Scorched: The Last Nomads (The Burnt Earth Series Book 1)

by Melanie Karsak

  There was the strange feeling of static in the air then the clockwork device began clicking. A moment later, strings of colorful lights which had been attached to the ceiling of the trolley flickered on, and the engine of the trolley quieted. Thinking the machine had stalled, I went back to the driver’s seat but found everything still working. A new set of lights on an attachment on the dash, however, had flickered on.

  Curious.

  I rose and went back to the panel. Everything was running smoothly. Smiling, I stared up at the colorful lights. The glow made me feel joyful.

  The trolley shook a little as someone else joined me. I looked to find Bodi there.

  He smiled up at the lights then at me. He clapped softly.

  Grinning, I took a little bow, socket wrench in one hand, a screwdriver in the other.

  Bodi chuckled. “Does this mean you’re done working?”

  “As long as nothing catches fire in the next few minutes, I think so.”

  “Good. It’s almost time for our last performance.”

  “More fire breathing?”

  Bodi scoffed. “That would be predictable.”

  “All right. I think I’ve earned a little entertainment.”

  He smiled and motioned for me to follow him. I stopped to turn off the trolley then headed outside.

  Most of the community at The Park had already gathered to watch. Sitting on blankets or in chairs they had brought from home, everyone readied themselves as the players prepared behind a screen.

  Bodi left me, and I joined Ronan and Samara, who wrapped her arm around my waist and gave me a soft hug. The little man appeared on the makeshift stage carrying a wide leather drum. He sat down in one corner. He was wearing a colorful purple and silver outfit ornamented with ribbons of every color. He drummed a solemn, rhythmic beat which had an odd effect on the crowd. Everyone became silent. The sound of the drum shifted to mimic that of a heartbeat. The music set my nerves on edge and gave me an uneasy feeling.

  The sisters appeared from behind the screen, one dressed in a blue and green gown which had been embroidered with the shapes of the continents. The other sister wore solar colors, gold, red, and yellow, fiery flames on the hem of her dress and on her sleeves. The gowns were beautiful, but it was the masks they wore that got my attention. The sister in the dress representing Earth wore a mask that bore a carefree smile whereas the sun wore a sinister grin. The monstrous masks over-accentuated the wearer’s features and added a grotesque ambiance. A feeling of foreboding made my stomach twist.

  Legba appeared on stage. He wore a dark suit and carried a scythe. His mask, like those the sisters wore, showed over-developed features. But his expression was almost entirely blank. The mask showed the wearer with their eyes closed.

  The sister dressed as Earth spun contentedly, as if unaware of the looming sun and the figure of death. The drumbeat changed again, an ominous foretelling of what we all knew would come.

  With a sweeping movement, Legba stepped forward and seemed to cut the legs out from under Earth.

  Earth fell to the ground. In wordless pantomime, Sun jumped on top of her. Sun wore long, sharp claws—gloves, actually—and ripped and tore Earth’s beautiful green and blue gown away. Earth screamed in terror. The pain in her voice felt real. It reverberated across The Park. Everyone stiffened. The violence of the scene startled me. They had to be really hurting each other. My hands shook, and much to my surprise, a lump rose in my throat. Earth screamed, fought, and cried. But she could do nothing.

  When she was defeated, Earth lay whimpering on the ground. The sound was terrible, heartbreaking. Her green and blue robes lay forgotten beside her. She wore a stark dress made of brown rags. Still grinning, Sun twirled casually away, leaving the devastated Earth behind.

  The drumbeat changed, the heart rate slowing.

  Earth lay dying.

  She whimpered helplessly for a long time then became very still.

  The image of it was horrifying.

  It seemed like an eternity passed as we all just stood and watched the shattered Earth lying there slowly dying. The scene lasted longer than felt comfortable. People shifted nervously and tried to look away from the terminal planet. When the sense of disease hit its crescendo, Manderly appeared on stage in a dress of silver and white, a crown of glittering stars on her head. Her mask showed a placid face. She stood gazing at the fallen Earth but did nothing to help.

