Authors: Brian Keene
“Then, I do not see why it is considered wrong that you noticed
your physical attraction to me first.”
“Well, there are a lot of people back on Earth who would disagree
with you.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Yours is a strange
world, Aaron Pace. The more you tell me of it, the more I am certain that I
would not want to visit there. I am puzzled that you miss it.”
“The longer I stay here, the less I miss it,” I admitted,
smiling. “Although I could do without things like the tikka–birds and the
Anunnaki.”
Kasheena returned my smile. “As could I.”
She led us onward. My injured leg pained me somewhat, but I was
able to keep pace with the others. I noticed that Bloop seemed to be moving
somewhat slower, as well. He didn’t seem lethargic or less agile. Just…tired.
We all were.
We’d gone perhaps another mile or two when we came across an area
where the treetops were thin. Vast, dense undergrowth filled this part of the
forest, but the shrubs, weeds, and smaller trees had recently been trampled
underfoot. Judging by the scope of the devastation, whatever had passed this
way had been large in size.
Bloop soon discovered a series of footprints among the tramped
down vegetation and motioned for us to come look at them. Crouched on his
haunches, he hooted softly. I assumed he knew what type of animal they belonged
to, judging by his behavior. I had no such luxury. Despite all those years
spent hunting and exploring Minnesota’s woodlands, I’d never seen footprints
like these. They were a distinct reminder of my situation. Each track was roughly
the size of a dinner plate and had four large, stubby toes. I saw no sign that
the toes were equipped with talons or claws, but given the depth of the
impressions, the creature had to weigh a considerable sum. It must have had an
equally impressive stride, given the distance and spacing between each imprint.
“Do you have any idea what type of animal made these?” I asked
Kasheena.
She shrugged and shook her head. “No, but I think Bloop might.”
“Yeah, I had that impression, too.”
Bloop turned to look at us, pointed at the tracks, and said, “Bloop!”
“Is it dangerous?” I asked, hoping he’d understand my intent, if
not my actual words.
“Bloop.” His tone was affirmative.
“We must be cautious,” Kasheena whispered as we started our trek
again. “Whatever this creature is, those tracks are fresh. It could still be
about.”
As we pressed forward, the forest slowly receded, giving way to a
woodland that wasn’t so densely packed with trees and undergrowth. This
landscape, in turn, changed into a series of rolling, grass–covered hills with
only a few trees growing upon each.
“These are the grasslands I spoke of,” Kasheena said. “We are
very near my home.”
I felt a vague sense of unease, but couldn’t determine why. A
light breeze brushed over my skin, cooling my sweat. I glanced up at the sky,
but all seemed normal. It was blue and cloudless, and the sun remained
stationary. A few birds flew overhead, and a family of Slukicks chattered from
a nearby treetop.
I turned my attention to the grasslands spread out before us. The
blades were thick like cornstalks and reached far over our heads, bending
slightly at the top. They swayed gently in the breeze, making a soft rustling
sound.
“This grass isn’t the kind that attacks people, is it?”
Kasheena laughed. “No, Aaron. It is just grass.”
“That’s good.”
“It is the things that hide within the grass that attack people.
So, we must be on our guard.”
Approximately one–hundred yards to our right was a swath of grass
that had been flattened. It reminded me of the pictures of crop circles from
back home, but rather than taking on an elaborate geometric shape, the path of
crushed grass merely led forward in a seemingly straight line. The swath was
perhaps a little wider than an automobile. When we investigated it closer, we
saw a few more of the odd footprints in various places where the beast had
crushed the stalks into the dirt. There were also two massive piles of
droppings, and the spoor looked and smelled fresh. Only a few insects flitted
about them, indicating to me that the feces hadn’t been there long.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“We follow the path,” Kasheena said. “It will make our passage
that much easier. We are nearing the Temple of the Slug, and my village is
beyond that. With this path, we will save much time.”
“I’m not so sure about this.”
“You have misgivings, Aaron?”
