“Yes, that surprises you. It surprised me, too, when I realized it. But think about it. We can’t rebuild yet. We can’t rebuild until we have something to build on. Do you see?”
But his speech began to slow now, even as his emotions rose. She wondered how long he could go on.
“We can’t rebuild,” he continued, “until we have something to build on. What use trying to put something together when those things out there are waiting to take it apart? No, we’ve got to take it back first.”
His gaze had drifted as he spoke, but now he looked into her eyes again.
“You’ve got to take it back. You and Beast, Bait and the Mule. Even the dog. And there have got to be others out there, too. You’re fighters and you’ve got work to do. Take our world back. Drive the monsters back to wherever they came from. Reclaim what we once had. Then, then… then it will be time to rebuild. But first you must fight. First you have to take it back.”
He coughed twice more, blood arcing from his lips. She could see the pain etched in his features, but he was too weak even to protest.
“Now,” he wheezed—his voice was getting weaker, “pick me up. Take me upstairs. Patch me up.”
“It will only hurt you,” she said. “Bandages won’t save you.”
“No. No, do it. Come on, help me. Help me.” He was almost whispering now as he pled his case.
“You will not survive this,” she said.
His arms stopped their ineffectual movement. He took a moment to gather the strength to reply. “I… I know.” He paused again. “It’s just…”
His eyes closed for a moment and she thought maybe he was slipping away, but then they opened again.
“I’m afraid,” he wheezed.
“She understands,” she said. Her knife was still in her hand. Swiftly, she moved it to his throat. His eyes widened, but before he could draw the strength to voice any protests, she dragged the blade across his throat, pressing down and cutting deeply.
5
There was surprisingly little blood. She had expected it to spurt in the rhythm of his heartbeat, or to flow thickly down his chest, but it merely oozed out of the cut, pooling on the already bloody floor beneath him. Maybe it was because so much of his blood had already left his body.
He blinked at her twice, hunching his shoulders and curling his arms as if beginning to rise from the ground, but then he subsided. As his body relaxed, his eyes slipped from hers, to gaze off into some distance none of the others could perceive. His body hitched a few, last gurgling breaths but she could see from his empty gaze that he was no longer present.
She stood, turning away from the body.
Behind her, she saw the others. They had risen, and stood now in a mute semicircle, even the dog, looking alternately at her, at the Professor’s body and at the dripping knife in her hand. Nobody spoke.
They looked at her and she looked back at them for a long time—maybe a minute or even two—silent, watching, thinking, waiting. It was clear to her that they were unnerved by what she had done, but couldn’t see a better path either. She had no apologies to make. Now they all felt that this moment would be a turning point, and they all were waiting direction.
“It is time to leave,” she said. “Today, pack your things, gather provisions, and sharpen your weapons. Tomorrow she walks away from here.”
“Where are we going?” asked the Mule.
“She will continue east,” she answered.
“And why?” challenged Beast. She could see he was still challenging what their purpose was—would they hide, or fight?
For her, the decision had been made.
“If you need a purpose, what better one that to fight back? None of you know for certain if this is happening only here in this little corner of Oregon or if humans are being wiped off the face of the earth. But these creatures have killed everyone you knew and destroyed everything you once had.
“So now she will fight back. If it is just here, or if it is across the whole world—if these are aliens, demons, mutants from a lab, or something none of you have imagined yet, the course is plain. She will fight.”
She didn’t tell the others about the rest of the Professor’s plan. That was too far off, too nebulous a goal. It was something to think about in the future. For now, she would fight.
“She has told you since you chose to follow that there is no plan, and you will most likely die. You still will most likely die, and so will she. But she will fight before dying. That is the plan: to fight before dying. And if you come with her, it must be to fight alongside her.”
Still they all looked at her. “So will you fight?” she asked.
“You know I will,” said Beast.
“Of course,” huffed the Mule, looking insulted. She didn’t know why he was taking offense, until Bait spoke up.
