by Glynn James
Eventually, the tunnel sloped upward, and the unending void gave way to a pinpoint of gray light. When Rav first noticed it, he considered it an optical illusion, a trick of the subterranean passages. But as he moved closer, it grew in size, and after a few more hours of walking, he began to hear birds chirping.
The final stretch of tunnel led sharply upward, and Rav had to scramble over dozens of boulders and broken concrete. He was amazed that he had not been stabbed by rusted steel or lodged his foot into a crevice that would’ve held him by the ankle for all eternity.
He had stumbled through the mouth of the tunnel and into a small field to the east of the opening. Rav collapsed into the tall grasses like a sailor who had been at sea for too long. At that moment, he was not concerned about the Valk or any other flesh eaters that may have been nearby. Instead, Rav closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh, clean scent of the untamed forests. His stomach quickly reminded him that he would have to find sustenance soon, but not at that moment. Rav rolled over onto his back with his eyes still closed, and that was when he first heard it.
All of his years spent guarding the pass and arranging the carts of the ancients at the summit helped him to identify the noise before he could see what was causing it. The distinct sound of metal scraping metal brought a smile to his face. Rav had no idea where he was, where the grumble’s breach was located, or if any of his compatriots were still alive. But he knew that where there was metal, there would be people.
He climbed to his feet and walked in the opposite direction to the tunnel. Rav climbed over a small hill littered with old carts strangled by new vines. At some point in the distant past, a cataclysmic event must have stacked the carts. Unless there had been an army of thousands, which Rav doubted, the huge metal beasts had to have been dropped in place by a force far stronger than the hands of men.
Beyond the jumble of carts, Rav saw a tower stretching into the sky like a lone obelisk. He saw glimpses of red brick through the heavy green vine wrapped around the tower, threatening to pull it to the ground. The tower itself sat upon another brick structure, this one two stories high but not nearly as tall as the tower. The trees had reclaimed most of the land around the structure, but Rav could see where the old growth met the new. Although he would not have the time or energy to do so, Rav knew that if he climbed down to hack away at the new growth, he would find ancient blacktop beneath.
The wind blew through the leaves, and again he heard the scraping of metal. Rav moved down from the hill toward the saplings that had begun to enclose the structure. His foot slid, and when he looked down, Rav saw more steel tracks heading toward the structure. He had not seen evidence of the rails while guarding the summit, but many travelers coming through had told stories of the steel serpents stretching across hundreds of miles. They told him tales of the old world folks moving carts along the rails and through the wilderness. And until he had seen the underground cavern full of the metallic corpses, Rav had not believed any of them.
For the first time since leaving the tunnel, Rav looked up at the sky and let the sun warm his face. It took longer than normal for his eyes to adjust to the daylight, and he began to appreciate the golden glow of the late afternoon sky.
Rav smiled as he walked, and he even considered whistling before his better sense came back to him. It didn’t appear as though any clans had been anywhere near the structure for decades, if not generations. He was unlikely to find a food source waiting for him, but he would be able to sit and rest for the first time since the battle of the bridge—without the fear of rats.
Scraggly trees and vines masked the front doors of the structure. Rav pushed through and stood before two large wooden doors, each with a copper handle covered in a bright green patina. He reached out to turn a handle but noticed that it was already open. Rav stopped and was about to take a step backward when the other door flew open. It struck him on the left shoulder and knocked him to the ground.
Two Valk stood above Rav, their sharpened teeth grinning in their pale faces.
“Motherfuckers,” he spat.
Rav rolled over and raised the steel bar he’d found in the underground cavern. He had spent the better part of a day in the tunnel sharpening it on the hard stone. It was not as heavy as a battle axe, and it would not protect him like a bow and arrow, but he was prepared to defend himself.
The Valk took a step closer, and Rav gagged at the stench. They looked down at him with a strange fascination, as if they had never seen a human before. He did not hesitate.
Rav lunged forward and slashed his blade of sharpened steel across the throat of the Valk on the left. The creature grasped at his neck with both hands, instinctively trying to stop the flow of blood before collapsing to the ground. The other Valk took a step back, his curious grin turning into a thickened snarl.
“What are you guarding?”
The Valk looked at his dead brother and then back to Rav. He did not answer the question.
Rav made a fist with his left hand, spun, and struck the creature on the right side of his face. His aggressive approach seemed to catch the Valk by surprise. For however long they had been here, Rav guessed that he was likely the only human they had come across.
The beast stumbled backward and fell against the open door. Rav raised his blade of sharpened steel, ran at the creature, and stabbed it in the chest. He yanked his weapon free and let the Valk fall face-first into the dirt.
