John was dead.
Chapter 12
Not your fault, not your fault.
My mind automatically recited the mantra, a useless attempt to calm the hysteria rising in my gut.
It wouldn’t work this time.
“What happened?” Vanessa yelled as she ambled toward me through the tall grass.
Her voice barely registered. I couldn’t look away from the dead body before me. He seemed suddenly so young. And somehow smaller. How could I have….
Vanessa arrived at the scene, panting slightly.
“What happened?” she repeated. “Did—“
Her voice faltered when she caught sight of the body. She stared at it, aghast, for a solid ten seconds before turning to me. The appalled look on her face mirrored my own.
“Rhyan, what happened?”
I’d done it. I’d never done it before, but now I had. I’d killed somebody. Not even on accident; I’d meant for it to happen.
Vanessa’s hand flew at my face and hit me across the cheek.
“Rhyan!”
“I don’t know!” I cried, my voice thick. “I don’t know--it just happened! I was going to kill it, and then he was going to kill me, so I let it go and then it—it killed him!”
“Wait, you… You let the alien go?”
I nodded.
“Where is it?”
I gestured toward the mutilated mess a ways back.
“You killed it?”
I nodded again.
“Rhyan—how could you?” Her voice was laced with horror. “He was the one who was going to get us there! He was the only way we were going to make it!” She burst into tears and crouched down. Both hands covered her mouth as she rocked back and forth on her heels.
Her insinuation rattled me from of my shocked state. I glared down at her.
“How could I? How could he—that’s what you should be asking. He tried to kill me, Vanessa. Shot a gun at me! Just because I wanted that monster dead!”
“But you knew!” she shouted back through her tears, standing. “You knew he wanted to keep it! Why couldn’t you just let him keep it? It wasn’t hurting anything!”
“Wasn’t hurting any—“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence, I was so outraged.
“Look what you’ve done! You’ve gotten us stranded in the middle of nowhere! No one to help us! We’re going to die out here! You stupid, stupid girl! I hate you!”
She turned abruptly and stormed away, back toward the campsite.
I glowered at her departing figure, my fury dogging her every step. Rage scorched within my chest, demanding release, demanding another victim.
“Aaagh!” I screamed into the empty night. Grabbing a knife, I began stabbing the ground, dirt and plant bits flying everywhere—into my mouth, my hair, my eyes. I pierced the earth with sharp gashes for long minutes, destroying everything I could as fast as I could.
But then one my swings flew too hard and my hand slipped down past the guard. The blade cut into my palm and fingers. I cried out in pain, but surprisingly it was the pain that calmed me down.
Sitting back, I squeezed my wrist and watched blood flow from the cut. It was good; I should bleed. It was the only way to cope. I breathed in deeply, filling the depths of my lungs with the blood scents of the alien, John, and me.
I looked at John. He’d tried to kill me. Somehow, though, the anger of it had dissipated. We were the same, really. Just trying to make our way through a world that had been lost. Maybe we would have been friends in another life.
I looked at the alien. The decrepit creature whose existence had taken mine away. I wondered if we had had anything in common. I couldn’t imagine leaving home just to destroy another’s existence, but who knew? Maybe it didn’t have a choice in the matter. Just as I’d had no choice in killing John.
Stupid, foolish John.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, my fallen comrades beside me, but I was still there when the morning larks began singing and pink tinged the eastern sky. The bleeding from my hand had stopped, though the bleeding from my soul hadn’t. I didn’t know if it ever would.
At some point, unbidden, I rose and began shuffling back to the campsite. I noticed Lucky tied to the tree, grazing without care, as if the whole world hadn’t shifted last night.
I had an inkling that Vanessa wouldn’t be there and as I drew closer I could see it was right.
I was alone again.
Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back. Being alone, being hated, being a…. murderer…. None of that was as bad as losing Dad and Zach.
I wouldn’t cry.
No tears fell from my eyes, but they were pouring down just behind. I was broken. I didn’t want to do anything but fall on the ground and pray the vultures would find me.
But…
I’d promised to keep trying.
So even though it was the last thing in the world I felt like doing, I rummaged through John’s backpack and found his canteen. I choked down some dry oatmeal. Then, a few preparations later, I climbed back into the saddle.
Chapter 13
I rode hard all day under the incessant sun. Vanessa had left the compass behind—and all of John’s things—when she’d huffed away. I wondered if she knew where she was going without it, and if I would run into her.
And that wouldn’t be awkward at all.
We went along all morning in a northeastern route. Nothing much happened, and I thought it was a little strange we hadn’t come across even one enemy. Obviously they preferred the urban lifestyle, but there had always been some to find away from the city.
By the time midafternoon rolled around we had come to a brook. I unsaddled Lucky, who was sweaty all over, and let him wade around. It must have felt good because he suddenly laid down right there in the middle of the stream and let the water run over his legs.
“You must have been a fish in a past life,” I teased.
It did look tempting, though, so I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my pants and joined him. Sitting on his back, my feet dangling into the rippling water, I began braiding his long black mane.
