Blue

by Brandy Wehinger

  Owen’s face was resolute. ‘That’s my intention.’

  Virgil had to stop himself from smiling.

  Ray twisted in his saddle and leaned towards Owen. ‘Then get out of here! You bloody idiot! You don’t deserve to be a Gunslinger! You’ve always been crap. You’re a waste! You’ve needed us. We’ve always had to put up with how pathetic you are!’ Ray’s face was purple. ‘You can’t survive without us! You’re a fool and deserve to die!’ With that, he jerked the reins and kicked his horse to move away, forgetting again that Lukas was tied to him. Lukas stumbled and fell heavily onto his side. The horse skittered, and dragged Lukas forward, but luckily was too exhausted to keep fighting his rider’s efforts to rein him in for long. Ray, frustrated with his fallen captive, screamed, ‘Get up! Get on your feet!’

  Maria moved her horse forward, leading Elliot behind. Greg clucked his horse to move up next to Ray’s mount. The presence of the other horses seemed to calm the poor animal further, and it moved in beside the steadier horses and followed their pace.

  Virgil and Jessy sat on their horses next to Owen, watching the others move into the desert. A couple of decrepit Corpses lumbered around in the distance.

  ‘I don’t think they’ve realised yet that we’re not going with them,’ Jessy whispered.

  ‘Ray probably thinks you two are trying to talk some sense into me. They’ll figure it out in a minute,’ Owen said. ‘This is going to be nasty.’

  Virgil looked at them and smiled mischievously. ‘They’re going to be pretty slow-moving because of their prisoners.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Jessy looked at him. ‘So?’

  ‘Well, I reckon we’ll be hard to catch. Let’s get out of here before they come back to argue about it. Are you two keen for pulling a runner?’

  Owen laughed. ‘Just like little kids running away, eh?’

  Virgil nodded, and Owen’s eyes grew wide. ‘What are we waiting for, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go!’

  And with that, the three of them spun their horses in the opposite direction from the retreating Gunslingers and galloped off.

  Moving smoothly and quickly over the open ground, Virgil felt a new sense of freedom, and even found himself laughing out loud. Each stride away from Ray was a gift, and beautiful. He leaned down over his horse’s neck and patted her, silently thanking her for saving him.

  They galloped for as long as they thought the horses could manage, then eased them back into a fast trot. It was still demanding on the horses, but the riders all knew that the more distance they put between Ray and themselves, the safer they would be.

  Jessy called out, ‘Where are we going?’

  Virgil looked over at her glowing smile, and felt a brief wave of sorrow for her. It was hard to believe that Ray and Maria were her parents. They had failed so miserably at getting to know their daughter that she’d left them without so much as a goodbye.

  ‘I don’t know. Any ideas?’

  She was silent beside him for a moment, the beat of the horses’ hooves on the earth the only sound. Then she looked shyly at both her companions.

  ‘Let’s head for the mountains.’

  LUKAS, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  LIGHT REFLECTED OFF the baked ground, making it glow and shimmer. The horses looked like moving shadows, their dark bodies contrasted against the pale earth. Lukas had been walking behind Ray’s horse for days on end, and he had burned every contour of its sleek body into his memory. The monotony of the journey, the relentlessness of walking and the bleak landscape were somehow easier to deal with when he focused just on the horse. He imagined that they had always been tied together, forever walking in the desert. That the two of them were destined to carry on like this until the end of time.

  Each time his foot fell into the horse’s arched track, he felt gratified, connected, as if the horse and he were two soldiers fighting together in battle. Lukas quietly promised himself that if he managed to escape, he would take the horse with him. Together they’d find somewhere beautiful to live. He’d feed it apples from his orchard, and it would be his friend in this harsh and horrible world.

