Chapter 12 -
11/19/2017
I frowned at the gravels on the ground. They flared like they had soaked up all the sunlight. It was hard to focus on a spot without feeling dizzy. The pervasive luster accentuated the ambiguity of the Pocket.
I gazed up and raised my hand over my forehead like a visor. Through the haze, I saw the vague outline of the Belt of the Sunpath. I counted the Grits and noted that the sun had travelled from the forth to the fifth Grit.
“The trajectory of the sun indicates the direction to get to the Endless Sea,” Bulkee said, pointing with a finger.
“But there are so many hills over there,” my eye followed his direction. “Which one should we head over?”
As soon as my question fell, there was a soft dab on my chest. I peeped down to find the necklace pulsing, giving me a mild pull.
“That’s interesting,” Bulkee rubbed his chin, as he cut a glance at me. “The TimeBook seems to give us some sort of clue.”
“It will show you the way at critical points.”
The words Ori spoke to me in confidence rang in my ears. “I guess so,” I said and offered Bulkee my utmost impassive expression.
The pendent jostled again, pointing to a hill with a steep slope.
“I’m certain that the TimeBook wants us to go that way,” Bulkee said.
“Sure,” I shrugged.
Up ahead, the gritty texture of the hill made my throat dry. I swallowed as we set off crossing the field.
Climbing uphill wasn’t easy, because the higher we went, the finer the pebbles grew. With each step I sank deeper into the ground. I had to exert extra effort to bring up my legs.
I counted my steps, trying not to think about how tired I was. About seven hundred steps later, the ground had turned into sand floor and I was practically dragging my feet one at a time. I felt weighty. The only thing that kept me going was the subtle movement of the TimeBook pendent against my chest.
After another five hundred steps, we finally reached the crest. I was near exhaustion but my mind was preoccupied at the discovery. The fresh landscape down below was absolutely stunning. Not an exaggeration to say that it had swept me off my feet.
There was a dazzling meadow of crystal planks like a field of giant rock candies, radiant with magnificence. They jutted out from the ground, their irregular sides sending streaks of lights everywhere.
My breath quickened, as I scanned the area and noticed something else captivating.
Before I could put words to my findings, Bulkee raised a finger. “It’s a labyrinth,” he said.
We stared into a maze of intricate patterns created by the planks converging from the edge of the hill. Right in the middle of it, I found the source of my interest – a body of water with a smooth and gleaming surface, shaped like a teardrop.
Curiosity shot through my body. I wanted to explore this new Pocket and what it would offer. I didn’t hesitate, when Bulkee suggested that we slide down the hill.
We cruised down the slope quickly. Two trails of glistening dust splashed around us like vapor clouds, making me as gleeful as a young child on a waterslide. We coasted through the base of the mount for almost two feet before coming to a complete stop.
The air on this side of the hill smelled damp and heavy like an indoor waterpark. I was thrilled to march toward the crystal planks. They sparkled like the fresh morning dews.
“That’s weird,” I stopped in my tracks, when I noticed something odd. I was taken aback by a purplish heap a few yards up ahead.
The pile struck me as a worn-out fur coat that someone had forsaken. It was strange to spot such a hideous sight against the otherwise gorgeous scenery. I tiptoed over, wanting to take a closer look.
The stack moved right when I came around. I jolted back immediately and I gasped, when my gaze met with a pair of opaque but spirited eyes. “It’s alive,” I said.
Bulkee crossed over to me, blockading my access to the stack.
I stepped around him and leaned in again. What I had thought as a pile of fur-coat turned out to be some sort of an animal. The long snout and the stocky built began to draw a clear resemblance to a bear.
I straightened, feeling tension around my temples, when the bear labored to rise from the ground. I regarded him carefully, debating if it was safer to run or stand still. But his torso slackened, his arms popped, shoving up a flurry of sand dust, before he collapsed back down.
“He can’t get up,” I stated the obvious and decided to wait a little longer.
“You need to back away now and do it slowly,” I heard Bulkee’s stern voice. “He could be dangerous,” he said.
