Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  The pressure was released from Jahrys’s side as Rallick swung his Captor towards Kevrin. “Don’t be doing anything stupid now. We weren’t going to hurt anyone—really. We just wanted the diary.” Rallick said, but he sounded worried.

  Stade was whimpering and Taygar was moaning.

  “No one will get hurt as long as you hand Jahrys the diary.” Kevrin’s body was shaking.

  Jahrys watched the knife begin to dig into Stade’s suit; blood was seeping out.

  “Kevrin,” Jahrys said, concerned. “Stop!”

  But the knife dug a little deeper. Stade moaned.

  Everyone held their breath.

  Suddenly Captor blasts exploded around them. The Retrievers turned and saw the five Hoarders piling through a newly opened path.

  “Run!” Jahrys yelled.

  The Retrievers ran south along the shore, bumping into each other, trying desperately to get ahead of one another, as they searched for another path to take them out of the open. They needed cover—fast.

  Blasts zipped past their heads, feet, and arms as the Hoarders closed the distance behind them.

  “Where do we go?” Elyara yelled from up ahead.

  “Over there! Go left!” Jahrys ordered, pointing to an opening fifty yards ahead. They picked up their pace, but it was difficult running on the sand. Jahrys felt his ankles give out beneath him a few times. Blasts exploded around him, sending clouds of sand into the air. The sand clouds blinded Jahrys, but he kept running. Jahrys winced as sand dug into his wound.

  They reached the opening and Elyara, Kevrin, and Jahrys piled into it.

  “Where’re you going?” Jahrys turned to see Rallick, Stade, and Taygar running past them.

  “Sorry Jahrhead, but we have another path to take. Good luck!” Rallick gave him a salute as he took off after Stade and Taygar.

  Jahrys ducked from a blast that almost took his head off. He crouched down on one knee, whipping out his Captor. He clenched his finger down on the top trigger and fired a shot out towards the five Hoarders. He hit the Hoarder farthest to the left in the chest and the Hoarder stumbled to the ground. Jahrys fired another—missed. The four remaining Hoarders were thirty yards from the opening now. Jahrys fired again, but when he pressed down on the trigger, his Captor hissed.

  He was out. His Captor needed to be recharged.

  Jahrys clipped his Captor to his hip and sprinted after Elyara and Kevrin.

  When Jahrys caught up to his two friends, the path curved to the right and then back to the left, giving them some cover from the Hoarders. The path straightened out and they ran and ran and ran until Jahrys slammed hard into Kevrin.

  Jahrys groaned. “What’s going on? We need to keep moving.”

  “It’s a dead end,” Elyara said flatly.

  Jahrys looked over Kevrin’s shoulder and saw Elyara pointing down to the Farrest Sea. They were at the edge of High Point—at the edge of the cliffs.

  Images of the cliffs popped into Jahrys’s head when he had visited the Sandy Shore years before. They were at least a hundred and fifty feet high, with sharp rocks protruding out like fingers at the base of the cliff. He never thought he would ever be on the other side, looking down at the Sandy Shore. If they jumped, they could easily hit the rocks. And if they miraculously avoided them, the rough water would throw them into the rocks, or suck them down into the darkness, drowning them.

  “What do we do?” Elyara asked desperately.

  “Do we fight?” Kevrin asked.

  “We only have one Captor. Mine is out and we don’t have time to recharge it. They’ll kill us if we fight.” Jahrys didn’t know what to do. His head was pounding. The Hoarders would be around the bend any second now.

  “What do we do?” Kevrin asked.

  There was only one thing they could do.

  “We have to jump.” Jahrys knew he sounded crazy saying it.

  “Jump? Are you mad?” Kevrin shouted, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

  “He’s right,” Elyara agreed. “We’ll die if we try fighting. But there might be a chance if we jump.” Elyara was trying to be brave. She knew the chances were slim.

  “Does anyone else see how far that drop is?” Kevrin pointed towards the rough water below.

  “We have to,” Jahrys placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Jump out far and stay clear of the rocks. Make sure to hit the water feet first and swim up as soon as you can.” He turned to Elyara. “We should take our Captor Packs off. We don’t want the extra weight pulling us down.”

