Chapter 25: Event Horizon — Part 8

Hello? Her thought was strong, reaching out across the planet, seeking anybody who could respond.

Hello! Hello! Hello! The wind answered her.

The wind whipped her along, bouncing her across the surface. She was thrown across the land, until she stood over a great abyss with water boiling deep within its maw. The wind urged her on.

What’s this? Laura asked.

Hello. You still here? It was a Great Lake, until the land cracked open. The Wind hummed in her head, scattered, sounding like the echo of a thousand souls working together to make every word.

The wind pushed her on. The climate grew cooler, and she could sense life ahead of her. A single tree, its trunk blackened by intense heat, its leaves singed from its branches, struggled to stay alive. The wind circled it, sparking its branches with every touch. The tree screamed in the wind as the fire tickled its bark.

Shit, I’m on Earth. Laura thought to herself.

The wind set the tree ablaze. Your past has brought you here. Move on, tree. You’ll find no hope.

The wind tore her loose and dragged her to an even cooler climate. Life abounded, wild and poisoned. It was nothing like anything ever meant to grow.

The edge . . . Something whispered to her, drawing out the last word.

Trees, twisted and alive, but as hopeless as the dying tree had been, reached up to gather what light they could from a nearly sunless sky. Most days, only the dull glow of radioactive dust and the distant heat of molten lava fed their distorted leaves. Some leaves were little more than green blobs at the end of twisted stems. Roots reached into the sky and into the ground, gathering water and nutrients, perverted by whatever had torn this part of the world open.

A horrendous white ant with warped and twisted antenna crawled from under the shadows. The size of Laura’s forearm, it tore at thorns longer than Laura’s leg. A massive sloth with too many fingers and no fur, exposed its genitals to her and chortled. It had one too many testicles. She ignored its perversity, and looked instead for the true forms of the tortured life around her. She saw those forms, deep within them, hidden and confused. Those forms would right themselves through generations of rapid adaptation. They were like nothing that had ever existed before. These forms were not the result of slow evolution, but of the sheer need to survive. As the world cooled, so would the forms, shifting back into stable patterns adapted to the new terrain around them.

Why have I come here? Laura said, almost furious.

Welcome home! The wind echoed, swirling around her.

This isn’t my home. Laura’s thoughts were loud.

Its voice had no words, but sounded of a humming rage, growing in a furious pitch as the wind became bitter and angry. It whipped sand into her face, and she started to bleed from abrasions. The trees seemed to reach for her, their massive spikes pleading to pierce her flesh.

Destroyer of worlds! Destroyer of hope! Feed us! The trees seemed to say.

The wind picked Laura up and tossed her to the trees, and sharp thorns dug deep into her skin, piercing her with barbs that would not easily free her. Her blood flowed to the soil and nurtured it, and the trees seemed to take pleasure of her suffering. The wind pushed her struggling body into the chaotic forest, and the trees held her tightly. The ant moved toward her. Slowly because its body was a parody of function, joints disfigured and gnarled. It was hungry and her flesh would feed it. The hairless sloth broke a thorn off. It poked at her with the sharp spike, trying to kill her.

Laura felt her mind snap, and her hopelessness vanished. Using her power, she forced the thoughts of the wind in every direction, and once broken from each other, their strength diminished. The ant died as she twisted its mind within its skull. It shook twice, then stopped moving, a statue of death. The sloth cringed in fear, begging without words for mercy. Crouching into a shadow, the creature cowed before the power it felt rising from within her. The trees, which could not move, seemed to tremble at the realization of Laura’s power. Laura had lost her compassion for any creature she saw before her. She tore herself loose, spines protruding like swords from her arms and legs. She tore the thorns from her flesh, approaching the sloth. The sloth proved to be a social animal. It called for its kin, and they came to its aid. Laura watched them closely as they lurched out of the darkness. They were cautious and hungry; Laura took the defensive.