John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

What A Strange World We're In

He stood inside looking around with a hand still touching the doorway's edge. It was hotter, much hotter and damp. There was a pervasive smell in the air. John breathed in and made a face. It was not horrific, just not pleasant. He knew he had smelled that pungent smell before but was unable to place it. 

"Grandpa's old cigar ashtray!"he muttered, having suddenly remembered. Most of the trees had been stripped of their leaves and many of them were charred from what he guessed were years of constant fires. The most significant difference was the lighting. It was muted and insufficient. The best way to describe it was that it had that cold, harsh, one lone bare bulb glare to it. Everywhere. It was as if the sun had been replaced with a single refrigerator bulb hanging from a frayed and gnarled wire. And there were bugs. Lots and lots of creepy, crawly bugs. It was the gray sameness of the landscape that made him realize finding his way in would be tricky and he needed to begin leaving some Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs should he need to find his way back. He decided snapping a twig on each charred branch creating contrast of the black char against the inside exposed wood would be the easiest to spot on the way back. 

He set off ahead in a slightly downward direction snapping a twig every 20 steps or so. He looked up to see if he could determine the position of the sun for further direction but there was none. He noticed that where the sky should have been, was the other reality's jungle floor above him. He had entered a different plane that was now below reality instead of above it and he could physically feel it. There was a monotony of sameness, a  lack of detail that added to the inexplicable pall while trekking forward. The heat, the humidity, the pressure... It was oppressive. 

He became aware that his exposure to that environment was beginning to affect his mood. John could feel himself slipping into an anxious, angry frame of mind and he began to consciously work against it.He knew he had to move quickly. He felt as if there was some sort of expiration date on his existence just by being there. He became more determined and more focused on what he had come to do. Find his mother, find Heylia and get out.

Not long into his hike he came across the first signs of life. It was not what he expected- houses or buildings of some kind but rather large, worn spots on the ground. He had come across a den where the Nephilim had slept. Scattered about were food scraps and crudely fashioned tools. He slipped behind a tree, held his breath, and listened. Whoever had been there had moved on and once again John cautiously continued down the trail. As he rounded the corner, he saw the first signs of an encampment. There was a fire pit with several crudely fashioned huts surrounding it. He could hear movement and once again slid behind a large rubber plant. He looked beyond the encampment and noticed other groupings of huts scattered throughout the area. He could hear voices, but they were higher in register. It was the voices of women. Lots of women. There was no sign of Nephs anywhere.

"Where are the guards," he thought. 

After several minutes of observation, he decided to approach the hut that was closest to him. He hastily crept towards the back when he noticed that each step closer had become harder and harder. Each step required greater effort than the last. He stuck his arms out as if to test the air in front of him and it too required a greater than usual effort. It was like entering a pool. The deeper he got, the harder it was. Although he could see nothing, it began to feel as if he were swimming in molasses and to go any further might result in being completely stuck and unable to free himself. He backed up to where he was still able to maneuver and caught his first glimpse of life- a head full of auburn hair.

"Hey! he whispered. 

She didn't acknowledge him, so he called out a bit louder. 

"Hey!" Still no response. "Hey!! Nothing. "Pssssst!"

Suddenly she turned. She looked right at him but still didn't see him.

"Over here!" he shouted. She appeared to look in his direction but looked right through him. In his frustration he over exaggerated his call. 

"PSSSSSSSSSST!!" She looked at him, her eyes grew wide in astonishment and an enormous smile spread across her face. He was able to freely walk towards her. He tried it again. 

"Pssst!" 

She ran towards him excitedly jabbering in Bislama. And then it dawned on him. The mysterious, mechanical hissing sound the villagers had made when he first entered the interior had a purpose. Its purpose was to clear a path allowing him access to the interior and now it was effectively clearing a path through this invisible, organic, semi-permeable boundary wall that surrounded their encampment. If the prison walls were so easily breached, why hadn't the women taken it upon themselves to escape? The answer would be found in the curious jars hanging from nearly every tree surrounding the perimeter. Filled with little white stones, the clear glass jars served as reminders to not even attempt an escape because the little white stones were not stones at all. They were teeth. Their teeth. 

It was standard operating procedure for new arrivals. As a precaution, the Nephs would remove most of the teeth of the women held captive. Its purpose was twofold. First, it denied the women of the only weapon available to them. It made the frequent forced mating less hazardous for the giants and secondly, it made it impossible for them to create the hissing sound that defeated the imprisoning barrier wall, making it virtually impossible for them to escape. She was middle aged, a little lighter skinned than some of the other tribespeople with features more Anglo than most. To his dismay, as John drew closer, he realized her expression was less of happiness and more of crazy. Up close her eyes were wild. She was physically standing in front of him, but it grew apparent that mentally, she had long since checked out, retreating into her own safe and secure world of denial.

"Where are the others?" he asked. "I'm looking for a little girl and-" 

His sentence was cut short by a stifled scream coming somewhere in a lone bure' nestled between two distant rubber trees. John immediately turned. First towards the sound and then back at his newfound friend. Her crazed, near toothless smile changed ever so briefly to that of fear but quickly returned to that vapid, distant gaze and overly exaggerated smile. She began to slowly walk away, retreating into the opposite direction of where the sound had come from. John looked back and began running towards this new distress signal.