“Yes, I do. I understand we’re close to your home, and I’m
sympathetic to the fact that you want to hurry, but consider this. If there are
more Anunnaki on our trail—and we have to believe there are, given their previous
tenacity—then this tall grass makes for a perfect ambush. They could be waiting
in there, and we’d never know it until it was too late.”
“Which is why we should follow the path,” Kasheena insisted. “It
is broad enough for all three of us to walk side–by–side. It will be harder for
the Anunnaki to surprise us.”
She strode into the field, following the trail of crushed grass.
Bloop loped along beside her. After a moment, I reluctantly hurried to join
them. We ventured deeper into the grassland, up and down the small, rocky
hills. The terrain was treacherous. Craggy stones jutted from the dirt and
rodent–holes dotted the hillsides, both providing plenty of half–hidden
obstacles to stumble over. The vegetation grew so high that it was impossible
to see anything on either side of us, even from atop higher ground. I
considered climbing one of the sparse, stunted trees in an effort to survey our
surroundings, but Kasheena vetoed that idea.
“The sap of those trees is unpleasant,” she warned. “You see how
no birds or other creatures nest within their limbs? That is because the sap
causes your skin to burn and blister. A grove of trees like these grows near my
village. My people sometimes use the sap to coat our weapons before battle.”
“Is it enough to kill a person?” I asked.
“No, but it is enough to make one wish they were dead. The burns
are very painful and the blisters never heal well. They leave scars.”
I eyed the trees warily. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Of course. I like your face and hands the way they are, Aaron.
They are pleasing to me. I would not want to see them disfigured.”
“Neither would I.”
We’d continued on, following the path through the grass for a
while longer, when we heard a terrible sound—a loud, baritone moan of anguish,
followed by another. We stopped where we were, listening fearfully, and a third
cry came. Whatever was making that awful sound seemed to be directly ahead of
us, concealed just over a hilltop. I glanced at my companions, but could tell
by their expressions that the noise was just as alien to them as it was to me.
Crouching on all fours, I began to crawl forward, sinking low enough to the
ground that my stomach scraped against the rocks. Bloop and Kasheena did the
same, and together, we crept up the hill. Upon reaching the top, we heard a
ponderous, labored panting from below. We slowly peered over the side and our
eyes grew wide. Beside me, Kasheena gasped.
“Bloop,” Bloop whispered. His tone was reverent.
At the bottom of the hill, lying amidst a circle of crushed
grass, was a female creature the size of an elephant. Indeed, at first glance I
thought it was an elephant, as she bore the same hide, colorings, ears, tail,
and bulk of the elephants back home. But she differed in one shockingly
distinct way from anything familiar on Earth. Instead of one singular trunk,
the beast had a cluster of eight hairy trunk–like tentacles surrounding its
mouth. They weren’t lined with suckers, the way an octopus’ or squid’s
tentacles were. Instead, they simply seemed to be additional trunks, each one
capable of performing individual tasks. My breath caught in my throat as I
realized what I was looking at—the fabled octophant of occult legend, a
creature consigned to the same catalogue as unicorns, griffins, dragons, and
other mythical beasts. Yet here it was, a fairy tale made flesh.
And she was making flesh of her own, as well.
The octophant let out another great bellow of anguish and
convulsed. At first, I couldn’t figure out what was causing her such distress.
Her teats looked painfully swollen, but that didn’t seem to be enough to cause
such a commotion. Then, with a start, I realized that she was giving birth. The
grass around her was wet with fluid, and she was extremely dilated. As we
watched, another shudder ran through her great grey bulk.
“What can we do?” I whispered. “How can we help her?”
“We do not,” Kasheena replied. “This is part of nature. It
happens every day, and without humans around to aid the process. The only thing
we must do is be mindful not to disturb her.”
I nodded in agreement, and then glanced at Bloop. He seemed to
understand, as well.
We clustered together, watching in amazement for the next twenty
minutes or so, while the octophant gave birth. I longed for the binoculars the
Anunnaki had stolen from us. At one point, my eyes grew blurry, and I
discovered that I’d been crying without even knowing it. When I saw gummy fluid
streaking the fur on Bloop’s face, I realized that he was crying, as well. My
heart went out to the beast. I wanted so desperately to help her as she
struggled, but I knew that Kasheena was right. That didn’t make it any easier,
though.
