A Time to Heal
By JJJunky
Previously printed in Remote Control #8, 1997.
"I don't know what you want," Pete said, shaking his head to emphasize his statement.
"I want their names!" Wanda screamed.
Finding it difficult to focus, Pete confessed, "My mind's blank."
"Was one of these humans named Zelon?"
Knowing he must not break under the female ape's torture, Pete recited, "My name is Burke, Peter J., Rank Major."
"Stand up!" Wanda hit his shoulder to re-enforce her order.
"Number 0047...."
Frustrated, Wanda shook him. "Stand up!"
"....366897."
"Haven't you had enough?" Wanda demanded in amazement. "You want more?"
"Burke, Peter J., Rank Major."
He was so disoriented. If the world would stop spinning, maybe he could make sense of what was happening to him. Why was he scared? Whatever it was he'd had to drink, he swore never to touch it again. This was the worst hangover ever.
Comforting arms circled his shoulders. He relaxed into their embrace. For a moment, his fear and pain evaporated. It was almost as if they had never tormented him. His cheek brushed against a furry arm. The touch invoked a memory making him push away in terror. His foot slipped on a stone, tripping him. Betrayed again. He couldn't take any more; he had to escape.
A different hand grabbed his, preventing him from running. Unlike the previous ones, these were smooth, almost hairless. They were human. His terror subsided.
"Easy, Pete," a familiar voice whispered in his ear. "It's over. You're safe now."
"Alan?" With a shuddering breath, Pete opened his eyes. In the dim light of the crescent moon they rested on Verdon's worried face. It'd been almost a week since a chimpanzee named Wanda had used Burke to test obsolete interrogation techniques, yet the human was still suffering from the results. Nightmares plagued him every night. As real as they appeared to be, they weren't the most unnerving remainder of his ordeal. Somehow, he had to learn how to trust one of his best friends again. It was a task that was proving too much for him in his present mental state.
Galen hovered just behind Verdon, wanting to help yet knowing he couldn't. The hurt on the simian's face scorched Pete's soul. Each rejection widened the gap between them. He was powerless to prevent his own actions. He wanted to apologize, reassure Galen their friendship wasn't in danger, but he wouldn't insult his friend by lying to him. Galen would know.
Verdon vigorously rubbed Burke's cold hands. "You all right now, Pete?"
"Yeah," the dark-haired man answered, the quiver in his voice belying his response.
"Is there anything I can do?" Galen tentatively inquired.
"No!" the word seemed to explode from Pete's lips. Even knowing the pain he was causing, he couldn't suppress it.
"Easy, Pete," Verdon gently scolded his friend. "Galen isn't your enemy. He's not the one who tortured you. If it weren't for him and his mother, you'd be a mindless vegetable."
Closing his eyes, Pete took deep, even breaths trying to calm his strangled nerves. When he finally had a semblance of control, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Galen. I know you and your parents risked your lives to save mine."
"You would've done the same for us," Galen confidently returned.
Last week, Pete knew he would've truthfully answered in the affirmative. So much had changed in such a short time. Wanda's torture had done more damage than any of them had anticipated. Was it irreparable? Would he ever trust Galen again? Despair filled him.
Alan ended the awkward silence. "We better try to get some more sleep."
"Who knows what tomorrow may bring," Galen agreed, stretching out beneath his blanket.
"It matters not how strait the gate," Pete softly recited. "How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the Captain of my soul."
Unable to suppress the curiosity that had helped to make him a fugitive, Galen asked, "What's that?"
"It's from a poem," Pete said, "written a long," remembering how far into the future they'd come, he added, "long time ago."
"I like it."
Stretching out on the hard ground, Pete retreated beneath his blanket. "I used to believe it - once," he whispered.
****
Pete stumbled on the uneven path and almost fell. Galen put out a hand to steady him, but quickly withdrew it. His assistance would not be welcome.
The air was thinner up here in the mountains. Still weak from his recent ordeal, Pete was the most severely affected. Galen knew they would have to rest soon. A stone slithered out from beneath Burke's foot. The human fought to keep his balance, but it was a battle he would obviously lose. Galen quickly grabbed his elbow. Once he'd regained his balance, Pete shrugged off the supporting hand and pulled away.
Even while he sympathized with his friend's pain, Galen tried to hide his own. Wanda's torture had been more successful than she would ever know. Pete's revulsion when Galen touched him was only part of it. Guilt at his reaction added to the human's torment. Evidence of his pain could be seen in the tears filling the anguished eyes.
Galen instinctively reached out trying to offer comfort. His gesture was ignored - as he'd known it would be. Sighing, he dragged his feet as he slowly followed the two astronauts. He missed the easy camaraderie he'd once shared with Burke. Verdon's single-minded desire to get back to his own time and family often isolated him from his companions. Galen hadn't been hurt. He understood it was part of the man's nature. Burke, on the other hand, had always been easygoing. He'd made Galen feel special. It was a feeling he sorely missed.
