Chapter 30

In the Garden of Life

  I enter the building, the liaison ‘R’ something. Probably not Ruby, even to Endarians that is likely a stripper name. No, she has some stupid name. Her tactical vest bulges under her form, but it is clear she is prepared for war. She also doesn’t seem as pressed by me to go out and find the food pantry of this place.

  “Why are you going there?”

  “Food.”

  “Food?”

  “Well food, and to get the people that are hidden in the pantry.”

  “People? There are no people here, well none aside from yourself.”

  I roll my eyes at the slip of the tongue. “Sorry, Endaarrrians.” I say, making sure to roll my ‘arrs’ in the word.

  “Are there survivors?”

  “Only one way to find out.” I say, as I enter the pantry and head for a door that I know is not filled with Endarians. Instead, I find more pastry bar type rations. Seeing the ration bars, I shake my head in annoyance. Of course, I would find more of these. I think to myself. But beggars can’t be choosy, and I know I will need all the food I can, even if they are inedible Endarian ration bars. Bars that seem to turn to glue in your stomach if exposed to the sun first.

  “Oh, granola mint.” The Liaison says, her voice surprisingly excited by the odd tastes that were clearly exported from humans and repackaged in this monstrosity of a survival bar.

  Hearing that I just hand it to her, knowing that she would clearly get more enjoyment from that bar than I could.

  Seeing the first one she reaches past me and starts grabbing at the pile of ration bars. It was clear that this facility was meant to house and keep people in here for a while. Their surplus of ration bars proves that. “Ginger oats? Root beer wheat? So many great flavors. No wonder you came here first.” She says as she begins desperately stuffing the awful sounding bars in her uniform pockets.

  The worst part is, I can read the labels from where I’m standing, she is not lying. They literally say everything she is quoting. Hearing the choices, I close my eyes and give up. “You’re fucking with me, right?” I ask, as I let go of the bars that were still in my hands. I am about to reach into my pockets to remove the bars from my pockets, bars I know have the same-colored wrapping as the ones she greedily read off the ingredients.

  “Oh, can I have those?” She asks pointing out the two packets of root beer wheat that I left on the counter.

  “Yeah, take them. Oh, by the way what is our true purpose for being here?” I ask.

  “Our purpose?” She asks with her mouth full of something. I turn to look at her, only to gag at the over pungent smell of root beer that is foaming in her mouth, while she tries to talk around a mouthful of the wheaty goodness. The sight makes me want to hurl right then and there. It is at times like these that I realize just how odd Endarians truly are.

  “Yes, is it to save some of the scientists, or is this a research facility of some kind? Clearly you wanted this building to be saved, otherwise you would have just destroyed the entire city.” I say calmly and clearly.

  She has a complex look cross her face.

  “The look on your face says I am close, and that you are about to feed me a lot of bullshit. So why don’t we cut the crap here. You know just as well as I that the two of us, as powerful as we might be nothing but ointment for a particularly ripe boil that needs to be lanced. The question comes, why the ointment and not the lancing? Clearly something is in this city that needs to be saved. Something that needs to be saved despite what it might cost in lives. Also realize that every second we waste here, while you chipmunk your way through these ration bars is another dozen people who could be saved. I ask again, what is our purpose here?”

  She took that exact moment to cram the rest of the ration bar down her throat, so it was clear she didn’t want to talk. This was an action she soon regretted as she started choking almost immediately on the flavors and foam. I just shake my head, then with Telekinesis I open the cupboards where the Endarians are hiding.

  “Look clearly, we aren’t here for you. We are about to leave this place, but if you run quickly, you might be able to follow our trail of dead Scourge we killed to get here.” I say to the people who are all staring at me with wide eyed confusion and panic.

  “Well lead on chipmunk.” I say to my liaison who only choked more heavily on the chunks of glue-wheat products she had eaten.

  As for me I force a bit of one down, but only at extreme protests from my stomach and tastebuds. I nearly vomit at the taste, but I manage to keep some of the bar down.

  “Ittts gooodd.” She manages to get out around a mouthful of gluey paste.

  After a few paces she walks out in front. Only once we are a few levels down and there are no signs of other survivors or Scourge does she take a breath and mentally go through a look like she is going to entrust me with the most precious secrets of this world.

