Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  Copyright © 2018 Alia Hess

  All rights reserved.

  ~ Acknowledgements ~

  I would like to thank the following people for their contribution to this novel and the Travelers Series:

  Torin Bierwag, who amuses me to no end by randomly quoting bits of Corvin and Sasha’s dialogue and is entertained by my character voices.

  Essa Hansen, who has walked all of these abandoned roads with me, provided masterful critiques, and given me unflagging support in my art and writing.

  Sera Taíno, beacon of encouragement and insight, whose deep connection to the characters (especially her Sashabear), helps me know when I’ve gotten things right.

  Konstantina Bakavelou, head of cult HR, for her fierce support and hilarious observations.

  Harlow C. Fallon, my post-apocalyptic spirit sister, for her encouragement and laser-focused edits.

  Sunyi Dean, for her thoughtful comments and enthusiasm for my art and series.

  Jennifer Lane, for championing this series and helping me squeeze every last drop of humanity onto the page.

  Darby Harn, for his keen eye for world-building, practicality, and ensuring things feel realistic.

  Cassie Greutman, who always spots the elusive errors and helps me keep Sasha true to his Russian roots.

  Melissa McNeice, for her enthusiastic support and thorough read-throughs.

  Taryn Stroud, Monica Iliff, and Michael Sherrin: brave new travelers willing to venture into the unknown.

  My friends and family, for their interest in my endeavors and putting up with their Facebook feeds spammed with my art and book teasers.

  And to you, reader, for making it this far into the journey. The path ahead is dark and uncertain, but we have familiar hands to hold along the way. C’mon, we have a trip to take.

  ~ Contents ~

  World History

  Character Glossary

  1 Trouble in Paradise

  2 Aftermath

  3 Machinations

  4 Departure and Distractions

  5 New Frontier

  6 Beast

  7 Slag Village

  8 Dorhn’li

  9 Nothing Happen

  10 Holy

  11 Dinner and a Confession

  12 Pink

  13 Storm

  14 Wolves

  15 The Cult

  16 Korova

  17 Sermon

  18 Dandelions and Drones

  19 Bracelets from Bones

  20 God by Proxy

  21 Wolfwater

  22 Rainbows after Storms

  Epilogue

  ~ World History ~

  In Year 0 (2044), North American Hemorrhagic Shock (NAHS), killed off all but the immune 1% of the Americas, and the continent was closed off from the rest of the world, which was uninfected. This is known as The Collapse. America slowly rebuilt and repopulated over the next century and a half.

  The Northwest is dotted with farming communities and caravan routes. Cadestown is a western trading mecca, welcoming tired travelers and distributing homespun wares to far-reaching locales. Lawless scrub desert dominates the spaces between towns, and unlucky travelers are often ambushed by highwaymen or ill-intentioned strangers.

  Off the coast of Oregon is a chain of volcanic islands called the Pearlollans. The Islanders only travel to Mainland America for their naming quests, and prefer to keep to themselves. Though historically xenophobic, the climate of the Islands has grown more welcoming of Mainlanders over the years.

  Vast seas of creeping sugar corn overwhelm the midwest, known as the East. The city of Hammerlink is a smog-spewing center of industry, populated by factories and newborn technologies. Orphan slavery is legal here, and slave owners (Bosses) often use child labor in their factories, or own children for sexual exploitation.

  The North and South are uncharted territories flanking America, populated by superstition and myth.

  Not far from the northwest coast sat the research facility of Priyut, run by a team of Russian scientists. They had created a closely-guarded experimental vaccine for NAHS, allowing them to be the first foreigners to step foot in America in one hundred and fifty-two years. Several years later, the head viral epidemiologist, Dr. Krupin, dropped the virus on Russia in a maniacal plan to cleanse the world and protect America from a potential takeover by a foreign country. The virus spread to the rest of the world, killing all but 1% of the population, as it had in America over a century before. Priyut has since burned to the ground.

