The Mallard God Complex (11)

11. Wasteland

            When I was a kid I was told a story about the deserts that lay beyond the city walls. First that we were not the reason that they were there, and second, that they had always been there. Both of these things turned out to be lies, but ultimately unimportant. The story goes that before the city of Midway was built there were only minor outlying towns, surrounded by dense woodlands filled with all sorts of terrible things. It was akin to the 1800s as far as life-expectancy went, never mind that it was close to the late 2000s by that time.

            Villages were often ransacked by large groups of outlaws and other such nefarious characters, but that wasn’t even the worst of it. If my parents were to be believed, the creatures in the forest grew to three times normal size, and had a temper akin to a CEO in the market crash (we were city kids). How these beasts came to grow so large or become so ill-tempered was a mystery to most (aside from the ecologists, who for the most part are just disregarded as witches and warlocks spouting ignorance to the populous through the medium of infrequent bathing and ironic hatred of good things).

            One day, from one of these villages a small band of explorers set out to find a suitable place for a new settlement. The people were tired of living in the shadows of the trees and yearned to bronze their skin to horrifyingly orange levels in the desert sun (I may have added that last part). Mostly they left because of the bandits, but they were also pretty damned pale, which meant that as a society they valued those who exposed themselves to sunlight.

            On a side not, according to this story, tanning used to be quite the dangerous activity. Most people didn’t live long enough to experience the skin cancer affects, they just fell from the trees like coconuts. Those who were brave, or stupid enough, would climb the tallest trees to the tops where sunlight came through pure and unfiltered. Problem with that is, one of the ill-tempered creatures I mentioned earlier is a massive variety of the three-toed sloth. The tanners were usually so absorbed in their reflections that they didn’t see the torpid swing of the sloth claw until it was upon them. By the time they had lowered their mirror, the creature was upon them, and very slowly they were knocked from the trees screaming to the ground.

            In any case, the settling band struck out for whatever lay beyond the edge of the forest. After days of travel and nearly half of their party dying of dysentery they made it to the edge of the forest, finding themselves faced with one of the continent’s most massive deserts. They threw caution to the wind and continued walking. “I would rather die than spend another day shielded from the warmth of the sun!” Is what my mother would always say in a very heroic voice.

            After six days of walking there was only one explorer left, Alfred Midway, the founder of our ‘fine’ city. Near death he rose to the top of one final sand dune and found before him the largest city ever built. At least, the largest city ever built in the United States, the other countries had long since abandoned us to our own masochistic devices, and thus our statistics had become significantly skewed.

            What Alfred Midway saw, was the remnants of Old Midview (no one was very creative with names). The city had been destroyed some forty years earlier in the aftermath of a nuclear blast that had decimated the population. Some had lived on for a few years, breathing the radiation laced air, but in the end cancer took them all (poor buggers). For the most part, the rest of the population had been ignorant to Midview’s existence. It was far-removed in the desert, and communications were still being rebuilt.

            Over the next twenty years Midview was rebuilt as Midway (Alfred was a tad narcissistic). The bodies were removed and dumped somewhere far off in the desert to be used as the fertilizer which grew into the green grasses of Greenfield (again, no one is really that creative anymore. Isn’t that what television is for?). Throughout the years Midway grew, and the towns around it slowly moved out of the forests and into the desert.

            The part I discovered later was our role in the deserts. With the aggressive expansion of Midway the deserts grew to unimaginable proportions. What was once a reasonably small wasteland became vast and unending. Now nothing remains but the small, densely populated regions of forest around Midway, accompanied by the swamp lands near the coasts and rivers (Those that haven’t dried up). To sum up, the prospect of adventuring into the forest left me with an uncomfortable quake in my step.

            My only previous experience with animals was at the zoo, and for the most part those animals are pumped so full of drugs that they resemble house cats more than mountain lions. As we stand on the porch looking out, every snap of a twig is footsteps of a hungry beast. From the tree line thousands of invisible eyes stare at me hungrily. Never mind that some of these animals might be the descendants of cuddly koala bears. Years of radiation have made them mean and huge. I don’t want anything to do with the forest, which is why when Bob tells me that we have to go retrieve wood, I panic…

            The forest is hot and slick with water. It hasn’t rained in days, but the forest floor holds on to the precious liquid, excreting it in a fine mist. My shirt sticks to my back and I am suddenly aware of my own smell. How long has it been since I’ve showered? How much did I manage to sweat in that coffin? Good God I’m disgusting. The only way to describe the smell coming from my body is as a pungent mix of fear and a body that has been decomposing in a greenhouse for at least a week.

