Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny (10 page)

“One day,” he said, “this planet will be
revitalized. The grimmets will reclaim its wonder. And, hopefully,
we’ll be able to share that with them.”

Long ago, I accused the Paladin Nation of
kidnapping grimmets, bringing them back to Earth for selfish
reasons, convinced they intended to make a weapon of them or simply
display them like zoo animals. Even when the grimmets defeated the
duplicates, I assumed that to be a fluke. But now it seemed like an
act of compassion, an attempt to preserve their kind until their
home was saved.

Perhaps my trip was not just for the
wormhole, but to see some of the truly humane aspects of the
Paladin Nation.

Samuel dismissed me to return to my escorts
with a firm handshake and a warm smile. “You’re welcome to return
any time you wish. Trust me, the wormhole ride gets easier.”

I thanked him and left, but not before
noticing that he was still watching the growing cloud. I could feel
a slight tug in my gut, like something familiar was coming.

My goodbyes were short. Everyone waved in
passing, but life resumed in the Outpost. We walked through the
large docking doors into the hangar, the gray room that housed the
black wormhole ship where it was cold and sterile.

“In case you’re wondering, the trip back is
even worse,” Pepper said, patting my shoulder. Fadden laughed,
mentioned the room still smelled like puke.

I knew what he meant. Now that I knew what to
expect, my thoughts were making the anticipation of the trip worse.
Even so, there was a pleasant sensation tugging inside my belly and
it was getting stronger. I was sure someone would be waiting for me
at the ship. Someone I knew.

My backpack was sitting on the floor in front
of the doorway glowing on the ship. It was a little fuller than
when I arrived, filled with items from the Outpost to take
back.

“Come back if you’re bored.” Pepper extended
his hand as the sky seemed to dim. “You don’t get a waiting party
on your next visit so you’ll have to clean up your own barf.”

“Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand. “You’re
an excellent host,” I said, sarcastically.

“What can I say? By the way, you know when
you get back everyone will be about two weeks older. Time’s going a
little faster for them.”

I sensed a bit of sadness. Did he leave
anyone behind? No one was immune to homesickness.

“Well, I better get back before they forget
me,” I said.

Fadden slapped Pepper with the back of his
hand. He was looking up, mouth open. The top of the dome was a
couple hundred yards above us. Dark lumps could be seen squirming
on the opaque surface.

Fadden and Pepper shaded their eyes like that
could somehow clarify what they were seeing, but it was just
getting darker as more things dropped out of the sky, scratching
and clawing along the surface. The dome was too thick and far away
to hear anything, but the commotion was frenzied.

“Yeah?” Pepper touched his ear, listening to
a nojakk call. “Seriously? No, no. We see it over here, too.”

“Check this out.” Fadden was squatting on his
haunches in front of a thin silver sheet spread out on the floor
projecting a three-dimensional image.

It was an aerial image of the Outpost from
far up. Thousands of brightly colored things were crawling over it.
Grimmets.
And more were coming. Floating lights kicked on. I
looked up at the thick layer of grimmets obscuring every bit of
sunlight.

Pepper and Fadden looked at me. They’d never
seen anything like it. No one had. Every grimmet within range of
the Outpost was coming.
They can feel me.
And I could feel
them tugging at my insides, connecting with their energy, their
unlimited essence, bonding to me like the grimmets back on
Earth.

Strangely, though, I felt they were
connecting with something else, like I carried something inside me,
something dense. Maybe they came because of that.

What’s inside me?

The ship welcomed me with its impatient hum.
I could see through its invisible walls, once again. Pepper and
Fadden waited far away from the ship. They didn’t bother waving.
Didn’t seem concerned about the white-blue light that crackled
behind me, illuminating their faces. They’d seen the wormhole open
inside the Outpost too many times to be amazed. I stayed still, not
wanting to see it swallow me. Braced for impact.

My teeth snapped together, just missed
clipping my tongue. I was pulled into oblivion, once again, with my
mind focused on home, guiding the ship back to the warm life that
waited with familiar surroundings and loving friends and
family.

