Tree of Life

The New West Westerly

James and Ebru sped through the pitch black passageways, many of which James had chiseled and cleared with his own hands. “This way.”

“Slow down.” Ebru tugged at his shirttail.

“We need to find him before he compromises more tunnels.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about. Stop and listen.”

James froze. A soft tittering faded quickly. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the echo of his own movements.

Ebru grabbed his hand and signed into his palm. She used the sign language James and his platoon had worked out in the trenches of the Great War. Soundlessly, she warned him. “The enemy are nearby. Retreat.”

The hair on James’ arms stood on end. He felt the truth of it.

Ebru repeated a single sign. “Retreat.”

James ground his teeth. These were his tunnels. He wouldn’t leave a man behind, even Westerly. He squeezed Ebru’s hand, then signed, “Get the others out.”

Ebru wiped his hand and started over. “Retreat together.”

James pinned her hands at her side and kissed the top of her head. Before she could argue, he continued toward the source of Westerly’s scream alone. He exhaled after ensuring Ebru hadn’t followed him. Good girl.

For several minutes, he prized stealth over speed, as if tiptoeing through a minefield. He knew Ebru to be a sensible young woman, not given to flights of fancy or baseless fears. That meant he faced an enemy he could’t identify.

A breeze brushed past his ankle. He froze. The proximity alarm in his head triggered. Turning, he threw up his guard. He struck out at the blackness with two sharp jabs, contacting nothing but empty air. He strained his eyes and ears. He sniffed the air. Something was there, just out of reach.

“Moleman, is that you?”

James clenched his teeth. “Westerly. In God’s name—”

“Never use God’s name unless you’re prepared for the ramifications.”

James inched closer to Westerly’s voice. A sour breeze washed across his face.

“Where are the others?”

“Where they should be.” Following a gut feeling, James searched the blackness on all sides of him.

“And the girl?”

The back of James hand struck something hairy for a split second. Before he could control his impulses, it had gone. He lunged toward its retreat without result.

“The girl!” Westerly shouted.

James charged the politician. He shoved Westerly into the wall of the tunnel with his forearm and choked him at the neck. “The girl is none of your business.” He growled, his face an inch from the tip of Westerly’s nose.

Westerly exhaled and the stench nocked James backward. “My business extends infinitely beyond your comprehension. Yet, you and the girl play critical roles.”

James’ head spun. The world lost its mooring as he grasped at gravity to anchor his feet. Westerly’s voice intensified inside his head.

“Alas, you do me no good without her. I finally have a willing vessel. You have the tree. I only need the magic of the girl.”

“I’ll kill you before you touch her.” James swung a blind fist. Suddenly, his head compressed from all sides. He covered his ears, as if to keep his brains inside. He dropped to his knees.

“So headstrong.” Westerly bent over him. “Always looking forward. You’ve never allowed yourself to wonder how you survived the explosion at Reims, or for that matter, the Bunker Hill cave-in. You’ve no idea why you’re always the sole survivor.”

James coughed and spat. He tasted the warm salt and iron of his own blood. He felt it against the palms of his hands as the throbbing in his ears increased.

“Sure, you’ve experienced guilt, even self-loathing. You hate yourself for being powerless to save those around you.” Westerly clapped his hands over James’ hands and squeezed.

James cried out.

Westerly drove his knee into James’ nose.

Lightning spidered across his vision as his head tossed backward and crashed into the stone floor of the tunnel.

“That’s not going to change this morning.”

James tried to clench a fist, but his entire body had gone limp. He used his fading strength to curse. “Go to hell.”

Westerly laughed. “Where do you think I’m from?”

The sour breeze returned as fine hairs crept over the entire surface of James’ prone body. His insides roiled. He clenched his eyes tight.

“T’vogh astvats pahpani Dzez bolorin dem ch’ar!” Ebru’s voice exploded in the confines of the tunnel.

Through James’ clenched eyelids, a brilliant red light flared. Heat and shattered rock washed over him, then all memory faded.