by James Garvey
Theo shakes his head at English. "What happened to you, fool? You shouldn't been drinking that night at the village. Serves you right we left you."
"Sorry 'bout that. I was feeling a bit glum. You won't see me in that fashion again." His slurring voice betrays him. The shine's already settling into his blood. He continues. "I woke up in that haze. Couldn't see my hands in front of me. That's when I heard ‘em shuffling in the fog."
"What you mean by them?" Theo asks. By the drawn, concerned look on Samuel's wrinkled face, we're not going to like what we hear.
"My head was pounding more than usual after a night of overindulging, if you know what I mean. I thought at first that the footsteps belonged to you all. But then they starting groaning." English takes a long draught, his eyes vacant. "I swear the villagers - they was rising from the pit and other resting places. Brown mist was dripping off them like dew or snot. The ones I could see were bloated and smelled something awful. If it wasn't for the whinnying of Claire, I'd surely have been suffocated by the bodies. There's no way I'd let them harm my horse, so I jumped up, ran straight toward her, and somehow we got away. A few of the stinkies challenged us, but I dispatched them with my blade and Claire trampled what was left. Other things were forming in that fog. We didn't stay to see what they were. About a half mile from the town, the haze lifted and we headed north. We followed Theo's stone piles and here we are. It wasn't tough to find Samuel. The smoke from his fire traveled for miles down the mountainside. If whatever was in the village is looking for us, it knows where we are." English shoots a boozy, nasty look at Samuel.
Samuel responds calmly. "I done it for your sake and mine. You could of used the direction and I needed some help up here."
Theo's clearly ready to wrap the night. "Time to sleep. At dawn, we start heading south toward the ocean. We have no time to spare."
English is oiled now. "You mean to tell me that you dragged us all the way up the mountain to go back down the mountain? Horseshit, Theo."
Theo's too spent to argue. He produces the tablet from the facility and touches the screen. A bright image of the mountainside appears before him, particularly colorful and lucid in the dark. Our location's betrayed by a blinking blue light. The road we followed up the mountain is clearly marked as a red vein. English drops his flask. Samuel exclaims, "I'll be dipped."
"This’s why we came up here. We now have a guide to our next stop. Tomorrow we travel. Now shut it and sleep." And the image from the magic pad goes dark.
CHAPTER 8-DESCENT
Morning’s arrived and we’re clopping back toward the sea. We're taking a route that avoids Flip's village, but there's still a chance we might encounter the nefarious tan fog. We're tense, cold, and tired. The horses seem happy for the exercise and the sun’s burning through the clouds. I'm elated to see and feel warm rays touching my skin. We're on the right track. Troll's message about the shipwrecked visitors was meant for us. These people will have the ability to help us find Eliza, father, and Wenn.
Bets seems healthier this morning. She's complaining of a headache, but her dizzy spells are less frequent. She’ll have a nice scar on her forehead. Theo has transformed into a leader. Atop Silius, I see a man, not a boy. Theo's eyes are deeper and his shoulder bears an invisible burden, which sadly suits him well. English has receded back to his blank self. Now that the shine has left his system, he's outwardly oblivious to the dangers we'll soon face. Samuel looks much older. I swear that he’s taking short naps on the back of his steed. His beard is whiter.
Around noon, Theo gives Samuel and English lessons with the weapons we scored from the facility. I'd have liked for us to have retrieved the remainder of the arsenal we left underground. But Troll's reincarnated spirit would have none of that. Regardless, we have a considerable advantage now over most of our adversaries. I do wonder how the creatures in the fog, the walking dead, or the monsters that destroyed our town would respond to our new weapons. I desperately hope we don’t have to find out.
We mount our horses and continue our descent through the dense forest. Samuel is clearly invigorated. “Imagine the game I could bag with one of them rifles.”
Theo throws a chunk of hard tack at him. “Samuel, we’ve only got so much ammo. You’ll need to stick to the arrows and snares for food.”
Samuel grunts and strokes his thick beard.
Bets rides next to Theo. They pull ahead and talk about something in a hush. Bets occasionally turns to look back at us, as if we might be hearing their conversation.
