“Krys?” Maxis’s voice is thick with emotion.
I take a good look at my old friend. His hair is long, almost down to his shoulder. His neck, chin and lips are covered in light facial hair. In all, he looks skinnier than before. The only thing unchanged, is the faint glow still emanating from the device in his left arm.
“I can’t believe it! You’re alive!” he shouts. I place my finger over my lips. “I’ll explain later. Right now, let’s get you out of here.”
Together they stand up while I try to unlock the chain. “Who is this?” asks the woman.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” I soothe.
“They took them. They took them away!” says a tender voice next to Maxis.
“Who?” I ask.
Maxis answers, “There were twenty of us, now there’s only four.” I don’t need to ask what happened.
“We can deal with that later.”
“Who are you?” asks a husky man around fifty years old.
I show them my unpowered BAND.
“You can trust him, Emeric,” Maxis replies.
“Trust him? He’s one of those dome people. We don’t know if he can be trusted at all!”
Annoyed, I stand in from of him. “I could have left you to be chopped into pieces, right? But I didn’t.”
This shuts him up.
“Ever the diplomat, eh Krys?” Maxis jokes while I resume trying to pick the chain’s lock. “Well… Thank you for your help. I’m Emeric. You already know Maxis. The other two are Ruth and her dau—” Ruth cuts him off with a harsh shush. “Oh, right. And Alvah.”
“Like I said, we can talk later,” I strip off the Blooder outfit and breathe a sigh of relief.
“So, you know Krys?” Alvah asks Maxis.
“Ya, we both escaped the Sphere,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice.
I fiddle with the lock for some time, unable to pry it open.
“What’s taking so long?” Emeric grumbles. “We need to get out of here now!”
“Shut up, old man,” I bark.
“You boars better be done in there. If I don’t get the meat over a fire soon, it’ll go bad.”
I exchange a look of terror with Maxis as the double doors swing open. The same enormous man with a protruding belly walks in wearing a black apron. His eyes trail to Ratte lying on the floor unconscious, then up to me holding the lock.
Surprise freezes him in place then washes away with furious anger. The stack of kitchen utensils are only a few steps away from me. I pounce at them, picking up a long dagger and fling it at the cook. The blade flips in the air with a whoosh and finds his home in the giant’s chest.
He falls to his knees and lets out a gurgling plea. “Fash!” Then falls forward, sinking the dagger in further, adding another coat of blood to the floor.
It couldn’t be avoided. I had to kill him. I had to.
“What’s going on?” Fash shouts from afar.
“There’s no time.” I grip the strap of Jathom’s pack across my shoulder and squeeze. I have to make a choice. Maxis or Eli?
“Krys,” Maxis whispers behind me. If I’m quick, I could outrun Fash and escape out the back. “Krys!” Maxis repeats emphatically. I allow myself to look at him.
“What do we do?” In Pura, Maxis was the one who always seemed to have the answer. Now he waits upon me for mine.
BWOOSH! The doors open partly, hitting against Grits’ dead body. Time’s up. With Kalen’s knife in hand, I spin around ready to avenge Eli. Fash slips through the crack, now out in the open.
“You!” he snarls, baring his fang-like teeth. We both draw our guns at the same time. No shots fired.
“Well, isn’t this poetic. Here we are again, facing one another with pistols in hand. I didn’t realize you were a dome-dweller,” he mocks, eyeing my BAND.
Even if I kill him, there’s no way for me to free them. Reaching down, he grabs a key from inside Grits’ trousers. “This is what you want, right?” he asks condescendingly. “I see. You two must know each other. That’s why you risked your skin coming here, right?”
Sympathy softens my steely disposition as the chained group stifles their quivering sobs.
“I really am impressed that you made it this far, but I’m just gonna kill you now!” He steadies the revolver at me.
“This isn’t how you want to do this, Fash!”
He relaxes his arm, intrigued by my statement. “Oh?”
With bated breath, I continue. “No, you like to do it slow. I remember. You said that at the courthouse. ‘You know how I like to do it.’ Give me a chance to give you what you really want.”