The black nothingness of the moment was
peaceful. It didn’t feel like I was moving, but I sensed home was
near. My destination began to pull me back into existence, like my
body had been evaporated and was being reconstructed inside Earth’s
atmosphere somewhere over the Preserve. I sensed oncoming pain.

I was jerked in another direction like a fish
snagged with a treble hook.

I went back into the black peaceful oblivion,
but home felt like it was far behind. But then I felt my body
again, reassembling somewhere near the planet. And then there was
the excruciating agony as my awareness squeezing back into it.

My eyes were clenched as tightly as my jaw. I
was mostly numb, again, but felt water slosh around me.

I moved my arms in a swimming motion, unaware
if I was below water or not. My lungs burned. I opened my eyes, the
salty water stinging. Panic propelled me upward but I was too
heavy. My arms were like useless poles. I desperately kicked and
barely broke the surface, inhaling just enough air to relieve the
fire in my chest. But I sank again.

There was no chance of getting back up, but
fortunately I hit the sandy bottom. I pushed upward, this time
clearing my entire chest above the water. One deep gulp of air and
I let myself sink again. I pushed off at an angle but found the
water getting deeper, so I turned around, jumping again and
again.

Finally, I stood on my toes and gulped air.
My heart was slamming. I took feeble steps and slowly walked into
shallower water.

A sandy beach was ahead. The full moon was
bright in a clear night sky. I missed my landing. But I had no idea
by how much.

Something flushed out of my body, like a plug
had been pulled and drained molten metal weighing in my veins. I
was light as driftwood. The water around me turned cloudy. I rubbed
my eyes and looked again. The milky cloud drifted deeper and spread
out like an oil slick.

When I reached dry sand, I dropped to my
knees. Exhausted. I was catching my breath, the air cool and humid.
Seawater dripped off my nose, over my lips. It tasted odd. It was
salty, but there was something else, something familiar. Something
that usually wasn’t associated with ocean water, but I couldn’t
place it.

There was no sign of civilization. Just
endless water, sand and tropical trees. This was bad. It could’ve
been worse. The north pole. Or the sun.

I tapped my cheek, got no response from my
nojakk. Not even a tick, tick, tick. I dug through my backpack,
activated a handheld phone but it was non-responsive, too. The same
with a homing beacon. Everything, dead.

Maybe an electromagnetic pulse killed
everything upon entry. Something went wrong right before I got
home, I felt it jerk me around. Maybe the ship malfunctioned and
dumped me in the ocean. At least it didn’t drop another twenty feet
out to sea or I’d be stuck to the bottom like an anchor.

My suit had already dried. I sat down in the
sand, leaned back against a tree.
What now? Surely, the Paladins
knew I was coming back. They would eventually search for me. But if
I didn’t have power to signal them, how would they find me?

The waves were small, sloshing onto the beach
in a steady rhythm. I closed my eyes, listening to the ocean go in
and out. In and out.

It lulled me to relax, but something was
missing. Everything felt so… so empty. Like an environment in my
office where nothing was real. But I couldn’t sense any walls. I
considered, for a second, that I was in my office. But I could
always sense the confines of a moldable environment, sense the
walls of a room even though it looked endless. The beach had no
such limitation. It just felt empty.

Maybe I imagined it. I was tired.

The waves greeted me gently. I imagined I was
floating in the water, warm and cozy. But then I opened my eyes and
stared at coconuts. My survival suit was warm but the cool air was
nipping at my ears and the tip of my nose. I sat up and rubbed my
face. My eyes were heavy with sleep. I couldn’t remember laying
down. The moon hung just above the horizon. It felt like I’d been
asleep for hours, but everything looked the same. And not a single
bug bite.

It was quiet in the trees. Too quiet. The
only thing that broke the silence was the ocean, but everything
else was as still as a museum. No breeze from above, no drifting
leaves or scuttle of a crab. Absolute stillness.

