“That we were all being fucked brutally up the arse.”
“Really?” Carla smirked.
“Yes, really,” Cain replied with a slow, mocking nod, “and the sad thing is, you enjoyed it so very much; day in, day out. Like a little, pet puppy; you sat down when they told you, ate when they told you, and took a shit when they told you.” Carla continued to smirk, thinking Cain was getting into one of his hilarious rants again.
“But I have some good news,” Cain added.
“Please, do enlighten me?” her eyes mocking him back.
“You’re free of it! Finally, you're free!” he said with a slap of his hands across his thighs. “So use it wisely, and don’t let anybody shackle you in chains again, or you,” pointing his finger at her again, “you, and every other deaf, blind and dumb cunt will be damned again.”
“That’s very charmingly put, and may I say, useful information. I will bear that in mind as I slowly choke on this radioactive shit for dust,” she replied, returning to the buggy. This isn’t freedom; this is life on borrowed time. Look around you, what is this crap blowing in the wind, filling my lungs and killing me slowly? The sands of borrowed time!” she shouted back over her shoulder, swirling her finger in the air at him. Cain followed her to the buggy and jumped in, feeling the heat from the Sun exposed leather seats. He looked across at Carla, at her tired face, her sullen eyes, her matted, unkempt hair.
“Freedom takes its toll on some,” he said aloud. “Some take it by the horns and tame the beast…”
“And others?” Carla interrupted nervously.
“While others see a rabid, wild animal that scares them to death. They run away, looking for the nearest cave to hide in, looking for security and shelter.”
Carla stared ahead silently as Cain started the engine and engaged the gearbox, flooring the accelerator, sending the buggy flying forward.
“So why are we looking for Kyla then? She has tamed the beast as you say, made it in the big wide world. She deserves her freedom, does she not?” Excuse me if I appear confused on the matter.” Carla asked.
“Kyla wants independence, not freedom. She is as scared as everyone else by this little situation. Her eyes don’t even see the beast, only its shadows. She wants to be her own person, strike out on her own, but doesn’t know how to do so, that’s why she’s running.” Carla looked across at Cain confused as he drove the buggy deeper north across the plains.
He looked across at her, sensing her bewilderment before continuing, “She is scared like all the others. She is running from this disaster. It consumes her as she runs, not able to be free until she is free of it.”
“Well, that will never happen, not for any of us.”
“Exactly!”
“Even for you,” Carla said above the roar of the engine.
“Maybe, and point taken, but the beast doesn’t scare me, not as it did before.”
“Really, now!” Carla said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“Really, yes,” Cain replied with enthusiasm. “The beast has been wounded, maybe fatally. There is no system of control over us anymore. Don’t you see that?”
“Yes, but we are still limited, by the disaster, are we not? We will always be bound by something, restrained against our true will by the forces of nature alone?”
“Of course, but not by anyone’s rules anymore, and that’s the important difference. We are as the wild animals now, free to build our own system, choose our own way, free of rules, regulations, and bullshit. Free to explore our environment as it truly is and shape it to our needs.”
“Look ahead!” Carla exclaimed. “Do you see it?”
“Yes, yes, I see it,” Cain replied as he strained his eyes, looking through the thick, yellow haze. “A land ship,” he continued. “A lovely little ship, parked in the middle of nowhere, for all to see.” Cain turned the buggy towards the ship, looking eagerly at it, his eyes following the tall wooden mast upwards until it disappeared into the sandy haze. A phrase, almost looking like graffiti, caught Carla’s eyes, etched on its side, The curse of the wild, written haphazardly in bold, red letters across its wooden planks.
“The sails are bound,” Cain said. “Either the crew has gone for a wander, or they are inside resting, sheltering from the wind.” Cain pulled the buggy alongside the ship.
“Looks like it's seen better days,” he said, looking at the splintered, weather-worn wood.
“Shall we take a peek, a little look around?” Cain asked, “See whose home.”
