Green Live Valley - full story

Green Life Valley

by Collin Witte

Vanille walked on the old silt road, her steps sinking into the earth. Each breath grated like sandpaper on her lungs as she made her way back to the orphanage. Her head filled to overflowing with thoughts of Miss Kelly. Where was she? Why didn’t she tell me she would be gone?

That morning in school, Miss Kelly’s chair sat empty. Halfway through the class a spindly, bitter woman with rust-colored hair marched through the door. Without a word of explanation, she grabbed a yardstick and slammed it on the board. “Open your books and close your mouths. Miss Kelly is gone, and I run a tight ship.”

Vanille was so absorbed in thought, she almost passed Mom without running her hands across the rugged bark. Mom was what she called the gigantic live oak tree that sprawled across the entire front yard of an abandoned church by the edge of town. As a child, whenever she felt alone or confused, she would visit the tree and nestle among the sturdy branches. Her parents had died in the uprising on the hill when she was three. No one would tell her what this meant. All she knew was she had a bunk in the orphanage and the nuns always reminded her to be careful of who she spoke with. “Watch out for the men with the red bands,” Sister Sarah would always whisper. “They call themselves the reapers. If you ever spot one, you must stay away from them and come straight to me.”

Vanille ran up to the oak and embraced the trunk. It was as wide as her bedroom. She leaned her head against it, trying to soak in the tree’s silence and strength. Whenever she was unsure of what to do, Mom gave her the answer.

Vanille began to climb. From thirty feet up, the town looked different, almost beautiful. She could no longer see the chipped paint of the fence, the decayed brick of an abandoned house or the dirty wrappers that blew around the streets. From here, the town of Green Life Valley looked like the idyllic photo Vanille found in one of Sister Sarah’s old albums. It had once been a tourist town famous for its award-winning vineyards. Now it was a forgotten place where everything was the same … up until yesterday and the strange new teacher.

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The yardstick cracked against the chalkboard like a whip. The entire class jumped in their seats. “Stop gawking and start writing. I expect to see a full page by the end of class.”

A boy with shaggy brown hair and mis-matched socks spoke up, “But there’s only fifteen minutes left!”

“Then you’d better get started.” The strange woman spun on her heels and began to stalk up and down the aisles, hovering briefly over each desk. As she passed near, Vanille could smell the sourness of her breath. Then she began to feel a strange heat on the back of her neck. Vanille turned to see two green piercing eyes staring right at her.

The words fell from Vanille’s lips before she could stop them. “Who are you, and where is Miss Kelly?”

The eyes did not blink. The woman growled, “Miss Kelly is gone. As for who I am, you need not worry. I will be preparing you for the test.”

“What test?” asked Vanille.

“You’ll find out soon enough. The test will separate the wheat from the chaff.”

A girl with short blond hair in the back row stood up. “The what? This is weird. We want Miss Kelly back.”

The woman shrugged. “She will not be back, but maybe you will have a chance to join her. Leave your papers on the desk - class dismissed.”

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Vanille left her half-finished assignment on the desk and walked out. There was an eerie silence in the usually bustling hall and something strange about the way students were walking that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then she realized - everyone was walking single file down the hall. Not knowing what else to do, she slipped in behind someone and joined the line, moving slowly toward the door.

She passed under a colorful mosaic of a grapevine and was reminded of Miss Kelly. She remembered the first day they had met. Vanille had been counting the purple tiles when a cheerful voice called out behind her. “Did you know that mosaic is the oldest piece of art in all of Green Life Valley? It is about 175 years old, and was built by Ryland Wilson, our city’s first mayor.”

“Wilson?” said Vanielle. “That’s my father’s last name, and mine too of course.”

“Really?” said Miss Kelly. “You must be related!”

“They said that I am,” said Vanille. My mother died when I was three, but I heard I am supposed to be related to him somehow.”

Miss Kelly placed her hand on Vanille’s shoulder. “You poor dear. If you ever need someone to talk to, come and see me.”

Vanille was startled by the sound of boots behind her. She turned around quickly and saw a strange man exit with four students. He was large with blond hair cut military style and a black jacket. Something about the way he looked made her feel uneasy. She didn’t know the students, but noticed they were all smiling. Vanille shivered. She didn’t think she would be smiling if she had to follow the creepy man.

A hand tapped Vanille’s shoulder, and she recognized the girl with short blond hair from class. She was wearing what looked like a boy’s jacket and black combat boots. “Look at that weirdo.”

Vanille nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The girl punched Vanille lightly on the arm. “I’m Cheyenne. What’s your name?”

