12. Look for the Light

The light, the light, the light. That was all I could see. It was all I could think of. The forest had seemed unending, and then it wasn’t. The trees opened up to an icy field. Across that field was a pod, bursting with light.

The sun was overhead, a large silver disc in the sky. It was a white dwarf. A star whose internal engine was nearly burnt out. It sent out weak strands of sunlight, with barely any heat.

Why the hell was I here? It wasn’t right. I belonged on the old planet, my home. My old planet was lush and green, with a brilliant star overhead. Now I was on a moon that circled a swampy planet.

I was dropped into this place from a ship piloted by people who thought they were doing the right thing. Set free to do what I liked. On the old planet there were rules, here there were none.

The moon was a penal colony. The worst of the worst from the old planet were packed into ships and sent here to fend for themselves, and according to some I was one of them.

I had been on the planet for less than two hours. The ship touched down in a field, opened its door and shoved us out. There were fifteen of us. Fifteen supposed criminals. We stood in a ragged clump as the ship rose into the sky and flew out of sight. Once it was gone there was no sound at all. We looked at each other and then began to scatter.

I ran towards the woods. I had grown up in the forest, that was where I was comfortable. The trees, which were some type of conifers, were dense. Once in the shelter of the forest I stopped to catch my breath. I had been told that the atmosphere here took some getting used to. It was hard to take a deep breath.

I didn’t see any sign of the other prisoners. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be around people like that.

I continued on. Alternating between running and walking for several hours. The conifers, many with orange cones, thinned. Different types of trees began to appear. Trees with no leaves. It was winter. The ground underneath my feet slowly rose. I didn’t know when to stop, or where to stop. I was on my own.

When I was waiting to be transported, I was told to look for settlements. Exiles built living pods out of materials they found on the moon. The people there were civilized. They would protect you, feed you. You could build a life there.

And then I saw it. I came over the hill. A tree towered over me. There was a light. It was a pod made from slabs of wood. I found myself smiling under the silver sun. It was going to be all right.

“What are you doing?” someone asked.

I spun around. A young woman with dark tangled hair was standing behind me. She was wearing a t-shirt with the logo of a rock band from the old planet.

“I just landed.”

She shrugged. “So what?”

“I’m looking for a settlement.” I told her.

“So am I.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled. I guessed she had been here longer than I had.

I pointed to the pod. “I think you’ve found it.”

She nodded. “I have. I’ve been looking for a long time.”

“Oh.” Maybe I had gotten lucky. Maybe they had different drop off sights. “I hope they have food. I’m hungry.”

She shifted on her feet. “You’re not going. It’s my turn.”

“I’m sure there’s room for both of us.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to ruin it. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“You can go in first.”

She took a few steps toward me. “You’ll find another place.”

“Oh, I see.” I put my hands in my pockets.

Even in the dim sunlight I could see she was scowling. She grabbed my arm. “Get out of here. You’re not ruining this for me.” She suddenly laughed. “You’ll soon learn it’s everyone for themselves here.”

Luckily she grabbed my right arm, I was left-handed. My fingers had already found the handle of the knife that was in my pocket. No one told me I couldn’t bring it. I took it out and stabbed her in the chest.

She cried out and staggered backwards, gasping for breath.

I stabbed her again. I needed her off her feet. It took another blow to bring her down. She tried to fight but it was no use. I knew what I was doing. There was a reason I was here. It only took a few more jabs and she was on her way out, moaning as the life drained from her.

I wiped the blade of the knife on her t-shirt and stood up. I checked her pockets. They were empty. I stood up and put the knife back in my pocket. I turned around. The light beckoned and I continued towards it.

11. Into the Fog

The world was colorless. Everything was bathed in the dusky grayness of the fog. Even the red railings on the porch were hidden behind the cloud of mist that enveloped the island. Still, Jacob continued up the dirt path. There was no turning back at this point. Not only was he here for a purpose, but the ferry was gone, it wouldn’t be back until morning. He had no choice but to keep going.

He stopped to catch his breath. He had forgotten how steep of a climb it was. A seagull squawked. Rustling in the brush told of other wildlife close by. Jacob looked up at the house sitting on its rocky perch. He couldn’t believe he was back here. How long had it been? Twenty years? Maybe more. He felt the gap of time closing behind him. It was as though he had never left.

He started to resume his walk when something caught his eye, a beam of light penetrating the soup. The porch light had been switched on. That damn thing, brighter than the sun. Someone was home. And now they were beckoning him back.

Jacob took a deep breath and then continued the slow steady climb up. As he got closer the details of the house began to emerge through the fog. The red railings. The broken window, repaired with tape, on the front dormer. The sagging porch. And the light, always the light.

He climbed the porch steps and stood in front of the door. The paint was peeling. It was the curse of living on an island, paint peeled off of everything. It was Mother Nature’s way of keeping things clean. He opened the screen door, the hinges squeaked. The sound brought up more memories, bad ones. Don’t go back, he told himself.

Behind the front door the muffled sound of a television could be heard. That thing was always on. Did they know it could be turned off? Probably not. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air smelled of the sea, and furniture polish, and bacon.

“Hello?” he asked. There was no answer. “It’s me.”

From the kitchen a kettle began to whistle and then scream. The sound quickly petered out as someone took the kettle off the stove.

