Accolade – Chapter Twenty-Four

Gideon Lennox

West of Paradise, Galatia

“Any sign of her?” Gideon asks suddenly.

Shaking her head, Sylvia answers, “Nothing just yet.”

Gideon continues scanning the foliage and trees around himself as Sylvia works her way back to him from the detour she had taken into the brush.

The duo had been searching the area surrounding the building they had spent the night in for much of the early morning. Ever since the first rays of light worked their way through the cracks in the old building, they had been up, looking for Meghan.

There was no knowing where the girl went for sure, Gideon could now see that she was a lot better at hiding her tracks then he thought he would ever be able to do.

The only evidence that Meghan had even been here was the bump on the back of his head and Sylvia’s still-simmering anger.

Breaking through the last layer of sticks between her and Gideon, Sylvia huffs, “Think we should check the river?”

Gideon allows himself a brief shudder as the thought of unseen river hybrids flashes through his imagination. Land-based monsters was one thing, he could see them coming. The thought of beasts hiding in water he couldn’t see into was entirely another.

And then there was the matter of his never seeing a river before. He had no idea if they were dangerous, drinkable, or if there were any critters in them at all.

Seeing that Gideon wasn’t answering, Sylvia repeats herself, this time saying it as more of a statement, “We should check the river.”

Nodding silently, Gideon follows Sylvia as they double back and make for the river that hemmed in one side of the structure that they had lodged in. Pursing his lips, Gideon assures himself that there was no such thing as river monsters. None of the textbooks mentioned any tests with any animals that belonged in the water. The river had to be the safest place in the wilderness.

“You know, I’ve always enjoyed the river,” Sylvia starts in a chit-chat tone that didn’t match their current dire straits.

Despite the disparity, Gideon can’t help but join in though, something about talking felt relieving. Like it could distract him from his current surroundings long enough to remind himself that he was human and had a future. Taking a breath, Gideon asks, “You’ve been to a river before?”

Nodding, Sylvia answers, “In the sims, yes.”

“The sims?”

“The simulations that we were put through to train us. Come to think of it, I guess those rivers don’t exactly count as real rivers though.”

“What were they like?”

“The sim rivers? They were lovely… The sound of running water along felt so good, sooths the soul. It’s crazy to think that water could run so freely when we were forced to ration it so tightly at home… I think that could be why I enjoyed the sound so much, just knowing that there was so much water to be had.”

“What else?”

“Well, there are several kinds of beaches for rivers. Some are just dirt, some were carved straight through stone. Others were gravel, sand, and one didn’t even have a beach, it just went from plants straight to the water.” Sylvia stops and laughs, “You know, Maverick fell right through the plants, as it turns out they were floating on the surface! It took us two hours to fish him out, and by the end of it, we were all drenched.”

“Was it scary?”

Beginning to walk again, Sylvia shrugs, “Well, I guess it was, but we didn’t really think about it at the time. That was our first experience with a river, so we weren’t sure what to do exactly. It’s crazy to think they could get so much water just to use in one of the sims, now that I think about it.”

“A lot of this is crazy.”

“Yeah, it is… Hey, so what exactly were you and Meghan talking about before she… before she went crazy?”

Frowning, Gideon slowly recalls the conversation, “Nothing much, I guess. I mean, we talked about Tyson, and I was doing everything I could to make her feel less awful about it. I mean, it was horrible that she abandoned him to die, but… well, I don’t know…”

“She didn’t say anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”

“Well, she blamed herself for it all, that’s for sure. She also told me to stay away from her, said she’d get me killed too…”

“I guess I wasn’t of much help with all of that,” Sylvia turns back and frowns, “Sorry about that.”

“You did what you felt like you had to do,” Gideon shrugs, feeling hollow about it all. For one reason or another, everything felt very resolved already. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something told him that this little chapter was coming to a close.

“What’s that look?” Sylvia asks as she scans Gideon’s face.

