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Epilogue

“Once upon a time, a rock caught fire and burned. It did it so beautifully that space wept and moaned for the rock, stunned by the ignited skin and inaudible cries. Because of its sympathy, that rock was then flooded and drowned. Eventually the fires and the floods understood each other and lived in harmony, but there was more there. The rock wanted to be more than a rock, it wanted to grow things, be a home to the living and free. Fire and Water, although fearful at first, wanted such things too. So air was the first created to protect such living things, and they were born with everything needed to survive. This place, this sanctuary, was at peace. Its name was Earth. The Earth was quiet, and it was not long before new creatures came to be, ones with larger heads and better posture. They called themselves Humans. These Humans, although equipped with natural instincts to survive, had many flaws. These flaws made them greedy and lack understanding toward things different from them. This started with Humans vs. plants, then Humans vs. animals, and then Humans vs. the Earth itself…and eventually Humans vs. Humans. In result of this difference, it began to wear the Earth down. Sick of the neglect, the Earth gave birth to another species…one with the will to survive as Humans had, but without the self-destructive tendencies they carried. They call themselves Syncs. The Sync population began to grow and learn things from the Humans. And still, the time came when the differences between Sync and Human were too strong to ignore. Many Humans with power were misguided, and they pushed us out. In fact, that’s why they gave us this desert, they figured we should live in the place that best resembles how they saw us: Empty. But, what the humans failed to realize was the amazing quality of those species that live in the desert; Their ability to thrive under all the pressure in the world. So, with the help of far and few kind Humans, we were able to thrive here. And yes, we do still face hardships. Because of our lack of food, we resorted to eating Human remains, even killing when the time was right…and the future generations developed a necessity for the meat. But we get by, and one day, we will be strong enough to take the Earth back from the Humans, and it will prosper again.”

The children looked up at Zana with wide eyes, backs hunched and legs crossed as they listened. “Cool!” one of the little girls vocalized, and the others followed in her hype.

“Well take is a very strong word.”

The children turned around in the middle of the play grounds to see two familiar faces standing there. “Grandma May!” one of the quieter kids yelled, and all the others got up to hug her. May stumbled back a few inches, not old enough to kick any nearby buckets but definitely enough to have a knee replaced.

May’s human hair was grey and thinning, and she balanced at least half of her weight on her cane. She was wearing shorts that exposed the sagginess of her legs and a tank top that exposed the sagginess of her arms, yet she still sweat. Her skin had gotten much darker over the period of time the Syncs had known her, the heat of the desert affecting her more than it did the others.

“Hey, what about me?” The youthful Sync next to May caught the attention of the kids, them now making the effort to hug him next.

“Talon,” Zana called, and Talon looked up at her as she stood. The kids backed away and let the two friends share a fist bump before Zana said, “What’re you doing here? I thought you were on the outskirts of the land trying to gain us more territory?” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Talon sighed. “Yeah, about that—” But May already jumped into the waters, cutting him off.

“It’s a no go,” she put it simply. “Neighbors wouldn’t give up any of their land, we knew that from the start. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Zana said, puzzled by her words. “We need more land May, how else are we going to support the new generation of Syncs?”

“No, May’s right,” Talon interjected. “The last thing we need is more desert. What we need is more supplies, and that’s going to take connections…not land.”

“And I promise I’ll get you some more,” May said, closing her eyes briefly.

“No, I’ll get you more.” Talon and May turned around as May’s daughter approached them, replacing Talon’s supportive hand on May’s elbow and weaving in between the two. “You, on the other hand, are responsible for getting some rest.” May’s daughter glanced at Zana and muttered, “God knows they need you.”

“Oh, but they have you Winnie,” May said, raising her human daughter’s chin up and smiling. Winnie was skinny, some of the Syncs would agree too skinny, and her brown hair was long and thin. She wore a plaid shirt and jean shorts with her Texan boots even though she was countries away from Texas. The fingers that held up May’s elbow were bony and hard, many would agree matching her personality. “When I’m gone, the Syncs have you to lead them into their next fight.” Winnie snuck a look at Talon, and Talon could easily spot the grain of salt in it.

“Come on, let’s go,” Winnie said, and the two walked away.

“Go play kids,” Zana said, and the kids scattered around the sand, kicking it up or rolling in it. Zana walked up to Talon as he watched the two go. “You know we need more than just wishful thinking Talon,” she addressed. “We need land.”

Talon sighed. “Yeah…I know.”

“Ah! Dammit.”

He took his finger away from the cactus’ thorn, plucking it from his skin and sucking on the blood that emerged there.

The little Sync next to him—the thorn he was pressing on having not pierced skin yet—jumped in triumph. He chanted, “I beat Beema! I beat Beema!”

“Yeah that’s because you’re a fresher generation,” Beema said, ruffling the child’s hair. “Anyone can have tougher skin, but it takes a real Sync to be able to withstand pain and blood!” The Sync laughed as Beema snatched him up and twirled him around.

