Far From Impostors - Full Short Story
Motion To Become
The rain clicked against Nana’s helmet on my head while I checked my line of sight. At a distance, three Walkers approached the river. I lowered my head without breaking eye contact and grabbed my trail pack.
My wristpad vibrated, marking fifty-four sleeps. Only six to go before the long night came. I had to be prepared.
I always wondered where the sun went when it finally slept. It must have been tired after watching us for so long. Now it waited on the horizon, under a pale blue sky brushed with gold, reminding us that darkness was coming.
A crackling sound echoed behind me. It felt close.
It could be another forest creature, or worse: more Walkers. Nana said Venus never stayed calm when packs passed through. No landers had come in her lifetime.
All my stuff was far behind me inside the tent. The ration flour was there, the dust Nana taught me to pat into golden yellow discs she called arepas.
For her, it was very important to flip them evenly on both sides.
“Where did I park the house, again?” I asked.
Keeping track was difficult. Nana had been the wayfinder. I had learned the path, not the way. “Look ahead and back,” she used to say.
“Right now, Nana, I have three Walkers ahead and one unknown behind me,” I said, keeping my voice low.
The tent wasn’t that far, close enough for me to hear its flapping against the wind. The rain slowly faded. If the wind started to sing, the tent would sing with it.
Knowing my house’s position was my advantage. They still had to find it.
I sprinted as fast as I could, paced my steps, and evaded the large trees. Eyes ahead, look back. That was the wayfinder rule.
A small beeping sound came through Nana’s helmet. I knew what it meant.
“Proximity detected.”
The run was taking a toll on my breathing. The tent was visible in the distance.
“Four, two, zero.” Inhale. Exhale.
I jumped over two stacked pieces of debris, slipped, and smashed through the window of a house buried under the forest. I fell into a dark cave, slamming against storage containers on the way down before hitting the floor hard.
I slowly opened my eyes. Flickering lights barely illuminated the darkness around me. “Did I break Nana’s helmet?” I asked, touching the visor to feel for cracks.
The floor was warm and gray, with a metallic texture. Sunlight came from above, but not enough to show me where I had landed.
I reached for my trail pack, but it was gone. I looked up to find my way out. Then I tried to move.
Something had caught me. Two hands wrapped around my ankle and pulled me away from the light, into the dark.
“Keep quiet,” a voice said.
“Oh, no. No!”
“Quiet. You already made quite a scandalous noise.”
A shape moved past me and closer to the sunlight coming through the ceiling. “I always wanted a skylight for my house. Thank you!”
“Are you a Walker?” I asked.
“I was. I no longer am.”
A large cloth covered most of his figure. A shiny helmet was the only visible feature.
“Don’t move. Stay there.”
“Can I leave?”
“You can. Just not through the brand new entrance.”
He picked up a large door from the side and covered the opening in the ceiling. Everything went dark. I clicked the lights in Nana’s helmet on and off, but they refused to stay on.
The three lights under my chin kept flickering, crackling softly in the dark.
“I can repair that. Don’t worry,” the voice echoed through the room, deep and heavy. I had no idea where it was coming from.
“I just want to go,” I said.
“You can go. Please take the only door I have left.” He pointed a flashlight toward my exit.
I stood up, dusted myself off, and walked toward the door.
“Look ahead and back,” the voice said behind me through the darkness. The phrase didn’t just stop my feet; it stopped my breath.
I couldn’t move. “What did you say?”
“Look ahead and back.” The words reverberated against my neck.
I touched Nana’s helmet softly, its flickering lights cutting through the dark. “Do you have a name?” I asked.
“I no longer have one.” Footsteps approached me, then the door.
I turned around to face the heavy steps coming toward me. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just going to step out,” I said.
The shape beneath the cloth was finally close enough for me to see. He was a man with long hair, a half-shaved beard, and bright hazel eyes.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am me and you are you.”
“I don’t have time for riddles. Tell me,” I said.
“I do have a book copy of those somewhere around here. Unless you buried it during your indoor parachuting.”
“You should ask whoever put glass on your ceiling.”
“Debris and glass are all that remain,” he said.
“Okay. I will just step out and leave you with… all of whatever this is.”
“Tell me, child. Am I danger or change?” His voice was steady.
“I don’t know. That makes you a stranger. I should avoid strangers.”
“Yes, you should,” he said. “Your wayfinder taught you well.”
“Nana,” I said.
“Your Nana must be waiting for you. It’s time for you to go on.” He opened the door, and a blinding light streamed into the room.
The air was thick and warm. I closed my eyes and stepped outside.
The nearly black trees dripped water from the last rain, their abundant branches enough for me to hide. Behind me, the house smelled like old dust.
