story

Heroes Need a Hero Journey (working title)

by Hans Bluedorn

The thing about time is, you don't understand it. Nobody does. But it flowed out of God and formed all the stars and planets.

Somewhere in the expanse of space and time, a dark tunnel stretches out—dissolving into darkness.

In the tunnel sits young woman. She is a small person with big glasses, but a little nose. Jet-black hair swings about her cheeks.

She wears a slim space suit with a backpack, and a glass bubble helmet.

Strapped to her chest is a short, thick rifle.

She starts to crawl down the tunnel.

She crawls for a long time.

Eventually, the tunnel ends and opens up to the vacuum of space.

A blue-green planet can be seen far away.

She takes a few breaths, in and out, making the bubble helmet fog up for a moment.

Then, she jumps into the vacuum of space.

She falls toward the blue-green planet. Stars on all sides, with the planet in front. The only sound is her breathing.

Minutes pass. The planet looms ahead.

Mountain ranges, glaciers, and rivers are visible.

She is headed for a patchwork of green and tan next to a lone mountain.

The rush if air as she enters the atmosphere. The backpack hums and pulls on the suit as she reaches terminal velocity in the atmosphere.

The ground is approaching fast.

She can see the outline of houses, fences, and trees.

A parachute on the backpack deploys. With a jerk and a thud, the parachute opens, and her legs swing down.

She reaches up and removes the helmet, letting it drop.

She hangs in the quiet air.

No time to look around; the ground is almost here. She pulls on the parachute cords and prepares for impact.

She tucks and rolls into a field.

Quickly to her knees, she grabs the parachute and pulls it into a big ball of fabric.

She unzips the space suit—crawling out of it and leaving it on the ground.

Now, she wears a band of cloth wrapped around her body many times. It changes colors from red to tan to black to leafy green, back to red. She looks like a camouflaged mummy.

She reaches for her backpack on the ground and removes a small bag with a strap.

Written on the side of the bag are the words: "wound trauma kit."

She sling this across her shoulders and picks up the rifle.

Finally, she stands up and looks around for the first time.

The sun sits on the horizon. The bottom of its circle kisses the edge of the world. Is it rising or setting?

All around is alien farmland. Square patches of grain fields alternate with patches of dark jungle.

Above each jungle canopy, a few giant trees flower like broccoli.

Groups of grey and red birds, like turkeys, roam about. They wander on the edge of the fields, pecking at the grain.

She strides through the field, then climbs over a stone wall into a grassy yard.

Bulging out of the middle of the yard is a giant dome covered in grass.

It appears to be an ancient burial mound, or tumulus, of some forgotten hero.

But it's not.

Wedged into the side of the grassy dome is a sliding door.

The door is closed.

Written on the door are the words: "Time Door: Open door at your own risk. Time has been moving at an independent rate INSIDE. It's unknown how much time has passed INSIDE. Opening will reconnect timelines."

The area around the door is overgrown with grass and vines. It doesn't look like the door has been opened for a very long time.

She rips away some of the grass and vines blocking the door.

Then, she stands in front of the door.

The sun still rests on the horizon. Waiting.

Finally, she pushes her glasses back up her nose, centers her shoulders, steps to the door handle, and pulls.

As the door slides away, she steps back and points her rifle through the opening.

The door opens, and light bursts out.

Just inside the door, a man lies in a pool of blood. He must have died an instant before. His rifle is cast to the side. He wears a camo mummy suit, just like hers.

With three strides, she leaps inside the room.

She drops her rifle and collapses next to the dead man.

Then, she cries great sobs. Gasping for breath.

Her wound trauma kit slides off her shoulder. It's useless now.

She sits next to the body for a long time, legs curled to the side, as time rips her away from someone she loved.

The lights inside the tumulus dim away.

The evening light outside the tumulus fades into night.

Now, moonlight shines through the door.

Eventually, the present world collects back around her. She wipes her cheeks dry.

With two fingers, she closes the man's eyes. His face is content and peaceful—as if he knows of some wonderful conclusion to a story.

She stands up and faces the door she had come through—the door to the outside world.

Moonlight from outside the tumulus highlights her face.

She is lost and has no place to go now. At this moment, she feels her story is over.

But she is still alive.

She steps forward and slides the door closed.

Instantly, the night sounds of the jungle are gone. Perfect quiet presses into her ears.

The lights inside the tumulus brighten back up.

The inside of the tumulus is a circular room with a stone floor.

The walls and ceiling are formed from thousands of multicolored electrical wires intertwining chaotically into a dense thicket. The light is coming from somewhere behind all these wires.

She stands there with the closed door in front of her.

The words that are written on the inside of the door are similar to the words written on the outside: "Time Door: Open door at your own risk. Time has been moving at an independent rate OUTSIDE. It's unknown how much time has passed OUTSIDE. Opening will reconnect timelines."

She grasps the dead man's arms and pulls him out of the way of the door, then picks up both rifles.

She slings one rifle over her back and holds the other.

She takes a deep breath and stands straight, centering her shoulders to the closed door.

She grasps the door handle and slides the door open.

She steps back and swings one rifle up, pointing it at the opening door.

The door slides open.

An orange glow flickers from outside.

Black smoke billows in. Then, a giant head and powerful body staggers in and stands up.

He is nine feet tall. Smoke swirls around him.

The giant looks at her with a blackened face.

She does not hesitate. She fires.

The rifle shudders, and the giant hurtles backward. The giant hits the doorframe, then slides to the ground. Very dead.

