Gale felt someone grabbing his hand as the artificial gravity generator was heaving astronomical fragments. His bloodshot eyes were pleased with his stunning work of art. But deep down, he loathed his ego because saving the world was not enough. Indeed, he had done an immaculate resurrection and might set everything back to normal, that there would be a tomorrow for all. However, this would never be the tonic that would heal the scars to reconcile with his family. The veils of vague thoughts muffled his senses.
What have I done? Was it enough? I was never there with you, Ynsia, my wife. I remember the day we had a row. I never thought it would be the last time admiring your beauty. I should have embraced and kissed you. I should bask in the warmth of your body and the things only you could have shown me. I wasn't there at your side when you fell. I didn't brave the nightmares to scare them away. I wasn't fearless enough. I cut out your trust in me when I turned my back. May my creation light up your world. And this is my heart choked in my throat, he thought.
At midnight, Ynsia was dazed by the unknown light from above. The woman was in shock when she became utterly sentient about her surroundings. She never imagined that heaven would be a junkyard. It was more of a graveyard of the damned, she further described. A beam of light illuminated the gory curves and edges of the boy's visage in front of her. Her eyes cascade with genuine tears. Her memory now was vivid and crisp for her to see. She enfolded her tender arms around him. She cried.
What have I done? What happened to you, Daniel, my son? Is this what I'm doing? Forgive me. I endure miscarriages, but you champion martyrdom. Your lips are white, and you come and pour some red on mine. I must be the one writhing in pain and fever. You, a sacrificial lamb, spent everything you have. A child's life is meant to be happy, abundant, and meaningful. But you have chosen this plague. I must have cast aside my problems and issues and hurried back stronger to look after you. I should have taken you on an adventure every day, planted seeds of virtues, and watered them with devotion. Nonetheless, without my help, you withstood loneliness and sculpted yourself as the most courageous and generous child, the brightest neutron star I have ever wished for. You should be the one lying in my arms, sleeping soundly in them tonight. From now on, I'll be the mother that will give the affection you longed for as bright as the light of my unconditional love. May my forgotten kiss make the bruises well. And this is my heart caged in my fragility, she thought.
Moonlight dispersed over the hills, mountains, lakes, oceans, barrios, and cities beneath. With his blurry eyesight, Daniel couldn't take his tired eyes off the restored celestial orb. He felt the sincere expression of regret from his mother. She was hysterically sobbing and embracing him so tightly. He could hear her heart beating in a crescendo rhythm. He wanted to comfort her. But he couldn't move his arms, even his little finger. Delirium was crippling his senses.
What have I done? Did I do great? Dad, I know you are there with her. I heard some time ago that you'd revive her. Forgive me for eavesdropping. I couldn't help it because I had to listen to every word you uttered. I told you a promise, and you believed I'd deliver. I did save Mother because I wanted to make both of you proud of me and fill our hearts with love. I believe that one day you'd fix her. You carried the sins of humanity on your shoulders and gave them another chance. You are the unseen genius, the unseen savior. And even though I couldn't see you, I could feel your presence. Everything felt surreal at the moment, for I have seen her divine splendor at last. Thank you for your gift, Father. Luna, I wish I could say these words directly to you, but they exist only in my mind. I'm very sorry. May your soul have pity on mine. And this is my heart buried in my grave, he thought.
Gale, Ynsia, and Daniel made a sound—a breath jumping in their windpipes. It was discreet but enough to be heard by the tireless and timeless cosmos. "Into your desire, I—surrender—" the trinity whispered in succession.
———————
Ynsia waited for night to fall, humming a poignant lullaby. The golden tufts of the rising sun were prodding on the weathered Sierra in the east. It was a new dawn for her, her son, and humanity. She noticed the discoloration of her son's left arm and nape, highlighted by the soft daybreak glow. The thought of sunburn and skin cancer made her recoil in discomfort.
The first light seemed friendly, but what if it was a foe? A current of fright awakened her instinct. I am not letting you hurt one more soul. Whip me with your burning glow instead, she thought. She shoved her back to protect Daniel from the sunshine. It lit her long, flowing brown hair. She snapped open her eyes and observed that it didn't char her bare feet. The ozone layer had been renewing itself overnight.
She inserted the cannula into Daniel's nostrils, for he needed it more than her. There was a hint of relief on his face when he inhaled the pure oxygen, but still, this would not help to lower his body temperature. Well, she knew that her son was a boy scout. And so she searched for any medicine inside the backpack. She thought the bag was stuffed with emergency supplies, but the small oxygen tank made it bulky.
Her gaze fell upon Daniel as he moistened his dry, chapped lips, so she dug deeper and luckily pulled out a water bottle. Her fingers twisted the cap, and a globule of water slipped from its orifice. Clumsily she returned the cap. Earth's gravitational pull was still anomalous, but she felt slightly heavier. Ynsia hurriedly sucked a tiny amount of water from it, then kissed Daniel's lips to quench his thirst. She refrained from swallowing any of it.
