by Max Masen
Tales From New Otrin (The Nomad)
Tales From New Otrin (The Nomad)
Midpoint
Tales From New Otrin
The Nomad Anthology Series
By Max Masen
The Nomad books are works of fiction and any similarities between real people and squirrels, both living and dead, are purely coincidental and products of the author’s deranged imagination. Any places that resemble real locales in the book are, again, purely coincidental, and have been fabricated for your enjoyment.
For FREE stories from our writers, visit Four Corners Studios
Cover design by Max Masen
I.
Brandgurt stands attentively in line behind his regiment. It's made up of various species, most of them crosses with human and another species. He holds the wooden spear in his right hand and a metal shield with his family crest- a gryphon with five wings- in his left hand firmly. The armor he wears is far from elegant; it's made up of Pre-Drop athleticwear, not that anyone living in New Otrin would know the difference. To them, whatever was found that was used from before The Drop must have had a more grandiose purpose than its true one actually was. A rugby helmet rests on his head, old and spliced down the center from what most likely was a head on collision. Hockey pads sit on his elbows and knees and an umpire's chestpiece is worn around his torso. The other soldiers of New Otrin also wear various displays such as this. But under Brandgurt's armor is a nervous, tense Grant, a species from the hills over New Otrin. His tribe had been conquered a hundred years before this moment. But now he represents the very people that had dismantled his society and forced him into their own. Grants have a light green skin color and eyes like serpents. The rest of their body is mostly human-like, however they have certain abilities that humans did not possess when it was their turn to walk the Earth.
"You all know your mission!" a woman atop a podium yells out to the crowd of soldiers. "Seek out the Brutes hiding in the cave that threaten us!"
The crowd of soldiers erupts. They begin yelling to increase their adrenaline and beating their spears against their shields.
Brandgurt knows the mission but he can't bring himself to reach the enlightened mood of the others. He beats the spear against the shield with little enthusiasm and with little effort. The thought of a horde of Brutes coming after him and the other soldiers forces his mind to spiral. They could kill all of us. Brutes are reminders to the people of the Yesterlands of what the previous humans living on Earth did to destroy the world. Brutes are radiation-soaked feral humans that attack anyone and anything that comes near them. It was a problem that was left unchecked for as long as Brandgurt had been alive. But now the people of New Otrin once more assemble an army and are prepared to finally do away with the threat of the Brutes.
The gates suddenly rise before the grouping of soldiers. Beyond the gates is the vastness of the Yesterlands, an open, decayed area that stretches for thousands of miles. For many of the soldiers this will be the first time they step foot outside of the safety of New Otrin. But they are prepared for what comes next. Their training has taught them not to fear what they see, not to run from what they witness.
But Brandgurt's heart starts to beat violently. His breathing increases with the heart rate. His fear overcomes him but then for a moment, there's calm. He can think clearly. Then that dissipates and he is left with a surge of adrenaline when it's his turn to go. He follows the soldiers in front of him, civilians on both sides waving goodbye to the soldiers, hoping they will return. A sense of euphoria comes over him from the excitement of both the soldiers and the excited civilians.
But once beyond the gate, it closes behind them and the euphoria is gone. He is left with the realization that the mission is still ahead and he has to earn the crowd's excitement now.
II.
Brandgurt leaps over a small, decrepit fence and lands in a tomato garden. They've gone into a neighborhood with what appears to be a few peaceful residents living there. The detachment of soldiers Brandgurt is assigned to numbers twenty-six, and most of them are the younger of the main force.
Brandgurt steps lightly through the garden, careful not to step on any growing crops. The soldiers around him are not so delicate. They stomp around and pay little attention to what lies in their paths. It's their hope to go through the town largely unnoticed, or at least out of sight before the residents are able to take action. The soldiers hunch over while passing windows and talk quietly to avoid anyone that could be watching. They take note of a few spectators watching from their windows. This hurries their movement. They know the town militia could be ready to fight within a few moments of notice.
Brandgurt walks through the garden, his mind idly wandering. A fellow soldier, Kattey, comes up and puts his hand on Brandgurt's shoulder, gaining his attention quickly. Brandgurt looks to him and his eyes light up.
"What is it?" Brandgurt asks quietly.
"Boss says we're taking a right up ahead. Pass it on." Kattey moves away from Brandgurt and motions to another soldier nearby to deliver the same message.