“She’s with the stars now,” I said.
“Still, she waits.”
He stood in the shadows, waiting for me to turn around so he could close the door.
“She told me the way.”
“She taught you how to find one,” he said.
I nodded and turned toward the dark forest, the door closing behind me softly. I paused for a breath, tempted to look back, then pushed forward.
The wind picked up speed and the tent sang with it. I knew where to go. I walked off-trail to keep a better line of sight without being spotted. Nana’s rules taught me how to survive danger. She had not taught me what to do with change.
The wind was blowing faster than ever before. The tent was no longer singing.
I stood still.
“Look ahead and back.”
I looked back. At a distance, the man from the house was walking off-trail and toward me.
“Are you following me?” I asked.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
“Why, may I ask?”
“You forgot your trail pack.”
He set the pack on the ground and turned back toward his house.
“You are a very odd man,” I said.
“I guess that’s my new name.” He didn’t even turn.
I picked up the trail pack; it felt off balance. The strap had been ripped and stitched back together. Strong enough for me to move forward.
Nana used to say hands told more truth than mouths ever could.
“Hands can also lie,” I muttered to myself. “How can you tell when hands are building traps, Nana?”
I looked ahead. The tent was silent.
I looked back. Oddman was walking away.
One thing was missing. No proximity detected. I touched the chin guard, and the flickering amber lights drew my hand in a bright silhouette against the dark branches behind me.
“Nana’s helmet was barely working.”
All her teachings have kept me alive through many sleeps since she departed. I didn’t think going with a stranger was what Nana would have done.
I grabbed my trail pack, crossed its strap over my chest, and kept moving forward.
The terrain felt uneven in this part of the forest. Dark roots pushed through the ground, and the branches barely allowed me to pass.
The eye of the sun was halfway closed now, low on the horizon, and the wind was singing louder than before.
I finally got a visual of my tent from a clean line of sight, hidden enough that I couldn’t be spotted.
Walkers were all over it. I counted four.
The ones from the river, it seemed.
I lowered my head just like Nana told me, behind the roots, and watched them.
One Walker stood outside my tent while the others moved in and out. My chest wouldn’t stay quiet; my heart felt like a hammer knocking against my ribs from the inside. I kept wondering what Nana would do if she were standing right beside me.
“Nana, help me.”
No answer.
I waited for hours, but they refused to leave my tent. I considered confronting them, but that went against my teachings, and I would not dare break her heart.
My eyes gave up on me for what felt like an instant.
I snapped back into position and saw them carrying pieces of my house into the open.
I tried to keep myself still. I did.
But something inside me broke.
“I am looking ahead, Nana, and I see devastation.”
The moment they disappeared into the forest, I broke cover.
The air left my lungs. I ran to the tent and stepped inside. The solar charging unit, air filters, my blanket.
“I am not a wayfinder. How can I be? They stole everything from me.”
All of it. Gone.
I stepped outside the tent. The sleepy sun was still clinging to the horizon, but it was lower now.
Six sleeps left.
Six sleeps before the long night took the sky.
And they had taken the solar charging unit, the air filters, my blanket, and every arepa ration I had.
“Why? Just why?”
The hammer turned into a drill inside me.
Only one word could possibly push through the noise: “Walkers.”
I rushed down through the dark vines and deep roots. I felt like any obstacle was too small for me, so I jumped across the uneven side of the forest that took me hours before.
I found the trail to that house and ran to its door.
I opened it. A stream of light flooded the house with the same rage I carried.
Oddman was sitting in a large chair, reading a book.
“Your Walkers stole everything from me. Everything!”
“You insist on breaking into my house,” he said.
“Don’t give me that, you thief.”
“And you, trespasser. Labels are dangerous.”
“Dangerous? I didn’t take anything from you. They did. You did. You Walkers take everything you want.”
“Labels,” he said. “You are too quick to cast judgment.”
I pointed at him. “They stole all my stuff. Which part am I missing?”
“Have you ever considered that they waited for you to return?”
Oddman placed the book on his lap.
“Have you ever considered they were as hungry as you are now?”
“Yes, of course I did,” I said.
“Trespasser and liar. The labels keep mounting.”
“Don’t turn this on me. This is on you and your Walkers.”
“There are no Walkers in this house.”
“You were one. They left me with nothing.”
He closed the book slowly.
“Then they shouldn’t have, and their wayfinder should have known better.”
I took a deep breath and placed my trail pack on the floor.
Oddman looked toward the open door, where the forest behind me was surely watching.
“Anything I say in their favor would defend them. Anything I say against them would sentence them.”
That filled me with rage. Why was he making the world so complicated? Walkers stole, end of story.
“I ask again. Am I change or am I danger?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“And that’s the wayfinder rule. By learning what you don’t.”
