by Sam Ryder
“It’s hard to explain the feeling. I was shaking. Soon, the two lumps grew into these big, beautiful horns. That explained the headaches.”
“And what about the sense of danger?” I asked. “Did something happen at the market?”
She looked down at the ground as she talked. “They exposed three Enders at the market the night before. A small group of men from the Rising dragged them into the middle of the marketplace and showed them off in front of the crowd. Two men and one woman. All of them were in the process of mutating. They wanted to humiliate them just for becoming Enders, something that could happen to anyone exposed to the nuclear radiation.
“From what someone told me, they beat them repeatedly. Bruised them. Bloodied them. The mob grew and cheered them on. The cheers spurred them to keep going. After about an hour, the Enders were completely unrecognizable. None of them survived.”
Shit.
I knew these sorts of beatings happened. Unlike others, I took no joy in them.
“Did the Enders do anything to them?” I asked. “Why would they beat them to death for no reason?” I already knew the answer.
Gehn shook her head. “They killed them just for being Enders.” She raised her voice, growing angrier with each word. “And it’s not like you can choose to be an Ender. I didn’t choose these damn horns! Neither did my mother! One day, we were part of the Rising. We were safe. We lived in relative peace. Then, for some reason, we mutated. I don’t know why or how, it just... happened.”
“But not Hannah.”
“No, not her. Which is unusual. Typically entire families are affected. Something to do with genetics, I guess. It’s not like we have a lab with a bunch of scientists available for us to study it. We’re all at the mercy of the wasteland.”
I knew what it meant. It meant Hannah may turn into an Ender at time. I didn’t voice that thought because she already knew it. It was probably one of many reasons she defended her sister so staunchly—she would become an Ender one day too.
We kept on walking in silence. I didn’t know how to respond. A few minutes prior, I was a little apprehensive about this Ender at my side. Now? I wanted to be her advocate, at last as long as I was in their employ.
“We had to leave Rome,” she eventually continued. “Hiding horns? That’s the easy part. As a female, the horns are the only visible effect of the mutation. We can wear hats and lie low. But for men, it’s completely different. Have you seen a male Ender?”
I nodded. Male Enders were brutal to look at. They were almost ogres. Their features were exaggerated. Huge, bulbous noses. Olive green skin. Chests swelled up to the size of barrels. Big, lumbering oxen. I didn’t know much about them, but they looked like hell. And if one got angry, they could snap a man like a twig with one arm—Hulk smash!
“Male Enders can’t hide,” Gehn said. “They attract way too much attention. You can’t throw a hat on and hide a green face or a mutated body. So the men have to run away. But if anyone sees a mutated man, they know the rest of the family is mutated as well.”
I wondered again about their father, and whether they had any brothers.
Hannah—who had been following behind us, content to listen—stepped forward and put her hand on Gehn’s shoulder as we all stopped for a breather.
“Sometimes, the men get away,” Gehn said. “They abandon their families just to save them from the violence. There are handfuls of female Enders hidden away among the Rising.”
I never thought of that. How many times had I come across a woman that might have been an Ender in hiding?
“How many men are in your family?” I finally asked, curiosity gnawing at me.
“Just my father. It’s me, Hannah, my father and my mother. Well, it was my mother.”
“Did he get away?”
Gehn broke eye contact, staring across the horizon. Tears welled up in her eyes. I already knew the answer.
“We were the only survivors,” Hannah confirmed.
Christ. These poor women.
I didn’t have a family anymore. Since the Blast, I’d never wanted to try to replace what I’d lost. But I knew what she was going through. The pain of losing a family hurt like hell.
Gehn swallowed hard. “We spent weeks laying low,” she said. “None of us went out much. We only had to hide my dad, so the women could go out to the market and get food or whatever. Hannah helped a ton, too, though we always feared she’d eventually turn. But as long as my mother and I stayed out of the public eye and hid our horns, we were safe. One day, I woke up with a sick feeling in my stomach. My sense of danger was in overdrive. It terrified me. We were all home and safe, like we always were. But I couldn’t shake it.
“We should’ve left, but we didn’t. Hannah and I went to the market like usual.”
“Why not?” I asked. “If there’s safety somewhere else, why not go? Geneva isn’t too bad. And Paris is a haven for Enders. Why stay in Rome if you were risking getting killed?”
Gehn threw her hands up. “The Blast took everyone’s homes. That changed everyone’s reality that day. It stole everything that we loved—and many of the people we loved—from us. My family worked hard to build our lives again. We had friends in Rome. It was familiar to us. It was home. Why should we leave that just because we changed? It was out of our control.”
She sighed, and I could tell this wasn’t an argument with me so much as one with herself, one I suspected she’d had often. “I know that we should’ve left. I wanted to leave. But I also understood why my family didn’t want to go. So I tried to move around Rome a little. I thought maybe it was just our house—if we could relocate within the town, we’d be okay and my sense of danger would subside. It kept getting stronger, though.”
Gehn took a few steps and turned her back on me. I couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but she was having a hard time talking. Her voice cracked and wavered.
“I still don’t know how or why they suspected my mother was an Ender, nor why they chose that moment to come for her.”
