by J. Thorn
Still, she pushed forward until she was roughly halfway across the gap, then some unguided instinct kicked in and she spun around, turning back, unable to leave the darkness behind. She swung the torch in a wide arc and peered into the blackness. In the other hand, she held the Remington, the exploding stick. It was heavy, but somehow, she managed to lift it up and point the barrel into the void, and she stood there, panting.
Nothing moved. No noise. No demons came rushing out of the shadows to devour her.
She began to slowly back toward the entrance, convinced that if she rushed to escape she could be attacked from behind at any time. At least if she edged away and faced the fear that chased her, she may be able to make it out.
But still there was no noise or movement. Nothing stirred in the shadows, and if dark creatures crawled between the huge metal vehicles, she couldn’t see them. After what seemed an age, she bumped her shoulder on the doorframe, glanced behind her and quickly stepped through.
The space beyond the last dark hall was a much smaller room, no bigger than her hut back at the village. Old, broken furniture was strewn across the floor and boxes were stacked in one corner. There was a row of metal cabinets lining one wall, all the drawers pulled out, the contents scattered across the floor—more rotten paper, destroyed gradually over many years by damp and mold—damaged enough that she couldn’t tell what had been kept in them.
There was a desk in the middle of the room, behind which a skeleton sat in a high-backed chair. The ancient, dead thing was so thickly covered in cobwebs that the bones could barely be seen.
Sorcha barked from across the room and Seren jumped, unused to the she-wolf being so loud; the noise was amplified by the dead quiet. Seren glanced once more at the hall, checking that she wasn’t being followed, and then turned toward the open doorway in the opposite wall. Bright sunlight shone in from outside, painting the long dead figure in the chair with a disconcerting ethereal glow. She hurried to follow Sorcha as the wolf padded out the door to escape the darkness and whatever lived in there.
Chapter 28
The woods beckoned. Gideon couldn’t rationalize why he was both drawn to and repulsed by the empty wilderness that lay beyond the camp. He stared into the early morning light, his eyes watery and burning from lack of sleep. His father and the other warriors spoke loudly, and it would have been almost impossible for Gideon to fall asleep anyway. So, when the sun finally broke through the morning sky, he decided to take a walk.
“I’m going to hunt,” he told Jonah.
His father initially protested, and suggested a warrior go as well, but Gideon convinced him that the Cygoa were not active on this side of the breach. With so much to do and figure out before the rest of the clans arrived, Jonah nodded and told Gideon to be back by sundown. He expressly forbade his son from going anywhere near the breach, but what Gideon’s father did not see could not anger him—or so Gideon thought.
He decided to head south. It was just as good as heading north. Gideon knew what was east and west and therefore had no desire to go in either of those directions. The sun bit into a cool blue sky, and the golden light pushed thoughts of the Valk into the realm of nightmares, an unreal yet certain memory of creatures that rarely ventured into the daylight to claim victims.
And yet, why am I so curious about them?
Gideon walked past the waste piles and makeshift latrines of the camp and continued deeper into the forest. The boy had found a discarded shirt just outside the camp and had stuffed it into his pack. Now, he sat on a rock and removed it. The cloth was old, probably made by someone who was long since dead. Gideon held it up and tore one inch strips from the shirt. When he was finished, he had a dozen or so cloth strips about sixteen inches long. Although the color had faded over the years, Gideon would easily see the red-tinted strips of fabric against the dark brown bark of the trees. He stood up and turned around, tying a strip to the closest sapling.
“There,” he said, smiling and placing his hands on his hips.
A bird flew overhead and Gideon watched it. It appeared to be a red-tailed hawk, and it coasted in a huge circle one hundred feet in the air. Gideon thought about what it would be like to see the ground from that height. He had always gone as high as he could into the ruins, whenever the clan encountered them, but even the tallest structures sat far below the heights to which the birds could soar. Some of the Elk elders claimed that people used to be able to fly through the air, though Gideon thought that was a ridiculous thing to believe. When he was a small child, he’d tried using hides to make wings, but he had never been able to get airborne.
Gideon walked south. The land gently sloped in that direction, making the walk favorable, although the opposite would be true on the way back to camp. As Gideon reached what he had visually marked as the horizon, he tied another piece of fabric to a tree.
“Breadcrumbs.”
He had no idea what “bread” was, but Leta had used that term once. She said when she was scavenging she always left breadcrumbs to find her way out. It didn’t matter how silly it sounded, Gideon knew Leta was a tough, wise old woman, and he trusted her methods.
He continued his exploration for the better part of the morning, until the sun had reached its zenith. Gideon had become lost in his thoughts about flying humans and Leta’s scavenging. He took a deep breath and opened his left hand. One thin strip of fabric remained, but Gideon could not remember tying the last few rags to trees. The last one could have been tied into a knot ten minutes ago or three hours prior.
Gideon spun, his eyes scanning the trees in the distance. He searched for a glimpse of red fabric, but bare tree trunks stretched as far as he could see. None of them had been marked with red cloth.
“Shit.”