Time hurtled fast. The noon sun was unforgiving, and the wind was howling. Ynsia was losing hope but stayed strong for him. As her hands worked on kneading his sore neck and shoulder muscles, she stumbled upon yet another bag. The texture of the bag's straps was familiar. She smiled because her son was such a brilliant kid and a nosy one. She sought the string and pulled it with optimism and strength once she got a good grip on it. The bag quickly unzipped and deployed a rainbow-colored parachute with an albatross symbol printed on it. It hid them from the midday sun and offered them a lovely shade. The wrinkles on her forehead relaxed, feeling heroic and feeling that she was a good mother.
It was noon, so it was time for lunch. Three sardines in hot red tomato sauce were inside a plastic bag. The cans had easy-open lids. She smiled because luck did not abandon them. She removed the lid off of a can and masticated its contents. Her face turned scarlet because it was deliciously spicy. Then she kissed Daniel's lips to feed his hunger. She refrained from consuming any of it.
For three days, Ynsia did this routine. She sucked a small volume of water from the bottle and kissed his lips. And then she chewed the spicy sardines, then again kissed him on the lips. She didn't gulp any of them because her son needed them the most. The motherhood within her exuded a saccharine fragrance of selflessness. But to this day, she wanted to cry because Daniel was convulsing. She didn't want to lose him too. She didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't have any idea what would happen hereafter. But she remained unruffled despite everything. She would not permit her son's soul to go to oblivion. She was out of practice but tried to maneuver the parachute with her forgotten skills in paragliding in pursuit of a free-floating shelter. Hours tossed like complete chapter pages, and the orange twilight darkened.
Somewhere distant, just ahead, there was a noticeable flickering light. Its arrival was not deliberate, and it was drifting towards them. She landed with grace on its front porch and knocked on the door. The door opened, and the incandescent glow spilled out the large porch's floor. She was carrying the convulsing boy in her arms. The man behind the door, without question, welcomed them. The people inside the cottage cleared the dining table. Devoid of their help, she lifted the boy upon the wooden table. The audience, most of them male, extolled her strength. She told them that the boy sprawled on their table was a million times stronger than her, and he was her salvation.
The men and boys immediately cleaned his wound with distilled water and ethyl alcohol and gave him medicine and everything he needed. A boy with a washcloth wiped the blood on his face, and he recognized Daniel. He took a moment to steady himself, and as he meticulously cleaned his face, he leaned in close and whispered something softly into his ear.
Daniel tried to open his eyes and recognized the boy's eyes. It was the eyes of the boy who begged for food, kicked his nose, and mouthed sorry. They were the audacious drifters, just without the ripped white fabrics like bandages wrapped in their arms and legs. But their loose tribal shirt confirmed that they were the vagabonds who ransacked their house. Daniel croaked, not to scream his grievance against them but to say his gratitude. The vagabond kid understood his kind expression, and a tear wandered off his eyelids.
"Mom," he feebly and hoarsely articulated, "I want to go home."
Ynsia nodded, "Yes, my child."
She asked the gang leader if they knew the town called San Maler. The boy who prepared a basin and washcloth whispered something to the leader. The man with a ridiculous goatee nodded and ordered the boys to prepare the hot air balloon and load it with some sustenance and gallons of water. Then, in a nonchalant manner, he casually instructed Ynsia to have some bread and milk and to take a nap as they would embark the following morning. She nodded with enthusiasm, filled her stomach, sat astride on a shabby sofa, and hummed a song of love until everyone fell asleep.
At daybreak, the inflated hot air balloon conquered the blue skies. A gentle breeze pecked their cheeks and tossed their locks of hair behind. Daniel was at peace, sleeping, dreaming of something. In just a few hours, they located the cliff. Ynsia didn't know that their town was thousands of feet above sea level, and she could see their house standing at the edge of the precipice. Slowly, the hot air balloon hovered over the streets, and some googly-eyed survivors clinging on leafless crooked boughs were craning their necks like giraffes, looking at their graceful descent in their garden. The gravity today felt better, and they hoped it would improve in the succeeding days. The drifters leaped off the hot air balloon carrying boxes of goods and the snoozing kid. They deposited them carefully inside the spacious living room.
"Thank you very much, Captain," Ynsia said to the leader.
"I am not a captain," said the man, pronouncing each word with a foreign accent, blushing. "But thank you for putting your trust in us." He removed his baseball cap and then genuflected—a gesture of veneration and valedictory.
Ynsia stood gracefully on the parched and lifeless lawn, her face illuminated by a radiant smile, while she gazed with unwavering focus at the majestic hot air balloon leisurely ascending into the sky. With delicate and pale hands, she waved passionately, bidding them a sanguine farewell.
She looked at their house, mused over her son, and toughened up. "Son, we're home."