  The drumbeat morphed, fast and slow, and behind the screen, a wail sounded.

  I jumped.

  Had I not known better, I’d have thought it to be an actual wailer. Other howls, yips, and barks joined in.

  A moment later, a figure in black, wearing a mask that looked like a wailer, stepped on stage.

  Bodi.

  The wailer crept toward Earth.

  At the front, one of the children shrieked and buried her face into her mother’s side.

  Circling the dying Earth, the wailer loomed ominously.

  Earth slowly sat up and tried to move away.

  The wailer pounced.

  The Earth—and the crowd—screamed.

  The wailer began choking the life from the helpless Earth.

  One of the children started crying.

  Legba appeared once more with his scythe.

  We all watched and waited to see if the moon or death would intervene to save Earth. But they did nothing. Earth tried to fight off the wailer but was slowly being choked to death.

  “Help her,” Cox, one of the teenage boys in the community, called to Legba and Manderly.

  Legba stood looking on blindly.

  The moon did nothing. She simply observed.

  Earth’s cries were heartbreaking, but neither Legba nor Manderly moved.

  I could sense the frustration in the crowd.

  “Help her,” another boy called.

  Earth turned and reached out toward the audience. Her placid mask was gone, replaced by a horrific mask that showed terror and despair. When had she managed to change her mask? She shook her arms, begging for the audience’s help.

  Legba, who had been watching the exchange, looked up at the audience.

  Cox, clearly frustrated, jumped up and rushed to the stage.

  His mother rose to stop him, but Legba motioned to her to wait.

  Lost to the play, Cox pulled Bodi—performing as the wailer—off Earth and pushed him away. Bodi yipped and ran offstage. Cox reached down and helped Earth up.

  The drumming stopped.

  And so did Cox who stood frozen, looking from Earth to us, apparently startled by what he had done.

  We all sat in silence as the meaning of the pantomime settled in.

  To my great surprise, I felt a tear slip down my cheek.

  When I looked at Samara, I saw that she too was crying.

  A moment later, Carrington began clapping. The rest of the crowd followed suit.

  Legba crossed the stage and patted Cox on the back, whispering something in his ear.

  Suddenly embarrassed, the boy slipped offstage.

  Everyone clapped and whistled, myself included.

  The rest of the players joined the stage then, removing their masks, and took a bow.

  I waited to see if Legba or Ramsey would preach the message of the play, but the unsettled feeling in my chest was all the preaching needed.

  “The Park, we thank you for your hospitality,” Legba said. “I hope our entertainments have brought you some delight and eased your long days. We will depart in the morning richer for having made your acquaintance. And we thank you.”

  At that, the entire cast joined hands then bowed.

  The audience clapped and cheered.

  “Come, friends. Let’s all enjoy a dinner tonight in Park Building to bid our friends farewell. I understand Gutierrez has been hounding you to cook all day. Let’s eat with our guests one last time and give thanks for their news, merriment, and poignant reminder,” Ramsey said.

  Legba inclined his head, and
with that, everyone followed Ramsey to Park Building.

  Chapter 13

  I cast a glance in the direction of Park Building. I’d been so busy that day I hadn’t even realized the others had been preparing a feast. As the others departed, I noticed that some of them they were carrying baskets of food. The crops grown on the easternmost edge of The Park were meager. This meal would cost us, and we would need the supplies from Low Tide more than ever. Without a sustainable solution, The Park would not make it. In six years, when the Dead Troupe passed by once more, would we be gone?

  Enrique emerged from the crowd and came toward me.

  “Keyes, Ramsey said you agreed to let me take the motorcycle. Legba told me I could attach the bike to the back of their trolley. It would be better if I worked on it while the others were…distracted,” he said in a low voice, looking back at the crowd headed toward Park Building.

  Ronan raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

  “Keyes, make sure you come eat something,” Samara said, frowning at Enrique.