The rifle whines, recharging.

But.

Stooping down to get through the door, another figure enters.

He stands erect.

He is a giant, bigger than the last. Twelve feet tall. He wears leather armor with the image of a wild boar on the breastplate.

His left hand is a fist of fire.

In his right hand, a long, thin knife.

He stands in front of the door, dwarfing it.

Her rifle is still charging. She drops it and starts to swing the other rifle around by the sling.

Too late.

The giant's hand pushes her off balance, and she hits the ground.

Then the giant's foot steps on the rifle, pinning her left arm under it.

She cries out in pain.

The giant speaks: "You're a fast little one."

But she's not out of the fight.

She quickly reaches into a fold of her mummy cloth, pulls out a push dagger, and buries it into the nearest bit of giant.

The weight on the rifle shifts. She pulls her arm out and dives for the first rifle, now charged.

Her finger curls around the trigger as the rifle barrel swivels to the target.

The giant's knife swings through the air. The rifle shudders in response.

She doesn’t wait to see the effect. She jumps up, leaps over the dead giant, and runs out the door.

While she had left the Time Door closed for only a few seconds, a lot of time must have passed outside.

Outside, all is quiet, but everything has changed. It's night, perhaps the same night as before, or some night far in the future.

But a battle has just happened here.

The grass is burnt. Wisps of smoke trail upward where the fire ended.

Parachute canopies lie on the ground—billowing in puffs of breeze.

Bodies also lie about, some giant, some regular-sized, motionless.

Smoke rises.

Above, in the night sky, two starships drift away over the horizon. They consume each other with bright sparks of radiation as they disappear from sight.

Streaks of flame cross the sky.

On the edge of the grassy yard, on the other side of a stone wall, the jungle begins.

She makes a dash for the wall.

She throws her rifle over and tumbles over headfirst, then jumps back up and leaps into the forest.

She stops to listen. Only the sounds of the night.

Blood is pouring out of the cloth on her right arm.

She steps into the moonlight and peels back the shoulder wrapping to look.

The knife cut where the shoulder meets the neck. She is losing a lot of blood.

The wound trauma kit is still inside the tumulus.

She peers over the wall at the tumulus.

Light from the open door illuminates the yard.

The light flickers. Someone has moved inside. The larger giant is still alive.

She climbs over the wall and heads back to the door.

She peers inside.

Thw wound trauma kit lies inside, just past the dead giant.

She points her rifle ahead of her and steps over the body.

The body of her friend still lies where he was dragged.

The larger giant sits on the floor at the far side of the room, his back against the wire thicket. His breath is heavy and labored.

He looks up: "I underestimated you."

She doesn't say a word.

She sits down on the floor next to the wound trauma kit.

She opens the kit, pulls out a package, and rips it open. An odd green bandage falls out—copper lines run all through the fabric, and attached to it is a small battery.

She sucks her breath in and peels back the camo mummy suit. She places the bandage on the cut. The bandage comes alive and grabs onto the wound—freezing there.

With a gasp, she breathes out and pants.

She scoots up against the wire thicket—keeping her eyes on the wounded giant.

The blood pouring out under the bandage ends.

She breathes deep breaths. In and out.

The green bandage is healing her body quickly, but it is taking a lot of energy.

A profound weariness is upon her now.

She blinks and forces her eyes back open.

Her thoughts stray out of control and out of time.

She falls asleep.

Sweet, healing, sleep.

Here, she dreams a dream from before time began.

She stands at the base of a green hill. A bright blue sky is all around. The light is coming from everywhere.

She starts to run up the hill—saying out loud: "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

The hill is steep. Bare feet slip on the grass. She scrambles on all fours.

She reaches the top. With hands on knees, she gasps for breath.

A white cloud comes out of the clear sky, larger and larger. It's the shape of a hand, and an arm reaching into infinity.

The giant hand scoops her up. It pulls her off balance, and she falls into the palm.

Butterflies flutter in her stomach as she accelerates up.

Faster and faster. The blue sky turns to the dark of night.

Now, all around are infinite stars burning with unblinking eyes.

Two of the stars grow larger and larger. They are like flames of fire.

They are two eyes. Now, it's a whole face. It's the face of a father.

The face glows with joy. He has the biggest and brightest smile as if he knows of some wonderful conclusion to a story.

She rolls over and lies with her head in her hands. She looks into his eyes as he speaks to her.

He is telling her about things to come. He is telling her of all the amazing things she is going to do in her life. Things that haven't happened yet.

Now, he is giving her a name.

The hand is descending toward a small, blue-green planet. So gently, he picks her up with two fingers to place her where she belongs.

Back in the world of space and time.

The rising sun shines through the open door of the tumulus.

The sound of the daytime jungle starts to whine outside.

Lying in the tumulus, her back cushioned by a thicket of wires, is a young woman with big glasses but a little nose. Her face and hair are streaked with blood and mud. She is wrapped in a blood-soaked camo-mummy suit.

Her eyes are closed. She is asleep. But one hand firmly grips a rifle. A finger is ready on the trigger.

Right now, there is nobody left alive who even knows her name. Only her. Her last friend lies dead a few feet away.

Propped against the opposite side of the room is the giant.

He is a noble creature with sharp and intelligent features. And you can see wisdom in his sharp blue eyes. But it's not our wisdom; it's his own wisdom.

The giant stirs. He is still very much alive.

I'm sorry. I write very slowly, but come back later for more of the story.