by D. S. Murphy
“In a foreign kingdom that treats humans like wine boxes?” Penelope asked with a shudder. I knew she’d never agree to that.
“We’ll do our best,” I promised.
Tobias kissed Penelope goodbye, ignoring the dried blood on her chin and neck. He took off his long, tailored jacket, and lifted it over her shoulders, folding it tight around the thin, bloody nightgown.
Then he unbuckled his sword belt and strapped it around her waist, cinching it tight.
“You’ll need it more than me,” he said when she tried to protest.
“I haven’t used a sword in years,” she said softly. “Not since I was a girl, and you chose me from that stage.”
“The training will come back to you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You’re stronger now, and twice as beautiful. Stay alive. I’ll see you in three days.”
We headed up the deserted street, sticking to patches of thick grass and piles of rubble to leave less of a footstep trail in the smooth layer of ash.
I actually felt better having Penelope with us, though I knew Trevor and Luke didn’t share my sentiment. Depending on an elite to protect them went against everything they believed.
When I thought of Penelope, I remembered us sipping coffees together in the citadel, relaxing under the clean air and open, filtered skies, with clean clothes and few worries. She’d told me once I needed to find a philanthropic cause to keep myself busy. That all seemed like a lifetime ago. But I also had another vision of her; fighting the king’s guards beneath my window, wielding dual pistols. I knew she could fight. And she’d be three times faster now that she was an elite.
I pulled my mask tighter around my face, my mouth and nose already warm and stuffy. I hated the way it amplified my breathing, drowning out ambient sounds. Though it protected my lungs from the ash, there were worse things to face in the wilds. Even though we were never supposed to leave the compounds, old men in Algrave would share horrific stories about the remains of human settlements, and the monsters that hid in the shadows of the derelict buildings.
The light on the horizon silhouetted the broken concrete and leaning houses, crumbling beneath ash so thick it had condensed into a layer of corrosive concrete, oozing down through the structures before hardening into a thick paste. It gave everything a warped, curving appearance like the whole town was melting.
“Do you hear that?” April said suddenly, slowing her steps.
“Hear what?” Luke asked.
“Whispers,” Jazmine said. “Like voices, I hear them too.”
“Keep your eyes out for the missing children,” I said.
“They’re long dead,” Camina replied. “Nobody could survive out here so long, by themselves.”
“Maybe they just got stuck or trapped.”
“All of them?” Trevor asked.
“We made the mayor a promise,” I said. “We have to at least look.”
“Now I know why they call it the lurks,” April said. “Feels like we’re being watched.”
I rubbed my arms through the thick leather of my jacket. It did feel like that, though I couldn’t hear any voices.
Probably just a slagpaw den. I held my breath, listening to the wind in the trees and the soft sizzle of falling embers.
Movement rustled up ahead, and I froze, pulling out the curved sword, but it was just an old bobcat, lean and tough, with gnarled ears and long whiskers. It froze, watching us with detached yellow eyes, before scampering down an alley.
This town wasn’t as big as the city where Havoc was hidden, but some of the buildings were larger; giant stone blocks that held dozens of living apartments. We turned at the gas station, entering another area of town. The oak trees of the park had grown so large they pushed into the houses around the edge, their gnarled limbs tearing through broken windows.
Through the trees, I could see a playground, stripped of paint, its steel bars shrouded in ferns and vines. It was dark under the canopy of branches, and I strained to see up ahead into the black void. A spark of light caught my attention. Some sort of firefly, buzzing in the thick grass, drew my attention to the stately-looking house set back away from the park.
It had a wide open porch, with a swinging bench hanging crookedly from one rusted chain. More fireflies lit up as we approached, filling the air with a gentle buzz that felt almost like a physical pressure.
“That’s the one,” I said, pointing at the mailbox. The wooden post had disintegrated, probably burnt through at one point, but I kicked over the rusted mailbox on the ground to see the number.
The rotten wood groaned beneath his weight as Trevor climbed up the stairs carefully. He’d nearly reached the porch when light flooded through the windows.
I gasped at the sudden change, shielding my eyes against the blinding light.
“Get down!” I whispered, pulling Trevor backwards and hiding in the thick grass beneath the porch. The others scattered behind the skeletal remains of the large rhododendron bushes lining the street.
“Do you hear that?” April asked, breathlessly. We froze, hovering as still as possible. I held my breath to silence my mask and then I heard it. The faint strains of music.
With the lights on, I could see that the house – though still old and in need of repair – was in much better shape than the rotting remains of the collapsed structures around it.
“Someone can’t be living here, can they?” Jazmine asked.
“Out in the open like this?” Luke said, “with their lights on at night, a beacon for prowlers? If they are, they’re insane.”
“So what should we do now?” Camina asked. A sharp gust of icy wind sent a shiver down the nape of my neck.
“Now,” I said, stepping forward, “we knock.”
21
I rapped my knuckles against the door, which looked freshly painted. I heard the lock unclick and the door swung open, but nobody was there. Just a clean and well lit hallway. I’d never been in a house like this before. It wasn’t the gilded luxury of the citadel, nor the cozy, organic houses of Algrave. I’d visited a few houses from the Before; mostly ruins, half eaten by the plants and the elements.
