by Lizzy Ford
The two were studying me uncertainly, as if not yet convinced they were still alive. After a moment, I took pity on them and tugged protein bars and a canteen of water from my rucksack. I tossed them to the girl, whose limbs all appeared to be in working order.
“You need to go now,” I said. “There’s nothing for you here. Understand?”
The two exchanged a look and then nodded. I stepped out of their way, and they began walking, dazed and fatigued.
“Stay on the path,” I called after them.
The boy glanced over his shoulder at me.
I remained where I was, confirming they found the path south, before I began walking again. Debating whether or not to tell Father Cristopolos about the trespassers, I decided not to after our strange exchange earlier. I wasn’t an indiscriminate killer. Well, not any more. When I was under Cleon’s control, I had been brainwashed to follow his commands alone. Most of those memories were dream-like blurs that didn’t seem real, even though I knew they had to be.
Shaking off my past, I continued my inspection of the perimeter.
I walked for an hour before running into anyone else.
Three men and two women, as dazed as the siblings, surrounded a sixth person lying unconscious on the ground. His burnt body appeared beyond salvaging to my untrained eyes, and the other members of his party were in rough shape with burns and bruising.
I glanced around. They were splitting the distance between the eastern and western paths created by animals moving south. I didn’t trust anyone to wander these woods alone, not with the secret orphanage at the center.
A soft gasp from behind me startled me, and I whirled.
Alessandra stood in the forest, wearing her backpack and an expression of concern.
“Lyssa!” I hissed, cursing the priests under my breath for not being able to keep up with the wild girl before me.
“What happened to them?” she asked and pointed.
“Go home. Now!” I replied.
“Hello?” one of the wounded women called. She wandered through the brush separating us from them. “Is someone else there?”
I released a sigh. “Don’t move,” I told Alessandra. I strode forward to intercept the trespasser.
“There’s a safe zone to the south,” I said, emerging from the forest. “I can show you the path to take.”
She looked up at me, dazed. Two of the others turned to face me.
None of them spoke. They had the lifeless gazes of living mannequins.
“Follow me, okay?” I prodded, pitying them, and started towards the western trail, away from where I’d left Alessandra.
“Can’t leave him,” one of the women whispered and motioned to the unconscious man. Two others bent to heft the downed man and made it four steps when I realized how long it would take us to walk a kilometer, if they moved this slowly. Anxious to continue checking the rest of the perimeter, and guiding survivors away from Alessandra, I moved forward and picked up the man effortlessly then began walking.
“Do you want me to help?” Lyssa asked, melting from the forest with stealth I’d taught her.
It was a very rare day when I was angry with her. One look at her compassionate expression, though, and I recalled she had no idea why she was being raised in secrecy or why refugees were streaming through our forest. Reacting the way I wanted to would only draw attention to the wrong things, to Alessandra, and invite questions from her I wasn’t ready to answer. If I sent her home alone, she was likely to run into more refugees or animals. The wildlife, I trusted her to handle. But people …
She was safer with me. These strangers couldn’t possibly know who or what she was.
One of the trespassers dropped to her knees.
In the split second that followed, I made up my mind. “Do you have your emergency medical kit?” I asked Alessandra.
She nodded and darted forward, tugging off her backpack. I placed the man in my arms on the ground. Kneeling beside Alessandra, I ran her through our medical emergency checklist, this time with a living patient, and watched as she bandaged the wounded woman’s arm and neck before offering her water and painkillers. While Lyssa may not have done well in school, she followed the procedures I taught her without hesitation, even stitching a gaping wound in the woman’s shoulder on her own.
Proud, yet concerned about her interaction with the strangers, I didn’t praise her as I normally would. Instead, when she had finished, I stood.
“We need to leave,” I said as much to her as the others. “There’s a campground to the south and a few towns nearby. You will find better medical care there.”
Alessandra obediently replaced her emergency medical kit and stood, pulling her backpack on. I picked up the unconscious man, certain he would be dead before they reached a hospital, and started to the west again.
“Stay by my side, Alessandra,” I said with a glance over my shoulder. She was looking with unabashed curiosity at the people, and I knew questions were soon to follow. “There was a fire to the north.”
She appeared to accept the explanation and moved to my side, navigating the forest with ease.
The refugees limped and supported one another as they followed. I kept my senses alert for wildlife and other survivors while trying to calculate how many people I was going to find this day. It didn’t seem possible that anyone had survived and yet, I’d met eight people already. I would need to return Alessandra to the orphanage, and give the priests stricter instructions on how to safeguard my wily Lyssa, before I tracked down any more survivors.
We reached the western path, and I helped the two ablest bodied among the refugees to support the unconscious man. Stepping aside, I couldn’t help the flicker of anxiousness that floated through me when I realized how close this path would take them to the manor house. Not one of them seemed too aware of anything at the moment. With any luck, they’d pass through the forest quietly and miss the orphanage. If what Father Cristopolos said was true about a safe zone, then there were several towns and cities between here and Washington DC where refugees could find food and shelter.
