Edge Walker

by Chris Hampton

  Ever is crying silently, staring at G's arrow in her hand. What's he to do now? G told him to make sure Ever followed his instructions, to leave at first light if he didn't show up. It's well past first light now, and the hunters must be out.

  "We have to go, Ever."

  Silence.

  There's no way he can force her to go. She's too strong, too quick, too deadly. Why did G think he, Bae, could get her to go against her will?

  "Ever?"

  "Leave," she says. "Leave me alone."

  After a few more seconds of silence, the boy stands. Where he's going, he doesn't know. He does know he's done being a burden.

  He checks his pack, tightens his sandals, and shoves away the memory of making them with Ever. There's no place for those memories now. He stands, shoulders his bag, and tightly grips his throwing stick. Vaguely, he knows his white-knuckle grip on the stick is to help him stay composed and strong in front of Ever.

  "I'm going," he says. "I'm sorry for all the trouble."

  He thinks of nothing else to say. It is only confusion now inside his head. His chest is still tight.

  "Goodbye, cousin." His last words to her.

  Ever does not speak, does not look at him, does not move.

  Bae turns and walks out the northeast exit of the alcove. The haze still covers the landscape, not burning off with the rising sun, and he feels the pressure in the air against his ears.

  In a daze, he continues up the game trail. With a look back at the alcove, he half hopes to see his cousin. But she's not coming with him, he knows. He's alone again.

  Bae looks beyond the alcove, back down toward the deadly valley where they lost Jure, Ever's G. The landscape beyond the alcove and back toward the town is dark. The darkness comes from the clouds, menacing cumulus clouds building in the sky west of where he stands. Thunderheads climb in the sky, a red tint filtering through their massive height. Weird. Thunderheads typically build up in the afternoon sky, not the morning. It looks how the boy imagines Hell might: red above, black below.

  A final glance at the alcove reveals nothing new. Bae turns, just as a low rumble to the west reverberates through the air. He misses Ghost, his steady four-legged companion. He follows the game trail up off the ledge and onto the top of the mesa, due southeast, alone.

  Chapter 60 - Attack

  Late morning, before the sun reaches its zenith in the sky, the bellies of the massive thunderheads rupture, releasing their waters onto the dry land below. The rain falls hard.

  Rivulets of water turn to rushing streams. Waterfalls appear across the outcrops of the mesa, liquid brown torrents that batter the burnt orange sandstone of the ledges and benches. Muddy water slides recklessly across the ground, then launches over the next lower edge of rock, and continues its mad dash to the desert floor.

  Walking becomes strenuous; the orange brown mud sticks to everything. When the storm hits, Bae is on top of the mesa. A mile in, battered by wind and rain, the boy reaches the wall of a higher bench along the mesa that blocks his route to the northeast.

  To avoid retracing his steps, he moves along the face of the rock wall. The storm pelts him mercilessly. It's hard to know for sure, but his guess is he is now traveling east. The boy realizes he needs to get out of this deluge before it sweeps him off the bench to his death.

  Bracing his eyes, he looks for cover, any place that will protect him from the onslaught of stinging water droplets. But every shallow cave or rock outcrop he finds has muddy water pouring into it from the higher ledges above.

  Finally, he spies a deeper cave. He just sees it behind a stand of ancient junipers. Roots spread in front of the opening, and no water comes off the ledge above it.

  The boy looks in. After his eyes adjust to the interior darkness, he measures to the back wall. Eight feet. The cave is scooped out like ice cream from its container, with smooth walls that curve at the back and on the sides.

  No animals here that he can see.

  He throws down his rain-soaked pack, sits, knees to chest, and looks out at the wet world. There's a view through the low branches of the junipers, their branches twisting like graceful snakes up through the air. For now, with the heavy rain, the view's obscured. He needs a fire, which means he needs dry wood. His water-logged clothes need the heat to dry, and he feels the chill from sitting for just these few moments build in his body.

