Chapter 13: 13. Red Means Life Part 5

Sunrise was arguably the most beautiful part of the day in Kabir’s Crimson Forest. Throughout Alix’s four-month contract on Deimos X, she’d been out on plenty of field missions early enough to witness the sun’s golden beams reach across the forest floor, suffusing everything with a bright glow that made the whole planet feel fresh and new. 

This morning, however, Alix paid little mind to the sunrise. As she and Figaro trekked through the wood in search of the research station, Alix found she couldn’t pay much mind to anything other than the threats that seemed to be lurking all around her. Her senses remained sharpened to a nearly unbearable degree, ensuring that she was instantly aware of every noise and move made by the other creature nearby. In every corner, there were fangs, or claws, or hungry eyes. And then, of course, there was the howling. There was always the howling behind them. Alix’s fear was a living, breathing thing inside her, now. 

But that was fine. All of this would be fine, because soon Alix and Figaro would be safe and sound back at the station, as long as they could keep up the pace. They just had to survive the forest a little longer. They just had to keep going.

“Boss, you look like you need a break,” Figaro suggested gingerly. 

Alix didn’t so much as slow down. “No time for a break, Figaro. We can’t let them catch up. No sir.”

“And so I will ask for the thousandth time this morning: who the hell is ‘them’?”

“I don’t know what they are exactly, but I can hear them, and they sure as hell don’t sound friendly,” Alix snapped. As she continued walking, she toyed with the beetle wing fragment between her fingers. It put her just a little, itty bit at ease to feel it against her skin. When it had still been dark out, she’d used it for extra light to check in with the map. Now it provided her a blessed distraction, a way to occupy her frenetic hands as she journeyed on and on under the crimson canopy. 

“Well, I don’t hear anything, and this pace feels like overkill,” said Figaro. 

“The pace is necessary, Figaro, we can’t stop. It’s survival of the fastest right now, and we won’t let them get us.”

“For the thousandth and one time . . .”

“No time for more questions. The enemy is on our heels and— DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

“No.”

“Sounded like something scurrying.” Alix’s eyes darted around wildly before landing on the source of the disturbance. “Oh, just an arachnid crawling up a branch. No problem, we’ll just keep our distance, just keep going, keep walking, walking— WHAT WAS THAT?”

“What. Was. What.” Figaro droned. 

“Saw something fly up into the trees . . . oh, just a malar. Flying away. Good, that’s good. We’re good. Let’s walk faster.”

Figaro prodded at Alix’s face. “Have you always had that twitch?”

“I don’t know what you— DID YOU HEAR THAT? Oh my God, what about that? And what was THAT?”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on here?” Figaro hoisted himself up by Alix’s hair and crawled up onto Alix’s ear. She felt a slight tickle as one of his eye lenses peered in. 

“Hey, quit that!”

“Something is making you hear things. Unless you got modded out without telling me and are somehow, miraculously hearing every little sound in the forest, then something’s gone wacky in your system.” Figaro continued staring down Alix’s ear canal. “Hm, no tumor, wax build-up, or anything out of the ordinary that I can see.”

Alix swatted him off of her ear. “Nothing’s wrong with me! I’m in peak physical condition! I’ve never felt better! In fact I . . . excuse me for a moment.”

Alix paused to lean over a nearby bush. She heaved up a globule of foamy, green spit, then straightened again and continued walking. 

“What was I saying? Oh, right, I’m in great shape.”

“Holy shit,” Figaro said. 

Figaro started rambling about all sorts of nonsense then, going on and on about how she had “needed to see the medic ASAP,” and was “scaring” him and on and on, but Alix had no time to listen to that. This was the wild, and she was the prey. She had to listen for dangers. Her hunters were everywhere, just like the dreams had said.

Fangs in the trees.

Eyes in the shadows.

Claws in the air.

Red, red, red, everywhere you look. Danger, danger, get away. They’re coming for you. Can’t you hear them howl?”

She could. 

Figaro’s rant was cut short when a malar flew straight at them. The winged reptile screeched as it hurtled toward Alix’s face, but she had seen, heard, and felt it coming a mile away. Without even having to think, Alix smacked it away with such force that the creature slammed into a nearby tree. As it fell from the point of impact, green foam dripped from its gaping maw. 

“What the hell?” Figaro yelped, shocked. “Has everything in this forest gone batty?”

“All the ones that have are after us,” said Alix, walking faster. “But they won’t catch us.”

Alix grabbed a large stick from the ground as she caught a whiff of another “off” malar, already swinging for it like it was a curveball headed her way as it flew down from the trees. They started coming one after another then, strings of green spit hanging dribbling as they screeched at her. Alix picked up another stick and duel-wielded it. She batted them all away viciously, refusing to slow her pace, not pausing for a breath as she swung her sticks at the rampaging malars. 

“This is like some demented baseball game,” said Figaro as Alix batted the last few away. 

