It had been 10 days, 8 of those on a boat. I missed them terribly. I could feel the ache for them inside my chest. Every still moment filled with a shaking foot, a bopping knee or a compulsive time-check. When are they letting us off this boat?
We filed out into one of the 4 main lobbies of the cruise ship gathered with hundreds of other people and their luggage. We’d all been on this ship for over a week with less than 36 hours total time allotted at ports to step on land. Everybody was ready to go.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my dogs. I missed them so much. Jubilee, Lola, and Gracie. I could see their puppy dog eyes looking up at me, their butts wagging back and forth with excitement. All of them were well into adulthood and even senior ages but still had so much youthful exuberance.
“This is the last time we’ll leave you, baby, I promise,” I had whispered into Jubilee’s ear days before we left. I’d spent weeks leading up to the trip priming her for our absence. She had figured it out on her own when we brought our suitcases out of storage. Our preparedness caused her so much anxiety we had to move the packed suitcases back downstairs and out of sight.
“There are people down there moving. I’m gonna go check it out.” My wife handed me her bag and assigned me guard duty of our luggage. She headed down toward the aft of the ship and into a sea of people and rolling suitcases. A few moments later I saw her hand and half her arm waving me toward her. I struggled to half drag and half roll our stacked suitcases to her where she relieved me of hers and we swiftly joined a moving line of people off the boat. I leaned over to my wife and said for the hundredth time “I can’t wait to see them.”
We arrived at the Seattle airport with plenty of time to grab a full meal and a coffee to keep us fueled. As natives of Atlanta, we’re always surprised at other airports. Not many, even other international airports, compare in size and business to Atlanta, where it’s custom to arrive 2 hours before your flight and still end up rushing to your gate to make your seat call. Once again our preparedness was causing a wave of anxiety. This time in me. With all of the idol time waiting for our plane to arrive and take us home, all I could do was watch each second tick away slowly, seeming like an eternity.
“Now boarding group C. Now boarding all passengers in Group C,” we heard above over the intercom. “Finally,” I breathed. It had been 4 hours since we were there waiting in that crowded cruise ship lobby. And felt like an entire day.
Five and a half hours later, we landed in Atlanta. In moments we would begin our trek from the plane to our off-site airport parking lot. We just had to get through this crowd of people in this narrow airplane aisle, through half the airport and onto the train to take us to baggage claim, claim our luggage, and shuttle to our parked car. This was the final stretch.
We live in a dog’s paradise. 2 private acres with a flowing creek. Our house is on a secluded dirt road, about 3/4 of a mile from the beginning to our driveway. This, this was the longest part of the travel back to our dogs. I was watching them on our in home camera as we were making the 45 minute drive from the airport to our house. At this time, the sitter had already been gone for a few hours. I watched them laying in their respective spots, bed, couch, crate, as I road in the passenger seat, my wife driving. When our tires left the paved road and touched the dirt on our secluded road, I could see 3 pairs of ears perk up on the camera. My entire body started to sweat and I clenched my teeth. I was aching with excitement to give them the assurance that we were back and hadn’t abandoned them. To give them back their stable routine. To be comforted by them. The 3/4 mile stretch of that drive, after 10 hours of travel and 10 days away from them felt like an eternity. Until we pulled down our gravel driveway, threw the car in park, and with the engine still running, bounded up the porch and into the front door to finally be reunited with slobbery kisses and doggy tackles.
Outside my window Is a colored streak of cars Speeding through the night.
That is my office. My window from home is much More in touch with earth.
Mother Earth that is. She reflects her greatest works Through my clear glass pane.
Outside my window Is a colored streak of birds Humming through the trees.
Gloved hands wrap tightly around the bars. A quick squeeze to pump the brakes. Legs strong, old wounds turned to scars. The crisp air quiet like winter lakes.
Ahead the trail moves in curves like gentle waves, An “S” that has no ending and begins again. A stone here, bridge there, nothing paved. Tires tread terrain kicking dirt through bends.
Heart pumping, legs burning, climbing to the top. The trail gets lost between the trees, Weaving East, West, over rocks to a sudden drop. One look back before diving into the downhill seas.