“But he seems to be in pain,” I replied. Something about the bear had struck a chord with me.
“Or he is just getting ready to attack you. I can’t protect you if he plans to tear you part,” Bulkee hissed.
You’re overacting. I wanted to tell him. “Bulkee, let me check on him,” I scooped down
As soon as my kneecaps hit the ground, the bear let out a throaty huffing and got to his feet. He began flailing his arms in an awkward angle patting at his shoulders, like he was trying to kill off something behind him. Before I knew it, he had twisted around with arms right over me.
His quick movement was so unexpected that I span on my heels and doubled over in shock. My heart pounded fast, when I saw that he was swatting at me in full swing
The blow nearly missed my hip. I kicked my legs against the soft sand, trying to gain momentum to roll back.
The glass canteen given to me by Mrs. Lethan tumbled out from my shorts. The liquid inside knocked against the glass walls, sending up a series of sharp sounds.
I struggled to retrieve the bottle. But I froze, when I caught the bear raise his claw once more.
Wait.
Fingers.
Five fingers.
I was stunned as I stared at a hand attached to the end of his arm. Not claws. But a human hand.
Was he a bear or a man?
“Don’t move,” Bulkee shouted. From the corner of my eyes I saw him hurry over to stand in between us, and blocked the Bearman’s reaching hand with the full of his body.
Something strange happened next. Bulkee arched his back and pressed a palm to his neck. He held the frigid position for a brief moment, before I heard a heavy thud and the burly Bearman in front of him dropped to the ground.
Bulkee stepped to the side and folded his arms across his chest. When he veered around and regarded me, the cold shrewdness returned to his eyes.
I tried to read his expression. He had the look of a judge waiting for a diver to jump off the board before deciding on a score. The sneer on his face made it clear that he wanted to see what I would do next.
What exactly was he getting at? I didn’t have the leisure to play his games. I turned to focus on the Bearman.
He was lying next to us. His body was as still as a block of wood. But his fingers trembled, shaking to reach forward. A thought occurred to me. Maybe he wasn’t trying to hit me.
“You want this?” I whispered, as I picked up the flask.
The Bearman exerted effort to lift his face. His opaque eyes told me nothing. But the despair settled on his sunken face spoke volume.
I began to recognize his suffering from dehydration. It was no surprise, as the torrid air had squeezed every drop of sweat out of my pores. I was as drained as a strip of jerky. I could only imagine the pain of the Bearman. His life might well be depended on a tiny drop of water in the canteen in my hand.
I swallowed. “Here. You have it,” I unscrewed the cap and slowly brought the bottle to the cracked lips behind the bushy furs. I held my breath as I waited.
The Bearman stuck out his snout. He began sniffing and dabbing along my fingers. His strange act made my hair stand on end. But I fought the urge to retrieve my hand.
I wetted my lips and brushed my tongue over the dry ridges. I felt the popcorns in my stomach soak up the last bit of fluid in my system. While I agonized over my own thirst, I wondered if the Bearman would survive. “Come on. Drink. You need this,” I told him.
As if reacting to my words, the Bearman lowered his head and swiped the flask from my palm.
He drained the tea in one gulp and the ingestion seemed to transform him in the same instant. It was as though the solution had given him a thorough rinse, striping the muddy color off his furs and adding a soft lavender polish to his overall appearance.
As he stood tall and glistering, I finally recognized that the burly Bearman was made out of crystal. The light shone on and through his glassy furs.
Leaning in, he grumbled something inaudible to me. I stayed put, assuming it as his expression of gratitude. The Bearman took a deep whiff, turned on his heels, and scudded away. Soon he became camouflaged into the sea of sparkling rocks ahead of us.
The episode was yet another strange incident. I couldn’t help feeling that I was the subject of a hidden camera behind an elaborate setup.
Was I being watched again? The question gnawed at me.
“The last one had unveiled,” Bulkee said.
What did that mean?
I shook off his encrypted remarks and shifted my gaze down at the empty canteen on the ground. It became an awful reminder of my own crisis. I was dehydrated. So thirsty that I wanted to soak in a tank while gulping down gallons and gallons of water. The realization that I had given away my only drink crashed down on me, as my throat burned beyond bearing.