“Could do,” Carla replied as she stepped out of the buggy, looking more tired than ever. The wind was gaining strength, whistling round the ship, rattling its loose wooden frame as the watery Sun blazed down upon them. Cain gave Carla a leg up onto its deck, soon following by climbing up, Carla giving a helpful pull on his arm.
“Nice ship,” Carla said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It certainly looks like it's been through some rough times. I guess the weather doesn’t help too, the state of the wood is shocking,” Cain said as he looked around intently at the woodwork, smoothing it carefully with his hands.
“Maybe it was dumped here a long time ago,” Carla said, looking bored. “Maybe they got stuck here, died, their skeletons inside, grinning with delight that it came to this,” she continued with playful amusement.
“No, look down there, fresh tyre tracks, the sand would have covered them within a day or two if they were not. They must have come recently; very recently. They must be close by.” Cain replied with a stern look on his face, looking around into the desert like he was deep in thought as Carla turned to see the tracks for herself. “Look here, these marks, these holes, shrapnel and bullet holes, even burn marks present around the impact sites,” Cain continued. “This ship has certainly seen some action for sure, and recently.
Carla walked across to the bridge, knocking on the door, it's hollow sound suggesting it was suffering from dry rot.
“Anyone at home? I think we took a wrong turn, and it would be so kind of you if you could give us some directions so that we could be on our way,” she shouted through the door. “Hello, hello o!” she continued, breaking out into a laugh.
“Stop this nonsense,” Cain said angrily. “There’s no fucker here, that is plainly obvious! One fucking beer is all you’ve had and look at you!” Carla looked across at him with a sly smile on her face before opening the door and walking inside. Cain quickly followed her but was stopped at the door by Carla.
“No don’t, it's too gruesome,” she said as she raised her shades to look him in the eye.
“Fuck off, get out my way or I’ll punch you out my way,” he replied, throwing her aside. Cain looked around.
“There’s no fuck here, you dizzy bitch,” he said, looking at the blankets on the floor. “But they must be close, look at all this water, no one would leave so much fucking water,” he continued in amazement looking at the dozens of bottled water lined up in a row on the floor. Carla picked up one of the blankets and held it to her nose.
“The sweat is fresh, young and female,” she said, throwing the blanket back to where she picked it up. “What a doss-hole,” she continued. “They could’ve at least given it a lick of fresh paint, hung some pictures up on the wall, put a nice carpet down,” she said smiling at Cain. He picked up the blankets and looked at them. Just as he was about to chuck them back on the floor, Cain saw something grabbed his attention. He pulled the blanket nearer his face, staring at a small bracelet half-hidden in the folds. He picked it up, placing it in his palm, looking stunned.
“Do you know who this belongs to?” he asked Carla, walking over to her and pointing eagerly at the bracelet.
“Let me guess,” holding her finger to her mouth, playing the bad actress before saying, “Bayliss?”
“No!
“Perhaps one of yours then?
“No! No! No!”
“I have no bloody idea then,” she teased. Cain clenched his
lips firmly tight, giving out a large sigh through his nose as his cheeks bloated, turning blood red.
“She’s staying here, on this ship,” he suddenly burst out. “Here!”
“Oh, you mean, what’s her name,” she said with a sneer. “Ah yes, almost forgot, Kayleigh.”
“Kyla!” he said throwing the blanket at her.
She laughed, “Oh come on, that trinket could be one of many of its kind. It could have fallen from the wrist of any girl.”
“No, I sense her here.”
“You want badly to think she’s here.”
“Either way, I intend to find out,” he said as his eyes glazed over.
He rushed back out through the door, his forceful haste almost unhinging it, running out onto the deck, frantically circling its perimeter, looking deep out as far as he could see into the desert.
“She’s here, I know it,” he said aloud, not caring if Carla was listening or not.
“She’s fucking close,” he continued in a muffled tone, “so close, I can almost feel her touching my skin.” He heard Carla’s footsteps behind, slowly creeping up on him, the soles of her boots clanking against the dry rotten wood of the deck as her skirt fluttered in the wind. Cain continued to look out into the swirling, dusty wind, the tracks of the ship now completely covered.