English and Samuel don’t notice or don’t care. In contrast, I feel something strange inside. Could that be jealousy? I let my worries about my family beat that green, unpleasant sensation back. Still, if they are an item, Theo could do better than Bets. She’s spiteful and angry. I’d wager she’s trying to convince Theo to abandon our search and have them leave me on my own. Or worse, she's suggesting that Samuel and English serve as my only companions while he and she bed down somewhere and raise a family.
We ride downhill another two days and then head south along a smaller, flatter road. This route is well traveled, a merchant’s path. Usually, we'd encounter many carts and men on horseback. Not now. The way is deserted. Even the birds and squirrels are scarce. The air's warm and I can smell the sea. We camp by a small stream. The burbling soothes me and I wish we could just stop here. Theo expects that we have another couple of days of travel before we head west toward the ocean. Bets and English are in the scrub hunting for dinner. I'm gathering some herbs and water for a stew. Theo has largely abandoned the leather book from the elders and is now fixated on the tablet from Troll's compound. It contains much more than maps. Images of the ancient world emerge vividly, moving as if they are alive. There are countless images of text that we cannot read and drawings of things that have no meaning to us. The map continues to show where we are relative to the vessel we're seeking. It reminds us how small our world was and how big it is going to become.
Samuel has disappeared. We assumed that he was visiting the bushes to empty his bowels. That was an hour ago. Bets and English did not see him when they returned with dinner. It's uncanny that he's missing a meal. Another hour passes. The stew's bubbling and we're chewing on some delicious honeycomb that I found in a hollow tree. Theo points out that it'd be best that we don't shout Samuel's name. If he's lost, the smell of the cook pot should lure him back. No need for us to draw unnecessary attention.
Dinner is over and I'm rinsing the pot when I hear crashing in the woods. I see Samuel's stark beard before the rest of him emerges. His eyes bulge. Sweat drips from his forehead. He mutters, "Put out the fire. We've got to be quiet."
English quickly kicks the fire, scattering the logs and embers. Bets scoops dirt on the remaining flames. Theo grabs Samuel's forearm. "Samuel, man, what's the matter?"
"I decided to take a walk after getting some relief, if you know what I mean." He pats his lower belly. "I heard a commotion and saw movement in a nearby clearing. I snuck up and saw a group of people, well armed with light armor and lots of blades. I figured they was like us. Maybe lost their town and were forced to roam around. Then I saw the same damned things, monsters, that leveled our home." His voice cracks and a single tear perches on his eyelid. "The people were feeding the creatures, parts. Human body pieces. Arms, legs, heads. Horrible. Just like I were at the butcher’s." The tear runs down his cheek.
English shakes his head. "Samuel, you've got to be hitting the shine. This surely can't be."
"I believe it," Theo whispers, distributing Troll's weapons among us. "We'd better be ready. How many people and things are there?"
"About ten good-sized men and a couple of ragged ass women. There are three monsters. Their weapons ain't going to match ours."
"We aren't planning to confront them, are we?" I ask. It seems suicidal for us to attack these things after what they did to our home. We are outmatched, even with the big guns and explosives.
Bets responds. "After what they did
to our families and friends, they deserve the wrath of hell. I say we surprise ‘em and blow their asses to Sunday morning."
Theo sighs. "We aren't fighting no one unless they pick the fight first. We can't afford to waste our ammo. We've got a plan and we're sticking to it."
Bets kicks at some coals, her cheeks reflecting the ruddy hue. Samuel and English seem relieved. I just want to crawl into my bed sack and disappear.
We pack the horses and quietly depart in the blanket of darkness. We ride for about ten minutes before the trees fall on us. At least, I think they're trees. The branches scrape my face while leaves whirl around the horses' hooves. Theo shouts, "Dismount and follow my voice."
I jump off Phineus, who’s snorting loudly, but before my feet touch the ground, an enormous set of arms grabs me. I'm being carried off into the woods, with the shouts and grunts of the men and Bets growing more distant. I beat on the arms with little effect. I yell for the others but doubt they hear me. I can't see my captor well. Its body is frigid and damp in the warm sea air. It doesn't seem to be breathing, although it occasionally produces a low grumble. Most disconcerting is that I can't tell where it ends, because it doesn't have sharp edges. Rather, its form is constantly shifting, like fog on the water.