Brandgurt walks slowly to a fellow soldier and grabs his shoulder and bends him over to whisper in his ear. An idea suddenly appears in Brandgurt’s mind, a chance for freedom and a chance for adventure. But he disregards these notions and says to the soldier, “We’re going right ahead.” The soldier nods in acknowledgement. “Pass it on.” The message is passed down the long line of soldiers and eventually becomes common knowledge that the path they are going to take ahead is to the right. But an angry group of farmers armed with farming tools and hunting tools present themselves in front of the soldiers. The soldiers stand up and switch to defensive positions. Brandgurt grips his spear and shield tightly. The helmet slowly slides down his forehead but he quickly pushes it back up. A vibe of intense nervousness is present in the ranks of the soldiers. The farmers number at least one hundred. Men, women, and children all are armed in defense of their neighborhood.
The General of the New Otrin soldiers- an old but well-built man with pointy ears and red skin- steps forward with arms raised and with a peace-seeking smile on his face. “We mean you no harm.” He speaks as if the audience of farmers is simple, stupid. “The group of soldiers you see with me is meant to attack a group of Brutes that threaten your lives here.”
Silence hangs in the air. The farmers maintain stern expressions, not a single one of them stepping forward to address the General directly. The General stands awkwardly and tries to maintain his exuberant expression. It quickly fades. A flash of light is seen from deeper into the woods and a bullet suddenly finds its way into the General’s chest. He falls over into the garden.
“Form a shield wall!” a soldier screams.
“They have firearms!” another adds.
The soldiers group up together and raise their shields to protect themselves while a small barrage of bullets land all around them. The barrage suddenly ends and a soldier yells, “That’s all they have! Charge!” The shield wall breaks down and each soldier becomes his or her own unique person again instead of a single cog in the wall. Brandgurt charges onward with his allies around him, each armed with their shield and spear. They group together and use their shields for protection as they move up. The mob of farmers form a line and raise their tools. Some of them shoot arrows from bows into the crowd of soldiers. Brandgurt finally reaches the battle line and the soldiers use the shields to their advantage. The initial rush from the soldiers forces down many of the farmers. Brandgurt’s face nears one of the farmer’s, a girl appearing to Brandgurt to be not much younger than himself. Her face appears grizzly and rough, battle paint streaked down her pale skin. He raises his spear and strikes it into her stoma
ch. She falls back into the crowd of farmers and topples over a group of them. Another soldier approaches Brandgurt and triumphantly slaps him on the back as the soldiers’ battle line advances and the farmers’ dissipates. The battle is nearly over; the farmers flee in various directions, even their sharpshooters.
The soldiers advance and unleash victorious battle cries. A few of the soldiers push on and cut down their fleeing foe but most stand back and admire the fact that they still stand alive and have survived their first encounter.
III.
“That was a close one, eh, Brandgurt?” a soldier hisses. His skin is coarse like a lizard’s and he shares the eyes of one also.
Brandgurt takes his eyes away from the fire in front of him and puts the gloves back on his hands to fend off the cold of the wind. Overnight the temperature plummets and a few soldiers have already suffered from cases of frostbite. Brandgurt looks to the soldier and says behind confident eyes, “It was, Sheenja. It was.”
“I saw you strike down the woman,” Sheenja says suddenly. “Not even a second to contemplate.”
“Yes,” Brandgurt replies solemnly. “And what is it you would have done?” He raises an eyebrow in anticipation.
“The same thing.” Sheenja looks away from Brandgurt and back at the fire. “I think anyway. I was too far in the back. I guess I don’t know for sure. I didn’t get a chance to test it like you did.”
“What are you getting at, Sheenja?” Brandgurt asks, annoyance coming through in his voice.
“I just wanted to know… what it was like,” Sheenja replies, diverting his gaze away from Brandgurt.
“Don’t know,” Brandgurt says with little contemplation. “It was in the moment. Hard to tell what it felt like. All I felt was a rush of adrenaline because I cared more about keeping myself alive.”
“Makes sense.” Sheenja goes quiet. He stands in place, eyes trained on the blaze.
“And yet this answer doesn’t please you. So tell me what you wanted to hear me say, Sheenja. That I liked it? That maybe it gets easier? Because I just don’t know!” The attention of the camp of soldiers is quickly diverted to Brandgurt and Sheenja. Brandgurt lowers his voice and continues, “I’m sorry. I just really don’t know what to tell you. I guess it took a piece of me to do it. And maybe it will every time.”
“Every time?” Sheenja pries.
“Surely that won’t be the last time. But even you knew that. Maybe it will be you in the front next time and me in the back.
IV.
Brandgurt, Sheenja, and a third soldier, Racjack, climb through a lush forest on the side of a mountain. A trail has been previously cut for the three of them but they choose not to follow it for long; it could be a game trail and may lead them to a dangerous animal. They veer off and find berries emerging from a small plant. Racjack bends down and plucks a few and tosses a few into his mouth and then a few into his pack. The walk is mostly silent, hard feelings still being felt between Sheenja and Brandgurt. Captain Zene, the woman in charge of the regiment knew it would be best to send Racjack as a mediator for their scouting mission.
