CHAPTER 3. OUT AND ABOUT
Toby pulled himself through the porthole and yelled, “I made it up just fine!” He slammed the small cover down before anyone could change their mind and command him to return. The action sent up a cloud of thick dust and made him thankful for his gas mask.
The beam from his small flashlight was swallowed by blackness before it reached the ceiling. The large entrance had been the meeting point where the grambles should have welcomed thousands, perhaps millions of people and led them to a prepared refuge from the mysterious devastation above.
Bright colors beckoned to Toby from a rock wall. He wiped grime from a small section. Circus clowns and dancing animals smiled at him from painted scenes.
Lumpy objects were piled against the wall. Toby picked up one of the soft, shapeless items. It was a teddy bear, with a tag reading; “Made for children of the disaster by St. Martin Episcopal Church.” Despite the dust, Toby wanted to hold the toy close and feel the softness of the fabric brush his cheek. Toys had been crafted by the caring hands of thoughtful strangers, to provide scared children with a warm object of comfort. Why had no one come? He almost put the bear back into the pile, then changed his mind and placed it in his pack.
A set of metal doors filled most of the wall across from him, but beside them a much smaller door had been placed. Gramble Edward was right, the bolt slid with ease and he stepped out into blazing sun.
A shaft of light stabbed through the mask’s shield. Hands over his face, Toby opened his fingers to let in the beam slowly until his eyes adjusted. His body tingled with warmth.
Several feet away; a green and brown jumble awaited him. Trees grew here like in Gramble Shana’s orchard underground, but in reckless abandon without the orderly rows. They offered blissful shade and he stumbled towards the grove. His skin, acclimated to the cave’s constant humidity, was dry already and his tongue lay in his mouth like a shriveled raisin.
He pulled out his canteen and stared at it. The grambles had repeatedly warned him about conserving water. He couldn’t possibly need a drink yet. It would take time for his body and the new atmosphere to become friends. He put the container back.
Spots danced before his eyes. He leaned against a tree, waiting for them to settle on the forest floor and become dappled sunlight. He took a few tentative steps. A curious, crunching happened beneath his feet. Dirt and dead leaves covered the ground and insects of different sizes and shapes scurried about on tiny bug businesses.
“You can breathe,” he said to them and removed his mask.
A refreshing wind hit his face. He gulped the delicious air and filled his lungs to capacity. No rocks bound him, no walls pinned him in. Steps turned to giddy skips; soon he was dancing on the forest floor. He wanted to shout, turn cartwheels in this glorious, glorious world. Toby stopped himself as he remembered; dangerous animals surely lived in this forest. He kept silent, emotions betrayed only by a wide grin spread across his face. He placed the mask on the ground and moved forward.
Trees stretched out shaggy limbs far over his head. He longed to climb each one of them, to feel different textures of bark and examine every leaf. Frilly ferns carpeted the path beneath his feet and ivy curled over stumps and fallen branches. Insects dusted the ground in numbers he never thought to see alive and moving. Each looked like it had crawled out of Gramble Lenora’s nature books.
TAP TAP TAP.
The sound came from high in a tree where a dark, red capped bird struck its beak against a trunk.
“Woodpecker,” he breathed to himself.
An old road wandered through the thick trees; overgrown by large bushes and clumps of brush. He followed this until thirst compelled him to stop and take a drink. If his canteen was half emptied and no water source had been found, he had promised to turn back.
While he swished the cool liquid in his mouth he saw a smaller path leading into the deep woods. “Maybe you will lead me to water,” he said to the trail, as though it would answer. He tied a piece of red cloth to a tree and turned down the path.
His skin instantly cooled. Tapestries of moss wove through the branches and little wells of water pooled in his footprints. I must be near the swamp Gramble Howard had pointed out on the map. The trail grew more difficult to travel; his feet were soon muddy up to his ankles. Toby’s appreciation for his boots grew. Though thin and light they kept his feet dry.
The path rambled in wild detours to avoid ever-growing pools of slime. His heightened senses were bombarded by the musty tang of swamp and could absorb nothing else.
A stronger, acrid scent curled into his nostrils, sharp and dangerous. He couldn’t identify the beast but he knew it was close. He stopped to sniff the air.
SNAP! The giant, leathery creature thrust itself from under the brush, rows of jigsaw teeth reaching for Toby’s leg.
Feline instincts took over, and threw his body back before his human mind even thought to react. Toby scrambled up a tree and clutched a branch, lungs heaving. The alligator lingered at the base for several moments before it ambled back into the water.
Toby waited a long time for the smell to drift away. He finally climbed down; thankful the afternoon’s lesson hadn’t cost his life.
After another half hour, he finally caught the scent of fresh water and knew it was close. A moment more found him knee deep in the spring. Without bothering to pull out the water testing strips Gramble Gregory had given him, he splashed water over his ears and drank deeply. Cavern streams had certain minerals and even their filters couldn’t remove the bitterness. This water was better than any drink he had ever tasted.
Toby drank his fill, then surveyed the area. Green willow trees swept over the stream and water bugs balanced impossibly on the surface of the water. Toby checked his watch, set to computer time. If correct, darkness would soon arrive. Creatures of the night would begin to hunt and he didn’t want to meet any more predators. A flat patch of ground covered with springy ferns looked like the perfect place to pitch his tent.
Gramble Edward, the only member of the group with any camping experience, had drilled Toby in the art of fire creation. Though he could make a fire with matches, flints, or a string and a stick, he chose not to build one. His night vision was excellent, and would be helped by the full moon peeking over the trees. Smoke and flame might also attract unwanted attention.
Even after he prepared camp, Toby was reluctant to bid farewell to his new world. A log made an excellent seat and his fingers played hop-scotch on the rough bark. Nature created an orchestra of sound. Many melodies he knew from recordings or films; whispers of mother animals nestling babies into bed, courtship songs from frogs of countless ponds; crickets harmonizing with instruments of wing and limb.
“Goodnight, all.” He stood and addressed the unseen creatures. “I have a long way to go tomorrow.”
A tiny flicker answered him, first one minute blaze of light through the trees, then another. Fireflies? Toby peered out into the thicket. The orbs brightened and bobbed through the trees. More of them joined the first three in a distinct row.
Lights? In the deep woods? There was only one species with the ability to produce such a display.
People. His mind swirled with the revelation, his excitement, already on overdrive, climbed another notch.
Instinct told him to move light. He gathered his most important tools back into his pack, scaled a small tree and slung the bag over a branch. His flashlight and a small penknife both fit nicely in a pocket. Toby’s feet made almost no marks on the ground as he dropped from the tree and moved towards the dancing lights.