War's Ember

War's Ember

Gibad clung to his fuzzy bamabat toy—what was left of it. Just a black jeweled eye hanging by sinew and a fearsome claw extended from a paw where there used to be eight. Stuffing and filth. But most importantly, a dull red patch of intact plush fur that Gibad kept pressed tightly against one ear, his other little tangerine-colored hand held against his other ear. He didn’t want to hear the bad sounds, so he’d hidden in his tiny cave.

Gibad was afraid of many things. He’d been afraid that morning when Daddy and Uncle Roft had hollered their war cry, their plasma sabers raised high. He had been afraid of their strange laugh. They had shouted words like death and kill and genocide. They didn’t like the Koterans very much—the tall, green-skinned men from the next planet over.

Daddy said Koterans were stupid and didn’t need their planet, and he would take it from them and give it to Gibad.

Gibad didn’t want a planet. Gibad just wanted to hide from the fire that now rained down from the skies.

Everyone was gone. Everyone but Gibad and his toy bamabat, that he called Bat-bat.

He’d been in his cave all day, waiting for Daddy to come home. He’d watched the loud men and women, singing and cheering as they’d shot into space. Up they’d gone like thunder, leaving white streaks in the sky. And then the white streaks had turned to black plumes, one by one, like smoke bubbles popping in the sky, with loud crackling noises. Some sounded like fizzes, as they cartwheeled back down—the spaceships. Gibad wondered if one of them was Daddy’s.

But he didn’t like that kind of wondering; it was too scary, and so he pressed Bat-bat tighter over his ear, imagining the soothing soft meowing snort that real bamabats made. This one wasn’t real, but Gibad wondered if maybe Bat-bat was just a little bit real. Maybe Bat-bat could hear Gibad’s thoughts. Because when Gibad squeezed him, Bat-bat always made him feel safe.

Gibad looked around his tiny cave. He and Bat-bat played here alone all the time. Daddy couldn’t even fit. Gibad could wriggle in through the crack in the rock wall, nice and deep, to where it opened up to a chamber big enough to sit in. Then he could peer out and watch the people go by and they wouldn’t even know he was there. Except Daddy. It was their little secret. Grandma didn’t even know. One day, Grandma had stood right outside the cave and asked, “Where is Gibad? It is past his nap time.” Daddy had replied, “Who can say?” and he’d given the dark crack in the rock wall a wink, knowing Gibad was watching from inside.

Sometimes Gibad would throw a long string out of the crack as if he were casting a line to fish, and Daddy would tie a plump, juicy oveetle plum to it, or kabo dough, wrapped in its own leaves. Gibad would pull the string back and have a wonderful, magical lunch, and watch through the crack as his daddy sharpened his sabers, singing a song about war and glory.

Where was Daddy now? Gibad dared to peer up, again and again, trying to find him, but he couldn't see a ship. He couldn't see anything but red.

Fire poured like water in the evening sky. He’d never seen fire do that. He saw the red glow, felt the heat. But it was the sound. Gibad didn't want to hear the screams. That’s why he kept Bat-bat pressed to his ear. He tried to sing Daddy’s song, but there were too many words, and Gibad was very small.

And then, when the screaming stopped, he didn’t want to hear the silence, either. Because then, Gibad would be alone.

So much red. So much fire, but now he could see the black night sky, and glowing flickers, and everything was getting darker and darker. He looked up again. He didn't see a ship or his Daddy. Just darkness.

The fire had raged on, burning his house, burning his village, burning his world, but finally, the flames had tasted enough tinder. Finally, there was nothing left to burn. No one left to burn.

The fire that had frightened Gibad so, was finally turning to glowing embers, the dark night taking over.

Where was everybody? Where was Grandma? Where was Daddy?

Gibad didn’t like the dark. The cave was always dark, but the crack had always been like a happy window of life, where he could watch children racing by, playing with their stik-stiks, pretending to be great warriors. Once, Gibad saw a little purple slug-bug sliding along the ground, and it had moved so slowly that it had taken till naptime to pass out of sight.

But now, the embers had cooled. What had been a wall of fire in the broad daylight, was now down to one last pebble of red ember in the dark night, and it was fading, fading… fading...

Gone.

All was black. Gibad strained his eyes. “I’m scared, Bat-bat,” he whispered. “I can’t see anything.”

His six tiny orange fingers felt his soft friend. He felt the glossy smoothness of Bat-bat’s eye, and the string it hung by. He stroked the single claw. And he remembered that Bat-bat was a ferocious fighter. He still had a claw. If the Koterans came to get him, Bat-bat would keep him safe.