Eventually, with one tremendous final push and a cry that echoed
across the field, the mother octophant delivered her baby onto the wet grass.
It was pink and grey and glistened in the sunlight. Panting, the mother cleared
the newborn’s face and multiple trunks so that it could breathe, and then
nuzzled the infant gently. Kasheena, Bloop, and I clasped at one another in joy
and wonder as the newborn squealed.
We watched for a few minutes longer, enraptured by the sight as
the mother used her tentacle–trunks and tongue to finish cleaning the baby. The
newborn mewled and cooed, and my heart pounded at the sound. It tried to crawl
away, testing its legs, but the mother was having none of that. When she pulled
it close and the infant began to nurse, Kasheena tapped Bloop and I on the
shoulder and motioned for us to follow her. We did, cautiously creeping
backward so as not to disturb the creatures. When we’d reached a safe distance
away, and were concealed once again in the high grass off the path, we stood
smiling at one another.
“That was incredible,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like
it.”
“It was indeed wonderful,” Kasheena agreed. “I must tell my
father of it when we reach my village.”
Bloop grunted at us both, and then crouched, brushing the grass
away to expose a patch of soil. After ensuring that he had our attention, he
used one of his talons to draw a crude series of figures in the dirt. Two of
them were obviously the mother and baby octophants. The third was also an
octophant, but much bigger than the other two, and possessing tusks in addition
to the eight tentacles. I understood his meaning right away.
“The daddy octophant,” I said. “Of course. We should probably
head out of here.”
“But we did not see a mate,” Kasheena said.
“No, but Bloop seems to have some experience with these animals.
If he thinks the father is lurking around, then we should make ourselves
scarce. The last thing we want is a creature that size mistaking us for a
threat to his family.”
“Very well,” Kasheena said. “We will—”
Something whistled through the air, and Bloop roared in pain. He
clutched his left thigh. I glanced down and saw an arrow shaft protruding from
it. More arrows rained down upon us, embedding themselves in the dirt or
snapping against the rocks.
“Get down,” I shouted, pulling my sword.
Then the smell reached us—that now all–too–familiar reptilian
odor that signaled the arrival of the Anunnaki.
Kasheena had readied her weapon, as well. She crouched above
Bloop, scanning the high grass for movement, while he rolled around on the
ground in pain. He’d drawn his injured leg up and was grasping feebly at the
arrow shaft with blood–slicked fingers. I crawled over to them and grabbed his
furry wrist.
“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t pull it out. Not yet. We need to
get you somewhere safer first.”
Growling, Bloop bared his fangs at me. I drew my hand away,
afraid he would bite me, and he reached for the arrow again. This time, I restrained
him more forcefully.
“No, Bloop. If you pull that out now you could bleed to death!
Just stay down.”
He gritted his teeth, but made no move to attack me. Instead, he
whined in pain. The grass rustled around us.
“On your feet, Aaron,” Kasheena said. “Something is coming!”
I jumped up and stood with my back to hers.
“Here.” She handed me her pistol. “I prefer both hands to wield
my sword.”
Nodding, I quickly checked the chambers. I wasn’t familiar with
the model or the caliber, and the weapon’s markings were in a strange language
that I didn’t recognize, but I saw there were three bullets left. I gripped the
gun in one hand and my sword in the other. The reptile smell grew stronger. It
seemed to be coming from all around us.
Bloop thrashed in the grass, obviously agonized and in shock. The
sight filled me with rage. The air felt charged, like before a thunderstorm. My
pulse pounded in my ears.
Kasheena and I moved together in a slow circle. All around us
there was movement as something rushed toward us through the grass. Seconds
later, the vegetation parted and nine Anunnaki emerged and attacked. Two of
them were armed with bows and lingered behind the rest. The others displayed an
assortment of weapons—axes and swords and knives. I was grateful to see no
firearms among this group, and even more grateful that I had one.