The profanity sounded good in his ears; forceful, as if he could command the deteriorating situation with harsh words. But as he looked up at the sun, Gideon began to spin the situation in his head. He couldn’t remember when he had last tied a marker on a tree, and therefore he wasn’t sure from which direction he had come. Even the topography appeared to shift, the land funneling him down into a valley but with other peaks on the horizon.
Gideon started to run, knocking brush out of the way as he hustled by. Tears formed in his eyes and he felt the sting of prickly bushes ripping at the skin on his arms. He stopped and put his hands on his knees, hunched over, and gulped in air. His father would crucify him. That would be if he was lucky. Most likely, he’d never find his way back to the camp and he’d be eaten alive by an animal, or…
No. I can’t let my thoughts go there.
Gideon stood and raised his hands to the sky, stretching and filling his lungs with oxygen. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the wicked thoughts racing through his mind.
Chapter 29
The second fire made no sense. Hallis stared at it through the trees, ducking beneath branches and peering around the darkened trunks, as if a better view would explain it. He turned to Kella and huffed.
“It’s smaller. Controlled. The other, it’s burning wild.”
“That’s what fires do. Are you expecting it to spout water?”
“Fuck you.”
Kella sat down on the rock and scratched her grubby skin. She hadn’t washed in days.
Hallis took one more look at the distant fires and leaned against the pine tree. They had found the copse fifty paces from the camp in the direction of the breach and their enemies. The heavy branches hung low with a sweet aroma while also hiding them from other scouting parties. Hallis stomped on the soft needles covering the ground. His boot made a light thump.
“It’s comfortable, Hallis. Lie down. You’ll see.”
“This is guard duty, bitch.”
“Fuck you.”
Hallis bent and slapped Kella across the face. She dropped her head, her hair hanging in long, twisted strands, now touching the pine needles. The woman pulled her knees up to her chest but did not lift her head. He couldn’t tell whether she was la
ughing or crying, her body silently shaking beneath her mangy hair.
He laughed, sitting down next to her. Kella’s elbow came up so quickly that Hallis heard it hit his jaw before he felt it. He dropped back, the pines swirling over his head like giant monsters. He blinked. Hallis licked blood from the split lip dealt by Kella’s blow.
“You gonna regret that, girl.”
“Promise?” Kella said with a grin.
A twig snapped to his right. He turned his head toward the sound and whispered. “Did you hear that?”
Kella had already reached for the knife on her belt.
Nearly caught with my pants down, Hallis thought.
“Your shift is up.”
Kella was on her feet by the time Darnat and Gus ducked beneath the branches and into the copse of pines. The air stank of heated bodies. Darnat spoke again.
“How long has it been since you washed in the lake, girl? Starting to smell like a drowned muskrat.”
Gus laughed, but Hallis grimaced. Kella had already snuck off into the darkness to leave the men to their conversation.
Darnat turned to Hallis. “How many years now you been hitting that thing?”
“Shut up. You see both fires?” Hallis asked, ignoring Darnat’s question.
“Could be the Elk,” said Gus. “Or maybe the dead spirits breathing fire from the breach.”
Darnat took one last look in the direction that Kella had taken. “I wish Carlossa would show up, already. I’m not comfortable scouting these woods with the Elk nearby. They’re bizarre folk. They worry me.”
“Not enough to keep yer pecker down.”
Gus slapped Darnat on the shoulder, the two having one last laugh at Hallis’ expense. Kella returned, knife in hand. The men stopped laughing.
“Let’s take them out. Judging by the size of the fire, there can’t be that many.”
“No. Our orders were to scout and report. If we go and—”
Gus and Darnat hit the ground. Hallis hadn’t been listening carefully while he was talking and therefore was the last to take cover. The noise came from the opposite direction of the fire, where a small party moved through the woods. They were headed toward the fires…or possibly toward them.
The four scouts remained perfectly still. The strong aroma of the pine needles made Hallis’ nose itch, and for a moment, he feared a sneeze. The urge passed, as did whoever else was moving through the darkened forest. They all waited several moments to make sure the threat was gone.
Kella reappeared as if she had materialized from the fire’s smoke. “The archers.”
“Who?” asked Hallis.
“Archers. The hunters. They’re with the Elk. But not Elk.”
Gus and Darnat looked at Hallis. Hallis shook his head, and Darnat shrugged.
“Well, you always had the best eyes,” said Hallis. “Are you sure they was who you say they was?”
Kella brushed a lock of hair from her face. Pine needles and pieces of leaves fell to her shoulder. She nodded.
“Then we wait. Carlossa will know what to do.”
“We’re going back to camp,” Darnat said. “Leave you two to finish what ya started.”
Chapter 30
Clouds formed overhead and blocked the sun. Gideon thought it was probably mid-afternoon but the dark storm mimicked twilight. He had finally stopped running, and he turned to face the direction in which the tree fell. There were no humans around and no good reason for the tree to come crashing down of its own accord.
No, humans, he thought.
Gideon grabbed at his side, where the stabbing of a cramp made him wince with each breath. His belly ached with hunger and he had finished the water in his flask hours ago. The boy sat down and put his head in his hands while silent tears rolled off his fingers and into the dirt.