Reaching the summit of one of the lower hills, they stopped to rest. Galen unhappily noticed that Burke stayed as far away from him as the narrow peak allowed. Unwilling to inflict more distress, Galen crossed to the edge of the plateau and sat on a boulder. He let his gaze wander over the beautiful valley below. Rays from the waning sun illuminated a small clearing near the base of the hill. "Hey, look at this," he called, rising to his feet.
"What did you find?" Verdon asked, wearily joining his friend.
"A village," Galen said, pointing to the clearing.
"Do you know anything about it?"
"I didn't even know there were settlements in the mountains." Galen shivered in the cool air. "No ape I know would willingly live up here."
"It looks like we've lost Urko . . ."
Burke shook his head. "Never underestimate a gorilla."
" . . . for the moment," Alan amended. "We sure could use a place to rest. Let's check it out."
Without waiting to elicit his companion's opinions, Verdon trotted down the hill. Galen ruefully shook his head. A village way up here didn't make sense. To Galen's mind, that translated into trouble. As usual, Verdon was ignoring the signs. And, as usual, his friends unprotestingly followed in his wake.
By the time they reached the clearing, a silent alarm had been issued. Two humans with rifles blocked their path. Other faces peeked out of the tiny huts watching the proceedings.
"Alan," Galen frantically whispered, tugging at his friend's shirt sleeve, "they have guns. Only apes are supposed to have guns."
His red beard glinting in the sunlight, the taller of the two men threateningly raised his rifle, "That's far enough."
Holding out empty hands, Verdon reassured, "We mean you no harm. We've come a long way and could use a place to rest."
"We help no man who calls an ape 'Master'," the other man growled, training his weapon on Galen.
"He's not our master," Verdon protested. "Galen's our friend."
"Apes and humans can't be friends," Red Beard said.
"Why not?"
"They believe humans are inferior."
"Galen doesn't."
Red Beard rested the stock of his rifle against his shoulder. "An ape is an ape."
"Ruan, wait," a shrill voice commanded. A woman, her long, blue-black hair liberally streaked with gray, emerged from the nearest structure. "You can't kill them."
"Return to the safety of the hut, Marta," Ruan ordered.
"Not until you promise me you won't kill them," Marta insisted, standing in front of the man whose face had grown as red as his beard.
Lowering his weapon, Ruan contended, "They have to die. They know we're here. They'll tell the gorillas, who'll come and kill us."
"Will you tell?" Marta demanded, turning piercing blue eyes on Verdon.
"No, Ma'am" Alan said. "We're fugitives ourselves."
"You see," Marta triumphantly crowed, shifting her gaze back to her husband.
His gun still trained on Galen, the other man asserted, "They could be lying."
"I'm not lying," Verdon quickly replied. "Zaius, the head of the high council, has signed our death warrants himself."
"Now do you believe them, Lanny?" Marta put a hand on the man's rifle forcing it to point to the ground. "They're just like us."
"Not all of them," Lanny observed, raising his gun. His face was full of hate as he stared at Galen.
Reluctantly lowering his weapon, Ruan nodded to the two humans. "You are welcome to stay. The ape isn't."
"If our friend isn't good enough for you, then neither are we," Verdon indignantly returned. "Come on Galen, Pete. We'll have to find somewhere else to spend the night."
"Alan, wait." Galen almost had to run to catch up with his irate friend. "Why don't you and Pete stay for a couple of days? I'll meet you at the edge of the clearing at dawn day after tomorrow."
Verdon stopped and looked back at the villagers. "We only stay in places where we're all welcome."
"Don't give up the chance for a hot meal because of me," Galen protested.
"You're our friend, Galen," Verdon said, putting a hand on the bowed shoulder. "That friendship doesn't exist only when it's convenient."
Moved by the other man's words, Galen ceased his argument. If their positions had been reversed, he would've felt the same. Even when it was necessary for their survival, he found it difficult to treat the humans as his servants. He could only do it when it meant saving their lives.
At the edge of the clearing, Galen glanced back at the village and Burke. The human had been unusually quiet during the confrontation. Once, he would've been Galen's most vehement defender. Had he been tempted to leave his friends and stay in the village? Had Wanda's torture built a wall between them that would never crumble? Walking into the shadow of the trees, Galen shivered. Even he wasn't sure if it was a reaction to the cooler air or his present relationship with Burke. He only knew it hurt to see his friend in torment and helpless to do anything about it.
He walked in a silence fraught with fear. What if Burke never recovered? What would happen then? Would they ask Galen to leave? If he did, where would he go? In a world turned upside down, these humans were the only friends he could trust without thought or reservation.
Galen stepped out of the darkness of the forest and into the soft glow of the setting sun. He paused to watch. The artistry of the moment was one he had never fully appreciated until he'd become a fugitive. As his eyes feasted on the spectacular view, his stomach growled, reminding him of the drawbacks of their situation.
Lost in contemplation, Galen didn't feel the rumbling of the earth until he was thrown to the ground.
"Earthquake," Verdon shouted, throwing his arms out in an attempt to keep his balance.
"Not again," Burke softly moaned, wrapping his arms around his waist and kneeling.
The earth stopped shaking as abruptly as it had started.
Sheepishly climbing to his feet, Pete observed, "I know Horace Greeley recommended that young men should go west, but this young man would rather start heading east."
