Whatever the case might truly be, Logan knew that all creation did inherently have an element of helplessness in it from the beginning, in that it was eminently subject to its Maker, the prime force that had brought life about. Even if one could not accept a sentient Maker, life was still subject to the primal processes. Yet despite it all, Logan knew that he could not bring himself to lie to himself, or gloss over the genuine feelings that he carried within. In the end, after all of the tumult of his frustrated wishes and rages, he simply felt powerless.
Nothing could be worse to a conscious being made to exist in such a maleficent world. He would have gladly embraced becoming powerful, if but for a short time. At least then he could demonstrate how things should be.
He could not control the things of life, but nor could he hide anything from himself. The feeling was almost like being caught in the undertow of a powerful current, one that he did not possess the strength to break free from.
Logan wished with all of his will that he could somehow, someday, elude the suffocating force of that current before he drowned.
Gradually, the conflicting emotions within him began to resolve. The sorrow within him slowly fused to the anger, as he immersed in the resentment of being powerless. The anguish served to empower the fury to greater potency, even while becoming subordinate to it. Logan’s fists clenched in rage as tears of barely restrained anger ran in rivulets down his cheeks, and he shook with deep tremors that reverberated throughout his body and spirit.
Those that saw the lone figure in the midst of the village gave him a wide berth, and none wished to gain his attention.
ERIKA
Erika and Antonio assisted with the carrying of bodies, as well as helping to remove debris from collapsed lodgings for the better part of the morning and early afternoon. The two of them labored unceasingly, until every muscle and sinew in Erika’s body cried out for rest.
It was not without some measure of reward, as they were able to free a couple of surviving villagers that had been trapped in the wreckage of the collapsed longhouses. One, an elderly man, had been pinned to the ground by the collective weight of broken planks and frame poles. The other, a boy of about three years of age, was not strong enough to work his way out of a small cubbyhole that had formed around him during another longhouse’s collapse. Both were terrified and shaken, though relatively unscathed, when they were finally freed.
Some villagers urged the two foreigners to take a rest, and Erika and Antonio finally agreed to put aside their labors for a few moments. Like everyone, the two of them were sapped to emotional exhaustion by the awful sights spread all around them.
Their minds, hearts, and bodies weary, they trudged slowly back down the hillside, continuing on to the banks of the wide stream that coursed near to the village. They flopped down heavily on the embankment, as if their own bodies were extra baggage.
The two were silent for many long minutes, their faces dispirited as they stared out towards the flowing waters of the stream. Erika found herself wishing that the waters could carry the terrible feelings permeating her away. Finally, Antonio broke the unpleasant stillness.
“Not a wonderland anymore, is it?” he muttered quietly.
Erika looked over to him, before leaning over and putting her right arm around his shoulders. She gave him a brief hug of support and encouragement.
“Was it ever? Not completely unlike where we came from, is it?” Erika replied in a soft voice. “We can change worlds, but can’t seem to shake what the worlds have in them. No, it’s not a wonderland, even if I hoped it could be so.”
Antonio slowly shook his head. “No, it’s not… all my life, I wanted to get away to somewhere else, and here I am. This is what we’ve gotten into… And it’s really no better than before.”
Erika quietly regarded him for a moment. He was speaking more openly than she had heard him ever since they had met. The fatigue had likely worn away his inhibitions, and his dark eyes glistened with considerable sadness.
“A lot of what happened in our world, we only heard about… reports, and accounts,” Erika stated slowly, after a moment. “Now, we are eyewitnesses too, and we share a burden with a lot of people here, and a lot of people back in our own world. I’ve never had a feeling like this, and I know we have scars that will remain forever. I know that only comes from having gone through something like this.”
“Couldn’t have said it better, Erika,” Antonio returned ruefully, nodding slowly, before repeating his words. “Couldn’t have said it better… What good is life anyway?” He abruptly turned his head away from her, and the oppressive silence returned.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” Erika sharply asked him, a spark of fire flaring within her. Something empty and resigned in his voice had touched a bare nerve within her.
She raised her head to look over at Antonio, and her gaze narrowed. Reaching out, she firmly prodded his chin back around so that his head was facing hers. She let her hand linger to force his attention in her direction. Her eyes commanded his to hold to her gaze.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” she challenged him again.
Antonio tried to avert his eyes from hers, but he soon was feeling the firmness of her grip increasing on his chin, and clearly sensed her inviolate will in that moment. He became fidgety at the boldness of the sudden question, and the strength displayed by the young woman.
“Look at me, and you answer me, Antonio,” Erika told him a little more forcibly.
With reluctance, he conceded the struggle as he brought his eyes up to meet hers.
“What are you gonna do about it?” she repeated again, for the third time, impatience imbuing her voice with an even sharper edge.
For a few moments, it seemed like the answer to her question would never leave Antonio’s lips. It was as if he was stunned, and it was all that he could do just to look into her fiery eyes.
“I cannot sit around and complain… or feel sorry for myself,” he began, in hesitant tones. He took a deep, sighing breath, before forcing more words out. They had an unmistakably resigned quality to them. “I don’t like the situation, but wishing it away isn’t going to make it go away. I have to deal with it. I know that. You and the others have my support… I hope that you know that. I’m just so tired right now. But I’m not going to give up.”
Erika nodded, and let a soothing grin cross her face, to replace the stern visage of seconds before. She spoke with a sense of reassurance and gentleness. “We do know that, Antonio. Just keep the fight in you. We cannot surrender within ourselves, or give up in any way. We all are going to need you. Each and every one of us.”
“I’ll give you my best,” Antonio replied, appearing to muster a little more resolve within himself. He gave her a slight smile in return. “We’ll get through it.”
“We will,” Erika replied, confidently. “One way or another… we will.”
“Hey there, you two… I’ve been looking for you,” interjected another familiar voice, echoing with sympathy.
Looking around, Erika saw Derek walking towards them. He was wearing only trousers, his upper body bared. His chiseled body glistened with sweat from the arduous work that he had been doing, sweat running down the contours of his well-defined musculature.
He wiped his brow as the corners of his mouth turned up into a gentle grin, though his eyes reflected no joy. A hollow, faraway look rested deeper within his gaze.
“Hey Derek,” Antonio said, looking momentarily boosted to see another member from their group of exiles.
Derek strode up to them, placing his hands upon his hips while working to catch his breath in deep gulps. His chest heaved and recessed as he took in substantial breaths of air, obviously fatigued. He wiped his brow again with the back of his hand. More sweat began to muster immediately in the wake of his effort.