“I gotta find me a flask.”
Rav took two steps into the structure and immediately realized there would be nothing of value left for him, and he began to wonder why the two Valk had been left there. The interior of the structure was nothing but a jumble of steel, broken concrete, and the hardy vines that could grow in almost complete darkness. Rav saw no evidence of any clans having ever been in the structure or using it for any purpose.
He walked back out and progressed around the side of the building, following it in a straight line, until he came to the rear, directly opposite the front doors. He kicked some leaves and branches away and saw that the steel rails continued straight through the building and onward into the wilderness.
Rav looked again at the sun and determined that the rails pointed him south. Although there was no guarantee it would be an easy passage, the steel serpents would eventually intersect with the Ninety-Five. If there were anything left of Jonah and the clans, the road would be his best chance at finding them—assuming he didn’t starve to death, get chewed on by rats, or get eaten by the Valk in the meantime.
He sighed, faced the line that the tracks followed, and began to walk.
Chapter 19
Briar knew he had been pushing his men harder than he should have been, but they did not complain.
Over the course of many years, the trees had crept closer to the trail that had once been the Ninety-Five. Long, drooping branches hung over the top of the old asphalt, blocking out the midday sun. And while it created a tunnel that kept the hunters cool, it made them uneasy. All conversation ceased once they left camp—nobody had asked about Loner or questioned whether he might return.
The breach caused by the grumble snaked south to north, with many branches snaking out into the wilderness for miles, and occasionally one of its tendrils intersected the trail. Briar had thought it was one single break in the earth, but it turned out to be anything but that. Who knew how far the damn thing stretched. He kept his hunting party moving north towards the old border of Virginia and the ruins of Richmond. They had made a few small game kills, such as squirrel and rabbit, which was enough to keep their stomachs from growling, but nothing significant, and it slowed their progress. One good deer kill would set them up for days, and they would be able to cover much ground. If only.
They came across the ashes of old campfires and stepped over piles of scrap metal that had rusted together, but Briar had seen no evidence of recent activity. Whoever had come north on this trail had done so a long time ago, and that did answer one question. He had wondered
if any of the clans had left Jonah’s gathering and headed in the only other direction available without walking directly toward the Valk or the Cygoa—north—but they found no trace, and the Ninety-Five seemed to be the most likely route anyone would take.
“Some are getting blisters.”
Briar looked left at the man who spoke. He hadn’t heard any of his hunters talk, let alone complain, about their feet. On their hunting grounds, they had walked many miles, spending entire days on the move.
“Are you suggesting we stop and make camp?” Briar asked.
The man shook his head but did not answer. Briar knew that he meant to say yes.
He would look for somewhere—better to keep them from moaning. Almost in answer to his thoughts, a structure appeared through the forest, several hundred yards north of their current position. Briar had come to recognize the geometric bones of the man-made ruins even though the ivy-covered them.
“We can explore that,” he said. “Maybe have a meal.”
Briar led his men to within fifty yards of the ruin. He held his hand up, and they stopped. The structure was two stories high but the middle of the second story sagged downward. Decades of rain had found its way through the roof and now pulled it towards the earth. He saw windows beneath the leaves, some of the panels cracked, others missing, but there were also several still partly intact, and that was an unusual sight.
“Looks like it’s not been touched for an age,” a hunter said from behind Briar. “Are we going in?”
Briar looked at the man and then at the other hunters. He knew his men well enough to know how to answer.
“No. What’s the point? Doubtful there is anything of value left inside, and judging from the condition of the roof, I don’t want to be inside that thing when it collapses.”
“What about nightfall?”
Again, Briar understood the fear in the question.
“I have not seen evidence of them. Have any of you?”
The men shuffled, most keeping a hand on their bow. None of them spoke.
Briar walked around the side of the structure and noticed that the back wall had completely collapsed. It stood open, segmented like a giant honeycomb. The concrete walls lay exposed like rotten teeth. Something else caught his eye.
He saw what appeared to be a large branch poking through the leaves. But as Briar got closer and used his toe to kick at it, he realized it was a steel rail. They had not seen many of these in the forests on hunts. Other clans told tales of the people before the Dustfall moving large carts across tracks. Briar had no reason not to believe the stories, but he also had no interest in them. That world was dead and gone, and chasing the truth behind the legends would not feed his family.
“If we follow the tracks, do you think they will take us to Richmond?”
Briar looked over his shoulder at the hunter who had followed him around the side of the building. He sighed and shrugged. “It looks like the rails are running north to south. I guess we can assume they run parallel to the trail and might be easier to follow, as long as the breach hasn’t ripped them from the ground. I think we should keep going. This isn’t a safe place to spend the night.”