Rynal, struggling to wake, blinked his eyes open catching glimpses of sun beams flooding in through his bedroom window. This was his tenth year, over 3000 days, calling planet Maltick his home and yet the cold air still stung like it was day one. ‘Some things never change’ he thought to himself as he threw the covers back. “Time?” Rynal asks. The clock to his right, resting on his bedside hover shelf, projects green illuminated numbers as a soft feminine voice announces “two twenty-seven p.m.” “Shit!” he exclaims, stumbling out of the sheets eyeing his jeans draped over the end of the bed. He’d let them fall down to his ankles with each step making his way through the hall and into his bedroom just a short five hours before. He was supposed to be meeting Calrue at the Corner Pub and should have been leaving ten minutes ago.
Rynal had spent the last twenty years being an interplanetary liaison, traveling to neighboring planets and galaxies negotiating peaceful resource trading. Last night was coming back to him in bits and pieces as he made his way to the wet room to wash it off. ‘How many Froongals did I have? 7? 8?’ he wondered as he made out his tired reflection in the mirror. He was a handsome man, 6’1, dark brown hair, green eyes, with a youthful yet confident face. ‘However many it took’ he concluded. He had been in deliberations with Resources Commander Delvin Leon, a robust man with thinning hair, and an unwavering love for Froondon, the last five months, traveling, almost weekly, between the two planets. Gaining Mr. Leon and his beloved planet as a resource ally came with a great sense of accomplishment and a sigh of relief.
Froondon’s positioning to the galaxy’s Sun Star gifted the planet specialized heat producing crystals, dubbed Heliohex crystals. They’re marked for their rapid growth and regeneration as well as their ability to produce and maintain heat. A recent discovery on Froondon had uncovered a wealthy supply and Rynal had secured a five year trade agreement for these crystals.
“Shower, on. Water temperature: 2 notches down,” he said to the empty air as he turned a 180. The water began pouring down and the sliding door to the wet stall opened. He reached his hand into the rainfall testing the temperature. He hoped the cold shower would reset his body but mostly his mind. The nightmares had started coming again and had even made their way through the 8? 7? Froongals from last night.
One scoop electrolytes.
One scoop All-heal Lite.
8 oz of water.
Hesitating slightly at the smell, Rynal chugged the concoction citing to himself “Another one down.” After years of long nights of hosting and interplanetary travel he had come to rely on this old healing drink, first discovered and used by the last known peoples from planet Earth. By looks alone, one would think he was consuming a refreshing hydrating glass of water, but the smell took on a life of its own. “Like fermented wheat and rotting nut cheese.” He noted the familiar smell and after-taste as he placed his cup into the rinser and started out the door.
Rynal rubbed his hands together vigorously cupping his face to trap the heat for a moment before the cold invaded again. “Message Calrue:” he said to his bodily comms. System. “Hey buddy, running a little late. Delvin had me going one for one with the Froongals and I touched down a little later than expected. Save me some Malshots.” As he strolled on toward the pub, taking in the familiar sights, smells, and sounds of the town, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck and tops of his ears stand. Something about the air was eerie. He checked his messages. Nothing from Calrue yet. ‘He’s probably tanked already’ Rynal thought.
Calrue, a shorter than average but nonetheless striking man, was Rynal’s best friend and his first upon coming to Maltick. They met in an old Pub, now a Nitro-bean café, called “Smitty’s.” Upon entering the pub for the first time, Rynal eyed an empty stool at the bar between Calrue and a slumped over heap of brown jacket, stained pants, and half-tied dirty boots. “Regis never did know when enough was enough,“ laughed Calrue as he took another sip from his mug. “Name’s Calrue. Let me buy you a strong one.”
Calrue was what they used to call a blue-collar man. He repaired, maintained, and formatted Auto-borgs as a contract worker. The hands on work came easy to him; tinkering was in his nature. Being a contract worker gave him the freedom to enjoy his favorite hobbies: gardening and drinking at the pub. That day at Smitty’s started a multi-decade long friendship between the two. Rynal hadn’t been able to trust someone enough to call “friend” in ages, but Calrue was different. Honest, loyal, and giving. He was refreshing for Rynal.
‘Should have brought him an elixir’ Rynal thought as he checked his messages again. He was growing more and more suspicious of Calrue’s silence. The Corner Pub was in his sights, he stood only about twenty yards from its entrance, and he could hear unfamiliar voices from inside. This time of the day was chiseled out for locals almost exclusively. Rynal felt his blood begin to warm his cheeks as red flooded up from his chest and into his neck and face. ‘It can’t be. Can it?’