"Who was Horace Greeley?" Galen curiously inquired.
"He was a journalist with some pretty stupid ideas if you ask me."
A soft rumbling, different from the previous one, reached Galen's sensitive hearing drawing his attention. "Listen," he ordered.
"I don't hear anything," Verdon said, cocking his head.
"I do." Burke knelt laying his hands on the ground. "It's a landslide. Run!"
Galen wasn't sure what a landslide was, but the agitation in his friend's voice told him this wasn't the time to ask. He started to run trustingly matching Verdon's steps. A scream made him turn his head in time to see Burke picked up by a sliding mound of dirt and rocks. "Alan, Pete's in trouble."
"Keep running," Verdon panted, "we can't help him if we get caught ourselves."
Dodging a boulder and a thick tree branch, Galen reluctantly agreed with the wisdom of Alan's advice. Still, he felt he was deserting his friend - again. No wonder Pete reviled him. Right now, he didn't feel worthy of the human's friendship.
Galen's lungs were close to bursting by the time the rumbling subsided and he could stop running. Resting his elbows on his knees, he fought for every breath. His quivering legs were barely able to support him. A sharp tap on his shoulder almost drove him to the ground.
"Come on," Verdon gasped, "we've got to find Pete."
As they followed the path of destruction, Galen wasn't sure he wanted to find Burke. If rocks and trees hadn't been able to withstand the force of nature, how could a fragile human?
"Pete?"
Silence was the only reply to Verdon's call. He repeatedly shouted his friend's name until he was hoarse - and Galen was discouraged. The sun slipped behind the mountain deepening the simian's despair. Soon, it would be too dark to see. In fear and desperation, he shouted, "Pete!"
"Over here."
At first, Galen thought the weak call was a figment of his imagination. He'd so desperately wanted a response, his mind had conjured one up for him. Only when he saw Verdon scramble down the hill, heedless of the danger, did he believe his own ears.
The landslide had spent itself at the bottom of a dried-up riverbed. Near the top of the steep bank, Galen's superior eyesight focused on the blue shirt Burke wore. His heart beating so fast he almost felt faint, Galen carefully descended to his friend's side. "Are you all right, Pete?"
Burke weakly pushed at a boulder that had pinned his left leg against the trunk of a partially uprooted tree. "I think my leg's broken," he disgustedly replied.
Though they pushed with all their strength, the boulder wouldn't budge.
Sweat beading his brow, Alan called a halt. "This isn't getting us anywhere." He searched through the debris until he found a stout branch. Placing one end at the bottom of the stone, he put all his weight on the other end. Nothing happened. Even when Galen added his own considerable strength, the boulder didn't move.
"Give it up," Pete advised through clenched teeth. "It's not going to budge."
"What else can we do?" Galen asked, his eyes resting on each man in turn. These astronauts often had fascinating solutions to problems. He hoped this was one of those times.
"We obviously need help," Alan said, leaning on the boulder. "I'll go back to the village."
Burke shook his head, "They didn't think much of the company we keep. What makes you think you can get them to help?"
"I can't," Verdon acknowledged, "but I'm betting Marta can. She didn't seem to be as full of hate as the others."
"It's getting dark," Pete pointed out, laying back on the stony ground. "Why don't you sleep on it? Maybe by morning we'll think of another way to get me out of here."
"I don't think I better wait." Unrolling his blanket, Verdon folded it into a pillow and placed gently it under Burke's dusty head. "I'll head out now."
"You could get lost," Galen contended. Though his protest was issued primarily in concern for Verdon's safety, Galen was also dreading the prospect of spending the long night alone with a man who was afraid of him.
"I was a Boy Scout," Verdon joked. "I'll find my way."
His own voice showing his exhaustion, Pete sighed. "It's been a long day, Alan. Tired people make mistakes. Why don't you wait until morning?"
"I'll be all right," Verdon reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulder. "I'll be back before you'll miss me."
As his friend melted into the darkness, Galen longed to drag him back. How could he hope to comfort someone who shrunk from his very touch? Being forced together under such difficult circumstances could destroy what remained of their friendship.
****
Marta slammed the plate of food down in front of her husband. A sliver of meat slid over the edge onto the table. She picked it up and threw it back onto the mound of stew. With the fingers of her other hand, she wiped up the greasy residue.
"What have I done now?" Ruan tentatively probed in response to her anger.
"You should have invited them to stay."
"I did."
Wiping her hands on a rag, Marta corrected, "You only asked the humans."
"I won't allow an ape to step foot in my house," Ruan growled, pushing away his plate, no longer hungry. "I'm certainly not going to invite one to be my guest. Not after what they've done to us."
Tears welled in Marta's eyes. Settling on the chair next to her husband, she took one of his large hands in both of hers. "Have you forgotten why we're here? What He taught us?"
"I haven't forgotten."
Peace shone from Marta's eyes, making her look younger. "The Believer said to forgive them: for they know not what they do."
"Some things are hard to forgive," Ruan said, pulling his hand away and rising. "They took my son."
"He was my son, too."
"How can you forgive them?" Ruan's tone was almost pleading.
