Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  There’s no way I can stop—

  Gentlewave fired his revolver, hitting the creature in the shoulder. It shuddered and batted at its arm, snarling and whirling around. It strode his way, its massive arms swinging at its sides. Gentlewave squeezed off several more shots and the monster staggered, whimpering and clutching its chest. It backed up, its eyes rolling toward Dusty. It took a long stride toward her, reaching out, and Dusty crawled backward, mouth agape.

  “I-Irina—strelyat’!”

  The drone emitted a spray of bullets in a fanning turn, nicking trees, rocks, and low-hanging Old World items. Gentlewave shoved Mothwing to the ground, throwing himself on top of him.

  He looked back. “Get down!”

  Owl pushed Dusty into the dirt, lying beside her as the chunk-chunk-chunk of the drone continued. The beast screamed and bullets whined past; splinters of wood exploded from the evergreens and rained down on them. Owl pressed her face into the ground. A baby doll fell into the leaves beside her.

  Gentlewave shouted. “Dusty, tell it to stop before you kill us all!”

  “Irina! Khvatit!”

  The firing stopped. Owl sat up. The drone hovered, its guns pointed at them, and beside it, the creature lay in a heap, dark splotches of blood soaking its matted, mossy fur. Dusty peeked up, then stood. Leaves and dirt covered her pink coat.

  Gentlewave pulled Mothwing to his feet, brushing pine needles from his cloak, then took a step toward the beast, pushing at it with his sandal. His gaze went to Dusty.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you put that drone back into stealth mode? Those guns are making me really nervous. That could have killed someone.”

  Dusty’s bottom lip pulled up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell it to shoot just the monster or what direction it should point.” She spoke a command in Russian and the guns retracted into the drone, then it disappeared.

  “I would have shot it sooner, but my gun malfunctioned. Damn case head separation.”

  Owl frowned and pointed to a hole in the shoulder of Dusty’s puffy coat. Small down feathers stuck out in a tuft. “Did you get shot?”

  “No.” Dusty unzipped the coat and patted her shoulder. “Almost, though.”

  Owl leaned close and whispered. “The baby get hurt? Did you fall on your stomach?”

  “No. I’m fine. He’s fine.”

  She hugged Dusty. “I think now I know why I felt like something was watching us. I think that thing hated your coat.”

  “Or loved it,” Mothwing added. “Now if everyone will excuse me, I need to go change my underwear.” He paused. “No jab at me, Dusty?”

  “No. That thing was scary. And it stinks.” She walked to the beast and bent down, face pulled into disgust as she examined it. “What the hell is this thing? It looks kind of like a monkey.”

  “What’s a monkey?” Owl skirted around the dead creature, holding her nose to ward off the awful musk emanating from it.

  “Um…” Dusty rubbed her chin. “It’s an animal. I saw it in a picture book in the East. I thought it looked funny because its face and hands were kind of like a person, but it was really hairy and had a long tail. But this thing is huge. Ugh. Look at its teeth.”

  Mothwing picked up a branch and slid it under the creature’s arm, lifting it and squinting at its hand. He wrinkled his nose and dropped the branch. “Do you think there are more?”

  Gentlewave nodded as he inserted bullets into the chambers of his revolver. “Certainly. You can’t have just one of something. But I think if they traveled in packs we’d be dealing with more than just one right now. Hopefully this was a lone stalker.”

  Owl closed her eyes and stood still. “I think I’m too wound up right now to tell if something is still watching us.”

  Gentlewave holstered his gun and sighed. “Dusty, you laugh loud enough for anything to hear you a mile away. I hate to say this, but you need to be quieter from now on, okay?”

  Dusty pursed her lips. “Sorry.” She picked up the tablet on the ground, showing Owl the smashed screen. “And I’m sorry about this too.”

  Owl’s stomach dropped. “Does it turn on?”

  Dusty pushed the button on the side, but the shattered screen remained black. She shook her head.

  “Shit.” Trav and Muffin. Staring at that broken screen, she was suddenly bobbing in the ocean without a course or heading. Untethered and adrift.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know that thing was going to come out of the trees and—”

  “Of course not.”