“Is that why the animals are all running through our forest?” Alessandra asked me.
“What?”
“The fire.”
“Yes,” I replied. “It’s engulfed the entire forest outside our home.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s a good thing we helped those people.”
“Yeah.” I switched directions towards the orphanage. My muscles were aching and my mind tired. I wanted to take a break and quick nap, but if I weren’t here to reroute the refugees, who else could do it?
“I should’ve sent the other ones to the campground, too,” she added.
I stopped. “What other ones?”
“I found three others and told them where the orphanage was,” she replied cheerfully.
“When was this?” I faced her, struggling not to display my dismay.
“Ten minutes before I found you.” Alessandra gazed up at me with a smile. “Aren’t you glad you taught me to navigate the forest? They would’ve been lost otherwise.”
At the moment, I was wishing I’d taken the priests’ warning about her being too wild more seriously.
“Some of these people could be looters or worse,” I told her firmly. “You’re going back to the orphanage and staying there.”
She made a face. “Can’t I help you round them up?”
“No.”
Disappointed, Alessandra sighed and began walking towards the orphanage.
I dreaded what I’d find when we arrived. After the conversation with Father Cristopolos earlier, I was unsettled. I didn’t know what he would do when strangers showed up on his doorstep. We were on new territory.
As we walked, my slow mind began to unravel what exactly left me uncomfortable.
I never wanted to be under someone else’s control as I had been under Cleon’s. But it was more than this bothering me.
Just as I didn’t want Alessandra to g
row up, I wasn’t ready to give up the peace I’d experienced for the first time in my life over the past seven years. Part of me knew it was inevitable, or a man like me wouldn’t have been chosen to protect her. But I had hoped to wait until she was old enough to understand her importance and place in the world before our lives changed.
“You have blood on your hands.” Lyssa’s voice broke into my unpleasant thoughts. She had stopped a short distance away and was reaching into her pack for a rag.
At one point, my hands had been accustomed to being bloody. They were rarely clean. I didn’t object as she wiped my hands free of the stranger’s blood before carefully folding the rag so it wouldn’t make a mess out of the contents of her backpack. She tucked it away, turned, and began walking again, this time humming.
No, I wasn’t ready for any of this to change. The world, my peace, her bloom into womanhood.
We reached the greens around the orphanage. My sharp eyes scoured the lawns and house for any sign of the strangers Alessandra had sent this way without spotting anyone.
When we neared the door, it was flung open by Father Renoir, the youngest and the girls’ favorite, who resembled a bug with his thick glasses. He was frowning and planted his hands on his hips.
“Alessandra,” he chided gently.
She rolled her eyes and breezed by him. “I know.”
“Kitchens! You’ve earned another week cleaning up after the cook!”
Alessandra groaned. She tugged off her backpack and tossed it on a chair in the hallway before heading towards the kitchens.
“I told you. You need to keep a better eye on her,” I said to him, folding my arms across my chest.
“I’ll admit she’s smarter than she leads us to believe,” Father Renoir said. “But I plan on watching her personally and keeping her too busy to leave the house again.”
I nodded in approval, not fully convinced any of them could keep track of her unless they were tied to her. I had trained her how to move with discipline and agility. If they turned their backs, she was gone.
I started to say as much, when Father Cristopolos spoke behind me. “I know you’re tired, Herakles, but there is something else I must ask of you.”
Hearing the hushed note in his tone, I turned to face him. The priest’s robes were muddied around their hem, and he slid a hand flecked with blood deeper into the sleeves of the robe as I looked at him.
“You’re well?” I asked.
“I am. Renny, tend to your flock. Herakles, accompany me, please.”
Father Renoir nodded and closed the door. Father Cristopolos walked around the manor house, towards the cottages where we all lived, and then beyond to the maintenance sheds. The lock on my supply depot was broken, and the door open.
Unease stirred within me again. Father Cristopolos was thus far not acting the way I had grown used to him acting. I lingered in the doorway of the shed while he dug around in one of the many boxes.
When he turned, he held a gun.
“Careful,” I said and grasped it.
“Before I came here, I was in the militant priesthood of Ares, Herakles. I know how to handle weapons,” he replied calmly.
Uncertain what to say, I watched him load guns expertly. He handed me two. “Bears?” I asked.
The moment he met my gaze, I knew the truth.
“Three strangers at least saw Lyssa,” he said. “And everyone who passes through our forest sees the boundary of light. Did you not stop to think that those in SISA and the government looking for her wouldn’t be able to identify the work of gods when they saw evidence of it in reports from refugees? And when they did, wouldn’t they wonder what’s here?”
“I didn’t think of that,” I replied quietly. My concern had been the orphanage and the hidden knowledge of what Alessandra was, not about what the refugees would tell others about the magical wall of light.
“She is safe and protected only as long as no one knows she’s here. We could cover up what she is, if someone knocked on our front door, be we can’t pretend the boundaries didn’t somehow spare us the gods’ wrath. Anyone who witnesses our magic will speculate why this patch of forest is protected by magic.” He held up the red rope tied around his waist in emphasis.
