by J. Thorn
“It’s okay. I’ve left that life behind. But I must say that I’m quite disappointed to hear there’s no refuge where I’m heading.”
“Sorry,” Hado said.
“May I ask why you are headed West?”
Fleeing the tribe I want to save. How could I explain that?
Hado cleared her throat. “Same as you—looking for hope. And we seek that in Denver.”
Kuno nodded. “Good. Denver is a fine place for Venganza. For women.”
Hado’s hand went to her spear.
“Whoa. Relax. You know there’s Venganza clans in other cities, right? It's not like I can’t put two and two together. Although, I can be a bit dense. Just now realized why you had the mask.”
Dia looked at Hado, and she lowered the spear.
“You were saying about Denver?” Dia asked, her chin in her hands and her eyes locked on Kuno.
“I passed through the Rockies on my way East. Denver wasn’t affected by the Outage.”
“The Outage?” Hado asked.
“Yeah, North Korea hit the West Coast; it’s how all this shit happened in the first place.” Kuno studied both women’s faces. “I guess the news of that never made it to Ohio.”
Hado thought that Shiva might have known. The head of the Council had kept information tight and contained, even interrogating and killing Los Muertos before they had a chance to talk to any other Venganza. At some point, information about what had happened in the West would have made it to Erehwon. But then again, Lanette had never spoken of it, either. The other, more likely scenario was that this man was either lying or had the wrong information. No matter what, Hado would have to rely on what she was told and make her own decisions—something she’d done throughout her entire life.
“Tell us,” Hado said.
“It started with a North Korean missile strike somewhere on the West Coast. To this day, I don’t know that anybody’s sure where. Could’ve been as far south as San Diego or L.A. Nobody who came to Seattle from NoCal said San Fran had been hit. This was the beginning of the end—like, 20-something years ago…”
Hado looked at Dia and realized that this world was all that the girl had ever known. She, herself, had some wispy memories of ice cream, television, and such things as cars. But Dia had only the darkness of life in the ruins.
“They hit a power plant and dropped the grid. It was enough to send cascading power failure across the country. And that was that. The Outage.”
Kuno paused, and Hado waited, knowing there had to be more.
“At the same time, we knew global sea levels were rising. Folks argued about whether it was being caused by humans or not, which didn’t matter because the climate was changing regardless. And not in our favor.”
“Were you a scientist?” Hado asked.
“Why, because I’m Asian?”
“No, because you sound like a scientist.”
Kuno grimaced and then broke into a chuckle. “Yeah, I was a member of a non-profit called Life Science Washington, and I did climate change research. And, before you ask, I’m good at math and science.”
Dia frowned and looked at Hado, who shook her head as if to say she’d explain the joke later.
“Like I was saying, there’s debate as to whether we could have recovered from the Outage, especially after it cascaded across the continent, but you add the environmental impact on top of it, and that’s what you have today—a mass die-off and pockets of survivors. My guess is that most Americans died from the seasonal flu that went around during those first few winters. It wasn’t a big deal when we had flu shots, doctors, and hospitals, but put an outbreak in the gen pop now and you’re screwed.
“There was definitely coastal flooding happening at that point, which was the number one indicator to me that climate change had begun to accelerate. From my studies, I knew that if the temperature differential broke through the 2-degree plus/minus mark, that we’d end up with the possibility of a Gulf jet stream reversal.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. Once a scientist, always a scientist… The irony of global warming—we’re heading into a series of mini-Ice Ages. Coasts will flood, and the continent’s prime growing regions will shift south.”
“Like Denver,” Hado said.
“Yes, definitely Denver. And with that city at a higher elevation and given its mountain streams, it might be one of the last places humans will be able to live until the Ice Ages end hundreds of years from now. Your neck of the woods? Might be tough to get by up there in another ten or twenty years. Unless you got a source of water and some Eskimo knowledge.”
“Well, I guess we’ll decide what to do next once we get to Denver.”
Kuno spread his hands out as if to signal that Denver was as good of a gamble as anywhere else.
“Thanks for sharing your information with us,” Dia said.
“Thanks for sharing your rabbit with me.”
Hado looked at Dia, trying to process everything the man had told them.
“I know it sounds crazy. But I assure you, it’s true,” Kuno said, interrupting her thoughts. Then, he stood up.
“Are you leaving?” Dia asked.
Kuno nodded. “It’s time for me to be on my way. I appreciate the meal.”
“Where will you go?” Hado asked.
“Perhaps I’ll try heading East, but on more of a southern trajectory—like the Tennessee Valley. You know anything about that region?”
“I’ve haven’t heard much.”
“Then I guess it’ll be an adventure.” Kuno smiled.
“Wait, before you go…” Hado went over to Ree. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a hunting knife she’d found in the house. It was old and rusted, but better than nothing. She handed it to Kuno.
“I can keep it?”
“I’ve got my own knife. And we don’t want you to starve.”
Kuno smiled, sliding the blade into the empty sheath on his waist. “Thank you.”