  Dusty brushed dirt from the screen and scraped her fingernail along the cracks, dislodging debris. Her voice wavered. “All Sasha’s pictures and videos are gone now. There were… photos of us on there. From when we were first together. Pictures of me pushing Sasha in a shopping cart when he got lightheaded from his weak heart.” Tears rolled down her face. “Pictures of us kissing in an old theater in Fortland. And there was this one photo, when Sasha was in the hospital after his heart surgery. He had this scraggly beard, and he was pointing to the scar on his chest with a big thumbs up. It’s the dumbest picture, but…”

  “Maybe you should hang onto the tablet. Sasha might be able to fix it. And if not, I’ll take some new pictures of you guys.” Owl pulled off her backpack and retrieved her camera, the burnished brass casing cold and heavy in her hands. “Look, we can start right now with a photo of this ugly thing. You can show Sasha when we get back.”

  “You brought that?”

  “Yeah. I really like taking pictures. I’m so glad Corvin sent this to me.” Owl bent toward the beast, staring into the thick glass top of the camera. She turned it until the creature’s wrinkled face filled the lens, then pushed the button. A glossy square of paper rolled from the camera’s base.

  Dusty wiped her face then peered at the photo. “I like your pictures. Well, maybe not this one, but the ones you take at home. I can actually hold them in my hands and hang them on the wall.” She sighed, then stuffed the broken tablet into her pack.

  Owl put an arm around her, suddenly wishing she had a big coat of her own husband’s to wrap around herself. Was that why Dusty wore it so much—other than hiding her protruding stomach? Did it smell like Sasha and make her feel like he was holding her?

  Trav’s going to be so worried when we don’t call tonight.

  Dusty stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I want out of these woods.”

  Owl nodded. “Me too.”

  October 09, 156—Not being able to talk to Trav for the past few nights was upsetting. And now I feel really bad because this is what Dusty has been dealing with for the past month. I wrote Trav a letter to let him know what happened, but I don’t know if it will be worth it to send it. I don’t know when I’m going to find a postman’s office, and by the time it gets to him, we’ll probably already be back home.

  We still have that creepy, being-watched feeling even though that creature is dead. Mothwing sticks to Gentlewave about as close as possible, and he’s always looking into the trees and listening for twigs snapping.

  Dusty and I hung out last night and talked. She still seems pretty unhappy about having a baby, despite collecting Old World toys and hiding them in her backpack, but at the same time, I can tell she wants to make sure “Sasha Jr.” is safe. The poor girl. She’s going through a lot right now. She should have stayed on Nis.

  7

  ~ Slag Village ~

  Sasha sat in a chair by the hut window; he clutched his letter for Dusty, the paper growing sweaty as he stared at Trav. “What you mean you can’t call them on tablet?”

  Trav shrugged his big shoulders. “I can’t. Tried for the past three days. I put my finger over the tamper sensor on the drone, but no one ever answers. Owl hasn’t tried calling at all. I’m—I’m hoping something happened to the tablet and not to her.” His brows pushed up, eyes filled with worry. “Is it easy for a tablet to get broken?”

  “Oh yeah.
Used to happen to me a lot in Russia. I would fall down when I was drunk with tablet in my pocket, or drop on floor or something. That is probably what happened. But…” Sasha squeezed the paper hard enough to make his hand cramp. “Can you take this letter for Dusty anyway? Just in case? I mean, they probably just forgot to recharge tablet and battery is dead.”

  Sasha’s face pinched. “I mean, probably, right?” He pressed the paper into Trav’s big palm. “Please take it for her.”

  “Of course.” Trav tucked it into his pocket. “Maybe they’ll call.”

  “Did Dusty like my letters you show her last week?”

  “Yeah. I feel like the dirty postman, but she seems to enjoy them, so I don’t mind.”

  Corvin sat on the floor, Dewbell in his lap. He stared into her eyes, combing his fingers through her hair.

  Sasha said, “Corvin, you wrote letter for Owl, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Trav held out his hand. “Well, give it to me and I’ll read it if they call again.”

  “I threw it away,” Corvin said.