“Lost in time,” he whispered to himself, “as we all will; today, tomorrow, doesn’t matter when. The sand will surely consume us all.”
Surprise Catch
Tawny peeked through the key hole of the wooden door. She could see that the night’s snowfall had been heavy, and it was melting fast in the rising Sun’s heat as its large, red orb glanced above the horizon. Here it would stay for most of the short day, trekking westwards across the southern escarpment. She breathed in the fresh, cool air, causing her to cough a little. She yawned, quickly dressing as she shivered. She opened the door to let in the Sunlight.
“Oh leave it out,” Dawlis complained, covering her eyes with her arm.
“It’s past Sunrise,” Tawny replied, the pupils of her eyes constricting as she looked out into the bright, morning sky, her mottled, brown irises radiant with life. She combed her long, blonde hair and walked outside barefoot into the snow. She could hear it squish under her feet, its coldness melting away and running between her toes, causing her to shudder. Dawlis quickly dressed and followed, her mousey hair still tangled across her shoulders from the long night.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh,” she huffed as she ran after Tawny. “Maybe we should make some shoes from deerskin or something. You know, just for the morning, before it all melts.” Dawlis looked over her shoulder to her sister, shocked at how dark her eyes had become from lack of sleep. Her sister, a perpetual worrier, was hardly suited to the rough life she thought, but she would have to hack it, she had no choice.
“The Sun will warm up those toes of yours soon enough,” Tawny said and smiled.
The snow was melting fast, forming small networks of rivulets that trickled down the hill and into the forest below, the Sun sparkling off its surface. Dawlis looked south and scanned the horizon, watching dust rise, forming a dark brown fog that the Sun glided across elegantly.
“Do you think the dust storms will ever come north,” Dawlis asked, “all the way to us?”
“Who knows. They never have, though, have they, but they look thicker and darker lately,” Tawny replied, watching the rising sandy clouds curl in on themselves as they advanced north.
“Those creepy horns at night, you still think it’s the Others?”
“Yes, has to be them,” Tawny said, rubbing her sister’s shoulder.
“But why all of a sudden?” Dawlis replied, “And all night long.”
“I think they’re trying to hold the storms back.”
“How?”
“Through ritual and magic.”
“But the sound is so haunting and scary like they’re announcing that something terrible is going to happen.”
“I guess that’s the point, but more to scare back the storms, the spirits that drive them.”
“Well, it’s sure driving me mad.”
Tawny didn’t want to mention it. She guessed her sister had worked it out also anyway. The storms would force people north, and they may have to put up with some unwanted visitors.
“Those horns, they're not for the storms or any spirits, they're for people, flesh and blood like us,” Dawlis said with worry in her eyes. “They want to scare the people north, ahead of the storms.”
“It’s a distinct possibility,” her sister replied.
“How many do you think will come?
“Depends on how many will make it, I guess.” She gazed at the developing sandstorms to the south. “There must be a lot of desperate people down there, searching for food and water. Come, let’s make the most of the light,” Tawny said, quickly changing the subject, running down to the forest, beckoning her sister to follow.
The snow had almost melted by the time they had reached the forest, making the warming air humid. The leaves and grass smelt fresh as they walked under its extensive canopy, the Sun blinking through from above as they walked among the trees.
“I think they have learnt to avoid those traps,” Dawlis said. “They have seen it so many times before, heard the cries of pain.”
“It’s true, we haven’t caught anything for a while,” Tawny said, looking disappointed that the trap at her feet was empty yet again. “Maybe we can come up with a new way to trap animals? she continued. Dawlis raised her eyebrows and quickly turned as she heard a rustle in the trees behind them.
“Maybe we have spoken too soon?” she said quietly with anticipation.
“I hope so! I’m getting fed up of those berries,” Tawny added with a whisper.
“The mushrooms are getting a bit tasteless as well,” Dawlis said with a smile. They both looked high into the trees at the wriggling net above them, before looking at each other excitedly. Tawny cut the rope holding the net up with one forceful swing of her knife, and the trap came hurtling down with a thump.