  ~ Character Glossary ~

  Owl Melonvine

  Grew up in a farming community in NW America. She endured physical abuse from her ex-husband, killed him, and fled into the desert. After falling from a hill and injuring herself, she met Trav.

  With a slaver army burning towns and enslaving communities (including Owl’s), she and Trav decided to return to his native island of Nis. They endured prejudice but eventually warmed the hearts of the Islanders. They have one son together, Son of Owl, and Owl considers the island her home.

  Aleksandr “Sasha” Roborovskiy

  Originally from Russia. Came to America with a team of scientists for a start at a new life. Expert with computers and technology, he was in charge of flying surveillance drones. He accidentally started a cult after himself when he assassinated the leader of a slaver army, and many people now consider him a god.

  Unable to stop Dr. Krupin from dropping the NAHS virus on Russia and plagued with guilt, he fled the research facility. He experienced heart failure from vaccine side effects and now has a pacemaker. After beating alcoholism and his inner demons, he moved to the island of Nis and married Dusty.

  Corvin Melonvine

  Owl’s older brother. He was held captive and tortured by highwaymen at the age of sixteen. After escaping, he became a wealthy clothing designer and artist in the Eastern city of Hammerlink. He owned orphan slave children who worked in his factories. Though prone to violence and bouts of instability, Sasha befriended him and convinced him to set all his slaves free. Corvin moved to the island of Nis to be close to his sister, and fell in love with fellow traveler, Dewbell.

  Roadtraveler “Trav”

  Native to the island of Nis. He was treated as a pariah by many Islanders for being albino. After wandering the Mainland for three years, unable to complete his naming quest, he met and fell in love with Owl. They returned to Nis, where Trav received his name (Roadtraveler) and had one son with Owl.

  Dessantia “Dusty” Roborovskiy

  Was sold into slavery at the age of five in the city of Hammerlink. She escaped at seven, where she was taken in by an older teen living in a gang in the ruins. Dusty eventually became a teenage prostitute. She saved all of her money to buy the freedom of other slave-orphans in the city.

  After meeting and falling in love with Sasha, she gave up prostitution, and they moved to the Islands to be close to their friends.

  Dewbell Black

  Grew up in the trade city of Cadestown. After contracting meningitis at thirteen, she became deaf and now communicates via sign language or writing things down. She can read lips. She has clinical depression and used to self-harm. After the death of her husband, she became an armed escort and met Sasha during her travels. She and other escort members were hired by Corvin for protection as he traveled to Nis. She fell in love with him and decided to stay on the island.

  Gentlewave

  Originally from the island of Nis, but left as a young adult due to the previous Elder’s homophobia. He lived in the Eastern city of Hammerlink for many years, doing factory work, until joining a party of armed escorts. He became best friends with Dewbell, and is fluent in sign language. After accompanying Corvin to Nis, he decided to stay on his native island for good. He’s in a relationship with Trav’s c
ousin, Mothwing.

  Quietbird

  Cousin to Trav and Elder of the island of Nis. Seeing rampant hostility and bigotry on the island as a child (especially toward Trav, because of his albinism), he vowed to become Elder some day and change the judgmental atmosphere of the island. When someone on the island does something particularly heinous, his brothers will quietly “take care” of the person, though Quietbird denies involvement.

  Mothwing

  Trav’s cousin and older brother to Quietbird. Jovial and gentle, he is faint hearted and abhors conflict. He’s in a relationship with Gentlewave and dislikes being without his company.

  Anise Lamb

  Founder of The Followers of Sasha. After Sasha assassinated the leader of a slaver army and freed Anise’s aunt and others from imprisonment, Anise started a cult for Sasha and his drones, which eventually developed into an organized religion with churches in many Northwestern towns. Sasha has visited her with his drone on several occasions.