  “Why?”

  “It wasn’t really… I don’t want to worry her. And she knows I love her. I’ll see her when she gets back.” He looked at Dewbell and silently mouthed words. She nodded and stood. Corvin glanced at them. “Dewbell and I are going to go find some place to be alone.”

  Sasha wiggled his eyebrows. “Have fun. You guys come back in less than twenty minutes and I am going to be disappointed in you, Corvin.”

  Corvin shot him a dirty look and left the hut with Dewbell.

  “I am worried about that guy,” Sasha said.

  “Did he do something else? Hurt someone else?” Trav asked.

  “No. He has been pretty happy lately. Which is maybe worse. And he keeps razor in his pocket all the time.”

  “Is that why you have a beard now?”

  Sasha chuckled and stroked his hairy chin. “No. Just lazy. I got razor too.”

  “Well, maybe you should carry yours around, just in case someone decides to break in again or hurt you. I do think that Corvin smashing that guy’s face into a mirror was pretty over-the-top—but you are in a jail. I’ve buried my hatchet into several skulls in the past. It wasn’t fun, but it was necessary.”

  That’s not hard for me to imagine, big guy.

  Trav said, “Now, if he tries to use that razor on you, that’s a completely different matter.”

  Sasha grimaced. “No, no. I don’t think Corvin could ever do that. Never hurt Dewbell either. I worried about that lots when we first meet him, but he always treat her good. As long as he got stuff to keep his mind busy, he is okay. Like this…” He stood from the table and grabbed a jacket hanging from a makeshift hook on the wall.

  The maroon leather jacket sported high shoulder pads and studs. An embroidered human skull sprouting flowers graced the back in multicolored thread. Tiny fish teeth ringed the embroidery, and lace peeked from the cuff edges.

  Trav raised his eyebrows. “Corvin is weird.”

  “He make this for himself. Gives him something to do, y’know?” Sasha hung the jacket back up and picked up another, this one black. Silky orange stripes covered the sleeves and straps with metal buckles hung from the front. Fish teeth ran along the high collar.

  “This one is mine. He showed me how to sew it. It’s not my favorite thing to learn, but was my idea because it give him distraction from thinking about this place.”

  “Well… that’s good.” Trav stared at the table. “Everything back on Nis is about the same, other than all the gossip is always about you guys. People are really upset about what happened. They’ve even boycotted coming here to Tam. I swear there are at least a couple of people at Quietbird’s every day asking him to do something about it.”

  “Quietbird already saved us from execute. Don’t think he can do more.”

  The doorknob jiggled and Sasha shook his head and grinned. “Disappointing, Corvin—”

  The door swung open, slamming into the wall and shaking the hut. A cold-eyed Islander with multiple face lacerations and a shiv clutched in one hand strode inside, then faltered as Trav turned.

  Sasha’s eyes widened and he gripped the table, leaning back in his chair.

  The man’s face grew harder as he scanned the hut. “Where’s that psycho with the weird clothes that hangs out around here?”

  Trav stood, his chair scraping across the floor. He approached the man, towering over him, and the man took a step back. Trav’s hand shot out and he grasped the man’s wrist and twisted. The intruder cried out in pain and dropped the shiv. Trav kicked it away, then leaned toward him, twisting his arm back a little more.

  The man groaned and squirmed. Sasha wasn’t sure whether to cheer or throw up. If Trav hadn’t been here… But who was this guy? Even with the wounds on his face, it was clear this man wasn’t the same man Sasha had met on the beach a week previous.

  We were threatened by two different men?

  Trav scowled, his soft voice laced with venom. “I see you again and you’re going to get more than a face full of mirror, understand?”

  He grimaced, nodding. Trav let go and the man backed into the wall, rubbing his wrist, then turned and ran out the door.

  Sighing, Trav turned from the doorway to Sasha. “You know where Corvin would go with Dewbell? One of the other huts, maybe? I don’t want that guy to find them.”

  Sasha stared at the shiv on the floor. “There is this little hut by cliff that has better view than here. I remember Corvin say it look romantic, but was too small for both of us. Maybe he go there. You going to tell him what happen?”

