Winter's Rising

by Mark Tufo

  Dystance: Winter’s Rising

  Mark Tufo

  Copyright © 2014 by Mark Tufo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedications: To my wife, without you the world would be a cold and lonely place. I know I’m a pain in the butt and I appreciate all you put up with!

  To my Beta Readers, Vix Kirkpatrick, Jaime Johnesee and Kimberly Sansone, thank you all for your help as I head off into whole new realms your input was invaluable.

  To all the men and women of the armed forces and first responders, your commitment and your sacrifices do not go unnoticed. Thank you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Dystance The Series

  Also by Mark Tufo

  Also From DevilDog Press

  Thank you

  Prologue

  War Demands sacrifice of the people. It gives only suffering in return. - Frederic Clemson Howe

  * * *

  Prologue –

  Unknown Dystance Soldier

  * * *

  OVER THE SLAMMING beat of his heart he heard the marching bootsteps of the enemy, heralding their approach like a thundering tide. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. The soldier had been told there was victory in numbers, but now, surrounded by his young friends, he felt no comfort, only terror for them all. His platoon lined up to face the coming army head-on. He stood in the seventh row of twenty; a wooden figure, trapped in position, but he had a slim chance here. The front lines would fall. Swords would clash and those poor bastards would die within the first swift minute. He wished again he’d been placed farther back. A horn sounded off in the distance. His heart was a jackhammer threatening to break straight through his ribcage.

  “This is it men!” His squad leader shouted. “Draw swords!” The ringing of metal pulled clear from leather sheaths echoed in the air.

  “Left, right, left right!”

  The soldiers’ feet rose and fell without conscious effort and the squad moved forward, a machine of flesh and steel. He would have sworn he had no control. He wouldn’t do it; he couldn’t do it. What man in his right mind would willingly walk towards death? He quickly scanned the fear stricken faces, the wide-eyed expressions of the boys around him. Panic welled up in his chest; but the thunderclap of sword on sword shattered his thoughts. Fear turned to horror as the screams of men slaughtering each other broke through his lonely reflection. He was here; present at the edge of death. Mindlessly he watched as the frenzied band around him rushed into the gnashing jaws of an insatiable monster who would devour them all. Bite after agonizing bite, the beast came closer, until he found himself swinging his sword back and forth in a pathetic attempt to keep it at bay. Hot blood sprayed across his face and he knew it was his own; when blackness finally descended upon him he instinctively called out for a mother he’d never known.

  Chapter 1

  Stuck In the Mud

  I AM WINTER, named for winter’s pure, stark beauty and the strength it takes to survive through it. My name suits me, I suppose. my hair is almost snow white, and I have survived, for my sixteen years, at least, in the ashes of what used to be a thriving world. I’m tall for my age, and I’m strong, too, and smart, I believe. But despite all that, I have almost no choice what I’ll do with my life, and I'm trying to understand why. In my region, Dystance, people are either soldiers, who go to training camps to prepare for The War, or Breeders, who go to the Bio Buildings the minute they are old enough. There are a few Meddies who heal, and Brokers who watch over us, but you are born into those select paths. Then there are the Overseers, the lords of our government. I have never seen one of them; they don’t often visit Dystance.

  Most girls end up Breeders. They say the women there are pampered, that they eat as much as they like–something I think about in the long hours between rations. But I will not go to the Bio Buildings to be constantly violated by insemination machines, getting fat and pumping out babies like a dog…babies I’ll never hold, never know.

  I’m keeping this journal in the hope that our way of life is ancient history to you, that at some point we were able to make peace, to coexist and prosper. More likely I figure by the time someone could have finally had the chance to read this we will have completely obliterated ourselves, in which case writing this is for nothing–nothing but a waste of paper–a precious resource probably worth more than my wretched life.

  Technically, Dystance is “Section CO4-DD23,” which is part of District 23 in Area 4, nestled in the mountains of Colorado. We have been at war with the other sectors around us for as long as our written history goes back–many generations. It is a war we can never win, and no one seems to know how it even started. Once a year, the Brokers gather up our eighteen-year-olds and send them off to fight. Most times we never see them again, but occasionally one or two return. They live as war heroes for a couple of years before they are once again called for duty. They are soldiers. They wage war until they die.

  Life is hard in Dystance, but it is easy, too. Staying warm, and ever getting enough food to eat–that’s hard. The easy part is the “knowing.” Everyone knows exactly what their life will be. You live with the other children in the breeder quarters until you are eight years old, then you leave. You have a few years on your own to prepare, to socialize, to exist in society. Boys that live to be eighteen go to war to defend our home. Girls return to the Bio Buildings to create more soldiers, or they choose to go to war themselves.