  Kevrin helped Elyara and Jahrys unclip their Captor Packs and helmets.

  “What about the bags?” Kevrin asked.

  “I’ll carry mine,” Jahrys said. He couldn’t lose Lily’s necklace.

  “You can let go of mine,” Elyara said. “I don’t need it.”

  Kevrin handed Jahrys his bag and threw Elyara’s to the side. They both tied their bags around their waist, making sure they were secure.

  Jahrys saw Kevrin shaking. “It will be o—”

  “Look out!” Kevrin spun Jahrys around and pinned him against the junk wall.

  A blast zipped past them and exploded at Elyara’s feet, sending her off the cliff.

  “NO!” Kevrin yelled.

  “Come on.” Jahrys pushed Kevrin towards the cliff. “Jump!”

  Kevrin sprinted and jumped.

  Jahrys didn’t hesitate. He ran into the cloud of debris and leaped, feeling his legs leave the earth and his stomach drop as he fell into the cold darkness below.

  Chapter 18

  Jahrys

  IT WAS DARK. He searched for a sign of light. But there was nothing. Am I dead? He very well could be. But he never thought death would be like this. Wasn’t there supposed to be light? Wasn’t it supposed to be warm and happy? He could have sworn he would be in a land far past the Western Mountains, where there was no humidity, no stormy season, and the grass was green for miles on end. He would see his parents smiling and waving at him as they greeted him.

  But there was no one here and this place was not green, nor was it warm and happy. It was dark and cold. A cold Jahrys had never felt in his life.

  Feeling came to his fingers as he realized he was lying on a floor. He traced the outline of the flooring. Is this tile? he wondered as his index finger traced around a square.

  He stood up. His body was shivering; he realized he was naked. He wrapped his arms around himself as he took a cautious step forward in the darkness and then another.

  Something hit his waist. He reached his hands out and felt something smooth. A table? Where am I?

  A blinding light suddenly overcame the darkness.

  When it began to fade, he realized where he was. I’m in a kitchen—my kitchen.

  Thump.

  Something hit the floor in the darkness.

  Thump.

  Jahrys heard it again. He crawled underneath the table, hiding. He hugged his knees into his chest and kept silent underneath the table. He was too scared to move.

  He suddenly heard something sliding along the floor. It sounded like a heavy bag being dragged. He felt his heart thumping in his chest. Heavy breathing echoed around him. He thought it was from him, but he realized the breathing was coming from the darkness ahead.

  The sound of something scraping the marble tile sent shivers down his spine.

  Screeeeeeech.

  Screeeeeeech, Screeeeeeech.

  Something was crawling towards him. And it sounded like there was more than one. His eyes still hadn’t adjusted and it was still too dark to see in front of him.

  Screeeeeeech.

  It was getting closer. Jahrys didn’t know what to do or where to go; he was frozen.

  A streak of moonlight filled the room.

  Then he saw them.

  Two bodies were crawling across the kitchen floor toward him, their fingernails scraping the tile floor. The left body had long hair: a woman. The other he made out to be a man. They were naked. Their ski
n was white, and their eyes were bottomless pits. He could not make out their faces, but deep down he had a sickening feeling he knew them—his parents. A crow sat on top of the woman, ripping at the flesh of her neck, but she didn’t seem to feel it.

  Then, he heard a voice. “She is coming for you, O’Jahrys Grent.” It was a high, chilling voice. It seemed to be coming from the woman, but her lips did not move. The sound of tearing flesh grew louder as the crow and the woman came closer.

  “Who?” he yelled out into the darkness. “Who is coming for me?”

  “The Dark One has a plan for you, O’Jahrys Grent.” The voice echoed throughout the room, high and scratchy, cold, lifeless.

  They were almost upon him now. Their cold, white lips moved as they both repeated in unison. “The Dark One has a plan for you, O’Jahrys Grent.”

  The voices were getting louder and louder. He tried to close his eyes. To shut it all out. But it only made it worse. The room began to shake. The tile shifted beneath him and a chair that was tucked underneath the table banged against his head. He heard knives clattering against the tabletop and plates shattering on the floor.

