While it had taken forty-two days for Maguire and his group to venture into the unknown, it had taken other groups of survivors less time to come to the conclusion they needed food, water, and information.
Approaching the door to the warehouse, Maguire and his team could see two things: other ropes leading away from the door and a crudely painted greeting on its surface—please knock for entrance. With his hand poised over the metallic surface, the surprise of the door swinging inward caused him to take a quick step back. Silhouetted in the frame was another man wrapped up against the elements.
With the sudden jostling of the group outside, the moment of surprise was broken by Lily’s scream of panic. She’d lost her footing in the shuffle and was swept a short distance away by the wind, the rope around coiled round her the only saving grace.
Tension on the ropes linking them together threw each of them off balance, a chain reaction of falls that might have been comical if it hadn’t meant potential death. Curtis, panicking and calling out for help over the roar of the wind, sought to untie himself, not wanting to be pulled away with the rest. Succeeding meant his death, but his mind was unable to see that.
Coming up short as their collective rope pulled taut around a nearby light standard, Maguire was finally able to catch his breath, despite the force of the wind pulling the rope tighter across his chest. He looked up to see his team, the effort difficult against the current of the wind.
“Curtis!” The words were stolen by the wind the moment they left his lips. “Curtis! Stop! You’ll be swept away!”
Fighting to be heard over the wind’s howl, Maguire could only watch the scene upwind from him as Curtis picked at the knot on his side. It seemed like an eternity, struggling for the strength to stand before Curtis was able to release himself. And then it was over. Curtis’ body slid past him over the scrubbed surface of the asphalt, arms flailing, looking for something to grab hold of, but finding nothing.
Looking back to the door, Maguire could still see the man watching as the events unfolded before him. The lure of the open door was inviting and somewhere he found the strength to stand against the wind, helping the remaining team to their feet, all of them slowly making their way back to the door of the warehouse.
Life developed into some sort of rhythm after the first trip to the warehouse. Maguire and the rest of their group became part of a larger community connected by lengths of ropes strung around poles across the windswept expanses. They had a source of food and water, albeit a dwindling one, and connection to other survivors. Over the months that stretched into years, they developed methods for survival. Some were able to scrounge enough soil to grow food, while others had managed to drill deep enough to find a source of clean water. None of them knew what was going on beyond the existence they’d carved out, but survival had a way of making much of that unnecessary. The insulating effect of the event made them family, and life went on. There were even a few babies born in the era of the wind.
Not that living under the conditions in their new world was perfect. Over the years, they had lost many to illness, injury, and psychosis. Each group settled into their own buildings had reinforced what they could, but the wind was never far away. It called to them, reminded them of its ever-presence. Like background noise, it faded for some. Others heard its howls itching inside their brains. Unfamiliar noises became familiar and soon most of them had a haunted look that would flash momentarily before being hidden away again.
The knocking started early one morning, waking the few who had learned that sleeping deeply was a thing of the past. As they gathered by the outer door, listening to the ominous thumping, cracks began to form. Not in the walls, but in those few who gathered to listen.
“What is it?” Lily asked, her face contorting each time the loud slap was heard over the howling of the wind.
“I don’t know…” It was Maguire, the elected leader of the group. Somehow along the way, he’d been selected. It was a job he didn’t particularly want, but he knew the others wanted it even less. “Anyone know what time it is?”
Lily looked at the watch on her hand, an old wind-up model she’d gotten from her grandmother before the winds started. “It says its quarter to five, but I don’t know how reliable this thing is.”
“Well, we’ve got a few hours until the sun comes up. I think we should try to get whatever sleep we can get before trying to figure out what’s making the noise.”
It was a solid plan. There was nothing they could do until the sun rose and gave them a few feet of visibility. And the rule was that no one opened the door at night for any reason.
As they went back to their makeshift rooms, the knocking reverberated throughout the still air inside. It hammered their minds and made sleep impossible. Gathering again in the common area, they sat and listened, marking the minutes with the rhythmic slapping of the concrete façade.
Once it had felt like an eternity had passed, Maguire got up, making his way toward the outer door. Opening it slowly, he peered out into the light of the new day, squinting his eyes against the sand that rode the wind that flowed down the streets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the rope as it beat against the side of the building. Closing the door, he turned to find a few members of his new family waiting for his report.
“It’s the rope. It must have come loose during the night and now it’s flapping up against the wall. We’ll have to make our way over to the warehouse to repair it later today.” Maguire spoke with an efficiency he’d gained over the years.
“You saw the end?” It was Graham who asked the question.
“Yeah. I can see about five feet of rope in total—Wait, what happened to the rest of the rope?” Maguire had a look of concern on his face as he tried to work out why only a short portion of the rope was smacking up against the pocked concrete. Going back to the door, he swung it open carefully and drew the length of rope into the building, gusts of wind ruffling his hair as he pulled.