  Hour after terrible hour Lukas walked, but he knew that his pain was nothing compared with what Elliot was going through. Elliot, with all his human bodily needs, was looking bad. They’d given him water, but nothing substantial to eat, and already he was looking shrunken, almost skeletal, and was staggering and tripping more often. His fair skin was sunburned and blistered. The thick rope around his neck had rubbed the skin until it was broken and bleeding. His lips were dry and cracked, and his eyes seemed to have sunk back into their sockets. Lukas didn’t know how long the poor fellow could carry on like this — he looked more dead than Lukas did.

  Lukas both pitied and admired the boy. He seemed brave enough to stand up for what was right and to put himself out for others. He used his own judgement to make decisions, rather than following the group mentality of other humans. He’d even chosen a Blue and the pursuit of love over his own family — a risk few would take. He’d attempted to save Lukas without Lukas begging him to do so, and the fact of their being captured didn’t seem to Lukas to lessen his bravery. He only wished he’d be able to return the favour someday — though the chances of that looked bleak.

  ‘Do you think we’ll make it to the City before night?’ Greg’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘We’re cutting it fine, but we’ll get there,’ Ray answered.

  Lukas knew that this meant he was close to meeting the people who would judge and punish him. Finally he might get some kind of an explanation for the way he’d been treated. He tried to imagine the best-case scenario — justice. Perhaps he would have the chance to explain himself and they would see reason. His captors would recognise their mistake and let him go on his way. But Lukas knew this was unlikely. The world had gone crazy, and everything he knew to be true had already dissolved.

  JESSY, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE it. I was going home. There was no other place I wanted to be but back with my friends in the safety of Tree Sanctuary. And it was far away from Ray’s ugly face and my ghost of a mother. It was as if I’d been released from some horrible nightmare and was finally returning to reality.

  Owen was rapt, too. He had been singing as we rode along, and had listed, out loud, all the kinds of food he would eat. ‘No more of this three-ingredients-for-everything cooking. I’m ready for a flavour explosion!’ He even said that he would look for a lady and settle down. ‘I’ll know she’s the one when she can look at me in the morning and not feel sick,’ he said, and we laughed with him.

  Virgil was more reserved than Owen, but it made me happy to see him so light-hearted, so relaxed. Strangely, though, it changed the way I thought of him. I’d always known that Virgil was young, but he’d seemed much older because of the way he acted. Now, with no Ray around, he was so different. And that stirred up strange feelings inside me that I didn’t want to think about.

  I was also immensely pleased to have him at my side during our trip. We’d had some hairy run-ins with Corpses once we left the dryness of the desert and started a slow climb on the old road that gave us a direct route up through the mountains to the Sanctuary. I had forgotten just how fast the mountain Deads are. I guess they’re a bit better fed than the desert Corpses.

  We had been winding through the rusted remains of cars. The horses were having to squeeze through some narrow pathways, and had little room to move, when three Infecteds came out from behind a large car and sprinted at us. The first one was big, and threw itself over the front of a car before darting through the narrow lane separating the metal heaps.

  ‘Get ready!’ Virgil growled.

  I pulled the sharp machete that I always carry from its soft leather casing and held it at the ready. Bob’s muscles tensed. The Corpse had a noticeable limp, but managed a lot of speed. Its naked body was covered with filth and mud, and it smelled like an outhouse. As it got closer, it gnashed the air with its slimy teeth, a
nd we could hear the clattering of its jaws. Gross, I thought. I want to cut its head off.

  Virgil made quick work of it with a single arrow through the eye socket.

  The second and third Corpses came between parked cars and approached us from the side, making it impossible for Virgil to shoot. The fight would have to be a close-up one.

  Owen let out his trademark madman’s laugh and said, ‘Jessy, you’re gonna have to take one of them.’

  ‘I’m happy to,’ I said, feeling the focus and coldness of a hunter. Virgil was in front and not in any position to help, and I knew Owen shouldn’t have to take on two in close combat. I could do this. My year in the desert had changed me and here I was, powerful. The machete in my hand felt solid, like an extension of my body. The horse under me was alert, listening to my every cue. My mind was clear and ready to engage.

