Obliteration

by Zoe Parker

  In all the killing we’ve done she’s never been faced with this decision and knows that going forward, this is her limit. She thinks I’ll chide her for it, or call her a pussy. I’ll do neither. I accept this about her, I’m not a fool. This is a piece of what makes her who she is and I rather like her that way.

  Someone calls out in warning from the camp.

  The adults, however, are still fair game.

  Bloody and breathing heavily, Iza digs out her phone with her eyes unerringly on the children in the bed of the truck. The little Schoth boy from before is telling them a story to keep them quiet, a task he’s familiar with and done many times before.

  “Harvard? Yeah, I need a favor…” As Iza talks quietly to Harvard, I can’t help but watch her. In her place, I can’t say that I’d have made the same choices. These children will grow up one day and potentially become those that bore them. The vipers that she’s willing to nurse and protect might very well turn and bite her. Then again, Ruthie is a Feyrie and she betrayed a woman who handed her heart out on a platter to the teenager.

  A woman who fought for her and would’ve died for her.

  My eyes drift to the children and the little boy—Rosic—is looking at Iza with something akin to hero worship. Perhaps they will have more respect for this sacrifice than others. Ruthie’s hardships turned her into a selfish, moody creature. These children’s hardships turned them into survivors.

  Only time will tell.

  “Okay, all done. We need to meet their transportation out on the main road. Harvard said he’ll have someone there in an hour or less,” she says, her eyes turning to me.

  “Are you going to tell anyone?”

  “Of course not, that would put them in as much danger as they were in with the Schoth,” she denies vehemently.

  “Our little secret then,” I tease, trying to dislodge those shadows that are circling in her eyes.

  “They will be in a place far away from all of it. Raised with love and safety and maybe they’ll grow up to be good people and be ready for this world.” Her concerns are greater than that. They will grow up and ultimately be faced with a world of people that hate them.

  Iza is thinking along the same lines as I am; the difference is she’s not so much worried about them being ready for the world, but the world being ready for them.

  7

  Several days later and nothing has changed. The camps are still busts. I was hoping to find a real one—or the Guide—to get this shit over with. Twice more I’ve sent Light Fey children into Harvard’s capable hands. In my time in the Schoth’s hands I can’t say I saw many of them with children, but the few I did see sometimes treated their own children worse than the slave they were toying with. And no matter what I tell myself, I can’t raise a hand to them; doesn’t matter if they’re Light Fey, or not.

  It’s frustrating. The human from the first day wasn’t wrong. These children will grow up one day and potentially be like their parents, but maybe—just maybe—giving them choices they wouldn’t normally have might change their paths. If nothing else they can discover what life has to offer besides pain and anger. It’s probably foolish of me to hope it’s possible, but regardless of how many times I try to stamp out that hope, a tiny flame of it remains.

  Someone needs to give them a chance, even if it’s their ‘enemy’.

  That’s not even what’s made my week shit. We’ve gone through two camps in the last three days, and still haven’t found anything useful. Soldiers aside, I was hoping to find some intel too. That’s a big nope as well. I know the others haven’t had any luck either, not that I actually expected them to. I sent them to the camps on the fringes, ones that were isolated from the others. I knew they’d be duds. Phobe and I came to the ones that cluster together—with that formation it made me think that the ones nearer to the center would yield something more than farmers, low grade mages and children.

  Tonight though, I need some sleep. My body is telling me that whether I lay down or not, it’s going to do it without me. While Phobe drives, I fight to stay awake as we drive through the gravel roads of the campground closest to us. Truth be told, I’m looking a bit forward to it. One night of calm in a constant storm, and I’m totally going to take it. This place has a river and the internet says there’s a chance of getting attacked by bears. That sounds like a good time to me. I’ve always wanted to see a bear up close and personal. It’s one of the few large predators this country has.

  The other is wolves and cougars, but I’ll save those for another time.