But… Daddy never said the Koterans were mean. He always said they were weak and would be easily… easily… he remembered the word. “… conquered,” he said out loud.

“Bat-bat, I don’t think Daddy conquered them. I think maybe they got mad and conquered us instead.”

Gibad had been a brave little boy, as brave as he could be, but now he thought there was no reason to be brave. There was no one to be brave for. “Bat-bat, I think we are alone.” Gibad stroked the plush softness of what he knew in the dark to be a red coat, stroked it harder than he ever had, as if his life depended on it, and wept until sleep overtook him.

***

Gibad woke to the pink sunrise sneaking through the crack in the cave and shining in his eyes.

Gibad dared to peek around Bat-bat, to the strange hazy, smoky sight of the blackened village. Nothing but charred stumps and gray cinder, and skeletons of houses, looking like the ones he liked to make from broken twigs.

“What should we do, Bat-bat?” He was relieved to see his bamabat’s funny grimace, and hanging eye, and soft red coat. “I don’t like the dark. I’m glad it’s morning. Aren’t you?”

Bat-bat nodded back and forth to Gibad’s prompting.

“Should we go out?”

Bat-bat stared back in silence with a dangling eye.

“Maybe we could just take a look.”

Gibad scooted closer to the opening. He wriggled through the crack—not all the way, just most of the way, so he could see better. And he gasped.

“Look, Bat-bat! Do you see it?” He stuck his bamabat out of the crack to show him. “It’s your brother! Your real brother!”

There before him, looming at four meters high, was a living, breathing bamabat, its crimson fur glossy from meticulous grooming. Someone had taken very good care of this one. A black, shiny saddle perched on his sloped back, and his jet-black eyes did look like jewels. His funny lopsided sneer made him look comical—that was the appeal of bamabats. They looked like they couldn’t hurt a fly. Their eight claws on each front paw told another story. One swipe could kill a hundred men. At least that’s what Daddy always said. Now, Gibad realized that it probably wasn’t true. Maybe one man.

People were afraid of bamabats. But Gibad loved them. And he loved Bat-bat. Maybe as much as he loved Daddy, and Grandma. He already loved this real one too. He just knew a bamabat could never, ever hurt him. And so, Gibad wriggled further and stepped out of the cave. After the terrifying night, Gibad found his face wet with tears of relief and joy. It was like a dream. His favorite animal in the universe had come to save him!

Gibad stood, his face beaming, and he stretched out his little orange fingers. “Hello, Mr. Bamabat. I’m Gibad!”

The bamabat turned to Gibad, towering over him with his long neck craned, and snorted, spraying wet sandy snot.

Gibad laughed, wiping the slime off his face. “You’re funny! Can I pet you?”

The bamabat flicked his red pointed ears back and clawed the ground.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Hey! Get back, kid!” a booming voice with a strange accent shouted in alarm.

Gibad turned to see a huge green man stomping frantically toward him. A Koteran! Gibad froze in fear. The man, with a blue-black full beard and gray armor, grabbed the bamabat’s reins. “Don’t you know you could have been killed, little man? A bamabat can rip you to shreds!”

Gibad didn’t know what to think. So, he held up Bat-bat. Somehow, he thought that would help explain that they were friends.

Gibad watched the man walk his bamabat to a blackened post and tie him there. Gibad thought to run for his cave. The giant Koteran could never reach him in there.

But the green man didn’t look angry. He looked worried, the way Daddy looked when Gibad was hurt or sick. The man approached Gibad. Walked right up to him and took a knee. He was so close, and so still, that Gibad dared to touch his bushy dark beard. It was softer than it looked. Spongy.

“I am Kerrvo. Where’s your family?” he looked around, his eyes watering at the devastation. He closed his eyes and hung his chin low.

“Daddy is in the sky. Grandma is in the house.” Gibad didn’t look at the house. He didn’t want to see it because he knew that it was all burnt up.

Kerrvo nodded. They both were silent for a moment. Gibad noticed Kerrvo’s ears were pierced with large black hoops, and he had dark gray boots so large that Gibad could have stood on them with both feet.

Gibad whispered, “They are gone, aren’t they?”

Kerrvo nodded sadly. “Yes, little man. My family on my planet is gone too. And my childhood village, and most of my country. Maybe you and I can make a promise. No more war. I don’t like it, and I bet you don’t either.”

Gibad felt his eyes burning. “Did you kill my daddy?”

“No. But my people did. And your people killed my family. And I think that’s pretty terrible, and stupid, and a waste, don’t you?”

Gibad’s shoulders trembled, but he tried once more to be brave, as his daddy would want him to be. “I always thought war was stupid.”

“Yeah. You’re pretty smart, for such a little man.”

