“The ancients were weird.”
She stepped onto the road to check inside the structure, and found a bench seat made from the same brown metal. It appeared to be less a dwelling and more a covered place to sit, but it offered at least some protection from the wind, and an elevated platform upon which she could sleep to avoid bugs. Despite having some daylight left, she decided to stop for the night so as not to wind up stranded out in the open once it got dark.
Not far from the roadside shack, she found a cluster of prickly pear cactus. Though the orange blobs were (according to Dad’s book) edible, they had nasty hairy stickers all over them. She used the butt of her rifle to break a few of the more reddish ones off and stabbed them with her knife to carry them back to her sleeping spot one at a time. After shaving the spines and cutting the pods in half, she munched on the fruit, annoyed at having to constantly spit out dozens of seeds. The pods tasted pretty good, but took so long to eat that it had gotten dark before she finished.
Wisp curled up under her blanket on the bench, using the backpack as a pillow, and closed her eyes.
Next morning, Wisp’s first attempt to hunt failed in a grandiose way. Upon spotting another pincer-bug with a sting tail, she’d shot it with her rifle, but couldn’t find anything more than a splat on the sand. The insect appeared to have simply exploded. With that potential meal wasted, she settled for a tedious breakfast of more prickly pear fruit, then continued following the road toward the forest.
The sky remained cloudless, though a stiff, constant breeze blew in off the mountains. Her walk fell to a trudge by midday, both water bottles dangling on fingers tired of carrying them. Growls from her stomach went unheeded as she had run out of food and the land offered nothing even remotely tempting.
The bottle in her left hand kept pulling her over sideways, so she stopped to rest and transfer water from the full bottle into the one she’d been drinking out of until they both contained the same amount, each a little more than halfway full. Her dry throat scratched, but she wanted to be careful with water. Those bottles had to last until she reached the woods.
“I’m getting closer, Dad. I should be back in the forest in two days… if I can find food. What should I look for out here?”
A faint voice replied, “Anything you can eat.”
“Dad?!” Wisp perked up and looked around at the heat blur. No one, not Dad, not marauder, not total stranger had appeared. “Is that you?”
She listened to the wind for a few minutes. When no more voices spoke in her head, she worried she’d imagined hearing someone that didn’t exist and decided to chug water until she couldn’t make herself swallow another mouthful. Dad once mentioned how people who spend too much time alone, especially if they aren’t eating or drinking enough, could start ‘hearing voices.’
After recapping the bottle, she continued walking.
“I hope you’ll help me find the cabin, Mother.”
Wisp stared down at her feet eating up the terrain. No matter how much she walked, the mountains didn’t seem to be getting much closer.
“Am I going the right way, Dad?”
Minutes later, she sighed at the lack of reply.
“I’m trying. I’m sorry for making that man angry. I hope you’re not upset with me for leaving you there, but I’m not strong enough to carry you… and I didn’t want to pull your hand off.”
An odd rattling noise like someone shaking a bag of small rocks came from the ditch on the opposite side of the road. She glanced that way, but nothing in plain sight seemed responsible for it.
“I’m going home to ask Mother what to do. She’s not moving the twig anymore. I think she made herself tired leading me to you.”
Sensing something dangerous about the rattle, she kept her eyes on the ground. The noise repeated a few times, but whatever made it didn’t follow her. She decided against investigating, and walked a little faster to get away.
Wisp chatted on and off with Mother for a while, alternating between telling her about the desert and begging for help.
A faint buzz arose in the distance behind her.
Wisp squatted, both gallon bottles hitting the ground at the same time, and spun around. Far off behind her, a long plume of smoky dust billowed across the desert, the narrow tip heading her way. She let go of the bottles and swung her rifle off her shoulder, bringing it up to peer through the scope.