  When we pull into our camping spot, Phobe immediately starts unpacking the truck. Being lazy, I watch him walk back and forth with a sleepy interest. He’s nice to watch, I can’t help myself, even as tired as I am. When he stops next to the window of the truck and gives me the ‘look,’ I know it's time to pull my own weight.

  In a moment of total genius, I decide to start with the tent. When I unpack it, the first rain cloud appears in the previously cloudless sky. When it rains, it pours. An apt human cliche. It’s also proving true—in more ways than one. Staring down at the strewn out pieces of tent, I blow out a breath and consider setting it on fire. I was hoping it was one of those pop up gigs that you just shake a bit and then stake it down. I should’ve read the package before I bought it, that’s what I get for shopping based entirely on pictures.

  Digging out the instructions, I start the arduous process of putting it together. Every few minutes I look up, because Phobe is leaning against a tree watching me with this shit eating grin on his face—and an umbrella protecting him from the torrential rain. He knows damn well I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m determined to prove him wrong.

  At least, for the first hour of rain.

  Throwing down the instructions and the mangled mess of poles in my hands—I sit back on the soppy ground with a squelch, defeated.

  “Are you ready for help yet?” he asks in amusement at my expense.

  “You damn well know I am,” I grouch, once again contemplating setting the entire thing on fire and sleeping in the truck.

  Chuckling he comes to kneel beside me and within ten minutes the tent is put up and ready for me to put stuff in. Namely my wet self to dry off. Which I do happily. I bought everything that said ‘camping’ in its description. Some of it I’m not even sure what it does, but it looked cool, so I impulse bought it. Especially the portable shower, not that I’m going to use it right away—I want dry clothes first. I plan on washing off in the river, just so I can say I’ve done it.

  As I dig through our things for dry clothes and a snack, I start to chatter to Phobe. Eventually, it comes back around to the Schoth. “Did you notice the low numbers in the last two camps or am I imagining things?”

  Yanking off my wet clothes I set them near the door of the tent and pull on some sweats and an oversized tee. Phobe watches raptly through the entire ordeal, and then has the audacity to reach over and steal a piece of jerky that’s inches from my mouth. The rain has stopped but I’m not in any hurry to go anywhere. I’m amazed I’m still awake. Settling onto the super comfortable sleeping bag, I kick back and start eating my chips and jerky.

  Answering my question he says, “Yes, using the small amount of information I gleaned, the majority of them were taken to another location. The ones left behind weren’t told where or why and I’m guessing they did that because they don’t want anyone left behind to know—in case you show up.”

  My other sense tingles as I hear my dad say, “Camping? This looks like fun.” Genuinely happy to hear that voice, I climb out of the tent and run to him. Grabbing him in a tight hug, I pull back and look up at him with my arms still around his waist. He looks tired and there’s dirt and blood on his face, but he’s whole and that’s what matters.

  An hour ago, I had a part of someone’s intestine stuck on my pant leg.

  “Gods, it’s good to see you too. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long—this is the first chance I’ve had to leave for any le
ngth of time,” he says hugging me to him again.

  “What’s going on?” I ask pulling away to watch his face as he answers. He’s a good liar but I can catch him sometimes. Licking my thumb I wipe away the dirt on his cheek. He makes a face but tolerates my mothering him.

  “Someone is trying to break into my realm to get to the fates.” My eyebrow raises in question. The fates exist and live in the realm of the dead? “Yes, they do. Nosy bitches know that it's one of the safest places to be. Not only does it have its own natural defenses, it has me and the guardian spirits,” he grumbles. His eyes drift pass me to Phobe.

  This is the first time he’s seen the new version of him and I don’t miss his frown.

  “Death no longer has a tie to you, Phobe.” I ask him what that means and he says, “I don’t know, dove—first time I’ve ever seen it. Now then,” he turns towards the river that’s about fifteen feet from the camp. “Have you tried the fishing yet?”