            With every step on the moss covered ground a small puff of steam erupts into the air. The haze makes it impossible to see more than a hundred feet away. The pines look like grim sentinels, watching from beyond the mist. We are on hallowed ground here. I am dumbfounded. In every direction is an endless canvas of green and brown. I can only hope that Bob knows where we’re going, because I can barely tell up from down.

            “What exactly are we looking for Bob?”

            “Wood, didn’t you hear me before?”

            “Aren’t we surrounded by enough of it?” He scoffs at my ignorance.

            “You can’t just go and uproot any old tree in these woods. That would be very unwise.”

            “What’s going to happen? Are the others going to give up root and take me away?”

            “Don’t be absurd. I think you took the details of your biology textbook a little too seriously. While trees may indeed be living things they are not living in the same sense that you and I are. They can grow, but they do not possess sentience, and certainly could not move. Don’t pester me with such trifles.”

            I can’t even be hurt by his insults anymore. There have been so many, too many to count. “You know for someone who is so game on making me into a better person, you sure are an asshole.” I may not be able to be hurt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dish it back. Control of emotions is not something I have ever found to be beneficial. Outbursts, while unpredictable, do make me feel better in the end. If the entire world was more open to blind acts of emotional honesty we might have an easier time getting on with one another.

            He ignores the jibe and scans the ground. A type of wood that isn’t one of these trees, but is O.K. to take from the forest. Well, at least what we’re looking for isn’t completely illogical... The heat is oppressive. I am drenched with sweat and every move wracks my body with chills. Bob walks in front of me, still in his heavy black coat, not showing any signs of discomfort. His hair has become slightly damp, but other than that he is the same as when he stepped through the door of my apartment.

            He stops and pulls a hatchet out of his coat pocket. How long has he been keeping that there? “Have we found the type of tree we CAN cut down now?”

            “Again with the cynicism…” He swings the hatchet in an arch and snaps the root of a tiny sapling. Gingerly he reaches to the ground and picks it up.

            “Congratulations, you’ve managed to kill a baby tree.” He continues to move forward. “Isn’t that worse than taking one of the big trees?”

            “No.”

            “Well why not?” He sighs, but continues moving.

            “While I love this inquisitive side of you, I must say that your asinine questions are really growing cumbersome. Do you know what type of tree this is?” He says motioning to the plant in his hand.

            “I don’t know, pine?”

            “Those are pines.” He makes a sweeping gesture at the big trees that enclose us. “This is an invasive tree. If it had grown where it was, the roots would have taken hold of the pine’s and then slowly dried up its water source until both trees were dead. If allowed to propagate, this tree species would decimate this forest into a desert similar to that on its borders.”

            “Isn’t that just the way of life then?”

            “Ah, you are getting the hang of it! Ordinarily I would agree with you, if not for one crucial piece of this puzzle. These trees were not introduced naturally. When they grow large they have quite the spectacular appearance. You might’ve seen them growing in some of the rooftop gardens of Midway’s elite. Leave it to the wealthy to wreak destruction because it’s pretty.”

            “So does Lloyd come in here and cut down all of the saplings?”

            “Course not. What does he look like to you? Some sort of crazed environmental crusader?” I look at him blankly. That’s exactly what the man looks like to me. “No. The plants that he grows out here are natural enemies of the tree and keep it in check.”

            “What plants are those?”

            “Marijuana of course. I mean look at the man, can you really say you’re surprised?”

            “I guess not.” The plants become apparent as if they have only just popped into existence. The entire forest floor is lined with tiny leaves, sprouting out of green stalks. Off to my right a pond gurgles soft and slow like candle wax. The forest seems to grow livelier with every second of daylight we lose. Birds hoot from way up in the branches, blotted out by the irregular mist that hangs above us. They are strange calls, slow and melancholy, like an owl, but much deeper. Their throaty cries mix with the red light from the shrinking sun.

            Something is coming. My throat seizes as a lump develops in it. The sweat on my back increases and I want to be out of the forest very quickly. I can’t tell if it is my own anxiety or if there is actually something wrong. Black thoughts filter into my mind like water through a sieve. They cover the pink contours of my brain with their dark sap, slowing me down, taking me away from the moment.

           The branch next to me snaps and a large beast is jumping out of the brush. Its teeth are almost comically huge, protruding over its bottom lips. The roar is the last thing I hear before a thousand tiny needles pierce my skin. It’s hot again as blood flows from my chest, coating my clothing. Bob reacts, but he’s too slow. I try to breathe and only manage to sputter. A black ring closes around my vision and I know. This is death…