He had purchased a backpack before he left the city as well as food and a water bottle. He ate quickly and then hung the backpack in an adjacent tree, masking with leaves and making sure it was difficult to reach from the ground. If an animal came, he didn’t want the reason the creature attacked him to be because of the food.
He was well disguised but being in the open left him feeling vulnerable. He would have loved to have a fire to fragment the dark night but knew the flames would attract unwanted attention. This brought his confidence down even further.
It was a long night. The temperature dropped, not to an unbearable temperature but enough to give him a slight chill. Mixed with his own fear, he shivered most of the night. He did not sleep much and nearly cried when he saw the first light of the morning through the trees. Tired but alive and well, he climbed down from the tree and gathered his food.
He had fared lucky so far. Nothing had bothered him and he had not been attacked. He considered that it might have something to do with his energy but he could not be sure.
He walked the entire morning and began wondering if the forest went on forever, when around mid-day the forest began to grow more spacious. The trees began to decrease in size and the space between the trees grew. Soon, he was in an open field littered with only a few lesser trees. It was then that he saw his first sight of civilization in the Outerlands.
On the far side of the field, Babel watched a stream snake across the ground, finally reaching a village about a half-mile from where he stood. He considered briefly trying to bypass the village but knew that he had been seen.
He continued forward cautiously, keeping his eyes peeled for danger. As he got closer to the village, he noticed the homes were similar to what he had seen just outside of the city – shacks built from diverse items, mostly wood and scrap metal. There were about twenty homes in all, set into a circular fashion. In the center of the village was an open area that Babel assumed was some sort of common gathering area.
In the village commons, people milled, each of them with their eyes on him. None, however, made an attempt to come forward, they simply allowed him to reach and enter their village.
Once inside, the people of the village stilled and regarded Babel. No one spoke. Then, Babel noticed a man moving slowly forward through the crowd. No one else in the crowd moved or spoke.
The man was huge. He appeared to be about fifty and had long black hair, streaked with grey. Lining his face was a neatly trimmed grey beard. The man smiled as he reached Babel. Nothing in the smile showed deceit or violence. In fact, it was one of the warmest smiles Babel had experienced.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
Babel turned to run; he had walked into a trap. The man saw the fear in Babel’s eyes as he spun around. “Wait.” the man said, reaching his arm out to stop Babel. But Babel was too quick.
He was in full sprint back towards the field when a voice stopped him. The voice rang of familiarity and spoke his name. Babel slowed and turned, looking at the direction in which the voice had come. The voice came from a face that he recognized and as he gazed up that face, disbelief filled him in what his eyes were showing. It was the voice and face of a dead man. The voice belonged to Quentin.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“You can’t be here. You’re dead. I heard it announced over the intercom in the city.”
Quentin looked at Babel seriously. Babel could see the pain in his eyes. “My family is dead. Murdered in front of me. My little…” Babel watched as tears accosted Quentin’s eyes and marked his face. He knew he was speaking of his children. Babel didn’t speak, he gave Quentin time to gather himself. It took Quentin several tries before he was able to compose his next words. “Everyone is dead.”
“I thought you were dead, too.”
Quentin’s expression turned serious – stone behind a wet surface. “You remember how I told you that many people in this world have abilities?” Babel nodded. “I die only to come back.” He paused giving Babel time to consider his words. He didn’t expect Babel to understand. “I can’t explain how it works, I just know that it does. You remember how I told you that my father faked my death as a boy to protect me?” Again Babel nodded. “It was easy to fake because I actually did die. But then I came back, and my father used that as an opportunity to protect me. He sent me to this village where I was raised.”
Babel wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead, he avoided the question he wanted to ask and asked the more obvious question. “How did you escape from the Klopph after you died?”
“I killed a Klopph in the morgue and used his uniform to exit the building. Then, I came here.”
Babel looked at Quentin seriously. “I’m sorry for your family. I’m sorry for Triana. It’s my fault they are dead.”
Quentin gave Babel a look that told him that Quentin held him to blame as well. “It is the way of the Klopph.” Quentin answered, evading his true feelings. He lowered his eyes briefly before raising them again, staring hard at Babel. “You will lead the people against the Klopph and the Keeper. You are the only one who can defeat them. My family will not have died in vain.”
Babel wanted to
