Thirst (The Oasis Plague Book 1)

by Iris Sweetwater

  Where the Batista were thin, lean, and muscular with their dark skin and eyes, her eyes were a light amber with little green flecks. At least, that was how Atlas described them the night they met. And despite her physical fitness and training, she still had a soft curve to her, her breasts requiring extra material to keep them out of sight and out of the way. And then there was her hair. Many of the Batista had problems growing healthy hair, possibly due to their genetics, so many left their heads bare. Even so, there were a few women who got lucky and were able to have some black locks they kept braided down their backs, feathers in them much like how she wore hers. But hers was red, once a dull auburn underground, but the sun had made it shine even brighter, like fresh blood.

  “Your eyes always get so small when you are focusing on something.” She knew his voice and his chuckle anywhere and didn't need to look at him to know who it was.

  “Why are you always so obsessed with my eyes?” she asked, but the right side of her mouth quirked up in a half-smirk.

  “Didn't I answer that question already when I met you?” There was laughter in his tone.

  Brenna picked up her spear and playfully swung it at him, nearly missing Atlas’s stomach as he jumped back lithely. No matter how much she practiced, Atlas was always better, a true warrior in every sense. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I understand it.” As the light of the sun began to come over the desert surrounding them, Brenna noticed the red hue of the small little spikes of hair that remained atop Atlas’s head. “I see that you have copied my style again. I don't think this is a good time to be looking like an outsider. How are you going to catch a wife looking like that?”

  Brenna was only teasing him, but there was that flash in his eyes at the mention of a wife. It was his twenty-third year of life, an important time for a Batista man. It was the year when he would choose a bride and become part of his own family unit. It was a tradition that not only brought happiness to the whole tribe but also ensured they would continue their legacy through the generations. Brenna found it at least a little funny considering Colony 88, her mother included, would rather they died off because they were defective. But wasn’t it that kind of thinking that landed them in a nuclear war, that led to hiding underground, in the first place?

  “C’mon, I am only joking with you.”

  Brenna came up to her friend, and she couldn't help but feel warm with his eyes on her. She got the feeling more and more that the reason he was so defensive about getting married was because it was her he wanted to ask. Either he didn't know how to bring it up with her or had a feeling the tribe would not accept her as his bride. While the Batista technically had no caste system or rankings, Atlas was well-loved and respected. It could easily disappoint the native tribeswomen and his family if he mixed their genetics with an undergrounder. She had never known the sting of hatred from the Batista, but she felt there was an invisible line she shouldn't cross.

  “I do not believe that choosing someone to have my children is a joking matter,” he said, looking down at her. When Brenna was up close, it was more obvious how he towered more than a head over her.

  “Fair enough, but what about the hair?” She reached up to touch it but quickly pulled back, wondering if she was being cruel by staying so close when he felt the way he did. She had been swallowing back her own feelings enough to know that he didn't deserve that kind of ache. Besides, undergrounders were not as healthy as the Batista, and between that and what had been done to her the first night on her own, she didn't even know if she would be able to give him children.

  “It is a special occasion,” he answered, his smile returning as he chewed on some berry bark, a specialty that he taught her to make for snacks during harsh times after the last Great Hunt ended.

  “What special occasion is that?”

  “It has been a year since you saved my sister and came to us. It is a dual celebration.” He showed his teeth with his wide grin this time, something that had amazed Brenna when she had first met the Batista as a child. Despite any deformities and their lifestyle, they had excellent pearly white teeth, some even prettier than the undergrounders.

  “This is ridiculous, Atlas! I did what was right and got thrown to the coyotes over it, and you all had to take me in and train me, so I wasn’t weak and dead. I don't think I am anything to celebrate,” Brenna protested, walking away from him. But Atlas latched onto her hip with his six long fingers and pulled her back, her skin where his hand sat feeling even hotter than the desert around her, though gentler now that he had her attention.

  He leaned down to her ear, tickling it as he spoke from behind her. She was not touching the rest of his body, but she could feel the heat radiating from him against her back. “It is not ridiculous to celebrate you saving my sister’s life and being allowed to become a Batista. Nothing else in the details matters.” Brenna knew better than to argue with him when he spoke like that. It was always final. He had this spirit about him and an authority that meant he almost always got his way. She wouldn't have put it past him to be the one who had arranged the whole thing.

  Though, she did still have a worry that because of her, the Batista would be in even more danger than they already were. She didn’t think Colony 88 would leave it alone that they were having a party during one of the most desolate parts of the year, or that they would even have enough health and joy to do such a thing. The undergrounders had never said it out loud, but from what she had gathered since the day she was kicked out, they wanted the Batista to go away. It didn’t matter whether they chased them off, forced a war, or simply made sure they took enough of their food and medicine away that they would simply die off.

  “But what if they see us celebrating and they come and find me here? Or they come to take more away because they don't want you happy?”