“Was there a pool?” I blew out air.
“What pool?”
“In the middle of the labyrinth,” I said, “I saw something shaped like a teardrop. Do you think there was water?”
“Possibly,” Bulkee replied. “I suppose it was a lake.”
“Let’s go find it. I need a drink.” I told him. Saying it made me felt like an adult, like in movies when an overworked white-collar screwed off the cap of an ice-chilled bottle. I imagined the character tossing off the frizzly drink with a pretentious expression, like he was washing down a week-load of stress.
“We shouldn’t go there,” Bulkee said. “A Flash just came to me. It has warned me of a veiled danger deep inside the labyrinth.”
Did your Flash also warn you that you had been way too paranoid? I muttered in my head. He had worried over the Bearman’s attack. But look what happened? That had turned out to be an overreaction.
“Bulkee. When we were up the hill, we had a very clear view of everything inside the labyrinth. I saw nothing dangerous, did you?” I went on. “If one of us had spotted something, we would have been alarmed.”
“I know,” he said. “But we need to be cautious. I won’t be able to protect you if you are separated from me.”
“I can take care of myself. I’ve been to plenty of corn mazes when I was growing up. I have a very good sense of direction,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about protecting me.” What I really wanted to say was that he shouldn’t be guarding me like a prisoner.
“Listen to me, Ears,” he persisted. “There is something off about the lake. I know it. I had the Flash.”
“What exactly did you see in the Flash?”
“It’s just,” he paused. “I saw a heavy fog. It didn’t seem right.”
“Okay. Bulkee. The fog is probably nothing,” I heaved a sigh. “We don’t have a choice anyway. According to the Sunpath, we have to head that direction and get through the maze. We will just make a quick stop at the lake. Besides I really need to get some water. I’m dying of thirst,” I insisted, as I felt a tug from the TimeBook pendent, like it was confirming my decision.
Not wanting to delay it any further, I turned on my heels and marched toward the labyrinth. About ten steps later, I heard footsteps from behind, trailing closer to me.
I gazed up and raised my hand over my forehead like a visor. Through the haze, I saw the vague outline of the Belt of the Sunpath. I counted the Grits and noted that the sun had travelled from the forth to the fifth Grit.
“The trajectory of the sun indicates the direction to get to the Endless Sea,” Bulkee said, pointing with a finger.
“But there are so many hills over there,” my eye followed his direction. “Which one should we head over?”
As soon as my question fell, there was a soft dab on my chest. I peeped down to find the necklace pulsing, giving me a mild pull.
“That’s interesting,” Bulkee rubbed his chin, as he cut a glance at me. “The TimeBook seems to give us some sort of clue.”
“It will show you the way at critical points.”
The words Ori spoke to me in confidence rang in my ears. “I guess so,” I said and offered Bulkee my utmost impassive expression.
The pendent jostled again, pointing to a hill with a steep slope.
“I’m certain that the TimeBook wants us to go that way,” Bulkee said.
“Sure,” I shrugged.
Up ahead, the gritty texture of the hill made my throat dry. I swallowed as we set off crossing the field.
Climbing uphill wasn’t easy, because the higher we went, the finer the pebbles grew. With each step I sank deeper into the ground. I had to exert extra effort to bring up my legs.
I counted my steps, trying not to think about how tired I was. About seven hundred steps later, the ground had turned into sand floor and I was practically dragging my feet one at a time. I felt weighty. The only thing that kept me going was the subtle movement of the TimeBook pendent against my chest.
After another five hundred steps, we finally reached the crest. I was near exhaustion but my mind was preoccupied at the discovery. The fresh landscape down below was absolutely stunning. Not an exaggeration to say that it had swept me off my feet.
There was a dazzling meadow of crystal planks like a field of giant rock candies, radiant with magnificence. They jutted out from the ground, their irregular sides sending streaks of lights everywhere.
My breath quickened, as I scanned the area and noticed something else captivating.
