by Faulks, Kim
Those were the rules I lived by.
I kept the water safe. That meant no bargaining, no trading—no telling anyone. I checked the barriers, and inspected the welds. I locked the gates and grills and greased the hinges to the hatch.
I looked for a way out…because every way out is also a way in.
My home is my tomb. My tomb will keep me safe.
But I wasn’t home, was I? I was out here in the wild, where the crows no longer come…but where there were animals just the same.
Come, that voice in my dream commanded.
I felt the Call like an ache. Tainted clouds overhead turned ashen at the edges, but there was an anger now, a rolling with purpose—a hunger that echoed inside me.
A storm was coming. Don’t ask me how I knew—but I knew it just the same. It was the same storm that brewed inside me…the same one that spoke to me now.
I licked my lips and took a step. “We have to hurry.”
I stepped off the first stair and made for the shadows. Footsteps scuffed the asphalt behind me. She followed, slower than I wanted, as I hit the corner of the building and waited.
“Over there,” I lifted my hand and pointed to the open door of an old diner. “Make it to the open door and we wait.”
Movement came from a window on the third floor to my left. My heartbeat jacked, thundering like a train off the tracks. I clenched my fist around the grip of the gun and shoved forward.
You don’t want me, I sent the thought out wide. I have nothing you need…no water, no food, nothing but another mouth to feed.
I pulled the weapon from my waist and crossed the street with long, purposeful strides.
Another mouth to feed, with a gun, who looks like trouble.
Yellow clouds parted, and the sun’s cruel glare peeked through, bouncing off the steel in my hand. I left the echo of my boots behind, my focus on that busted door.
Most of the shops were destroyed now. Shattered glass, and hanging signs littered the city streets. Three years was a long time when you were hungry. But it was even longer when you were alone.
“Thank you,” the woman behind me muttered. “Thank you for helping my baby.”
I swallowed hard and hit the concrete with heavy steps as the hairs on my arms rose. The longer I stood out here, vulnerable, the more it felt like a bad idea.
Faded quarantine barriers still covered most of the streets. The yellow signs were filthy and torn. Shredded plastic flapped in a panic. They thought they could hide this…that they could stop what was happening.
No one could stop it.
Not the weather and not the plague.
Shards of glass crunched under my boots. I caught her reflection in the busted glass as I scanned the windows.
I turned to stare at the woman. She was younger than I expected, barely older than I was now. The dark bundle so tiny in her arms. Hope, that word welled like a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach. That’s what a child is, hope…a future—a new cycle in this loveless world.
But there was no new cycle, there was only what we had…there was only survival.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. “All the way to the end of the block.”
The faint sound of a scream caught the wind.
A woman, fighting, hurting…
I knew those screams. I heard them when I came to this part of the city. They were the screams of torture, of pain. The Mighty didn’t just take, they hurt—they used.
A frigid touch raced along my spine as the screams ended.
Silence, cruel silence.
No one told me what the end sounded like, even if they did, I’d never believe them.
It didn’t sound like a woman’s screams—it didn’t sound like screams at all.
The end was silence. A silence so cruel you wondered who was alive, and who was gone.
Was I the one who was dead? Was I the one not breathing, not living…not checking the doors and the welds, not watching the sky for the rains and the storms? Was I the one desperate to sleep with the darkness, and not hear the whisper of my name?
Harlow…you coming?
Sarah’s voice filled my head. And, for a second, I was back there in that filthy bathroom stall, staring at the red emergency light while I longed for peace.
That light…God, that light. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. I could feel the luminescence inside me, filling me until I hummed with the power.
I needed to be somewhere. The urgency consumed me. I needed to be somewhere. Only I didn’t know where that somewhere was. Not yet.
I opened my eyes to the empty city streets. But I was still trapped there in that vision, staring at four hazy outlines as they moved closer. The horsemen. That’s what God had called them.