My muddy boots hovered over the shaggy carpet of the foyer. To the left was a living room, with a long leather couch and big windows. They weren’t even boarded up. Tasteful paintings lined the walls, their hues almost eerily matching the flower arrangement on the shelf. I could tell by their scent that they were fresh. A small tree stood in the corner, wrapped in a strand of soft white lights.
“Well come in or stay out, don’t just stand there letting the ash in.” A voice called from down the hall. I approached cautiously, the music getting louder as I stepped forward down the long corridor, passing a grandfather clock that ticked softly.
“Am I dreaming?” April whispered, sticking close behind me. The kitchen was even brighter; but not the clinical, fluorescent lights I was used to. These were somehow warm and natural. A woman had her back to us at the counter, holding a knife and slicing up tomatoes.
“It’s rude to stare,” she said without looking up. “Take a seat, dinner will be ready in a minute.”
She nodded into the dining room next to the kitchen. A table was already set with plates and silverware that gleamed in the candlelight. My mouth watered from the scents. Apple pie, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.
None of us moved to sit. It was all too surreal.
“Who are you?” Trevor asked, gripping his weapons tightly as we crowded together near the entrance.
“Forgive my manners,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and turning to face us for the first time with a bright smile.
“Rebecca Hartmann,” she said, “but you can call me Becky.”
The air was pulled out of my lungs, like I’d been punched. Somehow I knew she wasn’t lying. Something about her eyes, the way she tilted her neck, reminded me too much of Damien.
Somehow, his mother was still ali
ve. She’d been alive the whole time. Had they buried her body too early? Had the elixir worked its magic slowly, and she’d had to claw her way out of the grave?
“Now, why don’t you pour yourself some wine, and we can talk about what you’re doing here. I don’t often get guests, and certainly no one like yourselves. It is so difficult to find a stimulating conversation, or news from the outside.”
Luke ignored the wine bottle on the table and reached into a cabinet for a bottle of rum. He poured a glass for himself and handed one for Trevor. He shook his head at the bucket of ice cubes, before using the metal tongs to add several to his glass.
My head was still spinning. I couldn’t think of anything else to say so I sat at the table, my knees buckling beneath me. The others joined me and soon our host sat as well, after setting down a plate of crackers, olives and feta cheese.
She was wearing a casual black blouse and dark jeans, which made her look young despite her age. She looked around 40, but I knew she must easily be a century and a half old. She was elite, like Damien and his father. She had to be.
“How is this possible?” I asked finally. I was afraid to reveal too much about who we were or what we were after. I didn’t know if she’d help us, or get in our way.
She shook her dark, tangled curls and tapped a long finger against her wine glass. Her nails were painted a bright pink, a custom that was relatively common in the citadel, yet rare in the compounds.
“This house I mean,” I said. “Out here, all alone.”
“I prefer my solitude,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. My eyelids were starting to feel heavy and I blinked them open.
“You’re a brave little band of adventurers aren’t you? Wandering these twisted streets alone. It’s a good thing you saw my lights and decided to stop for some comfort and shelter. After all, it is dark and cold tonight, and the night can be unforgiving.”
Looking down, I saw that my plate was half empty.
Had I already eaten so much?
“Forgive me,” she said, with a light trill of laughter. “I’ve kept you up too late with all my questions. You’ll stay the night, of course. I assure you, as long as you stay with me, you should have nothing to fear.”
I looked at the others through heavy eyelids, and nobody objected. It wasn’t like we had any better offers.
Mrs. Hartmann took a candle and led the way upstairs, into a small, clean bedroom. In the upstairs hallway I lingered over framed photographs. Damien, Richard and her, on holiday. Smiling, happy. The clear, sunny sky behind them. A boat beneath palm trees.
“You have a lovely family,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. There was a hesitant sadness on her face, like she was trying to remember something, but she just gestured into the spare room.
“Sleep as long as you like,” she said. “We’ll talk again in the morning.”
I lay down on the soft mattress, the cool sheets like heaven against my skin, and soon sank into a deep relaxation, lured to sleep by the soft ticking of the clock downstairs.
In my dreams I ran through the woods, chased by slagpaw. One of them towered over me, I flinched as it swept me up in its shaggy arms, which became a cloud of ash, swirling so thick I couldn’t breathe, lifting me into the sky before letting me plummet back down into suffocating depths.
When I woke again it was light outside. I lay still, steadying my heartbeat and trying to find my bearings. In the small room, it was almost possible to believe I was in the Before, getting ready to go to school, playing sports outside, without worrying about the monsters and poisons that haunted my dreams. But that illusion faded as soon as I lifted the shutters and peered outside. The dark clouds and heavy gray ash bloated out the horizon; all I could see were a few blocks of ruined, overgrown houses.
I went downstairs to find Trevor sprawled out on the sofa and Luke on a blow up mattress across the room. April and Jazmine were in the kitchen, putting together a jigsaw puzzle of kittens.
“Sleep well?” Jazmine asked.
“There’s food in the kitchen,” April nodded, putting a piece in place.
