A narrow metal pipe ran below close enough for her to get her toes on and take her weight off her aching fingers. After catching her breath, she sank into a dangling squat off the bottom of the metal cabinet, then stretched one foot to a fat but short pipe, leaned to the right to grab a windowsill, and made her way down via a series of holes, wire conduits, and one more jutting beam. When the ground got close enough to jump, she pushed away from the wall to avoid clipping any protruding wooden spikes or pipe fragments, and fell into tumble upon landing.
Flat on her back and surrounded by weeds, she stared up at the churning clouds overhead, breathing hard. After a moment, she held her hands up to examine her throbbing fingers. They hurt, but fortunately, she hadn’t cut herself. No bleeding. Kiera sat up and brushed dirt off her stomach. A quick check of her body found no splinters or scratches.
The plant life didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before, as though some mad scientist had crossbred rose bushes with ivy. Most of the twisty vines sported one-inch spikes. Still, she’d made it to the ground without breaking her neck.
“Okay… that wasn’t too bad… but I shouldn’t stay here. Those dogs might come back.”
Kiera scrambled to her feet and looked around. Climbing out the first-story window facing the street appealed more than a naked march through thorny vines that came up to her waist. She made easy work of jumping the windowsill, then darted across the street back to the telephone pole as fast and quiet as possible to retrieve her water and snack cakes.
The dogs didn’t eat them… does that mean they’re bad? She shrugged. They didn’t taste bad. Maybe they couldn’t smell them through the plastic.
Not wanting to even see those dogs again, Kiera took off running in the direction she’d been going and left the tiny island of ruins behind for open desert. She kept sprinting until her lungs caught fire—or at least felt like they did. After stumbling into a channel between dunes, she flopped on the ground and fanned herself. Another water bottle went fast, leaving her three. Hunger overpowered restraint, and she scarfed down her last two Devil Dogs.
Kiera rested for a few minutes, flat on her back in the soft silt, swishing her feet side to side, amazed at how comfortable a bed the ground made. This powdery stuff wasn’t exactly sand. Eventually, she got back on her feet and walked for hours, wondering if those tribespeople in Mr. Powers’ video felt as ridiculous as she did for walking around without any clothes.
I guess it’s all they knew, so they couldn’t be embarrassed.
Eventually, her stomach announced hunger with a rather loud grumble. She guessed it close to six in the evening due to the dimming light, and nursed another water bottle while trudging onward, hoping her two remaining ones would be enough to allow her to reach help.
Not long after she tossed the empty aside, smoke trails came into view up ahead where the ground became hilly and rocky. A handful of cactuses grew scattered around the area, and beyond that, the shapes of strange buildings dotted the ground in front of a stretch of pine trees. They didn’t look like any sort of building she’d ever seen before, put together from pieces of trailers, scrap metal, and wood. Almost nothing had straight edges, evidence of past corrosion eating the materials away.
The village!
She jogged closer, keeping to the low areas between dunes in the windblown silt until the sounds of voices ahead confirmed the presence of people. At the outskirts of the village, she climbed to the top of a hill and dropped to a crawl, scurrying up to hide behind a giant boulder. For a few minutes, she couldn’t bring herself to move, too embarrassed to let anyone see her. At another growl from her stomach, she let out a resigned sigh and leaned around the side to peer down the hill.
The village contained a few tents as well as trailers and scrap homes. Near the center, a large building made of cinder blocks had ‘TRADE’ painted on the front in huge red letters. A bent sign near it read ‘Exxo,’ but she recognized it as a damaged Exxon gas station. Whoever lived there now had added to the garage and turned it into a store of some kind. Various men, women, and children roamed about. About half of them wore cloth garments, many decorated with odd things like computer chips, hexagonal nuts, coins, and the like—anything shiny. Most of the men went shirtless, a few having skirts or pants that appeared to be black dog fur or another type of leather with reddish-brown hair.
