5

As the two boys wrestled out the doorway of his family’s house, Sid could see his best friend Wolo - Jireh being his third best friend - kneeling next to an ant hill, no doubt right where Jireh had left him. Wolo had been known to watch ants for hours on end, he was simply fascinated by them. Jireh, not so much. He launched himself from the porch and landed squarely on top of the little mound, mere inches from Wolo's hand. 

“Hey!” Wolo exclaimed, suddenly aware of his friend's return. “You almost got my hand, Jireh!” Those few words were a lot for Wolo, due to his speech impediment. His heritage was partly Nomad and Nomads weren’t descended from animals, but from insects - ants, specifically - which may have explained Wolo’s fascination with them. The ants had awoken and evolved long after the animals, due entirely to the actions of one animal, in particular - a goat as legend had it. Though no one was exactly sure, as historical record keeping was shoddy and left mainly to the winners of ancient wars.

There was no small amount of bias in the histories, and as a result the past was a muddy mess of myths and legends that no one could prove or disprove. Regardless of who or what had awakened the ants, they were here - thoroughly awake - and among the ranks of the evolved species. Those species, themselves, had not been sedentary in the long years of history. They had moved and conquered and moved again, the whole while mixing and mingling as they went. The result of this was that there had been a lot of crossbreeding. And so, no matter how much some creats might think of their family trees as being straight and pure, there weren’t any purebreds left.

Wolo was only part Nomad, with a large spattering of sheep. His mother was a ewe, his father a ram, and who, exactly, in his lineage was responsible for inviting ants to the picnic, no one in his family knew. The only tell-tale sign that there had been such an invasion of his DNA was the random appearance and placement of a few chitinous growths that protruded from the thick, curly, black hair that covered his slight frame, all but one of which being covered by his t-shirt. The one that his shirt didn’t hide was still hidden from sight. It had grown, quite unnaturally, inside his throat instead of outside. This aberration had effectively turned what could have been a shield into a spear which stung his vocal chords when He spoke. And so, Wolo only spoke when he absolutely had to, as was the case when Jireh’s foot startled him from his reverie of his little ancestors. 

Jireh, nonplussed by Wolo’s outcry, issued a simple command to the smaller male. “Let's go, space cadet! There’s danger afoot!”

“Danger afoot'' was code for “We're playing army today!”

“Of course we are.” Sid thought. No surprise, it was Jireh's favorite game; not that Sid minded it that much. There were worse things a kid could find himself doing other than tromping around the woods pew-pewing imaginary bad guys. “Like chores.” Sid thought. “Chores would be a lot worse.” He thought to think about sitting in his comfy chair, reading his newest book, but immediately thought better of thinking about it. It would only dampen his mood, something Jireh would be sure to notice and tease him for. Wolo took one last look toward the ants scurrying around the ruined hill, then got up to follow his friends as they crossed the small grass yard toward the alley.

“Can I be point?” He asked, excitedly. Jireh didn't bother to answer, which was in itself, all the answer Wolo needed. He would not be on point for this little excursion. Leadership of their little group was something Jireh kept on lock down. It was probably for the best, Wolo knew. Jireh was a natural leader. It didn't matter what they were looking for on their treks, Jireh always helped them find something. Without him around, they usually just found boredom, and so they fell into their usual formation as he led them along the main road that dissected their little neighborhood.

Jireh always walked in front, with Sid usually at his side unless their path narrowed, in which case Sid would edge in behind Jireh. Wolo would occasionally walk abreast with them, if the path was wide enough, and if he thought to catch up to them when it was. During those times he almost felt like an equal, though he knew he was not. He was closer to being Sid's equal than Jireh’s, and still quite distant from that. As far as he knew, Jireh didn't have an equal, at least not among their classmates. For this excursion Wolo just followed along and watched from a few paces behind as his two best friends made small talk. 