Before I could put words to my findings, Bulkee raised a finger. “It’s a labyrinth,” he said.
We stared into a maze of intricate patterns created by the planks converging from the edge of the hill. Right in the middle of it, I found the source of my interest – a body of water with a smooth and gleaming surface, shaped like a teardrop.
Curiosity shot through my body. I wanted to explore this new Pocket and what it would offer. I didn’t hesitate, when Bulkee suggested that we slide down the hill.
We cruised down the slope quickly. Two trails of glistening dust splashed around us like vapor clouds, making me as gleeful as a young child on a waterslide. We coasted through the base of the mount for almost two feet before coming to a complete stop.
The air on this side of the hill smelled damp and heavy like an indoor waterpark. I was thrilled to march toward the crystal planks. They sparkled like the fresh morning dews.
“That’s weird,” I stopped in my tracks, when I noticed something odd. I was taken aback by a purplish heap a few yards up ahead.
The pile struck me as a worn-out fur coat that someone had forsaken. It was strange to spot such a hideous sight against the otherwise gorgeous scenery. I tiptoed over, wanting to take a closer look.
The stack moved right when I came around. I jolted back immediately and I gasped, when my gaze met with a pair of opaque but spirited eyes. “It’s alive,” I said.
Bulkee crossed over to me, blockading my access to the stack.
I stepped around him and leaned in again. What I had thought as a pile of fur-coat turned out to be some sort of an animal. The long snout and the stocky built began to draw a clear resemblance to a bear.
I straightened, feeling tension around my temples, when the bear labored to rise from the ground. I regarded him carefully, debating if it was safer to run or stand still. But his torso slackened, his arms popped, shoving up a flurry of sand dust, before he collapsed back down.
“He can’t get up,” I stated the obvious and decided to wait a little longer.
“You need to back away now and do it slowly,” I heard Bulkee’s stern voice. “He could be dangerous,” he said.
“But he seems to be in pain,” I replied. Something about the bear had struck a chord with me.
“Or he is just getting ready to attack you. I can’t protect you if he plans to tear you part,” Bulkee hissed.
You’re overacting. I wanted to tell him. “Bulkee, let me check on him,” I scooped down
As soon as my kneecaps hit the ground, the bear let out a throaty huffing and got to his feet. He began flailing his arms in an awkward angle patting at his shoulders, like he was trying to kill off something behind him. Before I knew it, he had twisted around with arms right over me.
His quick movement was so unexpected that I span on my heels and doubled over in shock. My heart pounded fast, when I saw that he was swatting at me in full swing
The blow nearly missed my hip. I kicked my legs against the soft sand, trying to gain momentum to roll back.
The glass canteen given to me by Mrs. Lethan tumbled out from my shorts. The liquid inside knocked against the glass walls, sending up a series of sharp sounds.
I struggled to retrieve the bottle. But I froze, when I caught the bear raise his claw once more.
Wait.
Fingers.
Five fingers.
I was stunned as I stared at a hand attached to the end of his arm. Not claws. But a human hand.
Was he a bear or a man?
“Don’t move,” Bulkee shouted. From the corner of my eyes I saw him hurry over to stand in between us, and blocked the Bearman’s reaching hand with the full of his body.
Something strange happened next. Bulkee arched his back and pressed a palm to his neck. He held the frigid position for a brief moment, before I heard a heavy thud and the burly Bearman in front of him dropped to the ground.
Bulkee stepped to the side and folded his arms across his chest. When he veered around and regarded me, the cold shrewdness returned to his eyes.
I tried to read his expression. He had the look of a judge waiting for a diver to jump off the board before deciding on a score. The sneer on his face made it clear that he wanted to see what I would do next.
What exactly was he getting at? I didn’t have the leisure to play his games. I turned to focus on the Bearman.
He was lying next to us. His body was as still as a block of wood. But his fingers trembled, shaking to reach forward. A thought occurred to me. Maybe he wasn’t trying to hit me.
“You want this?” I whispered, as I picked up the flask.
