The New Day

by Lorraine Thomson

  “We live in a time of constant change,” Cyrus said.

  Before Brig and his band of mutants had raided Amat, David’s life had run with the steady rhythm of the seasons. Though there had been times when he’d complained about his chores and wished for more excitement in his life, for the most part he’d been steady and content. Especially when he realised that Sorrel liked him as much as he liked her. In that short time, he was the happiest he’d ever been. Since then, there had been nothing but change and too much excitement of the wrong sort. He thought on these things and more as they continued their journey.

  To pass the time and distract himself from the irritation of Lizbit’s constant presence, in his head David began to build a life for himself and Sorrel. Eli and Valen were there, and he made a place for Einstein. He was pleased with himself for that. He was considering the home they would have, when Kala stopped and waited for them to catch up.

  At first, David wondered why she’d stopped, and then he noticed the muddy pool surrounded by a few straggly plants.

  “This is where I saw Sorrel and Einstein. I watched them from the hills. Einstein knew the Wastelands well enough to bring them here, but his knowledge was old.”

  David looked around at the wretched place where Sorrel and Einstein had almost met their deaths, and then he looked at Kala. This short, sturdy mutant had saved their lives.

  “Thank you, Kala – thank you for what you did for them, and for bringing us here.”

  Her golden eyes gleamed at him. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “You’re too modest,” Cyrus said. “There are plenty who would have left them to perish.”

  Cyrus’s words rang true and David’s shame at his previous intolerance of all mutants ran as deep as his former hatred. He’d been wrong. He knew and accepted that, and when he was reunited with Sorrel, he would prove to her and Einstein how much he had changed.

  “Are you leaving us now?” he asked Kala.

  “Do you know where you’re going from here?”

  She looked around the small group. Valen’s face was as blank as the sky above his head. Coming, going, neither made any odds to him. Lizbit looked to David for an answer. David and Cyrus glanced at each other.

  “The other side of the Wastelands is all I know,” David said.

  “I’ve heard something of this Brig,” Cyrus said. “I have an idea of where to look.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Kala said. “Your plan is to wander around on the other side of the Wastelands with an idea of where to look and you hope to stumble upon him?”

  David and Cyrus glanced at each other again.

  “That’s about the size of it,” Cyrus said.

  “Granted, you’d find him eventually,” Kala said. “I mean the other side of the Wastelands is not an infinite space, but if you turn one way instead of another, it could take a long time. I can take you directly there – if you like.”

  “I thought you had plans,” Cyrus said.

  Kala shrugged. “Plans change. You know that. Besides,” she smirked, “I like the company.”

  “Then we’d be delighted to have you,” Cyrus said.

  Cyrus was a tough man in a world full of tough people, but the warmth with which he looked at Kala in that moment would have melted the highest snows in the deepest winter. That was the way David wanted Sorrel to look at him, but first he had to find her.

  “Please take us,” he said to Kala.

  “Take us,” Lizbit echoed.

  “That’s a yes then,” Cyrus said.

  Everyone laughed but Valen.

  They camped that night in hills that had once been green, the fertile land nourished by a myriad of tributaries coursing over the land. Now, they were rutted with dry stream beds and populated by sparse, fiercely clinging scrub.

  Kala led them over the uneven ground to where the last remaining watercourse ran. On either side was a narrow strip of green vegetation. She led them to the place from which she’d watched Sorrel and Einstein. It was a good vantage point, but Kala’s attention was on the stream. David thought it was flowing finely enough and at least they’d be able to fill their canteens, but Kala thought otherwise.

  “The water level has fallen so much in such a short time.” She looked at Cyrus. “The Wastelands are creeping up on us.”

  “We’ll move on, just like we always have,” he said.

  They gathered enough dry scrub to light a fire, their first of the trip, and supplemented their meal of pemmican with roasted salsify roots dug up by Kala and Cyrus.

