This is not a Tale Between the Lines, in the strict sense, since it wasn't born in an exchange of comments. Rather, since @jinnis was leaving for a holiday and we were unable to squeeze in our next Tale before that, we decided to write an intermezzo. A short, light piece of entertainment to keep our readers happy.

We utterly failed at this. It's neither short, nor light, and we have major doubts about it keeping our readers happy.

We started out by giving the story a title: Emails From the Deep. It was to be an email conversation between two figures trapped in bunkers. This is what became of it over the course of a weekend.

Warning: If you're here for the light, funny tone of the Tales Between the Lines, skip it.

~ ~ ~

Emails from the deep — or speaking to the void

From: [email protected]
To: All

Hello? Is there anybody out there? Hmm, probably not, not after five months of sending mass emails out into the void formerly known as the World Wide Web and never getting an answer.

If you're out there anyway, don't hesitate to contact me. You know, there's no risk of me coming over and rob you. At least not as long as the radiation levels outside don't drop significantly. And even then, I never made robbery a hobby so far, so I guess I shouldn't start with it now after I miraculously survived not only all the storms the unacknowledged, officially neglected climate change brought, but also the man-made destruction following after—the bombs, the poisonous rain, the desperate days in the bunker.

But if you read this, you're probably in the same situation and don't want to dwell on the past. I don't, either. There's nothing you or I can do to change anything. Let me tell you something about myself instead. I'm a writer. Wouldn't have guessed, would you? Well, actually I'm just an amateur, a wannabe writer. I was other things too, before the fallout. But that's the past and buried with everyone I knew, everything I believed in. Today, I'm solely a survivor and a writer.

The survivor part is evident. I still live and breathe, feel the urge to eat and pee and sleep. I also feel the urge to see the sun and go for a long walk in the forest, swim in the sea, or climb a mountain. It's not happening anytime soon though. I've everything I need to sustain me, and for a very long time. But leaving the shelter is not an option.

I'm also completely alone here. Normally this place should house fifty or even a hundred people. So I guess I'm lucky to have it all to myself, including the stores. But honestly, it's awfully lonesome. I don't know why everybody else never showed up. But they didn't, and that's that. Nothing to be done about it.

Well, I better stop, or I'll write myself into another state of depression. If you happen to read this, you'll probably think me a complete moron.

If you don't, try to imagine a summer day, sitting in a lavender field. A gentle wind sways the blossoms slowly while bees and butterflies sit on dark violet flowers, oblivious to the wind and your presence. Beautiful, isn't it? Well, this is certainly a nice picture to end this message on.

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Hey, OMG!!

I can't believe it!

Someone's out there!

I thought I was the last one alive. Sitting in this hole, waiting for the end. This used to be a big bunker here, but there was an explosion. Killed all the others, and most of the place has collapsed. It's now just me in this one room. No food for days, I'm dizzy from hunger. A trickle of water running down a wall has kept me alive. Don't know if it's safe for drinking, but I'm drinking it anyway—it's all I have.

Power's intermittent, so I have to be short. But let me say I've loved your lavender field. I close my eyes, and I can see it. It's endless, reaching all the way to the horizon, covering the gentle, rolling hills. I can even smell it. A butterfly settles on my hand. It moves its wings, slowly, once or twice. Then it takes off again, a flurry of lemon color against a sapphire-blue sky.

You're a writer, that's lovely. I know I'm dying here, but I don't want to think of that. Do you have a story for me? A short one, just a few words, something to hold on to.

Reading hurts my eyes, and I have the mother of all headaches plaguing me.

Air's growing stale. Have to go and turn the crank of the scrubber now. But I'll be back.

Best
Jane

PS: I'm in Geneva, Switzerland. Where are you?

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Dear Jane

I can't believe I found someone to talk to! Although you're so far away, it makes my day brighter to be connected to someone after a very long time. Well, it wouldn't change a thing if we were 5 miles from each other instead of 5000, would it? But it's really good to talk to you instead of sending messages into the void.

I'm in the Caribbean, in the French Antilles. An island paradise, only I don't get to enjoy it anymore, sitting underground in the old volcano observatory.

