A few days later Adam was on his way. With him he took some supplies, nothing too much, but just enough for him and a companion to get by. The companion was Jacie, still the only one he would speak to.
The day before he left he gathered the entire hamlet in the square again. He once again made a decree, that they do not follow him. From a terrified worker, he collected a rudimentary map, one that was promised to bring him to their “leader”. He also took a few weapons, a shotgun, an old revolver, and a combat knife he had personally sharpened. He was now dressed in near rags, and might besides his clean face and startling looks have fit into the hamlet’s denizens. It seemed that the harshness of the area hadn’t affected him, as he seemed as clean as ever, which unnerved everyone present.
There was a hurricane of swirling rumors surrounding him, where he was from, what he was if he slept, and other such questions that would never get answered. For all they knew he was from the moon, and he was a god in human form, and who slept simply to pass time. If he was he wouldn’t have told them. And this storm of rumors and gossip impacted negatively on the only person he kept close to him: Jacie. Once more-or-less loved in the community, now that Adam had “claimed” her in such a way, even her parents and friends were ready to let her, or Adam go. At night, she would wonder if Adam intended for her to be ostracized this way, so that she might relent to going with him easier, or if it was simply one of many collateral damages that were a byproduct of his grand and mysterious plan.
As Adam stood next to Jacie in the square, and she talked for him, one villager recalled his brother. His brother, who was now missing. His brother, who had the bright idea of trying to kill Adam. His brother, who’s necklace had been found, stained red with blood. He had loved his brother dearly, as much as anyone can love someone else, but he didn’t want to, and couldn’t, avenge him. Even though his heart ached to stab that perfect stranger who slaughtered his brother, the rest of his body stayed in the place. He would never get the vengeance he desired, and in a month or two, would kill himself over the guilt.
At night Jacie noticed Adam would peer to the sky. He would look at the moon, almost longingly, at all it’s green and blue hues. Jacie once thought she saw him crying, but later she was sure she had imagined it, for what kind of god cries? She didn’t question him on this and didn’t much want the answer.
The day Adam left it was raining. The rain was light, but it quickly soaked through the old and worn land. It was muddy and Jacie considered arguing against travel, but Adam seemed dead set on it. It was almost as if he had a schedule to meet, a timeline to meet. However, this imaginary calendar he kept to seemed to depress him in a way she couldn’t fathom. And her lack of understanding about him drove her further into the depths of sadness, for she found it dejecting to be in close proximity to a being so far out of her own understanding. If he cared to be having close relations to an assuredly inferior being, he didn’t show it. All he showed was his desire to leave.
And on the day they did, it was raining. Not a heavy, dark rain, but a light and bright rain. One that seems to tease at the promise of sunshine, as if the warming rays are just an inch away. But they weren’t and the sunshine wouldn’t come for a while. For three days it rained, and for three days they traveled. To Jacie, it seemed that Adam had never encountered rain, for he didn’t try to shield himself from it. He instead ignored it, as if it was inconsequential and unimpactful to his being. Perhaps it was. Could gods get sick? Jacie, however, was no god. She was very much human, and thus susceptible to nuisances such as tiredness, sickness, and sadness. She covered herself with her hood, and once that soaked through, whatever she could get her hands on, or fix together. After a few hours of this Adam took notice.
“Do you need an umbrella?” He spoke in a clear and beautiful voice, though Jacie took no notice. She was more concerned with the fact that he could speak. He had told her, and she had told everyone, that he couldn’t speak, only whisper.
“You can speak? You told me that your vocal cords were damaged, or some shit like that!” She was angry because while she expected Adam to do a lot of things, kill her, kill the village, and all other manners of atrocities, she had not expected him to lie to her. Realizing this, she became puzzled. For, if she expected him to kill her, why was it such a mental leap for her to expect him to lie to her. Surely wasn’t lying much, much, much, much, better and ethically good than murder?
Adam broke her out of her spell of confusion with a simple statement, “Of course I can speak, I am perfect.” This last part, “I am perfect” may have seemed to be a boast, a narcissistic quip from anyone else, seemed to be a desperate cry of help from Adam. A cry for help that was completely justified.
At night she would see him still looking to the stars, the moon in particular. He would listen, as if it was talking to him. She would fall asleep, wake up, and he would still be peering at the moon. She figured he did it all night. It was two days into their journey when he spoke again.
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