The Black Sentry

by Bernhardt, William

  Xander was the fastest runner in the group. Brita had obviously spent more time with books than at the Summer Games. Nonetheless, she managed to keep pace. Her feet moved as quickly as his and at times threatened to surpass him.

  When they entered the main crossroads of the village, someone spotted them.

  “Look!” a man cried out, pointing. “It’s Adkins. He’s escaped!”

  After a moment’s confusion, a clamor arose. He knew it wouldn’t be long before someone came after them. And the Black Sentry could not be far behind.

  They could see the North Gate, which of course was not open.

  He looked at Brita. “Where do we go now?”

  “Outside.”

  “With the Creepers? The Savages?”

  “Why not? You did.”

  “With the Old Man, yes. But not for long. And not alone.”

  “You aren’t alone.” She ran to the tall fence adjoining the Gate and stopped. “You have me to protect you.”

  Brita pulled another length of rope out of her backpack. One end was tied to a large iron hook, much like the one the Old Man used. Xander slung it up to the top of the fence. It caught on the first attempt.

  They shinnied up the rope, him first, emulating how he had seen the Old Man do it. Xander and Brita followed.

  And then he looked down the opposite side of the fence.

  Creepers.

  On the ground below he saw not one but three Creepers moving rapidly toward the fence. He shivered as he watched their now all too familiar, grotesque, quivering approach. They moved back and forth along the wall, whirling their tentacles in the air, searching for a way up. He knew that if he or the others so much as set foot on the ground, they would be killed.

  Back in the village, he saw a Sentry platoon fast approaching.

  Creepers before and Sentry behind. They were trapped–with nowhere to go.

  “Xander,” he asked, “can you hook the rope onto a branch on the nearest tree?”

  Xander immediately understood what he had in mind. “I can try.”

  Xander swung the hook in the air, then let it fly. Once again, he got it on the first try. The hook locked down on an upper branch.

  “You go first. Swing over, then throw the rope back to us.”

  Xander didn’t argue. He held tight to the rope, pushed off, and swung into the nearest tree, sailing over the heads–and deadly tails–of the Creepers.

  After he was secure, Xander threw the rope back to the others. The Sentry were scant moments away.

  “Come on,” he told Brita. “You’re next.”

  She looked at him, horrified, but didn’t move. Brita had not been introduced to the Creepers before as he had. She was transfixed by the horrific, gelatinous monsters and their black slimy trail—just as he had been, the first time he saw them. She had been taught her whole life that coming close to a Creeper would mean instant death. And she did not want to die.

  “We don’t have time to argue,” he said. “Come on.”

  “I’m sorry, Daman—I—I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “I can’t!”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “No–I–I just—”

  “Brita.” The lead Sentry was so close now he could make out the man’s face. It was Crusher, the Captain of the Guard. “Brita, the Old Man is counting on you. You’re his last hope.”

  Those were the words that made the difference. In spite of her fear, Brita gritted her teeth and grabbed the rope.

  “Don’t do it!” Crusher cried, only a few feet from the fence. “It’s suicide. You’ll be killed.”

  There wasn’t enough time for them to cross separately. “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed Brita.

  He could see she was still terrified, but she did it. An instant later, he pushed away from the fence.

  Together, they swung through the air into the forest. The wind rushed across their faces, sending a chill of excitement through his bones. He saw the Creepers beneath them, reacting in frustration and displeasure as their prey sailed away. At last they grabbed the nearest branches of the tree.

  Although he could no longer see them, he could hear the consternation on the other side of the fence. A handful of Sentry argued, trying to persuade someone to follow the escapees into the forest. No one volunteered. Even the harshest commands could not change their minds. Although the Sentry did occasionally travel outside the village, it was always by daylight, always in large groups, and usually in the relative safety of a cart or wagon drawn by horse or livestock. No one wanted to plunge out there in the dark on foot.

  Three Creepers pounded against the fence.

  “That’s an order!” he heard one of the leaders shout.

  “But they’ll kill me!”

  “If the traitors can do it, so can you.”

  “I do not wish to die.”

  And so it went. It would take some time before Crusher could persuade someone to follow them into the forest. They had time–a little anyway.

  He and Brita were secure on their branch, just below Xander. Brita clung tightly to his arm.

  “We must move on immediately,” he whispered.

  “Why?” Xander asked. “You don’t think the Creepers can climb trees, do you?”

  “I know they can.” He pointed. Below them, three Creepers circled, whirling their long tails toward a low branch. “We must move.”

  Fortunately, the trees were tightly packed in this part of the forest, so they were able to continue making their way as before. Xander would either jump or swing to the next tree, then he and Brita would follow. In this manner, they managed to stay one step ahead of the Creepers.

