by Wood, Rick
But, as Ryker pointed out, she had the experience. She knew what it was like out there. She knew how to hear a Waster coming.
Strange, that—how he only referenced the dangers posed to them by Wasters, and not any of the other creatures.
Ryker lifted his fist, and the group halted. He had seen something, and was aiming his rifle, as were the rest of the group.
Cia looked around.
She did not have a rifle. She had a knife. She knew little about operating guns, and besides, she found a gun difficult to aim.
A knife was easy to aim—you just swung it toward the throat.
She looked behind herself, to the side, peering all around. The others were focussed on the animal—a deer, she had heard Ryker mention—and it was her job to focus on threats, to ensure they were safe as they hunted this deer.
Something in the distance caught her attention. Something glistening, poking out from a group of leaves.
Something that intrigued her, though she wasn’t sure why.
She meandered away from the group. They barely noticed, concentrating on the deer and readying their guns to fire. She moved in the opposite direction, toward this glistening item.
She crouched beside it. Stroked a few wayward leaves out of the way.
It was a necklace.
The chain was chunky, and on the end was a pendant.
She opened the pendant.
A woman with brown hair looked up at her.
The picture seemed familiar.
In fact, the whole necklace seemed familiar.
And, just as she recognised the familiarity, a sudden surge of memory imploded into her thoughts.
A memory of a day ago, as she sat beside Hades, and he showed her his necklace, told her the story of his mum, how she died, and…
Oh, God…
She lifted the necklace from the leaves. Looked back at the rest of the group.
None of them had seen her.
Could she be mistaken?
There were many necklaces, many with thick chains; people were bound to wear them. It could be anyone’s.
But she knew it was denial.
Anybody could carry a chain, but not just anyone could carry a chain with a picture of Hades’ mother.
The group fired their guns. A cheer of rejoice followed as they celebrated their kill. They began fast-paced talking of what to do with it, how to transport it home, how to share it out, what a good kill it was and so on and so forth.
None of them looked back at Cia.
Cia, staring at them with the necklace in hand.
Her first instinct was to confront Ryker. To march up to him, or to get him alone when they get back.
But to what avail?
What good would that be?
She had confronted him about many things and every time—every damn time—she received the same answers.
He always looked at her like she it was just because she was struggling to adjust to a world where she didn’t have to fight, where not everything was the horror she assumed it was.
So she pocketed it.
Saved it for later.
This community had become everything, and this could shatter that, and she didn’t want it to.
Ryker had promised her answers, but they were not forthcoming.
Maybe she would have to acquire them in other ways.
Chapter Forty
Once they returned to the community, a dead stag resting over the shoulders of two men who gleefully carried it to the butchers, Ryker turned to Cia and thanked her for her work.
“I didn’t really do much,” admitted Cia.
“No, you did,” said Ryker. “I saw you, looking around for us, checking we were safe. Just because you didn’t fight anyone doesn’t mean you did nothing. I just wanted you to know you’re doing well.”
Cia nodded nervously; she wasn’t used to compliments, and she was wary what she may be about to discover.
She walked as if she was returning home, long enough for Ryker to take his eyes off her and direct himself toward Arnold’s office. Ryker nodded at Arnold, who stood in his window, just as he entered the building. Cia waited a little more, then crouched and ran to the entrance Ryker had just disappeared through.
She saw Ryker and Arnold meet each other at the base of the stairs, so she waited outside the door and watched from her hidden position.
They talked with stern, serious faces, then nodded. They both walked into the building—but they did not return to Arnold’s office. Instead, they began a confident, meaningful stride in the opposite direction.
Once they were out of sight, Cia opened the door just wide enough for her to sneak in. A glance back to check no one had seen her, and she was inside. She walked lightly to the edge of the corridor and peered around.
Arnold and Ryker disappeared around the other end of the corridor. She snuck out from her position and, keeping herself low, rushed to the end they had just disappeared behind.
Down the end of another long corridor, they walked out of a backdoor and into the outside. Cia followed, then paused by the door and watched through its small window.
Out the back of the building was a long garden path leading to a set of wooden stairs. The stairs themselves looked sturdy and new. They did not creak as Arnold and Ryker began to ascend them.
They must have built them after the creatures rose. It was a strange thing to build following the end of the world.
Cia left the building and followed them, keeping her distance, and moving from cover to cover. The steps kept rising and rising, so much so it was easy for her to linger behind and remain out of view.
After much climbing, the stairs took them to a small podium that hovered over the edge of the wall that surrounded the community.
Here, Arnold and Ryker paused, and they talked to someone who was already on the podium.
Cia couldn’t quite make out who it was, but the conversation did not look like a light one. Their faces were empty, and the conversation was firm.
