Blue

by Brandy Wehinger

  Virgil spun the horse again and ran it through the gate, dismounting with a leap at the entrance to help get the barrier closed. He and Xavier threw themselves against its weight, and the door rolled in its track. Just as it clicked shut, the three Variants hit the bars with their full force.

  The heavy iron bars held true, and the monsters bounced back from the impact. But as fast as they hit the ground, they were rolling to get up and try the gate again. Xavier couldn’t believe how determined they were. They were nothing like the normal Deads. Virgil stood back a little and pulled out his crossbow, firing straight into the head of one of the Variants that was pressing itself wildly against the gate and clawing at the air. It slid down and hit the pavement with a thud. Xavier could have sworn that when the other two Variants saw this happen they looked at each other — and then turned and ran.

  ‘I suspect those two will be waiting for us when we try to leave here,’ Virgil said, and then he turned and started walking towards his horse.

  ‘Where are we?’ Xavier asked, following closely behind. The space they were in was largely empty, its concrete walls making it cold, bleak and eerily quiet after the chaos of the City streets. In the corner of the room a swarm of flies worked on the carcass of a large horse. It filled the room with a stench that was both sickly sweet and fungal.

  ‘This is the place we keep the horses when we come into the City. Owen reckons it was like a place he read about where people made drop-offs of valuables. We usually keep the horses here and then climb the rope ladders up into the City.’

  Xavier looked around at the shadowy room and began to shiver. The adrenaline that had surged in his veins, protecting him, was wearing off, allowing him to feel the extent of what had just happened. Mr Ding, his teacher and mentor, was gone. Xavier had failed in his promise to help protect him. Bob, Jessy’s greatest prize, was lost too. How was he going to tell her? And then came a worse fear. How would he get back to Tree Sanctuary without a horse? Xavier looked around him in horror.

  To calm and distract himself from his thoughts, Xavier helped Virgil walk his trembling horse in slow circles around the room, trying to cool it down. ‘Is she going to be all right?’ he asked.

  The Gunslinger dropped his head and avoided eye contact. Xavier had never seen any emotion in the man before. Virgil’s white-blond hair was matted with blood and dirt, his skin was streaked with sweat and spattered copper from the spray of his victims. He looked like a monster himself. Then Virgil reached up with his hand to wipe his face.

  ‘No, this little mare won’t make it,’ he said quietly. ‘We used her up.’

  Xavier looked at the exhausted horse, and took in its ragged breathing, its dull eyes. They’d killed her getting away from the Variants.

  The Gunslinger was gently stroking the mare’s neck and speaking softly to her. The little horse made an attempt at kneeling, and collapsed onto the pavement. Virgil sat next to her and put the mare’s head in his lap. The animal’s breathing was getting rougher and its mouth hung open. Pink foam bubbled from her nostrils and her large eyes were unfocused. Virgil closed his eyes and leaned over the mare’s head, cradling it like a baby. He sat with her like that until she died.

  Xavier walked to the far end of the room and burst into tears. He didn’t care if the Gunslinger saw him. He hated this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t an adventure to the City, it was a nightmare. Only it wasn’t a dream. This was real.

  Virgil stood up and walked over to a barrel in the corner of the room next to the gate. There was an old empty can beside it, which Virgil used to scoop water from the barrel.

  ‘Is it safe to drink?’ Xavier asked, still trying his best to keep panic at bay. ‘I’ve never been this thirsty.’

  ‘Yes, come and drink. The water here is replaced for just this purpose, and I’ve never known it to be foul.’

  Virgil and he drank cup after cup, then drew some water out to dampen their bandanas and wash some of the dirt and gore from their faces. Xavier peeled back his sweat-laden shirt and examined the wound on his shoulder, from his encounter with the Variant. It was just a small red split in the skin from the arrow Virgil had used to kill the monster. Xavier shook his head. Impossible as their circumstances were, he was lucky to still be alive.

  ‘Now what?’ Xavier asked.

  ‘Good question.’ Virgil stared gloomily at the bars of the gate. ‘Make some food? Sit down? That’s all I’ve got in me for today.’

