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

by Melanie Karsak

  “Look,” I told the others. “See the footprints? There and there? They made it this far. The prints come in from the west. The toes point toward the lighthouse. They were here.”

  I gazed across the horizon, looking downriver. Along the bank not far away, I saw where bank ledge had been disturbed recently.

  “And there. Look. See where the dirt is loose, chunks of mud and rocks on the ground? They came back down there. They were here, and then they left.”

  “Which direction did they go when then left?” Bodi asked.

  I looked back down at the footprints. The direction of the prints showed them coming in west from The Park. No prints returned that direction. From the direction the dirt had been disturbed on the other side of the bar, the answer was obvious.

  “They went east. Into Hell’s Passage.”

  I looked back to see Legba and Bodi exchange a glance.

  I stared downriver toward the foreboding skyline of Hell’s Passage.

  Oh, Ash. Where are you?

  Chapter 16

  Everyone was quiet as we walked back to the trolley. My sister had made it this far but had met with an unexpected problem. How long had it taken them to get here? Would they have time to get to safety before dark?

  I paused and waited for Enrique to catch up with me.

  “There are other safe houses along the way, aren’t there? Where would they have gone next?” I asked.

  Enrique frowned. “Nasir took the notebook with him. It lists the secondary stops. I don’t know. They could have gone anywhere.”

  Or we could soon find their remains on the street ahead.

  Enrique pulled out the map and studied it in silence.

  I slowed when we passed The Lighthouse Inn once more. I had been born too late. Everything good had already come and gone, including my parents. There was no life left. And now, Ash…

  I felt a soft hand take mine, fingers gently folding across my hand.

  “You okay?” Bodi whispered.

  “No,” I said, staring at the inn.

  “If your sister is anything like you, she found a way.”

  I exhaled deeply then turned back toward the road, mindful that my hand was still linked with Bodi’s.

  “My sister is stronger than me. And the others with her—Lordes, Nasir, and Faraday—are some of the most resilient people I know. You’re right. Ash would have found a way,” I said, feeling a bit more at ease.

  “Back there,” Bodi said, motioning back to the lighthouse. “How did you learn to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Track someone.”

  “What, you mean the footprints?”

  Bodi nodded.

  Was his hand always so warm, his grasp always so firm but gentle? “I don’t know. I was just looking for clues.”

  “But you noticed things none of the rest of us saw. Did someone teach you how to do that?”

  “No.”

  “Impressive. It’s a good trick, Red.”

  “It’s not like breathing fire or anything.”

  Bodi laughed softly. “Well, you’re not a half-dragon. Yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Yet.”

  “Don’t I need to find some treasure or solve a magical riddle or complete a quest for half-dragon status?”

  “And just what do you think you’re doing now?”

  He was right about that. But my treasure was made of flesh and blood. I smiled softly.

  Bodi let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a reassuring hug then let me go as we neared the barricade.

  The feel of his embrace had comforted me, and that strange flutter in my chest popped up once more. Feeling that, alongside the anxiety wracking my stomach, confused me. But I had liked the feeling of his arm around me.

  As we neared the trolley, Nara, Lyra, and Sparrow stepped toward us.

  “Nothing?” Lyra called.

  “The lighthouse burnt down, but their group was here—and gone. We’ll push east,” Manderly answered.

  “Damn,” Nara said.

  Manderly nodded then cast a glance toward me. She gave me a soft smile then crawled into the trolley.

  Wordlessly, we filed in behind her.

  Legba started the trolley. “Eyes on windows,” he called to the back.

  Lyra, Nara, Bodi, and Sparrow crawled into top bunks to look out.

  Legba turned the trolley around, and we headed back the way we’d come, passing through the little village and The Meadows at the Lighthouse.

  I stared out the front window. The little box on the dash that had come to life when I’d reconfigured the solar was on and blinking. I rose and walked back to the small closet. Steadying myself, I opened the panel and looked inside. The small clockwork device was turning quickly and made an audible tick. It had a blueish glow inside.