Cia attempted to move a little closer, just close enough that she could hide on a step low enough for them not to see her, but high enough that she could eavesdrop on what they were saying.
“Are you ready?” Ryker asked.
“Yes,” came a man’s voice.
“Are you willing?” Arnold asked.
The man’s voice did not reply.
“I said, are you willing?”
“If you’re asking whether I wish to do this, then no.”
“It is an honour,” interjected Ryker.
“It is a necessity,” said the man.
Cia peered forward, reaching her stare further and further, until she could see more of this man. She saw a familiar hand that led to a strong arm that led to the distraught face of…
Hades.
His hands were bound in front of him, and his body was fixed to the podium.
“It’s time,” said Arnold.
Ryker tied a rope around the rope that bound Hades’ fists.
To Cia’s astonishment, Hades did not fight it. He was reluctant and despondent, but he allowed Ryker to attach this rope and hike his hands up, higher and higher, until Hades’ hands were above his head and he was dangling with his toes just about scraping the ground.
Ryker took out a knife and, with no pause or hesitation, slit Hades’ right wrist, then his left. Blood trickled out, a river down his arm.
Ryker stood to Hades’ left, Arnold stood to Hades’ right, and, in unison, they took to their knees and bowed their heads. Together, they remained in this position of worship.
Above them, a group of creatures circled in the sky. A squawk and a screech and they descended lower, lower, until they were hovering before the podium; a group of Masketes, hungry and ready.
The biggest of the Masketes floated forward, hovering, screeching its war-cry.
Ryker and Arnold did not run. In fact, they did not move. They remained focussed in their position, heads down, on one knee.<
br />
Hades cried.
That confident face, that warm swagger, it all fell from his body and he began to struggle. Whatever he had agreed to, he was now changing his mind, and tears were running down his cheeks.
“No, please,” he began to murmur. “Please, I don’t want to do this, I change my mind, it’s not an honour, it’s not a necessity, I want to live, please, please…”
Ryker and Arnold remained as they were.
The Maskete swooped at Hades and, with its mouth outstretched, sunk its jaw around his neck. It pulled and yanked, then finally took Hades’ head clean off.
The Maskete threw the head behind itself, a look of wide-eyed terror still adorning its face, and allowed the other Masketes fight among themselves for it.
The Maskete then landed on the podium, inches from the still unmoved Ryker and Arnold, and devoured the rest of the body. It took seconds until all that was left of Hades was a blood-streaked podium, torn rags, and the occasional bone or liver or heart.
With Hades opened up, the Maskete lifted out his insides; his intestines and liver and heart; and threw them backwards, allowing the other Masketes to catch them and swallow them whole.
The Maskete sniffed Arnold and Ryker, then took off, launching into the sky, followed by the rest, until all of them had disappeared.
Cia couldn’t move.
Her open mouth stuttered a few incomprehensible syllables.
But she had to move.
Because Ryker and Arnold were now standing, and she did not want to be noticed.
She retreated backwards down the stairs, until she was completely out of earshot, then turn and belted back through the building and into the streets.
Chapter Forty-One
Every step Cia took was different.
The people going about their chores had grim expressions, the buildings were darker and more ominous, and the bare streets were paved with blood only she could see.
Despite the terror that raged her mind, she took each step slowly, stuck in a static catastrophe. Her body had stiffened. Her forehead was dripping with sweat. Her heart was thumping against the constraint of her ribs.
Denial was her first instinct.
Was there any way she could explain what she’d just witnessed?
Any way at all that she could have misinterpreted?
She scoffed the thought away and shook her head to herself. There was no way you can see murder as anything other than murder.
Then again, she’d killed. Dalton had seen her killing as unjust, but she hadn’t.
Was there any way that…
No.
She was just trying to find something, desperate to find a way to un-taint the tainted walls of this community.
Was that how the creatures stayed away?
Because they gave them enough to feed?
Slowly and cautiously, she approached her home.
Home.
Could she still call it her home?
Isn’t a home somewhere you meant to feel safe?
Boy sat on the porch with Graham. Once Graham saw her, he raised his hand and smiled. She tried raising a hand back, but it didn’t lift very far.
As she approached, his delight at seeing her morphed to concern. From his expression, she realised that she must look dreadful.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
Is everything okay?
What a question.
She looked to Boy, blissfully unaware, contentedly happy in this new place, where he could learn about body language and learn about dinosaurs and feel safe.
Safe.
What does that even mean?
“Cia?” Graham prompted, and she realised she had turned catatonic.
“Yeah?” she said, though she wasn’t sure how much of the word came out.
“I said, are you okay? You look terrible.”
She went to explain what she’d just seen, but then she thought—does he know?