"Because I know that Bryan will live forever." Her face glowing, Marta whispered, "'He so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Bryan believed."
Ruan's sad gaze rested on his wife's face. "Sometimes, I think we should never have listened to the Believer."
"Don't say that!" Rising, Marta crossed to stand in front of her husband. Her hand shook as she lifted it to slap his face. Returning to the fire, she stirred the stew. "Don't take Him away from me, too. He's all I've got left."
Gently rubbing his stinging cheek, Ruan crossed to Marta's side. "You have me."
"I'm sorry, but that's not always enough." Marta brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "'The Lord is my shepherd: therefore can I lack nothing. He feedeth me in a green pasture and lead me forth beside the waters of comfort.'"
"The Believer's words could also lead us to the same fate as our son," Ruan softly reminded her.
"His will be done."
****
Thunder echoed through the valley making Pete jerk. The movement aggravated the injuries he'd received on his ride down the mountain. He ached from head to toe, yet if it weren't for his bruised flesh and broken bones, he had to admit he'd almost enjoyed the ride. "It was like a roller coaster," he softly reminisced.
"What's a roller coaster?"
Galen had been so quiet Pete had forgotten his presence. He felt guilty knowing that he wished it could have continued. Through no fault of his own, Galen was a constant reminder of the torture Wanda had subjected him to. Desperate to shift his thoughts away from the painful memories, Pete explained, "A roller coaster was a ride. It ran at high speeds along narrow rails that went way up high, then shot straight down a curving track."
A flash of lightning lit Galen's open-mouthed expression. "This was used for punishment?"
"No," Pete laughed, "it was a very elaborate toy. It was supposed to be fun."
"It sounds scary to me."
"It was that, too."
"Why would your people deliberately do something that would frighten them?" Galen asked, creeping closer to the injured man.
"For the adrenaline rush."
"What's adrenaline?"
"It's a kind of drug your system releases when you're frightened or in danger," Pete said, grateful for the diversion distracting his mind from the pain of his injuries.
"Did it go through my system when that landslide carried you away?"
"I expect it did."
Galen's voice grew rough with remembered fear. "I didn't like the feeling. Why would someone deliberately seek it by riding a rolly coaster?"
"Roller coaster," Pete gently corrected. "I guess they like the high they get."
Shrouded by darkness, Pete found he could almost forget Galen was an ape. His friend's curiosity and compassion were familiar traits making him feel happy and safe. It was as though their friendship had never been in jeopardy.
"I think the humans in your time were very strange," Galen observed.
Smiling, Pete said, "I think a lot of humans from my time would agree with you."
Lightning flashed. Though he tried, Pete couldn't mask the fear he felt as it lit Galen's face. His guilt deepened when he saw the hurt in his friend's eyes. Maybe, when this was all over, Pete decided, he should go off on his own. He didn't warrant the honor of being called friend.
A raindrop struck his forehead. The water ran down his nose onto his chin. More drops quickly followed until the only part of his body still dry was his trapped leg. Shivering as a cool breeze blew across his wet skin, Pete sighed. "There's an old saying," he softly quoted, "that states, when it rains, it pours. I think that pretty much sums up this situation."
****
Not a single light shone through the darkness to reveal the existence of the village. Despite his boast, Alan knew where it was only because lightning had revealed its location. In other words, he'd been lucky.
A drop of rain splattered against his temple before rolling down to his cheek. He disgustedly wiped it away. Just what he needed, a storm. As if they didn't have enough trouble. Thunder crashed, making him flinch. He smiled as he remembered the old folktale his parents had used to explain the noise. If the angels were bowling tonight, someone just got a strike.
The rain fell harder, soaking him to the skin. Another flash of lightning illuminated the valley. Almost blinded by its brightness, Verdon hurried over to the hut he'd seen Marta emerge from that afternoon. Praying he could make her listen, he knocked on the door. It flew open before he'd dropped his hand. This close to Ruan's bulk, Alan felt intimidated. He had to mentally force himself not to back away.
"What do you want?" Ruan demanded, leaning threateningly toward the smaller man. "I thought we agreed you weren't good enough for us."
The memory of Pete's pain-filled eyes gave Alan the courage to defy the larger man. "I need to talk to you and your wife."
"You've done enough talking."
When Ruan started to close the door in his face, Alan put both hands on it to stop him. He was desperate. If he couldn't make Marta listen, he'd have no chance with anyone else. "Please," he pleaded.
A softening of the hard eyes preceded Ruan's next action. Backing away, he invited, "Come in."
Weak with relief, Verdon did as he'd been bid. The hut was small only one room, and sparsely furnished. Still, it had a familiarity that made Alan feel homesick.
"What do you want?" Ruan stayed near the door, making it clear that Alan's presence was unwelcome.
"My friend's hurt. He needs your help."
"Your ape friend?"
"Why should it matter which friend?" Marta angrily demanded, confronting her husband. "Did the Believer not tell us to let brotherly love continue? He said, 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.'"
Verdon recognized the passage as coming from the Bible. It surprised him. Those they'd encountered in this time, had believed in multiple gods, not one supreme being. Heartened, he quoted, "He also said, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.'"