  In the back of the cave is an abandoned packrat den. This packrat didn't use cactus spines to build its house. Instead, it used the many small sticks from the junipers out front. It's an old nest, and massive for a packrat den: about three-by-three, and two feet deep. There’s not much rat feces on the outside. The only droppings cascade from the den’s entrance at the back of the mound, against the rock wall. That's a relief. Most packrat dens he's seen were covered in excrement. These sticks he can burn. The front of the mound offers a good store, small but dry.

  Outside, the late afternoon is storm dark. The clouds even blot out the red hue of the sky. Rain still falls but is now a steady drizzle. Bae scratches out a small fire pit at the opening that is mostly out of the wind, thanks to the sentinel trees. The pit will add protection from gusts of wind that work their way through the branches.

  It's a small fire because the packrat sticks are small, yet Bae feels its warmth as he props his wet clothing on low branches above the flames. The clothing helps trap some of the rising heat.

  As he sits feeding the fire, Bae's mind begins to wander and question. Where is G? Is Ever still sitting in the alcove waiting? He pictures her sitting there, head down in grief.

  What now?

  This mess is his fault. If he hadn't been shot, and they hadn't found him, they wouldn't have gone to that deadly town. Jure and Ever would know nothing of his blood and the serum formula. He would be ignorant of it. Or if he'd simply died after being shot, Jure wouldn't be lost and Ever hopelessly waiting. They'd be back with their clan by now.

  Nausea. It's sudden. Unsure of this new feeling, the boy builds up the fire and scoots next to it in an attempt to capture more warmth. His wound aches, increasing in intensity. He holds his side and rocks back and forth to back down the pain.

  After endless rocking, the ache starts to spread. From his side, it moves upward and inward. His chest tightens. A coldness replaces the ache and creeps across his chest. The fire needs more wood, but the icy numbness has spread to his right arm. The simple act of putting a stick on the fire is nearly impossible.

  Feebly gripping the largest piece of wood, he places it on the fire. His arm shakes, almost toppling the burning sticks. Why the shaking? The new piece of wood catches fire, and he speaks a soft thank you to the wood. The flames engulf it, popping and crackling as they spread.

  One moment, Bae is watching the fire. The next, he's toppled over on his side in a fetal position, not sure if it was a conscious act on his part, or involuntary. He hugs his legs tightly to his chest. The shaking continues, but he manages to keep his arms locked. Even though the fire stands between his body and the world outside, its heat feels far away, the icy chill gaining in strength. With eyes shut tight, each moment stretches out in time. It's all Bae can do to cope with the strange attack on his body.

  This becomes his world, each moment as intense as the previous one. The physical world of the cave and fire and mesa fade into specters and shadows.

  Is he dying?

  In and out of awareness now, he opens his eyes, once, and notices he's vomited up a yellow liquid with chunks of dried jerky, undigested in the dirt next to his face. His eyes close, and he feels the sensation of falling down into a faraway place, a dark place of numbness.

  ~

  Dream? Or is it real? Bae has no idea. He's in a place, an inner chamber of some sort. It's dark, but with enough variation in the shadows to perceive walls and a floor. A part of him, a part of his mind, knows he's not in the cave. This place isn't part of the real
world, the world he knows. This place is different. Maybe it's underground. Not sure.

  In front of him, a dull red glow illuminates the walls a short distance away. They’re not cave walls but walls like a building would have, made of ancient brick and mortar. He can now see enough to know he's in a narrow passage. The sickly glow comes from around a bend. He can sense he's still lying on his side but now stretched out, not how he lay next to the fire. There's no fire in this place.

  The red glow intensifies. Bae shudders. Something he does not want to see or touch is around that bend. The icy cold comes from there. It stabs into his body where it grips his heart. Again, he shudders.

  He wants to jump up off the ground and run from this place, but his legs won't work. Numb, his body fails to respond to his mind's fear. He's trapped. And the glow keeps growing more intense.

  The source of the glow is at the edge of the bend now. His heart beats wildly. His mind locks onto what's there, moving his way. The blood courses through his veins in icy numbness.

  Oh my god!

  Two red eyes appear. They hold Bae's with their intensity. They reach down into his core and lock onto him with their terror. Red slits arc to sharp points at their outer edge, like wings. Bae's mouth opens to scream, but he has no breath. His scream is silent. The eyes are closer now, around the corner and fully in the chamber.