Her crosshairs homed in on a buggy driving along the road. For a second, she started to cheer with relief that Falo had changed his mind, but the man driving it wore a black leather jacket and a ball-shaped, blue helmet with a clear visor. The man who ditched her and Dad in the middle of nowhere had a shredded T-shirt and jeans, although he did put on a marauder’s armored vest. However, this man’s shoulders appeared much wider.
That’s not Falo!
Heeding Dad’s advice, she decided to save the bullet since the man didn’t present an immediate threat to her life. Besides, she’d never tried to hit a target so far away before. After throwing the rifle over her shoulder, she grabbed the bottles and ran. Water sloshed; the pan and pot in her backpack rattled, and the rifle kept clonking against a canteen. She knew she couldn’t outrun a buggy, but he had been far away. If only she could find somewhere to hide…
Open desert lay in all directions, but the nearest potential hiding spot (a dead car crashed into some cactuses) sat well off to the left over so much open ground the buggy driver would easily see her before she could disappear.
Engine roar grew alarmingly loud behind her.
She slowed to a jog, preparing herself for the likelihood that she would wind up sending yet another monster to the Other Place, even if she didn’t want to use up a bullet. Before she could drop the bottles and pull a weapon, a shadow running over the dirt up ahead caught her eye. She kept going forward, skidding to a stop at the edge of a shallow creek that cut sideways across the road’s path. Only an inch or two of muddy water trickled along the bottom, but went into a corrugated steel tunnel that passed under the street.
She jumped down into the trench, landing ankle-deep in mud, and duck-walked into the pipe. Up above, the screaming engine fell to a lazy idle for a few seconds before cutting off to silence. Metal and springs creaked. Boots clomped on paving, drawing close.
Poop!
Wisp crawled deeper into the pipe, trying to get far enough in that the man couldn’t reach her. She peered between her legs at the opening behind her while crawling as fast as she could go. A male grunt preceded a heavy thump as two booted legs fell into view, sending up a splash of muddy water.
The helmeted face of a marauder filled the opening five feet away. “Hey, there. Why you runnin’?”
She huddled in the pipe, peering back at him. The rifle over her shoulder couldn’t turn around in the narrow space, and between it and the backpack, she could barely shift her position. If she wanted to shoot him, she’d have to use the pistol. Ahead, another opening led back outside…
And that gave her an idea.
Wisp faked a whimper. “Go away.”
“I can’t do that, girl. Leave you all alone out here. Come on. You can trust me.”
She couldn’t see his eyes behind dark sun goggles, but she didn’t trust his smile. This man gave off much less creepiness than the marauder with the keys, but Falo had been honest looking, too. She grunted and wobbled, pretending to be stuck.
“How’d you end up out here?” The man squatted by the opening. “You gonna make me crawl on in there after ya, aren’t ’cha?”
Again, she pressed herself against the side of the pipe so it appeared she tried to flee deeper into the tunnel, but couldn’t.
The man leaned his head in and crawled closer.
As soon as he crawled waist-deep into the pipe, Wisp lifted her head to face forward and scrambled toward the opposite end of the tunnel. The two one-gallon bottles slowed her down, but she didn’t want to give up precious water out here. Still, in seconds, it became clear she couldn’
t get away from him while lugging so much stuff. Gambling on her idea, she abandoned the jugs to crawl faster.
“Hey, git back here,” yelled the man.
She scrambled on all fours to the end of the pipe, leapt to her feet outside, and hurled herself at the dry, crumbling wall, grabbing clusters of dead roots. Clods of dirt broke away from the side of the culvert as she climbed. Full panic launched her into a sprint for the buggy as soon as she got out of the ditch.
“Hey, wait!” yelled the man, his voice coming out of the pipe opening.
She pulled the rifle off her shoulder while dashing across the dirt to the road. Eager to spare her feet from the scorching blacktop, she vaulted into the driver’s chamber and shoved the rifle down beside her. Her hand slapped the starter button before her butt hit the seat.