  “You know about the world tree?” She asks.

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  I groan, as this is the stupidest legend the Endarians always spew forth. “Yeah, I’ve heard the legends. About the great tree that spawned all life on your planet. Proving you all are a little nutty.” I quip.

  She looks at me like I just told her the most racially insensitive joke that she has heard her entire life. Thinking about it, the look is probably well warranted, not my best work. Technically it is not even my work, I just stole it from someone else who wanted to perpetuate the racial stereotype.

  “Well, the tree exists, and we have built protections upon protections around the tree. We knew that if we left the tree to grow in the open others would target it as an act of defiance or war. So, we decided to build our greatest city around the tree. Letting the tree’s base become the ground level for our civilization. Our greatest city Endar, is the city built as a layer of protection around the great tree. The only problem, our tree is dying. Well, it was dying before the Prolaxians, or scourge of the soul, came…” She says more, but my mind catches on that tidbit of information

  Scourge of the Soul, that’s right. That’s what Prolaxian means in Endarian and why the Endarians always had such a stupid name for the Scourge. They were calling them scourge as well, but only in their super flowery language. Shaking my head at my oversight I realize I am missing something. Oh right, she’s talking.

  “…you should feel honored. You are the first non-Endarian to ever be told about this.” She speaks. Then her eyes settle on me, apparently looking for recognition. Realizing I need to cover down on my lapse in attention.

  “So, the tree?” I ask.

  As I ask, she visibly relaxes. Good I guessed correctly.

  “Good you were paying attention. For a second there I thought you zoned out.”

  “Nope. I’m good with the plan now.” I say, hoping she will do that annoying thing all people do around me, where they retell me what they just told me a bit ago. Almost as if I need reminding. Normally I do, but if I paid attention the first time, then I don’t need the retelling. Still there is no use arguing, so I gesture for her to continue leading the way.

  We go down, and down, and down, and down.

  I almost wonder if the Endarians are part ant with how many levels they dug down to get to where the Endarian World tree rests.

  Rumble.

  The ground shakes overhead as heavy forces begin rolling into the city. So, it appears that the Endarians are willing to sacrifice the sacred tree as well for the sake of the planet. I really wonder what the plan was, are we playing Paul Bunyan? I look to the liaison and mentally laugh at the idea that she would be Babe the blue ox. Funny how you remember the classics when they are nearly meaningless.

  As we get closer, I find more and more scourge minds. Minds that I easily eradicate as we begin trying to run. Though to my defense I have been working out, but the actions only started taking once I got to this universe. Again, there was likely something to that, where the unique universe theory also meant that each universe likely offered different benefits and drawbacks. I am still trying to remember other cheats I could do while I’m here, but none are coming to mind. At least not while going on a deep tour of the facility.

  Finally, after endless loops down and around the base of the ever-shrinking spiral tunnel system, we get to the center of the area and see what is a rather large if unimpressive tree. The tree is impressive size wise, but really, I expected more. Maybe it is the fact that the magical energy of the tree is clearly waning.

  “Oh, great tree. We have come to receive your blessing. Please grant us the ability to spread your seed.” The Liaison lady says.

  Poof.

  With that prayer, the tree clearly seems to come to life. Energy flows into a few of the larger branches that are still able to bear budding flowers. The flowers pulse once with energy, that surges up and out.

  The Liaison spreads out her arms wide to accept the cloud of fist sized pollen that looks like it is going to go straight to her. Then the moment she leans her head back and closes her eyes, a gust of wind comes. Pushing the giant pollen spores back further right onto me. Instantly I am covered in what feels like thick slime.

  My skin starts to itch from the foreign substance. Fortunately, I cast a Cleanse on myself, but I can feel my body trying to fight off the foreign pollen source.

  “Blah!” I say as I try to swat at the pollen, but this only causes it to spread more on my clothes and into my body, again not the cleanest of feelings ever.

  The Liaison for her part just shifts slightly as if waiting for rain to hit her. Or maybe like waiting for a snowflake that will never come. Finally, after a second, she opens her eyes and looks around to see her clothes completely clean of pollen spores. She looks around confused for a second, then turns to spot me and glowers angrily.

