The center of the village,
a tiny voice in his head answered. Nodding, he went in that direction, using his instinct to guide him as he was unable to read the markers set at the end of the streets. He vaguely remembered that all roads eventually led to the main square. If he remained true to his course and didn't veer, he knew he would eventually reach his destination.

            As he drew closer to the market area, he spotted something large, black, and rectangular lying at an angle where it had crashed into one of the houses. He instantly recognized it as part of the miners' space craft. One of the nine separate smaller ships that made up the whole. Giving it a wide berth, he continued on toward the central hub.

            The geron was sitting on the stone slab podium, watching him approach with its crystalline gaze. Zonaton approached the creature without fear and stopped in front of the dais.

           
I should know you
,
the geron acknowledged.
I sense it. You are not one of the humans, and yet you are.

            Zonaton smiled.
"As well you should know me, Baragas. I am Zonaton."

           
The pale blue creature reacted in shock.
You lost your first life when the humans killed you. Yet this is the form you chose for your second one? That of one of them?

           
"It is."

            Why? It is a weak form. It has no wings or musculature. You have allowed yourself to become virtually helpless.
The creature paused, then arched its long neck toward him.
You did it for your Pair.

           
"I did,"
Zonaton acknowledged.

           
Why?

           
"Because I came to love her."

            The geron chewed on the comment.
You love her enough to sacrifice your second life to become one of them?

           
"It is not a sacrifice. Not to me. Not unless she is no longer among us."

           
For the first time, he allowed himself to voice the fears that had begun to plague him ever since he initially saw the extent of the village's destruction. Opening his arms to encompass the area, he looked around.

           
"Have you seen her? Is she here? Can you tell me if she survived the miners' attack?"

           
Baragas shook himself.
I cannot say for certain, but I can ask others if they have seen or spoken to her since the miners' defeat. You were right to be wary of the aliens, Zonaton. Although their main focus this time appeared to be the humans, and not us, we have no doubt they would have attacked us as well. In the future, if they ever appear on our world again, we will not be hesitant to drive them off or kill them.

           
"So all the miners are gone? Are dead?"

           
Yes.

           
"Were many humans killed?"

           
Yes, but many fled to the other villages.

           
Zonaton nodded, and his gaze went to the podium. More memories, hazy and distant, came to him. Although they weren't clear, their emotional impact remained solid.

            Emmala. Her tear-stained face.
Don't die, Zonaton. Please. Stay with me.

           
The angry mob of people shouting at them.

            The vision of Emmala's mother with the self-satisfied smirk on her face as the pain blossomed in his chest.

            The pain. The numbing, soul-stealing pain.

            He was unaware of the geron taking off as he bowed his head and clenched his fists. His kind could only detect those children who bore the genes of hate and destruction. The ones who would grow up to kill maliciously and with extreme horror. But there were those like Emmala's mother who slipped through their detection during The Walk. People like her who would not kill, but instead made other's lives miserable. Who thrived on their own power to dominate and emotionally destroy.

            He had not chosen to come back as a human simply to live with Emmala once more, until the rest of their days. There had been another reason. If her mother still survived, she would spend the rest of her life going after her daughter. Zonaton had no doubt about that. But as a geron, his chances of protecting Emmala would be almost nil. He would have to watch out for more attempts on his life, and possibly put Emmala in harm's way. Despite his strength and abilities, he'd learned how dangerous he was to her.

            Which was why his choice to become human made perfect sense. The humans would not suspect who he had been. With a little luck, he could keep the mother at bay, away from Emmala. Away from them. And in the event he was found out, the other gerons would protect him.

           
Zonaton.

           
The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up to see his old friend coming to land.

           
"Akrim. It is good to see you."

           
The geron peered closely at him, then nodded.
Yes. Even in your new form, I can tell it is you. How is being human faring with you?

           
Zonaton chuckled. He was pleasantly surprised to hear it rumble in his chest as it had when he was a geron.
It is vastly different. Give me a few more days, then ask me again.
Suddenly serious, he moved closer to the creature.
"Akrim, have you—"

           
You seek Emmala.

           
"Yes. Have you seen her? Is she alive?"

           
Yes. I spoke with her not too long ago.

            Sweet relief flooded him to the point where Zonaton had to sit down before his legs gave way.
"She is alive. Is she well? Or was she injured in the attack?"

           
As far as I could tell, she is physically unhurt, although she is emotionally distraught. She is consumed by your death
.

            The geron allowed him a moment to come to grips with the news before continuing.

           
Zonaton, she left for the mountains to return to the cave you shared, but I must warn you. The people who fled this village are incensed. They are angry beyond measure.

            Zonaton stared at the geron.
"Why?"

           
They believe we initiated the attack on the miners. They believe we drew the miners here to the village so that the humans would be caught in the middle of the battle.

           
"That is untrue."

           
I agree, and we have tried to reason with the humans. Unfortunately, they will not listen.

           
Akrim lifted his head and wings, and peered over his shoulder.

           
At this moment the survivors are returning to the village. If they find us here, they will try to destroy us. You must go, Zonaton. Go back to the mountain. Go back to Emmala and live the life you chose with her. You must hurry and leave here. Come. Walking will be too slow. Get on my back, and I will fly you to your cave.

            Silently, Zonaton climbed on top of the big geron and grabbed the creature's neck folds for stability. He realized that this was what Emmala had grown up with, being in this position. Having this view from his back. He was getting a whole new perspective on what it was like to be a human in a geron world.

            Akrim jumped into the sky, circling the village once to afford Zonaton the chance to see the crowd of people advancing through the narrow roadway leading to the next village. A few walked through the fields bordering the road, defying geron law by not staying within the boundaries. Several people spotted the creature flying high above them, but Akrim was too far for their weapons to reach.

            Zonaton felt his friend's sadness as the creature banked and headed for the mountains.

Chapter Thirty

The Revelation

            Unable to get any kind of restful sleep, Emmala arose and left at dawn to go hunting, but she'd had no luck. It was a skill she would have to get better at if she wanted meat to eat. Zonaton had been the one to bring the majority of fresh kill to their cave, leaving her to scrounge for the plants and fruits she also liked. Fortunately, she managed to find a few pili-pili roots and leaves, which she brought back with her to the cave to cook.