  “She will not rest until she has you, O’Jahrys Grent!” They screamed it this time, their cold voices urgent. They kept repeating their warning as the world around him shook.

  Suddenly the room was filled with complete darkness, and Jahrys saw nothing. All he heard was the sound of screeching fingernails, the voices of the two lifeless bodies, the crow ripping at his mother’s flesh, and the sound of a Captor. It was all bouncing around the kitchen. Jahrys tried to cover his ears, but it was no use. It was as if the sound was coming from inside his head. He closed his eyes.

  Screeeeeeech.

  VHRUUUUMMMM.

  Screeeeeeech.

  VHRUUUUMMMM.

  When he opened his eyes, the bodies were gone. In place of the bodies was a person dressed in a black robe standing over him, holding a black staff. The person’s face was a dark shadow. The figure raised the staff, pointing a sphere towards Jahrys. A dark smoke swam inside the glass.

  Jahrys was petrified. There was nowhere to run; he was trapped, frozen. All he could do was watch as the dark smoke shot out from the sphere towards his body, and the world around Jahrys disappeared as he fell back into darkness.

  His eyes shot open. Jahrys leaned over and threw up the water that congested his lungs. His blurred vision began to focus. He was on a shore bank. The golden sand was hard beneath his body. His helmet was gone. All he heard was the sound of waves, crashing like thunder around him. He could feel his legs still in the water as a wave crashed over him. His chest was on fire. When the water receded back, he crawled forward, getting as far away as possible from the shore break. He collapsed onto the sand.

  He felt the pain return to his left shoulder as the salt water bit into the wound. Jahrys looked over and saw a graze in his suit where the blast had hit him.

  He tried to recall what happened.

  All he remembered was running and jumping off High Point. After the jump, all Jahrys remembered was the dream. Who was the Dark One that was coming for him? He must have hit his head on a rock.

  His hands suddenly shot down to his waist in panic. Relief flooded his body as his hands found the bag still tied around his waist. He dug his hand into the bag, fumbling around the soggy food, and Riago’s knife, until his hand wrapped around the necklace. Jahrys let out a deep breathe. I didn’t lose it. He pulled it out and clutched it to his chest. By Zalus, thank you.

  He placed the necklace back in the bag and looked around. Kevrin…Elyara…his friends had been with him. Where are they?

  When Jahrys’s hearing returned, he heard someone yelling to his right.

  “No. NO!”

  Jahrys turned his head to see Kevrin hunching over Elyara; his helmet was also missing, but his bag was still tied around his waist. Jahrys struggled to his feet, coughing up seawater as he rose. His knees shook beneath him as he stumbled over to his friends. He placed a hand on Kevrin’s hunched back.

  “Elyara!” Kevrin yelled. “Come back to me. Please come back to me.” He had her rolled over to her side with her mouth open as he desperately patted her back, trying to get the water out of her lungs.

  Elyara’s once dark skin was pale and lifeless. Her wet hair was coated in yellow-crusted sand, and there was a deep gash on the back of her head.

  “NO, ELYARA!” Kevrin screamed in pain. “BREATHE! Just…just breathe!” Tears were falling down his face. He pulled her close to his body, cradling her as his body shook.

  Jahrys began to cry. He squeezed Kevrin’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Kevrin. But…she’s gone. She was probably gone before she even hit the water.” He said, indicating the wound on her head.

  “I’m going to kill him.” The veins in Kevrin’s neck were bulging. “We could have been far away from those Hoarders if it wasn’t for Rallick.”

  “I know. But there’s nothing we can do now. We have to get back to The Arcalane.” Jahrys knew the Hoarders would find them soon enough.

  “Help me bury her, Jahrys. Like the old way. I don’t want to burn her body.” Kevrin stared at him hopelessly.

  “I’ll help you.” Jahrys gave Kevrin a rub on his shoulder.

  It took several hours to dig a grave with their bare hands. They had picked a spot under a tree by the shoreline. They lifted her body and lowered her down into the grave. Tears fell down both their cheeks as they covered their fallen teammate.

  They stood together, reminiscing about old times from before the Hoarding and their times as Retrievers.

  Jahrys wiped a tear from his eye. “If only we took the diary from Rallick, then her death wouldn’t have been for nothing.”