“You guys see anything yet?” Sheenja asks. He sounds irritated and swats at flies swarming his face.
“Nothing,” Brandgurt replies. “Maybe we should get back on the trail for a little while longer. It will be faster.”
“It seems too dangerous,” Sheenja says back.
“I agree,” Racjack cuts in. “I don’t like the thought of an tracer bear coming down that trail at us. We stay on here or a little longer and see if we can find a road.”
“We already know we won’t find a road this far out. There’s no civilizations anywhere near here,” Brandgurt says sternly.
Racjack swings around to face Brandgurt and sets his pack down. He throws the pieces of the tent that he carries off of his back and they scatter on the uneven ground. “What do you suggest, Brandgurt?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Brandgurt replies weakly. He sets his pack down also. “We’ve been travelling for almost a full day now without rest, food, or water. We haven’t even passed a stream! It’s just-”
“Shhh!” Sheenja quickly lunges forward and cups Brandgurt’s mouth. Brandgurt squirms and a semblance of a voice comes from his mouth. “Up ahead. Do you see that?” Sheenja points to a figure ahead of them wearing a flowing white gown. It has long, black hair that goes down almost the length of the gown. “What- what is it?”
Racjack motions for the other two to get lower and they go down to a crouching position. “Conceal your weapons,” Racjack whispers. Because of the long trek, the three of them left their spears and shields back at the camp and have taken short swords in their places for easy maneuvering.
“Should we go check it out?” Brandgurt asks.
“Of course. We won’t be safe here unless we take care of it now,” Racjack replies. He still stares off and his eyes trace the path the silhouette had taken.
“I’ll go.” Sheenja steps forward, pushing his chest out confidently. “I’m the fastest and I will easily stay undetected.” He makes a show of it by instantly camouflaging his skin against the color of the tree behind him.
“Enough showing off, Sheenja,” Racjack says seriously. “Just go get it done. Check it out and report back.”
Sheenja remains out of sight and travels from tree to tree as he gets closer to the dark figure. The figure bends down and Sheenja sees that it lowers itself near a pond of water. It cups the water into its hands and drinks it up. Sheenja takes to the ground and slithers up to the figure. He is close to the gown when the figure reaches its hand down and grasps Sheenja’s throat. It lifts Sheenja up and he can see the figure’s pale, lifeless face. It has long, transparent teeth. Sheenja instantly recognizes it.
“You- you’re Shaun of the Dead. A god. How-” Sheenja becomes lost for words.
“It is I, lizard,” Shaun says emphatically and with a powerful burst from his gut.
“If you’re here than that must mean…” Sheenja’s voice tapers off and he starts to sweat.
Shaun laughs powerfully and replies, “Don’t fear, lizard. It is true that my presence means death is come. But not to you or the two you are with. Only to those that have been lured to this forest by my evil sister, Dawn. Will you assist me, mortal, in capturing her?”
Without thought, Sheenja says back, “Of course we will.”
V.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” Brandgurt says quietly to Racjack. The two of them saunter at a distance away from Sheenja and Shaun. Sheenja shoots Brandgurt a menacing look, his serpent eyes peering deep into Brandgurt’s.
Shaun puts his hand on Sheenja’s shoulder and says calmly, “It’s okay, my friend. Brandgurt means us no harm.”
Brandgurt is caught off guard. How could he have heard me? he wonders to himself. “Sorry about that, Shaun. It’s just… usually visits from a god are mischievous in nature. And-”
“And you want to know why I’m really here, yes?” Shaun says politely.
“I guess that is what I’m saying.” Brandgurt looks to Racjack nervously.
“Well, what I told you was the truth. My sister, Dawn, leads mortals into these woods and commits them to it. She uses her magic to make wanderers end their own lives. And I’ve seen it go on for long enough.” Shaun keeps his gaze ahead.
“And if we help you, god, then we get a reward. That is what the legends say, yes?” Racjack wonders, a cocky smile coming to his face.
Shaun turns around, a sinister smirk suddenly appearing across his visage. “We will see, won’t we?” He quickly turns back around and trains his eyes back on the path.
Racjack motions to Brandgurt and whispers, “I don’t like that answer.” Brandgurt shakes his head in agreement.
Shaun leads the four of them to a cabin sitting curiously alone and unbothered. It appears to Brandgurt to decidedly be Pre-Drop. He eyes the windows and notices that aside from a layer of dust, it appears completely undiscovered.