We near a well-lit clearing, glowing orange-red with firelight. My stomach drops as I realize that it must be the same spot Samuel saw. I'd prefer not to die as meat for some alien creature. This isn't how it's supposed to end for me. The creature drops me in front of a lanky, auburn-haired woman dressed in a simple, stained red dress. Veins criss-cross her arms, a small wooden staff clutched between her steely fingers. I examine the creature that captured me. It drips with moisture, like ice brought out of the cellars during summer. Its skin is mud brown. I see no eyes. Rather, its head is dominated by an enormous grinning mouth with large blocky teeth. The thought of being crushed by those jaws consumes me.
“Get up,” the woman in red orders. I rise before her. Three large, scraggly men stand behind me, pushing me forward with their staffs. "Who are you?"
I remain silent. None of my companions has appeared. Perhaps I'm the only one captured and they'll rescue me soon. Or they're dead or scattered and I'm doomed.
"Speak to me or we'll hack you to pieces and feed you to the grubs."
I consider this for the moment. It's time to speak. "I'm a spice merchant traveling between towns. I have no business with you. If you let me go, I won't speak of this to anyone. Mercy please."
Red dress shakes her head. "The towns along this route are all dust, thanks to me. You've been doing no business. I'm giving you one last chance. Who are you and your friends?"
"My name's Bets Fenster. My village was destroyed and we've no home left. We're looking for a new place to settle."
"What's the name of your town, girl?"
Foolishly, I find myself telling her the real name of my former home.
Red dress grunts. "That's impossible. We destroyed that place as well as the surrounding villages. No one survived, except those I let go."
These people could have Eliza or know where she is. I ask, "Were you looking for someone? There, in my village?"
"We are looking for the family of Marksman. Do you know them?"
I reel, tensing all my muscles to keep from dropping to my knees. My mind’s blurring. I've no idea what to do next. One of the goons slams the back of my leg with his staff and I fall forward into the dirt. My palms scrape the rocks, filling with blood.
Then strangely, red dress bends down, grabs my arm, and gently lifts me up. She says gently, "He shouldn't have done that. Something tells me that I need to know you better. My name's Thresh. Let's sit and talk, between women." She gives the man that knocked me down a sullen frown. He looks at me nervously and recedes into the darkness of the woods.
We walk over to a musty canvas tent. The interior is simple, with a table, a cot, and three chairs. “Sit,” Thresh commands. She produces a bottle of amber-tinted shine and pours two cups. “I know who you are.”
A trickle of sweat runs down my back. My hand trembles as I reach for the cup and take a sip.
"You’re the mother of the little one and a descendent of a line of people close to the earth. You're a Marksman. Isn't it strange how fate brought you here to us?"
Anger replaces fear. "Where's my daughter? What have you done with her?" I search the tent for a weapon. I consider pummeling her with my chair.
"So, I'm correct." Thresh settles back in her chair and gulps her drink.
I rise and lunge for her. In an impossible instant, she's risen and blocks me with her staff, which I swear wasn't there a moment ago. She pushes me back into my chair.
She snorts. "What's your first name, Marksman? You'll be joining us for a long time, so we should get to know each other." I stare at her wishing she'd die. "That's fine if you choose not to chat. You'll eventually turn around. You're wondering what's special about you and your daughter, yes? What makes you two worth so much death and mayhem? And there's a lot of blood on your back, Marksman." She cracks her neck and stretches luxuriously. "Well, you have a gift, a connection with the earth. This ability to see…" She pauses. "Feel or sense what's beyond the greenery and the soil and the very fabric of all this...well, that's special. Turns out that I have that too. And, for all I know, we're the only people left on earth who can do that."
