The Mutation Breakdown

by E S Richards

  The cleaning at that point had started to take its toll on her injured body so Zahyra stopped to rest and inspect her wounds again. Her chest and ribs were still badly bruised although as she felt them tenderly with her fingertips she decided it was unlikely any of her ribs were broken; a couple fractured at most. The cut on her arm was finally healing properly now as well, after being reopened in her fight with the mutant T the previous day. She redressed it with one of the torn up rags and discarded the old bloody one in the fire.

  All of this had taken Zahyra no more than an hour and there was still about thirty minutes of sunlight left before it would grow dark and the long night would set in. Looking around the rest of the hut there were just the boxes of random assorted items that were left to sort through, although Zahyra didn’t know if she should do that as there may be personal items hidden away inside them. Instead, deciding to make the most of the last few minutes of sunlight she slipped outside and took in the surrounding area of Cain’s hut.

  Around one side of the hut was the flat rock that Cain had been chopping wood on earlier that day. Sat beside it was a basket of wood covered by a lid that looked to have been weaved from grass, similar to the basket. The axe, Zahyra noticed, was nowhere in sight. In the distance on that side of the hut there was a small collection of trees where Cain clearly travelled to collect branches to chop down into smaller firewood.

  On the other side of the hut there was the mountain face in the distance but they’d travelled much further inland on the motorbike yesterday than Zahyra had realised and there was quite a distance now between her and the rocky wall. For this she was glad, as clinging to that mountain face had done her absolutely no good in the end. She stood and watched however, as the sun slowly drifted down in the sky and hid behind the mountain, then a sharp chill rushed over her body and she hurried back inside to the warmth of the fire.

  For the next couple of hours Zahyra paced around the hut. She ate some more beetle broth and rearranged the blankets once more; she even attempted to sweep the floor with the remaining rags her and Cain had torn up for her to use as bandages. Although it was now dark, for the first time since leaving her camp Zahyra was not tired and her inquisitiveness slowly began to get the better of her.

  Giving in to herself she got up from where she sat in front of the fire and made her way over to the boxes. She knew she shouldn’t rifle through Cain’s personal possessions but she was beginning to ache with boredom and there was very little else she could think to occupy her mind with. Resolving to lay everything out in a line that she withdrew from the boxes so she could return things in the right order, Zahyra set to work.

  The first box she emptied proved to be remarkably uninteresting. It was merely filled with pots and pans, scraps of metal and clothes. She found a few tools at the bottom but nothing of interest whatsoever, it almost seemed a waste of her time she grumbled, repacking everything in the correct order. Her levels of anticipation at an all time low she began taking things out of the second box in the same meticulous fashion – just in case. It started off very similar: an old frying pan and a pair of boots, followed by two worn out blankets that were so moth-eaten Zahyra didn’t understand why Cain was still keeping them.

  As she was laying the blankets down on the floor a photograph slipped out from between them. In the picture there was a young boy that Zahyra quickly recognised as Cain. She thought he looked about ten or eleven years old, but then she noticed that he wore a vest in the picture and no branding was visible on his right arm. In that case Zahyra deemed that the photograph must have been taken not long before his tenth birthday.

  There was a cheeky smile plastered over his face and a twinkle in his eye Zahyra hoped she would see some more of.

  Cain was stood in between two other boys that looked like twins and could only be a year or two younger than he was. They must be his brothers. Behind the three young boys were their mother and father, Zahyra squinted at the picture and made out that Cain’s father was a Gen 3 but couldn’t figure out the branding on his mother’s arm. They looked like such a happy family and Zahyra wondered why Cain kept this picture hidden away inside a box rather than on display. If Zahyra had a picture of her family with her she would undoubtedly look at it all the time, for now the images in her memories would have to do.

  Putting aside the picture she wondered why Cain had left his family. It looked like a great crowd to grow up in, but then Zahyra knew a lot could change in six years. She wondered then whether it was the result from his Turning Age Ceremony that had sealed Cain’s fate to leave his family. Maybe his ranking didn’t fit into the rest of the family’s and he was forced to leave, or maybe he left because he thought they were beneath him. Once again Zahyra had to stop herself from spinning a web of possible tales about Cain and what kind of mutant he would turn out to be. She glanced at the picture once more, taking in his childish grin and focused on that, a happy child.

  Then she thought of Asher who must be a very similar age to the Cain in that photograph and wished with all her heart that she could save him and take a similar picture when they were reunited with their mother. Her dreams of the safe haven still floating around in the back of her head.

  The remaining contents of the second box passed by without any further highlights and Zahyra carefully repacked that one as well, making sure the picture was hidden just like before amongst the blankets. Once this was done she crawled over to her neat nest of bedding and tucked herself in, thinking of course about Asher and what he would be doing right now. With these thoughts in her head she willed for sleep to come and take her away, but unlike the night before it wasn’t so welcoming and Zahyra lay on the blankets listening to the nighttime sounds of the desert.