“Shit, girl, you don’t have to ask him,” said Bait with a grin. “He’ll follow you anywhere.”
The Mule looked at Bait angrily, and then at the ground, but said nothing.
“And I’ll come along,” continued Bait. “Nothing else better to do, is there?”
She didn’t understand Bait’s teasing, or the Mule’s anger, but it was enough to know that it was decided. The group was hers now and there was no turning back. She would lead them. They would go out into the world, and they would hunt the creatures that had been hunting them.
She would lead them and she would fight with them but, she promised herself, she would not care about them.
She limped away from the rest of the group without another word, intent on preparing herself for tomorrow. The others would get themselves ready.
The dog followed at her heels. The dog’s decision had never been in doubt.
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death,
And Hell followed with him.[21]
Thanks!
Thank you for taking the time to learn about Coyote and her companions. Coyote’s tale will continue in Volume 2 of the Tales of Coyote: The Dead Half, coming soon.
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I’d love to hear from you!
Thanks for the gift of your time. I hope you enjoyed the story.
--David L. Foster
About the Author
David L. Foster is the author of over thirty New York Times bestsellers, including…
Wait, no. That’s somebody else. My ego is smaller than that opening statement, and so are my accomplishments. I’m a pretty average person with a day job and a family, a house and a dog, living in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon.
Everyone has something that makes them a little bit unique, though, right? For me, it’s my obsession with books. I read one or two books each week, reading while drifting off to sleep, while eating lunch, while waiting in the parking lot for the kids to come out of school… you know—a lot.
Not only does this make for a pricey habit, buying all these books, but it leaves me thinking about characters and stories all the time. Some of these characters and stories even get written down.
So that’s me: a guy with a bit of a book obsession who likes to write stories. And just by the fact that you’re here, reading this, I'm guessing that you like to read stories. Maybe we can help each other out.
* * *
[1] Biographical parallelism: The practice of taking the autobiographical writings of two independent authors who have written on the same experience, locale, or time frame, and combining those writings into one volume, thereby presenting the reader with two independent perspectives on the same events.
[2] T
hese are, indeed, the first words in the author’s original account. Though the quote seems to be taken directly from the Bible (Revelations, 6:1-2), a common reference in North American writings of this time period, previous researchers have also credited it to a person named Johnny Cash. Most evidence suggests this excerpt from the bible was also used in a song by an entertainer named Johnny Cash. Since records of that era are largely lost to us now, this is impossible to verify with any certainty.
[3] To give the reader context, it should be noted that Coyote wrote this narrative at a later date, several years after the Fall, allowing her the perspective to consider events in hindsight.
[4] The general neighborhood that her home stood in is easily identified through the author’s description. However, the exact location of the home itself has been hotly debated for years, with no true resolution. The complete lack of personal records, housing records, and even a proper name for the author has stymied all efforts to settle the matter.
[5] It is interesting to note that the actual story is not included here. Hence, the inclusion of the relevant diary entry at this point. Most scholars believe this to be a telling insight into the author’s personality. If she wasn’t interested in the lives and histories of those around her, especially in those early days, she most likely wouldn’t have paid much attention to the stories they told. And when it came time to put her memories in writing, the details were lost to her.
[6] A real town, the ruins of which can still be visited today.
[7] Historians have ample evidence that a Safeway was what people in the Western coastal regions of North America before the Fall called a large grocery store. They also sometimes called it an Albertsons or a New Seasons. Historians have mixed opinions on what a Bi-Mart was, only agreeing at the most basic level that it was some kind of store, though apparently not a very popular one.
[8] IT is curious that the Mule mentions the group’s habit of adopting new monikers instead of using the names of the old world, but delays thinking more deeply about what it means. Psychologically, going by a new name must be considered a radical change, yet all the members of the group seem to have accepted the practice without question or complaint.
[9] Historical records indicate that there were several medical centers going by the name “Kaiser.” One can only assume that it was one close to where she originally met the group.
