Until Forever (1st draft)

Part the Thirteenth

One of the countless strange sounds that permeated the night woke Geneva. She sat and listened for a while, uneasy about how exposed they were. Back home there was a park not far from their townhouse, and sometimes when her mother was exhausted from the chemo Geneva would sneak out and spend the night there. It was always difficult to sleep because her senses were so heightened at the thought of spiders and snakes and animals and unpredictable people who wander in parks in the middle of the night. But it helped her get away from the sight of her weakened mother, to cleanse her nostrils from the smell of death's lurking presence, always rudely waiting nearby. Those experiences certainly helped her cope with the fear of sleeping outdoors here with Steekbunk. Yet despite that, nothing was familiar in this new world. Not a single sound or smell or creature. She was constantly on edge, particularly now, so soon after the attack of the Monkey Hawks. For a moment she longed for the familiarity of home. Then the sickness that always accompanied thoughts of home returned to her stomach and the feeling was quickly gone.

She sat up and looked at the still, rounded shape of Steekbunk Lowbone, undeniably the strangest being she had ever encountered. How would she ever explain him to anybody back home? What was he? He was freakish, but she was no longer afraid of him, despite his menacing barbed horn. He clearly meant her no harm. He definitely was committed to keeping her safe.

But why? What was his purpose? Why should he care what happens to her? And would he really die for her? Actually, now that she thought about it again, she remembered that he had said he would die because of her. Hopefully he was just being overly dramatic at the time; she couldn't bear the thought of somebody dying because of her.

He snorted, smacked his lips, and rolled over so that he was facing her. Her vision was slowly adapting to the darkness and she could see that his eyes were still closed. A thick strand of drool oozed from the corner of his ridiculously wide mouth, tormenting her as it bobbed in midair. Her lip curled in disgust. She reached to her side and found a thin little stick, then used it to snag the strand and pull it away from his mouth. She tossed it away with a shudder.

"Gross," she muttered.

Why did he have so many secrets? He was certainly confident in what he felt needed to be done, and he was very determined to help her "fulfill her destiny," so clearly he knew much more than he was sharing. Why not simply tell her where they were going, what he was planning, why it was dangerous, and who it was that he saw as enemies? She was so frustrated about not getting answers. It was overwhelming enough waking up in a world of perpetual madness, why must somebody who has at least some of the answers keep them from her!

She clenched both fists. No, it was more than frustrating; it made her so damn angry. She found herself suddenly fuming again, gritting her teeth until it made her bruised cheekbone hurt. So many things made her angry at this little freak.

But it wasn't really about him, was it? She wasn't really mad at him all the time. She was simply mad all the time. She realized that now.

Another strange noise made her heart jump. It sounded like an owl laughing hysterically and her anger took a back seat to fear. Steekbunk's eyes flickered open.

"You are not sleeping," he said quietly.

"Nope," she replied.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

"No I'm fine," she answered. "I don't really sleep a lot, especially in the middle of the woods after being attacked by flying monkeys that call me meat. It's kind of a pet peeve of mine."

"I do not understand," he said.

Geneva chuckled. "I know you don't, Steekbunk. That's okay. I feel much better since I ate that moss. It smelled like crap but you were right, it helped." She smiled at him. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome."

"Now go back to sleep," she told him, before lying down on her back with a long sigh. She was lost in a nightmare, swept up in a sequence of events beyond her control, trapped in a world beyond her explanation. She had lost her will once before and with all that she was facing now it seemed likely to happen again. The same crushing sorrow that stole her purpose and hope, that imprisoned her in a shrinking black hole of negativity, that drove her beyond despair, was still looming. Yet something had changed, albeit only a minor and perhaps temporary change. Something now occupied her subconscious just enough to motivate her to continue getting up in the mornings, to spur her to follow the bizarre hairy egg-man, to make her once again fear the threat of death.

Was it a profound fascination with the world of Daysheen? Was it the nagging curiosity of her so-called destiny? Was it the haunting attraction of silvery eyes?

She might never know. But for now she decided to close her eyes and go back to sleep, and then to get up again in the morning and see what insanity the new day had planned for a surprise party.