To Wake
Deep inside the caves, ’Tay and I sleep.
The world spins outside, and I drift through memories that lie scattered within Kisapmata. I see brief glimpses of what unfolds outside our little home, of what the future might bring.
Kisapmata is gone. There is no visible sign of the island anywhere on the map now. Scientists believe that an underwater volcano erupted, destroying Kisapmata in its aftermath. More months of testing will prove that to be false, but it is enough to fill the news for days.
There is no recovered footage of the tree creatures or of Tatay, but I know videos of the corpse tree will be all that is needed to draw fascination. So would recordings of Steve Galant—raving and blind, screaming for mercy in his final days. Unable to see or hear; unable to do anything but see and hear.
I wander through these half-forgotten thoughts, into the dreams of those who have never left the island. Airplane wreckage and boardrooms. Lights and cameras. Anger and speculation. Glints of gold coins. Cultists still nestled inside hollow trees, serving as sources of nourishment for ’Tay’s other children, who are undiscovered by even the most recent expedition.
I do not see Chase anywhere amid all this chaos, and that comforts me.
I hope he does not return.
But I know others will come. Humans are foolish. I said as much to ’Tay. Their goals will be no different the next time. Hunger and greed. Occasionally compassion. Kindness. But I know that is not always enough.
Chase’s stuffed bear is cradled loosely against the crook of my shoulder. Askal is curled at my feet.
They will try again, and ’Tay will wake one last time. And the world will change, perhaps for the better. Perhaps not.
Until then, we dream.