“Vanille. Nice to meet you.”

“Who do you think that guy is?” asked Cheyenne.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the looks of him.”

Together, they watched the man and the four students stroll down the hallway and disappear into the main office. Vanille and Cheyenne exchanged uneasy glances.

Cheyenne punched Vanille’s arm once more and started walking away. “Well, I gotta go, I have to get home. See you around.”

Vanille waved. “OK, see you.”

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Without even thinking about where she was walking, Vanille found herself in front of the live Oak tree. She leaned against the mighty trunk and slid down with her knees crossed. Her hands trembled as she zipped her jacket and opened her backpack. She pulled out a worn leather journal and hesitated before unfastening the clasp. It seemed to weigh fifty pounds. The book had been a gift from Miss Kelly, when she had discovered a poem Vanille had written on the back of a napkin. Vanille had said it was no big deal, just something she did sometimes. Miss Kelly had protested, saying that Vanille absolutely needed to keep writing. The next day, the journal appeared in her desk with a little note “no more napkins”.

Vanille picked up her pen and tried to organize her thoughts. She wanted to jot down some notes about what she had seen in the hallway, but didn’t know where to start. Her head felt like a jungle of tangled vines - she couldn’t make out where one thought ended and the other began. The strange man. The blank-faced but smiling students. Miss Kelly. The solemn new teacher with no name. The ball of fear in her stomach that she couldn’t explain. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree, listening to the sound of an insistent woodpecker, hammering away. She almost felt like the bird had the answer for her.

Knock knock knock. The students had followed the man into the main office. Usually students only went there to be disciplined, but they had been smiling. There was something similar about all of them, but she couldn’t quite say what it was

Knock knock knock. The nameless teacher had said something about a test, and separating the wheat from the chaff.

Knock knock knock. Miss Kelly was gone, and it seemed she would not be back. Had she passed the test? Or failed it? Vanille almost dropped her book when she realized what was going on. She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and set off for the orphanage. She had to find Sister Sarah.

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Vanille sprinted down the road. She could barely feel the ground beneath her. Her breath was short and panicked. Her head felt completely disconnected from the rest of her body, and her eyesight began to blur. Out of nowhere, a hand reached out and gripped her arm from behind. Vanille spun around, eyes wide.

Laugher. “What’s gotten into you? You look spooked!” It was Cheyenne.

Vanile looked at her with disbelief. She could barely speak, she was so winded. “I’ve got to get back,” she muttered.

Cheyenne laughed heartily. “You’re in quite the hurry! We were heading to check out the old abandoned house, see if there are any ghosts. From the look of you, you’ve already seen one.”

“You did?” a boy stepped out from behind Cheyenne. He wore multi-colored socks and sandals and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “That’s not fair!”

“You know Nathan, right?” said Cheyenne. “From class?”

Vanille nodded slowly. “I think so.” She looked nervously up the road. “But I can’t stay. I have to get back home.”

“What’s the rush?” said Cheyenne. “The world isn’t ending. Come hang out.”

Vanille shook her head. “Thanks, but … maybe next time.” She began to turn away. A piercing sound made them all jump. They looked toward the noise and saw a young girl surrounded by three men. Vanille recognized one of the men as the one she had seen marching the students to the office at school. He was blond with a black jacket. The other two men were dressed just like him. One was tall and skinny and the other was short and squat. The short one was tugging on a colorful piece of cloth, which the girl was attempting to hold tight around her shoulders. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Come on,” said the tall one. “Take off that ugly piece of cloth! If you want to live here, you have to live by our rules!”

Cheyenne narrowed her eyes and muttered, “That’s the creep from school. What are they doing to Karida?”

“You know her?” said Nathan.

“Yeah, she’s my little sister’s best friend. Her family lives down the street from me.” Cheyenne stiffened as if readying for a fight.

“I saw one of those guys earlier today,” said Vanille. “He was taking all these students to the office. I think they’re trying to …”

At that moment, the short man wrestled away the scarf and pushed the sobbing girl into the grass. He grabbed her backpack and dumped its contents on the ground. He kicked through the pile, scattering papers everywhere. Then he placed his heavy boot on her chest. She looked up, terrified.

“You’re all the same,” sneered the tall man. “Like filthy animals. No intellect. Born to be led. Well now your time is up. Let’s go!”

The girl whimpered. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

The short man dug his foot into her side, trying to force her to sit up, She curled into a ball, hiding her face. “No!” she cried. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The blond man, who had been watching silently, spoke up. His voice was like gravel. “Grab her and let’s go! The train leaves in an hour.”