Dark clouds gathered above them. They were the storm. They were destruction. My heart sped, harsh breaths stole the moisture from my lips. They moved with purpose, surging forward—heading straight for me.
The glint of green flashed from one of the shadows, like the glint of steel…but it wasn’t steel. It was a ring on his finger…the green of colored pencils, of money burning in the fire while I huddled close to get warm…the green of greed, of hunger…of sickness and hate.
Come, that voice echoed inside me.
A shudder raced, tearing through my chest like a sob. I felt the command all the way to the marrow of my bones.
We’ve been waiting for you.
My knees shook, my heart raced, but it was that light I turned to—that brilliance of God. He’d guide me. He’d tell me where I needed to be. “We have to move,” I whispered. “Now.”
I never waited, never even watched for her behind me. Every step brought me closer to that humming in my veins.
I scanned the edges of every shop through the sight of the Glock. My palms turned slick. Sweat ran down the nape of my neck. Still I focused on the tufts of green through the fractured pavement and moved ahead.
Whip grass sprouted everywhere. The kind that sliced your palm as you yanked, and the kind that burned. I pushed harder, surging toward the fissures in the asphalt and caught a shift of movement in the distance.
The woman’s scream came again. I whipped my head left as the sound carried, bouncing off the empty buildings. It was a scream of rage, a fighter’s scream—the kind that haunted my dreams. My knees shook, my grip slipped against the patterned steel. I adjusted my grip and kept my back to the shattered windows.
My breath drowned out her cries. Shadows reached for me from a side alley just short of the corner. I lowered the muzzle, scanning the mountain of rubbish against the building and glanced at the crossing.
Three more blocks.
The Calling hummed, urging me forward.
I took a step, leaving the alley behind. That thin howl of desperation grew talons and ripped the air and, on the heels of the savage sound, came a woman.
The slaps of bare feet echoed. She ran, fists pumping, while the torn remnants of her shirt streamed behind. In the distance, the trucks roared to life.
She was running from The Mighty, desperate to be free—but once you’re owned by them, there was no escape. The only freedom was in death.
I stilled, turned my head, heart hammering, breath sawing from my lips.
Her head was down, eyes focused on the grass-splattered sidewalk ahead.
Slap…slap…slap…
She didn’t see me. Didn’t see anything. Her breasts bounced, one peeking over the torn cup of a filthy bra. She lifted her head, tear streaks caught the glare of the sun. Dark eyes met mine, and widened as her pace slowed. She licked her lips, her words nothing more than a whimper. “Help me.”
Don’t stop…please, don’t stop.
Whoops and howls followed the gunning of engines. Men turned to beasts, hunting not for food, but for a different reason. They hunted for sport, and they were coming…coming for her.
Her belly bowed, chest heaved. Panic filled her eyes. There was a hint of the fighter—the one who still lived inside,
the one who screamed at her to run.
I took a step backwards.
The tiny shake of my head said more than words ever could.
Tires squealed, the sound flooding the city streets.
Her mouth parted, lips blackened and blue. She was owned now, owned by the lowest kind—The Mighty.
My heels kicked the pavement as I stepped. The howl of rubber gave way to the gunning off engines. Low roars, blended with the sharp twang of motorbikes.
The muffled thunder created a symphony of terror.
Panic built, the thunder grew louder with every boom of my heart. My hand trembled. I pressed the gun to my side.
Three full magazines and a butterfly knife in my pocket. I’d never survive. Not against them. Not when The Mighty had numbers on their side. Fear was a fist down my throat. They’d kill me…or worse. They’d use me, and keep me as a plaything—just like they did with her.
Tires howled, the sound of the trucks flooded the streets. They were almost here now, one turn of the wheel away from the both of us. Please…
She took a step, resignation roared to life in her eyes. “Remember me,” she urged, and then lunged.
3
“Into the alley,” I scurried backwards, slamming into the woman and her baby behind me. “Now!”