“Fuck!” came a voice from inside. Tawny could see a leg wriggling through the mesh as if in desperation, kicking this way and that. The sisters looked at each other startled as a boy struggled to free himself from the tangled web.
“Hello?” Tawny said. The boy continued to struggle huffing and puffing.
“For fucks sake!” he yelled, rolling up into a sitting position, looking startled when he noticed the girls.
“Hello,” Tawny repeated a bit louder. “What are you doing in our net?”
“How the fuck should I know! One minute I was down here, and then I’m flying through the fucking air,” the boy said, brushing off leaves from his body. Tawny could see his deeply tanned arms and face, his clothes covered in sand, his body emaciated.
“Looks like the first one from the south has arrived,” Tawny said dejectedly, the boy looking at them with confusion.
“Should we cut him free,” Dawlis asked Tawny worriedly.
“Course you should cut me fucking free!” the boy pleaded angrily, frantically trying to break the net open with his hands. Tawny put a hand over her mouth in amazement, her eyes wide like saucers as she caught sight of an object lying in the grass.
“What is it?” Dawlis asked curiously.
“Look!” Tawny exclaimed, running over to the black metallic object that was lying on the ground, half hidden in the grass.
“A gun!” It had a bayonet running along its underside, its sharp pointed tip just ahead of the barrel.
“Wow!” Dawlis exclaimed. “It’s just like what granddad had.”
“Yes, it is! So much so!” Tawny added, before turning again to the trap and its prisoner. “Is this yours, boy?” The boy stopped struggling, looking up at the girls with his tired, brown eyes as he breathed exhaustedly.
“What?” he asked as he looked at the gun in Tawny’s hand. “That is mine. Yes, mine! Dropped it when I was dragged into this fucking net!”
“It fires?” Tawny asked, pointing the gun at the boy.
“Of course it fucking fires!” he replied sharply. “It’s loud, though, you don’t want to rouse anyone else.”
“There are others?” Dawlis asked anxiously.
“I would have thought so,” the boy replied. “Every fucking soul on the planet is coming up here, that’s for sure,” he stated, looking Dawlis boldly in the eyes. The girls looked at each other without saying a word. The boy could sense they were stressed, adding, “Look, get me out of this net and I will tell you about any others, what you need to know.” Tawny and Dawlis look at each other, both nodding.
“Ok, we keep the gun on you, though,” Tawny replied as Dawlis cut open the bind at the top of the trap, opening the net.
“Fine, fucking fine,” the boy said, waving his hands, “but there’s no need, really.” The boy stood up and walked free of the net as it fell down beside him, brushing the rest of the leaves and dust from his clothes and hair. “It’s a good gun, but it’s not for hunting. The noise from the shot would frighten everything away,” the boy said, looking at the pointed tip of the bayonet. There was a moment of silence as all three looked at each other before the boy began again. “More a battle gun, you know, used in war, when the hunted are running towards you, hunting you also.” Tawny started curling her lips as she looked at the boy as he continued talking. “The recoil. You need to be careful about the recoil when you shoot. It’s a bit snappy you see. Can take you unaware, if you’re not used to it. Can really hurt your shoulders.” He paused, smiled, and looked at Tawny then Dawlis before promptly saying. “Jeff. My name is Jeffrey, but everyone calls me Jeff. You can call me either. Up to you?” he continued with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Ok Jeff, I’m Tawny, and this is my sister Dawlis.
“How cool is that! Sisters, and you don’t even look alike. I would have said friends, but now you mention it, the hair, no wait the eyes, not the colour, but the shape. Yes, the shape, definitely sisters. Sisters can have different coloured hair anyway, there’s plenty I know of. Some dye it and who’s to tell then if a girl is a sister to another or not. Not that I’m saying that either of you have dyed hair. But the eyes, you can’t hide the eyes for sure.” Tawny started to giggle, followed soon by Dawlis.
The Sands of Borrowed Time Page 20