Judgement

by Eric A. Shelman

  “When I was a child, my father was already very old, but as with me, the years have accumulated slowly on him. My body has aged at a rate of approximately 1 year for every 3.8 years of life.”

  “You’ve thought about this a lot,” said Magi.

  “I have,” she said. “It is why we left the Henomawi tribe just two years later. People would notice when they began to age but we did not. It was not so obvious with my father, but as I was thirteen years old, just having entered puberty –”

  “Wait,” said Magi, leaning forward. “Was that intentional? Was he waiting for that for some reason?”

  “It was out of fatherly love, which is a bit foreign to me now,” she said. “He realized we would have to leave right away if I were not to become a woman. There were ceremonies associated with it, so as much as he did not wish to, he waited until I bled the first time.”

  Magi shifted, turning his eyes away from Tala in her moment of personal sharing.

  “Anyway, the ceremony is what opened my eyes to his power. He explained then, that what he was going to do would change me, making us the same.”

  “From what I can tell, you’re not the same,” said Magi. “You saved us. He tried to kill all my people.”

  “I knew your arrival would be the end of my time with him. I knew what he planned and saw the horror of its beginning. Worse, I know of his plans for the future. But let me finish telling you how I became what I am. You may judge whether or not to trust me then.”

  Magi Silver Bolt knew he already did trust the girl.

  “I was taken by my father to a cave. It is several miles north of the Henomawi reservation, along Rattlesnake Creek. He towed a small boat behind his truck, and just to the west of Swanson Canyon, where the road was unpaved and became too rocky and winding, he put the boat into the creek and parked the truck and trailer in a turnout.

  “We got in the boat and motored along the creek. It was often just a trickle, but at that time the dam at the Big Sage Reservoir had been opened. Father said it was the only time he could access the place he was taking me.”

  Magi bristled at her calling Qaletaqa father. It may have been true, but it made him question whether blood would be thicker than … well, than the black rain and all the devastation it had wreaked upon the world.

  She continued. “Once the creek grew too narrow and we could travel by boat no more, we hiked together for a full day, to a place hidden from the world; a crevice led into the earth, opening to an amazing, underground cavern.

  “There were symbols on the walls, but some were not merely symbols. I recognized the writing, as I could read Henomawi. It appeared to have been written long ago by people of many tribes, as it was a mixture of languages and pictures.

  “I asked my father who had created such a place. It was then he removed the tablet from his pouch and began to write down all he saw that he could understand. He even copied much of what he could not.”

  “From the walls?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We were there for two, three days. I do not remember exactly now. He said it was a place known only by the spiritual leaders of many different tribes. He explained to me by pointing out some language I understood that I could read, and others, he read to me in our native tongue.

  “From the beginning of our known history, the Mundunugus and other spiritual leaders, who go by many different names, would go to that place. They would bathe in the black pool at the bottom, believing it gave them everlasting life. It did not. If they were injured or sick, it would heal them, but it did not affect their life spans in any way.”

  Magi listened, knowing something important would be revealed. He was captivated by her voice and her beauty.

  “On the second or third day – I no longer remember which – he led me down a rocky ledge within the cave. It led sideways for a long distance, then dropped off. He showed me where to place my feet and where to hold on, and we climbed down perhaps thirty feet or more. At the bottom it was pitch dark. He lit a torch and we walked on a narrow, rock ledge until we entered another large cavern. He told me then that only he knew of that section of the cave.

  “In the center was a pool. It looked black, but I thought it was just because of the darkness within. When father scooped a handful of the water, it was black in his hand.”

  “The black rain? The same?” asked Magi, mesmerized.

  She nodded. “Yes. But inside this place, he held his torch high. The place was so high I could not see the ceiling, and the amazing markings on the wall told me he was not the first to find this place. There were images, symbols, so many things that still remain etched in my mind all these years later that I still do not understand.”

  “What happened? Why did he take you down there?”

  It was Tommy. He was wide-awake now, his eyes fixated on Tala.

  “Qaletaqa gave me the torch to hold and began reading from the book in which he had written the words from the cavern above. This went on for an hour or more. I was exhausted, holding that torch. That was all I remember until he had me stand in the pool.

  “He told me to remove my clothes and go and stand in the center of the water. I remember him telling me this, but I was thirteen years old; I was shy, embarrassed and scared, and did not understand what was happening. After two days traveling and more inside the dark, damp cave, I was exhausted and ready to be home.”

  “What did you do?” asked Tommy.

  “I did as he said. I turned away from him and took off my clothes. Then I eased myself down into the water. The bottom was smooth and firm, and I walked to the center of the pool and stood, my back to father and my arms crossed over my chest.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Magi.

  “I did not understand at the time, but it was merely a part of the ceremony. As I stood there, he began to chant from the words written in his tablet. As he spoke, and his voice rose and fell, echoing throughout the chamber, a mist began to form. The mist became actual clouds, moving and swirling overhead. The temperature dropped and I began to shiver, and I could feel every molecule of the airborne water touching my skin.