All I could hear was the slaps of her feet on the road. The sound mirrored the boom of my heart. I turned and glanced over my shoulder as I hit the shadows, catching sight of the running woman.
Clumps of filthy hair streamed behind her as she turned left…leading The Mighty away from us. She could’ve stayed, could’ve begged for help. She could’ve led The Mighty right here…and then where would we be?
Dead…the word was a stone in my stomach—or taken. We could’ve been taken.
My throat tightened, clenching like a fist. I hit the brick wall and slunk into the shadows. Whispers crowded in, and the urgency consumed me.
“Who was she? What happened?”
The woman beside me wanted to know…but there were no words. Not for the images in my head, and not for the echo of her screams.
The Mighty screamed past the corner. The thunder of their trucks filled the air, carving through me, like fangs that sank through flesh and blood to the marrow of my bones.
Until the blast of a shotgun ripped through the air. I flinched, heart hammering, a scream locked in the middle of my chest.
My left knee buckled. I fell, pushed and stumbled, careening all the way to the end of the alley and hit the ground amongst the piles of garbage.
“What’s happening? Please tell me…my baby. You’re scaring my baby.”
Please don’t search the streets. Please don’t come here…Rusted tin cans blurred under my tears, faded plastic wrappers slapped the rusted red brick wall with the wind, drawing my gaze higher. Sawing breaths stole the moisture in my mouth. A faded white banner hung forlornly against the brick wall, but the words were still clear…
They’re coming for us all!
I blinked and tried to swallow. My heart pounded like someone was at the door, someone desperate to get in. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. A reckoning—just like Dad said. That’s what this was…an answer to all the things we’d done.
They were coming. If it wasn’t The Mighty, then it was someone else. Some other band of murderers would take their place. It didn’t matter who it was, different face, same greed.
Dad used to tell me there was safety in numbers. But not anymore.
There was no safety here, and hadn’t been for a long time.
The woman beside me clutched the still bundle to her chest. “You’re scaring him,” she murmured and slid to the ground beside me. “You’re scaring my baby. Shhh…” she murmured and curled her spine, and rocked. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. Safe from the bad men. Safe from her.”
The woman’s movement blurred through my tears. She sounded unhinged, unstable. The truth was a cold reality. She was never going to find peace. There was no life here, no salvation…there was nothing more than…almost.
That word filled me with dark thoughts.
Almost…if only…try to…they were the saddest words I knew. I clutched the gun and leaned my head back against the brick.
If only I could’ve stopped Dad from going out that day.
If only I could’ve somehow saved him.
A low snarl stole the thought. I opened my eyes as a pale beast slunk out of a cracked doorway at the end of the alley. He limped more than lunged, hard muscles of his shoulders rolling as he moved.
Blood seeped from a gash on his shoulder. Tinged with red, the dried mess stained the cocoa hair almost black. All I could see were perfect white teeth as his lips curled in warning—and fear. It echoed in perfect brown eyes.
The woman whimpered beside me, which drew his gaze. I gripped the gun and dragged it closer. “Easy now,” I murmured.
The hound limped closer, dark eyes no longer trained on the woman at my side. Steel shone from the collar around its neck. It was someone’s pet, someone’s friend. I glanced at the hard lines of its ribs. But now it looked like it had to fend for itself.
Like the rest of us. I lifted my hand. The steel from the gun shone. The beast lunged forward. White teeth were stained red from swollen gums. “It’s okay, I whispered,” and eased the gun against my leg. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
My nails skimmed the denim, and then the faded black leather. Fingers delved, spearing deep. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Words spilled. I didn’t know if they were for me, or for him. “I bet you’re starving.”
I dragged a small tin free and stared at the faded label. I can’t believe it’s not chicken! The date didn’t matter…they never mattered. I grasped the ring pull and eased it open. “It’s not chicken. But right now, I bet you don’t even care.”
