What Lies Beneath

The Johnson family was running across the frozen wastes that made up the oceans this time of year.  For as far as the eye could see, grey skies stretched overhead, and stark white snow lay underfoot.  Behind the Johnson family was the large squadron of soldiers that had been tracking them for days.  It wasn’t until today that they had appeared over the horizon though, so the family started to run.

In the distance they saw pillars rising up from the ice.  Mr. Johnson grinned in elation.  There may be salvation there.  The days spent on the run in the frozen wastes had left them with little hope for the future.  Their food stores were running low and the ice beneath their feet did little to quench their thirst.  This was the first sign they had seen of possible salvation…or anything for that matter.

And so they ran, with both parents carrying the two little children they had with them.  Being part of the line of succession for the Dulath Empire made them political targets.  Mr. Johnson’s brother sought the throne and held much sway in the military, but Mr. Johnson was further ahead in the line of succession.  In fact, Mr. Johnson and the emperor were the only two people standing in the way of Mr. Johnson’s brother from ascending to the throne. And so they were hunted.  Mr. Johnson knew not of the fate of the emperor, but if he had to bet, the Emperor was most likely dead by now.

As they got closer to the pillars, Mr. Johnson saw that they were three pillars joined together at the top like one large stool.  From what he could see, the top was a sort of mesa abundant in snow covered trees.  Other trees dotted the sides of the pillars like hairs on a giant’s leg.  They seemed straight and sturdy.  The pillars themselves jutted up from the ocean like monuments, leaving not shoreline or anything.  Once they drew close enough to touch them, Mr. Johnson saw that they were covered in hand holds perfect for climbing.  He took his youngest son from his wife, slinging the child over his back.  He set his oldest son on the ground.  The boy was skinny and hand spindly arms that were perfect for climbing.

“We climb as high as we can,” Mr. Johnson said.

His wife just nodded, and they set about climbing.  They would go as far as they could before succumbing to the soldiers.  There was no salvation here other than time.  Or at least, that’s what Mr. Johnson had thought.

Before they got more than a couple feet off the ground, the ice shuddered.  He stopped climbing and looked back at the soldiers.   They had stopped in their tracks and were looking at the ice.  It shuddered again, this time cracking beneath their feet.  And a third time, the ice shook, but this time the ocean beneath their feet erupted in a flurry of water, ice, snow, and something writhing in the mess.  When everything settled, the only thing left of the soldier’s was a gaping hole in the ice filled with churned up water.

Mr. Johnson laughed in exaltation.  These pillars had brought them salvation, and what seemed to be a guardian beneath the surface.  What else could it be other than a guardian?  It had not attacked his family but had destroyed the soldiers!  It was at that moment that a plan shot into Mr. Johnson’s head.  They would make this place their home.  They would construct houses on the cliff sides so that they would not sink beneath the waves when the ice melted in the summertime.  He would use the radio in his pack to signal to his friends and family back home that they had found refuge in these pillars.  They would set up a community here…one safe from the ravages of politics and war.

And they set about their labors.  The trees growing from the cliff sides were sturdy and perfect for building with.  The soil at the top of the mesa capping the pillars could be crafted into a rudimentary cement for foundations on the cliff side.  With his own two hands, he built a home for his family during the day and radioed to his friend during the night.  Many responded positively to him, signaling they would travel to the pillars.

Over the coming months, friends and family arrived at the pillars in groups of three or four at a time and they set to work building houses of their own.  The trees on the cliff sides grew back fast even during winter, providing what seemed to be a limitless source of wood to building with and burn.  Before long, the cliffs were dotted with houses.

Life on the cliffs was pleasant.  A constant, strong wind blew.  Often, it threatened to freeze you if you weren’t careful but most of the settlers didn’t care.  The cold wind was a trifle compared to the devastating war they had left behind, and they all had warm clothing.

As the ice melted, waves lapped at the sides of the cliffs.  The ever-present wind always churned the waves surrounding the cliffs.  The ocean shallows surrounding the cliffs provided everything they needed in terms of food.  There was plenty of vegetation for hardy kelp salads and seaweed wrapps.  The fish here was sweet and plentiful as well.  Some of the new arrivals had brought scuba equipment with them and we quickly found out that the shallows only stretched about a quarter mile in every direction and led to a steep drop off into the murky depths of the ocean.  They decided never to go back down because off in the distance, they saw that the depths were filled with leviathans larger than the mind could imagine.  Larger than anything had a right to be.  But it wasn’t just the size that got to them.  It was the shapes as well.  They had tentacles and long spindly limbs.  Some even seemed humanoid.  It was enough to make us not want to wander too far out from the cliff sides and had banished any questions about what had destroyed the soldiers from Mr. Johnson’s mind.

One day, some of the settlers were playing with kites.  They were astounded by the strength of the winds, and one had an idea that was half a joke at first.  He grabbed a cluster of kites and set them loose.  Once he did, he was dragged up into the air with them.  He clung on to them for dear life, but he was gently set down onto the top of one of the houses.  It was at that time they had the brilliant idea of going from house to house using kites, parachutes, and even large sheets at times.  The winds were predictable and steady, so they were quickly mapped out for safe travel.  This town was shaping up to be something out of a dream.  Everything was provided to them, and they were protected by the beasts beneath the waves.

One night, Mr. Johnson was talking with a cousin of his over the radio.  “Frederick, you must join us.  The food here is abundant and we are safe from the predations of the Dulath Empire.”

“I think I will,” Frederick responded.  “But is there enough room?  I have a troop of fifty people.  All of them are refugees from the war.”

“Of course!” Mr. Johnson responded.  “We haven’t even settled the third pillar here.  Come over once the ice sets in again.”

Frederick let out a sigh over the radio.  “Very well.  I hope this new settlement is everything you have claimed it to be.”

“It is, I swear.  The only thing we lack is fruit for wine.”

“Then we’ll bring grape seeds!” Frederick laughed.

“Excellent.  I look forward to your arrival all the more,” Mr. Johnson concluded.

As time wore on, the warm season ended, and winter began to set in once again.  The settlers continued to fish by drilling holes into the ice.  The vegetation was still alive and well but took on a grey color.  However, it lost none of its flavor and still grew back quickly.  The fish were just as sweet and delicious as summer as well, although they were a bit more tough to eat.  Life here was good.

About halfway through the winter, Mr. Johnson saw a troop of people come over the horizon.  He felt a pang of fear go through his heart as he thought back to the soldiers.  However, after a quick peek through his spyglass set his mind at ease.  It was his cousin Frederick and the refugees!  Mr. Johnson rang the bells to signal the other settlers and shouted in glee.

“They’re here!” he yelled.  “My cousin has arrived!”

The settlers all gathered at the edges of their abodes and watched the progress of the troop of new arrivals.  But their hearts fell as the ice shuddered.  Once. Twice. And on the third time, the ice erupted beneath the feet of the new arrivals.  It was the same as before, with a torrent of white ice, snow, and something writhing in the center.  Mr. Johnson now knew it to be the leviathans roaming the water beneath the ice.

A small group of three or four people weren’t enough to stir the behemoths, but a large group of fifty people was.  Mr. Johnson discovered that day that the monsters beneath weren’t their guardians.  They were just hungry.