Now you certainly wonder why I wrote about lavender fields. We don't have any, where I live. But banana and sugarcane plantations aren't nearly as beautiful. I fell in love with the lavender fields when visiting relatives in the Provence last year. This isn't too far from your place, I reckon.

It worries me to know you live in that bunker without adequate provisions. I so wish to be able to share mine. As I don't have a way to do it, I'll share a story, instead.

This is the story of my granddad. It may seem hard to believe, but I'm absolutely sure it's true. Please tell me what you think of it!

My grandpa was a fisherman. He went out to sea on a tiny boat almost every day. Normally, he left the small harbour early in the morning when it was still dark and returned with his catch around mid morning. But some days he would stay out there, only returning after nightfall or even the next day, looking happy and whistling a small tune.

My mother was always worried sick and scolded him when he stayed on the sea for so long. But he just smiled and shrugged it off.

One day he declared I was old enough, and it was time I learned his trade. Mother was against it. I was only eight or nine at the time. But grandpa was adamant. We sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night. I didn't worry too much about mother's fear. I was with grandpa, after all.

The trip on the boat was amazing. We set sail, and a gentle breeze carried us away from the dark coast into the starlit expanses of the sea. Grandpa showed me the constellations, Orion the hunter, the dolphin, and the fisherman. He knew all their stories, and time passed quickly. Sunrise found us way out from the coast, in the realm of wind and waves.

Grandpa explained to me how to recognise the spots where shoals of fish traveled by tiny ripples on the surface. He knew so much! Soon, our fish tank was full, and we prepared to return to shore. We braced the purple sail, set course for the island, and I sat down on the bench, tired and content to let the morning sun warm my limbs for the remainder of the trip. I remember smiling at granddad, already half asleep, when his face suddenly lit up.

He pointed out over the bow and at the same time shushed me.

There, in the turquoise waves kissed by the early morning sun, a pod of dolphins danced, skipping the waves, jumping in groups and diving again. It was a truly magic moment when they joined our boat and swam with us, their fins so close I could touch their sandy skin.

And then, amongst the friendly dolphins, I saw the fish-tailed woman. She was beautiful, with long hair the colour of seaweed and dark sparkling eyes. Her pale body was covered in tiny scales, reflecting in the colours of the rainbow. She moved amongst the dolphins as if she were one of them, smiling at me and reaching out a slender arm and pale hand. Before I could get hold of it, a strong arm pulled me back. Granddad wore a rueful smile.

"No, Selene, my love, young Camille is not for you. I'm sorry, we have to go back to the island today, her mother is certainly worried. We will return another day."

Selene gave me one last promising smile, and I could read the hint of beautiful secrets in her eternal eyes. Then she lifted her magnificent tail, and, just like that, she disappeared in the waves, together with the dolphins.

Although granddad promised to tell me more about Selene in due time, he never got around to do it. Mother was furious he took me out to sea against her will, and this remained my only and last trip to the fishing grounds.

A few months later, grandpa didn't return from his trip. There was no storm, and his boat was never found. But sometimes, in my dreams, I can see him out there, meeting his true love Selene and joining her for a better life.

This story became longer than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Keep fighting Jane, don't give up! I can't wait to hear of you.

Yours
Camille

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Camille

Sorry for the belated reply. Had a power outage here. Spent ten hours in the pitch dark, just me, my headache, and a mounting fever. Thought this was the end. But then, from one moment to the next, the light came back on again. Email's still working. Most of the internet isn't. I guess we're lucky we're still able to communicate.

Anyway, about your story. You're a writer indeed! It carried me away. I saw Orion twinkling in the sky. I felt the ship gliding over the gentle waves of the turquoise Caribbean waters. And the sparkle in Selena's eyes touched my heart. I wished she'd be making home visits to those in dire needs of salvation. I guess not, at least not when they are as landlocked as I am.

Your tale reminded me of an incident, ages ago, an episode of my life that I had long forgotten. Let me share it.

I was younger then, much younger. Strong, adventurous and foolish. Well, I'm probably still foolish, but I'm definitely not strong now. Not sure about adventurous (I have tried to dig my way to the room's exit here while it was dark—and if I get there, we'll see about adventurous). Anyway, I digress, here's the tale.