  I closed the panel once more then took a seat near the front of the trolley again.

  “Legba, where did the device that converts the solar power come from?” I asked.

  He looked over his shoulder at me, a slow smile creeping across his face.

  “North,” he said then looked back.

  “Ah, once again, north,” I said, casting a glance at Bodi who passed me a wink.

  I stared out at the road. If people in the elusive north were making new technology, what other things had they invented?

  “There,” Enrique said, pointing. “High Street will lead us through Hell’s Passage.”

  Legba turned the trolley in the direction of the city. The massive skyscrapers stood like sentinels, monuments to a forgotten past. As we approached, we passed smaller buildings, defunct gas stations, and other shops.

  Legba slowed as he guided the trolley around some rusted-out cars and other debris. Long ago, someone had made an effort to clear the path through the city. It was passable, but not without some care. We drove deeper into the city. The skyscrapers loomed overhead. I tried to imagine the world as it has been. I tried to imagine the streets jammed with cars, the sidewalks full of people. The noise and the energy. But the image didn’t sit right. It felt busy and chaotic. It felt stressed. Maybe I hadn’t missed everything. Maybe I’d just missed a different kind of hell.

  “Legba,” Nara called. “Maybe stop here? I see a leather shop on the corner, that place has jars—I’m not sure of what though. There’s some kind of tech store, a smoke shop, and—oh my god—is that a bridal shop?”

  “Oh, Legba. Please stop,” Lyra practically shrieked.

  Legba stopped the trolley then looked from Enrique to me. “When we travel, we scavenge. Can you spare us a few minutes?”

  I looked from Lebga back to see the two sisters peering down at me from the bunks, pleading looks in their eyes. I had a feeling I would cause a rebellion or break their hearts if I said no—not that I was planning to anyway. In truth, I was just as curious as they were.

  “That’s fine with me. I’ll scout around a little too.”

  Enrique nodded.

  The girls shrieked happily.

  “Someone will go with you,” Legba told me then motioned to Bodi, who nodded. Legba rose and turned to the others. “Mind what space we have on the trolley. And mind the rules. No one goes alone. No one goes into the dark. You see, hear, or smell them, we leave. Watch the buildings. Make sure the floor is safe.”

  I rose and looked back at the sisters who were grinning excitedly. Nara had put her hands on Lyra’s shoulders and was shaking her happily.

  We filed off the trolley, everyone still armed.

  Enrique, who went with Sparrow, headed down the opposite side of the street to check out the shop fronts.

  Lyra and Nara ran toward the bridal shop.

  Manderly, Lebga, and Tiny headed in the direction of the smoke shop.

  “Let’s look there,” Bodi said, motioning toward the leather shop on the corner.

  Between the tall buildings, I could still see the asphalt, but the road was cracked. Brush and vines grew from th
e crevices. I was surprised to see some straggly trees growing in shaded spaces. As I walked, I looked for any sign that things had been recently disturbed by humans. But there was nothing save a lingering feral scent.

  “Do you smell that?” I asked Bodi.

  He nodded. “Wailers. There are probably a lot of them here, in the buildings or below ground,” he said, looking around, his eyes assessing.

  A lump rose in my throat, but I tried to shake off the feeling. It was daytime. They would not come out.

  Bodi and I approached the shop on the corner. Inside, mannequin parts lay on the ground. The windows were dirty, but you could still see the metal racks of clothing inside. Bodi tugged on the door. It groaned a little, the frame had rusted in place, then finally came open. I eyed the building overhead. It was seven stories tall. Some of the upper windows were broken out, but the building looked solid.

  We entered slowly.

  Bodi scanned the room. “Sometimes the floors go bad. The basement is the gateway to hell. But this place looks solid.” He pointed toward the back of the room where a metal door led to storage. “That’s what you want to avoid. Anything out of the light, any place close to the dark is dangerous. Some wailers are willing to risk a little pain if they can grab you and get back into the dark again.”

