by D E Dunn
After a moment the door opens a crack, a wide eye and a wrinkled face inquires if he can help me.
“I don't mean to bother you, I'm traveling and lost all of my food, do you have anything that you could spare?” I ask
“I’m sorry, no....” the gap of the door slowly begins to close, but then reopens, all of the way this time. A haggard old man, hunched over and scruffy holding onto it, his arms shaking.
He looks at me with confusion and fear. As though I am a baited trap that has materialized at his door.
He cringes for a moment as he tries to smile. “I mean, I'm sorry, I don't have anything here,..., but I'm going to an outpost for supplies, if you’d help me load, I'm sure I can spare something.”
I graciously accept his offer, and help him get the wagon. We travel with little small talk. A fearful old man, and a hungry girl in a wagon. Neither of us fully trusting each other. I don't have a choice, and by the look of him, I think he needs me as much as I need him.
We arrive at the outpost, a small collection of buildings circling a large yard, all of it surrounded by a poorly built and aging wooden wall. These outposts were built by the machinists along supply routes to keep the transport chain stocked and able, as well as supplying labor camps, far out farmers, and soldiers guarding the border. The outpost now nearly deserted as its purpose has been removed. The attendants are few, weak, and fearful. This was no place to be months ago much less now. Bandits and cult killers roam freely, and everyone is cut off from civilization. The workers left behind too poor or scared to leave.
The yard is nearly empty. The outpost has little to sell to the old man, a fact he tries to hide, but as I load his wagon, I can tell. It's much less than what he needs.
The journey back is a bit more lighthearted as we stop to eat a meager meal together. I ask why he stays so far out still. Supposedly he lived with his daughter when the machinists left. Like many others they didn't have the resources to leave. She hitched a ride with a supply caravan going to a large town. She was supposed to get money and come back for him, months later, she hasn't yet. He waits because he can't do anything else. He says he is sure she'll return, but you can see sorrow flash across his eyes as he considers that she might be dead. I hope for his sake that she didn't abandon him, he seems so nice, as most of the deep wood folk do.
He inquires about me, where I'm from, where I'm going. I don't hide the truth about my journey, his sad face somehow looking sadder when I tell him, and he does his best to warn against it in a non intrusive way.
The rest of the ride back was quiet, solemn, though we both wore smiles. Coming to a crossroads he drops me off, giving me a very small package of food, less than a single meal, but more than he should spare.
“you'll need something for the road, it's nothing really, but you won't starve.”
I take the package, thanking him and wishing him well, before leaving him, and walking down the road.
I hold back until the old man is out of earshot. Gazing upon the miniscule meal – I cry, so little, means so much to me.
Chapter 3
Monsters Among Men
Season – Summer's End
In life there lurks a blood lust. A demonic force from worlds beyond, always searching for a victim, looking for a mind to infect.
The thing taking us in trust and desperation...
Part 1
ROGUE
Sitting by the side of the road, the small meal long gone. My stomach feels as though it's caving in. My mind wanders.
“Are you OK?” a mans voice calls out suddenly.
I leap to my feet, I never even noticed him come up. Looking him up and down. A young man, dirty but dressed decently, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He smiles at me, opening his palms warmly, and displaying that he's not armed. I don't trust him, but I relax a bit.
“I'm fine” I state without emotion.
“Are you by yourself out here?” he asks.
“Are you?” I retort quickly.
“No, I've got friends”
“Where are they?” I ask, as I wonder to myself if this is it.
He smiles, “back at camp”
“Why would anyone camp out here?” I question.
“Anyone wouldn't, we're hunters. I answered your questions, care to answer mine?” He spits out in a quick manner.
“What?”
“What are you doing out here?” He asks with a calm voice again.
“passing through” I say quickly
“Passing through, this close to the edge of civilization?” he laughs.
“what do you want?” Any humor I had now long gone.
“I saw a girl doubled over on the side of the road, I wanted to make sure you were alright”
“I'm fine” I say annoyed.
“you look hungry” he says quickly.
We stare at each uncomfortably for a moment.
“I'm fine” I exclaim more sternly
“we've got food back at our camp, if you’d like to join us” He offers.
“I'll pass” I reply quickly.
“It's not good to be hungry out here, you need your strength”
I begin to turn down his offer again when my stomach cramps in pain.
“Are you armed?” - I ask after a moment of pause.
He pulls back his jacket to reveal a hunting knife - “are you?”
I shake my head “no” in the most convincing manner I can pull off.
“then maybe you'll come have something to eat, get some rest-”
“I might eat” I cut him off, I don't want to feel too friendly.