He aims the revolver up, considering my words with a mischievous smirk.
You know you want to. The smirk evolves into a wide smile. “Oh, you do know just what I like!” He holds the gun by the barrel and then tosses it at the prepping station, sending pots, plates and silverware flying.
Pulling back his coat, he unsheathes a long sword; darkened from rust, blood, and flesh. His mouth opens as he raises it up and licks the blade with his tongue.
“You’re disgusting,” I state with revulsion, tossing my handgun to the side as well. Kalen’s knife is fourteen inches from butt to tip, the actual blade being only nine inches long. This leaves no room for error should I need to block or parry.
Fash twirls the sword with gleeful anticipation as we walk to the center. “Before I kill you, you should know why I’m the leader of this city. I’ve never missed more than three swings from Sanguia.”
“You named your sword?” I taunt with feigned confidence.
“You’ll get to know her in a very intimate way.” His arm shoots forward, lunging Sanguia at my stomach.
The top of my blade finds just enough purchase to redirect it away. Fash’s large boot crashes against my neck. The tendons tighten as I careen against a table, scattering more utensils. He raises the sword high and smashes it down with a savage grunt.
I roll out of the way just as it impacts, splitting the wood in two. Eli wasn’t lying. He could cut a man in two with that saber.
More utensils fly up from the force of Fash’s swing.
WHAM! With a powerful backhand, I’m sent to the ground, losing my grip on the knife.
Don’t panic, don’t panic! He’s not only incredibly strong but fast too. How can I defend myself from a man who cuts straight through bone?
I crawl against the wall as he yanks Sanguia free and rests it against his shoulders. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little disappointed. I thought you dome-dwellers were supposed to be tougher. I guess it’s my own fault for expecting so much from you.” He finishes with a dejected sigh.
“Can I ask you something?” I stutter out, stalling for time. From my peripheries, the black hilt sticks out from among the sea of rust and silver; an arm’s length away. If I don’t time this just right, I’m dead. “Years ago, you hunted down a group of people escaping to the Sphere west of this city.”
“So?”
Keep him locked in your sight. Don’t let him know what you’re thinking. “A man begged you not to kill his wife, he begged you. Do you remember?”
His gaze deviates as if recalling a fond memory.
Now! I dive for the knife as Fash’s blade zooms downward like a guillotine. On one knee, I plunge the hilt deep into his heart as the sword stops inches away from me. I straighten up and look him right in the eyes.
“Eli says hello.” I twist the hilt and shove him backwards; a heavy thud echoing as he lands on his back. Unbearable pain surges in my left arm when I try to stand up. I bring it forward for a horrifying discovery.
He cut off my hand! It lays in a puddle of blood next to me. A gargled laugh violates my conscience, adding to my trauma.
“I told you, I’ve never missed more than three times,” Fash utters with his last breath.
The stump bleeds an inordinate amount, spilling out from the gruesome dismemberment. I need to apply pressure! Taking off my bel
t, I make a tourniquet. The steady flow lessens to a dribble.
My hand, he cut off my hand! A few inches more and he would have cut into my BAND. I can still feel my fingers moving!
“Get the key!” Emeric shouts, breaking me out of the shock.
The wound needs to be cauterized to avoid infection. Mindlessly, I toss the key over to them, then ransack the cabinets and drawers.
“Don’t make any noise! We don’t want them to find us,” Emeric gripes.
“He just had his hand cut off!” Maxis retorts in my defense.
I find two glass bottles filled with clear liquid and the word, “alcohol” written on them. I grab one and pass it to Maxis. “Get that open, I need to disinfect the wound.”
“Right,” he pops off the top. He tips the bottle and pours the liquid over the stump. The tender flesh burns mercilessly as white foam bubbles up and covers the laceration. It’s like sticking my arm in a fire.
I nearly bite my tongue off to keep from screaming. Before Maxis empties the bottle completely, I rip it from his hands and drink the last few gulps. “Get me something to wrap it in!” I demand breathlessly, breaking the bottle next to Ratte’s head.