  Apparently discussing Phobe’s sudden lack of a ‘tie to death’ isn’t high on the priority list, but I’ll let it go for now. I’m happy to have a visit from my dad, no matter how short it is.

  Dad didn’t stay long but for the most part he never can, especially when his realm is under threat. Bored, overtired and feeling a bit listless, I let my curiosity about the loud group of campers nearby get the best of me. Standing on the fringes of the shadows their large fire is throwing out, I watch them laugh and talk around the merrily glowing pit in the middle of their small camp. They seem so normal, finding their own moment of joy while their world is falling down around them.

  “Hey,” someone calls. “Yeah, you. Do you want a beer?”

  Gods, I was dumb enough to be seen.

  I shake my head and start to turn and walk away when they call out again. “You hungry?” Those are two of the most irresistible words I’ve ever heard. “We have some dinner leftovers and some edibles if you’re interested.” How very nice of them to offer. Walking into their camp I keep my distance from attempted handshakes and even an attempted hug—I’m willing to take their food, not exchange skin cells—and head straight for the one holding the food.

  He’s probably older than I am, with shaggy brown hair and piercings all over his face. The ones in his ears are exotic looking, turning the lobe into a big, round hole. I wonder if a quarter will fit through it? I discard the idea, I don’t want to offend the guy offering me free food. Looking down, my stomach rumbles because both of his hands are full of food. One is holding a plate with burgers and chips on it and the other is holding a large, plastic bag of brownies. I love brownies.

  Taking both with a thanks I sit own on an empty stump and wolf down the cheeseburgers first. They’re a little dry, but have a nice woodsy taste to them. They’re great compared to the prepackaged sandwich I have waiting on me in the tent.

  When I start on the brownies the guy says, “Might want to take it easy on those, they’re potent.”

  Potent food? This sounds lovely. “Do you want me to not eat them?” I ask, not wanting to be rude after they shared their food with me. Mostly. I don’t really want to give up the brownies though.

  “You don’t know what edibles are, do you?” he asks with a smile playing about his mouth.

  “Sure, you eat them.” Right? I don’t sense anything malicious from any of them, in fact they all seem exceedingly happy and relaxed.

  “Okay then, help yourself.” He’s laughing at me for some reason and I don’t know what it is. Shrugging, I quickly eat the entire bag. Relatively full and feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks, I sit for a moment and bask in the atmosphere.

  Phobe is watching me from somewhere and he too, is amused. I wish they’d let me in on the joke that everyone seems to get but me. There wasn't any poison in the food, I’d have smelled it. The only weird thing I detected was bits of green in the brownies but humans use a lot of spices in their food and I didn’t taste anything nasty in them. Phobe’s amusement grows and so does my irritation.

  Standing, I hand them back their empty bag and plate and thank them for sharing. They ask me to stay but I decline; they might be happy and relaxed, but they’re still human. And I’m not. Besides, the night air feels nice and I want to attempt to bathe myself in the river before I lay down, because when I do, I'll sleep a good ten hours or more. Now that I’m dry, my skin feels itchy and dirty. Waving, I head back to our camp to grab what I need to wash, humming to myself.

  Making my way to the edge of the river, I try to gauge which part won’t go above my waist. I don’t know how to swim and the idea of drowning after everything I’ve gone through strikes me as an awful way to die. Realizing eyeballing it isn’t going to work, I pick up a long branch from the brush on the shore and use it to poke around in the water. Just off shore I find a spot that goes about halfway up the branch. Satisfied that I shouldn’t die in water a couple of feet deep, I strip and climb in, holding my ziplock bag of bathing supplies.

  It’s at that point the high hits me.

  8

  There was a moment when I almost stopped her when she started eating the brownies. Her metabolism is fast, but eating that amount of food laced with marijuana will affect most creatures, including her. At this moment, she’s so high that everything is funny to her. She saw what she thought was a snake, named it and then tried to catch it. It was a small stick. A few minutes later she’s talking about how she can fly in the water and then almost drowns herself before she’s higher than her hips.