We walk together back to his camp and chat. He seems nice actually, and a bit flirty – though I try to ignore his advances.
We reach his camp. A small wagon on the edge of a handful of tents.
I do look forward to a good meal. As I step around the wagon blocking the road I hear a scream. Turning the corner I see a woman being held tightly by a man, her mouth covered, her face looking battered. I glance at the blonde hunter, our eyes meet for a moment as he smirks at me, his eyes shift behind me. 'It's a trick!' I think to myself as I start to turn and run when my head is grabbed from behind. Someone slams my face into the side of the wagon with tremendous force. They pull my hair tightly and push my face, running with blood, into the dirt.
“if you move I'll gut you!” a terrible voice growls.
I cry out, begging, as my face fills with pain, but my voice is muffled in the earth.
“that's right...you squeal piggy!” the voice chuckles.
I feel helpless against force for the first time, the feeling overwhelming as I try to grasp what's going on. Overpowered and afraid. The man holding me shifts my head as he holds it down, rubbing it into the ground before pulling me up. My body lying limp, dangling just above the earth by my hair. My injuries start to take hold as the world blurs out, and my hearing becomes muffled and graveled. I turn my head in a daze and get an unclear glimpse of the one holding me. The shadowed form of a short fat man. Glancing in the direction of the other voice, I see the fuzzy picture of the blonde man standing there, laughing. The feeling of betrayal, pain, and anger building within me.
'The dagger!' I think to myself among the confusion. Slowly I lift my hand, crawling carefully along my body. Listening intently for the tone of their voices. My finger bumps the pommel, the rest following, wrapping around the leather grip. I pull it quickly, feeling with my other hand along the fat mans leg before I thrust the dagger with all the force I have. I fight through the resistance as he screams, shoving the blade into him as deep as it can go. The man leaps in pain, yanking back hard on my hair pulling me towards him and then pulling hard in reverse, sending me flying like a rag doll. Weightless, until I land hard along the road.
Forcing myself up through the pain, I quickly leap to my feet. Seeing them for a brief moment before I turn and run. A deafening crack snaps the air behind me as something zips past my ear. The smoke fills the whole area, choking m
e and burning my eyes. 'He has a gun!?!?' I panic and duck, running twice as fast as before when I rise, dropping my pack to gain speed. Branches slap me in the face as I run deeper into the forest through ever growing thicket. I can make out muffled voices yelling behind me as they give chase. Stumbling blindly through the dense brush I lose my footing. Sliding off of the edge of a short steep drop, I land softly on a dirt hill, and roll down into the thick forest below.
The Great Border
Long ago, during the great war between the druids and the machinists of Valasia, the Mad Gods became angered when their followers began deserting them, and cut them down, rampaging against all men. During this time, the machinists harbored the druid survivors, and found a way to contain the Gods power. Certain energy generators could counteract the Gods power and influence. They erected a massive border and sealed them away in their lands. Since then tales of monsters and madmen attacking the border never seemed to cease. Though the official word was that the men and monsters were followers of the Gods, there were many rumors that the Gods could drive men insane and that the attacks were in fact border guards and mecha that wandered too close and had gone mad.
Whatever the case, the border has now been packed up. The soldiers, mecha, and wall, gone.
Part 2
Cruel
I run until I double over heaving out of breath. I wonder if they'll find me, or if they'll even look. I'm sure they will. They were having too much fun beating me to let me go, especially after I stabbed the one. 'Bastard deserved it', I think to myself as I tap my nose and wonder if he broke it, it hurts like hell. I wish I could have stabbed that other bastard too, laughing at me while I hurt. Taking joy in my pain, I can't believe I trusted him, I’m so stupid.
I know I have to get moving, walking slowly and carefully through the woods, I stop to listen on occasion. I push a large leafy branch out of my way with care, cringing and staring at it as it catches absolutely everything, grating, rustling, and making more noise than anything. As I finally get past the noisy branch I turn and nearly fall over, putting my hand over my mouth to contain a small scream. A body nailed to a tree, skinned and meaty, decaying in the sun. I step around it moving low and slow, keeping a careful eye on the corpse. It's so eerie. Passing the body I immediately regret continuing in this direction, to my horror, there are more. Some whole, some in pieces. Nailed, tied, and impaled throughout the landscape. Severed heads and limbs making symbols, maybe random, but writing in blood says sacrifice.