  1

  ~ Trouble in Paradise ~

  Sasha had once found Dusty’s signature scowl endearing—the way her pillowy lips pursed, dimples forming in her round cheeks. With her brows drawn together over her big amber eyes, she looked like she could take on the world. But recently, the scowl was always directed at him, and accompanied by a stream of complaints.

  He stood before the bedroom window, tugging on a striped tee shirt. “What is wrong now, baby?”

  “I’m so tired of picking your wet towel up off the bed. How hard is it to remember to hang it back up again?” Dusty jabbed a finger at the towel, and Sasha had a sudden image of her swatting him on the nose with a newspaper like a naughty dog.

  He snatched the towel and skulked to the bathroom, rubbing his damp curls. “You are never happy, you know? ‘Sasha, you stink. Go take shower.’ So I take shower, but then you yell at me about towel.”

  Stop complaining. You’ll only make it worse. You can’t win an argument with her.

  Dusty put her hands on her hips. “Before we got married, you said you’d need reminders on that sort of thing, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m reminding you.”

  You’ve got a nasty way of doing it. “Okay. I am sorry. I will remember to put towel away when I am done. I don’t want to fight.”

  She sighed dramatically. “This isn’t a fight. I just get frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you a hundred times.”

  “Sorry.” Sasha slid his arms around her waist and her frown softened. He gave her a slow kiss, inhaling her floral perfume. “Maybe I have way to make you feel better, huh?”

  She pulled away and looked at the floor. “I’m not in the mood.”

  A knot tightened in his chest. “You have not been in mood for, like, two weeks now. We used to do it all the time, baby. What is happening?”

  “Nothing’s ‘happening’. I just haven’t felt like it, okay?”

  And you think you’re frustrated. Sasha smacked his chest. “There is something wrong with me? I am getting little bit belly now that we are living island life and you are not attracted anymore?”

  Dusty sat on the bed and plucked a dried wildflower from a vase on the side table. She turned it between her fingers, face pinched. “That’s not it.”

  “Or maybe you think I am bad husband because I forget to do thing you nag me about, and this is how you punish me?”

  She slapped the flower on the table and several petals crumbled, the pieces fluttering to the floor. “I’m not nagging you, and I’m not punishing you! I’m sorry you’re so horny that you need sex every five minutes—”

  “You used to like that about me! I am starting to think maybe lot of stuff about me you don’t like anymore.”

  “You’re reading too much into this. There’s nothing wrong with our relationship!”

  Sasha clenched his jaw. “Really? Then why are we both shouting right now? I think something is very wrong and you don’t want to tell me.”

  Dusty’s mouth trembled and a tear rolled down her cheek. Strands of her auburn hair had come loose from her ponytail. He ached to kiss away that tear and run his fingers through her hair, but she’d just pull away again.

  He drew his finger down a crack in the glaze on the clay wall. Dusty’s sniffling was unnaturally loud in the still room. Opening his mouth again would surely make things worse, but something was going on, and he couldn’t just drop it. “You got some secret you are hiding from me?”

  “No.”

  “You find somebody else? Is that why you don’t want me?”

  “Am I trading again is what you’re asking, huh? Once a whore, always a whore?”

  Sasha put up his hands. “Whoa. Wait. I never said that. I would never call you that, baby. I don’t even like that word. What is wrong with you?”

  “Me? What the hell is wrong with you?” Tears ran down her face. “You know what? Just get out.”

  Sasha’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  “Get out. I can’t deal with you right now.”

  His nostrils flared and hands quivered. Is this what they had become after only three months of marriage? He loved her to death, but every spark started a fire, and not the kind he needed.

  “That sounds like great idea. I am leaving. And don’t stay awake for me, because I am not coming back tonight!”

