Onio (29 page)

Onio
winced slightly when he first stood up, but Mel saw that his legs were strong
and his posture was straight. Mel gazed at the lines of his back as he walked
toward the king and felt a flush of desire course through her body. Although
scars marred Onio’s flesh, and the puncture hole from the spider’s leg was
ringed in bands of red and purple bruises, he was so beautiful it took her
breath away and made her loins flush with heat.

She
remembered the first time they made love. She was almost delirious with passion
and eager to feel the length of him inside her, but he was careful. Slowly, surely,
he brought her to the heights of desire, so that by the time he entered her she
was slick with sweat and pliable to his steady advance. He was almost more than
she could take, but take she did, again, and again.

Staring
after him now, Mel blushed and started gathering the bowls and cups together
for washing. Her belly fluttered briefly, like a butterfly, and then she bent
over, heaving into one of the bowls. Everything she had just eaten came back
out, and she groaned.

She
felt a large, warm hand on her back and felt her hair pulled back by gentle
fingers. Tears filled her eyes and Mel whispered, “I’m sorry, I…I must have the
flu.” She heaved again, but there was nothing left in her belly. “Gak,” she
gasped, trembling with nausea.

She
sat still for a moment, waiting for the sickness to subside. When she looked
up, Mel saw that Rain, Petal and Tanah, who had left her family’s fire to
visit, stood around her. All of them were grinning, and Petal’s eyes
over-flowed with tears.

Mel
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, “Why are you all laughing
at me? I’m sick!” She was angry at these insensitive females! Just because THEY
never seemed to get sick, she seethed, didn’t mean that…that….

Her
mouth fell open in shock. Before she had a chance to put her suspicion to
words, however, Rain said, “The stars in the sky rejoice, Granddaughter!
Perhaps you will give Onio a fine son, although I would be just as happy with a
stout girl.”

Mel
burst into tears. It was the hormones she supposed, but it was also a joy so
keen she thought she might die of it. As she wept, the females surrounded her
with love and support, as only females know how to do.

Sensing
a commotion by his family’s fire, Onio glanced back to see what, if anything,
was wrong, and caught his grandmother’s eye. She smiled, nodding that all was
well, and he turned back to hear the high king’s words. Strangely, tiny sips of
the Fire Root tea were being distributed throughout the audience and Onio’s
mouth watered. Although he was feeling much better now and knew he would heal
with time, his back still burned like fire and his muscles felt loose and achy
from the spider’s venom.

The
tea would speed his recovery and mask the pain, but he frowned thoughtfully. Fire-root
tea was mostly ceremonial. Why was the king doing this strange thing? He took
the tiny saucer and lifted the drink to his lips, relishing the soothing warmth
that coated his throat and belly. Instantly, the wound on his back settled into
a soft throb, hardly recognizable as pain.

New
Moon took a tiny sip of tea as well, and began to speak. “I am grievously sorry
for what happened to our good warriors.” Tears ran down the old sasq’s cheeks.
“In all my long years, I have never seen a tunnel so overrun by pests. I…I just
don’t understand what has brought about this change. Does anyone know, or has
there been word of this new development?”

Onio
cleared his throat, and the king and his audience turned to hear the young
warrior’s words. “I don’t know for sure if my idea is correct, but my
companions and I witnessed a strange and wonderful thing while making our way
to the conclave. There was a creature in an underground cave who told us that
he was a watcher and a caretaker. He also said that he was leaving, and it is
true! We saw his starship come out of the big waters and fly away, up into the
stars.

“I
wonder,” he continued softly, “if through all these long years that little creature
kept the underground passages safe, but now that it is gone the tunnels are
grown wild again?”

The
warriors stirred with anxiety and turned to one another with worried faces. The
old sasquatch stared at Onio as if thunderstruck. “Do you mean to tell me that
Triku has left his post?”

Onio
looked down, blushing, and whispered, “I think so, yes.” He felt silly now,
talking about the bug-like creature as if it was something new and unheard of.
Of course, New Moon would know about the caretaker.

The
king looked up at the low ceiling of the tunnel and smiled. His smile was so
profoundly sad however, the sasquatch warriors stopped talking amongst
themselves and stared at him in fear.

“This
changes everything, I fear,” New Moon murmured. “The tunnels leading toward
Montana and Wyoming are impassable, so I considered taking the young one’s
advice and leading my people into the far northern lands. Now, though, I know
we will not survive the journey.”

“Why
not?” Two Horses growled. “My people are many! We will vanquish our enemies in
the land we know so well!”

New
Moon nodded and replied, “I know that you and your tribe members are fierce and
terrible in battle, Two Horses, but we will not be able to go there.” The old sasq
looked away from the fear and confusion in Two Horses’s eyes.

“My
scouts have ranged far and wide in the last few days,” he added. “Everywhere
they go they see the small human armies with their war machines. The only way
we could avoid them is to travel in the underworld tunnels, but if our caretaker
has left, that means the tunnels are no longer safe. We are mighty, but not
mighty enough to battle the strange creatures that dwell between here and
there.”

Two
Horses began to shout again, and the old king thundered, “Silence nephew! You
might be big and strong now, but I remember when you were but a pup at your
mother’s teat!”

Onio
saw the giant northern king’s face turn red and his son, Blue Sky, winced in
sympathy. There was a stir of barely concealed amusement amongst the warriors.
Onio noted, however, that no one dared acknowledge the pointed jest. Two Horses
sat down with a disgruntled growl.

New
Moon sat and watched his warriors until they fell silent again, and watchful.
Then he said, “There is only one thing to do now, but I doubt any of you will
like it overmuch,” he sighed.