“My name is Gibad. Are you a warrior?”

Kerrvo sighed deeply. “No, Gibad. I was just sent here to survey the land. I am actually a simple bamabat rancher.”

Gibad’s eyes widened. “How many bamabats do you have?”

Kerrvo held back a grin, noting the boy’s enthusiasm. “Seventy-nine. Amazingly, my ranch was spared. And those bamabats back home need feeding and training and riding, and I sure could use some help…”

Gibad beamed. And then something felt funny in his belly. He frowned. “My daddy doesn’t like Koterans.”

Kerrvo nodded. “Yes, I figured. There’s a lot of that going around. My daddy didn’t like your people either.”

Gibad glared. “What’s wrong with my people?”

“Same as what’s wrong with my people. They like to fight.”

Gibad squeezed Bat-bat, confused. “I don’t like to fight.”

Kerrvo let out a sad, soft rumbling chuckle. “I don’t like to fight, either. I like to play with bamabats.”

Gibad got another funny feeling in his belly. Sort of a guilt, and a confusion. “I like to play with bamabats. It’s my favorite thing in the whole world.”

Kerrvo nodded to Bat-bat. “May I? I promise I’ll be very careful.”

Gibad reluctantly released his grip.

“Well,” said Kerrvo, giving Bat-bat a serious inspection, “he’s got a wonky eye.” Kerrvo squinted at Gibad suspiciously. “Did he get this wound in battle?”

Gibad giggled, incredulous. “No. I pulled on his eye when I was little, to see what would happen.”

“I see. When you were little, huh?”

Gibad nodded, wondering why Kerrvo was trying not to laugh.

Kerrvo took off his military insignia pin and shoved the needle through a wad of thread still stuck to the back of Bat-bat’s eye jewel. He secured it to Bat-bat’s face, tucking the pin beneath the jewel so it wouldn’t show. “There. Good as new. I bet he can see a whole lot better now.”

Gibad grabbed Bat-bat and pressed the plush red spot against his cheek and was flooded with confusion and sorrow. “I want my daddy.”

“I know, little man. I’m sorry. I’m real, real, sorry.” He sank to the ground and let the boy cry.

“I don’t like you. I don’t like Koterans. I want my daddy, I want my daddy, I want my daddy.”

“I know. I know. I wish I could fix it for you. I really do. This whole universe is a little bit crazy.”

“I don’t like you!” Gibad shouted. He kicked Kerrvo hard in the shin and ran to his cave, squeezing into the crack.

Gibad wriggled through to the tiny cavern, but instantly was overtaken with fear and the terrible memory of the bad sounds and the raining fire. He didn’t want to be there, but he couldn’t go out. The bad man was out there. The man his daddy hated. He was big, and green, and he was Koteran. So, he was bad.

He hugged Bat-bat, feeling the coolness of the eye jewel. He held the jewel to his puffy eyes, swollen from crying and smoke. The jewel felt good, and Gibad was glad the eye was fixed.

Except a bad man fixed it. A very, very bad man. Daddy was dead. Bad man. Bad, bad Koterans–all of them.

Gibad grabbed the eye in a rage and tried to pull it off. “Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!” he shouted. But as hard as he pulled, the jewel stayed put. Soft filtered light shone on Bat-bat’s face. Bat-bat looked sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull your eye.” Gibad lay on the ground and sobbed inconsolably.

***

It was pitch black when he woke. He thought he was back in his room at home. At first. But he felt the sand and stone beneath him and remembered. And he was so hungry and thirsty. He was confused. It had been morning, and now it was night. Had he slept all day? And where was Kerrvo? “Hello?” he called out timidly.

“Hello, little man. I was getting worried,” came a voice from just outside the cave. “I have some dinner for you. Come on. You don’t have to look at me or talk, and you can hate my guts and kick my shin all you want to. I promise I’ll just sit here and take it. Okay?”

Gibad wriggled through the crack and poked out his head, ashen. “I don’t want to hate. It gives me a stomachache.”

“Me too.” Kerrvo handed Gibad a canteen, who drank deeply, and then he handed Gibad a ration bar that smelled like bread and salt.

Gibad took a cautious bite, then ravenously chomped on the dense malty brick. Finally, Gibad stared up at the stars. “Where will I live now?”

Kerrvo let the question linger in the night air, as he put away the canteen and rations. “First things first. We’ve had our dinner. Now, it’s the bamabat’s turn.”

Gibad jumped to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest. “Can I feed the bamabat?”

Kerrvo strode on ahead to hide a smile, his tall body leaning down to grab his bucket of seed. “Do a good job, little man, and I’ll let you feed all seventy-nine of ‘em.”