She doesn't know about Flip. Or maybe she does. Perhaps the attack on his village also happened because he was different like me - us. I look over this red woman and wonder if she really believes what she just told me. I suppose I ought to talk. Perhaps I can divine the location of Eliza and figure out a way for us to escape this horrible place. "My name's Amy Marksman. I'll do whatever it takes to get my girl back and kill you."
Thresh laughs. "You’ll get your girl. But you won't kill me. So, Amy, where've you been since we visited your town? Sorry about the mess."
"Looking for my daughter. Can I see her?"
"If you tell me what I want to know. How many were traveling with you?"
"Ten others, heavily armed. They'll come back for me. What are those things with you? They're not of this earth, are they?"
Thresh doesn't seem concerned about my exaggeration. "The creatures - we call them grubs. They found me, actually. I was living with my stepfather. My mother left him and me years ago. He was a mean, nasty son of a bitch. Beat me. The whole town turned their backs while he thrashed the hell out of me." She pulls down the front of her dress and shows me scars running across her breasts and stomach. "I'm descended from a line of oystermen. We grew mussels and oysters for the village through the years. My stepfather exploited my gift and forced me to harvest beyond what the beds could support. His greed was killing the productive coastline that took my kin centuries to cultivate. I have a sister somewhere. She ran away years ago – too weak to face the man."
"Where'd the grubs come from?" I'm afraid I already know the answer.
"They came down from the mountains in a thick, brown fog. Its the way the others-the ones from beyond this world, this reality- travel. They shape the grubs from the fog....use it like clay in their image and travel in them. I discovered I could talk with them - the grubs. I asked for emancipation. They'd give it to me for my allegiance. And my knowledge. They taught me how to use the fog to raise the dead - my own way to shape beings in my own way. Like a god. Can you believe the luck? The villagers saw that I could communicate with the grubs and feared me. The walking dead didn't help, I guess.” She giggles. “They accused me of witchery and tried to hang me. The grubs and I eliminated them all. The townspeople serve me better dead than alive."
"You sold out all those people for your freedom?"
"Gladly. My family fed those innocent people for generations and they turned on me. People fail you in the end. The grubs, they're the family I've got. The images, visions, they send are magnificent. They hold promise for a new world. I want to be part of it. In charge of it."
"The dead. Ho
w do you make them rise?"
"I don't know exactly. I summon them and can see through their eyes. I think you'll be able to see through them as well. I need you to join me."
Realization dawns on me. I'm a freak like Thresh. I'm as much to blame for these horrors as she is. I gather my strength and ask, "Then who are those people with you?"
"Disciples. Converts. Not sure what to call them. But I convinced them that following me is the path to salvation. Or else they become dinner for the grubs." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "Let's go see your girl."
I hate myself for feeling something strangely like gratitude toward Thresh. We rise and head for the entrance. We both jump at the sound of a woman's voice outside. It’s Bets yelling for her captors to release her. We enter the clearing to find Bets flat on the ground, hands bound behind her back, flopping like a fish out of water. She sees me. “Marksman, for gods’ sake, what happened to you? Tell them to let me go.”
“Bets, I don’t think they’ll listen to me.”
Thresh orders her goons, “Let Bets stand up.” She turns to me. “I presume that you two are acquainted? Bets, please tell me. How many more of you are wandering the woods?”
Bets spits at Thresh, struggling to free herself from the arms of the two men holding her. She’s furious and bleeding profusely from her forehead.
I say, “Bets meet Thresh. I don’t think you two are going to see eye to eye on things. Bets, they have the monsters that destroyed our village. I’d do what they say or you’re going to be ripped to pieces and eaten.”
This declaration agitates Bets further as she’s dragged away into a nearby tent. I’ll find Eliza first and worry about Bets later. Thresh leads me to a small tent at the edge of the clearing. Joy fills me as I hear the sound of a little girl giggling. I rush toward the tent and am about to enter when I’m knocked back by a huge rush of air. It’s a concussion grenade smacking into one of the nearby tents. Thresh shouts orders to her followers. The grubs fan out toward the edge of the clearing. I try to rise but my left leg is limp. I look down at my hands, which are slick with blood. Impossibly white bone juts out of my shin. I murmur, “Eliza” and the scene vanishes.