  "Oh, god!" he shrieks. But only in his mind.

  ~

  "Bae!"

  The boy's rocking. His body's moving back and forth, but not from the red eyes. There's a voice calling from far away.

  "Bae. WAKE UP!"

  The red eyes, nearly at him, waver and disappear. Bae feels himself being pulled out of the dark chamber by the call. He struggles to open his eyes. They feel glued shut. Finally, the lids separate and he sees the night, the darkness of a real night. The glow of a fire reflects off cave walls. And there’s a face.

  "Ever? " he whispers.

  "Yes, Bae," she says and leans down and hugs him. "It's me. I'm here." She has tears in her eyes. "It's okay, cousin. You're safe now."

  Bae struggles to sit up. Ever helps. Groggy, he tries to orient to the world he knows. Half of him feels left in that black passage. But the firelight and Ever's voice bring him back to the cave. He sees how his little fire is now much bigger. He reaches out his hands. The cold reluctantly leaves his chest and wound as he soaks up the warmth. Firelight and fire back down the icy darkness.

  "Ever," he says again. "You're here."

  Ever leans close and looks into Bae's eyes, grim-faced. Bae smiles weakly, recognizing the look.

  "Seems you're always having to rescue me," he says.

  "You cried out," she says, sitting back and ignoring his comment. "That's how I found you."

  "I was in a bad place."

  Ever studies Bae's face but says nothing. He stares at the fire.

  "I only guessed the direction you went," she confesses. "The rain washed away your tracks. I had to imagine I was you, but it felt hopeless."

  Bae looks at Ever, his mind clearing. She sits next to him, feeding sticks into the fire. He shifts his gaze out through the junipers and sees stars, no clouds. Their red color thrusts him back to the black chamber. He looks back down at the fire.

  "Bae," Ever speaks. "I was wrong to tell you to go. I don't know what came over me." Bae hears the pain in her voice. "It's like I suddenly woke up, and you were gone."

  Ever grips Bae's forearm with her left hand. Squeezes it gently.

  "I gathered everything and ran after you. But the storm was full blown and made a mess of your tracks. I thought I lost you." She tears up again. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay. We're together again."

  Both of them stare at the fire.

  "I didn't know where to go," Bae says.

  The fire. The stars. The trees and cave. Ever, sitting next to him. All of it is pushing away the dark dream and icy numbness. He doesn't tell her about it. It's still too close.

  The two gather needles from under the junipers for bedding. It's good to move his body. Bae studies the ancient trees and touches each one as he gathers their needles. The girl notices and smiles. Soon, they are settled and sleep is close for both of them.

  "Ever?"

  "Yes."

  "Maybe G is out there. Maybe he's okay."

  "I hope so, Bae. I miss him."

  "Me, too."

  Chapter 61 - Safe

  Bae's awake. It's first light, but that's not what woke him. The crackle of a fire is unmistakable, a freshly built one. Ever must be awake already—but no! She's still in her sleeping spot. Bae sits up.

  At the fire, watching the sleepers, is G. He's covered in mud except for his face and hair. His clothing is torn in places, and his left arm is in a makeshift sling, formed from his head wrap. Blood is on it and across his chest. Ever stirs and looks up.

  "G!" she cries and scrambles the distance to her grandfather in seconds. She falls into his hug. Bae also stands, goes to G, and joins the embrace.

  "I thought I lost you, G," Ever says. Then she looks at Bae. "We thought we'd lost you."

  G motions the two to sit down across the fire from him. He picks up a piece of rawhide with his good arm. Something's on it, and he passes it to them. It's a slimy, gelatin-looking plant—prickly pear cactus. Bae eagerly grabs a slice and passes the rawhide to Ever. G watches. Ever and Bae gulp down the cactus pulp, then pepper the old man with questions.

  "What happened, G?" Ever asks.

  "Where did you go?" Bae asks. "Why didn't you come to the rendezvous place?"

