The next morning, I set off in the NASA science exploration vehicle Lisa had given me, heading toward the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado State. The reported crash site was in the northeastern part of Langs Peak within the park, as reported by three mountaineers who witnessed the unidentified object falling.
Unwilling to follow Lisa's suggestion of staying only at the outskirts' observation base, I decided to venture deep into the Rocky Mountain National Park. I felt the need to at least take a glance at the crash site, even if it was to pay respects to the departed colleagues.
Langs Peak's eastern face had the most challenging climbing routes in the whole mountain, and coincidentally, the spaceship fell towards the cliff with an elevation of over 2500 feet. Meaning, unless I wanted to take a detour, I had to climb and then rappel.
Feeling unprepared for such an adventurous undertaking, I decided to just observe from the peak to see what, if anything, was unusual about the crash site.
The journey to the summit was far from pleasant. It wasn't so much the physical effort or the difficulty of the climb but the tension and inexplicable dread that overwhelmed me. Despite the breathtaking scenery bathed in golden morning light, I was too nervous to appreciate it.
Although I've never found myself to be a coward, standing on the edge of Langs Peak and looking down, I felt as though I was gazing into a bottomless abyss, endless darkness.
The verdant canopy of trees blocked almost all the sunlight hitting the cliffs below. I could make out layers upon layers of twisted, looming shadows nestled under the cover of trees.
Moving in a constant rhythm, they produced a moist mucus which formed thin silver threads that overlapped and then wove another dense, nauseating web. It resembled the intertwined fingers of several goddesses in medieval murals – as all those joints protruding from one palm portrayed a disgusting blend of an unhealthy cluster and voluptuous smoothness.
I ran away.
Gripped by fear, I stumbled and rolled amid the bushes and tree roots, all the way down the mountain. The base camp staff said I looked like I'd been attacked by a beast.
It was only when I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom that I noticed small cuts on my face, caused by tree branches and thorny shrubs, all bleeding. Imagining the sticky sensation of blood oozing from the cuts was unbearable.
I started to vomit uncontrollably, the smell of the vomit made it worse, so I turned on the tap to wash the residue down the sink, and noticed trembling
As one tiny piece of debris reached out as if asking for help, before being swallowed by the black void of the sinkhole. That's what I was doing, surrendering myself, or part of myself, to the unknown darkness.
"Here, a towel, are you okay?" Rocket Raccoon hopped onto the sink and handed a towel to the shaky Quill. Quill shook his head and said, "I'm fine, probably just a bit allergic to caffeine. You know, after all these years away from Earth, I might not be used to the habit of having coffee first thing in the morning."
"You ran so fast down the mountain that I thought I would lose you. If you have a fear of heights, just say so. Why rush down the mountain without saying anything?" Rocket Raccoon complained.
"I'm sorry. I mean, I should have taken you with me when I ran down. Who knew your legs were so short? But it didn't hurt you because even by human standards, I have short legs and don't run fast."
Quill tried to lighten the mood with his unique sense of humor, but Rocket Raccoon wasn't having any of it. He stood on the sink, arms folded, and stared at Quill, "You forget that you are allergic to caffeine is one thing, but surely you couldn't forget something as important as being afraid of heights, could you?"
"I'm not afraid of heights." Quill pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and raised his voice as if trying to reassure himself, "I feel like, I feel like I saw something."
"Oh, you mean those tentacles in the shadows you were shouting about? and those messy fingers, but didn't I already tell you, those were just roots!"
Rocket Raccoon jumped off the sink saying, "Don't start talking crazy to your colleagues. Remember the way they were looking at us before? It doesn't matter if we don't fit in, but you can't get whisked away to a mental institution on your second day here!"
Quill sighed, wiped his face with the towel Rocket Raccoon had handed him earlier, relaxed his expression, shook his head, made a series of odd sounds, and looked at his reflection in the mirror, whispering, "Okay, Peter, maybe you are a bit afraid of heights. Just because you weren't before doesn't mean you aren't now. People change, right?"
He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, threw the towel on the sink and walked out. As he stepped out the door, "Okay, while the sun is still out, we can bypass Langs Peak and go straight to the crash site. It'll just take a bit more time."
"You're going back today?" Rocket Raccoon asked surprisingly. He paused and looked at the wounds on Quill's face, "You should rest and treat those injuries before they get infected."