“Beema!”

Beema turned around to see Winnie and May waiting at his medicine stand. Beema sighed and put the kid down. “Go find your mom,” he said and the young Sync ran off as Beema returned to his stand. In the midst of the market, Beema had a small stand where he sold small items like the small Sync he had become, aware that there was a world beyond this one but unable to find it. So he sat at his small stand and sold his small items, because that’s all he could think to do this morning.

“Hello May,” Beema greeted, ignoring Winnie completely. “What can I do you for?”

“Aloe Vera,” Winnie answered. “My mother needs some time to rest rather than wait for you to do your job.”

Beema turned to Winnie and gasped. “Winnie is here! Sorry, I just didn’t see you there.”

“Oh will you two stop it,” May interjected. “The last thing I need is you two bickering.”

Beema sighed, reaching under the stand and grabbing a few Aloe Vera leaves, wrapping it, and handing it over to May. “You know we’re running out, right?”

“Yes yes, I know,” May said. “And I promise I’ll get you some more.”

Beema sighed, that sigh holding an annoyed undertone. “May, you’re running out of relatives and trusted friends still alive willing to help you, and eventually the ones you still have are going to get suspicious enough to come down and see what’s really going on. You’re running out of options. Please, just consider—”

“How many times does my mom have to say no before you get it through your thick skull that this isn’t your property, it’s ours,” Winnie said. “We’re responsible for you and we’ll find a way, now just be patient.”

Beema closed his eyes briefly and opened them a few seconds later, smiling—images of kittens on rainbows bombarding his dark thoughts—and reset himself. “Fine,” he said, voice strained.

Winnie smiled and took May back to their house, leaving Beema with a sour face and a dying rage.

It was later that day as the sun was beginning to set that Talon found himself alone again in his little hut, Zana on her way there.

He heard her approach before she knocked.

“Knock knock, I’m comin’ in,” Zana announced herself before entering. The younger Sync looked up and watched her dark green skin shimmer in the moonlight as she came in. It was supposed to be a tent that could fit only one person, but Zana had come in so much it had stretched out to three max. Talon moved his tail so she could sit. He sniffed once in the cold air Zana had let in, rubbing his already pig-flat nose. She looked down at the notepad in Talon’s hand and the swift movements of his pencil. “What’re you drawing?”

“I’m not drawing, I’m writing,” Talon corrected. “The same thing I’ve been writing for the past…decade, maybe?”

“Well no wonder I don’t know about it, it’s only been a decade—”

“You know what,” Talon dropped his pencil to engage her. “I’m actually a bit offended that you 1st of all, don’t know that and 2nd of all, don’t know when I started writing this book which I’ve told you about every time you come over. Honestly…” Talon stopped and sighed as Zana’s mouth began its journey from ear to ear. “Right, you’re joking.”

“It’s just so funny when you get frustrated,” Zana said, and Talon went back to writing. “Are you going to tell me your new title idea or what?”

Talon paused and looked up at her. He cleared his throat and is shoulders rose. “The Journey of 200.”

Zana’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “200 what?”

His shoulders sunk. “No, as in because…we live to 200. Get it? Because one year is equivalent to two for us so we’d be living until 200…” Talon awaited a response but Zana just stayed silent. “Is it…too much?”

“A little.”

“Hey Beema.”

Beema looked up at Jocelyne, making her way over as her stomach protruded outward and threw her off balance. “Thanks for taking care of Quinten today.”

Beema laid on the bare sand, having laid there since it was still light. He enjoyed the progression of heat to cool on his back, not that he could feel it so much with his thick Sync skin. He had a sketchpad in his grasp and his hand moved slowly over it. “Well I mean I did sort of get him to try and prick his finger on a cactus,” He looked up as Jocelyne began to make her way down. “But you know what, I’ll take the thanks anyway.”

Jocelyne just chuckled, collapsing next to him with a wholesome sigh. “What’re you writing?”

“Not writing, drawing,” Beema corrected. “It’s just a stain idea.”

“Stain idea?” Jocelyne asked, trying to sneak a peek.

“Yeah. I want to try and stain some part of the ground to make a mural for all of us, so we don’t forget where we came from.”

Jocelyne squinted. The picture Beema drew was a portrait of a Sync woman, hair flowing and skin dark and powerful. She looked angelic, despite her eyes. Her eyes, like all Sync eyes, were inverted with a white iris and pupil and a black sclera, which so many humans found terrifying. “You do realize the problem with that, right?” she said in a low voice.

Beema pressed the sketchpad against his chest and sighed. “You mean the fact that it’s all sand and will probably blow away before I’m even done with it? Yes…I realize the issue.”

“Well, I mean it doesn’t have to be on the ground. You could put it on May’s house, could you not?”