“And this is your solution?” I asked, hefting one of the weapons. “I murder every refugee who walks through the barrier?”
“Your history leads me to believe you have the ability.”
“But not the desire! Why not send them south?”
“And what? Pray for protection from loose lips?” he countered. “The gods may have forsaken us. Even Artemis has abandoned us for the time being. Either we handle this, or we risk someone reporting what they saw. Do you want that?”
“I’m not what I was,” I growled. “I do not kill indiscriminately.”
“Then I will.” Father Cristopolos met my gaze. “I will always err on the side of caution when it comes to the girl whose life will determine the fate of humanity.” He snatched a bag of ammo and draped it over his shoulder. “No one will find her, or destroy her, because we failed in our duty to protect her. I made this promise the day we found you. If a river of blood must flow to keep her safe, I am prepared.”
“There has to be another way!”
“You are her protector for a reason, Herakles. You were chosen by the gods. Have you forgotten your duty?” he countered. “Have you forgotten the world that exists beyond our forest? And what it will do to her, if you fail to protect her? You did unspeakable things in your past, but you are what you are for a reason, and that reason is her.”
He left.
I remained in the shed. The weight of the weapons in my hands was nowhere near as heavy as the dread settling at the base of my stomach. Father Cristopolos had never confronted me about my past. At times, I convinced myself no one else knew what I’d really done. Did I also convince myself to forget or deny the hazy memories of violence and blood? Or the world where a man like me was able to do such things without penalty?
And when Lyssa found out what I did to her parents? Or that they were two among the hundreds I murdered? There was no denying my actions. Would I look back at this moment and point out how I had stopped being that person after I killed her mother and father in cold blood? Was that really going to make a difference to her?
Did I not one day have to atone for everything, even if I hadn’t been in the right mind at the time? The people I had wounded could not be un-hurt, and the lives I’d taken could not be returned.
I had carved up my face, so that every day, when I confronted myself in the mirror, I was reminded of what I really was. And yet, every time Alessandra looked at me, I forgot that ugly part of me and dared to hope we could stay here forever, my little girl and me.
The happy vision in my mind faded, as additional truth began to penetrate the fantasy I’d created after seven years of peace.
A monster like me was never meant to have a real family or to live a happy life. Did I really believe I could be the father of the girl whose parents I murdered? This delusion was destined to end, if not when she discovered what I had done, then in a situation like this one.
What I felt, what I wanted in this life, would never matter. I was damned when Cleon found me and transformed me from a boy into a monster. The only good to come of my existence: Alessandra, not because she was an Earth-bound goddess I was sworn to protect, but because she loved me, and I owed her everything for the only moments of peace I would ever experience in my life.
Somehow, I had gotten lost in the tranquil life here and forgotten my purpose. Alessandra was special, and I was sworn to protect her. She was not my daughter, and I would never be her father, no matter how much I wanted that to be true. I was her guardian, which meant, if Father Cristopolos believed her to be in danger, I was responsible for eliminating each and every threat.
The sense of urgency I experienced earlier returned. Alessandra was in danger from a nontraditional threat, and I had gotten too contented a
nd lazy to realize it.
I drew a deep breath and left the shed. Jogging after the shorter man, I caught up to him just as he reached the tree line.
“Go back,” I told him. “Keep everyone inside until I radio in. If you have to tie Alessandra to a chair, do it.”
Father Cristopolos studied me. “You will take care of this?”
“I will. All of it. I am only sorry I caused you to doubt me,” I replied stiffly.
“I never doubted you, Herakles. I know this is not easy for you.”
I took his weapons and the ammo bag. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. This is what I’m here to do.”
“We all make sacrifices. The priests, for the sake of humanity. You, for Alessandra,” he observed.
I was quiet, positioning the weapons and ammo around my body.
“She’ll still love you, Herakles. No matter what you do,” the priest’s voice was warm. “She’ll understand why, when she’s old enough.”
No part of me believed him, but I nodded once before striding away, into the forest. Spotting footprints, I knelt to gauge the direction the group of four was traveling. Today, instead of hunting for game, I was hunting humans.
No one could ever understand, I thought as I walked.
Less than a kilometer from the orphanage, I spotted fresh blood. Soon after, the refugees came into view. The four were headed south and moving slowly. One was being supported by two others, which made them easy targets. With any luck, the other refugees who passed through our forest were gathering in the campground, where I could pick them off, one by one, or in small groups, if I used the shrapnel grenades Father Cristopolos had placed in the satchel.
I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, mentally calculating distance and potential wind resistance.
“For Alessandra,” I whispered.
I dropped all four refugees with single shots to their heads and then lowered my weapon. With any luck, she would never find out everything I’d ever done. My actions were my burden alone to bear, my guilt the price of keeping her alive and hidden.
Alessandra was born to save lives, and I was created to destroy them. At least there was a purpose behind what I did. Redemption was lost on me, but perhaps, it took someone like me to protect the goddess destined to save the world.