Examining the edge sent a chill of recognition down his spine. The edge was shorn clean through. Something sharp had blown through last night; it was always a fear of theirs when they were on the outside—one of the many things they couldn’t control.
“It’s been cut. Probably something that blew through last night. We’ll have to take a trip out to repair it today.”
“Okay, sounds good. We could do with a few supplies from the warehouse anyway, so we’ll kill two birds with one stone.” Graham turned to get ready, thinking it was best to get to it right away. “We’ll leave in ten minutes?”
“Yeah, ten minutes is good. Lily and Rob, you’re coming, too. I’ll need the extra hands out there.” Maguire moved to the storeroom to grab the extra lengths of rope they would need and get his harness on. “And we’ll need at least two people here on the end of each of our ropes just in case we get swept off our feet. I don’t want to lose anyone today.”
As everyone got into place, the importance of the cut end plagued Maguire. This was the first time anything had cut through the ropes that connected them all together, and they’d been out there for quite some time. Figuring it would have happened sooner or later, he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.
The outer door opened, exposing them once again to the wind, and they set off in the direction of the warehouse. It was slow going, with frequent stops for them to catch their breaths and unwind lengths of nylon rope around the light standards. It was like the first day they had made the trip all over again.
The closer they got to the warehouse, the more it became apparent that something had happened. Loose ends tied around posts flapped in the constant wind. Upon examination, something had cut into them, as well.
Pulling down his face mask, Maguire leaned in close to Graham’s ear. “There’s something about this that seems off to me. Why are all of these cut? I heard nothing last night hitting the outside of the building except for the knocking of the rope on the side.”
<
br /> The fear grew in Graham’s eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t hear anything, either. What could have done this?”
They shared a look. It had been a fear that many of them had not talked about in years. Marauders, other survivors, scavengers. Whatever you wanted to call them, there had been talk of them in the beginning, but the sheer force of the wind and its ability to destroy had calmed those nerves before they’d had a chance to take hold. There was no way that a roving band of people would be able to survive under these conditions. Not with the howling wind.
“Let’s get to the warehouse. We need to reconnect these lines.” It was best for them to focus on the reason for the mission.
The team worked their way forward slowly, straining against the constant pressure of the wind and the reinforcing tension on the lines trailing behind them. Coming up to the warehouse, they saw the door was wide open. It was never left open. None of their outer doors were ever left open for long.
Alarmed, they all rushed forward, pulling the tension on their attached lines taut. In reaction, they were pulled from their feet as the tension was misunderstood as a fall. Dragged back for a few feet before coming to a stop, they regained their footing with each other’s help. More cautiously, they approached the front of the building, careful not to trigger their anchors on the other end.
Reaching the open doorway, they entered, fearful of what they may find.
“Hello?”
The sound echoed against the walls. No one answered.
The silence was eerie. Normally the warehouse was full of activity.
“Hello?” Maguire called out again.
Still no one answered him.
“Where did everyone go?” Lily asked as she pulled the covering from over her mouth.
“I have no idea, Lil. Everyone just seems to have gone…” His voice trailed off as Maguire checked the offices in the front for any clues.
Graham walked to the communication board to see if there was a message left by the inhabitants of the warehouse. The last entry had been made the previous day, announcing the birth of Isabella and Steve’s new baby girl in the gym down the street. “What’s going on, Maguire? Why aren’t they here?”
“I have no idea.” He scratched his head, attempting to work out the problem with his fingers against his scalp. “I say we make for one of the other buildings and see if they know anything. We might as well help to reattach their connections.”
The team agreed and they started out again, this time unanchored—with no one in the warehouse to act as a support system, they were venturing out without much protection from the wind.
“Guys, you need to look as this.”
All three remaining heads turned in the direction of Lily’s voice. Their eyes caught the crudely transcribed message on the wall, each of them taking the time to read it:
Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows...
“What does that mean?”
“I have no idea… but it was something Euripides said,” Graham responded.
“Okay, guys, let’s get going. I want to try and make it to the next building before it gets dark out.” The message had chilled something in Maguire. It seemed oddly ominous and there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Over the next few hours they struggled into the wind, slowly making their way in the direction of the next satellite building. Following the cut ends of the ropes wound around poles and lampposts, they felt they were going in the right direction.
Out of the swirling air the gym appeared, its large tempered glass windows reinforced from the inside with wooden boards. Its front doors were open but protected from the wind by their direction in relation to the wind.
They made their way inside, unsure of what they would find. “Hello? It’s Maguire from the Sporting Goods store. Anyone here?”
No one answered his greeting. They searched, but found no one.
“Guys, over here.”
The rest of them ran toward the sound of Graham’s voice, expecting to find everyone huddled somewhere, hiding.
Instead they found the same inscription: Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows...
“Something’s very wrong here, Maguire.”