  “A great crack sounded from above me, and the room lit up as though daylight had found its way in. The clouds began to swirl above me, turning pitch black. When the rain began to fall, I was frightened. I turned to see my father, but all I saw was the flickering torch he held.”

  “How was it lit with the water falling down?” asked Tommy.

  “That is a part of the magic of this story, of this experience. The water only rained down on the pool itself. On me. It was contained within the boundaries of the water. It stopped as suddenly as it began, and he then told me to come out. I was tingling and I felt lightheaded, but that soon passed. From that time, I felt … calm. Strong. I cannot recall ever being afraid.”

  “You’re not afraid of your father?” asked Magi.

  “He loves me. I do not know when he set this plan in motion, but it had to be before he left the Henomawi reservation many years ago.”

  Magi straightened. “Did he leave … was that his tablet Angeni Dancing Rain found in her father’s home? Beneath the floorboards? The same one he wrote in that day?”

  “It can be no other.”

  “But … why did the black rain change everybody? Why did they become skinwalkers? You didn’t –”

  Magi stopped talking. He looked at her.

  “What is it, Chief Silver Bolt?” asked Tommy.

  “You did,” breathed Magi. “Just … differently. Just as they rot slowly, you age in the same way.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. “With the black rain came the skinwalkers. It was the first time I had seen them, and of course I was as frightened as everyone else. I believe some aspects of this were also unknown by Qaletaqa, as he allowed many of his people to be attacked by them.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  She smiled in the yellow glow of the fire. “To learn. His plans were obviously bigger. I understand now. He warned me
in advance of the rain. I did not know it at the time, but he sent a family to your reservation many years ago.”

  “Who?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “It is not important.”

  Magi stood and arched his back in a stretch. He then knelt beside Tala. “It is important to me. I am the chief of a tribe that now consists of only two. Please.”

  She sighed, and stared at the fire. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the son was a friend of yours.”

  Magi Silver Bolt took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. “Please, then. I must know.”

  “His name was Atian Shining Eyes.”

  Magi felt his legs weaken beneath him, and he toppled backward, his back striking the base of the sofa as he slid down to sit on the floor. Dumbfounded, staring at Tala, he muttered, “Atian? He was my best friend for years. He was the son of –”

  “I know who his parents were,” she said. “As I said, they were all sent by my father, long ago. When you were just a young boy.”

  Magi stared at her, all he had known blown to bits by this new information. He felt like a fool. Like his best friend had made one of him. “How long has this been in motion?” he asked.

  Tala now rose from her seat and moved in front of Magi Silver Bolt. She held out her hands and Magi took them. She pulled him up to stand before her.

  “I only knew pieces,” she said. “I did not know my father’s ultimate goal, or how he meant to achieve it. Atian’s parents reported to Qaletaqa for many years, but Atian eventually did as well.”

  “Did he know what your father planned? How he intended to infect the world with this undead plague?” Magi stared at her, incredulous. “I know Atian was a good person. We did everything together, and I can’t be such a bad judge of character.”

  “As it was with me, I truly believe that Atian only knew pieces. I’m sure he began to put things together for himself, but by then, it had to have been too late to warn you. After it began, I’m sure he could not find the courage to admit it to you. Do you know what became of him?”

  “Yes,” said Magi. “He became a skinwalker. He was bitten.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “There is more.”

  Now Magi dropped down into an overstuffed chair and stared blankly into the fire. “Go on,” he mumbled.

  “My father sent the men who killed Standing Rock.”

  Magi spun toward her. “Our chief? Why?”

  “It is what set all of this in motion. After his death, on orders from Qaletaqa, Atian convinced Angeni Dancing Rain – the chief’s daughter – to go through his home with the pretext of clearing it out and preserving his possessions. He led her to find the ancient text.”

  “I know who Angeni was,” Magi whispered. “She was my fiancée. She suffered tremendously before she died.”

  “I am sorry,” said Tala.

  “Giga Artleiste,” whispered Magi. “It was written on the cover of the book she found.”

  “Blood Revenge,” said Tala. “I watched my father write those words. I was a confused, frightened 13-year-old girl, but it is a moment I will never forget; the look in his eyes. It was when his plan was born.”

  Ω

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Near Rawlins, Wyoming

  Interstate 80 continued to turn in a more northerly direction, and Lilly said it was probably to skirt around a mountain range. As it was, we were surrounded by rolling hills, the mountains visible in the expansive distance.

  The morning was brisk and cold but clear. As we continued to the north-northwest, it got even colder.

  Rawlins wasn’t the largest town we’d encountered after Buford, but we did come up on it around 140 miles west of Buford, which was a good time for a pee break and a bite. It took us about three-and-a-half hours to drive it.

  There were lots of wrecked semi-rigs and other vehicles partially blocking the road as we made our way toward our destination, and we got out here and there to pick up stuff from the wreckage.

  Of course there were rotten humans scattered – some literally – on the roadway, too. The creatures able to walk were taken out with a quick double whistle through the radio and some pops from the .22 Henry rifles.

  I’m sure there was some form of competition going on, kinda like the old Slug-a-Bug driving game where when you saw a VW Beetle before anyone else, you got to punch your fellow participants. In this case, it was Pop-a-Rotter.

