Rayne mulled over the strange events of the past two days. It seemed unlikely that the white-clad man was connected to the scarlet saucer, yet she found it hard to believe that two alien ships studied Earth’s demise. Also, why were they so interested in her? Were they doing this to other people too? At least the white-clad man had not seemed threatening.
The feeling that she was being watched stayed with her. She spent another night huddled beside the fire, but the next day the food and firewood ran out. When the fire died and her stomach rumbled, she knew she had to go back into the city. She could not rely on her brother returning. Rawn could be dead for all she knew, and to sit here hoping he would come back was sheer folly. Only the fittest survived in this cruel world, and she had to find food.
Quitting her warm nest took a great deal of willpower. She stuffed the blankets back into the hollow log and forced herself to her feet, grimaced and bit her lip to stifle her whimpers. Her first few steps were so excruciating she nearly returned to her camp, unable to face the long walk. She refused to lie there and starve, however, so she pressed on, ignoring the agony that shot up her legs at every stride. As she walked, her muscles loosened, allowing her to move a little more freely, but fresh blood dampened her leggings. She stumbled often, unable to hide the dangerous weakness that, if seen by a gang of drifters or another raider, might lead to disaster.
Rayne reached the outer city at midday, and limped between the dingy, tumbled-down buildings. Rats scampered, squeaking, from piles of refuse, and she hurried past an occasional corpse, mutilated, diseased or skeletal. Many vile stenches abused her nose, varying only in their strength and degree of foulness. Skinny, hollow-eyed people dodged into ruins at her approach, their eyes gleaming from the shadows as she passed. She rested in an empty building for a few minutes to regain some strength and ease her throbbing legs, the pain making her queasy.
As she was about to leave, Rayne froze at the faint sound of shuffling feet. The tread was too heavy for vagabonds, and it seemed to come from all around, including deeper within the building. She sniffed, detecting a revolting stench that had not been there moments before. Galvanised, she bolted, only to stop just outside the door.
About twenty mutants formed a semi-circle around her, shambling closer. Rayne glanced back as another filled the doorway. They stood over two metres tall, their arms reaching to their knees. Matted hair covered some, and slack lips revealed long yellow teeth. Others were more human, but grossly deformed, and wore only a few dirty rags. One had elephant-like ears and hands that looked more like clubs. Another had a single eye and nostril, while the mutant beside him had a dog-like muzzle and long canines. Some had almost normal faces, but half-animal bodies with claws, spines or scales. Most of them had cancerous growths and ulcers that oozed pus. Their stench made her bile rise, souring the lump of terror lodged in her throat. Greasy filth caked their hair and mottled their skin, spotted with dried gore and pus. A few even had mould growing on them.
They were genetic mutants, unfortunates who had been children or just conceived when the ozone layer had broken down. Most had died. These were the angry, suffering survivors, who killed for food and fun, their minds as twisted as their bodies. Their size and well-fed appearance came from their cannibalistic lifestyle, and she was to be the latest delicacy on their menu.
Rayne looked around for a weapon, but weapons of any sort were hard to come by, due to the demand for them. Desperate, she tugged at a reinforcing rod protruding from some rubble, but it was firmly lodged and all she did was scrape her raw palms on its rusty surface. The approaching mutants licked their lips, drooling in anticipation.
Rayne picked up a brick and hurled it at one, but it bounced off the creature’s forehead with no noticeable effect. Panic squeezed her heart in an icy grip as she searched for a way out, but the mutants were shoulder to shoulder, closing the circle. Her stomach threatened to hurl its meagre contents up her throat. Rancid breath, mixed with unwashed hairy bodies, urine and faeces, plus the decaying blood of past victims that clung to their fur, created a stench unrivalled in singular vileness.
Sobbing with hysterical panic, Rayne hurled brick after brick at the encroaching mutants, following each with a stream of useless abuse. Her aim was good, but the bricks bounced off the mutants’ thick skulls without making them blink. Some leered and growled; others quickened their steps and raised their arms.
A low-pitched hum shivered the air. A pillar of blue fire impaled the mutant in front of her, which exploded. Blood and guts splattered its companions, making them recoil. The blue fire burnt a molten spot in the ground before it cut off, then impaled another mutant. The powerful hum made her teeth ache, and intense heat scorched her as mutant after mutant died, impaled by the beam of light. She crouched and raised her arms to ward off the gore as an orgy of searing blue brilliance destroyed the mutants. Some died before they could make a sound, and none had time to even turn away.
When the last mutant was vaporised, the blue fire vanished, leaving charred, smoking spots that glowed. Shredded entrails coated the rubble, and chunks of cooked meat clung to the crumbling wall behind her. Rayne lowered her hands, poised to flee but afraid to move in case she attracted the attention of whoever had killed the mutants. She was fairly sure it had been a laser beam, invisible against the sky. Her mind raced as she struggled to make sense of it.
An alien ship had just tried to kill her, now some unknown benefactor had saved her, or were they just toying with her? Perhaps they enjoyed her fear, and now waited for her to flee before killing her, too. She glared at the sky, hating their power and elusiveness, determined not to give them the satisfaction of watching her run about in terror. Her bravado drained away, and she stumbled from the scorched circle to limp down the street as fast as she could, intent only on getting away.
Slave Empire - Prophecy Page 8