  Xavier nodded. Yeah, that was all he had left in him, too.

  ROSE, Monday, 12 noon, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  THE JAIL HAD been made out of the top floor of an old brick school building. Only four storeys high, it must have been deemed unsafe for people to live in. Rose had never heard of anyone being kept there for long, so assumed it was more of a threat used by the City Leaders to keep the community from committing crimes.

  Two guards sat on the roof under the shade of a cloth pitched beside the hatch that led down into the building. Rose watched them from behind a large ventilation box set a short distance from the rope bridge that led down to the jail. A fat woman carrying a basket approached. Rose scuttled to the other side of the ventilation box and crouched as low as she could. The woman walked by, then stepped onto the rope ladder, where she swayed for a moment, trying to navigate the down-sloping bridge. Unbalanced by her basket, she lost her footing, and fell backwards. Laughing, she lay there on her back, legs splayed out, a loaf of bread on her chest.

  By then the guards had noticed what was going on, and one of them came rushing to her rescue. ‘My wife, oh my.’ He stood at the end of the bridge, gulping with laughter. ‘I don’t think this bridge will take both our weights.’

  This set them off giggling again. The woman twisted and turned, trying to get the loose contents of the basket back together and then to get herself up. At last she managed, and began carefully to retreat. ‘I’m not doing that again,’ she said. ‘You men come up here to have your lunch.’

  Rose froze. They were going to notice her now, surely. But somehow they didn’t. Laughing and eating, the three of them sat in the shade of a nearby building that blocked their view of the rope bridge to the jail. Rose seized her chance, scrambled down the ladder, and opened the hatch to the building’s interior without them noticing a thing.

  She found herself in a long hallway with what seemed to be four rooms coming off it. Each of them had a sturdy door with a key hanging next to it. She squinted into the darkness for any sign that might indicate which room was Elliot’s cell. There was nothing. Rose ran down the hall, looking through the tiny window of each door. At the last room, she saw a shadowy figure sitting up against the back wall.

  Excitement flooded through her as she grabbed the key and turned it in its lock. ‘Elliot!’ she cried, and ran forward to greet him.

  But she skidded to a stop when a strange voice answered, ‘No, it’s not Elliot. I’m Lukas, Elliot’s friend.’

  She peered into the dark. ‘Katie?’ she asked. But she knew from the person’s deep voice that this wasn’t a female.

  ‘No, I’m Lukas, Elliot’s friend. The Gunslingers couldn’t find Katie, so they took me instead. I’m a Blue, too.’

  Rose reeled backwards. Not Elliot, but a Blue, an Infected, a Dead? She was about to run from the room when the Blue spoke again.

  ‘You’re Rose?’ he asked.

  She paused and stood with her hand on the door handle.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Your brother is my friend,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s—’ Rose stammered. ‘Where is Elliot?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’re not keeping him in this building. But Rose, you have to get him free or he’s going to be executed.’

  The Blue’s voice was filled with emotion, and Rose felt tears running down her face. She choked out a weak, ‘I know. Father is allowing it to happen.’

  ‘Let me help you save him,’ Lukas said.

  Rose’s heart began to beat fa
ster. Could she trust this Blue? She couldn’t even see him properly in the darkness of the cell, and imagined a half-rotten creature with exposed sections of skeleton. She stepped back towards the doorway, hesitating. Every instinct told her to run, but she had to make the right decision — and quickly — because the guards would soon be finishing their meal. The Blue was an Infected and that was dangerous, but his voice sounded so sincere. Could a mindless Corpse express such emotion in its voice? No, it couldn’t. And what choice did she have? She had no idea where Elliot was being kept, and time was running out. Freeing the Blue might be the wrong decision, but it was a chance she would have to take.

  ‘All right,’ she said, and walked into the darkness. ‘How do I do it?’

  She was astonished at what she saw. The Blue looked normal. He was thin, oddly coloured and missing an arm, but he looked exactly like a human.

  ‘You’re a Blue?’ she asked.

  Lukas let out a gentle laugh. ‘Yeah, really scary,’ he said, and motioned with his head to his body, then the ropes around his feet and arm. ‘Seems a bit overdone, doesn’t it? Thank you for helping me.’