He, himself, wasn't much of a talker - first, because of the physical impediment that made speech, if not painful, then slightly irritating. And second, because Wolo was weird, and he knew it. The things that came out of his mouth were just bizarre to most creats, at least the ones he'd met so far. And so, often as not, Wolo chose to just keep his mouth shut. But silence, he found, was not without its benefits. Wolo discovered that an amazing thing happened when the mouth was shut. The other senses started paying more attention. This made Wolo the most observant of all of his friends. He noticed, for instance, that Sid always oriented himself toward Jireh. Even when they were moving. It was as if Jireh were the sun, and Sid was a light-hungry plant. It was always Sid who broke awkward silences, as well. Sid seemed to thrive on words, regardless of whose mouth they came out of. He could talk for hours and say nothing useful at all. Jireh, on the other hand, had a way of capturing the essence of something with just a few words. Some creats might think that this made Sid the needier of the two males, but Wolo had deduced that Jireh simply went about getting the attention he needed in a different way than Sid. Wolo broke it down like this, where Sid desired to be in the spotlight, Jireh was content to be the spotlight; Wolo, of course, was just happy to be present.

Wolo Mank was the smallest kid in their class, even counting the females; not that being a female made you naturally smaller on the planet Creat. Females here were mostly comparable in size to their male counterparts. Size, as well as most physical attributes, was more a factor of heritage than sex. Cats were fast, Simians had incredible balance, Bovines were large, and so on. They had carried these traits with them as they evolved away from their “ancestor” species – most of whom still roamed the planet un-evolved.

The evolved creats – or as they called themselves, the “awakened” species – had some common traits with their ancestors. But they were all bi-pedal - that is, with two arms, two legs, two hands and two feet. Their early development was similar to their ancestors. Most Creat kids could walk within a few days and were weaned within a few weeks. This meant that Creat females recovered quickly from childbirth and didn't have to spend so much of their time caring for babies. The downside of this was that many of them didn't develop the strong bonds that other mothers did with their children. And so, in the past, babies had been seen as more of a nuisance.

But not for all mothers. Some mothers had an abundance of maternal instincts, and the awareness of creats to the terrible plight of babies was growing at a rapid pace. Attitudes were changing in their favor. Certain events were helping this growth along. Creats had long ago given up their nomadic lifestyles, so there was no longer any need to leave the weak behind. They had access to better food, and plentiful water - thanks to plumbing systems and a global transit network. And most had decided that it was far better to have things brought to them, than to actually go and find them for themselves. Let's face it, scavenging and foraging are just not very much fun. The creats, like so many others, had become huge fans of convenience. This also made for easier, less stressful childhoods.

None of this occurred to Wolo as he watched his two best friends walking along, laughing and joking. Jireh moving along easily, always the pacesetter, listening as Sid started in on some observation he'd made. Lots of things occurred to Sid, and he loved nothing more than to share them with his friends. Sid spent a lot of his time trying to impress Jireh with stories and observations, but Jireh was seldom impressed. Wolo was content to follow. He didn't have a lot to share, anyway, and he doubted either Sid or Jireh would be impressed with anything he did decide to say.

Keeli Knowles – the girl that had been with the boys as they entered the woods - had been watching out the door of her house for the guys to come into view. It was, after all, a sunny day. She had deduced - based on her long friendship with her boys - that Jireh would collect Wolo, then interrupt Sid’s reading, and then make his way down her street on his way to the woods that bordered their subdivision. She knew this because this was their normal routine for a Sunday.

The moment she saw them round the corner from Elm Street she yelled, “I’m going out” and without waiting for either of her parents to respond, bounded out of her house and met them in the street. The screen door slammed behind her, accentuating her haste.

“Hey little buddy!” She called, approaching Wolo first.

She hugged him deeply while Sid and Jireh waited for her attention to fall on them. Sid was next, and he was practically chomping at the bit when she extended a tiny fist in his direction.

“Sup Sid!” She said, coolly. He gave the tiny fist the bump it was expecting.

“Sup Keels?” He asked, rhetorically.

Wolo noticed that Keeli's light was even more nutritious for the hungry Sid than Jireh's was, but Keeli had hardly waited for the fist-bump before she moved on to Jireh. This also caught Wolo's attention. She always saved Jireh for last, and it was obvious that she didn’t do it out of dread.