“Not knowing? How can you find your way if you don’t know?” I said.
“I am a bus driver and you didn’t know that.”
“Bus driver? But you live here in this off-trail house,” I said.
“And all bus drivers live in one particular kind of house?”
I couldn’t piece it together. I was surely being misled.
“You need new supplies, I need a collector. Is that a job you could do?” he asked.
“Collector? To collect what?”
He stood up from the chair, moved slowly toward me, and reached above the door.
A few metal clicks rang together. A set of keys hung there.
“You ready?” he said.
He stepped outside and started walking toward the left side of the house. I stood still for a moment before following him. If he noticed my hesitation, he did not care.
Two gray metal doors stood on the side of the house, each marked with a large number turned upside down.
Zero Nine.
Bold blue letters, rusted corners, and clearly scrapped from some facility long ago.
“The collector’s job. Your task is to greet people and claim payment for the ride,” he said, his voice barely audible from the outside.
An engine ignited with a roar that vibrated through my entire body. Nana’s helmet caught the noise with a warning beep, muting the speakers before it could rip my ears.
Two headlights above me, then four more below, streaming light into the forest.
I stepped aside and let it pass.
For all its mechanical fury, the machine was compact, rectangular, and heavy. It sat low on six small tires, its metallic yellow doors sliding open right in front of me.
“Is this a bus?” I asked.
“A modified cargo rover,” Oddman said.
“How many people can it carry?”
“Ten, or eleven. Depending on the day.”
I stepped inside, and the doors closed behind me. It had a small corridor down the middle and seats on each side, making it feel like a bus.
“I take two large rounds, and we should be back here by the end of the day,” Oddman said.
“Aren’t you afraid of strangers?” I asked.
“Why would I be? They haven’t done anything. They are strangers.”
Oddman punched two buttons, grabbed the wheel, and we moved forward. I could barely feel any vibration; the trees passing through the windows were the only indication of our movement.
The bus slowly slipped into a dark cave. At a distance, a small flickering light waited for us.
I looked through the windshield. It was a beacon, mounted on the cave wall. Once we passed it, another light appeared farther ahead.
This one was brighter.
The bus kept a steady speed toward it, until the light grew too bright to be another beacon.
It was a tunnel exit.
“I don’t get you, you know?” I said.
“How would you? You don’t know me,” Oddman said.
“Are you a wayfinder?” I asked.
“I was. I no longer am.”
“So, you are a book reader, a bus driver, and a repairman.”
He glanced at the mirror hanging above his head, catching my eye as I stood in the little corridor. “Labels. You insist on placing them. Like that would define a person.”
I sat down and met his eyes in the mirror. “How else are you going to survive?”
“Do you think your Nana wanted you to be this judgmental?” Oddman asked.
“I live because of her. Following Nana’s rules has kept me alive. I won’t betray her.”
The bus made a slow turn toward a corridor of completely unexplored territory. Through the glass, I saw clusters of small houses elevated above the water on tall pillars.
“Look, our first passenger is here,” Oddman said.
The bus stopped slowly, and the yellow doors slid open with a sharp hiss. A woman stepped inside.
“Hello,” she said.
“Well, hi,” I said.
A lady held a handful of smooth, dark stones and attempted to hand them to Oddman.
“Thank you. Please give those to my collector,” he said, nodding toward me.
I grabbed the payment and nodded. “You didn’t tell me how much the ride costs.”
“It doesn’t have a price. If they don’t have enough to pay, don’t charge them,” Oddman said.
“Wouldn’t that make it so that you cannot afford to ride this bus?”
“I will just make my next trip shorter,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What about tomorrow, when people won’t have a bus to go anywhere?”
“Tomorrow is never guaranteed,” he said.
“If it comes, I’ll make a shorter trip. But I am here now.”
“You do know the night is coming in just a few sleeps,” I said. “We should be gathering filters and securing shelter, not riding a bus going nowhere.”
“What do you think we are doing?” Oddman said.
The lady stood from her seat and looked through the windshield, searching the distance for something.
“Wherever you can. Thank you,” she said.
Oddman slowly pulled the bus beside a small tree. She nodded and stepped out.
Outside, more people were waiting to get inside. They slowly hopped onboard, and I held out both hands to catch their dark stones.
We kept driving through a place I had never seen before. I wondered if Nana had even known it existed.
The houses hung just above the water, an endless row of small cubes held up by thin pillars. The pillars protected them from the floods that often came with dawn.
“Beautiful houses,” I said.
The woman sitting in front turned to look at me.
“Palafitos,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Before I could answer, there was a screeching sound and people got thrown to the front of the bus.
Everything stopped.