  Atlas used the leverage of his hand to spin her around to face him, his head still low so that it was right above her own. She licked her lips involuntarily and could barely breathe in this closeness. She was afraid she was very close to taking his choice of wife away from him because her bodily response was something she had a hard time controlling when they were completely alone like this.

  “Then, I will protect my tribe, and that includes you, Brenna. Stop referring to yourself as separate.” His voice was so quiet that even if anyone had been standing nearby, they would have no idea what he said to her.

  Brenna wanted to come up with a good retort, but she had none, and the longer she stood there, the more her eyes focused on his dark red lips. She swore they were moving closer, though she was not moving. Was he going to kiss her? Should she let him?

  Brenna closed her eyes in anticipation, sucking in a breath at the last second before she heard a voice that made her move away much too quickly to be natural. Luckily, it was only River, Atlas’s sister and the little girl she had saved the year before.

  “I came to see what was taking so long. You aren't thinking about taking her away from her own party, are you?” River asked, her fist on her little hip as she teased. Brenna let out a nervous laugh, glad the girl didn't seem to notice anything odd was happening.

  When Atlas answered, his voice was a little thick. “You know how stubborn she is. I was simply trying to convince her the celebration was not going to cause the end of the world since that has already happened.” He looked at Brenna and gave her a wink that both made her laugh and made her cheeks turn red.

  “Come on, Brenna, you have to be there! There is even going to be dancing!” the little girl whined.

  Brenna bit her lip. “Of course, I am coming, but only for you, River,” she said, patting the girl on the head as she held her spear upright and began to walk with it toward the bonfire. She spared a glance back behind her to see if Atlas was following and caught him looking at her again. This was trouble, but she could worry about that some other time. Right now, it was time to rejoice in a year of survival.

  Chapter Three

  One Year Earlier

  �
�Somebody make room for her, and get the medic!” Atlas called out as he came into camp, carrying Brenna in his arms. She couldn't believe one of the tribesmen had saved her. As he had lifted her up and started carrying her, she had been able to look back behind them and see the mutilated bodies of the men who had attacked her. Part of her wished he had arrived sooner, but she was grateful he wanted to help her at all. She would probably be sent on her way again once she was checked out and cleared, but it was a reprieve from the loneliness of the elements and trying to fight off Raiders for a few days.

  “What on Earth are you doing with an undergrounder, Atlas? We don't need one of them here!” she heard a voice screech as she stared up at the clear night sky, thousands of stars punctuating just how small and insignificant she was in this harsh world that apparently used to sustain billions of people. She didn't know how many humans were left, but she knew the stars outnumbered them by so many, and so did the planets and the grains of sand. There was nothing but luck and chance deciding who got to live and who died, who had a good life and who had to suffer. But somehow, she had defied it and saved a little girl, and in turn, someone had saved her when she was at her most desperate.

  “I recognize her. She is the one who stole the medicine that saved my sister. I think they have exiled her for it. There were men . . . they attacked her. They did awful things. We must help her.”

  “Why, Atlas? Why must we help her?” the angry voice from before chimed in, but then there was a third voice, the voice of a woman. The thickness of it was familiar. Was this River’s mother whom she had seen when she delivered the life-saving drug to the medic for the little girl?

  “A life for a life. She had no reason to help us. She does not hate us like they do and deserves our help. She is one of us. And I will not deny the girl that saved mine.”

  Yes, yes, it was her.

  Brenna relaxed in the arms of the unknown man, clearly the brother of the little girl that had been sick, feeling like she was safe, if only for now.

  “She can come to my bed. It is the least we can do,” the same woman's voice offered, and then she was being jarred again with the movement of the man's feet across the hot sand.

  But the voice of the mean one called after them as the pain reached a new crescendo, causing her to moan and then lose her stomach on the ground. Luckily for the man carrying her, she was able to keep it off of him. “We will be punished for this! You know the rules about taking in one of them that has been exiled.”

  Brenna wanted to reassure the man that she would be gone as soon as she could walk out of there on her own, but she just couldn't bring herself to say anything, choking on the tears as the memory of what had been done to her flooded her mind over and over again.

  That was when it all went black for a moment.

  She was laid down on something soft, a makeshift bed on the ground inside some kind of cloth house. It was nothing like she was used to, but she appreciated it all the same. Anything was better than being out in the desert right now.

  “Thank you,” she managed to stammer out as her hand landed against the man who had been carrying her, able to see his face clearly now that he was sitting down next to her.

  “No, thank you,” he said, and Brenna was shocked. “My sister had not seen enough life yet to go. You are the reason she is alive and on the mend.” Brenna held her abdomen and groaned. “The medic will come and see you. He should be able to help.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you stay with me while the doctor . . . ” she trailed off as another pain hit her, turning her face as new tears stung her eyes.

  “If you wish it, I will stay.”

  “Then it will be me that owes you,” she said weakly, not turning her head back to look at him again.