Realizing that his brows were furrowed in thought, Gideon allows his face to slacken before he says, “I don’t know. Something just feels weird about all of this.”

“Well, being outside of the domes is bound to feel weird when it’s your first time.”

“No, that’s not it… There’s something else.”

“…You going to tell me about it?”

Gideon sighs as he considers his plays. On the one hand, he could tell Sylvia about his dreams and how they were the reason why he was out here now. He could tell her that his dreams were of the outside world, the world they were in now. He could tell her that the hybrids that he had seen were the same hybrids he had drawn and how those drawings changed the course of his life. On the other hand, he could hide all of that and simply give her a vague response.

“What is it?” Sylvia asks when Gideon takes too long to answer.

“It’s… complicated. I—well, there’s something about me that’s a bit weird—”

“I doubt it’s as weird as trying to hear you skirt around it,” Sylvia interrupts, “Give it to me straight.”

“Well, I have dreams.”

“So do a lot of people,”

“They’re not really normal… They’re of the future.”

“Lots of people dream of the future. It’s how their brains cope with the present. It lets us hope—”

“No. Like they literally are of the future.”

“Oh?”

“I knew what the hybrids looked like before I got out here, I drew a picture of one and that’s what got me sent out here. One stupid drawing.”

“I’m not following. Are you telling me that you’re some kind of prophet?”

“A prophet? I… I never thought of it like that.”

“You’re serious right now?”

“Completely serious,”

“I… Well, if you’re a prophet, then prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Tell me my mother’s first name.”

“I already met your mother,” Gideon laughs.

Laughing in response, Sylvia admits, “Oh, right. I forgot that. Well… Tell my what my middle name is then.”

“I don’t know, that’s not really how it works for me.”

“So, you’re just a baby prophet then!” Sylvia announces teasingly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, I don’t even know if—”

“Oh, you’re a prophet alright. At least if what you’re telling me is true.”

“It is,”

“Well, then I guess I’ve got a lot to teach you, because I knew several prophets back at home.”

“Several?”

“Yep, they’re sort of the reason why I got sent out here. I’d hear them talking about secret Coalition stuff that they had seen in prophet-land, so I’d go and check it out to see if it was real. Admittedly, I had a lot of doubt in their abilities. Fast forward a few yeas, and here I am. I guess prophecy gets people sent out of the domes! First me, now you.”

“I guess,”

“Now, think you could tell me what’s about to happen? Maybe tell me where Meghan is?”

Gideon shakes his head as he continues walking. He hadn’t ever thought of honing his ability to dream of the future before, up until now it hadn’t served any purpose, it was just a means to keep him up at night. He is about to verbalize that he couldn’t tell her anything when he stops dead in his tracks.

Before him was a tree that was far too familiar.

It was the tree from one of his dream visions.

The gnarled bark, the baby ferns that were growing in the decomposing bark on the south side. The reaching branches that blotted out the sun. Even the dancing lights on the ground that broke through the dense canopy. It was all from one of the earliest visions that he could actually recall.

“Syl—Sylvia!” Gideon chokes. When she doesn’t stop, he calls out louder and in a stronger voice, “Sylvia!”

“What?” Sylvia asks, started. She looks Gideon over and a look of worry overcomes her face, “W-what is it? Don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me…”

“I… I know where Meghan is…”

“Gideon, you’re scaring me. Why do you look like you just saw a dead body?”

Because I did, Gideon answers in his head. He had seen a dead body, but it was many years ago. Easily a decade. That body was one that he found not long after circling around the gnarled tree with the baby ferns.

A look of dread crosses Sylvia’s face and she asks the question that Gideon dreaded, “Meghan is dead, isn’t she?”

Closing his eyes, Gideon allows his head to drop in a defeated nod.

Suddenly the idea of being a prophet didn’t seem nearly as amazing to him.