He then turned around, and the two women watched him head back down the road.
“It’s time to move on,” Hado said. “Let’s pack up and get going.”
Chapter 23
12 Days West of Erehwon
Hado struggled to stay upright on her horse as they rode into another abandoned Nebraska town, the silver moon looking down on them through thin, hazy clouds. The cold air made her arm itch even more. It felt as if a small fire burned in the wound, and it was one she couldn’t extinguish.
They came to a rail yard full of dozens of rusted train cars—the sight had become a familiar sight as they’d followed the rails. Hado hadn’t seen another person since Kuno, and so she’d been pleased with her decision to ride next to the tracks instead of the old highways. The plains provided little challenge to their horses, whether on the roads or rails, as the flat land continually stretched beyond the horizon. And, for many miles, the highway ran parallel to the tracks, the travel options being within a rock’s throw of each other.
“We should be able to find a place here,” Dia said.
“I agree.” Hado gritted her teeth as she spoke. Wincing and swallowing her pain.
When Dia looked back, Hado sat up straight and let go of her arm.
“Are you all right?” Dia asked.
“I’m fine. I like the idea of stopping for the evening. Let’s see if we can set up camp.”
They left the tracks and rode down the middle of the main street they’d approached. Dia stopped in front of a rusted metal sign on a pole leaning at a forty-five-degree angle. “McCook, Nebraska,” she said, tilting her head and reading the sign. “The ‘Go-To City of Southwest Nebraska.’” She chuckled. “Maybe it was at some point.”
Hado lifted her head and gave Dia her best fake smile before looking down the street. Crumbling buildings stood on each side, the brick and mortar which had once kept them upright now scattered across the sidewalks. The skeletons of several vehicles sat against the curb, all blackened or stripped of their pa
rts like so many other rusted frames the women had seen. As she’d done in every small town they had passed through, Hado tried to imagine how this place had been, back when families would have gathered to eat, relax, and enjoy each other’s company. But that world had perished, leaving only fading memories for those who had been mere children when it all ended.
Hado glanced at the upcoming street sign as they approached an intersection. “We should head down Norris Avenue and away from the highway. Maybe we can find a place that gives us a long view of both the road and the tracks.”
“We haven’t seen anyone in days. Why can’t we just pick one of these buildings to stay in?”
Hado sighed, louder than she had wanted to, and it made Dia stop. “You can’t let your guard down out here. Not for one instant. Before, you had the protection of the tribe, you lived in Erehwon, and you had Shiva. You were protected. That’s not the case now.
Dia leaned over from her mount and got in Hado’s face as much as she could while on horseback. “Really? Like when I was being chased through the ruins by the Venganza? Was I protected then? I can handle myself.”
“You think you can, Dia, which is more dangerous than you realize.”
Dia huffed and pushed Piva into a light canter, moving ahead of Hado.
She’s a teenager. She knows everything.
They continued down Norris and Hado felt the horses’ cadence change. Even in the darkness, she could tell the road was different—cobblestones stretching from curb to curb. The buildings on this street had fallen into the same state of disrepair as the others, but Hado noticed iron latticework and painted shutters on the windows here, as if the people of McCook had cared more for these structures.
“These buildings are different,” Dia said, her angst distracted by the same thing that had caught Hado’s eye.
“The people must have thought these were worth more, or maybe they were more important than the others. But I don’t remember those times. I was just a kid, and I can’t possibly know what people valued, or why, before it all ended.”
“Did you believe Kuno?” Dia asked.
Yes, Hado thought. And yet I don’t know why.
“I’m not sure. I was so young. I’ve read about the wars and listened to the old women of the Venganza talk about it, but it’s still hard for me to imagine destruction of that magnitude. It’s not consistent with my experience in this world. The one we’ve been left.”
“What if he was right?”
“I’m not sure it matters much at this point. As long as he wasn’t lying about Denver, it doesn’t change a thing for us.”
They kept going. Hado eyed the buildings, but also scanned them for evidence of people—smoke, latrines, plots of vegetables. She saw no signs of survivors or clans.
She stopped and faced a building on the right side. A section of the blue cinder block wall had a sign in front of it which read “Fox” in a scripted font. Ahead on their right, the front wall of a church stood with a cross mounted over its door—the other three walls had fallen into a heap of debris. Hado wondered if the people’s religion had saved them in the end, or if they had died like animals in the wild.
Dia pointed to a place on their left. “How about that?”
The building seemed to have withstood the elements and freeze-thaw cycles over the decades. The windows had been shattered, which was not uncommon, but the frame and roof seemed to be intact. Hado immediately scanned the ground around the house’s foundation.
“Let’s approach it on foot,” Hado said. “Look for a fire pit or bones near the house.”
They tethered their horses to a fence post, and Dia put her index finger to her lips as she squatted in front of Decker.
“Be really quiet, boy. Unless you see something.”
The dog wagged his tail, and he walked alongside Dia as they crossed the street.