The buzzing of bugs in the grass, the steady sloshing of the water flowing over rocks, the sunlight hugging my back—it was almost like a sedative. Getting next-to-no sleep over the past few days was bearing down on me all at once.
I didn’t have anything to tie the braids with, so they came undone almost instantly, but I kept braiding them anyway, over and over. I gradually realized, sitting there lazily, that I was actually feeling—well, not peaceful—but, calm, maybe.
Abruptly I threw myself off the horse and splashed over to the bank. Hastily I wrestled my socks onto my still-wet feet, then jammed shoes on over them. Lucky looked at me, head high in alarm, but I didn’t care.
Murderers shouldn’t feel calm.
I coaxed the horse out of the river, threw on his saddle, and went on my way, disturbed by my own thoughts.
As the sunlight faded, the city lights began to glow, more brightly than I’d seen before. We were close enough I was able to make out actual buildings.
“We must have made some real progress today, boy,” I murmured.
If we kept going like we had been, we would probably arrive later that night.
I hope it’s really people in there.
Now that I was close, and the city was more reality than vague prospect, I began to worry that this might not be the answer I had pegged it for. What if it was some sort of Vela trap? Or maybe survivors that had turned into barbarians, like in Lord of the Flies? Or maybe just a few crazy guys who knew about electricity and were scared of the dark?
Really, anything could be waiting there. All I knew about the place was that it somehow miraculously had power. But maybe, with some luck, by this time tomorrow I would be eating a hot microwave dinner and watching Friends on TV. I really hadn’t appreciated electricity before—it really was the best thing ever.
The night got darker and the temperature began
to drop. What had happened to Vanessa? Most likely she’d gotten lost, but now that the city was shining like a beacon, she’d probably be on her way. Assuming she hadn’t been attacked by the coyotes or worse. She really shouldn’t have left—two heads being better and that. But apparently she preferred gambling with death over my company.
As we drew closer, the boundless grassland was suddenly cut through by a wide highway. It was lined with abandoned cars and litter and led straight to the city. I turned Lucky onto it, and he broke into a trot, as if he sensed our endless journey might actually be at an end.
When we were near enough I was able to make out some sort of barricade stretching across like the world’s longest wall. It was semi trucks. Hundreds of them—all lined up headlight to taillight. I caught sight of shadowed figures moving across the tops. Not many, but they were there. Humans figures.
Lucky’s hoof beats weren’t exactly quiet on the concrete, and they spotted us quickly. A blinding spotlight was suddenly pointed right into my face.
“Who goes there?” a man yelled.
Before I could answer, Lucky shied violently to the left, braying at something. Jumping from the saddle, I looped the reins around my elbow, and pulled out my knives, trying to blink spots from my eyes. They weren’t fully adjusted though, and the Vela that had appeared from behind a truck took a heavy swipe at me. Thankfully, it hadn’t been within range and all I felt were the tips of its claws, like a papercut.
“No—don’t shoot!” I heard a voice shout from atop one of the diesels. “You might hit her!”
I still couldn’t see well, but I slashed at where I guessed its middle was and made contact. The beast squealed as its insides became outside, and I could just make out its silhouette crumpling over. But another monstrous figure was just behind it.
It was huge, and I could see its claws had long reach. Too long—it would be able to stab me before I would be able to get close enough for a killing blow. It lumbered toward me quickly and I didn’t have time to think. On pure instinct, I did something I’d never done before: I threw my knife. Blindly, stupidly. But somehow, amazingly, it found its mark and the Vela joined its companion on the asphalt with a thud.
Breaths coming in puffs, I looked anxiously around. When no other monsters appeared, I climbed back onto Lucky, who had been dancing at the end of the reins throughout the whole ordeal.
I left the knife sticking out of the alien’s gut. My gift to you, I thought.
The people standing guard stared down at me.
“Who are you?” a voice called down again.
“Name’s Rhyan,” I yelled back. “And I could really use a shower.”
Chapter 14
Liquid beads snaked down my legs and white steam swelled all around. The clear water turned bronze as it fell, peeling away the film of dust I’d become accustomed to. My head swayed underneath the showerhead, completely drenching my grease-laden hair. Eyes closed, I concentrated on the moment: the tapping of the water droplets against the tile; the warm, humid air filling my lungs…. I could hardly believe this was real and not some amazingly vivid hallucination.
But the delectable scent of the shampoo was too distinct to deny; I really was here, I really was basking in a hot shower. And afterward, there really was a bowl of soup—hot soup— waiting for me. I was sure that even if I had died out there, heaven itself couldn’t have offered anything more gratifying.
After I’d announced myself to the guards, a dark-haired woman—armed at the waist—had emerged from one of the trucks, introducing herself as Sadie. She’d scrutinized me openly from head to toe, so I stared right back. Her clothes were clean, and though she was thin, she didn’t look emaciated. Actually, on a basic healthcare level she appeared better off than anyone I’d seen in a year.
She demanded I hop down from the horse so she could frisk me. Two knives, a compass, and a tube of Chapstick later, she was satisfied enough to turn her attention to John’s backpack and Lucky’s tack. Then, finally, she’d announced that we would be allowed entrance into the city. One of the trucks was moved out of position to create an entryway large enough for me to lead Lucky through.