“It’s me, Jacob. I’m home.” He took a few steps forward into the front hallway. Above him someone was walking around on the second floor.

He took his coat off and hung it on a hook next to the door. Another coat was already there. A red plaid one. He knew who it belonged to. He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach. An ambush.

Someone laughed in the next room.

“Don’t tell him.” a voice whispered.

“Dahlia?” Jacob asked. He opened the door to the dining room, where the laughter came from. There was no one there.

“He’s here.” said a voice. It came from the hallway. It was Dahlia.

Jacob ran into the hallway. Predictably, it was empty. “This isn’t funny. You know what you’ve done. Come out and face me.”

“What I’ve done?” Dahlia sauntered into the hallway with that look on her face. The one that said she still didn’t think she was wrong. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“I know what you’ve done, and soon everyone will.”

She glared at him. “You always did think you were better than the rest of us.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You think because you’re adopted, because you’re from some other family that you’re better. You’re not. You’re worse.” She took a step forward. “I know all the things you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

She shook her head. “Oh yes you have.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small gun with a pearl handle. She pointed it at him and grinned. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Jacob put his hands in the air. “Are you crazy? Put that away.”

Dahlia waved the gun around. “Of course I’m crazy. That’s what you’ve always said.”

Jacob backed up. Dahlia came forward, the gun aimed at his chest. He bolted into the dining room just as a thunderous bang rang through the air. Jacob fell to the floor. He grabbed his chest, feeling the blood trickle over his fingers. Dahlia’s tall black boots strolled in front of him, followed by a pair of sneakers, and then a pair of heels.

“You’ll never hurt us again.” Dahlia said, glaring down at him.

Jacob managed to roll onto his side. He looked up at three satisfied expressions. If only he could get them back for this. He would show them. If only. If only. His eyelids slowly closed, shutting out the world.

“Cut!” the director shouted. He was standing next to the cameraman. “Great job everyone. That’s lunch!”

10. The Choice

The road was long, but there was light. It penetrated through the trees in red and orange tinted hues. Go towards the light. That’s what people always said in movies and television shows. This must be the way. The woods on either side of the road looked dark, uninviting, impenetrable. That wasn’t the way, it couldn’t be.

Mara never expected to be here. Well, that wasn’t quite right. She expected she would die someday, but not now, she wasn’t even forty. If only she had not gone for that jog. It was her normal routine, but she could have slept in, that bus would have never hit her. If only, if only. She supposed she had an eternity to think about that.

Go towards the light, she told herself. The wind picked up, rattling the leaves on the trees, changing the pattern of dappled sunlight on the road. She started to run. She had to be close. The road rose up in front of her. It was probably just over that hill. Paradise. She wondered what it would look like. Would her grandmother be there? Would there be ancestors she had never met to show her the way? Mara picked up the pace.

“Hey there.” someone said.

Mara stopped dead in her tracks. She looked around. There was a man standing on the side of the road. He was dressed in a rumpled pair of jeans and a dirty t-shirt with holes in it. His hair, which fell to his shoulders, was black and thick.

“You’re going the wrong way.” the man said.

“No, I’m not.” she replied, as though she knew for sure, which she didn’t.

He shook his head. “You should come with me.” He pointed to the dark woods behind him. “It’s this way.”

Mara took a step back. She felt afraid. “I don’t think so.”

He laughed. “How would you know? You’ve never been here before.”

She didn’t know, not for sure, that she was going the right way. But the light ahead seemed safer than this stranger.

He took a few steps towards her. She noticed that his feet were bare, and also that his eyes weren’t exactly a normal color. Orange perhaps? He used those orange eyes to glance at the light that was so tantalizingly close, beckoning her. “That place, it’s not what you think.”

She looked over his shoulder at the tangle of impossibly dense woods behind him. “And what is that place?”

“It’s where you want to be. It’s where you should be. It’s everything you want.” He pointed at the dirt road beneath their feet. “This is where you have to choose.”

Mara took yet another step back. She didn’t know this guy and she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “I’m going to the light.” She could feel the warmth of the rays on her arms, so close. She was so close.

The man shrugged. “Do what you like, it’s your choice. Don’t blame me when you realize what you’ve done.”

“I don’t even know you.”

He cocked his head to one side. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” she said angrily. The nerve of this guy. “I’m going now.” she announced.

“You’ll regret it.” he said. “Especially when you remember who I am.”

Mara searched her mind trying to think of who he could be. Was he someone she had met in passing during her life? She had waitressed all through college. Maybe he was a customer that she had been rude to? She supposed it could be anything, or he could be lying. That was the more likely case. She was being tempted. It was so biblical, but she was dead, she supposed it came with the territory. “I’m going now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Mara turned away from him. She looked ahead. The rays of light beckoned her, like fingers reaching out to pull her down the road, over the hill, to the next stop on her journey. She began running again. A minute or two and she would be there. She glanced over her shoulder, she couldn’t see that man anymore, whoever he was.

She jogged along, listening to her feet punch the ground. She felt good. She was dead, but it was going to be all right. She hoped she had a nice funeral. Mara crested the hill, the light seemed ready to envelop her, and she was ready for it. It was then that she remembered who the man on the road had been. The memory came to her suddenly, as she stood at the top of the hill, looking down. He had been right, she had gone the wrong way.