  Grateful though David was for the pemmican, the taste and texture of the salsify roots provided a welcome diversion from the jaw-aching chewing required for the dried meat. Sitting around the fire cheered him, even if Lizbit did sit too close.

  “We should arrive at Brig’s tomorrow,” Kala said.

  There was a glow deep inside David as he settled down to sleep that night. The burning ember of hope that he would soon be reunited with Sorrel was tempered by the thought of having to face down his enemy, Brig.

  If he was to find out where Sorrel had gone with Eli, he would have to make some kind of peace with Brig. The thought brought him no comfort. Anger flared in him whenever he thought of the shaven-headed mutant, but he resolved to swallow his pride and do whatever it took to be reunited with Sorrel.

  He sent himself to sleep imagining the home they would build together. He pictured a log cabin, but not like the small dwellings they had in Amat. Those had been cosy but cramped. Their new home would be filled with space and light. There would be a large hearth and room enough for them all to live together. They would share meals and there would be much laughter around the table, and he and Sorrel would have their own room. He drifted off to sleep thinking about the two of them together in that room and all was well.

  He woke up knowing something was wrong. There was no pain, only a strange sensation of his skin crawling. When he looked at his hands, he saw that they were covered in tiny specks of dirt. They were in between his fingers, on his palms, down the sides of his nails. His sleeves were covered with the same flecks. He threw off his blanket and saw that the dirt was everywhere – inside the creases of the blanket, on his clothes, inside his clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair and they came away speckled with the grime.

  He went around the others, shaking them, telling them to get up. Their faces were covered in the black dots. He wondered what they were and where they’d come from and looked up at the sky as if he’d find the answer there.

  Kala groaned as she got up and swept the specks from herself. “Dirt worms.”

  “Worms?”

  David picked a speck from his sleeve and examined it. Not a dot, more like a line. When he saw it writhe on the end of his finger, he smeared it with his thumb.

  “Eugh!”

  Everyone was up by now, swiping the worms from themselves. Even Valen was at it, though only after Cyrus told him to do so.

  “Are they blood-suckers?” Cyrus screwed up his face.

  Kala shook her head. “No, not blood. They eat what your body emits – sweat, eye gunk, dead skin. They don’t usually do any harm – but I’ve never seen so many before.” She swiped the back of her neck. “Ugh, they’re everywhere. We need to get out of here.”

  They grabbed their belongings and scrambled down to the scoured floor of the Wastelands.

  “We’re gonna have to take everything off,” Kala said, “then beat our clothes out on the rocks. Use dirt to clean yourselves, rub it on your body to dislodge them.”

  “Dirt?” David asked. “Isn’t that where they came from?”

  “Up there, not down here.” Kala was already undressing. “Turn around everyone, let’s have some privacy.”

  David pulled off his clothes. There were dirt worms on his belly and on his arms. A few had worked their way down his legs. He scooped up a couple of handfuls of grit and rubbed it on himself.

  “It’s working,” he said.

&
nbsp; “Get as much off as you can,” Kala said.

  David scrubbed his arms, feeling grim satisfaction as the worms fell away with the grit. He was startled by an unexpected touch on his back. He whirled around to see Lizbit standing close to him, completely naked. He tried not to look. He didn’t want to look, but even though he focused on her face, he was aware of her body, so excruciatingly thin he did not know how it could contain her organs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sore.” She pointed at his back then clasped her hands over her heart. “Sore.”

  She’d seen his scar. The one he’d received at the hands of Black Angus.

  “Not sore. Not now. No touching, Lizbit – and no more looking. Turn around.”

  David turned his back on her.

  “Everything okay over there?” Cyrus asked.

  “Couldn’t be better,” David replied.

  Standing naked in the Wastelands, scrubbing worms off his body with grit, while a Sawney woman, so thin he didn’t know how she was even alive, stroked his scar. Yes, he thought, it couldn’t be better.