  Rose tried to untie the knots, but they were tightly done. Frustrated, she looked around the room and found nothing to help. A new wave of fear swept over her. She had found help and now she might ruin everything because she couldn’t undo a knot.

  ‘Maybe try the key?’ Lukas suggested.

  After a little struggle, and discovering she needed to use the end of the key as a lever, Rose managed to undo the knot holding Lukas’s arm to the wall. Then the two of them set to work unbinding his legs. Once he was free of the ropes and standing upright, the Blue looked even more human. He stretched his legs, bent forward to touch his knees and grimaced. Corpses didn’t feel pain or stiffness, Rose knew. A wave of relief came over her and she smiled at him in the darkness.

  ‘How are we going to rescue Elliot?’

  The Blue returned her smile. ‘I’ve got a plan. Let’s get out of here, hide you somewhere safe, and I’ll take care of the rest.’

  ‘I want to help,’ Rose offered, although she was exhausted and didn’t know how much she could actually do.

  ‘Of course. And you’re helping already. Such a wonderful sister to Elliot. The first thing we need to do is get out of here.’

  Rose motioned for him to follow her. They were out the hatch, up the rope bridge and on their way to her hang-out before the guards and the fat woman had finished the last of their meal.

  VIRGIL, Tuesday morning, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  THE LIGHT OF dawn slowly spread itself across the floor. The warming sun was welcome after the cold and miserable night. Virgil had given their one sleeping roll to Xavier and had made do with his dead mare’s small saddle blanket. Exhaustion had made sleep come easily, but he’d woken throughout the night, shivering and aching on the concrete floor.

  The air had changed during the night and now held the heavy promise of rain. Virgil looked out to the sky and saw low dark clouds starting to move over the City’s buildings. He hoped the storm would pass quickly. He needed the sunlight for his soul. The previous day’s losses were devastating; today he would have to think about them and work out what to do next.

  Just then, Xavier sat bolt upright with a gasp. He had obviously woken from a bad dream, and now he sat staring at the horrors of the day before: a dead horse, a Corpse slumped through the bars of the gate and spatters of blood across the concrete. Poor fellow, Virgil thought. He had coped valiantly till now, but he was still just a kid, and it was hard to watch him having to confront such misery.

  In fact, Virgil was not that much older than Xavier, only four years, but he felt old. He had spent too much time fighting, had lost too much, and felt the heaviness of his life on his shoulders. Virgil looked down at his sunburned, calloused hands and took a few deep breaths. He felt bad about losing the scientist, and hoped that he had died quickly and without fear. Then he looked back at the dead mare and exhaled slowly. She had been a true friend, a warrior, and he felt honoured to have ridden her. But Bob. Virgil felt a lump in his throat and worked hard to swallow it down. He thought of Jessy riding Bob fast over the desert, her long black hair whipping out behind her, her smile stretching from ear to ear. Jessy looking so happy and free on that big horse was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. How was he going to tell her Bob was gone?

  Xavier got up from the floor and walked over to the bars of the gate. ‘Virgil, have a look at this.’

  Virgil went to stand next to him and was shocked at what he saw. Instead of the usual three or four Deads ambling on the street outside, there were hordes of them. Quickly Virgil counted nearly forty Deads in front of their holding area alone. Most were skeletal Corpses, dry and emaciated, slowly shuffling along, though some were in better condition, able to walk quickly in their own shaky kind of way. The sheer number of them was overwhelming: an army of the Dead, marching towards some unknown destination. How could that be? Where were they coming from?

  ‘Is this normal?’ Xavier asked. ‘Where are they going?’

  There was no point in lying. ‘I don’t know, honestly. There’s not usually this many. Something’s going on.’

  ‘How do we get past them?’

  Virgil shook his head. ‘We don’t. We wait here and see what happens.’ He looked intently at Xavier then. ‘You and I are going to hole up here and survive.’

  Xavier sat down on the ground and ran his hands through his hair. He looked around at his surroundings and then back at Virgil. ‘I don’t really want to stay here, but it’s a death trap out there, I can see that. Let’s wait it out.’