Nervousness gripped her at the idea of strolling into town with no clothes. Her stomach demanded food, and the promise of no longer being alone made her shake with anxiety. She debated sneaking in and trying to steal food, but after another few minutes of watching the townspeople act so normal, she developed some hope that they would help her instead of trying to sell her.
I gotta do this. Come on. Those rain forest people weren’t embarrassed. I’m not in the modern world anymore. We’ve gone back to living in tribes. Old rules don’t matter. Some of those women don’t have tops on, and no one is staring at them… Maybe they don’t care. Her cheeks warmed. I’m blushing so hard. She fanned herself. Okay. I can do this. I’m gonna die if I don’t get help.
Kiera swallowed her embarrassment and forced herself to stand. Hands clutched into fists at her sides, she walked around the boulder and followed a dirt trail down the hill toward the heart of the village.
Please let me find someone nice.
13
Exxo
A man in tire sandals, a dog-fur loincloth, and a leather headband pulled a wagon made from the rear end of a rusty pickup truck. He glanced casually at Kiera as she went by, no more shocked by her presence than if she’d passed the janitor at school in the hallway. She managed a weak smile, but he kept going before she could work up the nerve to speak.
An old woman in a cloth poncho glanced curiously at her from beneath a porch of corrugated metal, but made no move to approach. Two younger women, Mom’s age, went by, both in thin, beige cloth dresses, barefoot. They gave her cursory glances, but didn’t stop to talk.
She spotted a few villagers here and there who also had no clothes, but only tiny children no older than three. Everyone past toddler age had at least a loincloth. Not like they make diapers anymore. Come to think of it, aside from those dogs, she hadn’t seen any wildlife―nothing to make leather from.
She drifted deeper into the village, gazing around at people. The vast majority wore scavenged things like Legacy’s skirt of metal, bits of plastic, or even circuit boards. One man had shorts made from an old US flag. Unable to stop blushing, she held her chin up and forced herself to keep going. Everyone’s utter lack of reaction to her state of dress helped calm her somewhat after a couple minutes. She debated approaching one or two people who looked the friendliest, but no one held eye contact long enough for her to get up the nerve.
Eventually, her fear of being made fun of or getting in trouble lessened enough for the trembling to stop. She continued walking among the huts, but no one paid her much mind at all. While she no longer shivered, being confident enough to speak hadn’t happened yet. Every time she almost made eye contact with an adult, she flinched away, managed a weak smile, and kept on creeping forward.
Whirring machinery near the middle of the village attracted her to a contraption that looked a bit like a fountain standing under a massive umbrella of purple fabric stretched out over metal pipes. The cube-shaped heart of the machine perched above a basin with two spigots leaking feeble streams of water into the pool. A tall column of thin black mesh rose three times her height from the center with most of its length up past the ‘umbrella.’ Inside the column, a dangerous looking set of sharp, rotating vanes swirled in the wind. Water droplets crawled down the mesh, inching toward the collector at the bottom.
Two boys, one about her age with black hair and brown skin, the other only about seven with blond hair and a deep tan, filled buckets. The older boy had a scrap of white cloth tied around his waist and through his legs like a tiny sumo wrestler, while the younger wore a dog-fur loincloth so wide on him the front and back pieces touched, making it a
skirt.
Kiera froze, bracing for mockery.
They looked at her with curiosity, neither showing any trace of amusement, surprise, or alarm at her lack of clothes. She inched up to the fountain while looking around, waiting for someone to chase her away, but no one did.
Kiera set her two remaining bottles on the ground at her feet, stooped forward, and cupped water in her hands. It tasted clean, so she drank several handfuls. The boys collected their filled pails and walked off without saying a word, though the smaller one kept smiling back at her.
Adults strolled by giving her curious glances, but each time someone got close, she blushed and bowed her head, too ashamed to try talking to them.
Come on. They don’t care. They’re tribal. It’s not a big deal. Grow a spine. Oh, this is so weird. Not having people running straight up to her to either make fun of her, yell at her, or worried to death that something bad happened felt surreal. Then again, people spending time outside at all, not simply sprinting between pockets of air conditioning, felt odd too. This village had no power lines, so she doubted air conditioning existed anymore.