  He finished scrubbing himself then beat his clothes against the ground before putting them back on.

  “Didn’t you know about them?” Cyrus asked.

  Everyone was dressed again, but they were twitchy, scratching their heads and inspecting their hands for more dirt worms.

  David flinched when Lizbit stuck a finger in his ear.

  “I told you – no touching.”

  She showed him the small herd of dirt worms on the tip of her finger before smearing them on the ground.

  “They’ve always been around,” Kala said, “but not like this. Not so many. I think the water has drawn them – there used to be so many streams, now there are so few.”

  Cyrus squirmed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Kala took the lead and David fell into step beside Cyrus.

  “What do you make of Lizbit?” David kept his voice low so that Lizbit couldn’t hear.

  “In what way?” Cyrus asked.

  “It’s like she’s a Sawney but not a Sawney.”

  “She’s a Zero now.”

  “You know what I mean – her teeth aren’t sharpened, she doesn’t have any of those scars on her face. But it’s not just that – she was different to the rest of them – you saw that yourself.”

  “I did,” Cyrus said, “and I confess, I’ve wondered why it was that none of us could bring ourselves to despatch her.”

  “So, what do you think? Was she a prisoner? But then why didn’t they eat her?”

  “I don’t know – why don’t you ask her?”

  David turned to see that Lizbit had snuck up behind him. She pointed to her teeth and shook her head.

  “I no eat people.” She pointed to herself. “Me – no good. They no eat me.”

  “No good? How?” David asked.

  Lizbit shook her head. David looked to Cyrus. “Any idea?”

  “Something marked her out. Not enough for them to kill her. Maybe they were scared of her in some way, or at least scared of killing her.”

  “Zero now,” Lizbit said.

  “Yup,” Cyrus said. “You sure are.”

  They walked on in silence. When they stopped for a rest, they checked each other over for dirt worms, picking them off and smearing them when they found them. Lizbit picking over him made David squirm almost as much as the dirt worms and so he sent her to inspect Valen.

  “She’s clingy,” he said to Kala.

  “She owes you her life,” Kala said. She picked a few worms from behind his ear and squished them against a rock. “It’s a burdensome debt. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. She won’t leave you until she’s repaid you.”

  David groaned. “I don’t want to be repaid.”

  “Doesn’t work like that. There, done.” She scraped her finger on the rock again. “Now you check me.”

  “You can see why he picked this place,” Kala said.

  David looked along the length of the green valley. Sitting proud at the other end was a large Before building made of yellow stone. His first thought was that Brig didn’t deserve to live somewhere so sweet, but then he remembered that the mutant had held Eli here. Rather this for Eli than most of the places David had stayed since Amat.

  At least Eli was where he really belonged now, with his sister. They just needed to find a clue from Brig about where that might be.

  David had tried to put his feelings towards Brig aside, swamping them out with images of Sorrel and the life they would have, but his antagonism grew with every step they took towards the mutant’s lair. He had good reason to hate Brig, but for the sake of Sorrel and Eli, he had to conquer his loathing.

  Despite feeling cowed by the imposing building, David held himself straight as they approached. Acting fearless meant he was fearless. He determined to look Brig straight in the eye.

  They were on the wide shallow stairs in front of the building when the door opened and a mutant with closely shorn hair appeared. His head seemed to sit directly on his shoulders with no neck between the two. He stared at them with small dark eyes that looked as though they’d been drilled into his face.

  “State your business.”

  “We’re here to see Brig,” David said.

  “Who might you be?”

  David paused for a moment as he struggled to find an answer. Not friend, and stating he was foe would do them no favours.

  “An acquaintance,” Cyrus said.

  The mutant gave a sly smile as he repeated the word. “Acquaintance. Brig has many of those. And the rest of you – are you also acquaintances?” His gaze lingered on Kala. He dipped his head. “Olaf, at your service.”

