Transcending the Legacy (19 page)

My eyes are blurry and the faces pressed against the metallic glass of the truck are distorted. Only the alabaster skin and the obsidian orbs of Dweller occupied humans distinctly evident. They writhe, claw, snarl, and pound against the truck as I tuck Tessa’s face under my chin the best I can, saving her from seeing the scene around us. The truck jolts forward, picking up pace quickly. The colonists that have escaped the initial strike and run along side of our transport begin to fall behind as we speed out of the tunnel and into the world. I watch helplessly as they are plucked from their dead run by the human-thirsty Dwellers. Some are lifted and carried away into the woods. Some are taken right then and there. The transformation is instant once the Dwellers plunge into their marks. The colonists bodies retch as they fight to remain themselves; remain human. The Dwellers let them struggle for freedom, seemingly stimulated by the battling and thrashing victims, thrill of the hunt. The images bring rise to the burning bile in my throat, threatening to make its exit.

I close my eyes and force myself to swallow hard before it surfaces.
I look at Xander to my right, just as his wide and frightened viridian eyes meet mine. His visible fear makes mine rise to new heights. We both look away at the same time and I focus on the rain that has begun to streak the window panels. The few remaining Dwellers that have somehow kept pace with us slap the truck as they slip away and fall to the ground. Like the others, they don’t give up. They rise again and charge heedlessly. My eyes are drawn to the isolated peace the rain rhythmically pelting the windows brings and I stay in that moment as long as I can.

* * *

“Onawah!”

The same baritone call of the name alerts me that I am in a vision again. The warmth of tender lips resting on mine
, and the feel of hands holding my face tenderly manifests and fills me with warmth. The comforting lips and hands pull away suddenly and I watch the owner of the tenderness, the gentleman, stalk away toward the sound of the call.

It comes again, “Onawah!”

The voice this body possess responds to the yell, but it is not English. The girl starts to walk toward the voice following behind the soldier, her love. All of a sudden, he stops, turns, and stalks back to me. “We can’t go together. If he sees us together, they will know. Go before he comes to find you!” he whispers hurriedly.

He looks dow
n at my wrist and pulls the sleeve of my woven fibered blouse over it then commands, “Go!”

As I walk swiftly toward the heavy treed wood ahead of me, leaving behind the man that obviously holds this girl’s heart, so many questions rush through my mind. Was the love we shared not accepted by my tribe? Or has it just been kept secret?
Who is this man yelling my name? My father?

“Onawah!” The voice sounds urgent now and close, like right at the edge of the woods I am approaching. Suddenly an old man with white dish
eveled hair tears through the heavy trees, snatches my arm, and pulls me into the woods. I stiffen, frightened by his reaction and try to pull back, but his strength is unmatchable which is shocking for such an old man. He glares back at me with his amber eyes encircled with heavy wrinkles. The contrast between his startling eyes and dark, leathery skin is what jogs my memory. He is the shaman in my vision!

He speaks harshly in his native tongue, as he tugs me along by one hand through the woods.
I look back through the brush while I can to seek the gentleman, Onawah’s lover, but he has disappeared. He must have hidden. I look back ahead of me and see the shaman shaking his head from side to side as he continues to speak to me.

I say something back to him angrily in the same
native language and he releases me. He looks at me both startled and saddened by what I have said. He shakes his head slowly, then speaks tenderly in his native words. He is denying something, rejecting something. Did Onawah tell him about the man she loves? Did she tell him that she didn’t want to do the ritual?

Damn, I hate not knowing what is being said.

The shaman takes hold of my hand again
, but more gently now and pulls me along. I’m breathless as I let the sadness of what has been said take hold of me as it has the girl I am consumed with. The crushing of crisp leaves under foot fades into the slapping sound of softened, limp leaves. The sound of slushing water and the heaviness of my feet treading in it catch my attention. I look down at my moccasin covered feet and see the saturated earth, my feet settling into the mud as I walk on. Looking ahead, I see a mist-laden stream flowing where we are about to cross. The shaman let’s go of my hand and walks through the stream unfazed by the water that has soaked his moccasins and splashed against his deerskin pants. He turns just as I approach the stream and stretches his hand out to me. I stand there, looking from him to the stream before me.

This is the stream! This is the stream I saw beyond the veil just before I saw Orion’s belt
hovering high above the Etowah Mounds!

Agitated, the shaman speaks harshly
, saying my name and a chain of other foreign words. I reach out and as soon as I touch his outstretched hand, I hear a crash of thunder surround us.

The sound is the catalyst that induces the melting away of this divined reality into the earthly one I am whole in. Tessa’s arm is wrapped around my neck, her face still buried in the crook of my neck as she hiccups softly through her paling cry. Her other hand is holding mine tightly. I squeeze it and rest my lips against her soft hair.

I catch Ezra watching at me out of the corner of my eye. He mutters,
“Another vision?”

I nod and whisper, “That obvious?”

Ezra replies, “You were staring fixedly out the window even through the yelling.”

I question, “Yelling?”

“Jake was going to fire into the roof of the truck until Luke yelled for him to stop. Did you not hear that?” Ezra asks.

I shake my head, denying hearing anything and add, “I just the thunder.”