  Or maybe it was I Spy. I spy, with my little eye, a goddamned zombie. Whistle, whistle, pop, pop.

  It was comforting, really. Told me everyone was on their toes. I hadn’t seen all of them when we passed by, and we were only a car back from the front, with Micky and his crew leading for the time being.

  One wreck in particular provided us with a cache of Fritos and Cheetos. Flamin’-Hot, regular, you name it. I couldn’t resist when I saw that Frito-Lay truck on its side. I can tell you, I was not alone.

  “I miss Roxy and Terry,” said Georgina, as we finished topping off the tanks at a station that had plenty of fuel left in the underground tanks. We figured we’d make our next and final stop of the night in another 300 miles, which would take us into Corinne, Utah.

  Like the dog that chases a car, I was beginning to quietly consider what we’d do if we caught up with Wattana. I’m not exactly a threatening man, and while speaking with him couldn’t hurt – once we convinced whoever was protecting him that we knew he was alive – I had no idea what exactly we’d say.

  I’d have to talk it over with Micky. This was his plan, after all. I know we’d talked about it before, but in a post-apocalyptic world, shit tends to change hour-by-hour.

  After my mind spun around fifty different things, I answered Georgie’s lament.

  “Why don’t you scare her up on the ham?” I asked. “You had her for a few minutes last night, right?”

  “Briefly,” she said. “It was in and out, with the static making it too difficult to hear her.”

  Still, she took the radio, switched the frequency that they had agreed upon and called out to her daughter. Within five minutes she was able to speak with a person we’d met before: Bill Taylor.

  “Bill,” said Georgie. “Have you seen Roxy and Terry around?”

  “You mean your daughter and the gay kid?”

  I smiled, but saw Georgie bristle. “I’m not sure why that matters, but yes.”

  “It don’t matter that she’s your daughter?” he came back.

  “Never mind. Are they around?”

  “Nope. Had a horde comin’ in from the south, same path y’all took up here. Good sized one. Had a few other new folks join us, too, so they’ve got them in that obstacle house and out on the shootin’ range, runnin’ trainin’ drills.”

  “How far is the horde from Lebanon?”

  “They’re still sixty miles out or so,” said Taylor. “They’re shufflin’ along, too, some breakin’ off the main group and movin’ east or west, even back south, the way they came. Who knows how many of ‘em will be left by the time they get here? They were at least a thousand strong to start, but I’d say they’re about two-thirds of that now. They might’a been following a couple of these new kids. Two of them ain’t so smart.”

  Georgie turned to me, her finger off the button. “At least they’re preparing. God, I want to be there!”

  “She’s proven she can take care of herself pretty well, Georgie,” said Lilly, leaning over the seat, squeezing her shoulder.

  “I know. I just –”

  “Ken and Sarge got hold of some dynamite and some such stuff, so they’re gonna try some blastin’ to create some craters and barricades, slow ‘em down.”

  It was Bill Taylor over the ham again.

  Georgie hit the talk button. “Where did they find that? And did you say blasting?”

  “Newcomers drove past an ammunitions depot at some point. They got some cool stuff, including plastic explosives, a couple rocket launchers, and a few other
things. About the explosives, though – it was clear they’d use some of it along the way. Ken and Sarge saw all that gear coming into town with some idiots who didn’t know a thing about it. They confiscated it all. Bad part is, they think these two yahoos they took it from mighta drawn the horde closer.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “I don’t know shit about explosives, but I’m glad they do. I’m more worried about the noise those morons made leading up to Lebanon. If the guys got out there too late, once they start blasting, that horde could pick up speed and fewer of ‘em will break off. That 60 miles he mentioned will be cut in half and they’ll have well over a thousand to contend with.”

  Georgie reiterated the message to Bill, and afterward, he was quiet.

  “Did you read?” asked Georgie.

  “Uh, I got a bit of bad news on top of that,” said Bill Taylor. “That report was from yesterday morning. They’re out there now, but they radioed just a minute ago. They’re estimatin’ that horde is only 40 miles or so out now. Unfortunately, Ken and Sarge ain’t so sure they can make a difference now. Like you said, they didn’t get out there in time.”

  My mind jumped directly from our mission to what Lebanon would be facing with their best fighters off on a wild Indian chase.

  “Gimme that a sec, would you, please?” I said.

  Georgie passed me the handheld ham. I said, “Bill, send a group out there to find ‘em now. Pronto. Try to get ‘em on the radio, too. Whatever you do, stop ‘em from using the explosives. Tell everyone, no more weapons trainin’. Don’t fire off any more guns, definitely no explosives, and maintain as much silence as you can.”

  “I … I think they’ve already started,” stuttered Bill. “It was loud. We could feel the ground shake from here, and we could hear it.”

  What the hell kinds of explosives are they using? I asked myself.

  I squeezed the talk button, took a deep breath and spoke softly and clearly. “If you can feel and hear it, so can those dead fucks. Bill, listen to me, and listen good. Get a team out there now to stop them. Do you understand? You will be overrun if you don’t. We won’t make it in time, even if we turned around yesterday.”