  The Gunslinger sat next to the boy, and the two of them watched the constant train of Corpses outside. The rain started, first slowly, and then coming more forcefully. The sheets of water seemed to fill the spaces between the moving Corpses, unifying them with the storm, making the entire world beyond the concrete room seem like one entity.

  Xavier and Virgil did nothing more than sit quietly and watch the storm. No more heroics, no more sense of proving oneself — they were going to save themselves and just wait.

  LUKAS, Tuesday morning, autumn, 62 A. Z.

  ROSE HAD LED him to a secret place stocked with a couple of days’ worth of provisions. It was perfect for what Lukas had in mind. Rose could hide away here, and after everything was over he would come back and take her with him.

  It was going to be easier than he thought. It was almost as if the balance of right and wrong or the order of price and punishment had led the girl to him. Rose, the little sister of the only truthful and trustworthy human. Her presence showed how Fate was at work, giving Lukas the means to carry out his plan. Both Elliot and Rose would be spared.

  The other humans knew nothing about his kind. The Infected acted out of necessity, killing to fill their bellies with nourishment. The humans acted out of greed and for the benefit of their egos. They said that the Infected were incapable of thinking, but it was the humans who were not thinking. They mindlessly followed directions, right or wrong. They were sheep.

  We, the Infected, he thought, are the lions.

  Lukas looked out the window of Rose’s hide-away and watched the people atop the buildings starting their day. He felt himself begin to salivate.

  I’ve changed, he thought. It was a nice feeling.

  During his time walking in the desert, he had discovered something unexpected and amazing. Step after monotonous step, day after day stumbling behind a horse, Lukas had felt an anger so strong that it seemed to fill him up with its darkness. Instead of deflecting it, turning his mind elsewhere, he embraced it and let the rage run through him so that he could taste its poison in his mouth. He had stared at Ray and imagined ripping the flesh from his throat and drinking from the cables of veins that ran up his thick neck. Then he imagined pulling Maria from her saddle and smashing her face against a rock, both to rid this world of a ruthless Gunslinger and to free her from the putrid life she spent cow
ering at Ray’s feet. Lukas knew these thoughts were unnatural and perverse, but he indulged himself anyway. He let the darkness shadow him and his hate consume him.

  Only when Lukas had begun to embrace the monster within him did he discover his new ability, a gift from whatever Fates ruled this world. He began to hear the Corpses, the other Infected, speak to him. They had a voice! They had thoughts! They were not just blighted humans, but sentient creatures in their own right. Lukas knew he now had the answer: the Infected had the right to dominate the world.

  It was casting off his humanity and embracing his true self that allowed Lukas to really see and hear. He had nothing to fear. It was they who needed to fear. This was the world of the Corpses now, not the humans.

  The first time he’d spoken to one of his brothers was during a day when the sun’s heat was relentless and the Gunslingers had stopped briefly in the shade of a magnificently twisted tree. They didn’t see the Corpse sitting beside it. It was weathered, sunbaked and unmoving, and its skin had taken on the colour of the earth around it. Lukas saw how it had appraised the meat on the Gunslingers, deciding whether to bother with them. He had looked into its milky, thickened eyes, and it had acknowledged him.

  Do you hear me? Lukas stared steadily at the Corpse.

  Yes.

  Don’t try to get these humans, they are dangerous.

  Okay, thank you.

  After that, Lukas had gone from strength to strength. Moving against his once-sad lot in life, he found power. Where his arm was missing was an ability that clawed at truth and righteousness. Where the Infection stopped his breath, he found an amazing scream rising from its deepest, most primordial source.

  Come, come, eat, he called to his brothers and sisters.

  His body felt stronger now than when he was a human — no longer needing to be fed and watered, no longer ageing. The Infection had become an incredible gift. Lukas had even found that he had grown accustomed to his missing arm, and he’d been testing his abilities whenever he could. He had adapted almost completely now and in doing so learned to use his entire body for the balance and agility he had lacked. Now, he was as nimble and athletic as he ever had been as a human.