The whole horizon at a distance turned to one side. The woman in front screamed and the dark stones I carried rolled across the floor under the seats.
“Is everyone okay?” Oddman asked.
A few murmurs came from the seats. “I’m okay,” someone said and then another.
I checked Nana’s helmet and looked for cracks. It was difficult for me to move. The murmurs slowly turned into groans.
People got hurt.
Through the windshield, I saw water rushing across our path. I lowered my head without breaking eye contact and grabbed one person’s hand.
I saw people running towards us and away from the water.
Walkers.
“No,” I said.
They kept running and went past us. I heard them talking outside, then noise from the back and steps coming from above.
“Great. Now they are going to steal some stones,” I whispered.
“Over here,” Oddman said.
“Does everyone have a functioning helmet?” they screamed from the outside.
“Everyone, please check your helmets,” Oddman said.
I grabbed the edge of my seat, planted one foot against the side, and pulled myself up with both hands on the bus to keep my balance.
“Helmets,” I said. “Check your helmets.”
One by one, the passengers lifted their hands. Thumbs up. Signal lights. Broken voices.
“Four, two, zero,” I counted.
“Confirmed?” Oddman asked from the front.
“Confirmed!” I said from the back.
They hammered that glass like there was no tomorrow. The water at the distance kept mounting slowly.
The glass shattered.
They took Oddman first.
“Leave him alone,” I yelled.
The Walkers breached the bus one by one. I didn’t have anywhere to run. Nana’s helmet emitted no light. I saw multiple lights rushing towards me.
Something had caught me. Two hands wrapped around my ankle and pulled me away from the dark, into the light.
“Are you okay?” they said.
“Take everyone,” Oddman said, groaning from pain. “The heat stones to the shelter too.”
“The flood came before dawn. It will freeze and bury us in the night,” a Walker said.
“Help me turn the bus around. I’ll pick up as many as I can,” Oddman said.
He nodded at me. “Go with them.”
I looked at the passengers sitting on the side of the road.
I looked at the bus and the dark stones under the seats.
Then I went back inside and grabbed as many as I could carry.
“Take heat stones,” I said.
Two Walkers looked at me.
“Please,” I added.
They nodded and moved away with the passengers slowly.
Three Walkers stayed behind with me and Oddman. He already had two hands on the ceiling of the bus. “Ready?” he said.
We all started to push the bus on its side. It barely moved. We kept pushing and it started to give and swing like a pendulum.
“This is like turning a big arepa,” I said.
“One more!” Oddman yelled.
The bus flipped and the six wheels landed on the ground hard, pushing smoke all around us.
The bus was back in position.
“I’ll bring the rest,” he said. “Get them to shelter.”
Oddman opened the two yellow doors and went back inside, his breathing slow and heavy.
The Walkers started moving. I looked past them. I couldn’t see the shelter, only countless helmet lights gathered in the distance, standing together against the rising water.
I followed the Walkers with both hands pressing the heat stones against my stomach.
By the time we arrived, most people had already gone underground. The shelter was not the big building I expected. It was a round hole in the earth, hidden between dark roots.
A green stair dropped straight down through the dirt and into a cabin. It was a clearly illuminated room in impeccable condition. Clean and smooth, nothing like the forest above. The walls were pristine carbon fiber, untouched by the rain, cold, roots, or time itself.
Nana had taught me about forests, rivers, tents, and trails. We never talked about underground doors. I wondered if she ever knew.
I took a deep breath, turned around, and placed both of my hands against the edges of the hole to drop down.
I spent time talking to people inside, helping prepare food, cleaning, and making everyone comfortable. I felt like I had to earn my keep.
We had food, heat, and shelter. For the first time, each other.
A large locker held all the supplies. Two chairs faced me. I walked toward them, reached the edge of one with both hands, and sat down, my trail pack still hanging on my chest. I dropped like the rain. I was out for good.
I slept for what felt like all the remaining sleeps, until the night came.
Oddman did not return.
“I finally understand Nana. Look ahead for change and look back for wisdom.”
I grabbed Nana’s helmet. I reached up and clicked the chin guard. The three flickering amber lights, the lights that had been my only guide, vanished. Total darkness.
“I am going after him.”
I walked through the corridor and into the cabin toward the exit. Two Walkers guarded the green stairs inside the cabin.
“Wait, wait. Where are you going?” one said.
I grabbed my trail pack, crossed its patched-together strap over my chest, and kept moving forward.
“You either come with me to find anyone needing shelter or you stay here,” I said.
“What should we do?” one of them asked.
“Look ahead and back.”
“Aren’t you scared?” the other said.
I looked up to the doorway, where the long night waited.
“I was. I no longer am.”
Progress: 3,857 of 3,857 words
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