We were four students, right after the final exams. Waiting for the results, we decided to spend a couple of days in the mountains close to here, in the southwest. We hiked up to a cabin to spend the night. The evening was beautiful, the setting sun painted the peaks around us in hues of gold. Everything was quiet, and the sky's color slowly changed from indigo and yellow, to crimson, to purple, and finally to black. And the stars came out. They are so much closer up there. You think you can reach out and touch them.

Anyway, here's why your story reminded me of mine: We saw Orion that night, too. Strange, don't you think? We live so far apart, yet we're both familiar with this imposing figure of the sky.

(Did you know that one of the 'stars' in its belt is, in fact, a whole galaxy? Just think of that.)

Next morning, though, the world had changed. When we woke up, low, dark clouds were storming the heavens. Any reasonable hiker would have turned back then, down into the valley. But as I said, we were young and foolish, so we decided to continue as planned, to ascend to the mountain pass and to proceed to the next valley, where another cabin was waiting for us.

While we were on our way up, it started to drizzle, and the drizzle soon turned into a torrent. Note that these were the times before GPS and mobile phones. We had a compass, a map, and a trail marked with red and white signs. But we were studied folks, after all, we knew our ways and were smart enough to handle what fate might throw at us. Or so we thought...

When we reached the pass, we were drenched, cold, and miserable. But knowing that it would be downhill from here lifted our spirits. We first descended through a slope of gravel, which is fun, and an efficient way to lose height. Then the trail took us along the side of a valley. The only things separating us from our goal were the traversal of a scree slope and a short descent through a forest.

Just before entering the field of scree, Paul, who was walking at the head, stopped.

I bumped into his backpack. "Hey, what makes you stop like that?" I was wet and irritated then—I'm usually not that grumpy.

He just shushed me and pointed along the path.

There, just a couple of steps ahead of us, was a huge bird sitting on a rock.

"An eagle," Paul whispered. "That's incredible, you never see them from this close."

At that moment, the animal screeched at us, half opening its wings. I swear it was looking me straight in the eye, angry and forbidding.

I took a step back, the others too.

Gerard, another guy from our group, unpacked his camera and started taking photographs. It was one of those old reflex cameras, and it made a lot of noise just taking the pictures. I thought the clicking would drive the bird away, but it just sat there, or perched, or whatever, and glowered at us, with its beady, cold eyes.

We stood there, the bird and we, facing down each other. First it was exciting, but the rain was still pouring down on us, and our enthusiasm was waning quickly. So Paul took a step towards it, trying to shoo it away. But it didn't budge. It just screeched at him again. And I tell you, a bird with a wingspan of more than two meters tends to make you respectful.

I was seriously considering to throw a stone at it when a rumble made me look upwards. In the upper section of the scree slope, the rocks began to move, roll, and slide, gaining momentum and power. Seconds later, the slope before us was all motion and chaos.

And the eagle sat between us and the mayhem that might have killed us all, its eyes still as hard and unflinching as ever.

When everything was over, the bird screeched once more. Then it spread its mighty wings, and, with a flap, it lifted itself from its perch and glided away.

Only then did I become aware of my shaking knees.

We turned back, clambered our way up to the pass again, and returned to the first cottage, the one where we had spent the night.

I still don't know if that eagle was there to warn us, to stop us from crossing the scree. But I do want to think it was. My guardian eagle.

Anyway, I would like to know if there are still any guardian eagles or mermaids out there, or if we have killed them all for good—together with our other hopes, dreams, and miracles.

I wonder what you think.

I'll have another go at digging out that exit now. Writing this story, I have come to realize that I don't want to die down here. I'd rather be outside when my time comes, where there are mermaids, eagles, and lavender fields. Or where they used to be.

I hope I'll find the strength to get there. I feel my time is running out. I just had to... crap (sorry), the first time for days, but I just left a bloody mess on the floor.

I hope I'll hear back from you soon.

Best
Jane

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Dear Jane

I was really worried and thought I lost you again, so close to getting to know you.
Really glad to know you have power now, and I hope your sickness passes. Do you think the cave-in left the radiation shielding intact?