“Yeah, but I doubt Winnie would let me,” Beema pouted and turned to look at Jocelyne. “I’ll figure it out though, I always do.”

The two chuckled.

“See, that’s the difference. It’s not ’Journey of the 200’ it’s ’Journey of 200.’ A-Are you seeing the difference?”

“Yeah, I get it but I mean still…it’s just not working for me,” Zana said.

As Talon was about to explain again, cries were heard from outside his hut.

Beema and Jocelyne turned their heads as the commotion grew louder and spread wider. “What’re they yelling?” Jocelyne asked.

“Do you hear that?” Zana asked, turning to Talon.

The screams themselves were minor, but it was what they were screaming that made Beema and Talon’s blood run cold.

“Muerta!”

Death.

Talon nearly trampled Zana as he tore out of his hut. “Talon!” she called after him, but Talon ignored her as he followed the already running crowd of Syncs toward May’s house.

“No,” Beema exhaled heavily, already a mile away once Jocelyne got herself off the ground. She called to him, but he wouldn’t hear her.

Beema and Talon arrived outside the house at the same time but in separate crowds, watching as Winnie came out of the house and collapsed on the sand.

Her body shook as she cried, but still she said nothing. Impatient, Zana ran past Winnie and into the house.

All the Syncs gathered outside, unusually quiet, awaiting the news. Finally, a few seconds later, Zana came back out of the house much slower than she had entered. She stopped right beside Winnie who was still on the ground grieving.

“She’s dead,” Zana announced, and her words triggered a wave of despair across the species. “May is dead!” she repeated, bringing an even louder wave of not just despair but anger.

Among the noise, one of the Syncs called out, “How?!”

“Stroke,” Zana announced. “She was old, not a target. There’s no need to wonder how it happened, just that it did.”

“So, what now!?”

A low chuckle rang out, but it wasn’t among the crowd. Zana looked down at Minnie as her body still shook, but now with laughter instead of sorrow. Her head slowly came up from her hands, the tears still damp on her cheeks. “You’re…You’re asking her?” she questioned, getting to her feet shakily. “I’m the one you should be asking about your future!” she pressed. “This is my land! My property! My mom left it to me! All of you are just pests in my garden! Don’t worry though, I’ll still let you camp out here, but all of it is under my jurisdiction! You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, unless I say it’s okay. But you will work for me. And that’s how you’ll survive…that’s how you’ll live.” Minnie paused, her eyes filling with tears once more. She pointed to the door. “My mom…died of a stroke. She died of stress…she died because of you—!”

“Minnie stop,” Zana said, trying to grab her arm but Minnie moved away.

“Don’t touch me freak!” she exclaimed.

Zana sighed, reaching into her back pocket of her shorts. “The land isn’t yours.” Zana slapped an envelope against Minnie’s chest, stepping forward as the daughter opened it. “It’s ours.” Murmurs settled across the crowd. “Or at least that’s what May wrote in her will.”

“What?” Minnie breathed, reading it. Zana turned to look back at her.

“See, Minnie,” she started. “You are just everything wrong with humanity…and May knew that. She loved you, that was obvious…but she knew that the love you had for her you simply couldn’t share for the rest of us.” Zana gestured to the door with her chin. “I’d go back inside if I were you; this business doesn’t involve you anymore.”

Minnie’s nostrils flared as she and Zana glared at one another, each equally menacing. Still, Minnie snorted and took her advice, turning around and stomping back up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

“So, are you in charge now?” one of the children in the distance inquired anonymously.

“Um, no,” Zana said to the audience’s distaste. “It says that in the will as well. Something about a memoir to match the mural of our history. I didn’t get it but…”

Talon and Beema both looked down at their similar yet separate pads. They turned the specially-designed pages over and over, noticing the small, black-inked writing that May had put in the corner of the cover.

“I want you to do something for me,” May had asked of them, separately of course. But it was all coming together now.

Remember me, she wrote, and neither Talon nor Beema had seen it until then.

And suddenly the two looked up and found each other’s line of sight. They didn’t have to break eye contact to know why they were staring.

Zana, still standing before everyone, followed Talon’s line of sight to Beema and back. It took her a little bit longer to realize what they were both holding in their hands, and what they dabbled in respectively.

“But I believe I understand now,” she said aloud. “A skilled writer and a skilled artist, that just happen to be the most trusted among us, come together to move the Syncs into the next generation of their lives.” When the two still did nothing Zana called, “Beema Keyes and Talon Abrams.”

Talon and Beema looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise at the announcement. Now all eyes were on them. “The throne is yours.”

And then Zana dropped to her knees and lowered her head in respect, and before Talon could tell her how unnecessary it was, the rest of the Syncs followed suit. It went on, until Beema and Talon were the only ones left standing. Again, their eyes fell onto each other, onto a complete stranger that they were about to rule and conquer with.

They shared nothing in common,

Except for the very violent realization that they were screwed.

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