Tremor: If your world was falling apart, how far would you go to save it? (The Tremor Cycle)

by Ryan Mark

  ‘Althea? Ori? Igraine…’ whispered William, a lump rising in his throat. He forced it back down. ‘Crap…’

  He staggered to his feet, trembling. Crap, it hurt, but he tried to push away the bleeding pains. ‘Come on, stay with it,’ he told himself, limping along the fence line. He looked through the wires and back up to the tracks, shaking his head. There was no way he’d chance them again. It was too risky now.

  He held onto the fence, pulling himself along. He looked to his left. It was like some kind of enclosure, stretching quite far into the fallen landscape. Ahead was another fence. Face scrunched at the impending anguish, he realised he’d have to haul himself over it.

  A few steps more and he came to a large metal plate attached to the wiring. He ran his fingers over each of the engraved letters: South Bay Animal Park. He was in an animal enclosure? Surely it’d been long deserted? A couple of crimson-stained objects lay scattered on the ground around his feet. His eyes closed.

  Bones.

  William paused. What was that rustle? He squinted, trying to focus on where the noise had come from, but it was too dark. His heart began to pound. Things really weren’t going well, worse than he had ever imagined. Desperate and starving animals hadn’t figured on his radar, not seriously.

  Something swooped out behind him.

  ‘Oh God, oh crap!’ stammered William, pulling himself even faster along the fence.

  He heard a snarl. What animals snarled? Tigers? Lions? William shook his head. Wolves.

  Shadows began to slice through him. He stopped, feet becoming rooted in the earth. The smell of rotten flesh and blood made him gag. He was being hunted.

  As far as he could tell, there were four of them, four salivating wolves. They seemed to be taunting him, inching closer, anticipating a kill. He held onto the fence tightly, wondering how much it would hurt.

  Lightning shot past William’s temple, vibrating his ear. He grabbed the side of his head, eyes wide with confusion. A pain-stricken howl ruptured the silence, followed by the sound of padded feet scampering away. William gripped the fence harder, managing to stay upright. All was still.

  ‘What the hell?’ he said out loud.

  ‘You could be a bit more appreciative,’ said someone quite close.

  William looked over his shoulder, face contorting. He was weary, aching. ‘W–who’s there?’

  ‘Someone who would like to help, but you should decide quickly. Those beasts are hungry and won’t be gone for long. They are very territorial and hunt in packs, and they’ll be back.’

  The wolves had been scared off then. The feeling of relief didn’t last as the new shadow of uncertainty hit him. Who the hell had saved him? And why? ‘Show yourself.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  A man with crow-like features stepped forward, only half of his pallid face visible in the dwindling light.

  ‘Merle!’ William was astonished. ‘I thought you were dead! How did you get away from the bandits?’

  Merle roughly swung William’s arm over his shoulders. ‘The bandits have developed a rationing system, whereby they don’t kill all their victims on site, but take a few to their camps for later. I managed to escape when they went on one of their raids.’

  William gulped. What did that mean for the others who’d been with him?

  ‘From what I can tell, the Peace Enforcers have been tracking you for some time,’ said Merle, letting William go and managing to tear part of the fence away to provide an escape route. ‘I was too late to stop them from scattering your group, but I don’t think they caught anyone. I’m guessing they figured the wolves would get you. They can be a lazy bunch at times, especially when they aren’t under anyone’s authority out here.’

  ‘I hope the others make it to Stone Cross,’ whispered William, ducking under the barbs of wire, making a concerted effort not to pass out from the pain.

  ‘I knew this mission was worthless from the get go, but no one ever listens to me,’ said Merle, gloom evident in his eyes. ‘Why attack them when we can wait for them to attack us and use our valley as a vantage point?’

  ‘If we do that all the people they’ve kidnapped will be sacrificed,’ said William, scowling with resentment.

  ‘They’re probably dead, boy,’ spat Merle. ‘Why risk our lives for those of the dead?’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ William shouted, pushing Merle into the fence. ‘How can you know that?’