  “You…you ever see that happen?”

  “More often than I needed to drive home the message. Stay in the light, you live. Go in the dark, you die.”

  I swallowed hard then nodded.

  “Now, on that happier note, what can I buy you, m’lady?” he said, motioning wide.

  Smiling, I scanned the room. The place had been looted, but there were still a few items of clothing lying under the fallen racks. Bodi went to one stand and moved it aside carefully. I noticed he and the others were all endeavoring to not make noise. I imagined it would take everything the sisters had not to squeal in excitement once they got into the gown shop. I only hoped, for their sake, that the fabrics had not decayed.

  Bodi picked up a jacket. It may have once been black but had faded to navy blue. It had tan trim. He tried it on then shook his head, chuckling. “What do you think?” he asked.

  The coat sleeves ended about mid-arm, the waist above his belly button. His shirt had lifted in the process of trying on the coat, revealing a toned stomach and line of dark hair running from that cute little bellybutton below his belt.

  “Not quite,” I said, then looked away, afraid he would see the flash of red that had come to my cheeks. The lusty thoughts flittering through my mind embarrassed me.

  “You try it. It should fit you,” he said then crossed the room and held out the coat so I could slip it on.

  Hoping the red on my cheeks had faded, I set down my satchel then slipped the jacket on. It fit well. I couldn’t help but smile. Not only was it the first piece of new clothing I ever had, but it was also the first piece of new clothing I had ever seen, complete with a yellowed price tag.

  “Perfect fit,” I said.

  Bodi smiled. “It’s all yours.”

  I pulled the jacket back off and stuffed it into my satchel.

  “Ah ha!” Bodi said, pushing a mannequin aside to uncover a hat not unlike the one he already wore. This hat was made with faded brown leather with a braided band. Grinning, he slipped it on, exchanging it with his old hat.

  I crossed the room to a rack on the side wall where shirts sat in neat stacks. As I reached out to touch them, I realized my hand was shaking. I had worn rags, patched clothes, and hand-me-downs my whole life. I had never had anything new, never had anything that hadn’t belonged to someone else. The shirts on the top had faded, were moth-eaten, and were covered in dust. I moved them aside. Underneath, I found a red T-shirt had bled onto the white shirts underneath. Otherwise, however, the garments were in good shape. I realized at that moment that the color didn’t matter. I should take all of them. The people at The Park needed them. A day’s drive away—a drive we could not do because we had no vehicle—offered comforts most of us had never known.

  “Here,” Bodi called.

  I turned to see he had opened a box in which he’d found a number of leather bags. He tossed one to me then grabbed another. I picked up several of the shirts that were still in good condition and slipped them into my bag, including one that looked like it was the right size for Enrique. We might not get along well, but he was still a member of my community. Some shirts had the store’s logo on the chest, others had funny sayings. I set back the one that read: “Girls in Leather do it Better.” No thanks. I pulled out another faded black T-shirt that had the typical skull and crossbones, but rather than bones under the skull, it had a pair of wrenches. I smiled at the image then slipped it into the bag. Near the side window, I saw another mannequin on the ground. Under it, I spotted a small box. Shifting the dummy out of the way, I pulled out the box to find a pair of fingerless gloves. I pulled them from the box and slipped them into my bag. Ash would love them.

  As I rose, I noticed a piece of paper flutter down the street outside. And then another. As I looked, I realized they weren’t actually papers. They looked more like napkins. Another paper fluttered past, landing on the sidewalk just outside. I stared at the design on it. It took a minute for it to sink in that the face thereon was a clown—a Bozo’s clown.

  I looked out the window. There were more napkins blowing down the street.

  “I’m all set,” Bodi said. “Good haul. Another coat. This one should fit Manderly. A vest that might be big enough for Tiny. Even a belt. Some of these others rotted out. Too bad. Keyes?”