"I don't think he was suggesting that we love apes," Ruan growled.
"No," Alan agreed, "he wants us to love all creatures human, ape, animal. Only by loving them can we hope to love ourselves. And only then will we find peace."
Hope shone on her face as Marta asked, "Are you a Believer?"
Not quite certain what would qualify him as a Believer, Alan hedged, "I agree with many of the things He has to say."
Marta smiled before turning to her husband. "You see, Ruan. We can trust them. No Believer would betray another."
"What happened to your friend?" Ruan reluctantly inquired.
"He was caught in a landslide. His leg's trapped between a boulder and a tree trunk."
Slipping into a coat that would be little protection against the storm, Ruan said, "Wait here. I'll get the others."
Before Alan could express his gratitude, the huge man had slipped out the door. Turning to Marta, he put a hand on her arm. "Thank you."
"Ruan's a good man. He may take a little convincing, but he'll usually do what's right."
"I know," Alan readily agreed, squeezing her arm. "He's coming even though he still doesn't know which of my friends needs help."
****
"I have the feeling that we are strangers. There's so much about you I don't know."
A weak smile curved Pete's lips as Wanda's words penetrated the cacophony of bells and drums crashing inside his head.
Encouraged by his response, Wanda whispered, "And I always believed that people in love tell each other everything."
"Not everything," Pete softly disagreed, the sweet memory of Loren pulling him away from the pain and fear of Wanda's primitive attempt to brainwash him.
Every strand of her blond hair in place, Loren leaned against Pete's shoulder. "Hey, you're quiet today," he observed.
"I'm all talked out," Loren sighed.
Pete laughed "No, no, that'll never happen. You're a babbling spring. You're inexhaustible."
"Well, even springs can run dry," Loren indignantly pointed out. "Pete, our conversations are a one-way street. You never talk about yourself."
"Oh, oh," Pete reluctantly conceded. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," she eagerly announced. "Where you were born? Where you went to school? You know."
A frown creased Pete's brow. "Pretty dull stuff."
"Not to me. I want to know it all. The first time you fell in love . . ."
"This is the first time," Pete interrupted.
"Now I know you're copping out." A touch of anger crept into Loren's voice. "Come on. I want to know what's inside there." Smiling, she put her hand over his heart. "What you feel."
"I love you," Pete closed his eyes and pursed his lips. Leaning toward Loren, he opened his eyes so he could gaze upon her beauty. Instead of Loren, he saw Wanda.
A tremor, caused as much by fear and revulsion as the cold rain, swept through Pete's body. Pain followed in its wake, making him aware of every cut, bruise and broken bone in its path. He almost screamed out his agony, but caught himself in time. Galen's compassionate nature wouldn't allow him to ignore the human's anguish. Pete wasn't sure how his jangled nerves would react to the ape's touch. He didn't think either of them had the mental strength to endure the pain of another rejection.
The knowledge of what he was doing to his friend couldn't prevent Pete's instinctive reaction. Hands that had once instilled fellowship now created only terror. As hard as he tried, he couldn't suppress or mask his feelings. The guilt this caused him was only equaled by the pain it caused Galen. Pete wanted to apologize, but he knew words couldn't erase what he'd done.
A distant sound drowned out the raindrops splattering against his flesh. Through the fog of the mental anguish gripping him, he identified the noise. Adrenaline rushed through his aching body. Nerve endings were left trembling in its wake. All his old fears paled with this new threat. Pushing at his friend's shoulder, Pete urged, "Run, Galen! Run up the hill!"
The hurt the abrupt order produced could be clearly heard in Galen's voice. "I won't touch you, Pete, I promise."
"Do you hear that roar?" Pete desperately demanded, pushing at the implacable body. "It means a flash flood is coming down this riverbed. You've got to run or you'll be killed."
"What about you?"
"The log and boulder will protect me." Pete had barely finished his lie when he felt a furry arm snake around his waist. It took all his strength not to pull away.
"They won't save you," Galen calmly contradicted, wrapping his other arm around a stout tree branch. "The water will smash you against the boulder and you'll drown."
"Thank you for that play-by-play, Howard Cosell," Pete wryly returned.
Ignoring the human's reply, Galen insisted, "Hold on to me. Tight!"
"There's no reason for both of us to die," Pete angrily protested.
"Hold on!"
A strong sense of self-preservation made Pete obey just as the water crashed against them. He could feel Galen's muscles straining to keep their grip on the human and the tree. One slip could result in both of their deaths.
Water filled Pete's nose and mouth, making him cough. He fought to raise his head above the waterline. Helpless in the raging torrent, debris battered his already abused body. He felt Galen's grip loosen as something crashed into the simian's shoulder. Before Pete could slip from his grasp, the muscles tightened. The very hand that had caused Pete so much mental anguish had just saved his life. So why did he still have to fight his revulsion?
Through the darkness of the night, he saw the denser shadow of a log coming toward them. Even as he realized there was nowhere for him to escape, an edge slammed into his head. His vision blurred as he felt his right arm go numb and fall from Galen's waist. Wishing he could've at least thanked his friend for trying to save his life, Pete slipped into a darkness that held a promise of no fear, no pain - and no guilt.