Tessa nuzzles against my neck and I rock from side to side hushing her softly. Ezra leans his head back against the window panel and stares at the ceiling. A calm starts to settle in the truck and I’m able to think back on the stinging slap Ezra gave me to move me into action back at the compound. I whisper, “I told you to never slap me again.”

Ezra doesn’t respond right away and I look over at him.

He doesn’t look at me as he responds quietly, “You needed it.”

I can’t disagree with that, but it still gets under my skin.

Ezra looks down at Tessa in my arms and adds, “She needed it.”

Tessa sighs, then hiccups through her whimpers. I stroke the back of her hair and shush her.

Ezra’s voice remains low as he asks,
“What happened in the vision?”

I think back on the scene. “The man is her lover, but I don’t think that the girl’s tribe approved or knew about
them. The shaman I have seen in my vision, the one Sebastian has seen, was there also. He was the one that called my name.”

Ezra’s eyes widen as he continues to talk quietly, “What did he say?”

“I couldn’t understand him. The girl and he were arguing in their native language. I think they were arguing about the man, or maybe about what the girl had to do; the ritual.”

Ezra tighten
s his lips over his teeth and runs his hand over his mouth before he looks at me sideways. “That it?”

It wasn’t. “
There was a stream that ran through the woods where he led me. It was in my vision beyond the veil too.”

Ezra
replies, “I have been to the mounds many times. There is a stream deep in the tree-line south of the mound site.”

I feel tension creep into my legs and stomach as he confirms that this
stream has significance.

The seat next to me jostles and I turn around in time to see Xander standing in the center
aisle holding something bundled under one arm and wobbling toward the front wall panel of the truck.

Ezra hisses, “Xander, sit down!”

Jake is closer to the front and tries to reach for him just as Xander wobbles near him. “What are you doing man?”

Xander shifts away from Jake before he can grab him, then reaches the wall of the front cab to gain his footing. He bangs on the panel with his fist and yells over the rain hammering the roof top of the truck, “We need to stop!”

No response.

Stop? He can’t be serious!

Daniel raises his voice, “For what? Listen to yourself! St
op out here in the middle of nowhere? What if we are swarmed by Dwellers again?”

Xander continues his tirade on the panel, “Briggs! Stop!”

Elisha and Siobhan look at me accusingly, like I can do something about his actions.

Xander’s yells stir Tessa in my arms.
I hold her to me and continue to rock her, but Nick takes notice and calls to Xander, gritting his teeth as he talks through them, “Dude, back off! Jes, just calmed Tessa down. You are only going to make things worse!”

Xander whips around to face Nick, “I need to dispose of somethi
ng or that little girl will be even more upset.”

Xander gestures to the bundle cradled under his arm.

What is bundled in his arms?

Careful not to wake Tessa, I look under the bench where the little Stella had
huddled next to Shiva; the pup is gone.

Xander
murmurs, “If that little girl sees it like this…she has lost too much already.”

Sebastian interrupts, “We don’t know if
Tom is dead, Xander.”

Xander looks at him with presumed confidence and whispers,
“He couldn’t have made it and you know it. That is enough death to break anyone, let alone a six year old little girl. I can at least spare her this pain.”

No one has a retort. This little girl in my arms has seen so much in her short life. Xander trying to keep her from seeing any more death is something I would do myself if I had seen the dead pup under my foot.

Xander turns and pounds once again on the panel, “Briggs! Stop the truck!”

Briggs opens the small hatch and bellows, “We just left a swarm of
Dwellers that have probably occupied more than half of those colonists, let alone my best friend and that little girl’s father! You want me to stop? You are an idiot, Xander!”

Xander doesn’t take to well to his comment. He slams his fist against the panel, denting the metal, then
growls, “Damn it Briggs!” He tries to control his voice level and hisses, “The pup!”

He holds up the small bundle that is tucked in his arm.
I can see Briggs’ furrowed eyebrows soften just a hair. He shuts the hatch without another word leaving Xander thinking he has been shunned. Xander hits the panel again, then returns back to the seat next to me. Suddenly, the truck jolts into a downshift. The truck slows then comes to a jerking stop.

The rain is still falling hard against the metal rooftop. Looking out through the rain streaked window, I see Ira and Lathan approaching just as Briggs gets out of the truck. Their muffled words are audible, “What is going on?”

Briggs comes to the back of the truck huffing, “Something about the pup.”

Everyone unlatches their safety belts and Monica, Luke, Sam, and Xander simultaneously draw their guns.
The movement and commotion in the truck wakes Tessa. I stand up with her in my arms and continue to stroke her hair to calm her back down, but she is awake. She leans back and looks around dizzily then at me.

Her voice is soft, “Hi.”

A little taken aback by the first word after what she had witnessed being “Hi” I reply, but watch her carefully. “Hi.”

She breathes in slowly, but shakily. She looks like she is on the verge of crying again
, when she quickly wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles her head against my shoulder.

I pull her to me and whisper,
“I’ve got you, Tessa.”

Her voice breaks and whines, “Thank you
, Jesca.”

Xander tucks the bundled shirt with the pup further under his arm and moves away from Tessa and I to avoid her noticing.
Nate stands and walks over to me, reaching his hands out to take Tessa. “Here let me take her for a while.”