Gazing at Sirius

[Pippi]

((Matthew Omeruo continued from Ad Astra Per Aspera))

Tracking another person was not as easy a task as he had been hoping for.

Following the boy across the open fields of this island had not been the difficult part. It was, after all, simply a stretch of open grassland, with no hills or ditches for him to disappear out of sight in, now that they had left the river behind. If he had been so inclined, he could have imagined that they were just on a very large football pitch presently, and that he was running back to the penalty area of his team to make an important block.

The problem instead came from the belongings that he was carrying. Neither of them were designed to be carried while chasing somebody on foot. The straps of the bag had started to dig into his shoulders very quickly. The bag itself was bouncing against his back, as though it was trying to push him forwards onto his stomach. The trident was not easy to hold properly, and it constantly tried to slip out of his grasp as he ran, or catch his shins midway through his stride to trip him up.

And so, with every brief moment of less than a second that it took for Matthew to adjust his bag, or to wipe his palms clean of sweat, the other boy got further and further away.

It might have been a different story, if the one only known as ‘Nutboy’ had not been similarly athletic to Matthew himself. If the item in his hands that he had stolen away had not been so lightweight and easy to manhandle. But this was not how things had turned out in this version of the tale. And because of this, eventually, with his heart sinking to the very bottom of his shoes, Matthew lost sight of the other boy as he reached the edge of the treeline.

It would not be easy to find him within this jungle that loomed before him. He could see, even simply standing here in front of it, how much darker it got in between the trees. There were a lot of locations to hide in, or behind, and a lot of shadows that someone could get lost in. He could not even be certain that the other boy had even gone into this forest. Perhaps he had walked in, moved behind a few trees, and immediately left again?

But, there was just as much of a likelihood that he was in there presently, moving even further away with the crutch that he had taken from Artie, making his escape with every second that Matthew spent standing in front of these trees.

So Matthew made his way inside too. He looked from his left to his right as he walked, moving forwards in a straight line, so as to best avoid getting himself too lost. He was following what might have been a shadow, or a ghost, he was certainly aware of this. He had already lost the other boy; perhaps he had already made it to the other side of the island by now? There was no way of telling, however. And, what were the other options that he had? Austin and Katherine had both gone their separate ways, and he did not wish to attempt to track down Artie again until he had something for his efforts. Whether that was her crutch, or the fact that he had given his complete best attempt at recovering it, would remain to be seen.

So he continued to walk forwards, with eyes like an owl and ears like a bat, remaining vigilant for any sort of movement and any sudden noise. The torch which he had plucked from his bag shone a bright light ahead of him, displaying tree roots and strange plants, and throwing up shadows that looked as though they were about to reach out towards him and pull him deeper and deeper inside.

He walked. And then he walked some more. He walked until the aches that had been consuming his legs moved up to the rest of his body as well, and then he walked a further distance still. But he was just human. He could not move forever. He had to take a rest eventually.

And so, as he sat down on the earth and closed his eyes and pressed his back against the trunk of a tree, a tree that he had never seen before in his life, not even in his textbooks or his studying on the internet, Matthew knew that this chase was over.



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He woke up early the next morning. He had always been accustomed to doing so back at home. His studies, his sport of choice, and his faith all required an early start, and so it was very rare for him to awaken later than 7 in the morning; even now, when had only managed to take around half the usual amount of sleep he aimed for.

He rubbed his eyes, and he yawned. He stretched his arms, and he pushed himself up off of the ground, brushing away as much of the dirt that had gathered on his shorts as he could. He drank from the bottle of meal replacement. He went through the series of light exercises he always performed after waking up. He prayed. He relieved himself. He drank and washed with a little of his precious supply of water.

It was quite shocking just how similar to his normal morning routine this all felt. If he looked directly upwards, and gazed at the golden morning light filtering through the canopy of leaves over his head, it was almost as though he was staring at a gap in his curtains, back in his bedroom back in Lagos.

But when he blinked, the illusion disappeared. He was standing on dirt, rather than on wooden floorboards. His bag was settled in between the roots of a tree and a curling vine, instead of between a small square desk and an official Enyimba International F.C. football. The trundling sound of the very old and rusty van that belonged to the local scrap metal collector had been replaced by the noise of unfamiliar birds, and of unseen animals scampering about in the undergrowth.