  At one point, he saw Brita staring down at the malevolent creatures, repulsed, yet unable to take her eyes off them. “They’re hideous,” she whispered.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I never knew. They aren’t in any of my books. My mother sometimes suggested that the Creepers were a fantasy, a myth invented by the Sentinel to keep villagers where he wanted them. I see now that isn’t true.”

  “No. The Creepers are real. And very deadly.”

  Eventually, they outdistanced the Creepers. Slowly, cautiously, once they were sure it was safe, they made their descent, watching at all times for more of the hideous beasts. Fortunately, the moon was full and bright. They were able to see clearly, even deep into the forest.

  After a while, they removed their cloaks. Brita stored them in her pack.

  “It seems we have escaped,” Xander said, surveying the strange new world around him.

  “Yes,” he echoed. “But where are we?”

  He had no idea. How could they find their way to safety?

  Discounting his minor excursion two days before, they were outside the village for the first time in their entire lives.

  And they were lost. And they were alone.

  Part Two

  The Journey

  19

  “We must all remain quiet,” Daman said. “At the first sound of a Creeper, make for the nearest tree.”

  “Understood,” Xander replied. “What I don’t understand is where we’re going. And how we’ll get there.”

  “We should go to Clovis. That’s the nearest village. And that’s where they’ve taken the Old Man.”

  “Can you get us there, Daman?”

  He thought a moment. “I saw the map, briefly, but—”

  “It’s a lucky thing you have me along.” Brita swung her pack off her back and reached inside. A moment later, she retrieved a tiny, glittering red object.

  “The Key! Where did you find it?”

  “Where you left it,” she replied curtly. “After they took the Old Man, I slipped inside the cellar. If I hadn’t, the Sentry would surely have found it eventually.”

  He peered into her pack. She was well prepared for this journey. She had a canteen, some dried meats and bread, a rind of cheese and a change of clothes. And one other item from
the cellar he recognized.

  “You brought the Map. This is wonderful.” He removed the ribbon and unrolled it. “When you can read a map, there’s no need to ever be lost.”

  “So I’ve read,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I can’t understand it.”

  “I can.” His eyes twinkled. “Is it possible I could teach you something?”

  “Seems unlikely.” She frowned, then knelt beside him. “Show me how it’s done.”

  *****

  While the sun rose, Daman told Brita everything the Old Man taught him about reading maps. After they found the blue circle that represented Merrindale, they traced their route in the direction they believed they had come. By noting the position of the sun, they were able to determine which way they must walk to find the road to Clovis.

  “What a wonderful invention this map is,” Brita marveled.

  He rolled it up and tucked it back into her pack. “Let’s go.”

  They followed a trail through the forest. He noticed that Brita frequently stopped to touch things as she walked–the grass, the trees, the plant life.

  “These trees are so different from those in the village,” she remarked.

  “Because they’re real,” he said, displaying the sage wisdom he had acquired the two days before from the Old Man.

  “Then what are ours?”

  “Fake. Manmade. Orderly.”

  “These seem so coarse. So irregular. But in a way–more interesting. More exciting.”

  He had to agree. Soon she pointed out the differences in the consistency of the grass, the wide variety of plants, the fact that the greenery grew randomly, rather than following an orderly pattern.

  The three made their way through the dark forest. It seemed as if each step brought a new discovery. Some of what they saw seemed familiar–and yet still strangely different.

  After they had walked for what seemed an eternity, he heard Xander shout: “Over here!”

  Brita and Daman raced to catch up to him. There was a wide clearing in the forest, a dirt path dividing the trees into two sections.

  “This must be the main road,” Brita said, thinking aloud. She withdrew the map once again, checking their position. “We’re about two miles north of Merrindale. If we stay on this road, we’ll eventually arrive at Clovis.”

  “Assuming you’re reading the map correctly,” he added.

  “Which I am.” She folded the map and started down the road.

  After a while, he noticed that the path under their feet had become harder. The road was no longer made of dirt, but of something more like rock—but not rock.

  “It’s paved,” Brita explained.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means...I’m not sure exactly. It’s something the Ancients did. To make their roads stronger.”

  “Why?”

  “The Ancients had vehicles far different from ours. Wonderful Constructs that moved without livestock to pull them.”

  “And...these Constructs required harder roads?”

  “Yes. And wider ones. The Ancients took their Constructs everywhere.”

  He peered at the road beneath their feet. “This path seems cracked and irregular. The grass has overgrown it in many places.”

  “It has been many years since the time of the Ancients. No one has cared for the road since the rise of the Sentinel. Nature quickly reclaims its own.”

  “Nature?” Again he was puzzled. He did not know the word.

  She tried to explain. “Nature is...everything. Everything real. Everything that wasn’t made by man or the Sentinel.”

  “Then where did it come from?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she raced forward. “Look!”