This pissed me off. If what she was saying was true, then these bastards weren’t just trying to protect themselves. They were hunting down innocent Enders. That didn’t sit well with me. It’s not your problem, I reminded myself. At least, it wasn’t before, but now I was getting paid for it to be my problem.
Gehn cleared her throat and started moving again. We followed at her side without saying a word until she broke the silence, composing herself.
“That sense of danger I have gets stronger, depending on where we are,” she said. “When we were in that bar, it was going haywire. Now, not so much. But that dread doesn’t go away anymore. There is a storm brewing between the Enders and the Rising. My dream gives me hope that there is an alternative to the way we live life in the Ends. That’s why it was so important to find you.
“I owed it to my family to at least try to make this a reality.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t the man for the job.
Chapter 8
Nightfall
The sun was setting, and the temperature dropped. We needed to set up camp for the evening.
Geneva was still a ways off, so we wouldn’t reach the city tonight, our progress slower than expected due to the gravity of our conversations, which seemed to make every step forward an effort.
We’d have to sleep outside for at least one more night.
Sleeping without real shelter in the Ends was a mixed bag. Nobody quite knew everything that was out here. We expected a few animals, but this new society focused on survival, not study. Nobody observed animal life for scientific purposes. If we wanted to survive, we needed to know what we could eat and what could kill us—that’s it.
Besides that, the weather was much better than the previous night. The lack of clouds meant it would likely get cold, but nothing that a good fire wouldn’t fix.
I found a small patch of ground with a felled log lying on its side next to an open area. Trees destroyed from th
e Blast overloaded the wasteland. The terrain was rough because they were everywhere. But it had its advantages, particularly when you wanted to build a fire.
None of us were interested in moving a bunch of logs to form a clearing, so this spot was perfect. The log provided easy seating, and we could set up shop quickly.
The women agreed, and they set to work. Hannah pulled out the blankets and worked on building us a sleeping area. Gehn collected sticks and chunks of wood to make a fire.
“Anyone hungry?” I asked.
“Famished,” Hannah said. “The sooner we eat, the better.”
I agreed. Chuck was whining. He needed to eat, too. I told him to wait with the ladies. Sometimes he was a little too eager to hunt, and he scared off animals before I could shoot them.
The sky was turning a beautiful purple hue from the sunset. That little bit of dusk always helped me hunt, providing natural cover. I jogged off to the west, putting some distance between us so that I could lure a critter over and shoot it.
Another big log provided ample disguise, and I waited. The wastelands had a lot of little animals safe to eat, but they scattered away whenever they saw you coming. Hiding lured them out eventually. It required patience, but I had no place to be.
I slipped Alpha out of her holster and pulled back the hammer. A hunting rifle would be better, but I’d had more than enough practice with my six-shooter. After some time had passed and night had cast its dark blanket over the wasteland, a scraping noise jolted me from my boredom.
I peered out from behind the log. The source of the noise came into view. A tetroyote.
The tetroyote was a medium-sized mammal, shaped like a small fox. But its head and tail resembled what we used to call “raccoons”. I hadn’t seen a tetroyote in a while, and I was excited. Their meat was salty and delicious.
This critter was big enough to feed all three of us.
The problem with hunting in the wasteland is that you have one shot. Pull the trigger and miss, and you’ll have to start over again as anything in the vicinity scattered. That’s why Chuck had to hang back. One bark and our dinner would be gone. I’m a patient man, but I didn’t want to do this all night. My stomach was rumbling.
I held my breath to stay still and quiet. The tetroyote was digging at the ground. Probably trying to scrounge up a beetle to feast on.
Looking just over the top of Alpha, I aimed the barrel right at the animal’s head and pulled the trigger. It was too close to miss, or at least I hoped.
The shot echoed through the wasteland in all directions. I leapt to my feet to see if I hit the target, or if he had scurried off.
To my delight, the tetroyote was lying on the ground, motionless. My shot almost blew off its head. A gruesome hit, but I needed to kill him and I didn’t want to mess around with contaminating the meat. A head shot provided that safety.
I holstered Alpha and gathered up the tetroyote by its legs. Off in the distance, the flames of a small fire blazed.
When I returned to the makeshift camp, Chuck wagged his tail wildly, sniffing the air as the scent of fresh meat assaulted his nostrils.
I admired the setup. Hannah had a resting area prepared, and Gehn had the fire roaring. The two of them rolled a large rock next to the light of the fire and someone had stuck a gutting knife tip first into the fire to sanitize it, ready for use.
“I’m impressed, ladies,” I said to them.
“You think this is our first rodeo?” Hannah said. “Ever since our mom…we’ve been surviving.”
“Alone? What about the Guild?” It was the first time I’d mentioned the fact that they, or at least Hannah, were members of the Wanderer’s Guild.
“Ask me another question about that and I’ll dock your pay,” Hannah said. Though she said it with a smile, I sensed she was only half-kidding.
“Suit yourself,” I said. I dropped the critter onto the rock, grabbed it by its feet and hung it upside down from a branch protruding on an odd angle from the felled tree. Then I slit its throat with the knife, just in case the headshot didn’t take care of enough blood. Immediately, it started to drain onto the ground.