****
Alan silently rejoiced as he stumbled on a stone marking the edge of the landslide. They could follow the debris down to where Pete and Galen waited. Though he hadn't let his doubt show, Alan had been worried about finding his way back in the darkness. Thankfully, he'd been worrying for nothing.
"Listen," Ruan ordered, holding up a hand to silence the other villagers.
A soft roar of water could be heard above the whipping wind. Wondering why this would bother the big man, Alan asked, "What's wrong? What do you hear?"
"Whenever there is a lot of rain or snow up in the mountains, water rushes down through the dry river bed." Ruan put a hand on Verdon's shoulder. "We are too late to save your friends."
"You don't know that." Pulling away from the comforting hand, Alan stumbled down the hill. Exhaustion and fear had robbed him of his normal agility. "Pete? Galen?"
There was no response. Alan hadn't really expected one. It was doubtful his cry had been heard above the roar of the rushing water. They had survived an earthquake and a landslide. Had Pete been able to defeat this latest challenge of Mother Nature's? Or had his luck finally run out?
Thunder crashed. Lightning lit up the sky, revealing the tree and the two bedraggled figures clinging to it. Alan closed his eyes and whispered a silent thank you, before hurrying to the river's edge. From here, he could see Pete was unconscious - or dead. Only Galen's superior strength had saved them from being washed away with the boulder that had trapped Burke's led.
Alan reached for the end of the rope Ruan was carrying. The big man's hand stayed his own.
"You're exhausted," Ruan protested, "let me go."
Though he recognized the truth in the observation, Alan couldn't take the chance. He didn't fully trust these villagers. They might rescue Pete and leave Galen. "They're my friends," he said, taking the end of the rope and tying it around his waist, "I'm the one who should take the risks."
With one hand on the huge trunk, Alan waded out into the raging torrent. Debris struck his legs making him wince. He marveled at Galen's courage and strength. With one arm holding Burke and the other the tree, the ape was helpless against the onslaught. Putting an arm around each of his friends, Alan shouted, "You can let go now, Galen. I've got Pete." When there was no response, Alan gently shook his friend, but there was still no loosening of the simian's death grip.
The stoicism he'd nurtured for so long deserted Alan. Violent tremors racked his body. They weren't caused by the icy cold water, but by the fear that he was too late. That he was alone. A warm hand touched his shoulder, demanding his attention.
"You take that one," Ruan shouted, pointing to Burke. "I'll get the ape."
Alan hesitated uncertain whether or not he could trust the other man. Common sense asserted itself. Alone, he couldn't save both his friends. He had no choice but to trust Ruan. One arm circled Pete's chest, while the other worked to loosen Galen's grip. It was a challenge that almost proved to be his undoing. His foot slipped. Off balance, the torrent of water pushed him under. He had no choice but to drag Pete down with him. If he let go his friend would be washed away. The rope around his waist tightened biting into his flesh. Instead of cursing the pain, he welcomed it. With it, came life.
Dragged to the bank where willing hands pulled them to safety, Alan coughed up the water he'd swallowed and looked around for Galen. To his surprise, he found him gently cradled in Ruan's arms.
"He is like no ape I have ever known," the big man marveled, shaking his head in confusion. "He risked his life to save a human."
"Not just a human," Alan corrected, "a friend."
****
A frightened cry woke Marta from a light sleep. Blurred vision sought the source of the sound. To her relief, it was the human. Kneeling on the floor next to the thin pallet where the man restlessly rocked, she whispered, "You're all right now."
"He's having a nightmare."
Marta backed away in alarm. It was a learned response invoked whenever an ape addressed her. Directing an uneasy gaze to her other patient, she asked, "What should I do?"
"You need to wake him," Galen advised, throwing back the blanket covering him. With a low grunt of pain, he sat up. Favoring his bandaged left arm, he crawled to her side.
Marta hesitantly reached out to touch Pete, only to draw back in fear. "I can't," she insisted, biting her lip.
"Where's Alan?" Galen demanded.
"Your . . ." Marta paused, not sure how to designate the unusual relationship existing between these humans and the ape. Ever since recorded time, humans had been subservient to apes. Yet, from what the one called Alan had said and done, that wasn't true here.
"Friend," Galen supplied.
"Your," a slight stutter slurred Marta's words as she repeated, "friend is out with my husband checking the traps."
When another strangled cry escaped Burke's cracked lips, Galen reached out to shake him. With a sigh of frustration, he pulled back. "Then you're going to have to wake Pete."
"Wouldn't it be better it you did it?"
"Right now it's difficult for Pete to see past what I am to who I am."
A puzzled frown creased Marta's brow as she regarded the young ape. It disappeared when a flaying arm struck her cheek a stinging blow. Capturing Pete's hand, she held it tightly with her own. The fingers of her other hand gently caressed the sweaty forehead.
"You're all right now, Pete. Go back to sleep," Galen reassured his friend.
The dark head turned toward the soothing voice like a flower seeks the sun. Tense muscles relaxed. His breathing slowed as he fell into the healing cradle of sleep.
