The tantalizing aroma of warm blood and fresh meat was on the air. And the warmth!
Surely this was the Promised Land. A rustling in the underbrush. The feel of the cold, hard mud beneath the toes. Others all around. They were on the move, a collective kind of consciousness, enveloping each other in the tranquility of the night. The beating of hearts in unison; all with a common purpose. Something deep in their makeup caused them to go, to seek, to find a new place. The bulging in the abdomens of the females was so slight as to be unnoticeable, yet somehow they knew.
It was time.
Unfamiliar, yet enticing smells. Strange new sounds, vaguely threatening, were everywhere.
So was the meat. To get at the meat, they would risk the sounds. Dry grass crunched underfoot. They came upon a strange surface, one never known in the old place. Smooth, and dry at the moment, and oh, so warm. It had a pleasant smell, stronger but somehow still like the creek of their birth. They crossed the road and came to something they knew well. They burrowed under the hard, almost invisible barrier. It was only good to scratch against.
They crawled into a ditch, with its inedible, shiny-smooth crunchy bits that still smelled like the meat. Up the other side. Into the woods, where they found good cover, and surprised a few small, wriggling, shrieking bits of meat. Still not sated, bellies wanting more, more, more meat. The little ones were unfed, the adults gnashing at the jaws. Tongues gliding in and out, seeking the meat. Tasting the air. Brightness.
Unfamiliar, unknown shapes. The brilliance of the light beckoned. They followed the hollows. While there was water; there was not enough, and so they moved on. The warm water did not cover the adults. They moved on, tasting the air and the water as they went. Listening and smelling and feeling the soil beneath as they advanced, seeking the meat and they knew not what else.
The barren chill of the night drove them on.
The first of them snuggled up against the long, shiny things that sat above the ground on hard, flavourless branches with no leaves. With the weight of them pushing and laying on it, the pipeline finally began to sag, and crack and leak…they could not eat the hot stinky fluid that came out, intoxicating though it undoubtedly was to bathe in the warm wetness. They moved on with the pressure of those who followed, eager to taste the bounty of Providence; and to share in the wealth of this great new land.
New shapes towered over them. Hard, smooth, shiny, colours unseen before in the weird half-light of the flares.
Fires in the sky!
What wonders. What power.
Again they found meat, and shared in the bounty. There was plenty for all, and the food was abundant. The heat of the fires in the sky compelled them to come closer. There was water here, deep and still at the bottom, for the females to lay their eggs. Good places to sleep, good places to walk. Some of them climbed stairs, curving up and around. They climbed onto the domes, feeling the soothing warmth of the metal seeping into their bellies. Some kept on, trying to see the lights, for there were smaller lights scattered in a vast and stunning profusion.
The lights revealed hard, glittering objects. They kept on, seeking for the smells, looking for the meat. Some slowed to investigate. Lights moved past them, making noises. All around them were noises, familiar and unfamiliar noises, barks and yelps from far away, and the high piping of the Others, and a rushing and going sound, like a water fall.
It was paradise, created for their exclusive benefit.
Just as foretold in the Prophecies.
They were home at last.
Chapter Forty-Two
Brubaker was in bed with Edward Gibbon…