  Minutes passed and Zahyra stared at the ceiling above her. The fire was still crackling softly in the room with her, but her ears now twitched in response to every little noise she heard outside. What sounded like a pack of wild dogs were howling in the distance, their barks and yowls echoing off the mountain wall making it sound like there were hundreds of them. Accompanying this was the whooshing sound the wind made as it crept through the gap at the bottom of the doorway and snuck into the hut alongside her. Listening to these outside noises Zahyra wrapped herself more tightly in the blankets, cutting off the breeze that tickled her toes and flickered against her back. She slept in her sweater as usual but was still cold and frightened on what she could only assume was just a normal desert night.

  The three nights prior to this one she had either been unconscious or so exhausted she just crashed out oblivious to what was going on around her. But tonight she was not so tired, her body had not been through much at all that day and she lay frightened in bed, her mind soaring through everything that could possibly be out there in the desert. Everything that could possibly go wrong.

  Sleep must have found her eventually but something caused her to wake with a start in the middle of the night. Pulling the blankets towards her body Zahyra opened her eyes wide, willing herself to be able to see more in the darkness – for the fire had all but died out. She strained her ears to listen for what had woken her but heard nothing. An eerie silence swept over the room and she wriggled down beneath the blankets even further, trying to make herself invisible as she had done in the sand to hide from the headlights of a mutant SUV two nights before.

  Zahyra was learning fast that the desert was not somewhere she enjoyed spending time, least of all at night and especially not alone. Despite his strange mannerisms and his unwillingness to engage in conversation Zahyra wished that Cain would hurry back. She closed her eyes again thinking about him, about all the mysteries that already revolved around him despite her only having known him for little more than a day.

  As the dozed off once more she willed him to be there in the morning when she woke. She willed him to be ready so they could go and save Asher. She willed her body to recover quicker so they could make the journey. A few hours later when the morning sun began to peak into the
hut and Zahyra awoke she was crestfallen to discover that she was still completely alone.

  She forced herself to rise from her nest of blankets and occupy herself, knowing that if she kept busy the time would pass much quicker. Her only problem was that there was very little do to, aside from jobs that required physical labour, which in her state she was unable to perform. She tidied the bedding area once more and poured herself another bowl of beetle broth from the fire. She noted that the broth was all but finished now, so something else would have to be made for later that day. Sadly in her state she knew she could not hunt so returned half of her portion to the pot for Cain to eat when he finally got back home.

  The rest of the day passed slowly, midday dusk came and went as did the few hours of sunlight afterwards. Cain eventually returned home after darkness had fully set in, Zahyra had caved an hour earlier and finished off the rest of the food she was supposed to be saving for him. When he entered the hut there was an air of desperation surrounding him, but relief seemed to wash over his face when he noticed Zahyra curled up in the blankets in the corner. She was reading an old book she’d found by the fireplace that had been so covered in dust she originally thought it was a rock. She snapped the book closed when she noticed him come in and rose to her feet to greet him.

  “Hey,” she smiled, “welcome back.”

  Cain looked at her, breathing heavily for a moment and then eventually returned her smile. He removed his jacket and folded it across the table, then walked towards the fire and bent down to look at what remained in the pot.

  “Oh I’m sorry,” Zahyra started, “I kind of ate it all…” she finished hesitantly. Immediately scolding herself internally for eating all the food when she knew Cain would be returning eventually. To her surprise he looked up and smiled at her then beckoned her to follow him outside. Strapped to the back of his motorcycle there was a wild dog, its eyes lolled back in its head and its tongue hanging out of its mouth slightly. Zahyra gasped when she saw it then looked up at Cain who had a proud grin on his face.

  “Supper.” He remarked complacently as he began to untie the ropes keeping the dog on the bike and carried it inside.

  Zahyra had never eaten wild dog before. She’d seen them killed of course when they had invaded her old camp, but the elders had always refused to eat them saying it would bring bad luck and invite them back again. She followed Cain inside and spent the next couple of hours helping him prepare the animal for eating. Cain first showed her how to remove the skin so he could make it into a rug like the others in his hut. Zahyra thought this was particularly disgusting, learning how to skin an animal, but she knew Cain was going out of his way to teach her things that could come in useful one day so she did her best to put her feelings aside and pay attention.

  Eventually they had the animal prepared and skewered two large chunks of meat, which Cain then propped up over the fire. Once they were cooked he handed one to Zahyra and took the other himself, instantly talking a huge bite out of it and sucking in at the juices. Zahyra watched as drops of blood trickled down his chin and dropped onto the ground where he sat. He was almost animalistic when he ate, tearing off huge chunks of flesh with his teeth. Cain paused after a couple of bites, noticing Zahyra hadn’t eaten any hers yet.

  “Eat.” He directed her. “Good.”

  As Zahyra’s stomach growled at her she pulled herself away from watching Cain and sunk her teeth into the piece of wild dog she had in front of her. Her eyes widened as the flavours bounced around her palette and the moisture from the meat began to ooze out of the sides of her mouth as had happened to Cain. She ripped off the chunk of meat in her mouth and licked her lips whilst chewing to try and catch any of the flavour that was running down her face. Without a doubt she knew she had never tasted meat this tender and savoured every mouthful as she devoured the skewer in record time.