  The few that come back to us are not the same people as they were when they left. I’d known Poki almost my entire life; I’d wept aloud the day he left for The War. I cried tears of joy the day he came back. But when I ran up to hug him, he stiffened, his hands barely touching my waist to hug me back. And his eyes, I’ll never forget those eyes–they weren’t his. They were so cold; just dark, fathomless pools. And no matter how hard he tried to forge a smile, it never reached those eyes. Poki had always been so kind to me, sort of like what I imagined a big brother would be. After he came home, he did nothing but eat Cahol chips, which made you stupid and sleepy. He’d stumble around, yelling at everyone. I tried to break through what had happened to him.

  Once, during one of his more lucid moments, he told me it would be better if I found a way out rather than going through anything this life had to offer. I knew then that it was only a matter of time until he found one–a way out, I mean. I begged him to get help, but he drove a knife through the side of his head not more than a week later; his bed unslept in, his bag of Cahol chips empty.

  Lately I’d noticed something strange about the girls I knew who chose to go into the Bio Buildings. They emerged from time to time with that same vacant stare Poki had when he came home, as if their bodies were going through the motions but their souls had checked out ages ago. Give one life to the war, or produce many lives to give; they were like a piece of mea
t that existed to create more pieces of meat. I couldn't do it; I’d rather fight.

  Another reason I think this journal might be important to me, or to someone, is because I know our life hasn’t always been like this, and I have proof. I go outside my village often; sometimes I look for food, but I think I just like the feeling of being alone, of being unwatched. About a year ago, right after the winter of my fifteenth birthday, I was out on one of my expeditions and I came across a hole in the ground–a kind of covered-over doorway. What I found changed my life.

  Spring had come fast, and with it, torrential flooding as the mountain snows thawed quicker than the ground below could absorb the water. I was on the far side of our sector checking the paths of overflowing creek beds where the icy waters had rushed through. Sometimes animals from outside the borders got caught in the fast moving currents and are dragged down into our area. If you time it just right, you’ll find one that hasn't been dead too long or has stayed cold enough…they can make a good meal.

  The highest of the flood waters had just receded and I thought I’d seen a rabbit on the far side of a wide creek at the bottom of a gulley–I started down and nearly rolled my ankle as my feet sank into the wet grass and muddy gravel. I ended up at the bottom of the steep embankment, one leg sunk up to the knee in fresh, sticky mud. Trying to lift my foot only pressed the other leg in deeper. I fell on my bottom and could not stand back up. For a heartbeat I thought I was going to be trapped there till summer; then I heard Tallow call out to me. Tallow was my friend; almost my best friend. He was sensitive and funny, and one of only a handful of boys that did not make suggestive comments at me when I walked by.

  “Hey, Winter! You alright?” he called, running sideways down the hill.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him peevishly. I hated appearing weak, and here I was, sprawled out on the wet ground, obviously stuck. Besides that, I didn’t want anyone else knowing where my best hunting spots were–not even my friends.

  “Hey, look! A rabbit!” he said excitedly, jumping over me and grabbing the recently drowned animal by its ears. “This is a fat one. I’ll be able to get a couple of meals out of it.” He held it up near his face like a trophy.

  I wanted to tell him that was my fat rabbit, but it wasn’t, not anymore. “Get me out of here.”

  “Oh yeah, sure. Sorry,” he said, stuffing the saliva-inducing animal into the leather bag hanging at his side. “What are you doing out here, Win?” he asked. He grabbed both my wrists and pulled. One boot rose and I stood up easily, but fell forward at the waist, crashing into him. He wrapped his arms around me, gently squeezing as he tried to pull my other foot free; it didn't budge.

  I don’t know what I felt as he hugged me tight; but it wasn't unwelcome. It was a warmth that spread out from the place of contact through my entire body. His arms were both strong and comforting, and I know he felt something as well. After a moment he stepped back, his face flushed, but not with exertion.

  “Umm…you’re really stuck, Win. What are you doing out here again?”

  “Looking for food, same as you. Could you please get me out of this ditch?” And maybe wrap yourself around me again? I thought, and blushed myself.

  Tallow had lived near me my entire life, ever since I was let out of the Breeder wards. He was a year older than me, and really helped me to adjust to life “outside.” He’d always been there for me. We’d gone on more scavenger raids and hunts than I could remember...but last year…last year it was like I'd noticed him for the first time. I mean really noticed him. He had strawberry blonde hair and dark green eyes that reminded me of the meadow where we picked berries every summer. His lips had seemed pouty when we were kids–now I lay in my bed imagining how they would feel against mine.

  All Section kids are skinny, but in the span of half a year he’d filled out, became more man than a boy. He’d finally grown taller than me and broader in the shoulders. We knew everything about each other, but suddenly I found myself getting tongue-tied whenever he was around, which made no sense to me; we’d been playing and teasing each other for over seven years. Now I could barely look at him without stammering, unless I was mad at him…then I could fire all sorts of verbal assaults his way. He generally laughed them off, like I was crazy. He almost never shot back.