  Now she’s standing up to her waist in water, letting it sift through her fingers. She’s laughing about it like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen. As high as she is, it might be.

  “I’m pretty sure there were drugs in those brownies,” she says. Temporarily breaking out of her marathon of giggles.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I can taste the color purple,” she whispers and then goes into another fit of giggles. “I should probably get some of this to try in its pure form. This is the most relaxed I’ve been since we fucked in the shower.” She continues giggling and starts sifting water through her fingers again.

  The memories slam into me so hard they take my breath away. Like a movie, it plays behind my closed eyes, every delicious second of it. My eyes snap open to immediately fall upon her naked form. Until now, I’ve had glimpses of us being intimate but this—this is something else entirely.

  My foot is raised to take a step before I catch myself. No matter how much I want that with her, again, this isn’t the time. There’s been no invitation from her and she won’t welcome me without one. Iza doesn’t give away something like that casually, ever.

  Why do I feel like I’ve had that thought before?

  “I think the stars are sooooo beautiful. When we were in prison it was something that I missed the most, and I was in there so long I almost forgot what they looked like. Isn’t it pretty?” I look up without hesitation. Above us the stars are pinpricks of dancing light in the dark velvet of the night sky. Millions of them sparkle above us and it makes me realize that I’ve never done something so simple as look at the night sky and enjoy it.

  When I look back at her, its to discover that she’s propped herself up against a rock and is leaning back, staring at the sky with a wistful look on her face.

  “I wish I could float in the water but with my luck I’ll drown, and save the Schoth the trouble of killing me,” she says, and then chuckles.

  “I can teach you to swim if you like,” I offer, using it as an excuse to be close to her. She sits up so suddenly she slips off the rock she’s leaning on and instantly goes underwater. I’m wading in the water before I comprehend that I’ve moved. Her head breaks the surface and she laughs while wiping the water from her eyes.

  “Well, since I can actually drown in two feet of water, this is as good of a time as any.” She’s laughing as she talks and I don’t tell her that people have drowned in a bucket full before. At the Sidhe she could access the Magiks of
the land itself; here she is as much at the mercy of the elements as anyone. “You’re gonna get your clothes wet,” she teases.

  Holding her gaze, I pull my shirt off and toss it towards the shore. Her eyes widen and she absently licks her lips. A shiver runs through me. I like that she likes looking at me, and with the detailed memories of another time we were in the water together fresh in my mind...

  I really like it.

  “Okay, what do you want me to do?” she asks, standing and walking towards me.

  Oh, so many things Iza. Out loud I say, “First we teach you how to tread water.”

  Standing a few feet from her, watching her float in the water alone fills me with the same languid feeling that touching her gives me. My own simple taste of happiness isn’t a disappointment. Teaching Iza to swim, however, wasn’t as hard as I hoped. Selfishly, I wanted to keep her in my arms a little longer, but she insists on doing it on her own.

  Not that she’s quite accomplished it; my Magiks are holding her aloft.

  Spinning in lazy circles in the water, she’s telling me about the stars and the human legends of them. Considering she ate enough of those brownies to get that entire camp of humans stoned for the week, I can see why she’s so mellow and giggly. It’s continuing to be entertaining to say the least.

  “You know, I was just thinking—since you made my dad, does this mean you made me too?” Her eyes are closed but there’s a teasing smile on her face.

  “If you make a grandfather joke I might dunk you, Iza,” I tease back. She laughs and flings her arms out to rest on the water.

  “Do you know who made you?”

  “Since becoming aware, I’ve asked myself that question many times. Light, Darkness and Life are too specific to have been created by randomness. The abilities that all three of us have are unique to our specific branch of talents, as are the weaknesses.” I pause and continue, “As to who or what it is, I have no idea. I searched, and found nothing, but even I can't go everywhere. There are millions, if not billions of other realms. Too many for one person to travel alone.”