He had done something foolish. This was exactly the reason his father had forbidden him to go out exploring. Gideon had rolled his eyes, thinking Jonah was being a typical parent who didn’t want his child to grow up too fast. Whatever happened to him now would be his own fault, and yet his parents would pay the price with their own grief. They would be left wondering what happened to their son, forced to assume that his disappearance meant death. Gideon sobbed, now picturing his mother running through the trees and calling his name. The forest would swallow her cries. The trees were so dense that she could pass within twenty feet of him and they’d never see each other.
A rumble of thunder shook him from his own misery. He stood up and flicked the tears from his face as the first droplets of rain found their way through the canopy and to the forest floor. Gideon turned and saw a faint trail heading into what he thought was the east. The deer would not have been active during the long winter, but even a young, inexperienced hunter could see the trail the animals had used for generations. He took a step toward it and the sky opened and the rain came in waves of icy, cold daggers.
Gideon stumbled forward while the storm unleashed its fury upon him. Rivulets of water formed at his feet, and within minutes he was soaked to the core. Up ahead, he spotted what looked like the mouth of a cave. Images of the Valk passed through his head and so he turned and walked away from the cave and further down the deer trail. It took him around a copse of oak trees and down a hill. Gideon ran, not knowing where he was going or why he had to get there so quickly. His feet slapped off the thick layer of wet leaves. Gideon pushed harder, his thighs burning and his hair now plastered to his face. The trail turned and that was when he felt his right foot slide out. His field of vision turned from the trunks up to the canopy a split second before the back of his head slammed off the ground. He saw bright flashes and then nothing but darkness.
He opened his eyes to a searing pain at the back of his head. The rain was still coming down hard and the storm clouds held fast in the gray sky. Gideon realized that he had fallen and been knocked unconsciousness, but not for long. He felt for the sore spot on his head and pulled away a hand smeared with blood. Not enough to panic over, but Gideon was bleeding, nonetheless. The water ran down the trail and over his legs depositing mud and rocks in his boots. He sat up and felt the earth sway beneath his feet. Gideon waited and the vertigo passed. When he turned to his left, he saw it.
The breach.
His father had warned him to stay away from it. And with good reason. Although he couldn’t say for sure, Gideon believed the loose soil on the ridge of the breach had given way, and that was what had brought the massive tree to the ground. The earth was unstable, and anything could be pulled into the breach at any moment.
Gideon stood, brushing the mud from his legs and wincing at the open wound on the back of his head. Head wounds bled profusely but they eventually stopped. He took a step to the right and was able to gain a better vantage point above the breach.
It stretched out before him, and the chasm took on the shape of an old hourglass. He could see how the ends flared out, but there was a narrow middle passage where the space from one side of the breach to the other was less than ten feet.
He pushed through a few saplings bordering the deer trail. The rain subsided and the sun began to burn through the relenting storm clouds. Gideon estimated about four hours of daylight left. He had no idea where he was, or how long it would take to find shelter, but simply knowing the amount of daylight remaining alleviated some of his worry.
Gideon stood on the edge of the breach and smiled. “Here. This is where we can cross. A few felled trees would even let us take the carts over.”
He leaned over and stared into the dark abyss below. Gideon began to second-guess his assessment. If the earth was as unstable as he believed it to be, there was no guarantee that the edges wouldn’t crumble and pull people down into that black hole.
“But it’s something. The bridge is out, and even if it wasn’t, the Cygoa are there. If Dad could bring the clans this way…”
Gideon wiped the dirt from his face with his shirt sleeve. He turned all the way around, searching for some identifiab
le marker that would lead him back to camp, some tree or feature that would jog his memory. The empty, silent forest stared back at him.
“The buck went this way. Follow me.”
Gideon dropped to his stomach without hesitation at the sound of the voice. He crawled beneath a fallen tree trunk where he waited to see who would come down the trail.
Chapter 31
“That damn hole in the ground has changed their patterns. I’m telling you they ain’t runnin’ this way no more. They’re staying on one side of the gap or the other.”
Gideon held his breath as long as he could before exhaling slowly through his nose. He felt an itch on the bottom of his foot, and something was crawling over his knee. He peered over the log and watched as the men came into view. Two appeared, each carrying a long blowpipe adorned with exotic feathers.
“Lookie here.”
One hunter bent down and used his fingertips to caress a tiny pile of leaves on the side of the trail.
“What is it?”
“Ain’t no buck. Somethin’ bigger than that came through here.”
They both loaded darts into their blowpipes and turned to face the forest on their side of the breach.
Gideon closed his eyes as the light touch of the insect moved from his knee to his thigh. He listened but the hunters had stopped talking.
“Come on out.”
He opened his eyes but stayed motionless and hidden. Gideon knew they were talking to him, but he wasn’t about to give up his position.
“We knows you there. Come out now, ‘fore we start shooting darts.”
Gideon stood and turned to face the men, who now stood ten feet away. He glared into one man’s eyes and then the other. They wore skins over their shoulders and their hair appeared in straggled clumps, like the nests of giant hawks, with feathers woven throughout. One hunter wore a pair of old boots while the other was barefoot. They both smiled at him, black gaps where teeth should have been.