I guess the bandits must have done this, kidnapped and tortured villagers in tribute to their Mad Gods. I wonder for a moment if any of the bandits are here, gazing carefully for movement. I begin to move when I hear a gurgling behind me, and a choke. I don't even want to know, shaking as I turn. Someone's alive, and not in the good way. Their eyes missing, cuts all over their body, chained to a rudimentary rack. My stomach churns, the smell alone enough to make me vomit, I try to calm myself and step away. There's nothing I can do.
The sights bring a sense of confusion and dread. I find the carnage too different from my normal reality and question, what man could do this? What thing could do this? Inflict such pain, suffering, and death. Not only do it but like it. Have this gore bring joy to them. Surely it's the influence of Mad Gods, right? Could anyone with any humanity ever do something like this? Does this beast lurk within our nature? Could this darkness lay dormant in me? There's no way.
I should feel sad for these people here, dead, dying, and I am, but I’m more overcome with thankfulness. I guess I'm just so lucky, I could have been their next shrine.
Mechano Humanoids
The machinists have many advantages over other nations. Their machine driven industry and supply routes, their superior armed and armored warriors, and their machine guardians.
Beyond the automated cannons and ever watchful machine sentries, Mechano Humanoids, known commonly as Mecha. Machines with the appearance of men. They are made out of various metals and rare earth treasures. They move on their own, and are far stronger, and deadlier than any human. No one knows how they work, or if it's magic or technology that allows them to be, but they do share common functions. Mecha are broadcast energy from their cores, usually machine sentry towers. They are limited to a certain proximity of their power cores, and the strength of the core determines their range. Their only known weakness is multiple blasts from powerful long cannons, which are only made my the machinists. And their primary purpose is war. While other nations send their best men, the machinists send a handful of mecha who have time and time again disregarded human strength like it was nothing.
Over the years many have attempted to rebel and invade, all of them met with massacre at the hands of the immortal mecha.
Part 3
Heartless
As I wander through the forest, I come upon another clearing. This one filled with towering monoliths of machinists past. Huge towers of stone rubble engulfed by shrubs and vines. I stay steady at the edge, looking for any signs of life, before I slowly venture forth.
The area has a feeling of deep abandonment to it, the hollow breeze whistling through crevices of the piled stone blocks and scrap metal. Just as I begin to feel safe I feel it, a subtle pounding on my ear drum. No sound, just sense, then voices. 'They've found me!' I hurry through, twisting around the towering piles, searching for distance and refuge. My breath becomes heavy and strained. Tired and content, I crouch, my back against some stone, and listen.
My mind struggles when I hear voices all around. Are they surrounding me, do they know where I am, that I’m even here?
“what do we have here?” I make out faintly from the distance, no doubt picked up my trail.
I tip toe slowly and carefully through the maze, listening, and moving where I hear nothing. I spy a corner, the woods edge in sight, no sound, I move.
When I rise to run I see them, a whole group of worn men waiting for me. No doubt a trap. I run in reverse only to be cornered by more. 'What do I do?' I think for a second. They're well spread out, if I can just run between them I might have a chance. I bolt with all I have, trying to duck between them, praying they don't shoot me. But they close, and close in. I must look like a struggling animal, eyes squinted, out of breath, teeth bearing. They seem to like it, a challenge, a hunt. They smile amongst themselves as I brace myself, they might take me, but I'll be sure they don't enjoy it.
My body rigid, eyes fierce, one of them leaps at me bold. A whistling cuts the charge short, a metal recoiling before a thud. A bandit from the left goes flying. Another in front of me. Heavy steel bolts fly freely, screaming through the air as the bandits run for cover.
“Mecha!” One of them yells.
'Mecha!?!? Here?' I feel the blood drain from me. The battle commences. Yelling and gunshots, gears turning and thuds. Death screams, and the gurgling sound of men choking on their own blood among the smoke and fervor. In the chaos I take the opportunity to make for the woods.
A bolt flies just in front of me as I enter the clearing, forcing me back into the cover of the concrete pillars. Trying to make my way through the battle alive, I run quick. Suddenly a tug on my leg, my whole body falling. I feel a cracking among my ribs as I land. A suicidal bandit climbs on top of me as I try to fight him off, his hands grabbing a hold of mine. We struggle briefly before I get the opportunity to plant my foot in his gut. Kicking him off I crawl away and try to return to my feet. An explosion of rubble knocks me back down, the powdered remains blinding me. I can hear gears and footsteps closing in. I continue on all fours, shoving myself into a gap in the rubble. Kicking and clawing my way to fit through the narrow spaces until I finally reach a dead end. A small pocket in the debris big enough for me to hide in, and hopefully deep enough to not be found.