  Merle held up his hands. ‘Don’t punish me for my opinions. I’m with you now anyway, so whatever happens one of us will be proven right.’

  William released his grip on Merle’s leather jacket. ‘Sorry. It’s just…’

  ‘You still have hope, I get it,’ said Merle, swinging the crossbow back over his shoulder and shaking his head.

  The ground trembled, heaving upwards then dropping back again. William kept his balance, limping on through the outskirts of Gravenshard, followed by Merle. He realised now that the track actually cut through the town, so their plans of trying to avoid the place wouldn’t have worked. Their map was obviously an old one that didn’t include the housing estates built on the outskirts.

  William looked away from the signs of destruction and pulled out the map. ‘Keep to the rail tracks. Well that’s gone out the window,’ he told himself, grabbing hold of a bent lamppost when the tremor’s intensity increased once more.

  Merle stumbled along, crossbow aimed in front of him. ‘After the tremor we may encounter bandits. For some reason they begin their hunts after a big one hits. I picked up a few things during my short incarceration with them.’

  William pressed on, trying to maintain balance. Merle may have saved him, but there was something still unnerving about him, and his attitude stank. William clamped his teeth together. He wasn’t going to let it get to him. He couldn’t let it get to him.

  ‘Have you got any water?’ he asked, coughing, not even turning to look at Merle.

  Merle passed him a hip flask. ‘I managed to collect a little rainwater a couple of nights back.’

  William flipped the cap and took a quick sip. It felt as though he’d been eating sawdust for the past week, but the water brought his tongue back to life. ‘Thanks,’ he said begrudgingly, holding it out.

  ‘You keep it. You look like you need it more than me.’

  William saw movement ahead and ducked. It couldn’t happen again, could it? He couldn’t take anymore. ‘Animal or human?’ he whispered.

  ‘Human, very much so,’ replied Merle, pulling William into a roadside ditch and cocking the head of the crossbow over its lip. William looked in the direction he had it aimed. A woman dressed in threadbare clothing stepped into a nearby road, pushing a packed cart.

  ‘Alms, alms, please come to me, I’m so alone,’ she mumbled as she pushed her cart along.

  William placed his hand over the crossbow and pushed it down. ‘She isn’t going to hurt us.’

  ‘She could be a Watcher,’ whispered Merle, shrugging William’s hand away.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘They watch the roads for potential targets for bandits. They get paid in, err, meat.’

  ‘But it looks like she needs help.’ William rose a little. ‘She doesn’t look like a bandit. Look at her!’

  ‘Don’t even think about it. Charity is a death sentence in these parts. We have to leave her.’

  William closed his eyes and pretended she wasn’t there. He couldn’t bear it. ‘We can’t leave her. She might get caught.’

  ‘Look at yourself; you’re in a similar condition to her. Your wounds need tending to and that will only be possible if we get to Stone Cross sooner, not later.’

  Taking a quick glimpse back at the woman, William closed his eyes and nodded. ‘OK,’ he whispered, exhaling.

  ‘A very sensible decision,’ replied Merle. ‘It’s a harsh world now and to survive you must learn to live with that fact.’

  ‘Let’s just get out of here, please.’

  Befo
re Merle could reply, a familiar mechanical burst sounded from close by. William looked above the lip of the ditch again. The woman had frozen in place.

  ‘Bandits?’

  ‘No, something else.’ Merle aimed his crossbow once more.

  A convoy of vehicles slithered into the square of collapsed brick homes. William couldn’t stop staring, eyes widening on the jagged cross roughly painted onto the vehicle’s metal work. Terrafall.

  The first black van stopped in front of the woman. She was still frozen, hands holding her cart tightly. A man dressed in an armoured body suit, blue cape trailing behind, stepped out of the vehicle. He approached the woman slowly.

  ‘What was your calling?’ he said, pulling out a baton.

  The woman didn’t respond, gripping her cart harder.

  William looked away for a second. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Looking for potential sacrifices, most likely,’ whispered Merle. ‘I suppose you could call it farming…’

  ‘Can we help her?’ asked William.