  “I’ll help you out on one condition,” he said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  “No conditions, nothing. You will get me out of here!”

  “That’s too bad,” he said as he began to move away.

  “Tal, come on, help me! Please!”

  “Win asking ‘please’? This must be bad.”

  The more I struggled, the more stuck I got. My boot had filled up and the wet ground created a vacuum. Tallow sat down right where the grass had mostly dried, facing me. I didn’t know what to say. He took out a carry-sized bundled roll of sticks and moss for kindling, and built a small fire using a fire-bow we’d made almost three years ago. We had kept that a secret–something like that could get you killed.

  “Tal. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m starting a fire, then I’m going to skin this rabbit, cook it, eat it, and then probably take a nice long nap.”

  My legs were tired; I collapsed back down and thought about the last time Tallow had helped me. It was the summer of my thirteenth year. Cedar, my best friend, and I had been out by the blueberry field before I’d yet discovered my dislike of them. The sky was a brilliant blue, not a cloud visible for miles. Except for the occasional mosquito, the day was perfect. As usual, Cedar had been talking non-stop about this boy or that, only pausing long enough to make sure I was still listening. I would nod at all the voids in conversation and murmur “uh huh.” It seemed enough to appease her and she would continue.

  “They’re all the same,” I’d finally said. “It’s not like you’re going to choose a mate.”

  “What do you care? You like Tallow anyway.” She’d said it just to gauge my reaction, but I kept my thoughts quiet.

  That we were even talking like this was against every rule of our society. We do not bond; it only causes grief and unrest. I think that was why she talked about it so much and so loudly. I often thought about changing things, even talked about it sometimes, but Cedar was the real rebel. Sometimes she had me afraid of what she might do next.

  “Tallow’s nice,” I responded around a mouthful of berries.

  “Nice? That’s the best you can say? You two have been inseparable for...forever I guess.”

  I guess we had been. I enjoyed his company as much as Cedar’s, although with Tallow I could enjoy an easy-going silence, something that was completely foreign to Cedar. My belly full of fresh, juicy berries, I felt content as I stretched my body out on the soft ground. I stared up into the sky wondering if the stars were somehow there, hidden under all that color. Cedar and Tallow both believed that they came back with the night. For some reason I could not explain I was sure that they were always there. That is what I chose to believe; that they were looking down on us, always.

  “Shhh,” Cedar said to me.

  “I’m not talking, you are,” I told her.

  “Shhh,” she said again.

  “What?” I sat up on my elbows.

  “You hear that?”

  “All I hear is you talking about how pretty Hendrich’s hair is. I’m sure he’d love to hear how beautiful his locks are.”

  “I’m serious, Winter.”

  “What is it?” My tone changed with hers.

  And then I heard it, the bark of a dog. We could hear them from time to time from up in the mountains but it was usually just a far-off echo. This was closer, much closer. Tallow had scared us with all sorts of stories about how wild dogs came down to the village in harsh weather looking for food. He’d said they were fearless and would attack anything in sight, even humans. I believed him without question. I knew how crippling the pull of hunger could be; there was not much I would not do to get something to eat. W
hy would dogs be any different?

  I’d yet to see one up close, and I hoped to keep it that way. We’d dealt with coyotes a couple of times but they would generally keep their distance–they seemed more afraid of us than we were of them. They never got close enough to me to realize just how frightened I’d been, as well. The one time they did approach us, Tallow had talked soothingly to me to keep me calm. He said it was important to not display fear or run, for doing so would trigger a hunting response in the animal.

  I grabbed Cedar’s leg as she began to stand. “Stay down.”

  She looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, right,” she said, getting back to the ground quickly.

  The blueberry bushes were just high enough to keep us concealed as long as we stayed flat. If they discovered us like this, though, we would be completely defenseless.

  By the sound of their barking, I could tell there was a pack of them out there and they were getting closer.

  “What are we going to do, Winter?” Cedar’s eyes were large and questioning.

  The blueberries, which had sat contentedly only moments before were now beginning to sour and trying to find their way from my stomach into my throat, along with my heavily beating heart.

  “We’ll just stay low and quiet. They’ll go by.” That was my wish, anyway.

  The barking became higher and quicker. Something had made them excited. My hope was it was a deer or even a rabbit, anything to make them go away. My limbs began to twitch, fear racing through them. It was all I could do to not stand and make a run for it. The nearest tree was across a large expanse, it was climbable if we could reach it, but as of yet I did not know exactly where the dogs were. In all likelihood they could be between us and the potentially safe perch.