Sometimes life forces you to be a hero, he heard a voice whisper in his ear. He spun around, yet no one was there. A shudder went through him. He had heard those words so clearly. He turned back to the growing crowd of people reaching the top of the ridge. And that's when it dawned on him: the only way he was going to save himself was to save all of the other refugees along with him. And that's when the invisible hand let him go.
"OK!" he finally yelled. "Everyone follow me!"
The crowd stole along the narrow ridge and began climbing down into the gorge without being detected by the REF.
Sheez did his best to pick out the safest path for them to travel. There were so many women and kids in his troupe, he found himself helping just about all of them over the roughest spots. All the while he was keeping an eye on valley to the east. The REF troopers were still coming in by the shipload; the thousands of refugees below looked puny in comparison. Sheez was also on the lookout for any REF troopers that might have survived the incredibly fortuitous fall of fire rocks back in the three-sided canyon. He even went so far as to run back to the rear of the escape column to make sure no one was following them. Or, if they were, he'd be the first one they'd try to shoot.
It took them more than an hour, but somehow, all of the refugees made it down into the hidden canyon and under the cover of dead vegetation. Sheez carried the last kid down into the gorge himself.
There, he thought, my heroic duty is done.
But as soon as he reached the bottom of the gorge, he was in for a surprise: there were about four thousand refugees already hiding under the vegetation. Again, mostly women and kids, they were from other groups dumped by the REF nearby. Remarkably, they, too, had, escaped their captors by way of a near-miraculous event. One group had been freed when a land-slide, caused by some kind of sonic boom, crushed the contingent of REF troopers guarding them but not harming any of the refugees.
Another group had been penned up inside a force field when a bolt of lightning hit the generating unit maintaining the invisible jail, once again killing their captors but not harming any of them. Others swore that men with wings appeared to them, telling them to make it to this gorge, where they would find a man who would lead them out of mis wilderness.
Men with wings? Sheez thought wildly. Were they talking about me?
He was immediately barraged with questions from these new refugees as to what they should all do now. Problem was, Sheez had no idea. He'd been fully intending to take off on his own from here, having done his good deed. But then that same invisible hand returned and began pounding him fiercely on his chest.
It's up to you, he heard a voice say, again as if someone was whispering in his ear.
Sheez spun around and, just like before, there was no one standing behind him. But again, he found it impossible to move. If anything, the hand pushing on his chest felt heavier.
This time he got the message quick enough.
He had to lead these lost people across the expanse for at least a little while longer.
The morning finally came, and the weak sun appeared. But the coverage of the dead vegetation kept the mob of refugees safe and relatively cool, especially in the initial heat of the day. Sheez wasn't sure how long this sanctuary would hold up, though, especially with so many people now crowded inside. At some point the REF would realize that a lot of their hostages were missing, and they would come looking for them. Then what?
As the others tried to stay hidden, Sheez slithered to top of the ridge and studied the REF in the vast valley below. The number of refugees down there had swelled again, as had the red-uniformed troops watching over them. Some of these soldiers were right at the bottom of the mountain now, no more than a 500 feet below.
If the REF ever found them up here, it would be a massacre — a short and quick one. But where else could they go?
Water was their most critical need. The ridgeline ran all the way to the northern horizon, and Sheez reasoned the farther north they went, the better the chances they would reach a snowline, and then maybe even a frozen lake or stream. The trouble was, in many places the ridgeline veered extremely close to the valley full of REF, and all it would take was for one kid to cry out or one old person to stumble, and the game would be up.
So it was a choice to either wait here and die or try their luck by moving hopefully toward water. And it was up to him to decide. Sheez's heart was pounding, he was scared shitless, but the voice in his ear was getting louder all the time.
Just keep moving, it said. These people are counting on you.
So move they did. Sheez got everyone on their feet, and they all climbed out of the gorge and up to the ridgeline again.
Staying low and walking as quickly as possible, they headed north. The sun grew higher, but a weak wind kicked up, and it seemed to lessen the effects of the heat. Sheez stationed the strongest men he could find at crucial points along the route; they would help those who were too weak or feeble to walk along the roughest parts of the ridge, and then turn them over to the man at the next station and so on.
This way they were able to keep the line moving while making sure no one would be left behind.
The ridgeline provided a natural path, and sometimes it was wide enough for several people to walk abreast. Sheez always took the lead, though. It was very unlike him to be courageous, but something very odd was happening here. Damned if Sheez knew what it was, with voices in his head and the hand pounding on his chest, but somehow, some way, he had become responsible. And it was just too strong for him to fight. So, if there was any trouble up ahead, he wanted to be the first one to see it. And if anyone was going to fire on them, it was only right that he take the first blast.
The biggest surprise, though, was what he saw off to his west. Other streams of refugees were off in the distance, heading north as well. It was almost as if they were under the influence of a siren call. And then he spotted other groups of refugees much closer to him. Some were moving right below the ridgeline and, seeing his group, fell in line with them. By the time Sheez had even walked a mile, his troop had swelled to nearly 10,000 people.
They kept moving, and the farther north they went, the stranger things became. Huge flashes of fire and light were going off way up in the sky, some even as high as orbit. They heard enormous explosions, some so powerful the mountain itself shook beneath their feet. REF ships of all sizes rocketed over their heads. Some were Starcrashers, some were smaller shuttlecraft, all had hulls painted red. And while Sheez always had his people take cover whenever he heard something coming, there were several times the aircraft flew right over them and didn't do a thing. Almost as if they had other things on their minds.
Very strange.
About three hours into their trek, there came such a tremendous explosion, Sheez yelled for his people to hit the dirt. A moment later, a huge SG Starcrasher went right over them, not more than 200 feet above their heads. It was in flames and falling apart, trailing pieces of debris behind it. It came down about three miles west of them, exploding on impact. The refugees leaped up and let out a great cheer, but Sheez screamed for them all to stay down. The ship's prop core blew up a few seconds later, creating a huge mushroom cloud before it all fell back in on itself. Once the smoke cleared, all that remained was a mile of smoking wreckage, or so it seemed. Incredibly, Sheez could see tiny figures moving around inside the skeleton of the burning ship. Were these REF troopers who had somehow survived the crash? How could that be? Were they that hard to kill?