  ‘Not unless you want to die.’

  William shivered but looked back. The man was directly in front of the woman now, holding the baton above her head.

  ‘Answer me; your silence will only anger the tremors. They need to be fed. They need blood.’

  ‘I–I was a shopkeeper…’

  This seemed to confuse him. ‘You shall come with us to face the Cleric! He will determine whether you are worthy of the tremors.’

  ‘Leave me!’ cried the woman, her voice pathetically small. She staggered back, palm held up to the Enforcer. In a frantic move, she pulled a sharp piece of metal from her cart and began swinging it around hysterically.

  The man brought the baton down. William looked away before the impact. There was a brief scuffling sound, followed by slamming doors and explosions of exhaust fumes, and then only the soundless air remained. The stage was empty once again.

  Merle grabbed his shoulder. ‘Come lad, we’ll head for the houses over there, they’ll keep us hidden until we can be sure they’re gone,’ he whispered, hooking the crossbow over his shoulder. ‘Pray for her, it’s all you can do now.’

  They crept to the row of once-grand townhouses, sinking into the battered fields behind. Now that William had seen Terrafall in action, he realised how important it was to put a stop to their insane practices. They couldn’t go on tormenting survivors, forcing them into submission, into a ridiculous religion. Sacrifice wasn’t right, nobody should believe in it, let alone be forced into it. If Terrafall continued, society would fall into a pit of something he couldn’t or didn’t want to describe. He shuddered.

  They headed for the first house. It didn’t have a door, which wasn’t surprising. He stepped in, the usual damp smell filling his nostrils. He walked through the soggy corridors, able to easily pass through one house to the next.

  ‘Explore if you must. You may even find something useful,’ said Merle, heading off into the gloom to sit down and rest.

  William looked around. The rooms were filled with rubbish and most of the architectural character was lost. He carried on towards the first flight of stairs he came across. The first few steps were long gone, but he leapt over the missing slats to arrive safely on the first-floor landing.

  He tried to twist the place into a vision of the past; of what the house might’ve looked like, but he couldn’t.

  The room at the head of the corridor beckoned him. He walked through the door and was met with the lingering smell of lavender. An image of his mother came at once. He walked to the windowsill and took hold of the withered stalks. They crunched in his hands, crispy flakes drifting to the dank carpet.

  A cracked frame lay face down next to the stagnant vase. He picked it up. Four faces looked up at him. He cleaned off some dirt, righted the picture and carefully placed it back. Those faces were probably gone now, maybe to a better place, and hopefully together. He looked out of the window, and the horrible desolation from outside stared back at him.

  Walking over to the piano in the corner, William ran a finger across the yellow keys. One hit too hard, but the sound wasn’t too loud, and only lasted for a couple of seconds. The hammers had obviously been worn down by neglect and exposure to the elements, so the sounds would never leave the room. He smiled, feeling a surge of warmth wash over him.

  He hadn’t played since his angry burst in school, after he’d lost the journal. When he’d lived in the cottage he’d played every day.

  ‘I’ll give Dad one last song,’ he said, sitting down on the piano stool.

  The keys sank comfortably under his fingers as he applied pressure, and the quiet, melodic beat of hammers on string provided a satisfying melancholia. This could be the last song on Earth, and he the last composer. He never thought music could disappear, but with no one to make it and no one to listen, it really could be forgotten. He carried on building speed, applying greater pressure to the keys so the sound carried further, for longer. And then he sang…

  I’ve been hoping for something so unreal,

  A life that could never be.

  And now as the sun fades beyond the horizon,

  I’m lost and deep in my dreams.

  But now I’m not dreaming, I’m human, it’s real.

  A life that could never be.

  The final notes hung in the dark room, as if they knew they’d never be played again. William stepped away from the piano, and left with a newfound warmth circling his body.