“I’ll take it from here,” Gehn said. “I can do it quickly.” She took the knife from my hand. I didn’t argue, interested to see her handiwork. From my time in the service, I knew it was important to understood the skills of the men and women at your side.
Hannah was staring at the fire and I walked over to sit next to her. Chuck sat at my feet, and I rubbed his head, scratching him behind his ears.
“Nice work,” she said, nodding to the animal that Gehn was skinning.
“You too,” I said. “You obviously know what you’re doing.”
“The two of us have been traveling together for a few weeks now,” Hannah said. “Ever since Gehn had the dream. It’s routine at this point.”
I admired her in the firelight, and my gaze drifted down to her wrist—and the leather band wrapped around it.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“No,” she said, seeing where my gaze had landed. Then she sighed. “Fine, but I can’t promise to answer.”
It was a good enough invitation for me to take it. “What’s a First Tier doing out here with an Ender? I mean no disrespect or anything to your sister. She seems capable. It’s just... First Tiers aren’t usually out this way.”
She looked at me and smiled, but she didn’t say a word. I guess she wasn’t interested in answering.
The Wanderer’s Guild was an enigma to me. They weren’t part of the Rising nor did they dwell amongst the general Ender population. They separated themselves and yet seemed to have an agenda, sticking their noses here and there. It was hard to determine whether there was a method to their madness or if they just liked to stir the pot. One thing I did know: they organized their ranks based on Tiers. A leather strap on your wrist identified your Tier using metal studs. The number of studs indicated your assigned Tier.
They based where you were assigned on your perceived intelligence as well as experience. With no possessions left after the blast, knowledge became the most valuable currency. Those who proved they could think their way through a situation advanced through their ranks more swiftly. Which meant Hannah was smart as hell, though I’d already surmised that from our interactions.
Third Tiers were the grunts, given orders to carry out the messiest jobs that required little brainpower.
Second Tiers were the average folks. They weren’t stupid, but they weren’t geniuses, either. Nothing wrong with being a Second Tier.
Within the Guild, First Tiers were valued highly, the chosen few leaders to carry out whatever missions the top Guild lieutenants ordered. They were like VIPs of the Ends, and even the Rising was typically careful around them.
But brains only got you so far in our world. Living in the Ends meant kicking ass when needed. I respected folks who stood their ground and knew how to handle themselves. That meant a hell of a lot more to me than how many studs were on a bracelet. Still, if Hannah and Gehn had survived this long, they must have more than brains.
The first time I ran into a First Tier, their arrogance told me everything I needed to know. The guy thought he was above all the shit in the wasteland.
Nobody was above the shit. The shit was the wasteland.
It was weird. Even when a nuclear blast destroyed the world they lived in, people still wanted status. They still wanted respect. It cracked me up.
Hannah, so far, hadn’t come across as arrogant. That was good. Maybe she could change my perception of First Tiers. Or maybe she was the exception. Hell if I knew.
Seeing Hannah was a First Tier meant that her place in society was set. She had people to do things for her. She didn’t need to live off the land. First Tiers didn’t usually hunt.
There would be no reason for her to be slumming it out here in the wilderness with an Ender if not for this particular Ender being her sister. And yet here she was.
“Let me counter wit
h a different question,” she replied. “Why haven’t you joined the Guild? Given your skillset, I’m sure you’ve received offers. They would make you a First right off the bat, no questions asked.”
I scoffed at the idea, though she was right: I had received offers, though no amount of money would make me beholden to a group whose politics I didn’t understand. “The reason guys like me hang out in the outposts is that we don’t give two shits about the system. I don’t know what it is about the Guild that makes them constantly need to categorize people. But fuck that. I’m Cutter. That’s all anyone needs to know about me. I don’t need a bracelet. They want to know more, they can talk to me.”
She nodded. “I respect that.”
“You still didn’t answer my question.”
Hannah smirked again and stood up to help Gehn with the tetroyote.
They were clinical in their preparations, something I could respect. The critter was already skinned, and Gehn was slicing it up. She handed the chunks of meat to Hannah, who speared it onto skewers that they must’ve fashioned from tree branches while I was hunting. Then she laid the skewers over the coals of the fire.
“Are you sure you’re a First?” I joked to Hannah. She shot me a glare and then offered me the You’re-Number-One gesture with her middle finger. I chuckled.
Before long, the delicious smell of roasted meat hung savory in the air. Sitting there, watching the food cook, I wanted a drink. I wasn’t sure how well I would sleep without one.
After the four of us ate, we let the fire die down while we turned to our “sleeping quarters.” Chuck sidled up at my feet, curling himself into a ball. The dog could sleep anywhere.
Having Chuck at our side also helped us sleep, because he would quickly alert us to any approaching danger. He was a great guard dog, an invaluable resource to have out here.
Tomorrow, we would enter Geneva. It would be my first time walking into a city with an Ender by my side. And shit, I had a First Tier on the other side of me.
We would be a sight to see. I didn’t know that anyone would expect it, and I definitely didn’t know how they would react. Geneva saw plenty of mixed company, but none like this.