I scooped the stuff from the middle. Pale strands of meat hung from my fingers as I reached out. “It’s good, it’s still fine. Eat, come on now, eat.”
The growl softened, glassy eyes drifted to the ends of my fingers. Blood seeped fresh as he limped. The closer he came, the more I saw how badly he suffered. His ear was in tatters, ripped almost in two. Scars marred the back of his body. I searched my memory for the name…thick jaw, short legs, and a wide barrel chest. “Pit.” He stretched his neck, sniffed the tips of my fingers. “Pit Hound…not a hound, Pit something…”
Pink peeked out with a timid lick, catching the tips of my fingers before it was gone again. “Pitt,” I murmured. “Come on, there’s more.”
I dug into the tin and scooped out more. He shuffled closer, careful eyes watching me, and the food. Trust. He was trusting me. Hungry tongue lashed my skin, taking the stringy clumps in one bite.
I scooped out more, finding the bits in the corners until the tin was empty. He was close now, close enough…I stretched out my fingers. He gave a sniff and a growl. Just a warning. But trust raged in his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I brushed my fingers along his snout. “Friend, see…”
He moved closer as my hand rose, lifting his head to graze my palm. How long had he been out here alone? I stared at the tattered collar. Too long. Pain flared in my chest. I knew what loneliness felt like. “You can stay with me?”
I probed the hard ridge of his skull, and then between his ears. But it was his shoulder I focused on. The incision was too neat to be a bite, or a bullet wound. It was more like the remnant of a knife. “Someone cut you, buddy?”
“It’s a girl.”
I wrenched my head left. “What did you say?”
“Your boy is a female. Look, no willy,” she raised her finger and stabbed the air.
I leaned over, a smooth belly all the way between his…her legs. “You’re a girl. A girl…a sister?”
You coming, Harlow?
That purpose raged, flowing like a river untapped. I opened my hand, palm up and inhaled. The light filled me, pushing away the darkness, leaving me swimming in the warmth. I could almost
float…almost…A cold nose pressed against my fingers, the growl softened to a whine. There was a twitch in the corner of my mouth. Lips curled as Pitt moved closer. I ran my hand along her body, feeling the jutting bones and the sunken skin. “You stay with me, okay? We’ll take care of each other.”
The woman beside me turned away and pushed against the wall. We couldn’t stay here, not while The Mighty were out hunting. They’d be riled now, high on the hunt and looking for others.
Trust.
It was a cruel thing to have. I stared at Pitt as the thought grew. I had to trust the woman who ran from The Mighty didn’t tell them about us—I had to trust she somehow valued our life above her own.
Trust that when the truth finally spilled from her lips in a moment of terror or pain we’d be long gone from here.
I gripped the gun, and shoved against the rubbish. We had to be careful, and fast. Three blocks. I glanced at the woman behind me as I rose. How far could she run with a dead baby in her arms? I glanced at Pitt and the gash in her side.
“Okay, we move as fast as we can, don’t stop at the corners, try to make the open doors and the alleys.”
I took a step and watched for movement. Pitt stood still, watching, waiting. One small click of my fingers and she was hobbling to walk beside me. I listened for the echo of trucks and made for the entrance.
Quiet…this place was so damn quiet. I could feel the rush of air in my ears, hear the thud of my heart. A tremor raced, shuddering through my belly and my chest. I took a step, and then another finding my way to the corner once more.
The echoes of The Mighty were gone. There were no hoots and hollers, no growling of engines, or boom of a gun, nothing but soft panting breaths of the dog beside me, and a brush of her shoulder—a tiny touch of affection.
I leaned over, brushing my fingers across her head to scratch between her ears. We could make it. Just like that, we could make it.
I took a step, leading the way, and crossed the road. Battered shop fronts blurred, all I cared about was the shadows inside the shops, and the movement high in the buildings. Others would be watching. I could feel their gaze on the back of my neck as I pushed forward.