  His father had taught him that song, right after he’d taught him the basics of the piano. He’d never really understood the lyrics before, but now their meaning was clear. Through the song, his father had been dreaming of a better world, just like he was now. Knowing this, brought him closer to his father, and he was proud they could still share something together.

  In his heart, William knew this whole journey was not only a mission to save his mother, but a tribute to his father as well, a way to finally come to terms with his death. That’s what keeping the journal was, too. By trying to fulfil his father’s mission, William had felt close to him, and through William, his legacy would live on. Of course, the journal couldn’t relieve the pain, only time could do that. He placed a hand over his heart. Time was the answer he’d been looking for.

  Time… something his mother didn’t have.

  ‘Did you discover anything?’ asked Merle, appearing at the bottom of the stairs as William climbed down them.

  ‘Yes,’ said William, looking to the floor. ‘Nothing you’d understand.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Merle studied him for a moment. ‘Here, have an apple. It’s more rot than fruit, but there’s some good bits, so just eat those, should give you some energy at least. Probably left by a Peace Enforcer.’

  William stared at the red and black orb and grimaced. He took a bite, avoiding the mould. He gagged, but forced the clump down.

  ‘Let’s get away from here now. I think the Enforcers have gone.’

  William followed Merle up the corridor, jumping into a doorway when a figure blocked his way then disappeared again as quickly as he did. He slowly peered out, seeing the figure copying his actions. ‘Oh, it’s me,’ he said, blushing as he saw Merle smirking.

  ‘It’s a mirror, you idiot,’ he said, vanishing around the next corner.

  William considered his reflection again, mouth falling open at the sight of the bruising on his face. Was that really him? His hair clung to his injured forehead, its usual light brown colour matted and red. His dark trousers and grey jumper were decorated with holes from landing against that fence, holes that had begun to fray in places.

  He’d not really thought about how bad the fall from the tracks had been, until now. The first thing that came to mind was a zombie… He put a hand up to the mirror, but quickly drew it back and followed Merle out of the terraced house. He could worry about his appearance later. He traipsed back into the gloom of Gravenshard, and before long, they were out of the town, leaving its broken remai
ns behind them.

  They spent the next couple of hours slogging through the upturned farmland. As they edged into flatter fields, patches of green began to appear. They were only small tufts of grass, but their colour was unmistakable. William knelt down and placed a hand amongst some of the tiny blades. It was brittle, but definitely alive.

  He stood up feeling his bones creak in pain, and looked across the patchwork quilt. It seemed to go on forever. But the small signs of life gave him hope, and made him quicken his pace.

  ‘So what did you do before the war? Did you live in Haven’s Hollow?’ he asked Merle as he caught up with him once more.

  ‘I’ve worked at the animal sanctuary in the valley since I can remember. It’s been in my family for many years,’ replied Merle, staring stoically ahead. ‘I suppose that’s why I’m so scared of Haven being destroyed. The sanctuary is my only link to what once was, even if it is now more farm than sanctuary.’

  ‘Oh… I thought you were just being selfish,’ said William. Maybe this guy had a nice side after all.

  ‘I suppose I am selfish when the things I love are threatened. Exactly how you’re behaving now, I suppose,’ said Merle, gripping his ribs.

  ‘We can relate then,’ said William, shrugging a shoulder.

  Merle grunted, grip tightening on his middle.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked William, frowning.

  ‘Yes, I injured myself when I escaped the bandit camp, it plays up sometimes.’ He pointed. ‘Look, we’re close. That road leading into the forest should take us right to Stone Cross!’

  They moved quickly across the countryside that separated them from the forest. As they entered the trees, William looked up. It was as if a spoonful of coffee was slowly being stirred into the sky. The darkness bleeding across the horizon made him tremble.

  ‘I think we’ve got trouble, could be bandits or Enforcers…’ said William, pointing to a pirouette of smoke rising in the distance. Was it a camp, so close to Stone Cross? Could it be an Enforcer camp? He didn’t want to think about it.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Merle. He paused and looked around, then crouched down and felt the earth. ‘Footprints. Fresh ones. I think we’re being tracked…’