  Kevrin grabbed his damp bag and fumbled through it. He took out the diary, presenting it to Jahrys.

  Jahrys’s eyes lit up. “How—how did you…?”

  “I took it right out of Rallick’s hand as we were running,” Kevrin gave a small smile. “I’m still going to give him a piece of my mind next time I see him. Here…” Kevrin handed Jahrys the diary. “I don’t want to look at it anymore.”

  Jahrys held the diary out in front of him as if it was a delicacy. It was white with golden hinges, just like the picture Riago had given them.

  Jahrys flipped through the pages. It was soaked. The writing was smudged and unreadable. Riago is not going to like this, thought Jahrys.

  “How?” was all Jahrys managed to say.

  Kevrin let out a long, deep sigh. Jahrys could tell that this was painful for him. But he needed to know how it happened.

  “Well,” Kevrin began, “when I took the watch last night, I went outside on the back porch to get a little air. I heard some yelling coming from the other side of the wall, past the courtyard.” He paused to take a sip out of his waterskin. “I followed the voices. I took the path between the walls that brought me around the corner into an opening. That’s where I saw them: Hoarders.

  “They were just sitting around in a circle, talking to each other and laughing, having a good time. So I crept in, silently. I hid behind a broken cart.

  “There were five of them. I was pretty close, maybe twenty feet away. I could see their Captor Packs lined up behind their circle. One of the packs began to shake and beep; the yellow light on the back spiraled in a circle. The Hoarder closest to it said, ‘Ah, finally done. I’ll take care of this one.’ He left the circle and clipped on his pack as he walked over to the wall of debris close to my right. He raised his Captor up to the sky and yelled, ‘Hey! Let’s see how high I can get this one.’ The other Hoarders all turned around to watch. He pressed down on the top and bottom triggers on the handle and a junk block flew out of the Captor. He pressed the triggers again and another block popped out.

  “The blocks arched up into the sky. The first junk block must have landed on top of the wall. But the second block didn’t quite make it, and it came crashing down, shattering into pieces. I had to duc
k to avoid being hit as debris landed all around me. I suddenly heard a thump to my left. When I looked over, I saw it—the diary! It must have been compacted in that second block that shattered on the way down.

  “I looked back to see if anyone was watching. The Hoarders were all busy applauding the Hoarder in front of me for shooting the first block all the way up to the top of the wall. ‘Let’s see you all beat that,’ the Hoarder said as he walked back to the circle. While they all were distracted, I reached over and grabbed the book. It matched the description Riago had given us, so I put it in my bag and crept my way back towards the path. I only made it two feet when I stepped on a piece of wood that snapped in half. I didn’t stop to look back to see if they had heard. I just ran.”

  Jahrys flipped through a few more of the soggy pages. “This is going to be worthless. Riago will not like this.”

  “I don’t give a damn what Riago thinks about the diary. He better accept it after what it has cost us.” Kevrin said angrily, giving Jahrys a stern look.

  “We won’t let this go to waste, don’t worry.” Jahrys handed the diary back to Kevrin.

  But Kevrin refused. “You take it. I don’t want it around me.”

  Jahrys placed the diary into his bag and then took out some cloth to wrap their wounds.

  “We better wrap ourselves up tightly so we don’t get our cuts infected on our journey back.” Jahrys handed Kevrin the cloth. Kevrin took it and began to wrap up Jahrys’s shoulder. Once he was done, Jahrys wrapped up Kevrin’s arm.

  As he was wrapping Kevrin’s arm, Jahrys said, “Remember my parents used to take us just south of here? Before the Hoarding?”

  That brought a smile to Kevrin’s face. “Your father cramped up in the water and we had to go out and save him.” He laughed.

  Jahrys laughed, too. “He kept shouting and shouting for help, and when we got out there, the water was only three feet deep.”

  They both laughed for what seemed like a long time. But that happiness faded when Jahrys looked around again. Junk walls rose up high around the cliffs of High Point. There were even junk walls protruding off shore into the Farrest Sea. The trees around the Sandy Shore were dead, the sand was hard and crusty, and the air was heavy and stale.