“Well, it is February, so it’s only like ninety degrees. What do they do in the summer?”
She turned on her heel and marched up to the giant cinder block building marked ‘TRADE’ in painted letters. Leather strips formed a curtain in the doorway. She stuck her hands between two, brushing the scraps aside while stepping into a room that made her feel like she’d found the standard town merchant from every fantasy video game she’d ever played. If the guy had swords and hammers on the walls, it would’ve been perfect. Most of the stuff appeared to be scavenged junk. Pots, pans, plates, forks and knives, a couple pairs of handmade boots far, far, too big for her, and a smattering of clothes.
“Welcome to Exxo!” called a bearded man in his thirties from behind the counter. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Kiera approached the counter and stood in as polite a posture as she could manage. “Hi. I think I’m an orphan. Can I please have something to wear?”
“Sure, sure.” He smiled. “Do you have anything to trade?”
“Umm.” She looked down, raising and dropping her toes. “I don’t have anything at all.”
The man scratched at his beard. “Hmm. Well, sorry kid, but I’m not in the business of charity. I could pay you with a bit of clothing if you’re willing to do some work.”
“Okay. Will you give me the clothes first?”
“And have you run off? I know how you cute ones are… think we’re all saps that’ll fall for the wide blue eyes.”
“But… I’m”―her voice fell to a whisper―“naked.”
“Aha! A smart one!” He snapped his fingers. “I like that!”
Kiera scowled. “It’s not right.”
“You’re tryin’ to get one over on old Norven, aren’t ya? Someone put you up to this, right? Half the tribes in the south don’t even bother scrappin’ for clothes. Why’s it matter so much to you?”
She folded her arms. “Because it does. People are supposed to wear clothes unless they’re taking a bath.”
“Hmph. You want something to wear or not?”
“Yes!” she shouted.
“Then that means you want work.” He smiled.
Kiera narrowed her eyes at him and grumbled, “What’s the job?”
Norven pointed at the wall. “There’s a pre-Cloudfall ruin bit west o’ Exxo in a ravine. Been tryin’ ta get someone to head out that way, but they’re all afraid of it. Some nonsense about it bein’ cursed. Take the trail into the woods. Left at the split and keep goin’ ’til you see a hole on the left. It ain’t far.”
“Cursed? You think the place is cursed and you want a kid to go look at it?” She set her hands on her hips. “I’m eleven. I have no provisions, no idea where I am, no weapons, and no clothes. Are you serious?”
“Something’s different about you. I don’t think you’d be afraid of the curse. Y’aint talk like anyone I seen before.”
“I don’t believe in curses. I may be a kid, but I’m not stupid. There’s no such thing as magic.” She ground her toes into the floor. “Can’t I just sweep or wash dishes or cook or something?”
“Ehh.” Norven shrugged. “It’s the job I got. I ain’t runnin’ a cook place.”
“Ooh.” She stomped, fumed at him for a few seconds, and stormed out in a huff.
“If ya change yer mind, bring back anythin’ ya find there fer trade,” yelled Norven.
Too angry to feel shame, Kiera marched past the bizarre fountain, following a path between dwellings toward the other end of the village. Perhaps a furious scowl wasn’t the best face to wear when hoping for charity. Most people gave her the same ‘oh, someone new’ look, but didn’t try to talk or even look remotely concerned about her.
“What an idiot!” She came to a stop a few minutes away from the store and seethed at the kind of man who’d try to squeeze a desperate eleven-year-old for money. She glared back over her shoulder at the distant trading post. The idea of shoplifting had never once before entered Kiera’s mind, but she’d also never been stranded with nothing to wear either.
I’ll wait ’til dark and steal something.