  I pointed to the window, watching the napkins blow.

  Bodi watched for a moment then nodded.

  Moving quietly, we exited the building and headed toward the side street. The entire street was littered with Bozo’s napkins, none of which were wet, decayed, or anything other than wind-tossed and little dirty. I bent down and picked one up, staring at the familiar face of the clown. How many times had I looked at that stupid menu, dreaming of chipotle chicken patties with pickles, double-bacon blue cheeseburgers, and five-alarm suicide wings? So many times that I could recite the menu in my sleep.

  Bodi and I walked down the street, following the napkins to their source.

  There, just off High Street, was a Bozo’s restaurant. The napkins were blowing out of the restaurant through the broken windows and glass door. Aquamarine-colored glass lying all over the ground sparkled in the sunlight.

  “Would the wailers do that?” I asked. “Break the glass? Do they do things like that out here where they roam?”

  Bodi shook his head. “No, they seem to leave the world as it is. Unless there’s something to hunt. The glass…it could have been broken a long time ago. Maybe the box just tipped or ripped open.”

  I shook my head. “The cut glass is fresh. No grime on it.”

  Bodi raised an eyebrow at me then nodded.

  We headed toward the building. I tried not to feel alarmed when Bodi pulled out a gun as we drew closer.

  My hands shook. A Bozo’s. Of all the places in the world, how did I manage to find a Bozo’s? Well, it made sense, in a way. Bozo’s owned more real estate than any other franchise in the world and had over thirty thousand restaurants in over one hundred countries. Of course, there would be one in Hell’s Passage. There were probably dozens of them. But still. I thought back to my conversation with Ash, the joke I made asking her to bring me back a Bozo’s burger.

  I swallowed hard as we entered the building. The place had that same strange, feral smell. And it looked like it had been torn apart very recently. Only the barstool seats, which were shaped like the head of their clown mascot, stayed upright. Otherwise, tables, lights, anything not bolted down had been overturned. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.

  Bodi and I stepped toward the back of the restaurant. The place was dim, but sunlight still streamed in from the front.

  Gasping, I stopped.

  In front of me, I saw the
door to the walk-in refrigerator. It had been dented and slashed; long claw marks were scraped across the door.

  “Looks like they were trying to get inside,” Bodi said, following my gaze. “Must be something in there.”

  “Ash,” I whispered, my hands shaking.

  Bodi lifted his weapon, keeping his gun trained on the door.

  Moving carefully, I stepped closer then knocked on the door. “Ash? Nasir?”

  We waited.

  There was no sound. No wailers. No Ash. No anything.

  “Lordes? Faraday? Anyone in there?”

  Nothing.

  I looked to Bodi. He gestured to the door handle.

  Nodding, I grabbed the latch.

  Bodi readied himself then signaled to me.

  I pulled open the door.

  Sunlight flooded into the space.

  There was nothing there. No one.

  I stepped inside and glanced around. There was nothing there.

  I exited once more, closing the door behind me.

  I looked all around then turned and headed back out to the front of the restaurant. Kneeling, I studied the glass pieces. They were freshly broken, but aside from that, they were scattered, and I couldn’t make out any footprints. Shaking my head, I rose.

  “Any sign?” Bodi asked.

  I shook my head. “No, but my sister was here.”

  “How do you know?”

  I glanced back at the dents and scratches on the door to the fridge. “I just know.”

  “Well, the wailers were certainly after something. Whatever it was, they didn’t get it. No blood,” he said, motioning around.

  I swallowed hard. No blood. My sister didn’t die here. That, at least, was something. “If she made it this far, she made it to Low Tide.”

  Bodi slipped his gun into the back of his pants. “Then we’ll see her soon.”

  I glanced up at the menu board above the counter. The plastic had faded so terribly that the names or images couldn’t be made out anymore. But I knew what had been there. By number, I could have ordered anything off that menu.

  “Let’s go tell the others,” Bodi said, gently touching my arm.