  “Stop showing off, short stuff and tell your boss we’re here,” she said.

  Olaf’s smile disappeared into his mouth and was swallowed along with anything else he might have said as he slammed the door shut.

  David looked at the others. “What now?”

  “We wait,” Kala said.

  “How long for?” Having come so far and being so near, David was impatient.

  “As long as it takes. My guess is it won’t be long. You don’t just pass by this place – Brig will want to know why we’re here.”

  The words had not long left Kala’s lips when the door opened again. This time it was Brig himself. He towered over them at the top of the stairs, lacerating them with his piercing blue eyes.

  Seeing Brig in the flesh sent David reeling into a vortex of intense hatred and desperate need.

  “The scouring wind rises in the Wastelands and blows its tumbleweed to my door.” Brig spoke for his own amusement, eyeing them one by one. “One dead in the head. Another a skin sack of bones. The next, small of mouth and golden-eyed, but knows how to handle herself. The one next to her only feels alive when he’s close to death. I recognise the look in his eye, but his face is a mystery. As are all the rest – all except you.” Brig stared at David. “I recognise you alright. You told Olaf you were an acquaintance, but I see hate in your eyes. You look more like enemy to me.”

  Think about Sorrel. Think about the log cabin where you’ll live. Think about Valen and Eli. Think about Einstein. Think about anything instead of how much you want to kill Brig. THINK ABOUT SORREL.

  Her face was in David’s mind when he took out his knife and laid it on the step beneath Brig’s feet.

  “I do not come here as your enemy.”

  Brig looked down at the knife and then at David.

  “Why do you come?”

  “I seek information.”

  Brig nodded. “Leave your weapons with Olaf and come inside.”

  “My home surprises you?”

  Irritated that Brig had caught him gawping, David shrugged.

  Brig smirked. “Despite what you might think, we’re not savages.”

  “Not savages,” Lizbit echoed.

  Olaf snickered.

  Brig had declined to answer any questions until they had e
aten, and so the five of them sat at a large table with Brig and Olaf and were served bowls of stewed meats and vegetables by another two mutants. Brig thanked them for their service. This was not the Brig David knew from the forced march.

  His frustration at the delay was soon abated when he tasted the food. After so many days chewing pemmican, the stew was a heartening and welcome meal.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Kala said.

  Brig dipped his head. “I am in a hospitable mood, but it may not last.”

  “You have lived here long?” Cyrus asked.

  “Long enough.”

  And so the conversation went throughout the meal, with Olaf snickering every time Lizbit repeated a phrase. When they had finished eating, Brig pushed his bowl away and looked across the table at David.

  “Speak.”

  “The child you took from Amat – Eli – his sister came here to claim him. She was travelling with a mutant named Einstein. I – we – need to know where they went from here.”

  Brig glanced at Olaf before answering. “What’s your interest in them?”

  “Sorrel – she’s my – we –”

  “He loves the girl,” Cyrus said.

  “Loves,” Lizbit repeated.

  Brig scowled when Olaf snickered.

  David’s face flamed. “Yes, I love her. And Eli. And Einstein is my friend. We were separated – I have to find them. That man,” David pointed at Valen, “he is Sorrel and Eli’s father. She doesn’t know he’s alive.”

  “He doesn’t know he’s alive,” Olaf muttered.

  “Enough,” Brig snapped at Olaf. “And I have heard enough from you,” he said to David. “This story is of no interest to me. Your people came and then they left. That’s all I know.”

  “They took Eli?”

  Brig narrowed his eyes. “Eli remains here.”

  “Why didn’t he go with Sorrel?”

  “Eli chose to stay with his dada.”

  David stood up, sending his chair clattering to the floor. He leaned across the table and shouted at Brig.

  “Sorrel is Eli’s sister, and Valen is his father, not you!”

  Unperturbed by David’s eruption, Brig pointed at Valen. “That hollow man? He is father to no-one, Eli least of all.”