[10] A moderately-sized metropolitan area, the town largely existed through a combination of local farming and money brought in by tourists headed to Mount Hood for recreation. Completely depopulated (like most cities and towns) during the Fall, it has largely rebuilt itself since as a tourist destination, claiming to be an historically accurate model of the town before the Fall, and taking its authenticity so seriously that residents even wear period costumes. Historians have taken issue with many of the details, but cannot fault the town’s claim to be one of the few places Coyote and her group verifiably visited.
[11] The language she speaks to the dog has been identified as a former European dialect called Czech, so most historians have assumed that she was originally born in a pre-Fall country called the Czech Republic, or perhaps in Czech immigrant communities that were known to exist in nearby countries. Most of what used to be termed Western and Eastern Europe is a part of the European Wastes today, and since humans cannot survive there, no significant research into historical records of her birth has been possible.
[12] Although historical records and various archaeological studies indicate there were several established campgrounds along this route, there is not enough indication here in the text to discern which campground, specifically, the group visited.
[13] It is at this point that the reader will often remark that the publisher seems to have made a mistake in numbering this chapter. This is labeled as chapter five, though the previous chapter was labeled as chapter six. Readers will then become even more confused in later chapters, whose numbering seems to have nothing to do with the order of the chapters. However, I assure you, there has been no mistake.
The chapters are presented as originally numbered by the author, Coyote. It is believed that she numbered them quite intentionally. They are not numbered in order. Instead, they seem to have been “named” with a number. Most people, including myself, ascribe to the theory that the numbers represent the number of people (including the dog) that were in the group. Why the author did things this way is one of any number of questions scholars would love to ask her, if only they could. My own feeling is that this odd numbering is a window into what was important in the author’s mind. Contrary to the message that many of her actions send, I believe that the people with Coyote were important—perhaps the most important part of the story.
[14] Research done by several capable people suggests that there was, indeed, a very small town on the shoulder of Mount Hood with the improbable name of Zigzag.
[15] Here we note that even the Mule, for whom we have probably the most private insight into his thoughts, does not delve into the details of what happened during the Fall. In fact, he actively avoids talking about it. It has been well documented in other accounts and research that in the immediate aftermath of the Fall, survivors were almost never comfortable relating what they had gone through—a phenomenon that seems to have permeated the human race.
[16] Although this town sounds like it was a bigger one than the town the group spent the previous night in, no historical record has yet been found to verify its existence or exact location. It is an interesting example of the vagaries of historical research. Often, what should be there is not, and what is less probable can be found.
[17] At the time of the Fall, some estimates claim that up to half of the restaurants in North America were what was termed chain restaurants. These were restaurants set up in various locations around the country that had the exact same menu items, and often were even looked exactly the same. The prevailing theory was that customers were attracted to restaurants that were familiar, more than to restaurants that served appealing food. The restaurant chain Dairy Queen was largely known for serving ice cream and other desserts, though one could buy assorted lunch items as well.
[18] Though the sport of American Football is practiced now only as a novel bit of antiquity, it was perhaps the dominant sport in pre-Fall North America. A football field was exactly one hundred yards long, the equivalent of ninety-one meters.
[19] The film mentioned, The Shining, is noted in a few other oral histories of the pre-Fall times, and was said to be a horror movie, old even before the Fall. Relatively tame by current standards, it still was a major success in its time.
[20] It’s astounding how many of the writings by survivors of the Fall reflect this sentiment or one very similar to it. On the one hand, people express sadness at the loss of all they had known, but at the same time they feel as if there is purpose or meaning in their lives after the Fall that they never had beforehand. Both the authors of these thoughts and the readers struggle with how to feel about this. On the one hand, we must mourn the loss of millions of lives, with almost every human being separated from their loved ones and from all they had known before. On the other hand, those that wrote of their lives afterward often felt more whole, even though the world they lived in had been scattered in a thousand pieces.
[21] Taken from the Bible (Revelations, Chapter 6:8). The fact that this quote and the one that begins this volume are the only references to organized religion in Coyote’s account has been the subject of much discussion among scholars.
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