Awaken

by Bryan, Michelle

  “May the gods show you mercy and grant you peace.”

  I stay just long enough to make sure the fire catches. I throw the torch into the flames. The moon will be bright enough for walking and a lit flame out in the sand lands would just draw unwanted attention, from what I ain’t sure but don’t want to take no chances. Waiting for morning was not an option. There is no way in dirt dog hell I am gonna stay another night in this place of death.

  I pick up my slingbag, heave my bow and quiver over my shoulder and start walking. East, along the riverbank like gra’da had told me to do. I ain’t ever heard of Littlepass but if he said I’d best go there then that’s what I do. If I’m gonna stand a chance of finding Ben and the others then I’m going to need help. Lily, he had said. Find a healer named Lily. How hard could it be?

  I keep walking, a steady pace, one foot in front of the other. I don’t look back. I ain’t ever coming back. Ben was right all along. Rivercross was dead. Time to go elsewhere.

  The Sand Lands

  Mid-afternoon, eight days into the sand lands. Eight days of nuthin but sand and wind and the burning cruel sun. Eight days of nuthin to distract me from the awful thoughts running through my head. Replaying the deaths of my kin over and over again, wondering if there was something…anything I could have done to save them. Worrying about Ben and the young’uns. If they were okay. If I was ever going to see ‘em again. If they were even still alive. Sometimes the despair is so overwhelming that I don’t want to take another step. Just wanna lay down, right where I’m standing, let the vultures have at me. But I don’t. I keep moving. I keep walking the flat, desolate lands. Sometimes I come across the occasional husk of a settler’s ruin but I don’t bother to look in them. They’re nuthin but skeletons already picked clean long ago by scavengers. I ain’t seen another living soul.

  I stop only long enough to sleep, praying to the gods for an evening of rest free from the night terrors, but they come every night. Every night I see their faces, hear their screams. Some nights the metal monsters in my dreams have teeth and they eat up every soul in front of me, even Ben. I hear their bones crunching from the metal jaws and I wake myself up with my cries, my face wet with tears. I lay there shivering, afraid, listening to the howling of a lone devil cat or wolfling off in the distance, and sleep don’t come no more. So I walk.

  It’s taking a toll on me, all the walking. Yesterday I had to cut the tail offa my tunic, use it to wrap my feet, they were cut up real bad. The wrappings helped though, my feet ain’t hurting so bad today. And my head weren’t hurting no more either, it had healed up real nice. Even the cut had closed up, not even a scab. I always was a real fast healer.

  I keep walking.

  Mid-morning, twelve days into the sand lands. Least I suspect it’s been that long, I’m losing track I think. This is my second day of traveling on no sleep. I made camp last evening but just as I was settling down I heard a noise coming from the other side of the boulder I was camped under. I snuck a peek, real slow like so as not to make any sound. The moon had been bright enough for me to make out a shadow, a shape about 10 or12 paces from where I was set up. Cain’t rightly say if it were human or critter though it appeared to be walking on two legs, all hunched over and shuffling it’s feet. My heart was beating so loud I figured for sure the thing would of heard it, and it did pause for a bit, but thankfully it moved on, heading gods only knew where in the empty wastelands. I waited for a time, wanting to make sure it was well gone before I packed up and moved out. I didn’t know if it were a mutie or raider or such but I knew I didn’t want to run into it. And I surely wasn’t sleeping any tonight. So I walked….again. I walked ‘til the sun came up. Only then did I stop to rest.

  The food I had brought with me is all but gone and one of the water skins is bone dry. The other is half empty, even with my rationing. I had come across watering holes along the way but they had either been dried up or gone foul. I keep checking the riverbed hoping for one of the flash floods of water the old folk would talk about but it’s as dry as always, the bottom of it nuthin but baked, cracked mud. Another story I no longer believe in.

  I was going to have to hunt soon, I think. It would slow me down some but I got to eat. I had seen the occasional wild bird and crow, ain’t spotted any dirt dog but no matter. I had left my snare wires back in Rivercross and dirt dog was almost impossible to catch with an arrow. They never stuck their heads out of their burrows long enough to get a good target on them. No, food wasn’t going to be a problem, but water, that was worrying me some.