Accolade – Chapter Twenty-Five

Maverick Gracian

West of Paradise, Galatia

“What do you see?” Maverick calls up to the twins in the trees. They had informed him that they saw something a few moments before, but they hadn’t explained themselves since then. Their inability to tell him any more just made him nervous and Maverick felt like he had good cause to be. He could feel in his bones that something was up.

Maverick can hear the twins discussing something, but he can’t make out the words. A good minute or so passes before Astrid calls down, “We see two of your people…”

“Good! Where are they?”

“They’re on the other side of the river…”

“Well, let’s get over there.”

“They’re doing something…”

“What is it?” Maverick asks worriedly. He could tell that something was wrong, he just hated the idea that Astrid and Warren thought they needed to hide it from him.

“They’re—they’re burying someone.”

“Burying someone,” Maverick whispers to himself. It seemed that his worst nightmare had come to pass yet again. Swallowing in an attempt to wet his throat, Maverick realizes that his mouth had gone dry. He fumbles with his pack, and he pulls out his water bottle. His hands shaking, he empties its contents and a third of it ends up on his shirt thanks to his shaking. Swallowing the last bit of water, he summons his strength from his suddenly fatigued body, and he asks, “Do you recognize them?”

“Yes—”

“Who is it?”

“Gideon and Sylvia are burying Meghan.”

Accolade – Chapter Twenty-Six

Gideon Lennox

West of Paradise, Galatia

“Now what?” Gideon asks weakly.

Sylvia looks up to him with red eyes that had long since run out of tears. She shrugs.

Between Gideon and Sylvia is the freshly filled grave where Meghan’s body lay. The rich smell of earth fills the air and is mingled with that of sweat. The sun bears down on Gideon and Sylvia with an impassive watchful gaze and Gideon notes that the skin on the back of his neck is beginning to burn under the direct light.

“I guess we could say a few words,” Gideon answers his own question with a feeling of dread. Everything that had happened over the past hour or so weighted down on him so heavily that he felt incapable of moving or thinking. In many ways, he felt like an engine that hadn’t had its oil changed in many years and was now seized and full of the thickest grime known to man. Grime so thick that it prevented the engine from performing its duty until it was cleared out.

“No,” Sylvia chokes as she shakes her head.

“Then what do we do?” Gideon whimpers as he lays on his side to watch the grave. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like it was his duty to watch it.

“Just sit here,” Sylvia answers with another shrug.

As Gideon lays beside the grave, he feels a tear snake its way from the corner of his eye to his temple. There, it hangs precariously for a few short moments before the constant thud of his heartbeat shakes it loose. Just like Meghan’s life, this tear’s future is immediately ended, and it becomes part of the ground.

Accolade – Chapter Twenty-Three

Maverick Gracian

West of Paradise, Galatia

“Look’s like I’m on the right track,” Maverick mutters to himself as he slowly works his way through the dense foliage of the forest. For one reason or another, the forest seems to be resisting his advance. The trees stand as monoliths between him and his objective and the ferns and other ground cover try to tear at his legs in an attempt to stop him entirely.

There is a brief crack overhead and Maverick looks up in time to see one of the Ki’etz twins flash out of sight.

Sighing, Maverick can’t help but feel useless and helpless. His inability to make it out here in the wild was obvious enough that Roland sent the twins along to babysit him. Sure, their presence was helpful, but it also felt quite demeaning.

It made Maverick feel a little bit scared too.

The thought that travelling alone was a near-certain death sentence didn’t sit well. His training had made it seem like the hybrids would be a lot more confrontational than they were turning out to be. He knew he was being hunted by them, even right now. Every so often, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up on end as he felt the stare of one of the predators.

For the first time in his life, Maverick was the prey.

Maverick chuckles at the thought. The absurdity of being on the bottom of the food chain seemed nearly impossible. Man was supposed to be at the top—feared by all creatures.

And yet, here he was at the bottom.

“We’re coming up on one of the old towns!” Astrid calls down from the trees.

