The Station, Part 53

Whatever they are, they’re showing a lot of interest in me. I’m doing my best to run. Walking is one thing. Running quite another. The snow sucks me in more and more as my footfalls become harder. I’m not going fast enough. They’re getting closer. All around me now. I’m not going to outrun them. By the stars they’re big. Much bigger than I. And faster. The snow is roiling all around me. No sense in running now. What do they want? This was a mistake. I should’ve—something just brushed against me. All of a sudden I have an image of being in the water, surrounded by sharks. I can’t be thinking that way. I can’t let panic take over. There, just a little ways away I saw something. A form breaking above the surface of the snow. Too brief to get a good look but it was definitely—another one. More distinct. Damn they’re fast! What the hell do they want? Did I stumble into their territory? Am I just a convenient snack? No, if they were angry or hungry, I’d be dead already. There’s been plenty of time to do away with me. Then I hope that I’m merely the object of curiosity. I have no way to escape. The only thing I can do is wait…

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in place, but there’s little else I can tell you about my encounter. Whatever they were, and whatever interest they had in me, I think that curiosity has been satisfied. They have parted ways with me and no matter how much I tried, I never did get a definitive look at any of them. Smooth shapes the same color as all else in this place. They circled, touched me, and went away again. But the story doesn’t end there. For moving away in the distance, I can see the trail they leave behind. Precisely in the direction in which I am heading. Yet another coincidence? No, I don’t think so in the least. And just how do I know that? I don’t. But know this—I now travel in the wake they left in the snow. A wake that, had I not been given the gift of new sight, would have never seen. In this wake the snows have been, shall we say altered in consistency to the point where I can walk with even less effort than before. The snow is but a light dust about my legs. It appears as if as long as I stay on this exact course, my mysterious benefactors that travel under the snow will provide the means to arrive at my destination in due time. I can find no reason for this treatment. In a way, I find it unsettling. This isn’t the first time I have received undeserved charity from beings unknown. The things in the fog I suspect of it. Even more so was the pair of young, manlike apes, my guides to the fruit.