  Sasha whirled, striding out of the room and stomping down the curved staircase. A hard lump rose in his throat and he wiped his nose. All of this was stupid. Was she really mad just because he left a towel on the bed? Where had the honeymoon days gone? There’d been mornings spent cuddling under the covers in soft-toned conversation; sipping coffee in the kitchen as light poured through the stained glass window, projecting rainbows onto the floor; plucking shells from wet sand on the beach; and nights where Dusty dressed in her transparent and beaded wedding lingerie solely so he could enjoy stripping it off of her.

  They used to fight sometimes, even in the year before getting married, but it was usually half-hearted and done with the intention of getting the other riled up just enough to have hot makeup sex afterward. This fight was something else entirely.

  Well, she doesn’t want me here right now? I’m happy to go. I’ll grab Corvin and we’ll find something fun to do.

  Sasha pulled on his sandals, then flung open the front door. Sobs drifted from upstairs. He dug his nails into his fist, heart aching. If he were a better husband, he would know how to fix this. If he were a better husband, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. But he was Sasha, and he’d screwed something up again.

  He slammed the door behind him.

  Tall torches lined the paved main street of Cowrie, flickering in the warm fall breeze. The aroma of roasted fish mingled with dank vegetation and ocean salt. The scent of sea spray was usually soothing, but did little to quell Sasha’s frustration now.

  Groups of Islanders passed by. A woman flipped one long black braid over her onyx shoulder and smiled, exposing sharp, filed teeth.

  Sasha tugged on the sleeve of Corvin’s button-up shirt. “Okay, man. You been here more times than me. What can we do that is fun?”

  A palette of sunset colors shone on Corvin’s perfectly styled hair as he looked around. “Well, I’d suggest we go get a drink and talk about this some more, but you can’t do that.”

  Sasha sidestepped a merchant thrusting bunches of ginger root in people’s faces. “I don’t want to talk about my problems no more right now.” He frowned. “I really do want drink, but I’m not going to mess up just because I have fight. I can have fun without getting drunk.”

  They passed kiosks of colorful glazed pottery and crowded food stalls. Grease sizzled on marinated meat kebabs, thick lengths of noodles hung from wooden dowels, and fermented minnow viscera gave off a nose-wrinkling aroma.

  Corvin pulled a handful of small wooden cylinders—Island currency known as “pegs”—from the pocket of his tight trousers and shouldered through people, coming back with four kebabs. He passed one to Sasha. “Ma
ybe you and Dusty need more time apart. You know, Dewbell and I have separate parts of the house. And separate bedrooms.”

  “That don’t sound very romantic.”

  “No, it’s great. We eat dinner together almost every evening, and sometimes she sleeps in my bed and sometimes I sleep in hers.” Corvin took a bite. “God, I love street food. I could eat ten of these things.”

  Sasha eyed Corvin’s tall, svelte frame. “You eat everything but you are so skinny. I always been scrawny, but I am getting belly now, and I think Dusty don’t like.” He rubbed his face. “Why am I still talking about this? I want to go do something. C’mon.”

  They pushed through the crowd, turning onto a less-populated dirt side street, packed down and studded with footprints and trampled weeds. Modest boutiques with warped glass display windows ran along one side, racks of goods with discount price tags arranged out front. A man sat in the grass in a side alley, strumming a guitar.

  Corvin stopped before a shop window and sucked in a breath. “Look at these clothes!” He leaned toward Sasha. “They’re hideous.”

  Sasha snorted and threw his bare kebab skewer in the trash.

  Corvin grabbed his arm. “Let’s go inside. I want to see how scratchy and poorly stitched they are.”

  Sasha sighed. Not really what I had in mind for fun.

  The tiny boutique reeked of incense and stale scorpion leaf. Racks of shapeless clothing in muted colors filled one side of the room. The garments certainly didn’t have the silky texture of Nisian fabric or the meticulous attention to detail Corvin’s line had.

  “Sasha, is that you?”

  He turned around. An unfamiliar Islander stood in the doorway, hands on his hips and a grin on his face. His gaze went to Corvin. “And… Melonvine, right? I’m sorry. I don’t remember your first name.”