  He followed close behind. They approached a small stream, about as wide across as an adult man is tall. But the road did not stop at the edge of the water. To his amazement, the road stretched across the top.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “A bridge,” she answered. “At least, I think it is. I’ve seen pictures. The Ancients used them to cross water without getting themselves–or their Constructs–wet.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Before he could protest, she raced across. An instant later, she stood on the other side.

  He and Xander followed close behind. The bridge held his feet firmly, even though it did not touch the ground.

  What marvels these Ancients had.

  After walking another hour or so, they came to a large expanse of land riddled with hard rock, much like the material Brita had called the paved road. Here, though, broken pieces of the rock were not just on the road but everywhere. Rubble covered the grass and was strewn through the trees.

  “This must’ve been an enormous road,” he said.

  “This was more than a road,” she replied. “This was some kind of settlement. A town, perhaps.”

  “A town? Why would they pave a town?”

  “The Ancients paved everything. They cut the trees and covered the grass. They poured their rock everywhere. Even their houses and meeting places were built upon it.”

  “Not much of it has survived.”

  “No. The Sentinel destroyed almost everything.”

  “Look! Both of you!”

  Xander had dug something out of the ground, something half-buried beneath the rubble and debris. An arc-shaped piece of metal with soft round spongy material at both ends. A thick gray string dangled from one side.

  “What is it?”

  Brita didn’t immediately answer. She took the device and held it one way, then the other.

  “Surely you read something about this in one of your books? The ones that contain so much knowledge?”

  “I’m sure I did,” she hedged. “It’s difficult to remember everything at once.”

  “It looks as if it might fit over your head,” Daman suggested.

  “You could be right.” She slid the arc over her head. It fit loosely, but through trial and error she learned that she could manipulate the size of the arc by pushing in on the metal until it fit her head perfectly.

  “The two spongy pieces fit right over my ears,” she observed. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Perhaps it somehow spoke to the Ancients,” Xander suggested.

  “How could it speak?” she scoffed. “It’s just metal and wire.” She snapped her fingers. “Of course. It’s a medical device. For the treatment of ears.”

  “Treatment of ears?”

  “Exactly. I don’t recall the name, but the soft parts are placed on the ends for the protection. Then the sponge could be pressed in to painlessly clean out the wax.”

  He squinted. “This is an ear-cleaner?”

  “Yes. That’s it. I’m certain.” She picked up the gray cord. “And this could be inserted into some kind of power device. An engine of sorts. Then the device would send out healing energy.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Have you ever read a book?” she shot back.

  “Well...no.”

  She yanked the device off her head. “Then you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  *****

  Toward the end of the day, Daman spotted a wooden structure off the side of the road. Brita suggested that it was an old barn. They crossed over to it, hoping to find someplace comfortable where they could catch some sleep.

  Inside, they found enough hay and grass to make pallets on the floor. There were a few odd bits of furniture—a battered desk, some sort of feeding trough—but little else. They pulled enough together to create some rudimentary comforts. Brita withdrew two candles from her backpack and lit them, casting an orange glow over the interior of the barn.

  “Look at this!” Brita said. In a pile of hay, she found a flat, white, oval-shaped frame.

  “What is it?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

  She ran her hand over the smooth surface. “It’s a Relic. From the Ancients.”

  “B
ut what is it? What did it do?” He stared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Of course I do.” She held it out in front of her. “It’s a firebox. For small cooking fires. The white frame keeps the fire from escaping.” She placed it carefully on a patch of dirt. “Xander, do you have the flint?”

  He nodded, then set to work sparking the fire. Brita removed some of the meat from her backpack.

  They had almost settled in when he heard something.

  The three of them sat upright. No one said anything.

  The place was filled with hay and dust and cobwebs. A person—or anything else—could be hiding almost anywhere.

  “It was probably nothing,” he said, unconvincingly. He told himself it must have been his imagination.

  He had settled back into his pallet and almost relaxed when he heard the sound again. This time, he was almost certain the noise came from above them.

  There could be no question about it now.

  They were not alone.

  20

  Daman looked upward. The barn–or whatever it was–had an upper loft on the south end, high above their heads. It too was covered with hay. But in the far back, he thought he saw some of the hay...moving.

  “We should leave,” Xander said.

  Brita agreed. “What if it’s a Creeper?”

  Daman peered up at the loft. “I don’t think so.”

  A wooden ladder was nailed to the side wall. He took a loaf of bread Brita had laid out, then started up the ladder.

  He reached the top, then took a few cautious steps forward. “Is anyone there?”

  Something stirred. Something at the other end, in a great pile of hay.

  He laid the bread down in front of him. “Are you hungry?”

  The haystack vibrated, but no one emerged.

  “There’s plenty. And downstairs, we have cheese. I love cheese. Mmm. Yum.”

  The haystack trembled. Yellow straw tumbled from the top.

  A head poked through the middle.

  It was a man. His face was dirty, and his shirt was torn.