My eyes widened at the spread. Apple slices, cereal and fresh milk, which was rarer than honey and far more expensive. Jazmine shrugged.
Mrs. Hartmann came downstairs, wearing silk pajamas and a flowing robe.
I kicked Trevor and he got up suddenly, displacing the quilt that had been covering his bare torso.
“Put some clothes on,” I whispered. “We’re guests here.”
Mrs. Hartmann poured herself some coffee and settled into a large chair by the wood stove in the corner.
“Now,” she said finally. “That you’ve rested, you can tell me what you’re doing way out here.”
“How much do you know about, what’s going on out there? The citadel, the compounds... the elite?”
“Bits and pieces,” she said, waving her hand. “Zombie apocalypse and all that.”
“Well the thing is,” I said, “we know your husband was a scientist. We think he was working on something that could fix all of this. Did he have a lab, or some research, somewhere in the house?”
“You’re free to look around,” she said. “Honestly I never understood most of my husband’s work.”
She showed the way to his office, a wide oak desk by the window, with a computer terminal like I’d seen in the citadel. A green fern sprouted in front of the built-in bookcase.
I cursed, looking at the machine. Of course his research would be on one of these. I had no idea how to access the files or information.
“They’ve got these all over the old city,” April said, taking a seat behind the desk. “I know the basics.” She showed me how to move the cursor on the screen, click the mouse and type in a keyword to search.
“Maybe it’s best if you do it,” I said, turning towards the bookshelf and file cabinet.
I got lost in medical research articles and other scientific text, barely understanding any of it but hoping for something useful. Then I got distracted with travel magazines for awhile.
By the time I looked up again, Trevor was at the door holding some sandwiches.
“Yeah,” I said, “in a minute. Did you know they used to fly all over the world, for just a week, to eat different foods and tan their skins?” But he was already gone down the empty hallway.
I spent all day looking through the office bookshelves. I didn’t notice it was night until Trevor came in with a candle and sat down beside me.
“It’s time to get some sleep Em,” he said.
“Why, what time is it?” I asked, glancing outside. When had it gotten dark? The table had been cleared, and a plate of chicken, vegetables and some cold pizza was on the counter.
“I missed dinner?” I asked. “Or lunch?”
“Something is weird about this place,” Trevor said. “I felt so tired earlier, I took a nap. And I’m not the only one.” He nodded at Luke, asleep on his cot, with his mouth open.
“That’s probably normal after all the food she’s been giving us.”
“Yeah but where does it all come from? Bread, butter? I don’t think the local farms deliver fresh produce. Plus, isn’t she elite? Why does she even have any food, if she lives by herself?”
“We’ll leave soon,” I said, placing a slip of paper between the pages and closing my book shut. I ran my finger along the leather binding. “But it’s not like we’re in a rush. Our current plan is to find something that helps April finish the cure, then maybe meet up with Jacob again before we try to sterilize King Richard and take his head. Or something like that, right? Without the cure, all we’ve got is a few thousand displaced Havocs with a literal axe to grind. They’ll attack the compounds to put pressure on the citadel. Attack blood supply chain, blow up the factories, so to speak.”
“Keep your voice down,” Trevor whispered. “She’s an elite remember? You really think she’ll be okay with us looking for an antidote
to immortality – that will effectively kill her, or at least allow humans to wipe out her kind?”
“Fair point,” I frowned. I felt bad for lying about who we were or what we were searching for. But we didn’t have a choice.
“It’s either this or war. Every person in the citadel, every human in the compounds, would be slaughtered, and then the elite would slowly starve themselves to death. It’ll be history repeating itself. It would be the end of everything.”
“Or the start of something new,” Trevor said. “Something better. Plus, you heard Tobias. They didn’t know what they were fighting, what they were dealing with. They didn’t want believe it.”
“And?” I pushed away from him. “You really think you can do better?”
“It’s worth a try,” he frowned.
“Not if it means destroying the compounds we grew up in, along with everyone inside.”
After he left, I picked at the plate next to me, but I wasn’t feeling hungry. I’d only made it through a third of the books on the shelves, but I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I took anything sciency to April, who was sitting at the desk, illuminated by the glowing monitor, absorbed in scrolling text.
“The others are sleeping?” I asked, glancing upstairs.
“Yeah,” she said, pulling off her large earphones. “Like you should be.”
“Alright, fine,” I said, yawning.
I squeezed her shoulder and headed upstairs towards my room. I’m not sure how long I lay under the soft blankets before a heavy exhaustion fell over me. In my dreams, someone beckoned from the darkness, with slender white fingers and dark red lips that curled up in a seductive smile. I followed her down an endless hallway with hundreds of locked doors. We paused in the shadows and she whispered something into my ear.
I woke up suddenly, my heart pounding in my chest and my shirt damp with sweat. It was still dark out, but I couldn’t get back to sleep again. I decided to sneak downstairs and find a book I could read in bed. The stairs creaked as I stepped lightly down them in my pajamas. I was almost to the office when I realized the front door was open. A soft light from the moon slashed across the floor, and falling ash drifted into the corridor.