When the buggy engine roared to life, the man started screaming a whole mess of strange words she’d never heard before. She mashed her foot down on the gas pedal the same instant his helmet rose into view from the ditch. Whatever he yelled, she couldn’t make out over the engine’s ear piercing shrill. Acceleration crushed her into the seatback.
The buggy shot forward with such force that the two front wheels left the ground. She let out a shriek of fright, which faded to a breathless wheeze when the buggy’s backward tilt came to a hard stop and her butt left the seat for two seconds. If not for her death grip on the steering wheel, she’d have been flung backward out of the chair. Metal scraped the road behind her for a few seconds until the engine fell to idle, her foot no longer pushing the pedal. The front end crashed down, banging her face first into the steering wheel. Seeing stars, she swooned around until the distant yelling of the man snapped her back to reality.
Wisp looked down the length of her leg at the pedal under her toes. Not all the way down!
Pressing the pedal halfway to the floor kicked the buggy into motion, and kept the front wheels in contact with the ground. She sent a quick look back at the man fading into the distance, and cheered, thrusting both fists in the air.
“Hah! You aren’t gonna catch me!”
Wisp laughed at outmaneuvering him with the tunnel. Though she’d lost quite a bit of water in the process, she hoped having a buggy would more than make up for it by getting her back to the forest faster. She also felt a little less bad about stranding him there. Marauder or not, shooting him would’ve been kinder than leaving him with nothing to drink.
She couldn’t see much over the side of the pit, but decided to keep her head down in case the man had a bow. No cactuses or objects tall enough to be dangerous appeared to be anywhere in front of her, so she held the wheel as straight as possible in an attempt to follow the road. Within seconds, the buggy went off paving onto dirt, bouncing her up and down. She cranked the wheel to the right, but the hard maneuver threw the cart into a flat spin, the rear end sliding out to the left, tires spitting sand. Wisp’s body rammed against the side of the driver compartment as the world went in circles.
Screaming, she mashed both feet into the brake. The buggy spun around twice more before skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust.
She kept pushing down on the brake as hard as she could, her hands locked around the wheel in a death grip. Hard breathing lasted only until she got a mouthful of dust and lapsed into choking. He’s gonna catch me! Gasping for air with tears streaming out of her eyes, she forced herself to let off the brake and hit the gas again.
A gentler touch on the pedal nudged the buggy forward. She swerved back onto the road, stretching tall in the seat so she could see. The walls around the driver’s chair were taller than the other buggy she’d been in with Falo. This one had more room as well, as the whole machine appeared larger. It also had four fat, knobby wheels all the same size instead of giant rear tires and narrow front ones―probably why her spinout had been a spinout and not a flip.
On paving, the knobby tires created a droning buzz and made the whole frame vibrate. This buggy’s steering had a stronger reaction than the other one, turning harder for less twist of the wheel. She tested by veering side to side until she got the feel of the handling. Eventually, her death grip on the steering wheel loosened. With confidence in her ability to drive, she relaxed her posture and allowed herself to enjoy the wind. It made sense to her now why the man had lenses over his eyes; the fast-moving air hitting her face made it difficult to see, especially when it also carried sand particles. Since she had nothing to shield her face, she drove only as fast as she could before the wind forced her eyes closed. While she didn’t use even half of the buggy’s power, driving still covered ground much faster than she could walk―and travel by buggy didn’t make her tired.
The momentary escape offered by her enjoyment of driving faded after an hour or so to the idea that she’d run away from one of the monsters who had sent Dad to the Other Place. She scowled at nothing in particular, angry at herself for eluding him and stealing the buggy rather than getting revenge. She perked up tall and looked back to the left, at the road rushing away behind her.
It hadn’t been that long. She could spin around and go after him.
Wisp clenched her hands around the wheel.
I’m gonna get him for you, Dad.
She lifted her foot off the gas, letting the buggy coast slower before attempting a turn.