This was not his home, and it would never be his home, no matter how many tricks he attempted to play on himself and on his mind, and no matter how many similarities there may have been. The metal collar fastened around his neck was a permanent reminder of that. It did not even need the sudden burst of noise, like a startled and wounded animal, one that caused Matthew to drop the trident held in his hands, to reinforce this fact.

However, it was still a reinforcement he was going to pay attention to. Jack, and those who followed him, had managed to kidnap children from across the world, and had been able to outfit them with weapons and food and water. A collar which exploded upon command sounded incredibly absurd. It was like an idea had been taken from one of the cheap American action movies his schoolmates enjoyed so much, and placed into the real world.

But Matthew was beginning to realise now that very few things were in fact impossible any longer.



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Matthew spent the rest of the day just outside of the rainforest.

Once again, he did not have anywhere else he needed to go other than into the forest. His situation had not changed since the previous night, after all. He did not feel as though he had truly made enough strides to amend for his mistake at the bridge yet. And he felt as though the chances of ‘Nutboy’ having made his way through the forest during the cover of the previous night were more likely than they were not. If he had made it to the clearing that was on the other side of the forest, as his map was telling him there was such a thing, then he would have been stranded there through the whole night. He had to be there still, right now. And maybe, if Matthew was fortunate, they would run into one another. And, if he was even more fortunate still, they would be able to resolve this entire situation without any violence being dealt.

That, too, was another reason as to why Matthew believed it was reasonable for him to remain where he was for the time being. He was not exactly in a particularly sheltered area, sitting just outside of the forest as he was. There were very few clouds in the sky today, and visibility was clear. He was just kneeling out in the clear, on one edge of a flat and open field, his hands together and his eyes closed.

But was it truly any more dangerous than any of the areas that looked as though they would provide more safety, such as the farmhouse, or an enclosed building within the village? Matthew thought that the answer to that question was a no. People were still dying on this island. In fact, a great deal more people had died in comparison to the first announcement. It was hard for him to imagine - because he did not want to imagine anything of the sort - but they had very likely been in so-called safety when they had been struck down. There were captives out here who believed that they had no choice but to kill. They would not be swayed by closed doors, or barricades.

There was no such thing as a home anymore. There was no such thing as safety. Nothing, not even that which had once been familiar, was normality any longer.

This was even more reason, as far as Matthew saw it, why he could not, and would not, let any harm or misfortune come to those who he encountered.

He did not spend the remainder of the day doing all too very much. He ate. He drank. He breathed this fresh and clean air, cooling and, almost, calming. With the exception of the voice of Jack, bodyless and yet demanding all attention, he was undisturbed.

Most of all, he prayed.

He prayed for those who had died. Those people who he had never met before, and who he should never have met in an ideal world, yet had been thrust, unjustly, into his life with the news of their untimely and unfair deaths. He uttered the same prayer that he had done for the first set of deaths; a prayer that, wherever they were now, it was somewhere that they had believed in and that they wished to go to.

He prayed for those who had killed. He prayed that God would forgive them for their actions, that He would understand, that He would show them the love that they deserved. Matthew refused to believe that any of the people who had taken the life of someone else on this island would have done such a horrible thing back in their home, at school while surrounded by their friends. It was not an idea that made any kind of sense to him. They had all been put in a horrible, and very scary situation, and Jack had offered them a way out of it. He could feel sorrow and heartbreak at their actions. But he could not hate them for what they did.

He prayed for his family. He hoped that they were all fine. He did not know whether Jack and his fellows had done anything to them. Had they hurt his mother, or his father, or Mark, in their efforts to try and secure him? He had no way of being able to tell. All he could do was offer up a prayer to the Lord, that they were safe, that they were unharmed, and that they were not filled with despair at his disappearance. Above anything else, no matter what happened to him, he hoped for this the very most.

And lastly, and shortly, he prayed for himself. For good luck and safety, if He willed it, in his search for the other boy and the lost crutch. For thanks to the Lord for watching over him and caring for him all of his life.

And for forgiveness for the mistakes that he had made, and love, if something went wrong, for a member of the flock who had tried his very best.

It was dark again now. The light from his torch cast long shadows against the grass, and up the tall trunks of the trees standing tall ahead of him. It was time to move once again now. He did not speak as he gathered his belongings and made sure his bag was secure on his back. He squeezed the cross hanging around of his neck for a moment.

Then, he replaced it in his hand with the trident, the metal cool to the touch after lying in the cool evening grass for an hour. And with light and strength clutched in his fists, Matthew once more made his way into the forest.

((Matthew Omeruo continued in Run From the Sun))