“Hey Jireh!” She said, presenting herself cadet-style in front of him. He scrutinized her from head to toe.

“At least you're in uniform this time.” He told her, not finding anything about her apparel to be dissatisfied with.

Keeli had learned not to expect too much from him in the way of emotions toward her. It just wasn't his style, and she was OK with it.

“I wore my boots!” She declared, lifting one foot to accentuate the presence of her rugged footwear.

The last time they had played army Keeli had shown up in flats.

“You can't assault an enemy position in flats, Keeli!” Jireh had scolded her.

He had reminded her of it, over and over, as she slipped and slid through the woods. At one point she had lost one of the ill-suited shoes in some deep mud, forcing Jireh to come to her rescue. He had dug it out and then promptly called an end to the whole exercise.

“Can we go back to the caves?” She asked, emphatically. It was obvious that she was determined to make amends for her previous performance.

“We never go the same way twice in a row.” He reminded her.

“Oh, right!” She said, undeterred by his admonition. She already had a plan B in mind.

“How about the Swamp?” This got his attention.

“There's that fallen tree we could climb!” She enticed, desperate to show off the traction gaining ability of her footwear.

Wolo and Sid could tell immediately that she had picked a winner; Jireh loved climbing trees.

“Excellent thinking, lieutenant!” He commended, adding her rank to the compliment. It signaled his forgiveness of her for her previous errors in judgment, and her return to her proper status in his mind.

In the hierarchy of their group Jireh was the commander, Keeli was his number two, Sid was their Sergeant at Arms, and Wolo was the Private.

Sid was sure that Jireh had promoted Keeli over him just to aggravate him. He was easily aggravated by minor slights of that sort, and Jireh loved rubbing it in.

“Fall in, Keeli, we’re wasting daylight!” He commanded, then marched them off toward the marshy area they had come to know as the Swamp. It was just a drainage area for their subdivision of houses, but it remained wet enough all year to earn its nickname.

He brought them to a halt on the grassy patch between the road and the tree line that marked the border of the “swamp” and issued his next command.

“Front leaning rest position...” He ordered, pausing after the preparatory command just the way a real Drill Sergeant would.

“…move!” Eight hands hit the soft ground at nearly the same time when Jireh issued the command of execution.

“In cadence…” He had been working hard on his Drill Sergeant persona, Wolo noted.

“…exercise!”

Four torsos dove at the grass, then rebounded back, as Jireh counted. “One, two, three, one!”

It’s a good start, Wolo thought. They were all in sync. It won't last long, he told himself. He was already getting tired. Keeli would be the next to slack off. When Jireh noticed her slowing down, he would kick it into overdrive just to see Sid try and keep up. The pup would for about twenty repetitions, but Jireh could do two-hundred push-ups without breaking a sweat; none of them stood a chance of outdoing him.

As Commander, Jireh had originally made it his personal mission to bring them all up to his level. But his level kept changing. The more exercise they did, the stronger he got. The bar kept rising, and he quickly realized they would never catch him. So, he adopted an approach that would allow them all to become better without them growing discouraged.

“Just do one more than you did, last time.” He told them, and it had become his motto. He personally strove to live up to it throughout his life, and he expected nothing less from those around him.

Needless to say, the three of them were panting in the grass when he finally got to his “one more.”

They moved on through their routine of Jumping Jacks, Squat thrusts, and anything else their commander could think of. He spared them the usual two-mile run. They would need their energy for slogging through the mud.

“Form up single file!” He commanded when they had finished, and Sid and Wolo dutifully lined up behind Keeli.

Ever one to lead from the front, Jireh fell in at the head of the column and marched them into the woods.

I looked away toward the school and could barely make out the silhouette of Beatrice Beagle in one of the large, rectangular windows. For a moment I thought I heard her trying to warn them about the lightning, but it was clearly just my imagination. She had not spoken it out loud.

“Mycah, Should they be worried about that storm?” I asked.

“No. There are other dangers in these woods.” He said, cryptically, then followed the kids beckoning me after.