Maxis tears off a few strips from the Blooder shirt I wore earlier and sterilizes them with the second bottle.
“Here, let me,” Alvah says with a kind voice.
“Thanks,” I barely manage to reply, still reeling in agony.
“We don’t have time for this. We have to leave now before someone comes back,” Emeric asserts, his hands shaking with adrenaline.
“If we don’t get his arm dressed, he could bleed out and die,” Alvah answers patiently. “And considering he could have left us here to die and got his hand chopped off in the process, I’d say he’s earned it.”
Emeric throws up his hands “Alright, alright, fine we’ll make sure he’s okay and then we go.”
“Thanks, Al,” Maxis says, putting his hand on Alvah’s shoulder. “You’re a female?” I ask surprised.
Ruth rushes over, pushing Maxis away. “You can’t let them find out! If they do, she’ll be—”
“It’s ok, Ruth,” Alvah replies, followed by Maxis.
“No one’s going to hurt her, okay? I promise.”
Ruth narrows her eyes bitterly at him. “Like when our caravan was captured?”
“That wasn’t my fault, Ruth,” he answers defensively.
“Or how about the last two weeks? They picked us off one by one every night for their meals!”
“Ever since you stumbled into Roosevelt, you’ve caused nothing but trouble!” Emeric accuses, sticking his face aggressively close to Maxis.
Beyond frustrated, I seize Emeric by his shirt collar, still holding Kalen’s knife, and back him up against the wall. The blade is perched precariously close to his neck as I hold him.
“I don’t care! Both of you shut up before you get us all killed. It will take two minutes tops to dress my wound—” I pause to show it to him close up, “—and then we can leave. But until then, if I hear another sound come out of your mouth, you’ll join those two over there.” I point my stub at Grits and Fash.
Emeric nods without saying a word as I walk back over to Alvah. She wraps each strip around the stump tightly, then adds another layer.
“Y-you might want to stay as calm as you can… It will only make you bleed quicker,” she comments quietly.
“Sounds like you’ve done this before,” I take her advice, breathing as calmly as I can.
“I’m a practicing nurse. My Dad taught me everything I know. We’ve treated a lot of hurt people.”
I wince when she scraps her nails across accidentally. “Sorry! It’s been a little while.”
“It’s okay. So you’re not from this city?” I ask mournfully.
She shakes her head. “No, we’re not even from this state. It’ll take us a few days to get back. There were forty of us…” Her voice trails off. Clearing her throat, she continues. “Where we come from, the Blooders are fewer in number, so the raids aren’t as frequent.”
She ties the last wrap with a tight knot. I loosen the tourniquet slightly to relieve some pressure in my upper arm. With every throbbing heartbeat, a staggering, fiery sting pulsates to the stub; giving me an instant headache. My forehead wets with sweat as I take a step forward.
Maxis prevents my fall as the dizziness gets worse. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Krys.”
“Yeah, I know. Getting your hand cut off will do that,” I reply with a cheeky smile.
He takes note of this and reciprocates. “Well, look at that. You have a personality after all.”
I put my arm around his shoulder and stand upright.
“Alright, we waited for you. Now can we please get out of here?”
With the pain diminished, detailed features of the other three become clear. Ruth has thin, scraggly, gray hair that hangs in front of her face. She is easily the oldest person among us.
Emeric is more heavy set, but not much when compared to Ratte. His thick bristly mustache hides most of his mouth when he talks.
Alvah has striking red hair that she hides under a scarf, though a few strands poke out regardless.
Emeric saunters to the double doors, cautiously stepping over the two corpses. “Don’t forget those,” I point at both the discarded firearms. “We might need them.”
As Alvah and Emeric retrieve them, a low mewl stirs out of Ratte’s awakening body.
“Kill him before he tells the others,” Ruth orders, pointing her finger at the pudgy Blooder.
Ratte comes to, slurring his sentences. “What happened… Where’s the livestock?”