  "You're hurt," Ever says and starts to get up. G motions her to stay seated.

  "How did you find us?"

  G puts up his hand. "Settle down, you two," he says and smiles. "I will answer your questions. But first, eat. You have stories to tell, also. I see it in your eyes. Especially Bae's."

  G passes more prickly pear fruit over to them and some jerky. He'd retrieved his pack earlier while Ever and the boy were sleeping. Bae realizes Ever carried all their gear from the rendezvous spot.

  "I'll talk. You eat," G says. "After you sent the flaming arrow into the hunters, I used your distraction to get out of the field and to the dump. Nice work, Granddaughter."

  "I saw you running through the dump," Bae interrupts.

  "Yeah," Ever adds. "We also saw you on the slope."

  "Yes," he says. "My only hope for you two was to draw them away from your spot. When they started shooting at the rim, I thought the worst."

  G adds wood to the fire from a dry supply, larger than the ones from the packrat nest. Bae and Ever chew the venison jerky, eyes glued on G.

  "When they were done shooting at you, they focused on me. Their spotlights caught me just as I topped the rim west of your position. I prayed you two were on your way to the rendezvous spot. One gunman fired a shot as soon as the light profiled me and hit my arm."

  "How bad is it?" Ever asks.

  "It's fine. The bullet passed through my forearm. No bone damage. It bled until I found sagebrush and I packed the entry and exit wounds."

  "Where did you go?" Bae asks.

  The fire crackles. The sun climbs higher, the red hue across the sky lightning. G stays silent, lost in the memory of his flight.

  "They were at the saddle quicker than I expected, in the sandrail. Knew my direction, somehow." Lost in thought for a moment. "I was pinned down in the woods, near the saddle, most of the night. They weren't sure where I was, but random shooting made movement dangerous."

  "How did you escape?"

  "That part of the story will have to wait." G's face looks grave. "It's for another time."

  The old man looks intently at Ever, nods his head as if satisfied, then looks at Bae, a penetrating look.

  "Something's different about you, son," he says. "I can't see it, but I feel it. Tell me."

&
nbsp; Bae sits stunned. How does he know?

  "The dark medicine man," Bae begins. His voice is low. "He was there. In the Bronco."

  "The one who tracked you and your horse?"

  "Yes. After Ever's arrow hit the ground, he looked up at us. At me. I was using the binoculars. It felt like he reached through them into me."

  Bae's voice trails off. The wound throbs. Unaware of his action, he puts his hand on the area to ease the pain. G watches.

  "How do you feel?" he asks in his steady voice.

  "Sometimes cold inside. Like last night . . ."

  Ever glances at Bae, then at G. The old man notices.

  "What happened, Ever?"

  "I found Bae," she says. "Here. It was late."

  "You found Bae? G asks, surprised. "Were you separated?" His tone has an edge to it.

  "Well," Ever hesitates. "For a little while."

  "We got separated in the storm," Bae says, suddenly. "I found this shelter and waited."

  Ever, just in time, hides her surprised look before G turns his attention back to her.

  "When I showed up here, Bae was having a nightmare. I had to shake him awake."

  "What happened, Bae?"

  The dark chamber feels close at the mention of his dream. His vision dims. "I don't know. Something bad was there, in my dream."

  Bae's body shudders from the memory. Automatically, he reaches for the flames, for the warmth they give. G reaches across the fire and touches Bae's forehead. Cold.

  "We need to go," G says. "This story clears up a confusion. Something or someone was out there last night in the saddle above the town. It searched for me. Not in the physical. From another place. Pulled on me. Tried to force me to reveal myself."

  "The bad medicine man?" Bae whispers.

  "Are you talking about the man who hunted you?"

  "Yes," Bae answers.

  "Maybe, son. Whatever it was or is, Bae, it's not here now," G assures him. The old man turns and looks out past the ancient junipers. "But we need to leave this place. Now." "We need to get back to our clan."

  The old man's eyes have a faraway, melancholy look. "You've been touched by something beyond my skill to remove," he says. "But I know someone who can help."

  Ever looks confused and opens her mouth to speak, but the old man speaks first.