  “Look you can have it, if you want.” I say, trying desperately to get what is the equivalent of old tree sperm off me. Then almost as if angered by my comment the tree makes a second offering. This time dropping basketball sized nuts right at me.

  Clomp.

  A giant nut hits me in the head with such force that I am knocked to my knees. Again, I apply healing in as many seconds, this time to cure light wounds. In

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  More seeds fall in rapid unison. It is as if the tree is alive and aiming for me, as all the nuts that crash into me seem to mix with the pollen spores and instantly begin to glow with a light of life.

  I am pelted with six total nuts, four of which take on the fierce glow of life.

  “What the?” The Liaison says, as she comes over to me, but only after it is clear the tree is done dropping nuts for the time being. The picking up one of the glowing nuts she says, “You are truly blessed.”

  “Blessed? I just got jizzed on by a giant tree, and then pelted in the face by its nuts. That is sexual assault where I come from.”

  Thump.

  One more nut drops down hitting me in the head.

  “Fuck!” I shout looking up at the tree, trying to figure out what’s its deal is.

  “The great oracle was right to request your services.”

  “Great oracle?” I ask.

  “Yes, Pouncing Tiger is legendary when it comes to prophecy.”

  Hearing the name, I nod; yeah figures she would be here as well. Again, I don’t understand why all these annoying people are here, but the people I want to talk to aren’t? Like where’s Mel? Still not everything is the exact same in this universe. Me getting hit by nuts in the face from the great tree of life is proof of that.

  “Five sacred seeds.” She says, picking up the fifth seed that just hit me and smiling widely at it. “This one is for you.” She says, holding up the fifth and final seed that just struck me in the head.

  “For me?”

  “Yes, Pouncing Tiger said you would need it in your future.”

  I take the seed. It is smaller than the others, likely why it took longer to fall. Likely, but I doubt it. Still this seed could fit in one of my cargo pockets, particularly if I took out the ration bar that I had placed in it. A quick readjustment later and I had an oversized seed in my left cargo pocket and all my remaining ration bars crammed into my right pocket.

  “Come on, let’s get out while we still can.” The Liaison said.

  Looking at her, then looking the tunnels that we would now be forced to go back up I look at her like she needs to come clean with me.

  “What? We must hurry.” She states.

  “Then why don’t we fly up?” I ask.

  “You can fly?” She asks.

  I shake my head, “no, but you can.”

  She looks at me like I somehow spoke her greatest secret. In a way I had.

  “Precognition?” She asked.

  “If I said yes, would that speed up this whole process?”

  She pauses, still seeming to be hesitant to reveal her true form to me.

  “Come on, I would expect more from you. Ms. Iron Butterfly.”

  Finally, after admitting her call sign, she lets out a long sigh. Then with a quick gesture her outer protective gear breaks off and reveals her thick bulletproof vest was her iron wings wrapped tightly around her body.

  I must admit, for wings that look like they are made from liquid metal, they are pretty. “So, you ready to get out?” I ask.

  “How long have you known?”

  “Since you told me your name was ‘R’ something.” I admitted. I remembered the name being the true name for the Endarian Operative known as Iron Butterfly, I just could never remember the name separately. I know, stupid but one weird quirk of my memory that seems to be failing me more and more often recently.

  “Rayquel.” She says, almost indignantly.

  “That’s right.” I say in a way that everyone always gets when they remember that one piece of trivia that was slowly driving them crazy. You know like a giraffe’s tongue is black. Pouncing Tiger is the Endarian name for General Fellina, the Iron Butterfly’s real name is Rayquel.

  So many things all came together right then and there. Then I ask the most important question. “So now will you fly me out?”

  “Only if can carry you in a princess carry.” She quips. I look at her back, at the razor-sharp wings and after a second I nod.

  “Makes sense, a fireman’s carry would be painful. Let’s do it.” I say as I go to pick up the other nuts on the ground.

  This apparently was not the reaction that Rayquel was after as she looks incredulous for a second before closing her mouth and shaking her head in annoyance at herself.

  “Sarcasm apparently doesn’t translate well.” She mutters under her breath in Endarian.

  I smile, knowing a purposeful misunderstanding is the best part about learning to speak a foreign language fluently.