  Day fifteen…high noon. The land I’m walking on is changing. I’ve been noticing it for a day or so now. The empty, hard baked ground I was used to seeing is turning to scraggly grasslands and sloping hills way off in the hazy distance. I can even see what I believe to be a tree line on the horizon. A good sign. Where there are trees growing, there’s water. Just in time too, I reckon the water I have left won’t last the day. I stare at the tree line trying to work out in my head how long a walk it’ll take me but I ain’t sure, my thinking is getting a bit muddled. I need to drink more water soon, I know that for certain.

  Out of nowhere a flash of light hits my eyes nearly blinding me. What the hell? I squint into the light and slowly realize it’s the sun hitting something off in the distance to my left and reflecting it back to me. Is that…? No….cain’t be! But it is sure enough…shanties, about half a league from where I’m standing. Between the blowing dust and heat shimmers I ain’t noticed ‘em before. Right away I start heading for them, the only thoughts in my head being of water…food…people! But I don’t get no more than five paces when my mind goes clear again. What if I find something there I don’t want to find? Like muties? Or raiders? I hesitate. Then again maybe it’s just normal people like me, with fresh water and maybe even a bed for me to sleep in for a night. Shizen, the thought of sleeping in a soft bed instead of on the hard ground crawling with sand biters… well I figure it’s worth taking the risk. Decision made I head for the shanties.

  I approach them slowly. I don’t see or hear nuthin but I keep my eyes open for any movement, for any sign of something not right. If it was muties or raiders living here then they probably won’t come out greeting me with smiles, I’m thinking.

  There are three shanties in all, facing each other in a kind of triangle formation. They look a mite different then the shanties of Rivercross, these are mostly built of wood. Comes from living so close to a tree line, I reckon. But they still have the tin roofs and doors I’m used to seeing. Two of the doors are torn off and the third is just hanging by a hinge, swaying in the breeze. I stop walking…look around. It’s real quiet. The silence spooks me. It reminds me of the ghost villages from Thomas’ scare stories. I take a couple of steps toward the closest shanty, the rocks crunching under my boots the only sound in the dead calm. I take a quick look in through the doorless entry but I don’t go inside. I keep my attention on my surroundings. I don’t want nuthin creeping up on me.

  The shanty is just a small one roomed building and it don’t take me long to see it’s empty. The place is tore up though, belongings scattered everywhere. Somebody had searched it for sure but it ain’t been scavenged, or set aflame. Strange. I find the next two shanties in the same condition, both of them empty as well. Where are the people who live here, I think. What happened to them? I stand in the middle of the three buildings looking around, curious. I spot a well on a little rise just past one of them and my curiosity is quickly replaced by one single thought. Water! Hoping in my heart that the water ain’t foul I head for it.

  The wooden cover has been knocked off and is laying on the ground in pieces but the rope and bucket seem undamaged. I lower the bucket down, hear the splash, pull it back up. Please, please, please let it be drinkable!

  I peer into the bucket. Looks clean enough. Don’t smell foul. I taste it and smile for the first time in weeks, causing my parched lips to crack open and bleed. It tastes like gods brew! I want to drink ‘til
I burst but I know if I do that I’m just going to retch it back up, so I take my time, sip it slow. I drink my fill, the cool liquid easing my dry throat. Finally, my thirst quenched, I take off my hat and pour the rest of the water over my head, not even caring that it’s soaking my clothes. It feels real good and I know I’ll dry quick enough in the heat of the day. I lay down my slingbag and bow, ease my shoulder. Reckon I may as well take a rest, fill my waterskins. The place appears harmless enough. I’m busy looking through my slingbag for the second waterskin when I hear it. A low, deep, guttural growling. I freeze. Slowly I raise my head and my hand instantly moves for the knife strapped at my thigh. I’m staring into a pair of blood red eyes no more than five paces from where I stand. A devil cat!