She looked over her shoulder at a woman carrying a box of crops.
Does she know?
Do all those people working hard for their community, all those people performing their roles, smiling at her as she walked past, being nice to Boy—do they know?
Or are they blissfully unaware?
“I’m…” Cia went to answer, but she lost the words.
“Cia, what is going on?” Graham asked, evidently concerned, and she knew she had to say something.
“Graham,” she began, forcing her voice to come out, “how much do you know about this place?”
“What do you mean?”
“As in, do you know why the creatures stay away? Why they don’t attack?”
Graham shrugged.
“I know what I need to know.”
What did that even mean?
I know what I need to know.
Cia had no way of deciphering that.
Did that mean he just took it on faith, or did that mean he knew, to some extent, what Arnold and Ryker were doing?
Then a thought hit her so hard it took her off her feet and onto her knees.
Cathryn.
Did she really runaway?
Oh, God.
Did they feed her alive to the creatures? Did she have to suffer what Hades…
She covered her face. She did not want Graham or Boy to see her cry.
“Cia?” Graham said, and he came to her side, kneeling down, putting his hand on her back.
“Come on, how about you go lie down,” he suggested.
Lie down?
“I’ll take care of Boy.”
“No!” she snapped.
She would not leave Boy. Not now, never.
“What is it?” Graham asked.
“Boy comes with me,” Cia said.
“He’s safe with me, trust me.”
Cia looked up at him.
Was he safe with him?
Was anyone safe with anyone?
Was she next? Was that the real reason they had brought her in?
So many questions, so little answers, and so much anxiety that she struggled to keep her grip on the one thing that had previously willed away the fears—this place.
This had been her salvation, Boy’s salvation, their way out of the miserable life of being walking food, surviving from one minute to the next.
She didn’t want to let go of this new hope; she wanted to cling onto it, keep her grip.
But she had just watched them sacrifice a man she cared about.
She needed to think, and she needed to be alone.
With Boy.
She stood, grabbed Boy’s arm, and pulled him with her.
“Rosy!” he objected, but she ignored it, and she dragged him away.
“Cia?” shouted Graham, but she ignored him.
Once she had entered her house, she locked the door.
But would that be enough?
It was their community; would they not have a key?
She bolted the door. Picked up a chair and propped it against the door handle, then did the same with the back door.
“Rosy, what’s happening?” Boy asked, his voice so innocent, his question so unknowing.
“We’re going to sleep like we used to tonight,” she said. “Together. How would you like that?”
He seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded eagerly.
Darkness was descending outside, but she did not plan on sleeping herself.
They lay on the sofa, Cia behind Boy with her arm around him, listening to the sound of him snoring like she had for so many nights, adamantly staying awake.
Chapter Forty-Two
Cia woke up in the darkest part of the night.
How had she fallen asleep?
She lay on her back on the sofa, Boy soundly asleep, his arm draped across her chest. His breath puffed against her chin and she never felt smaller.
A muffled bang sounded from outside the house.
Was that what had woken her up?
Another ban
g.
Was this it?
Were they outside her house?
Had they seen her? Were they coming for her?
She gently lifted Boy’s arm from around her and shifted his much greater weight away. She stepped over his tall body and placed her feet gently on the carpet. Even though her feet wouldn’t make a sound, she stepped lightly anyway, instinctively being cautious.
She paused and listened.
Another muffled bang, but it wasn’t in the house, nor was it against the door or the wall.
She crept to the window, moved the curtain marginally apart, and peered out.
She could see little in the darkness. She squinted and peered and struggled to see where the noise was coming from, but then another muffled bang came, and her eyes quickly directed themselves next door.
Graham’s house.
Three of them. Big, burly men. Knocking on his door. She didn’t recognise any of them.
“Come on, Graham,” one of them said. “You knew it was your turn.”
Your turn?
She had no definite proof of what that meant, but she made a quick assumption and stubbornly stuck to it.
Looking back at Boy, she hesitated.
Could she leave him alone?
Next door, one of them barged open the door.
She couldn’t let them get to Graham.
She grabbed the front door key, rushed to it, unbolted and removed the chair she’d propped against it, and flung herself out.
She took a moment to lock the door, then buried the key in her pocket.
There was no point being subtle, no point sneaking up on them—what help would that be?
“Oi!” she shouted.
Two of the men looked at her. Where was the third?
“What’s going on?” she shouted.
“Go back inside,” said one of the men. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It does, what are you doing?”
“Go back to bed,” said another assertively. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
From the doorway came the third man, dragging out Graham, his arms interlocked between Graham’s elbows.
“No!” Cia shouted, and rushed to this man, trying to pull him off Graham.
“Cia, stop,” Graham said. “It’s okay.”