  “No, there is nothing enough to pay for the saving of a life. But I will try. I will teach you to fight when you are better. My mother can show you to do your hair like a Batista and to make the clothes.”

  Brenna looked at him then in confusion. “What is Batista, and why would I need to do my hair and clothes like your mother?” she asked, no longer caring about her tears as the medic came in, beginning to examine her.

  Atlas reached for her hand and held it tightly while the doctor worked on her, and she kept her eyes fixed on his. “Batista is what I, Atlas, am, and my sister River, and my mother, all of us. It is what we call ourselves, named after the man who stayed on the surface with a few others and survived at the end of the world. And you would need to do your hair that way so you could stay and be a Batista, too.”

  “You heard what that other man said. Why would you want me here? I have to go when I am better, or it will put all of you in danger.”

  “No, you will stay. Even if it is only so I can look at those little green flecks in your eyes every day.”

  Brenna managed to smile at his comment about her eyes, never even realizing she had any green flecks. It was looking at him that she finally drifted off to sleep, the medic having used various plants for pain and healing.

  When Brenna approached the bonfire everyone was gathered around, a circle of drummers formed around her and River, and River began to dance to the beat. She reached for Brenna’s hand, offering to dance with her. Brenna was used to the sound of the handmade drums of the Batista now and had even learned a few of their traditional dances but had not been the one for parties. She was almost always hanging back and watching, sharpening her spear or something, waiting for the worst to happen. But while she couldn't accept that this was all just for her, she did respect the idea of celebrating life and the fact that both she and River had beat the odds.

  Thinking back to her private moment with Atlas and what he said to her about protecting her, she would just let go and whatever happened, happened.

  She threw her spear out of the circle to Atlas, who caught it with no effort as she knew he would and accepted River’s hand. She smiled at the little girl’s beaming face as they began to dance together, the Batista clapping to the beat and laughing at the happy sight. But it was Atlas who she kept focusing on. He followed her every move outside the circle, his eyes watching her as she danced. It reminded her a bit of the way that the predators in the wild stalked their prey before they finally made their move and almost always got what they were after. Though, there was the occasional harrowing escape. Which scenario would this night end on? She knew that both were dangerous.

  Brenna couldn't hide from Colony 88 forever and needed the freedom to leave if it came down to that or the Batista being slaughtered. They were fighters, but the Colony still had remnants of technologically advanced weaponry. If they wanted the Batista gone, then they would use them. She would become their best excuse for the war they had always wanted.

  She finally left the circle and let another person in to dance with the energetic River, who was making the best out of her extended life. It made Brenna proud of what she had done rather than the shame her Colony had tried to make her feel for it. She stepped away from the crowd a bit, getting her spear back when Atlas decided to jump in there with his sister. She smiled as she watched. It was nice to see him like that, and she caught herself actually laughing. Maybe she could make this her home after all, and it would never come to the fight she believed it would.

  But that thought was interrupted by a scream coming from the other side of the bonfire. There was so much noise, she almost didn't hear it, and she could tell that many of the other Batista didn't hear either.

  On instinct, she ran into the action with her spear out, only to stop dead in her tracks as she approached the scene— Dalman, one of the tribesmen, and a member of Colony 88 were locked in a verbal disagreement. Brenna was afraid to run now that she was in his sights because it might draw even more unwanted attention to herself.

  Goosebumps prickled her tanned skin all across her arms and back with the fear that this would be the start of a war between Colony 88 and the Batista.

  As Brenna listened, she stayed as still an
d in the peripheral of the man from the Colony as she could. She understood what the initial fight was about. It was about the bonfire. It was the driest part of the season, which meant fires could easily get out of control. She knew this, and so did the Batista, but she trusted them to be able to handle it. They had been celebrating everything with fire for decades. Long before they even knew colonies were hiding underground for that matter. Colony 88 had no right to try and dictate how and when they could celebrate, and yet, here they were.

  “We are celebrating. This has nothing to do with you!” Dalman yelled, shooing the man like a dog. On any other day, Brenna would think it was funny, but there was nothing funny about her being exposed right in front of a member of the Colony. All they had to do was give one long look at her and know that the tribe had broken the treaty. And that treaty was the only thing allowing them to keep both their homes and their lives.

  “It does when you burn down our whole colony because of your recklessness. If only we had enough time and resources to celebrate every time the sun came up in the morning!” Heat went to her head as her blood pressure began to rise. It took everything she had not to attack that man right then and there. But she knew it would be worse for them all in the long run if she did.

  “You need to get off our land. This does not violate any treaty in place. Nothing is going to burn down, and we will put the fire out by midnight.” Brenna had been so angry she didn't notice Atlas step in front and block her from view while distracting the man with his own words. She didn't wait for an order, though she found herself worried for Atlas’s safety as she turned and ran, the crowd of Batista coming together to block her as she got out of Dodge.