  I smiled at her. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit.” I looked back at Enrique. “Yeah, come on.”

  I led Enrique to the garage where the bike sat parked. I lifted the fuel can the Dead Troupe had given me and filled the tank to the top. After, I gave Enrique a brief run-down on how to get the bike started. “Once the engine is warm, you should be good to go.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back tomorrow night with news. Even if Ash and the others aren’t ready to come back, I’ll return so everyone knows,” Enrique said reassuringly.

  Again, I nodded.

  Taking that as all the acknowledgment he was going to get, Enrique left, pushing the bike over to the trolley. Tiny was waiting to help him secure the bike to the back.

  I frowned. I still needed to convince Legba to let me come, and time was running out.

  I dropped the fuel can off by the door of the trolley and headed back to my house to clean up. I slipped out of my sweat-soaked shirt only to realize all of my clothes were in need of laundering. I cast a glance at Ash’s clothes then grabbed her maroon and gray shirt. As I slid it on, I caught my sister’s scent. The smell of the soap we used to wash our clothes clung to the fabric, but so did that sweet smell that always perfumed my sister’s hair. I smiled, comforted by the smell, and safe in the knowledge there was no way Ash would ever know I had borrowed her shirt—a forbidden act.

  Freshened up, I headed to Park Building. A long table had been set up in the lobby. I saw flatbread, peppers, beans, okra, and even a few pieces of melon. Someone had even opened a few of the canned foods. There were also sweet treats which the children were circling like vultures. I looked over the crowd, seeing Cox—the teenaged boy who had saved Earth—with a group of his friends. The boy looked abashed, but the others looked at him like he was a hero.

  For the first time in what felt like a long time, the residents of The Park looked truly happy. They shared their food with one another. As I eyed over the table, however, I worried. A lot of these foods should have been preserved for later. I hoped, at least, someone had remembered to remove the seeds.

  “Keyes,” Carrington said gently, setting her hand on my shoulder. “I hear you have been keeping busy. That’s good. Keeps your mind off things. Did you eat?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Get a bowl. Eat something. You’ve been hard at work all day.”

  I gave her a half-smile then headed to the table. I picked up a bowl, looked down across the table, then set the bowl back down.

  “Not hungry?” someone asked.

  I turned to see Manderly standing there.

  I handed her the keys to the trolley. “All set,” I told her.

  “So I heard. Thank you,” she said, slipping the keys into her pocket. She picked up a bowl then slowly selected this and that from the table.

  “Your performance was…thought-provoking.”

  She smiled a wide but knowing smile then inclined her head to me. “I am a fan of your work as well. Bodi said the lights inside the trolley are back on. My mother was the one who scavenged them. Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Manderly lifted one of the sweets and handed it to me. I caught the light scent of honey, a commodity in short supply now that most of the bee colonies we had at The Park had died off.

  I reached out and took it from her.

  “They say your sister is missing,” she said.

  He words felt like a gut punch. “Yes. She went to Low Tide. She hasn’t come back.”

  Manderly nodded. “You coming tomorrow?”

  “The elders said no.”

  “That isn’t what I asked you.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “And if I did, would it be an issue?”

  “Not for us. We see how it is here. Talk to Bodi.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “I… Thank you.”

  That slow smile crept across her face once more. “The lights…getting those back on is like getting my mother back. Missing someone who is gone forever is hard. Missing someone who might be gone is worse,” she said with a wink then wandered away.

  I took the sweet treat and leaned against the wall. I eyed the crowd to find Bodi standing there talking to Lexia, Friday, and Keerthi. I had grown up with those girls but never had much in common with them—until this moment. Their eyes were big as moons as they ogled the performer. Bodi smiled patiently. Then, as if he could feel me watching, he looked up at me and smiled.

  Keerthi followed his gaze, her dark eyes hardening when she saw me.

  What did she hope, that she could get him in bed that night before he left?