The Bearman exerted effort to lift his face. His opaque eyes told me nothing. But the despair settled on his sunken face spoke volume.
I began to recognize his suffering from dehydration. It was no surprise, as the torrid air had squeezed every drop of sweat out of my pores. I was as drained as a strip of jerky. I could only imagine the pain of the Bearman. His life might well be depended on a tiny drop of water in the canteen in my hand.
I swallowed. “Here. You have it,” I unscrewed the cap and slowly brought the bottle to the cracked lips behind the bushy furs. I held my breath as I waited.
The Bearman stuck out his snout. He began sniffing and dabbing along my fingers. His strange act made my hair stand on end. But I fought the urge to retrieve my hand.
I wetted my lips and brushed my tongue over the dry ridges. I felt the popcorns in my stomach soak up the last bit of fluid in my system. While I agonized over my own thirst, I wondered if the Bearman would survive. “Come on. Drink. You need this,” I told him.
As if reacting to my words, the Bearman lowered his head and swiped the flask from my palm.
He drained the tea in one gulp and the ingestion seemed to transform him in the same instant. It was as though the solution had given him a thorough rinse, striping the muddy color off his furs and adding a soft lavender polish to his overall appearance.
As he stood tall and glistering, I finally recognized that the burly Bearman was made out of crystal. The light shone on and through his glassy furs.
Leaning in, he grumbled something inaudible to me. I stayed put, assuming it as his expression of gratitude. The Bearman took a deep whiff, turned on his heels, and scudded away. Soon he became camouflaged into the sea of sparkling rocks ahead of us.
The episode was yet another strange incident. I couldn’t help feeling that I was the subject of a hidden camera behind an elaborate setup.
Was I being watched again? The question gnawed at me.
“The last one had unveiled,” Bulkee said.
What did that mean?
I shook off his encrypted remarks and shifted my gaze down at the empty canteen on the ground. It became an awful reminder of my own crisis. I was dehydrated. So thirsty that I wanted to soak in a tank while gulping down gallons and gallons of water. The realization that I had given away my only drink crashed down on me, as my throat burned beyond bearing.
“Was there a pool?” I blew out air.
“What pool?”
“In the middle of the labyrinth,” I said, “I saw something shaped like a teardrop. Do you think there was water?”
“Possibly,” Bulkee replied. “I suppose it was a lake.”
“Let’s go find it. I need a drink.” I told him. Saying it made me felt like an adult, like in movies when an overworked white-collar screwed off the cap of an ice-chilled bottle. I imagined the character tossing off the frizzly drink with a pretentious expression, like he was washing down a week-load of stress.
“We shouldn’t go there,” Bulkee said. “A Flash just came to me. It has warned me of a veiled danger deep inside the labyrinth.”
Did your Flash also warn you that you had been way too paranoid? I muttered in my head. He had worried over the Bearman’s attack. But look what happened? That had turned out to be an overreaction.
“Bulkee. When we were up the hill, we had a very clear view of everything inside the labyrinth. I saw nothing dangerous, did you?” I went on. “If one of us had spotted something, we would have been alarmed.”
“I know,” he said. “But we need to be cautious. I won’t be able to protect you if you are separated from me.”
“I can take care of myself. I’ve been to plenty of corn mazes when I was growing up. I have a very good sense of direction,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about protecting me.” What I really wanted to say was that he shouldn’t be guarding me like a prisoner.
“Listen to me, Ears,” he persisted. “There is something off about the lake. I know it. I had the Flash.”
“What exactly did you see in the Flash?”
“It’s just,” he paused. “I saw a heavy fog. It didn’t seem right.”
“Okay. Bulkee. The fog is probably nothing,” I heaved a sigh. “We don’t have a choice anyway. According to the Sunpath, we have to head that direction and get through the maze. We will just make a quick stop at the lake. Besides I really need to get some water. I’m dying of thirst,” I insisted, as I felt a tug from the TimeBook pendent, like it was confirming my decision.
Not wanting to delay it any further, I turned on my heels and marched toward the labyrinth. About ten steps later, I heard footsteps from behind, trailing closer to me.