Anyway, I understand your wish to go outside, I feel the same, and my own little subterranean world is still intact. What really gets at me is the loneliness. I fear I'm going to die in this place, out of boredom if not of anything worse.

I long to see the sky one more time and to smell the rainforest on the volcano's slopes, listen to the concert of the forest while the sun sets beyond the bay. Later, Orion would rise over the eastern mountain range and bring me news from your part of the world.

Do you think the sky hunter could carry a message when this flimsy connection between us finally fails? I have no explanation why we are able to send emails while all other means of communicating are gone. Maybe the big transatlantic cable is still intact, connecting our two lost souls, bringing us a spark of light and hope.

While reading your story, I realised you're a writer at heart, too. Or you should have been one. I've never seen an eagle, and I think it's really cool to have a guardian eagle. I imagine him sitting on a mighty fir tree, where he waits for you to climb out of the heap of rubble your shelter has become. Maybe he will carry you away to a better place.

I have no guardian spirit, I believe. Or, maybe I have, come to think of it. I told you about my granddad. After he left us, my mother wouldn't allow me onto the sea. But I didn't listen. Sure, I couldn't sail out there to find the dolphins and Selene. Instead, I spent my time at the shore. Mother thought I was playing with the other village children. But I taught myself to swim and dive. I'd follow the cliffs to the right of the bay, equipped with an old diving mask a tourist lady gave me.

The beauty of the underwater world caught my imagination. I'd spend hours out in the water, observing tiny fish flitting in and out of coral caves, playing with an octopus and laughing at the feather duster worms. If you bring your hand close to their plumes, they retract into their tube, just to reappear as soon as the water calms again.

Of all the colourful inhabitants of the reef, turtles are my favourites. I envy their ability to dive for hours without surfacing for air. I love to watch the hawksbill turtles munching on sponges. They never let themselves be disturbed by my proximity. What danger can a small person like me be to their solid, quiet presence?

One day I was way out from the coast, following a swarm of strange fish. When I realised the powerful current carried me around the cape and out to the sea, I was already further out than I ever had been before. A knot of fear formed in my stomach. I swam towards the shore, already cold and aware my strength would hardly be enough to reach the rocks. Panic set in, and I struggled for breath.

Then a big turtle surfaced right before me. Its wise, ancient eyes found mine, and I reached out a hand. It didn't flee my touch. I can't say the turtle brought me back, that day. Sure, it pulled me along for a short moment before it dived again, leaving me to stare after the beautiful animal in a state of wonder. It saved me, anyway. The encounter dissolved my panic, and I swam back to shore without further incident.
Well, I'll let you be the judge of it, Jane. Do I have a guardian turtle, maybe?

I'll have to go now, an alarm calls me to replace the air filter. I hope all is well at your place and wish you luck with the digging.

Yours,
Camille

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Dear Camille

Let's start with the bad news. No, my sickness won't pass. I know the symptoms. It's radiation poisoning as a consequence of severe exposure. I'm now losing blood at both ends, nausea, and fatigue are my constant companions, and I've lost my first tufts of hair. The water that has kept me alive the last few days was probably contaminated, so it was also killing me. The place's containment has been breached.

That said, here's the good news: I've dug my way to the door that leads to the escape shaft. The only thing I have to do now is hauling myself up these rungs, open the top door, and have a stroll outside.

And I have to do that now, or I'll be too weak. And I don't want to die down here.

So, it's time for goodbyes. Talking to you has given me the strength and will not to cower down to die like a worm but to return to the surface and to end my life with the dignity it deserves.

And yes, you do have a guardian turtle, I am sure of that. It has led you to that bunker of yours, a place that sounds like paradise—I'd love to be there with you now.

But there's only so much a single guardian turtle and a lone guardian eagle can do.

So, my best wishes go out to you, through that faithful transatlantic connection. It has been a privilege to 'talk' to you. May your turtle guide you, my friend.

Yours, for the rest of my days

Jane

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Dear Jane

I'm so sorry to hear about your health. And I regret to have fallen asleep over my screen. It wasn't for long, I swear, but almost certainly too long: I missed your message by a quarter of an hour, and probably you won't be there to read my answer any longer.