  The Corpse that came closest to me was a fresh one, probably only a year or two old. I could tell because all of its clothes were still intact and its skin didn’t seem to have the strange rubbery texture or battle scars common among the older ones. Its eyes weren’t as milky either, still black in the centre, but surrounded by blood-shot red. It let out a congested-sounding, fluid-thick noise.

  The Dead thought it had me, and hurtled itself with full force at Bob’s side. I sidestepped Bob and turned him a quarter, lining myself up with the Corpse. Because of my position, I pretty much let it chop off its own head with my machete.

  Owen sat grinning atop his horse. ‘Well done, girl. You made that look easy.’ His own opponent was dead, too, lying across the top of a car, with its head cracked and its black stinking intestines smeared beside it.

  Virgil smiled and gave me a nod. I blushed and looked down. A sense of pride welled up within me that felt both foreign and fantastic. Sure, I had made kills before, but they had always been a bit sloppy and always the easiest Corpses. The pieces had never come together the way they’d done this time; there had always been something to let me down. If I was riding well, then my combat skills were off. If I had a good shot lined up, then I’d lose control of my horse and nearly tumble out of the saddle. After my year of hard lessons in the desert, I’d finally nailed it. I was a Gunslinger, with a new sense of self-worth.

  The rest of the journey went more smoothly, although it seemed to take forever. We rode the horses further up into the mountains, following old paths when we could, and finally ended up on an old unpaved track that led to the Tree Sanctuary. Virgil seemed relieved when I told him that I already had a secure enclosure waiting for us. Or at least I hoped I did, if Xavier had been honest in his letters. When I confessed to Virgil and Owen that I had been planning to leave the Gunslingers for months and had asked my friends to get somewhere ready for Bob, Owen just nodded and said, ‘You were wise, kid.’

  Still, I was nervous as we took our horses on the path that would take us to the place I called home. I’d changed. The person returning was stronger, harder and a Gunslinger. I’d never be able to pretend to be anything different.

  KATIE, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  IT WAS AGONY to see Elliot and the Blue get dragged through the desert, and without any prospect of rescue. My emotions swung between outrage and the desire to attack the Gunslingers like a wild animal, and hopelessness and self-pity. I really believed I would find an opportunity to rescue Elliot and the Blue, but day after day of following, and nothing presented itself. The Gunslingers had weapons and knew how to use them, they never let their guard down, and they barely stopped to rest and sleep. There just wasn’t any opening.

  The other problem was that my Vespa was noisy out in the desert and kicked up a cloud of dust. To remain unnoticed, I had to follow them from afar. By the time I’d parked and snuck up to the camp at the end of each day, they’d be packing up to leave. So I’d race back to the motor scooter and follow again. It was a useless routine, and I felt ridiculous.

  I have to say that I was feeling extremely frustrated and stupid. And I was filthy from travelling and wanted to brush my teeth. So the new plan was: continue to follow the Gunslingers to the City. Once there, I would sneak in and figure out how to spring Elliot and the Blue from their lockdown. Of course I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do once I got to that point. And that made me feel like vomiting. I’d think about all the impossible hurdles I would have to overcome to save them, and then what would happen if I didn’t — and that just wasn’t bearable.

  I missed him. It was weird not having Elliot there to tell all my random thoughts to. Not being held at night and not having someone to wake up with. When I saw something pretty or interesting, there was no one to admire it with me. Without him to reflect my world, everything now looked grey. The landscape was lifeless. I was alone.

  What Elliot truly was to me had become apparent — he was my partner in this strange Zombie world. He accepted me for who and what I was, and that was as rare and precious as anything I’d known.

  So what was I to do?

  LUKAS, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  THE GUNSLINGER NAMED Greg tentatively approached Lukas and said, ‘Now, just take it easy. Don’t do anything crazy.’

  ‘I’m not the one acting crazy, dragging innocent people through the desert,’ Lukas replied. Greg blinked and looked at him with a stupid expression. This guy is really slow in the brain department, Lukas thought.