The backpack contained small packets of food.
If that ran out, there was a supply of lifepatches that could
sustain me for another six months. If I hunt and gather, I could
survive for much longer.

The forest looked dense and dark. It would
take a long, sharp machete to cut through it. Since there was no
such thing in the backpack, I walked along the beach looking for a
path. But after a few miles, everything still looked exactly the
same. In fact, even the trees appeared in some sort of pattern. Up
ahead was a palm that leaned and curved skyward. I turned back,
swore I passed one like that a few miles back.

Just beyond that was a small opening that
gave way to a narrow path. That wasn’t there before. I looked out
over the water one last time. The night sky looked black and
smudged just above the horizon, like ink was leeching up from the
water.

I had pulled small box from the backpack and
let it unfold into a tent. I lay inside it, staring through the
dome-shaped ceiling. I couldn’t see the sky through the trees. The
moonlight filtered through the leaves like pale sunlight. I had
walked for what seemed a full day and expected the sun to come up,
but I was exhausted and couldn’t wait for it any longer.

The forest was endless and repetitive. The
path continued to wind through it like something or someone walked
it often enough to beat down the vegetation, but there was no sign
of life. Nothing. No spider webs or mosquitoes or stinging
ants.

It was still cool, but humid as ever. I
sweated through much of my water reserves and there wasn’t much
left in the backpack. I needed to find some before long.

I woke when a single drop of water struck the
tent.

The raindrop jiggled, then slowly made its
way down the side, racing to the bottom. Something about that was
strange, then I realized that was the first sound in a day that I
hadn’t directly caused.

It was darker outside. Maybe clouds had
dimmed the moonlight.
Wait. Did I sleep through another
day?

I felt rested, like I’d gotten another eight
hours of sleep but it was still night. Was I sleeping right through
the daylight?

Maybe it was for the best. I didn’t need to
be moving around in the heat of the day. I was already parched.

Another day of hiking. Still no sunlight.

I don’t know how far I got. Thirty miles,
maybe. The last ten miles were like wearing concrete blocks.
Raindrops continued to find a way through the thick canopy. My lips
were cracking and I’d stopped sweating. I finished the rest of my
water.

I sat against a tree.

Thunder clapped.

I woke in a thick mass of groundcover. No
tent. I must’ve fallen over asleep.

Rain dripped through a fern leaf, splashing
on my forehead. I stuck out my tongue, caught the next drop. And
the next.

They were plopping throughout the forest with
a regular beat. I scrambled on my hands and knees and found a large
leaf holding a pool of water. Carefully, I cupped it and tilted it
toward my mouth. It was wet, tasteless. Just like water was suppose
to taste. If this was some sort of moldable environment, I wouldn’t
be able to drink it.

The lifepatches kept me from dehydrating, but
water was a better alternative, so I spent the next couple hours
going leaf to leaf, scavenging what I could.

The path continued to curve through the
otherwise impenetrable forest. It seemed endless and pointless, but
it had to lead somewhere. Something made this path. Maybe I
should’ve stayed on the beach. At least a search party would see me
there. Nothing would spot me through the trees. Too late now. I
just had to keep going until I got out or found someone that could
help.

I only managed an hour on the trail before I
had to rest. I was drained. And sleepy. These were tough
conditions, but this was unusual. I shouldn’t be gassing out this
quick. It was like something was sucking the energy out of me;
reminded me of the Grimmet Outpost.
Like something just sucked
the life out of it.

I slapped another lifepatch on my neck, felt
it pump essential nutrients into my jugular. Thunder rumbled
somewhere in the distance. I remembered something my grandma used
to tell me about storms. She said when it thundered, the angels
were wrestling.

The ground began to tremor like they’d fallen
out of the sky.

Maybe it was the third night that I saw the
end.

The winding path straightened out and
widened. There was an opening in the trees. I quickened my pace,
eager to find something. The trees ended abruptly, like a wall, and
the path dropped down a steep slope. I stood just inside the
canopy, mesmerized by the view. Hills rolled off into the distance
covered in tufts of grass. Mountains were farther out.