Nevertheless, I wish you all the best from the bottom of my heart. Your presence brightened the last few days and gave me back some hope. And your braveness in a hopeless situation is like starlight on the ocean: pure and beautiful and eternal.
I know your eagle waits for you. He will carry you away, far over the mountains you love and to the stars. Maybe even to the galaxy on Orion's Belt.

Here, for a moment, I wondered if I shouldn't join you. It would be easy, operate the red lever, turn the top and bottom wheels to open the seals. I could walk out of my prison, the place keeping me safe and away from everything I love at the same time. I could die under the light of the stars.

But then I realised it's not my time yet. I still have a duty. I'll send out another email, and more after that. There might be others like you and me. Others alone and lost, in need of a story or just the knowledge there's someone else.

My part is to watch out for them. I know it will be a long and lonely vigil. And one day, when it is over and my time has come, I hope I'll find the same courage as you did, to climb the rungs out into freedom and meet my fate.

I hope that on that day, my guardian turtle will guide me to the place you are waiting for me.

Keeping you forever in my thoughts,
your Camille

~ ~ ~

Dear Camille

I've decided to send you another email, even though this one is in my thoughts only. One last story for you...

The rungs of the escape shaft are cold to the touch as I climb them. The emergency lights keep me company as I pull my body up and up, one exhausting step after the other.

Reaching the top, I drag myself onto the platform. I feel dizzy, and my cough paints crimson dots onto the floor. I should have done this earlier, I hardly find the strength to get up again.

The wheel on the exit door turns easily, and it releases the lock with a soft clink. I pull, and light flows through the cracks along the frame.

...

We've done it. We've killed it...

The trees are spindly, multi-fingered claws reaching towards a steel-gray sky. The grass between them is brown, the pelt of a huge, dead animal. The stench of decay hangs like a shroud over everything.

The chill of death seeps into my clothes.

I walk through the buildings like something undead, my steps slow, my breath rasping.

...

Suddenly, the landscape is bathed in a golden light. The sun is setting in a gap of clear sky towards the west. There's a small hill ahead, the dead grass and trees covering it glowing in warm shades of ochre. And, towards its top, the color changes to hues of green.

I'll need to have a closer look at that. I hope I still have the strength.

...

Grass. Green, living grass! And not just the dull gray-green of things dying, but the vivid emerald and chartreuse of young, vigorous growth claiming life and a future.

And there are flowers. Light purple. I'm not a botanist, but I've decided that they must be lavender.

We didn't kill the world, after all.

I sit against a rough tree trunk as the sun sinks below the horizon.

...

When I wake up, it's dark. My pain has gone. A warm numbness has taken hold of me. The bark at my back feels like a soft pillow.

The sky has cleared up, and the stars are shining. And there he is, Orion. Unchanged, his simple, elegant outline looks down at me.

Give my love to Camille, will you, when you see her next time?

There's hope yet, I know now. There are still turtles swimming the seas, watching over my Caribbean friend.

And what's that? A black outline against the pinprick backdrop of the milky way? A creature of huge wings descending slowly towards me?

My guardian eagle. He's coming to get me.

~ ~ ~

From: [email protected]
To: @all

Hey, whoever you are, I'm Camille, calling out to all humans left on Earth. I'm sitting alone in a gloomy bunker, buried away from the destruction that reins on our once beautiful planet.

For a very brief time, I had a friend. Her name was Jane. She loved the stars and the mountains, and she bravely faced her destiny.

It's more than two weeks since I last heard of her and I know her courageous soul followed her guardian eagle to the stars.

Now, I'm alone again, facing more sinister days. If you read this, please answer. We might exchange a story or two. Or share a dream. To start with, here is one of mine.

I'm sitting on Lizard Cape, way out on the rusty rocks, one step away from the drop to the green and blue waters deep below. Gentle waves roll in, rippling the glassy surface and breaking on the coral reef beneath my perch. A few stray clouds on the western horizon show already the glowing brims of sunset. On a rock shelf a few feet below me, a big iguana basks in the last rays of the sun, unperturbed by my presence.
My eyes follow the flight of a pair of majestic frigate birds, hunting over the open sea, oblivious to human sorrow and malignant stupidity...

Artwork by @EvelynHail