His mind was racing frantically with old memories as he approached the pub doors and extended his hand toward the Scan-Wave. The system checked his finger and thermal prints, verifying his age and financial standing before allowing him to enter. He swallowed down a hard lump in the back of his throat, thinking of all the possibilities awaiting him. Just then the doors opened to reveal to him the locals he had been expecting, surrounding a table of three men he’d not been expecting but that his intuition had told him were there. Bounty hunters. They were dressed in protective body armor suits, carried beam guns at their hips, and the man, whose unfamiliar voice he heard regaling his friends with tales of the lost evil planet of Earth, donned an arm patch signifying his Special Ops Commander status. The Special Ops team was dedicated to finding one man. The one man with the biggest bounty on his head in all known accessible galaxies; the lost leader of the Old Earth.
The planet Earth, or Old Earth, was once a beautiful world with changing seasons and thriving life. It was one of the first planets to participate in interplanetary resource trading and some considered it the pioneer planet for resource discovery. Earth and it’s then planetary ruler, Bartron Wheaton III, aided in the discovery of new resources from abandoned uninhabited planets, resources that improved upon the planet’s seemingly unstoppable global warming issue. Bartron was an environmentalist and truly loved his planet Earth, but he was still human. Lingering in the depths of his mind were harbored thoughts of mortality and greed that drove him to reveal the darkest parts of the human being. One afternoon his Interplanetary Resource Discovery and Recovery team came to him with one of their greatest findings. They had gone to a planet at the edge of the galaxy, one that they had almost overlooked when first mapping out their Discovery route. Planet Z4, later renamed “Giovane” for its magnificent and dangerous resource, the brown youth stone. Upon the team’s arrival on Planet Z4, their elemental radars directed them to a grouping of trees surrounded by a wall of brown stone. Once back on Earth, the team of scientists studied their stone samples for months running tests and experiments before learning its true power as an anti-aging serum. Bartron, eager to have us much time as he could to save other planets and life, as he had begun saving Earth, bathed with the stone letting its elements wash over him.
Eventually Bartron lost sight of his passion and succumbed to his greed. The absence of aging changed his perspective on life and how to live it. He no longer cared about bettering the planet for everyone, he only cared about finding more resources as powerful and magnificent as the brown youth stone. His neglect for the planet and its future well-being caused a revolt from Old Earth’s people. A planetary war broke out bringing Earth to its demise by their hands. Historical records conclude that about ten thousand people. a fractional percentage of the entire human population on Earth at that time, made it out safely to live out their lives on neighboring planets. Though the brown youth stone had stopped Bartron from aging, it did not shield him from the atomic destruction of planet Old Earth.
Over the decades there had been claimed sightings of Bartron and some believe him to be living on, undetected, though nobody has ever been able to say with certainty.
Rynal made eyes with Calrue who didn’t appear drunk off his socks from Malshots like he’d been expecting to find him. He had an expression Rynal didn’t recognize on his friend. He looked guilty. As he made his way over toward the table of men he knew he was facing betrayal; Calrue was the only living person who knew his secret. Rynal understood why he’d done it, but it still felt like a knife to his back. Calrue’s stature put him at a physical disadvantage to these trained hunters, but his financial hardship left him with no choice. The promise of a life of unlimited wealth was too much for any human to pass up. Rynal readied his hand over his left hip preparing to engage his hyrbid armor suit.
Just then the Head Hunter, eyeing Rynal, said through a sideways smirk, “Give it up. We know it’s you, Bartron.”
Rynal, rushing with adrenaline, turned to his friend to say, “I can’t believe you told them my secret, Calrue. Now I have to disappear, again!” He dug his hands into his hip letting his armor engulf him and turned to a sprint toward the pub doors. ‘Some place warmer this time’ he thought ‘definitely someplace warmer.’
One day I will turn to kiss your head But you will be gone. One day I will reach to stroke your back But you will be gone.
One day can come and go so quickly And one day you will be gone.
One morning I will walk along the sidewalk And I will walk alone. One morning I will awake in my bed And I will awake alone.
One day can come and go so quickly And one day you will be gone.
One night I will wish I had more nights with you
But you won’t be here.
One night I will rest my head on my pillow
But you won’t be here.
One day can come and go so quickly But one day I will love another.
One day she will lick my face And I’ll think of you. One day can come and go so quickly And one day she will be gone too.