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The next several, grueling hours passed in much the same way. The malars were not the last to want a bite out of Alix. They had to defend themselves against two hook-beaked avians that flew at them in a rage. Other small mammals shot out of their burrows to snap at Alix’s ankles, and there was a trio of ravaged, rage-filled parvolopes that took Alix two hours to lose. So many creatures came running for Alix’s throat that at several points she’d been forced to stun them with her raygun, finally depleting the last of its charge. All their attackers shared the same common features. Dilated pupils, twitching, and green foam at their mouths. That meant something, of course, it had to. But Alix’s usual deductive skills failed her. She couldn’t focus on clues or ideas when she was being besieged by a ceaseless string of attackers. She could only think of the bare essentials of surviving what felt like an endless battle through Kabir’s Crimson Forest. 

Things slowed once the sun had set. Alix was also beginning to slow. Despite Figaro’s protests, she hadn’t stopped once that entire day for a break, and now she found that her body was betraying her. 

Alix had to stop to lean on a nearby tree. Handfuls of stars were twinkling in the darkling sky, and the forest had gone mostly quiet. Alix’s muscles felt like jelly, her bones like paper. She felt as though the life had been drained from every cell in her body. And the sudden twitching that had started a few hours prior only made her feel more sore. 

“So, shall we find you a tree to sleep in, or are you still insistent on walking until you pass out?” Figaro asked her, two limbs folded crossly.  

“I’m great, fabulous, full of energy,” Alix rasped. “Let’s keep going.”

Alix tried to take a step forward. She instead fell on her face. 

“That was intentional,” she said, turning her face away from the ground. A few inches farther, and she would have broken her teeth on an exposed root. “This dirt is soft— WHAT WAS THAT?”

“Me, dumbass,” said Figaro. He had hopped down from Alix’s shoulder, and the leaves on the ground had rustled from his movement. He scuttled over to the closest tree and crawled up it with his eye lenses extended. “I’m scouting this tree out. If it’s safe, you’re sleeping in it.”

“No, no, we’ve got to keep going or they’ll catch up. I can’t sleep. Sleep is for the weak. I’m fit as a fiddle.” Alix turned her head to the other side to spit up a wad of green, foamy saliva before continuing. “But perhaps a quick lay-down won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, sure, a quick lay-down.” Figaro scuttled back down and motioned to Alix for her to get up. “There’s some thick, viny branches up top. Should hold your weight just fine. Can you climb?”

“Yes?”

“That question mark at the end of your ‘yes’ concerns me greatly.”

Alix forced herself off the ground. Her head spun as she got to her feet, and her stomach twisted. She faced the tree Figaro had selected with hesitation. That question mark was feeling bigger and bigger with every branch she saw. 

But then she heard the howls echoing in the distance, and began climbing without a second thought. 

“I hate to burden you with bad news, but I’ve got to tell you something,” Figaro said as Alix climbed up toward him. 

Alix froze. “What? What is it? Is something waiting up there? Do I need to bust out the sticks again?”

“No, it’s not that. Actually, it’s kind of worse, ‘cuz I don’t think this problem can be solved with sticks,” said Figaro. “See, I think you aren’t the only one in this duo who’s malfunctioning.”

“Excuse you, my functioning is fantastic. All my senses are awake and on fire.” Alix resumed her ascent. “But what do you mean?”

“I think something’s gone haywire with my comm systems! I’ve been pinging the station all day for help. And what have I heard back? Crickets. A whole bunch of dead air. I know we’ve still got a ways to walk, but we should at least be close enough to be in range of their signal.”

“Hm . . . that is weird.” Alix tried to clear her head enough to think through this new information. It was hard to focus in on it over all the other stimuli still flooding her brain: the roughness of the tree bark, the distant chirping of the nocturnal avians flitting around, the cloying scent of the flowers blooming a few feet below . . . no, no think. “C-couldn’t . . . couldn’t it be a problem on the station’s end?”

“Hmph, maybe. But they’re so careful about maintaining the comms systems. The likelier answer is that it’s me. Maybe I jostled a wire or something,” said Figaro. “Hey, what’s in your hand?”

“What? Oh.” Alix slipped her wing fragment into her pocket. “I’d forgotten I was holding it. Look, just keep trying to ping the station, and we’ll just keep moving forward. It’s all we can do. Right after this ten-minute nap.”

“Ten minutes? Dude, I’m not waking you up before ten hours if I can help it. You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Alix rolled her eyes and climbed on in silence until she’d reached the tangle of branches and vines that Figaro had pointed her toward. She let herself go limp in that primordial bed. Her head swam from the exertion of the climb. She took a swig from her flask. Luckily they’d passed a small creek that day and Alix had been able to refill it, though she wasn’t sure it would last her until they got back to the station. 

Her eyelids went heavy. She couldn’t fight back her body’s urge to be still, to slip back into the dreams that had been haunting her this entire journey. Alix felt herself on the edge of one as the world dimmed around her. She began to drift . . .

“Alix! Alix! ALIX!”

Alix’s eyes snapped open. Figaro was on her face, poking at her in a panic. 

Her words came out slurred. “Huh? What’s happening?”

“I hear them!”

“Who? The station? They messaged back?”

“No, not the station!” Figaro’s voice hitched, full of fear. “Them! The howls! I hear the howls!”

Alix paused and listened. She heard the now familiar howls that had been trailing them since they’d parted with the Aexons. Only louder and closer now than they had ever been. And getting closer by the second. 

Alix looked at Figaro with a grin, wiping the green foam from the corner of her mouth. 

“Told ya.”

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