by E S Richards
Finally moving outside Zahyra found Cain around the side of the hut chopping wood. He was wearing his black boots and cargo pants the same as the day before and a long sleeved grey top. She mused over the decision of his to wear a long grey top, the back of which she could see was already drenched in sweat from chopping wood in the hot sun. To Zahyra this was a clear indication of him wanting to hide his branding from her, but what she didn’t know was why. Whether he was a low ranked mutant and wanted to save face in front of her was one option – although if he had already seen her ranking she didn’t understand why saving face would matter anymore. He’d also saved her life the day before, so didn’t exactly need to do much more to make him appear strong in her eyes.
The other option for him hiding his branding was, Zahyra shuddered, that he was a high ranked mutant and all of this had been part of some elaborate trap. She pushed this thought to the back of her mind instantly, wanting so badly to be able to feel safe here like she had when she first woke up. Pondering the reasoning for Cain wearing his long sleeved grey top she stood and watched him chop wood by the side of the hut. The sweat glistened in the sunlight on the back of his neck before it dripped down staining his top. He worked hard and fast, not once stopping to take a rest in all the time Zahyra watched him. After a moment she ducked back inside, returning with a mug of water. Slowly she walked over to where Cain was still frantically chopping wood for the fire.
“Hey,” she said softly but then jumped back in shock spilling some of the water from the mug as Cain quickly swivelled round brandishing his axe. “Oh, sorry,” she continued, “just thought you might like some water?”
Cain instantly lowered his axe when he saw her, looking ashamed by his display of hostility. He bent down and rested the axe against the rock on which he had been chopping wood and sheepishly walked over to her.
“Thanks,” he smiled, taking the mug from her and downing the water in two large gulps. He then stood staring at her for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Zahyra noticed his awkwardness and opened her mouth to speak again.
“I er, just wanted to thank you again for yesterday,” she said, “you er, well you saved my life.”
Cain shrugged in acknowledgement then placed the mug on the ground beside him and took another step towards her.
“Better?” He asked, pointing towards her ribs.
“A bit yeah,” she nodded, “still hurts but could have been a lot worse.”
Cain smiled then, a look of tenderness crossing his face. Then he turned about to go back to his axe once more. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to have a proper conversation with him Zahyra spoke quickly, trying to learn something more about this mysterious man who had saved her life.
“Wait,” she started, then paused not knowing entirely what she wanted to ask him herself, “um… h-how long have you lived here? It’s a nice place,” she paused again, “quiet, but it’s nice.”
Cain turned back around to look at her, seeming surprised by her want to continue a conversation.
“Three years,” he answered bluntly. But then stilled facing her as if inviting more questions.
“Oh wow, by yourself?” Zahyra asked.
“Yes.”
Zahyra didn’t really know how to prolong the conversation with it being so one-ended, but Cain remained staring at her so she swallowed and continued to question him.
“How old are you?” She enquired inquisitively.
“Nineteen.”
“Oh,” Zahyra paused. He was only three years older than she was, and therefore must have left his parents at sixteen like most children that age did. He looked much older, which she then said to Cain, only receiving another smile in response. Then, wanting to know more details about her surroundings and if she was anywhere near to the mutant camp where her little brother was being held she continued her sentence. “And er, where are we exactly? Like I know it’s the desert, but is there anything else nearby?”
Cain looked a little offended by this question and scrunched up his face in response before finally giving her an answer.
“Desert.” He nodded, “Just me.”
“Ah, um,” again Zahyra didn’t know how to continue, but took a deep breath and decided she had to tell him the truth if she had any hope of getting out of there and finding Asher.
“The thing is,” she swallowed, “my little brother… he was taken.” Cain looked unaffected by this statement so Zahyra continued, “He was taken by the mutants, the one’s you saved me from. I was wondering if you knew where they would have taken him, and well, if you could maybe show me? Or take me there? I have to find him.”
At this Cain started to shake his head violently. “Not safe,” he muttered, “not safe. Stay.”
“I know,” Zahyra argued, “but I have to save him! He’s all alone, and we were supposed to be going to meet our mother. I can’t just leave him, I have to get to him, I have to…” she trailed off tears beginning to form in her eyes.
Cain looked bewildered by the sight of her starting to cry in front of him and froze in place, unsure of what to do. “Not safe,” he muttered again to himself, uncomfortably standing in place watching Zahyra cry.
“You don’t understand!” Zahyra burst out, sniffing and wiping her eyes before turning and running back into the hut.
Cain remained motionless for a moment, shocked by what had just transpired in front of him. Then he reached down, picked up the mug and followed Zahyra inside. When he entered his hut he found her sat on the pile of blankets in the corner desperately trying to stop crying. She heard him come in but remained facing the wall, not wanting him to see her cry or make eye contact with him.