14
Teryn and Mala
In search of a hiding spot to wait for nightfall, Kiera weaved around trailers converted to permanent homes, other huts made of cinder blocks and corrugated steel, a few tents, and a couple scrap-and-wood dwellings. Walking around nude bothered her more than it had in the days since she’d been spat out of the cryo chamber purely because no one reacted to it. Not one villager from toddler to grandparent seemed to care. She may as well have been back home in 2033, fully dressed, strolling down the street. Well, except for it having been too hot to go outside then.
The world is broken.
At least no one tried to grab and sell her. The village had that on the three idiots if nothing else. I’m not acting like I’m as scared as I feel. Maybe they all think I’m okay? She turned in place, searching for the first adult with a friendly expression. Perhaps if she started crying or begging, someone might realize all was not right in Kiera world.
The scent of cooking food wafted by on the wind, some manner of meat or beans. It triggered an immediate growl from her belly and got her salivating. She swallowed and hurried along the road in the direction the wind came from. The last building at that end of town, a wide structure half camper trailer, half cinder-block-and-scrap, sat near a significant collection of junk, piled in rows behind it.
She edged up to a waist-high wall of concrete hunks and old car parts surrounding a front yard. An opening, a few feet to her left, looked like it should hold a gate or something, but didn’t. A woman in her later twenties with brown skin sat on an orange plastic trunk, tending a pot at a fire pit, also made of cinder blocks, midway between the house and the wall. Her long black hair flowed in the wind, brushing a dress of pale tan cloth.
Near the back of the house, a man with a similar complexion leaned over a folding table full of tools and appliances. His camouflage shorts looked old and ready to fall to pieces, though numerous bits of decorative wood and wire held them together. He whistled to himself while tinkering with something that buzzed.
Kiera headed to the gap in the wall, entered the yard, and crept up to the woman. She clasped her hands in front of her and asked in a meek tone, “Hola. ¿Puedo tener algo de comida?”
The woman jumped, startled by her approach. “I’m sorry. What?”
Oops! “Can I please have some food? I’m alone and hungry. My parents are dead and I have no place to go.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” The woman got up and grasped her by the shoulders. “What happened? You’re far away from home, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Kiera nodded.
“Here, sit.” The woman indicated another trunk.
Kiera flopped on the warm plastic, arms crossed in her lap. The man at the table looked back, spotted her, and set do
wn a tool before walking over. After ladling out a portion of food that resembled stew into a metal bowl, the woman sat again on the orange cooler and handed her a plastic spoon.
“Thank you.” Kiera stirred at the offering, unsure what sort of meat she looked at, but it smelled like beef. Too hungry to care, she dug in. As soon as she bit into a piece, she realized it to be large cubes of mushroom.
“I am Mala,” said the woman, “and this is my husband Teryn.”
She hurried chewing her current mouthful. “I’m Kiera.”
Teryn wandered off to grab another plastic cooler. He dragged it closer and used it as a seat. “What’s your story, child?”
“I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.” Between mouthfuls of stew, she explained waking up inside a strange tank, getting flushed, finding Legacy and the bandits who tried to kidnap her, then her long walk here. “I think I might have been in virtual reality for a while. I had bad dreams, but I can’t tell if they might be memories, not dreams.”
Teryn and Mala exchanged a glance.
“I think my parents are dead. The floors had so much blood. None of the other tanks had anyone in them.”
“Aww.” Mala put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite a story.”
The way she said it didn’t come off accusing, but the woman didn’t appear to believe her, radiating confusion and concern in equal parts.
“I know it sounds made up. I promise I’m not lying. Have you ever heard of some ‘Child of the Earth’ prophecy?”
Teryn shook his head. “Nope. I’m thinkin’ that old man was out in the sun too long.”
Kiera giggled.
Mala stared at her husband for a long moment. He nodded. She looked back, squeezing her shoulder and offering a warm smile. “Kiera, if you don’t have a hearth waiting for you, we invite you to join ours.”
She scraped the spoon at the bottom of the bowl, chasing the last bits of sauce. “Hearth? What?”
Citadel: The Concordant Sequence Page 14