“I agree, Lily...” Maguire felt the icy fingers of fear along his spine, the tiny ancillary hairs on his body standing at attention. “Okay, guys, time to go.”
Within minutes they were all making their way back along the rope railing to the warehouse. They didn’t stop to reattach their anchors, continuing instead toward the place they called home. It took them many minutes, all of them consumed by thoughts of panic and despair. What had happened to everyone else?
Arriving home, they were greeted by an open door, the anchor lines flapping at a much shorter length. Rushing inside, they searched in earnest, but not finding anyone. Scrawled across the wall, in the same crude scrawl was—Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows...
ABANDON HOPE ALL YEA WHO ENTER HERE
Stephen B. Pearl
Hope leaned back and smiled with cruel self-satisfaction at the image in the pool of clear water that stood on a marble dais in front of her. Light reflected off the water casting macabre shadows on the rough, cavern-like walls of her chamber. Bands of blood red and black crossed the gray stone. Hope appeared as a beautiful, dark-haired woman with a harsh cast to her features clad in a black, satin gown. She was like a lovely image cast in ice. Wondrous to look at, but you know she will be cold to the touch.
“You are a real bitch!” said Builder. He appeared as a tall, muscular man with a shaved head clad in a linen kilt with a triangle and compass hung from a belt around his waist. “You let him think he could finally win after he manoeuvred all your obstacles then to put up a barrier. I had plans for that one. His mind is open to much that is nearly possible for his kind, and he has a means to be heard by those who will make it so. If his work isn’t seen it can’t inspire.”
“Oh, get over yourself. You and Justice forced through some of his works, and I owe the two of you for that.” Hope’s voice was vicious. “Use another pawn for the rest. I like playing with this one, teasing him is fun. He is so determined. For fifty two years I’ve tweaked his world. Never any one blow so telling as to in and of itself stop him, but the cumulative effect has been quite devastating. And still he keeps coming. Still I feast from him.”
Builder shook his head. “What did the poor bastard ever do to you?”
Hope looked nostalgic and her appearance shifted to that of a muscular, bare-chested, red-haired man with blue tattoos adorning his arms and chest. The voice was deep and resonant. “Several mortal lives before I took on the mantle of Hope, I wanted the woman that is his wife. She chose him over me.” A chuckle escaped Hope as he directed a bit of water spray up from the road onto the alternator belt of his victim’s car. “Watch this. The chain of events that will follow will be surprising from such a small thing.” Hope gestured to the vision pool where the drop of water caused the alternator belt to slip just a little adding to the strain on it.
“We all know you are a master at what you do, but really, don’t you think you should give this pawn a bite of the carrot? After all, fair is fair. To ruin him in life after life just because another spirit preferred his company to yours seems excessive, and what of the damage you cause the other spirit?”
Hope sneered and was once more the beautiful, cold woman. “She pays for her affront as he fails her. Her lesson is well taught. Besides, what would be the fun in letting my toy rest?”
“He could abandon you completely. Keep pushing and what is to stop him from throwing the High Ones’ gift back in our faces?”
“If he does I get to start him at the beginning and have him go through it all over again. It is a delicious irony.”
“Have you thought that your pawns would yield more of your nature per unit if you cultivated them? At present you ar
e like a hunter that takes breeding females. You feast today, but you degrade your stock. Once you have sucked the last of your nature from a pawn you can no longer feed on it. With nothing to encourage them your nature dies within them. Your actions are… short-sighted.” Builder watched as the pawn grit his teeth against a sciatica attack as he maneuvered his damaged car into a parking lot, and, with no other option, brought his small stock of books for sale into the con. The rage against the pattern that had been the pawn’s life was high, but still the pawn would not abandon the hope that he could make something of the con, could make something of himself.
A tall, lean, ibis-headed man wearing a linen kilt walked up from the back of the room and moved to look at the pool. “Builder has a point. Even the strongest will break under enough stress. The High Ones might grant him an exception should he choose to end his incarnation early. You need to stop torturing him; he has paid enough for his past deeds. He isn’t learning anything more by being punished for things he doesn’t even remember. He is mine as well you know.”
“Thank you, Justice. Hope, you are taking a foolish risk. The High Ones won’t stand for you twisting the rules like you are. Abandon this game,” pleaded Builder.
“Pshaw!” Hope waved her hand dismissively. “I’m in keeping with the rules. That’s why it is always small things that block my chosen pawns. Things that are just chance. Never one thing large enough to attract the High Ones’ attention or excuse the pawn taking extreme action. It is only if the entire life is reviewed that a pattern will be revealed. The High Ones are too busy with their own affairs to study the incarnations of pawns. As to diminishing my flock, there are more than enough new pawns to feed off of.”
“I had a use for the one you are teasing. I could report you for interfering with my duties.” Builder glared at Hope.
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