The skinny one reached down and took hold of one of Karida’s wrists. She squirmed and pulled away. He jerked her arm violently. “Get up, Fetcher. We don’t have time for these games.” As she pulled against him, Vanielle caught a glimpse of red on his arm. Something about that color screamed a warning to her.

Karida screamed. The other two men closed in, each grabbing an arm, dragging her along the ground. Suddenly, the tall man stumbled and crashed into the roots of the tree, bleeding from the temple. A large stone whizzed by the short one’s head. Vanille looked over at Cheyenne in surprise. Cheyenne had a wild look in her eye and her hand remained poised in midair, her palms covered in dust.

Before the men could react, Cheyenne rushed forward and grabbed Karida’s hand while Nathan and Vanille threw large handfuls of dirt in the other two men’s faces. As they wiped their eyes, Vanille and the others sped toward the abandoned house. Vanille hoped they could make it there before the men caught up.

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Cheyenne led Karida by the hand around the side of an old, dilapidated house. She motioned to Vanille, pushing aside a mass of cobwebs in an ancient-looking window. They crawled through into a dim, musty room. Nathan pushed an old cabinet in front of the window. Vanille leaned against the wall and sighed. Karida, trembling, sank down to the floor and put her head in her hands. Cheyenne leaned down next to her.

“Are you OK?” Cheyenne asked.

The girl sniffed, wiped her eyes, and nodded.

“What happened?” asked Nathan. “What were they doing and what did they want?”

Karida shook her head. “I don’t know. When I was walking, I noticed a man behind me following. Then there were two. When the third one joined them, I got scared and started to run. They chased me, and grabbed my scarf. I don’t know why. They just kept calling me names and trying to take the scarf.”

“What names?” said Cheyenne.

“Animal,” said Karida. “And Fetcher. I don’t know what that means, or why they were chasing me.”

The four sat in silence for a moment. Then Vanille took a deep breath. “I think I might know.”

They all looked at her.

Vanille’s voice was shaky, but she spoke as clearly as she could. “You know how Miss Kelly disappeared?”

Cheyenne and Nathan nodded.

“Well,” said Vanille, “that crazy teacher said something to me. She said she was there to test us, to separate the wheat from the chaff. At first, I had no idea what that meant. But then I saw those students being led into the office by that strange man with the black jacket. It seemed so odd … and I have a feeling they also disappeared like Miss Kelly. I think maybe they planned the same thing for Karida.”

Karida closed her eyes and shook her head. Cheyenne gripped her hand.

“But why?” Nathan asked.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” said Vanielle. “When I was sitting under the tree, I think I figured it out - the one thing all of the disappeared have in common.”

“What’s that?” said Cheyenne?

“They’re all different,” said Vanille. “But I think that’s the clue. Remember the necklace Miss Kelly would wear, with the six-pointed star?”

Cheyenne nodded, “Yeah. I asked her about it once. She said it was a religious thing.”

“Right,” said Vanielle. “And then you have those students. I thought they looked familiar, but couldn’t place them. Now I remember. They were all in the international honors club. They hosted that cookie sale last month.”

Karida gasped. “So that’s why they were trying to take my scarf! They had a problem with my religion.”

Vanille nodded. “I think they have a problem with lots of things. I’m not sure who they are trying to separate out, but it’s clear they have specific targets. We’ve got to get back and tell everyone we know!”

“But how will we know if it’s safe to tell?” said Nathan. “How will we know we aren’t just telling one of them?”

“Look for a red band on their arm,” said Vanille. “If they have one, stay away.”

Cheyenne looked up. “So now what?” she asked. “We split up?”

A loud crash came from the next room. Karida and Cheyenne jolted to their feet. “The door,” said Cheyenne. “Quick!”

The door was straining against its hinges. The scuffle of heay boots and low grunting filtered through the splintered wood. One good kick, and they would be through.

Nathan pointed to a large table, and together they pushed it against the door. A gruff voice shouted, “It’s no use! Come out - we have twelve men on their way. You’re trapped. Make it easy on yourselves and open the door.”

“We don’t even need all of you,” said a second voice, hoarse and high pitched. “Just send out the Fetcher with the scarf and the rest of you can go home.”

Karida began to sob. Cheyenne grabbed her by the shoulder. “Don’t cry. That is not happening. We need to move - fast!”

Vanille ran to the window. She peeked out through the sliver of glass that still remained above the cabinet. Her heart paused for a moment. Sure enough, there was a troop of black-clad men marching up the street. There were more than twelve. She counted eighteen, and more in the distance. No way they would be able to outrun all of them.