Emeric aims Fash’s revolver at him. “Wait! If you fire, they will hear us for sure and then we’ll have thousands of Blooders flooding this building.”
With obvious contempt, he lowers the revolver. I ask Maxis to walk me closer to him.
“Ratte, I need you to listen,” he nods in compliance, still dazed. “Is there another exit out of this building?”
His chapped lips smack together, analyzing the situation. “What’s in it for me? You’re the one stealing our dinner.” He barters, trying to camouflage his undeniable fear.
“You get to live,” I voice as threateningly as possible. “You have my word.”
Still on the floor, he turns his head to the oozing cadavers. “That’s reassuring. I’ll do it.”
I reach out my hand and we pull him up together.
“If you double cross us, she’ll kill you,” Maxis gestures at Alvah as she cocks the pistol.
With a not so subtle gulp, his voice cracks. “The food pantry. There’s a loose window at the top. If you smash it open, you can make a clean break around the stadium and circle back to the lesser-patrolled areas.”
Emeric groans sarcastically. “Some plan.”
My patience is all out. With no restraint I berate him, “How about we send you out the front door alone and see how you do?”
He exhales sharply, flinching with a fear; examining my handiwork bleeding out before him.
“Unless you have a better plan, stay quiet.” I instruct Maxis and Alvah to chain up Ratte so he doesn’t escape. We file behind him, the door hinges squeaking, exposing the spacious main hall. “The pantry, Ratte,” I remind, catching him peeking at the front door.
He guides us to the west section, then to the very back of the building. All the doors are boarded up as we come to a dead end.
“What is this, Ratte?”
He reaches for the last door on the left. I move in front of him.
“Allow me.”
Hundreds of cardboard boxes are stacked neatly inside a roomy warehouse. We rush in and I quietly put the door back in its place.
“What is this?” Alvah asks, her words bouncing around eroded cement and steel.
“This is our pantry,” Ratte replies.
Emeric’s swollen hands rip apart the closest package. “Oh yes!”
“What is it?” Alvah a
sks.
He holds high a can of vegetables, “It’s food!” They all dive in, grabbing boxes of their own, taking what they can carry.
“There’s more food here than we’d know what to do with!” Ruth exclaims.
With a squeal of indignation, Ratte huffs in protest. Maxis unseals an old canister of peanuts and shares them with Alvah. Ruth finds a box of stale crackers and begins gnawing on them while Emeric struggles to open the can he found.
I know how hard it is to go a few days without a good meal. And with all they’ve been through, it’s exactly what they need right now. His fingers slip off the top, prompting him to curse. I offer my knife as a token of good faith.
His brown eyes slit shut before waving me away.
“How are you going to open it then?” I ask, feeling somewhat offended.
“You stuck that thing into another man’s chest, I think I’ll pass.”
The color in his cheeks turn bright red as he pulls again. The top cracks open with a bassy pop, spraying the juice inside all over himself. “You see,” he gloats, slurping up the colorless mush. Sighs of relief, chomping of teeth, and groans of satisfaction blend together in harmony.
In the far end of the pantry, two small windows gleam just like Ratte said. “Ok, Ratte, you held up your end.” I tie the chain to a line of pipes jutting out of the wall.
“You get to live, just like I said.” He smiles naively, expelling a horrendous odor from his decaying mouth. “Sorry,” I surprise him with a right hook to his temple, knocking him out.
Using Jathom’s pack, I slice open a small unassuming box and fill it. “Okay, time to go.”
“What? We just got here! We need to eat,” Emeric bellows.
The blatant arrogance in his tone makes my blood boil. “We go now or we die. And then the Blooders will be eating us instead,” I respond, biting my tongue to bridle my temper.
The empty can clatters onto the smooth warehouse surface as he spikes it heatedly. “I’ve had it with you, kid! You may have saved our lives but you’re not in charge of me!”
I grasp the handle of the knife, digging my fingers into the steel grooves. He plows straight at me, his body tensing up. It’s easy to read him, he wants to attack and I want to let him.
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