Maverick looks around and tries to spot her, but he fails to do so. Shaking his head slightly, he drops his head and resumes his constant scanning of the surrounding forest for threats and for survivors from his team.

“The tracks lead to the old town, I’m willing to be there’s only one person though,” Warren reports from another treetop.

This time, Maverick manages to pick out the twin in the trees and he feels like it’s quite the accomplishment. The twins had a way of being nearly invisible while they were in the dense canopies, so being able to notice them at all was impressive.

Still trudging ahead, Maverick asks, “Think they stopped here, or do you think they moved on?”

“No idea,” Warren answers.

“I don’t see any tracks, but I can’t be sure,” Astrid chimes in after a few seconds.

“You can’t be sure?” Maverick queries. Something about Astrid’s delay and her choice in words worried him.

Astrid lets out a few short sounds before she finally says, “There was a lot of hybrid activity.”

At that, the blood in Maverick’s veins runs cold and his fingers and toes feel as clammy as they did in one of the sims back at Paradise where he and his team were left in sub-zero temperatures for over a week. The thought of hybrids tracking down and killing someone on his team made him bone-cold—colder than he had even gotten in that frigid ice sim.

Looking down, Maverick stares at the small drops of blood on the leaves of the underbrush. The blood, Maverick had reasoned, belonged to Tyson. He was the only person who was injured and bleeding.

That blood probably lured the hybrids right to him… Maverick thinks, But… why would Tyson go out here all on his own? There was that other set of tracks that split off from him a kilometer or so behind me, but that’s a long way for Tyson to go on by himself. He knew better than that. Was he luring them away to save the other person? How? Why?

Closing his eyes, Maverick offers up a quick prayer and asks that Tyson is the only person that he finds dead. Maverick knew he couldn’t handle finding anyone else.

“I see blood,” Astrid calls down in as soft of a voice as she can, “I’m sorry, Maverick.”

“I need to see it for myself,” Maverick shakes his head as he tries his best to strengthen his resolve. Swallowing a few times, Maverick tries to clear all the spit out of his mouth in an attempt to keep from vomiting. He had no idea what he was going to see and, for some reason, having a dry mouth seemed like the proper thing to go in with.

“It’s not pretty,” Warren warns.

Shuddering with every step, Maverick weakly continues forward. Each step feels like it’s jarring his bone while the ground underfoot suddenly feels like nothing at all. Taking a shaky breath, Maverick whispers, “I have to see it.”

•••••••••••••••

Maverick sits by the campfire alone, exactly where the twins had left him probably two hours ago. The heat of the fire warms his flesh, but its heat seems unable to penetrate any deeper than his skin.

In front of him, Tyson O’Connell’s face stares back blankly.

If it weren’t for the Stalwart Program, Maverick knew that he wouldn’t have ever met Tyson. The Domes weren’t something that the average civilian could pass between since the Coalition government didn’t want to commit the resources to escorting everyone between the walled cities. As such, Maverick grew up on what was essentially an island. Nothing changed in his Dome and no one new came along or left, discluding those who were born and those who died.

Smiling slightly, Maverick thinks about all the friends that he had made just because of the Stalwart Program. He had been able to see more of the world and meet more new people than just about everyone back at home. For the first time in his life, he was able to live under the sun and stars and not under a thick dome of concrete with small glass ports to taunt you by reminding you that there was an outside world. That there was an entire land to be rediscovered. That you were a prisoner because you were told it was safer inside.

Thanks to the Stalwart Program, Maverick got to meet some amazing kids. Kids like Tyson.

Looking back at Tyson, Maverick’s smile vanishes.

The Stalwart Program was the reason why Tyson was dead now.

The Stalwart Program was what kept Tyson from his dreams of being an inventor, and chef, and so many other wonderful things that interested him. Chuckling softly, Maverick realizes that he had likely forgotten half of the things that Tyson had said he would do when he grew up.