  My heart starts beating out of my chest and I can taste the bile in the back of my throat. I’m gonna get eaten alive, I think, as I stare at the beast. I ain’t ever seen one up so close…not a live one anyways. The creature is huge! Sweat beads my upper lip as we keep eying each other. I’m afraid to break the contact least the beast takes it as a sign of weakness and attacks. By now I’m holding the big knife out in front of me….holding on so tight my knuckles turn white. The beast growls again, showing me its dagger sharp teeth, its pointy ears flattened against its broad head.

  It still don’t make a move. Neither do I. The hand holding the knife is so slick with sweat I’m afraid I’m going to lose my grip on it. Finally I cain’t take it no more.

  “Gods dammit, whadda you waiting for!”

  It’s either scream at it or black out. It moves then and I tense, expecting any moment to feel the sharp claws tearing through my skin, ripping it off of my bones. It moves at me…..and sits down on its haunches! It keeps staring me down but it don’t attack!

  “It’s okay…she ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  The voice makes me jump, my nerves already wound tight from the stare down with the devil cat. The cat goes back on all fours at my movement, eyeballing me again.

  “Cat! Down girl.”

  A young boy, no more than 12 born years to be sure, walks up to the massive black beast. He goes right up to it and unbelievably starts rubbing its head! And if that wasn’t strange enough, this beast, this killing machine from the campfire spook stories, just falls to the ground and rolls over so the boy can scratch its underbelly! I can only stare in disbelief!

  “You can put your knife away,” he says.

  Didn’t even realize I was still holding it out in front of me. I hesitate…look from the knife to the devil cat, then put it back in its sheath. I reckon if the beast was going to eat me it would have done so by now. The boy continues to scratch the animals belly but his eyes don’t leave my face. He’s on the losing side of scrawny with unkempt matted red hair hanging to his shoulders and a smattering of freckles cross his nose and cheeks. Least I think its freckles, could be just dirt. He don’t look like he’s had a proper washin’ in months. Or a decent meal for that matter. His tunic and trousers are mud caked and hanging from his tiny frame like they weren’t even his. I’m thinking that I must look just as strange to him with my own clothes so dirty they could probably stand on their own and my wet hair hanging in strings about my face. We stand in silence for a bit just sizing each other up. Finally, my curiosity gets the better of me and I nod at the beast.

  “How come it lets you do that and don’t bite your hand off?” I say.

  He smiles then, a big ol’ gap toothed grin, and scratches the beasts belly even harder and I swear the critter actually starts to purr.

  “I reared Cat since she was a cub, going on four years now. She would never hurt me.”

  “You reared up a devil cat?” I say, still not believing what I’m seeing.

  “Already told you that,” he says.

  “And you named it Cat?”

  “Aye, was a fittin’ name as any,” he says.

  Cain’t argue that.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  He stops scratching and the black beast nimbly gets to its feet. It’s just as tall as the boy, could probably snap him in half in one bite if it had a mind to. I still cain’t help but be terrified by it.

  “Finn,” he says.

  “Nice to meet you Finn….I’m Tara…of Rivercross.” I look around. “What’s the name of this place?”

  He looks at me strangely.

  “Ain’t got no name.... just the homestead I guess. At least that’s all ma and pa ever called it,” he says

  “Oh,” I say. “And where is your ma and pa?”

  I regret asking right away. His face gets all scrunched up like he’s trying real hard not to cry. I watch him struggle, but he’s tough…the tears don’t come.

  “Dead,” he finally says, but his voice is quivering. “‘Bout four weeks now since the monsters on wheels came and killed ‘em…all of ‘em. I buried ‘em over yonder.”

  He points with his chin out past the rise we’re standing on. I can see disturbed ground marked by cairns. There are five of them from what I can tell. I can feel that familiar pain blossoming in my chest.

  “I’m real sorry,” I say quietly. “They came to Rivercross and killed my kin too.”

  He nods as if talking about your dead kin was normal conversation. We both fall quiet for a bit, each lost in our own painful memories. Then a thought strikes me.

  “How you bury ‘em by yourself?” He wasn’t no bigger than a twig! He shrugs his skinny shoulders at me.

