Gardens of Destruction

Their journey felt interminable against the backdrop of the apocalyptic landscape that unfurled around them. The roads, cluttered with the remnants of shattered vehicles and fallen debris, often forced Mark to detour for miles just to find a clear path. The only constant in this chaos was the looming colossus in the distance, to which they were inexorably drawn.

Valentina was not the most engaging of companions. She preferred the silence over idle chatter, which might have been for the best. Occasionally, she would deign to answer the captain’s questions; other times, she would ignore them as if they were never spoken. The incessant click-clack of the car’s glove compartment, which the child fiddled with relentlessly, soon grated on Mark’s nerves.

“Val, could you tell me about your staff?” Mark ventured, hoping to divert her from her monotonous game.

“What do you wish to know?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“I’ve handled many weapons in my time. But this... this is something else. How does it change its shape and length at your command?” Mark’s curiosity was boundless.

Continuing her manipulation of the glove compartment, Valentina responded, “I don’t know how it happens. It just does. I don’t think of it as a weapon. I simply hold it, and whatever I wish to happen, happens. Whether I want to pierce something, slice it, or smash it to pieces, the staff adapts its form to suit my intent.”

“So, there’s a sort of mental link between you and it?”

“Yes, we’re connected.”

“Like with those animals and people?” Mark speculated.

“It’s not the same. With them, it’s different; this isn’t alive.” Valentina lifted the staff slightly to emphasize her point.

“I see. For you, the distinctions are clear. From my perspective, you’re connected to everything and everyone,” Mark joked lightly.

Valentina offered no reply, instead resuming her fiddling with the glove compartment, the clicking sound marking the rhythm of their travel. Suddenly, she stopped, and in the ensuing silence, she softly asked, “Mark... am I still human?”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his silence didn’t bother her; she never pressed for answers. After a moment of reflection, Mark inquired, “Val, where are we headed?”

“You know where, to that,” she gestured towards the asteroid.

“Why are we going there?” he continued, pressing for clarity.

“To stop... the readjusting!” Valentina replied with a hint of agitation.

“Why must we stop it?” Mark persisted, probing further despite knowing the answers.

“For Mom, for others... for everyone. What the Gardeners are planning is terrible! Many will die!”

“See, you’ve answered your own question about being human. Val, it doesn’t matter if you look different or not; that doesn’t make you any more or less human. It’s your actions, your choices that define your humanity. The choice to be human is yours alone. Do you understand?”

“I’ve already chosen!” Valentina declared with conviction.

They were nearing their destination. As they traveled, Valentina tilted her head, her expression turning serious—a sign that Mark had come to recognize as her communicating with others.

“We’ve arrived!” she announced with certainty.

“How can you tell? Is this the meeting place?” Mark looked around, suspicious of their surroundings.

“They are here!” she affirmed.

“I hope so,” Mark muttered, not keen on facing the strange entities from the giant object alone, yet he saw no one.

He pulled the car over, and Valentina burst from the front seat like a shot, sprinting towards a nearby hill. Mark, grabbing his weapons, tried to keep pace. Valentina scaled the slope with ease, unlike Mark, who was panting heavily by the time he reached the top. As they crested the hill, Mark’s breath caught in his throat at the sight that unfolded before them.

What lay before them forced Mark to sit, his legs suddenly unable to support him.

The opened asteroid—or the Garden, as Val called it—resembled a bizarre, pocked surface, like a sponge full of holes and channels. It was dotted with indescribable growths, vaguely reminiscent of plants, some of titanic proportions. Unique life forms, straight out of a horror comic, blossomed on these growths, at least from what Mark could discern from a distance.

“They’re waiting for us,” Valentina directed his gaze towards another daunting sight.

As they gazed down into the valley, a sea of transformed beings filled the expanse, stretching to the edge of the nearby woods. A multitude of transformed humans and animals stood before them, an assembly so vast it defied comprehension. To Valentina, they seemed less like a horde and more like a congregation of wayward children, each one a testament to her call. Their numbers were legion, a veritable army, as she had promised.

“They’ve gathered, just as I said they would,” Valentina declared with a pride that shone in her eyes, her voice carrying the weight of her accomplishment.

Mark was struck speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the assembly. “I’m at a loss for words,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper against the magnitude of what lay before them.

Valentina reached for Mark’s hand, her touch gentle, her gaze imbued with a softness that contrasted the surreal scene around them. “You know, every child deserves a father... but not every father deserves a child,” she mused, her words carrying a wisdom far beyond her years.

“And where do I stand in that regard?” Mark asked, taken aback by her insight.

“You are the father any child would be proud to call their own,” she replied, her affirmation simple yet profound.

Tears threatened to spill from Mark’s eyes, his throat tight with emotion. In that moment, he understood the depth of his commitment to her; he was ready to lay down his life for Valentina, just as the beings before them were prepared to do.

With a cry in the strange, metallic-furred language, Valentina’s voice echoed across the valley. The transformed beings sensed her presence, and at the sight of her casually raised staff, they bowed down in reverence, prostrating themselves on the ground as a sign of their fealty and submission.

“They are ready... for you,” she said, her gaze intense, piercing through Mark’s soul.

“For me? Val, what do you expect me to do?” Mark asked, puzzled by her implication.

“They are yours. You command an army now. You are no longer just a captain. I told you back at the base – you will be my protector, my knight, my General!”