But the Stalwart Program stole away the promise of growing up from Tyson too.

“Why?” Maverick croaks. His voice had long since failed him. Something about the scene before him stole away his voice in a way he didn’t know was possible and he had begun to wonder if he could ever speak again.

Still laying before him, Tyson stares back.

Tyson’s eyes are glazed over and have taken on a milky sheen. His cheeks no longer resemble plump peaches. Instead, bruises cover his entire body. Nasty black bruises and massive black blood blisters.

The twins told Maverick that this was evidence of the venom that had killed Tyson. They said this venom came from one of the hybrids—one that they had thought they killed off years ago.

Blinking once, Maverick takes another shaky breath. He was alone. Somewhere not too far away, the twins were sleeping. Odds were one of them was keeping watch, keeping an eye out for hybrids and probably watching him too.

Beyond the reaches of the small clearing, howls from the hybrids rise up into the heavens like some horrible pagan ritual. These creatures of the night were hunting for anything and everything that they could eat and Maverick kept praying short prayers with every spurt of feverous celebratory howls from the monsters that the prey that they had killed wasn’t one of his people.

Swallowing once more, Maverick slowly rises to his feet and looks around. Seeing that he is still alone, he stretches out and his stiff limbs happily receive the release of movement after being forced into such an uncomfortable position for so long.

“So, this is what it’s like out here,” Maverick whispers, “Why didn’t they just kill me when they had the chance?

•••••••••••••••

“Why didn’t who just kill you?” Astrid’s voice rises from the bushes behind Maverick.

“The Coalition,” Maverick grunts as he lowers his head into his cupped hands and lets out a muffled moan. Taking in a seething breath through his gritted teeth, he thinks, Why Tyson? The kid didn’t do anything to deserve something like this!

“So, they’re the ones who run the Domes, right?” Astrid asks, “Sorry, I’ve never been able to really ask these questions.

Maverick looks up from his cupped hands at Astrid, who is now sitting beside him, opposite of the side that Tyson’s body is on. He is about to answer when he notices the blood on his hands.

Tyson’s blood.

Swallowing, Maverick realizes that the blood was likely all over his face now, and he quickly tries wiping it off with his sleeve.

Astrid offers Maverick a worried look and she reaches over and pulls his arms away from his face. Shaking her head slowly, she gently says, “It’s okay, you got everything.”

Maverick’s eyes feel like they’re bleeding from all the crying he had already done. Worse yet, the feeling had grown worse since he had run out of tears. He had failed his team, he had failed those who put him in charge of his team, and now he had failed Tyson.

It was his failing Tyson that left him feeling the most empty.

“Come on, let’s get somewhere a little more protected,” Astrid urges as she stands and gives Maverick a playful shove, “Warren and I found a spot nearby, he’s already snoozing, you should be too.”

Maverick doesn’t budge and his eyes fall back to Tyson’s stiff body.

“I’ll keep watch to make sure nothing happens to him,” Astrid pledges, “I doubt you’d be of much help as it is anyways.”

Frowning, Maverick can’t help but realize the truth in Astrid’s words. Despite this, he can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t move. That he couldn’t move. That by leaving now, he was giving in to an easy out and was letting Tyson down one more time.

Astrid sighs and then drops to her haunches beside Maverick. She waits for him to cast a sidelong glance toward her before she offers, “I can either wait here the rest of the night beside you, or we can bury him now. What will it be? I’m done watching you do nothing.”

Maverick grunts in response. Astrid made things sound so simple, and it was, but it wasn’t at the same time. Thanks to his crying, thanks to sitting here so long, thanks to the guilt, doing anything seemed impossible.

“I’m serious,” Astrid warns.

“I don’t know,” Maverick sighs.

Maverick watches as Astrid shakes her head and looks to the skies. She mouths out a few words before she turns her back to him and leans on his shoulder. She sighs quietly once more before she cedes, “Then I guess I’m stuck here until you do know.”