Dad…
Her rage dissipated. Dad wouldn’t want her to go to the Other Place. Not yet. Not at twelve years old. What if that man was hiding somewhere and jumped on the buggy before she could get a gun out? She’d watched the adults go after each other with swords and axes at the marauder camp. No way would she have a chance in a fight like that, especially if he caught her trapped inside the buggy. However unlikely the idea, what if he had a gun too? Alina recognized them, as did that man at Zen’s, so other people out there must know about them, too. Sure, only two people out of everyone she’d run into knew guns, but how many people existed? Up until a week ago, she thought the Endless Forest covered the entire world. This… sandy nothingness appeared equally as vast, and who knew what lay beyond it? Her forest turned out not to be endless, so it made sense the desert didn’t go on forever either. And that Neva Da tribe Falo mentioned, where he thought Dad came from―they all had guns, so maybe they traded them sometimes.
I’m not a stupid Fire Dragon. She closed her eyes for the length of a meditative exhale. I’m not going to get angry. I got away. Going back to shoot him is stupid. I could get hurt. With calm came the thought that the man might not have been a marauder at all. The former captives all took buggies. Having one of these things didn’t make someone a marauder. She drove one now, and that didn’t make her a marauder. Had she turned around to shoot that man, she might’ve sent a nice person to the Other Place for no reason other than anger. Maybe that man had been trying to help her after all? He didn’t say the same kinds of things they had. He hadn’t called her ‘girlie’ or claimed she belonged to him now.
Wisp shivered. Surely, that would’ve made Mother say something. If she’d shot a nice man, she definitely would’ve done bad.
She debated turning around again, only this time out of guilt for possibly taking a friendly person’s buggy. Of course, that could end badly, too. If he wound up being a marauder, she could get hurt, or taken and put in a cage. Even if he had been intending to help her, he’d probably be angry with her for taking the buggy, and wouldn’t be so nice anymore.
“Bleh,” she muttered… and decided to keep on going.
For hours, she drove toward the mountains, holding a moderate speed while following the road, except for wherever she had to go onto dirt to avoid the ruins of ancient cars or collapsed poles. As she drove, she tried to make sense of what Falo had said about him. Dad did once tell her about his journey, how he and Mother had traveled from a faraway place because those who lived there did not approve of the two of them being together. Mother had been promised to another man she had no feelings for, but she had fallen in love with Dad. He’d told her the other people would
have killed him for breaking the custom, so they had snuck away in the night.
When the sun started to set, the mountains (and forest) had gotten noticeably closer. She stopped only once it had become too dark to see. After pushing the button to make the engine go silent, she climbed out for a stretch, relieved herself, and finished off the canteen she’d been sipping on all day.
Hoping to find food, she went around back, but this buggy didn’t have the same tall, triangular storage tent as the others. Four metal boxes with leather straps holding lids closed hung two per side in front of the rear wheels. The first one had tools, the second a bunch of machine parts she didn’t recognize. In the third bin, she found four canteens, two of which were full. The last box contained kindling, and a bunch of empty plastic bottles of various sizes.
She sighed at the lack of food.
With nothing else to do, she closed the bin and curled up in the driver’s pit under her blanket, shivering more from fear than at the chilly desert night.
The growls of an empty stomach sang her to sleep.
Forest Wisp
-32-
Soon after she resumed driving the next morning, the terrain became hilly. Within an hour, tall rock walls rose up on either side of the road. The air cooled with each passing minute, losing the dryness she’d never quite gotten used to.
The buggy engine groaned and labored on a steep grade. A few turns later, trees came into view, a dense spread of greenery up ahead. Wisp cheered and let go of the wheel to thrust both hands into the air. Eager to get home, she pushed the gas down more, picking up speed and grinning at the hope of being with Mother again.
She hit a rightward turn a bit fast, screeching tires as the buggy started to slide out of the curve. Wisp stomped on the brake too hard; the wheels locked, and her buggy went into a spin. She screamed and tried to push the brake even harder in an effort to stop sliding, but it didn’t help.
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