He
sat still for a moment, looking down at the empty cup in his hands. Then, when
he lifted his eyes again, his features were dark and dangerous. “It is time now
to leave the privacy and sanctuary of our caves and tunnels.” His voice rang
with authority and every sasquatch in the tunnel heard his words like a clarion
call.

“We
will go south, in a tunnel only I and a few others know of. We will proceed, on
foot and en-masse, to the place where they keep our sons and daughters, mothers
and fathers, captive.

“We
will do this thing, so the whole world sees us and knows our song. I know these
small humans; I think that this war against us is a private thing, something
clandestine and kept secret.”

The
king rose upright on frail legs and screamed, “We will be a secret no more!
Tomorrow, we march south!”

***

Later
that evening, the sasquatches held an impromptu celebration. Although every one
of them, male and female alike, knew that their time on this earth might be
coming to an end with their emergence into the land of men, there was always
time to celebrate the birth of new life into the tribe.

After
Onio made his way back to the family fire, saw the look of wonder and profound
joy on his wife’s face, and was told the news of her pregnancy, he threw his
head back and howled with triumph. Within moments, every sasquatch there joined
in his celebratory cry.

New
Moon offered additional sips of Fire Root tea, and after a whispered
consultation with the healers, a tiny spoonful of the powerful brew was offered
to Melody as well. To her credit, although the liquid smelled foul and tasted
worse, she drank it down with a smile. The tea suffused her body with warmth
and seemed to settle in her womb. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat.
What
if it hurts the baby?
she wondered, frantically.

 Then,
for a moment, she thought she saw a little boy. He was maybe eight or nine
years old, tall with long, light brown hair. He ran through a field of red and
orange flowers and his beautiful sea green eyes glowed with love and laughter
as he brought her a bouquet. A little girl trailed him, bawling with
frustration at being left behind. The girl’s hair was darker and her eyes were
as green as emeralds. As Melody watched, dazzled, Onio stooped down and picked
his daughter up, swirling her around and around, laughing in delight.

Then
she blinked her eyes and the image was gone. She stared up at her husband and
saw the pride in his mossy green eyes. She saw hope as well. Melody didn’t know
if this was an image from the future, or merely a personification of her hopes
and dreams, but she knew in that instant she would protect and adore those
children with every fiber of her being.

Chapter 34

Three
men huddled around a smoky fire that reeked of creosote. It was 1:47 in the
morning and they had met there, in an abandoned industrial complex in El Paso,
Texas, in order to avoid the last-call patrons that would be streaming out of
the closest watering holes within the next few minutes. They had found that, although
in some ways they were kings within their own dark domain, they were often
viewed as easy prey in the flickering neon landscape of the inebriated.

Skinny
Lenny, an ex-heroine user turned alcoholic, led the group. He was intelligent,
cunning and, in his own way, protective of his motley crew of outcasts. He was
once a sound technician for an up and coming rock and roll band, but one too
many scores busted him financially and placed him in detox for a year. He tried
for three years after that to score a gig, but all those doors were closed to
him now. Unlike the good times in the late ‘80s and ‘90s, the rock and roll
industry didn’t welcome the drug culture as much as it once did.

Maurice,
a huge, hulking black man, was his silent lieutenant. Maurice had once been a
tackle for the Dallas Cowboys until his bell was rung once too often. An
enormous and vicious guard for the San Diego Chargers had hit Maurie so hard,
helmet-to-helmet, that when he finally woke up from his concussion, twenty days
after the foul hit, he had forgotten his name, lost his contract, his beautiful
trophy wife, and every dime he owned. He also lost his power of speech. The
only thing he did remember to do was work out, which he did regularly. The
silent man was Lenny’s bodyguard now and seemed happy enough to play that part,
and to play it with the dumb devotion of a well-trained guard dog.

Emmanuel
Gonzales, or Twitch, was once a narco-cop for the Dallas police department. Like
so many before him, however, he had become addicted to the very substance he
tried so hard to stop from crossing the U.S. border. He had fought against the
blind need for years but, finally, when he was caught stealing heroin from the
acquisition department in his local precinct, his years of good and loyal service
ended in termination and the loss of all his benefits. His wife took their four
children and went back home to Mexico City, and he slunk quietly into the
nether world of drug addiction.

The
men had met two years ago and formed a friendship based on need and mutual
protection. Although their personal demons were mostly exorcised by now, they
no longer felt the need or the ability to mingle in polite society. They were a
part of the darker fabric of human existence now, and comfortable within that
weave.

The
men sat together, quietly sharing a filched package of baloney and a bag of
stale candy corn for dessert, when Lenny heard a strange and unexpected sound. It
was the sound of concrete scraping against concrete, slowly and with purpose. It
brought chills to his spine because usually, this meant that gangs were moving
against one another and using the underground tunnels to reconnoiter.

Lenny
wanted nothing to do with another dust-up between the “Kings” and the “Aztecas,”
so he stood up slowly and hissed, “Listen you guys, we gotta go.” Then, his
mouth fell open in shock.

He
saw the manhole cover come to a rest by the side of a sewer entrance and he
expected to see a number of dark, human shapes seething out of the hole, but
instead he saw a huge, shaggy head poke up from the ground level and look
around. Lenny was not stoned and he wasn’t very drunk, but he shook his head
violently anyway, thinking that maybe the long years of MD 20-20 and brown
horse were finally catching up to him.

A
flickering sodium lamp illuminated the weed choked, broken asphalt of the old
industrial park and clearly showed a steady stream of gigantic, hairy monsters
pouring out from the manhole. Lenny felt a large, warm hand clasp his shoulder
and he jumped. It was Maurie, who stood staring at the creatures with a
dumbstruck grin on his wide, still handsome face. He grasped his friend’s
shoulder with one hand and pointed with the other, eyes open wide, his teeth
bared in wonder and delight.