  “I done the digging and Cat helped me…move ‘em. She’s real smart…does what I tell her to,” he says. About two weeks ago I would have thought that to be real strange. But between the metal monsters on wheels and a tame devil cat…well I reckon anything could be possible. Ben would be tickled pink by my new beliefs.

  The beast, Cat, is getting restless now and starts moving towards me, its head level with my chest. It gets so close I can see the dirt stuck in its black matted fur and feel the heat rising off of it. It starts sniffing my hand, its nose is cold and wet. It keeps sniffing, moving up my arm, my neck. I’m too terrified to move! I watch, frozen, as a long blue tongue escapes from its mouth and slowly licks my face, leaving a slimy trail cross my cheek, my lips.

  Shizen! It’s gonna eat me, I think. I look to the boy, my eyes pleading for help but he’s just laughing his fool head off.

  “I think she likes you!” he says, bent over with laughter.

  “Call…her…off…please!” I say through clenched lips. I don’t want to open my mouth for fear that blue tongue will find its way inside. He’s still laughing but calls her name and she backs off.

  Right away I start wiping my face with my sleeve. Ugh! Disgusting!

  “Don’t worry, Cat don’t eat people,” he says as if he was reading my mind. The beast is now back sitting meekly at his side licking its paws and cleaning its whiskers like it were just some tame village cat and not a killing machine. I keep eyeballing it…I don’t trust it.

  “Well excepting for the bad man from the metal monsters. She caught him before he could escape back into his machine. They rest of ‘em, they got away but he never. Aye, she caught him and ate him up real good. There weren’t nuthin’ left except his weapon and boots.”

  Finn sounds pleased as anything by this but it makes my stomach heave and I scrub my face even harder! Ugh! The boy don’t seem to notice my disgust.

  “I kept his weapon, but I never seen nuthin like it before. I ain’t got no idea what it is. You wanna see it?” he asks.

  I wipe the remaining foul traces of the cat’s slobber off my face before I shrug…why not? I was real surprised at hearing from the boy that there were actual men in those metal monsters. Maybe seeing this weapon will help me understand better what they are. He grins at my acceptance and scurries off to the shanty with the hanging door. I follow behind, making sure to keep distance between me and the beast. I cain’t help but feel it’s going to pounce on me when I least expect it.

  The shanty is still the same as when I first inspe
cted it but now I notice the signs of the boy living here. The wood stacked in the hearth ready for the evening fire, the full water jug and cooking pot. I should have seen all that earlier, I think. I was going to have to pay attention from now on so as not to get caught unawares again. I might not be as lucky the next time.

  The boy goes to the wood chest at the foot of the only bed in the one roomed shanty. He opens it and pulls out a long metal and wood object and I know it right away. An iron shooter. He turns and starts waving it at me and my heart jumps into my throat!

  “Shizen! Give me that!” I say and yank it out of his hand before he can shoot it at me. “You gotta be careful with these things boy…don’t you know anything?”

  “What is it?” he asks, ignoring my harsh words.

  “It’s called an iron shooter,” I say, looking it over. It’s in much better shape than gra’das. It was oiled up real nice and not a bit of rust on it. I check to see if there are any slugs and sure enough it’s missing just one.

  “See here, these are lead slugs…they’re what come out of the shooter and does gods awful damage to critters…and people.”

  He nods, solemnly. “Aye, I seen what it done…to my ma and pa and the others.”

  His eyes drop down to stare at the floor and I can feel his pain in my own heart. Judging from my past couple of weeks I reckon Finn’s had his share of night terrors too.

  “So the man you said Cat killed…you sure it was a real man? For sure?”

  He nods at my question. “I seen ‘em, they were men all right. Was only luck me and Cat weren’t here when they showed. We were out exploring. I heard what I figured to be a storm coming. Next thing I hear yelling and…well funny popping sounds. Cat knew something was wrong, she started hightailing it back here. I ran after her… I did! But then I saw the metal monsters…and I …”

  He goes real quiet and hangs his head ashamedly. “I hid. I could see my pa and Unk fighting ‘em…ma, she was screaming. I wanted to help! I did…but...”