The hunter followed Briar back to the front where the rest of the men had been waiting. They all stood, packs on their backs and bows in hand. It seemed as though they had been uneasy about stopping there as well.
“Let’s go,” said Briar.
***
The sun began to set to the left, reassuring him that the rails were, in fact, running north to south. The men seemed to relax more the farther they traveled from the old ruin, as if the ghosts of the men who once inhabited that place could not follow them.
The trees receded from the trail, and Briar spotted an appropriate spot to camp for the night. His empty stomach reminded him that he had not eaten for hours. Briar rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and rotated his head back and forth. He inhaled, and the familiar scent of death rushed into his nostrils.
He glanced back and forth across the trail, looking at the rails as they appeared to meet at the horizon. Briar sniffed the air and took two steps off the trail to the east, where a patch of thorny brush had been trampled. A single black boot caught his attention.
The hunters stopped, and all conversation ceased.
Briar approached. He saw the other boot, a vest, and a scrap of fabric blowing in the wind. Dried blood covered the long stocks of grass on both sides of the brush.
“The men,” said a hunter standing behind him. “They say this was Valk.”
Briar knew it was true the instant he smelled death on the wind.
The sound of a snapping branch came from twenty yards into the forest. The hunters notched their arrows and dropped to one knee. Briar’s eyes searched the woods, sensing movement more so than seeing it. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and his palms became sweaty.
He turned his head to the side at another cracking sound, staring in the direction of the noises. This couldn’t be the Valk. When they ambushed, the creatures appeared as if materializing out of the earth. They were rarely so clumsy.
“If you’re going to spook me like that, you had better be carrying a full flask.”
Briar recognized the voice before he could see who was speaking the words. A flutter of leaves and darkened cloth preceded the man.
“Rav?”
“About damn time. The Valk ain’t much for conversation.”
Briar heard his men sigh as he walked up and extended his hand to Rav. The big, burly man ignored the handshake and embraced Briar.
“Jonah thought you were dead.”
“So did I.” Rav laughed as the hunters gathered around him.
“It’s good to know you made it through,” said Briar. “What of the others?” The man glanced around, looking for signs of other folks.
Rav shook his head. “Only me,” he said. “Well, me and a bunch of those damn stinkers.”
Briar shook his head. “A shame.”
“More than you’d know,” said Rav. “Got anything to eat?”
“Of course,” said Briar. He reached to a pouch at his side and took out some of the squirrel they had killed the day before. Rav took it and quickly ate half if it with hardly a breath.
“What you doing north?” Rav asked through mouthfuls of dried meat.
“Jonah is expecting to hear from me any day now,” said Briar. “We’re scouting north, you know, just in case there’re other options. I need to send a runner to him. You got anything he needs to know about the lands of the Ninety-Five north? The more you got, the more chance we can turn back now.”
Rav stroked his beard with one hand and then turned to face the tracks. “He needs to know that neither the Cygoa nor the grumble is going to keep them underground. The Valk are coming. A lot of them motherfuckers. The tunnels stretch all the way out here and they are coming in numbers.”
Chapter 20
Loner woke to the sun warming his face. He opened his eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of the pine branches he had stretched over his lean-to the night before. The fire had dwindled down to a glowing ball of hot coals which would have his morning tea ready in a matter of minutes. Loner sat up and stretched, surprised he had slept so far into the morning. Without the constant commotion of other hunters in the camp, and all the tasks they had to complete on a daily basis, he was able to let the day unfold naturally.
He walked far enough off the trail and into the woods to avoid being noticed by other hunters but stayed close enough to the creek to draw his fresh water for the day. Briar’s men, the Valk, and all the other clans felt as if they were part of a nightmare from which he was able to wake up.
The trap had been sprung. Loner could see the branch pointing upward from where he sat. He got up, grabbed his axe, and walked fifteen yards into the woods until he saw the still, white fur of the rabbit. He bent down and pulled the rope from its broken neck, grabbing it by the scruff and holding it up in front of hi
s face. At least three or four pounds of meat by the time he skinned it, he estimated. This one trap could keep him fed for a day, or maybe even two.
The creek water had risen overnight, the water line now above the rocks he had sunbathed on the previous day. There were more farther back from the bank, and he had already chosen the one he would lie on today.
And then that fucker came back. Not the real man, but the voice which Loner couldn’t determine to be real or not. Briar.
“I have no allegiance to you,” Loner said. “Lead your hunters and leave me alone.”