  It quickly became Cain’s turn to watch her eat and he marvelled at her ferocity. By the time the two of them had both finished eating they were dirty with blood and giddy from the full meal. Zahyra lay back on the ground in front of the fire, her stomach bloated and her mouth salivating.

  “That was incredible,” she panted after a moment, feeling an overwhelming sensation of fullness in her tiny shrunken stomach that she hadn’t felt in over a week. Cain laughed in response. It was a sweet, wholesome laugh that Zahyra hadn’t heard before. She smiled, thinking it sounded sincere. “Thank you,” she added looking up at Cain from where she lay.

  The rest of the evening passed with a blur. Zahyra remained on the ground for a while longer, watching Cain as he tidied up the rest of the food and stored it somewhere. She offered to help but he immediately turned her down and to be honest, she was more than happy to remain where she was after a meal like that. When the time came for them to retire to bed she tried once again to let Cain have his bed back and once again he declined. They settled instead for him taking a collection of the blankets with which Zahyra helped him make his own little bed in front of the fire.

  As she closed her eyes that night Zahyra felt relaxed and happy. None of the desert sounds that had frightened her so much the night before seemed to bother her and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The following two days and nights passed with remarkable similarity. Cain went out to work once more but only for a couple of hours and he brought back another book for Zahyra to read, for she quickly finished the one she found in his hut. They ate copious amounts of wild dog and worked on the skin of the animal until it was a fitting rug, which they lay in front of the fire.

  In the evenings Zahyra told him stories about what her life had been like before with her mother and Asher. Cain listened intently and contributed occasionally, but only in small sentences or one-word answers when he wanted to know more about certain things. Zahyra willed him to share stories about his life but he refused to divulge, often becoming reclusive when she asked and phasing himself out of the conversation. After a while she gave up, happy to tell him more about herself instead.

  All the worry she had in her mind about not being able to trust Cain seemed to fade away and she found herself coming to depend on him more and more as each day went on. It seemed incredible to her how comfortable she quickly felt around him and how she almost felt like she had known him for much longer, even though it had only been a matter of days.

  Zahyra continued to work on her strength while they remained at Cain’s hut, the bruising on her ribs still dark and unattractive but thankfully much less painful. And the wound on her arm was all but a scratch now. On the fifth evening that she spent with him, Cain invited her out to go hunting for food, the remains of the wild dog having been finished that morning.

  He handed her a spear he kept somewhere outside his hut, although not anywhere Zahyra had noticed when she was looking around a few days before. They walked through the desert towards the woods a couple of miles from Cain’s hut just after the sun had gone down, so the air was cooler but not yet too cold to be outside in. Once there Cain encouraged Zahyra to be the lead hunter, and she set them on a trail in search of rabbits. The expedition ended successfully as Zahyra speared one right through the back; two had gotten away from her earlier but she triumph of killing the third one even with her damaged ribs filled Zahyra with pride.

  She curled up in bed later that night with another full stomach and a smile on her face and then she heard Cain say something that brightened up her day even further.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered into the darkness. Zahyra sat up in her bed unsure whether she’d actually heard him speak or it was her mind playing tricks on her, but then he spoke again.

  “Tomorrow we will find your brother.”

  Zahyra sank back down into her blanket nest, a grin plastered across her face from ear to ear. She had proved that evening whilst hunting that she was strong enough and she knew she was now ready to do this. The thought of finding her brother tomorrow filled her with so much excitement she could hardly sleep, but knowing she�
��d need her strength for their journey forced herself to close her eyes and dream of her little brother. Very soon they would be together again.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning Zahyra woke early. Cain was still sleeping in front of the dwindling fire, his chest heaving slowly up and down as he breathed, the faintest of snores escaping his mouth. Zahyra carefully leaned over him and added more wood to the fire, then grabbed a blanket from the nest where she slept and crept quietly outside.

  She sat down against the front wall of the hut and wrapped the blanket around herself to watch the sunrise. She used to do this from time to time with her mother and father when she was little, before Asher had been born and her father abandoned them. She never slept very well when she was younger so would be awake before sunrise almost every morning, which would often mean she woke her parents up before sunrise too. Although they would regularly scold her and try to get her to go back to bed there were also times when they got up and went outside to watch the sunrise with her.

  Zahyra was always amazed by how big the sun looked as it edged its way up and over the horizon, shooting rays of bright colours over towards her and her parents. It was at times like that she had wished she could see a wider colour spectrum that everyone else, hence why she often pretended that was her Gen 1 mutation when anyone asked.

  She thought back to these memories now and then felt sad realising she had never taken the time to watch the sunrise with Asher. Once he was born and her father left Zahyra had been forced to grow up very quickly. Gone were the times when it was okay to wake her mother in the early hours of the morning and gone were the times she could cry and beg her to watch the sunrise with her. At only seven years old Zahyra had to pretend she had matured much faster than everyone else and that her childish tendencies had sadly left along with her father.