Although it was late, I’d insisted they show me where some mustached guy wanted to take Lucky. Sadie had agreed, leading the way down an abandoned, lamplit street and through an alley where I was pleasantly surprised to see an actual stable, housing at least a dozen other horses. Lucky seemed content enough with them in the paddock so I left, promising to check in on him soon.
Then Sadie had taken me to an apartment building where I followed her up four flights of dimly lit stairs. I followed as we passed by a few gray doors in a narrow hallway, until she opened one marked ‘42’ to reveal a small studio apartment. Inside was a brown sofa that had been unfolded into a lumpy bed, a humming refrigerator, and a beige-colored bathroom. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, but I wasn’t about to complain.
While I stood watching, Sadie retrieved a can of chicken soup from a cabinet, plopped it into a bowl, and placed it in the microwave. The end-of-cycle beep-beep was the most sublime music I’d ever heard.
“Okay, kid, you probably have a lot of questions, but right now I need you to get yourself together,” Sadie said in her husky voice. “People are gonna want to meet you tomorrow and you look like you’ve been through hell.”
And with that, she’d turned and walked out the door. She was maybe not the friendliest person, but I liked her anyway. No one since Tanya had been so charitable toward me.
Despite the working microwave, I’d hardly dared to hope that there would be hot water. So when the ‘H’ faucet began pouring out warmth, I’d jumped in so fast I forgot to take off my socks.
Following the shower and bowl of soup (bowls of soup, actually—I’d found more in the pantry), I almost felt like a different person. It was strange, putting on pajamas—they felt far too loose, far too vulnerable. I didn’t know if I would be able to sleep without the familiar bulge of a knife at my hip.
I should probably sleep with one anyway. Who knows what this place is about?
Walking over to the window, I peeked behind the heavy curtain and gazed out at a maze of skyscrapers penetrating the black sky. Lit windows created a patchwork of random squares, but I didn’t see anyone.
I wondered if the people here just took in all the random strays who wandered up to the walls. I wondered what their price would be for allowing me in—everything always had a price, even before the Vela had arrived.
A street light below changed from green to yellow to red, but other than that, the night was still. I dropped the curtain into place and went over to the bed. The pillow felt far too poofy.
Relax, Rhyan, I told myself. You did it –you’re here.
Somehow the thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.
Once, when Zach and I were younger, Dad had taken us on vacation to the coast. The motel we’d stayed in had a similar feeling as this room: strange smells, foreign scenery, unfamiliar humming sounds….
I wished they were here.
Chapter 15
Considering everything, sleep should’ve come in a blink. The last time I’d been in a real bed was ages ago, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. The more I tried to relax, the more my thoughts festered in a tornado of discontent. A solid hour later I finally gave up and sat facing the wall, my back cushioned with a pillow.
Blinking into the darkness, only a moment passed before my ears pricked. Voices, faint but undeniably there, penetrated the thin wall. As I listened, they seemed to become louder. Knowing there was no way I’d be able to sleep now that I’d tuned into the sounds, I rose and slipped out of the room.
Standing in the hall outside the door, the words were clear as a bell, the speakers not trying at all to keep their voices down.
“My dear boy, if that's the way you feel about it, let's have a look at the blasted note. Where is it?”
“In the bottle.”
“Well,
where's the bottle?”
“The Frenchman has it.”
“Confounded, where's the Frenchman?”
“You had him thrown off the ship in Glasgow.”
I raised a fist and knocked as the argument became more heated. The yelling stopped instantly and a long moment passed before the door cracked open an inch.
“Who’s there?” a woman asked. I couldn’t see her.
“Your neighbor. I can’t sleep with all the yelling.”
“Oh dear,” she replied. The door opened wider to reveal an older, slightly podgy woman with dark hair. She was in a wheelchair.
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t think anyone else was nearby.”
“I just got here.”
“Won’t you come in?”
She wheeled back, making room for me to enter. I hesitated.
“May as well get acquainted,” she said, “if we’re to be neighbors.”
It had to be three in the morning, but since we were both wide awake…
“I guess.” I stepped inside. A glowy light was coming from the room just ahead.
“I’m Claire,” the woman said, proceeding before me. As I entered the main living area only one thing grabbed my attention.
“You have a TV?”
“You don’t?” Claire asked.
Two men were frozen mid-conversation, obviously the source of the voices.
I shook my head. “Just a dresser.”
“Well ain’t that a burr in the saddle. Millions of TVs sittin’ around useless, and they can’t bother to give you one.”
“What’re you watching?”
“In Search of the Castaways.”
“Never heard of it.”
“No kidding? It’s a classic.”
She picked up the remote from the TV stand and pressed ‘play’. The men resumed their argument, this time at a lower volume.
“You hungry?” Claire asked.
“I already ate.”
“I have some Cheetos. They’re a little stale, but…” She held out a half-empty bag. It was like she somehow knew my biggest weakness. Abandoning reservation, I plunged my hand in and withdrew a fistful of orange rods.
Girl Vs (Sinister Skies Book 1) Page 6