Marta shook her head in amazement. "How can your touch bring him pain, while your voice brings him pleasure?"
"He was tortured by hands like mine," Galen confessed. "Right now, its hard for him to see past that pain."
The words filled Marta with an old agony. The hand griping Pete's tightened, purging the flesh of life-giving blood. "Why did they not take his mind?"
"They tried. Alan and I prevented them from doing so."
A tear rolled down Marta's cheek. "They took my son's mind. Then they took his life."
"I'm sorry," Galen sincerely apologized.
"Bryan chose to follow the teachings of the Believer. That made the apes angry."
"Who is the Believer?"
"He's a human who preaches the belief that there is only one true God."
"Is that what you believe, too?"
A sad smile curved Marta's lips. "Listening to Bryan it was hard not to believe. There was a promise of a happiness we had never known."
"Yet," Galen said, puzzlement clearly audible in his voice, "even though this belief killed your son, you're still a Believer."
"That was something the Believer taught us, too. 'Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake, Rejoice and be exceedingly glad for great is your reward in heaven.'"
"What's heaven?" Galen asked.
"It's a place where there's no fear, no hunger and no death. A place of love and happiness."
"It sounds wonderful." Crawling back to his pallet, Galen wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, trying to ward off the chill of the late autumn air. "How did your son become a Believer?"
"Bryan was the best carpenter in our village," Marta proudly declared. "Even better than his father. Our Prefect sent him to Central City to build a cabinet for the wife of Councilman Yalu. Bryan met a man who had a book . . ."
"What kind of book?" a shaken Galen demanded.
Puzzled and a little frightened by the ape's sudden intensity, Marta replied, "It was called a Bible."
****
Alan trudged along in Ruan's wake, marveling at the older man's stamina. They'd left the small village early that morning just as the sun peeked over the top of the mountains. Alan had welcomed the cool morning breeze and the exercise. Helping Ruan was the least he could do for the man who'd saved his friend's life.
The sun now lay low on the western horizon. Shadows deepened. A star appeared, heralding the end of the long day. Just as he'd needed to get outside this morning, Alan was equally eager to return and see how Pete and Galen were feeling. Both had sustained painful injuries in their recent adventures. Thankfully, they weren't life threatening. Both were bruised from head to toe. Galen had a broken collarbone while Pete had a broken leg and some cracked ribs. Alan also suspected he'd sustained a concussion. In these conditions, it was impossible to be sure. Taking no chances, Alan had spent the two days after the rescue waking Pete every two hours. By the time the crisis passed, both men were exhausted.
After sleeping almost an entire day, Alan decided it was time to repay the kindness their hosts had shown them. Everyone was working hard to stockpile food for the coming winter. He helped them clean the hides of the animals they trapped, preparing them to become clothes or blankets. He also taught them how to make skis and snowshoes. He looked forward to teaching them how to use them, especially Lanny. The villager was skeptical of his motives and everything he'd tried to introduce.
His shoulders aching from the weight of the wild turkey strapped to his back, Alan was relieved to see an end to the long day. A cloud of smoke marked the village for a few seconds before a gust of wind dispersed it.
"You've helped much," Ruan said, his deep voice faltering as though he found it difficult to express his gratitude. "I thank you."
"You saved Galen's life. That's a debt I could never repay," Alan returned.
"How did you become friends with an ape?"
Alan was surprised to hear curiosity rather than derision in the deep voice. He smiled as he realized the big villager's curiosity reminded him of Galen. "He saved our lives. In doing so, he almost lost his own. His actions have made him a traitor to his people."
"I've never heard of an ape risking his life for a human."
"You have now."
"The Believers told us, 'Father forgive them: for they know not what they do.' Marta thinks I should forgive them, too."
"Forgiveness is a big step," Alan cautioned, his thoughts turning to the rift stretching between his friends. "You might want to start with something smaller. Acceptance would be good."
****
Galen feigned sleep. After all she'd been through, how could he tell Marta he was partially responsible for her son's death? Would he endanger Pete by confessing his guilt? It would be within the woman's right to throw them out into the cold night. Common sense told him to keep quiet only his heart wouldn't listen.
"Councilman Yalu and his wife," Galen said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the small hut, "are my parents."
"Now I know why you're not like any other ape I've ever met."
Shocked by her calm reply, Galen opened his eyes. Marta sat cross-legged on the floor between her two patients. In her lap was a book. One hand reverently caressed the cover.
Meeting Galen's eyes with her own, Marta smiled. "Bryan liked your parents, especially your mother. He said they were very nice for apes."
"Nice!" Galen swallowed the lump in his throat. "They were responsible for your son's death."
"Of course they weren't," Marta vehemently denied. "If Bryan hadn't gone to Central City to work for your father, he never would've met the Believer. That would not have made him happy."
"But it killed him."
"Bryan always felt something was missing from his life," Marta whispered, cradling the book to her breast. "The Believer's teachings made Bryan feel whole. My son believed it was worth dying for and so do I."
The door crashed open, making them jump. A cool breeze, a portent of the coming winter, accompanied Ruan and Verdon inside.
Alan's glance rested briefly on Galen before shifting to Burke. "How's Pete?"
