James Scotson - Planets Falling

Dinner is over and I’m rinsing the pot when I hear crashing in the woods. I see Samuel’s stark beard before the rest of him emerges. His eyes bulge. Sweat drips from his forehead. He mutters, “Put out the fire. We’ve got to be quiet.”

English quickly kicks the fire, scattering the logs and embers. Bets scoops dirt on the remaining flames. Theo grabs Samuel’s forearm. “Samuel, man, what’s the matter?”

“I decided to take a walk after getting some relief, if you know what I mean.” He pats his lower belly. “I heard a commotion and saw movement in a nearby clearing. I snuck up and saw a group of people, well armed with light armor and lots of blades. I figured they was like us. Maybe lost their town and were forced to roam around. Then I saw the same damned things, monsters, that leveled our home.” His voice cracks and a single tear perches on his eyelid. “The people were feeding the creatures, parts. Human body pieces. Arms, legs, heads. Horrible. Just like I were at the butcher’s.” The tear runs down his cheek.

English shakes his head. “Samuel, you’ve got to be hitting the shine. This surely can’t be.”

“I believe it,” Theo whispers, distributing Troll’s weapons among us. “We’d better be ready. How many people and things are there?”

“About ten good-sized men and a couple of ragged ass women. There are three monsters. Their weapons ain’t going to match ours.”

“We aren’t planning to confront them, are we?” I ask. It seems suicidal for us to attack these things after what they did to our home. We are outmatched, even with the big guns and explosives.

Bets responds. “After what they did to our families and friends, they deserve the wrath of hell. I say we surprise ’em and blow their asses to Sunday morning.”

Theo sighs. “We aren’t fighting no one unless they pick the fight first. We can’t afford to waste our ammo. We’ve got a plan and we’re sticking to it.”

Bets kicks at some coals, her cheeks reflecting the ruddy hue. Samuel and English seem relieved. I just want to crawl into my bed sack and disappear.

We pack the horses and quietly depart in the blanket of darkness. We ride for about ten minutes before the trees fall on us. At least, I think they’re trees. The branches scrape my face while leaves whirl around the horses’ hooves. Theo shouts, “Dismount and follow my voice.”

I jump off Phineus, who’s snorting loudly, but before my feet touch the ground, an enormous set of arms grabs me. I’m being carried off into the woods, with the shouts and grunts of the men and Bets growing more distant. I beat on the arms with little effect. I yell for the others but doubt they hear me. I can’t see my captor well. Its body is frigid and damp in the warm sea air. It doesn’t seem to be breathing, although it occasionally produces a low grumble. Most disconcerting is that I can’t tell where it ends, because it doesn’t have sharp edges. Rather, its form is constantly shifting, like fog on the water.

We near a well-lit clearing, glowing orange-red with firelight. My stomach drops as I realize that it must be the same spot Samuel saw. I’d prefer not to die as meat for some alien creature. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end for me. The creature drops me in front of a lanky, auburn-haired woman dressed in a simple, stained red dress. Veins criss-cross her arms, a small wooden staff clutched between her steely fingers. I examine the creature that captured me. It drips with moisture, like ice brought out of the cellars during summer. Its skin is mud brown. I see no eyes. Rather, its head is dominated by an enormous grinning mouth with large blocky teeth. The thought of being crushed by those jaws consumes me.

“Get up,” the woman in red orders. I rise before her. Three large, scraggly men stand behind me, pushing me forward with their staffs. “Who are you?”

I remain silent. None of my companions has appeared. Perhaps I’m the only one captured and they’ll rescue me soon. Or they’re dead or scattered and I’m doomed.

“Speak to me or we’ll hack you to pieces and feed you to the grubs.”

I consider this for the moment. It’s time to speak. “I’m a spice merchant traveling between towns. I have no business with you. If you let me go, I won’t speak of this to anyone. Mercy please.”

Red dress shakes her head. “The towns along this route are all dust, thanks to me. You’ve been doing no business. I’m giving you one last chance. Who are you and your friends?”

“My name’s Bets Fenster. My village was destroyed and we’ve no home left. We’re looking for a new place to settle.”

“What’s the name of your town, girl?”

Foolishly, I find myself telling her the real name of my former home.

Red dress grunts. “That’s impossible. We destroyed that place as well as the surrounding villages. No one survived, except those I let go.”

These people could have Eliza or know where she is. I ask, “Were you looking for someone? There, in my village?”

“We are looking for the family of Marksman. Do you know them?”

I reel, tensing all my muscles to keep from dropping to my knees. My mind’s blurring. I’ve no idea what to do next. One of the goons slams the back of my leg with his staff and I fall forward into the dirt. My palms scrape the rocks, filling with blood.

Then strangely, red dress bends down, grabs my arm, and gently lifts me up. She says gently, “He shouldn’t have done that. Something tells me that I need to know you better. My name’s Thresh. Let’s sit and talk, between women.” She gives the man that knocked me down a sullen frown. He looks at me nervously and recedes into the darkness of the woods.

We walk over to a musty canvas tent. The interior is simple, with a table, a cot, and three chairs. “Sit,” Thresh commands. She produces a bottle of amber-tinted shine and pours two cups. “I know who you are.”

A trickle of sweat runs down my back. My hand trembles as I reach for the cup and take a sip.

“You’re the mother of the little one and a descendent of a line of people close to the earth. You’re a Marksman. Isn’t it strange how fate brought you here to us?”

Anger replaces fear. “Where’s my daughter? What have you done with her?” I search the tent for a weapon. I consider pummeling her with my chair.

“So, I’m correct.” Thresh settles back in her chair and gulps her drink.

I rise and lunge for her. In an impossible instant, she’s risen and blocks me with her staff, which I swear wasn’t there a moment ago. She pushes me back into my chair.

She snorts. “What’s your first name, Marksman? You’ll be joining us for a long time, so we should get to know each other.” I stare at her wishing she’d die. “That’s fine if you choose not to chat. You’ll eventually turn around. You’re wondering what’s special about you and your daughter, yes? What makes you two worth so much death and mayhem? And there’s a lot of blood on your back, Marksman.” She cracks her neck and stretches luxuriously. “Well, you have a gift, a connection with the earth. This ability to see…” She pauses. “Feel or sense what’s beyond the greenery and the soil and the very fabric of all this…well, that’s special. Turns out that I have that too. And, for all I know, we’re the only people left on earth who can do that.”

She doesn’t know about Flip. Or maybe she does. Perhaps the attack on his village also happened because he was different like me — us. I look over this red woman and wonder if she really believes what she just told me. I suppose I ought to talk. Perhaps I can divine the location of Eliza and figure out a way for us to escape this horrible place. “My name’s Amy Marksman. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my girl back and kill you.”