  But then Greg walked over to Elliot and untied the saliva-sodden gag from around his face. The corners of Elliot’s mouth had split and the skin under the gag had broken down, leaving raw, angry flesh curving upwards along his face, like a Joker’s smile.

  Greg stared at Lukas and gestured to him to open his mouth.

  ‘No, please no. Don’t gag me. I promise not to bite anyone.’

  ‘Shut up, will you? We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’

  Lukas thought, This man only speaks in common phrases. Nothing original ever comes from his lips. He opened his mouth for the gag and stared into the Gunslinger’s eyes as he tied the dirty cloth, and thought, I wish my fellow Corpses would eat you. Eat you and all the terrible people like you.

  ‘Heees nah go-een to do any-heen,’ Elliot tried to say, but his cracked and bleeding mouth, and dry, unused voice only allowed for a hoarse rasping of sounds.

  ‘Shut up, pervert, or I’ll gag you again too,’ Greg growled.

  Wow, Lukas thought, that’s exactly the way Ray speaks to Elliot. He looked over at his companion and nodded to thank him for speaking up on his behalf. Elliot was looking worse than ever: his skin was so sunburnt that it was mottled with raw pink patches, scabs and blisters.

  Hang in there, buddy, Lukas thought. We’re almost at the City.

  In fact, they were several hours away. Every corner, every road intersection seemed to have Deads on it, and the Gunslingers had had to fight them off, one by one. Ray cursed every Corpse he had to put down, and growled under his breath that he hated having to risk his life protecting low-life criminals. But it was impossible to out-run the Deads when they were dragging their captives behind them, and with their company reduced to three, their fighting abilities were stretched to the limit. And their horses were exhausted, one of them near dead from fatigue and noticeably lame.

  Elliot was deteriorating rapidly. It didn’t matter that they weren’t feeding Lukas much, but not giving Elliot enough to eat was like torturing him. They would be lucky if they got him to the City alive.

  Lukas narrowed his eyes and looked at Ray riding so arrogantly ahead of him. I hate these people, he thought. I’m going to get even with them. Somehow. I will punish them for what they’ve done to me, and to Elliot. This City they were heading for was terrible too. What kind of people would demand such punishment? What right did they have to inflict such pain on others?

  Lukas felt something new within him. It had been growing deep for a while, but now it had spread its thorny vines and poisonous fruit into his mind. It rocked him for a moment and he shivered. His vision narrowed slightly. He would have spat o
n the ground if it wasn’t for the gag in his mouth.

  Lukas couldn’t name this new emotion, but others in the future would name it when they wrote about it in the history books. It would be called the Rage that took the City down. This new emotion was dangerous, Lukas knew, but it was seductive and blinding. Helpless as he was now, he felt as if he had the power to change everything.

  MEMOIRS OF J. DING, 62 A. Z.

  MY BODY HAS been good to me, strong enough, without major illness, and has carried me throughout this life without complaint. But now it grows old. This is my greatest worry. Not for myself. No, I worry for my fellow man in this post-apocalyptic world, and for man’s ignorance of, and disregard for, technology. I’ve tried to impart knowledge the best I could, teaching science, mathematics and the basics of important concepts such as solar and wind technologies, but I fear it has been to little avail.

  Although the latter are not my specialty, by any means, I took it upon myself to learn enough about them to be able to teach my students the fundamentals of their working. It has not been enough. Sadly, the needs of day-to-day life for most people take precedence over the ramblings of an old man pointing at the sky and claiming it can make life easier. My students have seen electricity in my laboratory, but do not care to have it in their own homes. What a loss.

  There are, however, a few bright lights in the darkness — a precious few students who are listening and dreaming of the future. It brings me immense joy that they are learning the principles of science with eager minds and hoping to improve the future of humanity. But they are so young and I am so old. If only I had found an eager pupil earlier! My heart senses these students are still delicate, like small, carefully built flames on a windy plain. They have everything they need to burn beautifully, but still require careful tending, lest they extinguish prematurely.