“Let’s try upstairs!” said Nathan. “Maybe we can crawl out the side window into the tree.”

They rushed up a set of creaky steps, while beneath them, the table rattled with each strike against the door. “They’re almost in,” said Cheyenne. “I hope this works.”

Nathan led them over to a turret window. It was narrow and small, barely large enough for a child to fit through. He shook his head. “The tree is too far,” he said. “But worse, look.” He pointed down, where three of the men rested against the trunk of the tree. One of them was looking straight up at the window. He turned to the others and pointed. The men began jogging toward the door.

The clattering from downstairs grew louder. That door wasn’t going to hold another minute.

Cheyenne grabbed Karida’s wrist and shot back down the stairs. “The basement! Hurry!”

“No way!” Nathan protested. “We’ll be trapped!”

“We’re already trapped!” snapped Cheyenne. At least we can hide.”

They squeezed down a narrow passageway, pushing aside cobwebs. The only light source came from the upper level and a dim shaft of sunlight that made its way in from a grate near the ceiling. When they were all down, Vanille closed the door behind. They were in near darkness.

Vanille tried to steady her shaking hands by grabbing onto the rough, gritty handrail. Her heart was racing like a train engine, but her mind was oddly empty. She saw faces appear before her, like old photographs. Her mom and dad, Sister Sarah, Miss Kelly. What she wouldn’t give to be with them right now.

There was a familiar scent in the air. Musty but sweet. Vanille couldn’t put her finger on it, but it smelled like home. She looked around. All about the room were stacks of bottles. She grabbed one and ran her hands over the smooth glass. In the dim light, she could barely make out the label. Wilson Wine. She gasped. “These are from my grandfather’s vinyard!” she cried.

Cheyenne looked at her. “Your grandfather? This is the Wilson estate. It’s been abandoned for decades.”

“I think so,” said Vanille. “My last name is Wilson.”
A large crashing sound came from above, and heavy feet trampled across the ceiling. Karida muffled a scream.

Without knowing why, Vanille began making her way toward the back end of the room.
“If we go that way,” said Nathan, “we won’t be able to move or see.”
Vanille kept moving. When the light ran out, she reached out to the wall and used it to guide her. She tiptoed forward. There was a new scent, and she was moving toward it. She felt like she could almost detect a light breeze. The air was cool on her arms.
“Come on,” she said. The others began to follow suit. Upstairs, the footsteps became more frantic, and the voices grew louder. She couldn’t make out the words, but they were definitely shouting, maybe arguing.

“They’re getting closer,” said Cheyenne. “Any moment, they’re going to open that door and it will all be over.”
Vanille felt a strange sense of calm. “Grab my hand,” she said. “Everyone find a hand to hold, we are going all the way in.”
The darkness enveloped them completely. Vanille kept following that strange scent. One small footstep in front of the other, they made their way down the wall.

“This is a huge room,” said Nathan.

Karida spoke up. “I think it’s a tunnel.”

“A tunnel?” said Cheyenne. “I’ve been coming here for years and never found anything like that.”
“Well, I feel a breeze,” said Karida. “I think we’re beyond the house now.”
The sounds of feet and voices had grown more faint. Now there was just the scratching of their shoes on the gravelly floor.

Vanille strained her eyes, but still could not see ahead. “My family used to own a vineyard,” she said. “Maybe this is how they delivered the wine. It smells like water in here. I think the river is close.”
“That’s it!” cried Cheyenne. “They’d roll the barrels all the way down to the boats. I’ve noticed a big door over by where my brother used to fish. I’m guessing we’re going to come out there.”
Vanille thought back to her own long walks by the river. There was indeed an old red door that seemed to lead nowhere. From there, they would be out of view of the house. “When we exit,” she said, I’m running straight to the orphanage to get Sister Sarah. You all tell your parents, all you neighbors, everyone you know, to pack their bags and meet us at St. George at 8 pm sharp, dressed for the service. We may need to all leave tonight.”

Vanille’s hand brushed against hard, rough wood. “I think this is the door,” she said. “Everybody push!”

Together they strained, pushing the door open an inch. Bright sunlight streamed in, blinding them momentarily. They continued to push, gaining inches slowly, until they could squeeze out sideways into the grass. The river glinted in the sun. It was a beautiful day, spring birds chirping. The four turned to look at one another. Karida adjusted her scarf. They looked up toward the abandoned house - they could see no one outside.

“8 o’clock sharp,” said Vanille. She turned to run. They scattered, like leaves in the wind.