A white-picket fence ran along the perimeter of the home’s backyard. Sections of the fence had fallen, but most of it remained upright. As they got closer, Hado looked further into the backyard, which was full of tires and piles of timber, but she didn’t see evidence of anyone living there.
“Wait here,” Hado said to Dia.
Cautiously, she walked all the way around the house, looking for trip wires, traps, or garbage as she approached the front porch. The floorboards groaned as she climbed three steps and looked through the porch’s bay window.
Furniture had been stacked against one wall, and even in the darkened gloom, Hado could see graffiti covering the opposite wall. She stared all the way across the living room and could see the back door standing open, just off the kitchen. Leaves and plastic bags covered the floor. The staircase leading to the second floor had collapsed, its upper landing hanging in mid-air seven feet off the floor.
She shot a quick, low whistle at Dia, who appeared seconds later with Decker.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for a long time. I’m going to do a quick search inside. Go fetch the horses and tie them up around back so they can’t be seen from the street.”
“Okay,” Dia said, but then she came closer when Hado winced. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Now, do as I say.”
Dia turned around and went back to the horses while Hado crept around the east wall and entered the house through the open back door. Once inside the kitchen, she leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor.
Hado’s arm pulsed. She wanted to gouge at the wound with her nails and, at the same time, not even allow the air to touch it. She was hot and sweating, too, even though the temperature had dropped to near freezing.
She’s a kid, but she’s observant. You’re going to have to tell her.
Hado heard Dia walking to the back door, and she tried to stand up, but couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move, and she felt as though she might vomit.
“Hado!”
Dia ran over to her and kneeled down, putting her hands on Hado’s shoulders.
“I’m fine.” Hado’s voice cracked and her vision blurred.
Dia placed the back of her hand on Hado’s forehead, then her cheeks. “You’re burning up. You have a fever.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dia ignored Hado and stood to take off her jacket.
“Let me put this on you.”
“No!” Hado said, startling Dia. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I can take care of myself.”
Dia left her jacket next to Hado. She scanned the room and then moved piles of debris away from the front of the fireplace.
“What are you doing?” Hado asked.
“I’m going to start a fire. You have a fever, and you’re shivering. We have to keep you warm and let you rest.”
“You can’t start a fire. We don’t want to attract any—”
“You don’t have a say in this.” Dia raised her voice—something she’d rarely done. “I’m not going to let you die out here. I need you.”
Hado didn’t respond.
“If we leave the back door open, we won’t have to worry about a blocked flue, and anyone coming through McCook won’t see the smoke unless they’re really close. At least until morning.”
“And what about the smell from the fire?” Hado asked.
“A risk we have to take. It’s cold and you’re sick. If we attract others, we’ll deal with that when it happens.”
Hado smiled and winced as she turned to face Dia. “Logical. Risk-reward calculated.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It means you’ve got what it takes to survive out here, Dia.”
The girl shrugged and began stacking timber in the fireplace. She lit some paper and it flared, casting an orange glow across the room. Dia helped Hado to her feet then, and the two stumbled over and collapsed next to the growing fire.
Dia smoothed out a few old furniture covers and pieces of cardboard. Hado lay down on them, facing the flames.
“Thank you,” Hado said.
“You rest.”
Hado nodded. A moment later, she closed her eyes and, within minutes, she was asleep.
Hado gasped. She sat up, her shirt stuck to her skin in a cold sweat. She looked around, momentarily forgetting where she was or who she was with.
A few feet away from her, Dia lay fast asleep. She had curled up next to the fire on the hard floor, clutching an old, rusty knife in her right hand. Hado took a deep breath and looked around the room. Only the darkness stared back at her.
Decker sat beside Dia, but he was gazing at Hado. Apparently, she’d woken him.
“Sorry, Decker.”
Hado felt the tingle in her arm, and her hand naturally went to the wound. Something felt different. She lifted her arm, turning it inward to look closer at the bandage.
“Son of a bitch.”
The dressing on the wound had been changed. The old, bloody bandage lay crumpled on the floor nearby.
Hado lay back down and sighed. There would be no more hiding the infection from Dia.
Chapter 24
14 Days West of Erehwon
“Whoa, Ree,” Dia said, reaching over and pulling up on the reins of Hado’s horse. The sign ahead welcomed them to a place called Fort Morgan, Colorado.
“Why are we stopping?” Hado asked, her head slumped, facing the ground. “There’s still plenty of daylight left.”
“Are you serious?”
When Hado looked up, she saw two of everything in front of her, both versions fuzzy. She’d felt lightheaded for days, and the town before her seemed like a mirage. She moved her eyes to Dia, but swayed in the saddle as she did, her head slipping back and forth as she struggled to keep her chin up. “We’ve got to keep moving.”
“You can barely talk,” Dia said. “You’re slumping over. We can’t go any farther.”
“We…” Hado coughed. “We can stop here for a little while. Then we’ve got to keep moving.”
“These are the only ruins we’ve come across in days. We need to see if the town is abandoned. Hopefully, someone is living here, someone who can help us.”