"Why don't you ask Pete?" Burke suggested, a half-smile lighting his bruised face.
"Okay," Alan agreed, "how do you feel?"
"Like I've just been through an earthquake, a landslide, and a flash flood."
"You think maybe God is trying to tell you something?" Alan asked, dropping wearily onto the rug next to his hostess.
Pete's guilty gaze focused on Galen. "I wouldn't be surprised."
"Ssh," Marta warned, clutching the book tighter. "The Believer told us that we should not speak His name in vain."
"I wasn't," Alan gently reassured her.
Scooting closer to the warmth of the fire, Galen asked, "Who is this Believer?"
"He's our teacher." Marta glanced questioningly at her husband before relaxing her grip on the book. Opening it, she carefully turned the pages to the picture of a young man with shoulder length brown hair and sad eyes. "This is the Believer," she whispered, offering the book to Galen.
"He looks very wise," Galen praised.
"Could I see that?" Alan asked, reaching for the book.
"Please be careful," Marta cautioned, a hand supporting the tome's spine. "It's very old."
Awe flashed across Alan's face as his eyes rested on the image. "It's Jesus, Pete."
"What!" Burke groaned, his aching body taking the brunt of his surprise.
"Their teacher is Jesus," Alan reverently whispered.
Looking over Verdon's shoulder, Marta demanded, "Do you know the Believer?"
"Not intimately," Pete self-consciously replied. "Growing up, I spent more Sundays at the fishing hole than I did at church."
Confused, Galen asked, "Who is Jesus?"
"He was the son of God," Alan explained.
"Was?"
"He gave his life to save ours."
His eyes opening wide with fear, Galen croaked, "Are you saying their teacher is a dead man who's come back to life?"
Pete nodded. "That's what Alan's saying."
"That's impossible," Galen snorted in disbelief.
Reverently closing the book, Alan ran his fingertips over the gold embossed letters that spelled B-i-b-l-e. Carefully, using both hands, he handed it to Galen. "Read this, then tell us it's impossible."
Galen's eyes briefly rested on his friend's, before shifting to the book. "May I read your book, Marta?"
"Would . . ." Marta's hopeful gaze lifted toward her husband, "would you mind reading it out loud?"
Sadly realizing the two villagers didn't know how to read, Galen offered, "Would you like me to teach you, so you could read it yourself?"
"That would be against the law," Marta fearfully protested.
"It's against the law to be a Believer," Pete gently reminded her. "That hasn't stopped you."
"Do you really think I could learn?"
"Anyone can learn to read," Pete reassured her. "All it takes is desire and patience. You clearly have the desire." Guilt-ridden eyes trained on Galen, Pete finished, "And, I know from experience, Galen has the patience. Without it, he couldn't be friends with an undeserving lout like me."
Tears blurred Galen's vision as he silently accepted Burke's apology. The worst was over for them. There would still be nightmares when Wanda's torture would fill Pete's thoughts with hate and fear. But they would weather it, just as they had nature's challenges. The book he held fell open to its long ago owner's favorite page. Galen's eyes were caught by a passage underlined in faded pencil:
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away;
A time to rend and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war and a time of peace.
Galen's gaze lifted to meet Pete's. Now was a good time for the healing to start. In a husky voice, he read the timeless words out loud.
****
A strong wind shook the little shack. Pete shivered, glad that he was sitting in front of a warm fire instead of out in the storm. Though he sometimes felt trapped, this wasn't one of those times. For once, he didn't envy Alan and Ruan.
Voices rose. Pete's eyes were drawn to the other end of the fire where Galen was attempting to teach Marta to read. Though it'd been a long time since Pete had heard them, the words were familiar. They reminded him of a time and place he thought he'd lost forever. Home didn't seem so very far away after all.
Once the lesson was over, Marta would fix dinner while Galen took the opportunity to ask Pete questions concerning the passages they'd covered. Though he felt inadequate to the task, Pete did his best to comply. At first, he'd dreaded this time with Galen, as their hands would sometimes touch as they each pointed to a word or phrase. But, as the weeks passed, he found himself looking forward to it. The words were healing his heart and his soul.
"I better get dinner," Marta said, reluctantly handing Galen her precious book and rising.
Scooting over to sit next to Pete, Galen unthinkingly touched the human's arm. Immediately realizing what he'd done, he quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't--"
"It's all right, Galen," Pete interrupted, " your touch doesn't hurt me anymore."
Tears formed in the corner of Galen's eyes. "Really?"
"Really."
"Then it's all over?"
Pete's smile slipped. "It will never be completely over, Galen. Our memories have a way of reminding us that what happened in the past can reoccur in the future. There may still be times when I'll pull away. I won't be able to help it. You just have to remember, I'm not rejecting you, I'm rejecting Wanda."
"I'll try to remember," Galen sadly promised.
"'Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?'" Marta softly quoted, "''Till seven times?'"
His eyes meeting hers, Galen finished, "'Jesus saith unto him I not unto thee, until seven times: but until seventy times seven.'"
Pete stared blindly into the fire. Though he'd never believed in prayer before, he silently thanked God for bringing Galen and Marta into his life.
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