  Yeah, that was probably exactly what she hoped.

  I smiled then looked away. I felt annoyed with Keerthi. Didn’t she realize that she had as much hope of snagging Bodi as I had of eating a Bozo’s burger? She needed to leave him alone. He wasn’t like that. Or, at least, that’s what the sisters said. Anyway, who cares? It wasn’t my problem. She could do what she wanted. And so could he. I frowned, popped the treat, then headed back outside. I went to my house to grab my canteens and finish packing. I should probably leave Ronan a note. And maybe Carrington too. Maybe. Her heart was in the right place, and she and my mother had been dear friends, but still.

  It was already after dark when I finally had my satchel packed with tools, supplies, a change of clothes—including another of Ash’s shirts, but this one for her—and my journal. Two canteens were ready. With any luck, I would need almost none of it. Ash would be at Low Tide ready to scold me for leaving The Park and then scold me again for wearing her shirt. Outside, the wailers raged on. In some regard, it was almost easy to tune them out. They were a lurking menace, but as long as I was on this side of the wall, and they were on that side, it hardly mattered. But tomorrow, I would be on the other side of the wall. I remembered the play, the terrible squeezing feeling in my chest when I’d watched Earth ravaged by the wailer, and my relief when Cox stepped in.

  I wished there was someone that brave in the real world.

  I lay on my cot looking at the Bozo’s menu once more. There was a little insert on the side showing the eggnog milkshake and Christmas sandwich. Both looked delicious. My stomach growled in angry protest. I closed the menu and stuck it in my bag.

  Late in the evening, there was a soft knock on the door.

  I opened the door a crack—mindful that the watch always paid attention when anyone was roaming around The Park after lights out—to find Bodi there.

  “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or terrified at how convincing of a wailer you played,” I said. “Want to come in?”

  A look crossed Bodi’s face. His eyes spoke one answer, but his mouth spoke another. “That’s okay. You should get some rest. We talked. How about you join me on the roof of the trolley tomorrow before dawn?”

  “Okay.”

  Bodi nodded. “Okay. You sure, Keyes from The Park?”

>   “Yes.”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  “Are you…are you sure you don’t want to come in?” I asked again, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth.

  Bodi stepped closer. He reached out and touched my cheek. “I do want to come in. But…” He smiled helplessly. “Legba.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you in the morning, Red,” he said with a wink then departed, heading back to the trolley. As he left, I felt a twang of comfort in realizing Keerthi had not, in fact, won his attention. Instead, he’d found his way to my door. And he’d wanted to come in, but had been advised to…to mind his manners.

  That was a reason I could live with. After all, what in the hell was I doing inviting him inside anyway? I knew very well what it could lead to. Is that what I had wanted? Good God, I needed to find Ash before I did something foolish…or didn’t do something I should. I didn’t know. What I did know, however, was that I needed my sister.

  Chapter 14

  It was well before dawn when I slipped outside. The watch was canvassing the grounds and in the tower, but otherwise, all was still. I pulled the door to my home closed behind me with a soft click. I’d left notes for Ronan and Carrington. Both would understand, but both would still be upset. Gear in tow, I went to the Dead Troupe’s trolley and climbed up the ladder. Bodi lay sleeping on the roof. He’d spread out a mat and had set his hat aside. I eyed him. He was tall and lean, but as he lay there sleeping, I realized he probably wasn’t much older than myself. I bent low and shook his boot.

  He sat up, looked at me, then nodded. Moving carefully, he lifted a tarp covering some supplies on the roof. He motioned me to slide underneath. Moving carefully, I crawled under the tarp.

  “I’ll have to retie it, but it will be open enough that you can get air,” he whispered.

  I nodded, watching as he reworked the tarp. After that, he moved his mat to lay down beside me, looking at me through the narrow gap in the fabric.

  In spite of the danger of the road ahead, the fear that someone may notice and stop me, and the nagging ache of fear for Ash, I chuckled as I looked at Bodi peaking at me.