  “You don’t think I should?”

  Sasha shook his head. “He is happy right now. Feeling okay and with Dewbell. You tell him this guy come back to finish job, and it will make him upset again. I think is better to let him have good time.”

  Trav paused, then nodded. “You’re probably right. But I don’t want to run the risk of that guy finding them right now. I’m going to go keep an eye out.” He hung his head. “If I find them, I’ll just… stand guard until they’re done, I guess.”

  Sasha stood. “I will go be guard. I can watch for guy and if he comes, I can yell for you.”

  “No. I think you’d enjoy that too much.”

  “I am only giving offer as friend. Not to watch Corvin and Dewbell do it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sasha frowned and sat back down.

  “Just—stay here, Sasha. Lock the door. I’m going to look around the area. And when I get back to Nis, I’ll tell Quietbird what happened. I thought the guards were supposed to be looking out for you.”

  “Supposed to be. Don’t, though. Don’t do nothing but play cards and talk. Sometimes they walk around and look in huts, but they don’t really care what everybody do here. Most people are only here for few days, or maybe week, and then get took away. I think guards are mad they have to see us every day. They keep talking about how we are ‘spoiled’ because Dewbell always come to visit and bring us food—even though they take half of food for themselves before we get any. When we ask them for something, they just laugh and call us trashbillies. One of them yesterday tell me after I ‘die in prison,’ he hope they throw me in ocean and my body wash back to Mainland.”

  Trav furrowed his brows. “A guard said that to you?”

  “Yeah, you know fat, ugly one that is always at gate? Think he was joking, but wasn’t really that funny.” Sasha paused. “Hey, Trav, can I hire you as bodyguard? You can hang here with us and Corvin will teach you how to sew.” He gave a nervous laugh.

  Trav smiled, his disgruntled face growing soft. “Lock the door, okay?” He left the hut, shutting the door behind him.

  Sasha crossed the little room, locking the door and wedging a chair under the dented doorknob. He picked up the shiv—a rusty metal blade wrapped in cloth—then slid down the wall and sat, setting it beside him.

  The photo of Dusty and himself crinkled as he pulled it from
the inside of his shirt. He stared at it for a moment, then put a hand over his eyes and sucked in a breath. He stared again, trying to imagine running his fingers through Dusty’s soft hair and holding her warmth against him, not his bloated white corpse washing against a Mainland beach at low tide.

  He put the photo inside his shirt, pressing it to the long pale scar that ran down his chest, then whispered in Russian. “One more month. Maybe a bit more. Then we’ll be out of this hellhole and back to our lives. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder. My heart is beyond fond. Way beyond. This is no way to spend the first year of my marriage.”

  What if they didn’t have to stay here any longer, though? There were large pits high up the south cliff wall. What if they were tunnels? The cliff wouldn’t be too hard to climb to reach them. He and Corvin could escape, slip through the forests of Tam, and find a boat back to Nis.

  But that would lead to consequences. We have to stick it out here no matter how much it sucks.

  Someone knocked on the door. Trav’s soft voice was barely audible. “Hey, it’s me.”

  Sasha pulled the chair away from the door and opened it. Trav glanced behind him then entered the hut. “They’re coming back. I didn’t see where that guy went, but he didn’t hassle them. Did he come back here?”

  “No.” Sasha walked to the table and sat, sighing. Trav took the seat across from him.

  Corvin and Dewbell returned. Dewbell held Corvin’s hand and flashed Sasha a smile, the apples of her cheeks bright pink.

  Glad Trav hadn’t spoiled their mood by mentioning Mr. Cramming-cheesecake-in-his-pocket, Sasha smirked. “You have good time, baby?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Don’t ask her that. We don’t ask Dusty how her sex is with you.” Corvin kissed Dewbell’s temple. “You going home now, dear?”

  She nodded.

  “Thanks for bringing us lunch again. I think we’d starve without you.”

  Sasha pulled on the loose waistband of his jeans. “That still might happen.”

  Dewbell frowned and pulled a slip of paper from her dress. She wrote a note and handed it to Corvin. He said, “What groceries?”