Cain walked over to the fire with the mug still in his hand and filled it with water from the basin. He then took a few steps towards the makeshift bed where Zahyra sat and placed the mug on the ground near her, before turning around and walking back to the fire where he sat, poking a knife into whatever he was cooking in the pot that day.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a minute, not looking up from the pot he was stirring. Zahyra turned slowly around in the pile of blankets to face him. He still didn’t meet her gaze but continued to speak, “The camp is… far away. Not safe, but…” he paused, each word out of his mouth sounding more uncertain than the last, “I take you.”
Zahyra’s mouth dropped open and she sniffed once more.
“You’ll take me?” she asked hopefully, rising from where she sat and walking over to the fireplace to sit down next to Cain; he still wouldn’t look at her however. Slowly Zahyra placed a hand on Cain’s arm which was outstretched into the pot, holding the knife he used to stir its contents. He flinched at the contact but remained stirring, his eyes focused on the contents moving around the bowl in a circular motion. Cautiously he withdrew his arm, placing the knife on the ground between them. Zahyra’s hand was still touching his sleeve.
“Thank you,” she whispered, removing her hand and setting it down in her lap. She then stared at Cain, willing him to talk more and explain what he was going to do, how he was going to get her to the camp.
“When do you think we can go?” Zahyra asked cautiously, hoping and praying it would be today, or sometime very soon at least. “Can we go now?”
Cain shook his head in response, “No, wait. I…” he trailed off, uncertain of how to finish his sentence. Zahyra jumped at the silence, pleading with him to take her to her brother.
“It’s been too long already since I saw him, I need to know he’ll be safe. I need to get to him quickly! Please Cain…”
“How old?” Cain interrupted.
“What?”
“How old is your brother?”
“Oh,” Zahyra responded, “he’s nine, but,”
Cain cut her off again. “Safe then.” He replied firmly, starting to stand and move away from the fireplace.
“No!” Zahyra interjected, putting her hand on Cain’s arm again and willing him to stay with her and explain what he knew.
“He’s not safe! The mutants took him and I don’t know what they’re doing to him. We need to get there now! We need to save him now!”
Cain looked down at her, half crouching so her hand remained on his arm. Sighing he started to speak again, his eyes suddenly full of both wisdom and sorrow.
“He’s nine, so he’s safe.” He spoke, his voice unexpectedly filled with eloquence and emotion, “I will take you, but not yet. You need to rest. Get strong. Then we will go.”
With that Cain stood up to his full height and walked back out of the hut leaving Zahyra confused and shocked as she remained sat in front of the fire. The way he had just spoken to her was so different to everything she’d heard from him since they arrived here. He had almost spoken in proper sentences for one, rather than just punctuated words in his deep, monosyllabic tone. He had seemed to care for her, and for Asher too. Unknowing of what to make of the situation, but relieved at least that Cain had said he would take her to Asher Zahyra relaxed a little. It just had to be soon. There was now less than two weeks until Asher’s tenth birthday, something that Zahyra had refrained from telling Cain.
Zahyra decided she would question him more later, but for now she just sat in front of the fire, watching the flames dance in the slight breeze that snuck in under the hanging rug in the doorway. Tiny specks of ash floated a few inches above the fire, swirling around in the air just as they had done above the fire in her camp the night she’d named Asher. Watching the ash gave Zahyra hope. For the first time since the bus crash in fact she had real hope for finding Asher and she would not let it get away from her this time.
She remained in front of the fire for a while longer, mesmerised by the flames and the small flurries of ash they created. She thought of her family and being reunited with them. She also thought of Cain. Who was this man? Her feelings about him changed with every new interaction they shared. First he saves her life but then refuses to engage her in conversation. Then he seems to care for her, checking up on her injuries and giving her food and water. Now he had also shown that he cared for her brother too and this filled Zahyra with optimism.
The one thing she couldn’t push out of her mind however was who he really was. The fact his branding remained a mystery to her meant she could never feel completely at ease around him. Every fibre in her body wanted to believe that he was a good man and that he would help her get back to Asher, but not knowing the truth about him meant she couldn’t trust him completely. Nor could she quell that seed of doubt in her mind that this was all a trap.
An hour passed before Cain returned inside the hut, his arms full of firewood and his body drenched again in sweat from labouring. It was midday dusk now but there was still a sweltering heat outside, the vastness of the desert wastelands providing little relief to those stuck in it.
Cain dropped the firewood in a bucket beside the door and walked over towards Zahyra. He leant down and filled a mug of water, which he drank thirstily, then refilled it and drank again. After he’d quenched his thirst he offered the mug to Zahyra, which she accepted graciously. He then sat next to her and checked the contents of the pot above the fire.
“Hungry?” he asked peacefully.
Zahyra nodded, her stomach growling in response. She had not realised how hungry she was until he’d asked that question. She’d survived on so little since escaping her camp. Cain pulled the pot away from the fire and took it over to the wooden table in the corner of the room. There he produced two bowls, filled them with the liquid and beckoned Zahyra over to him. They sat in silence for a while drinking from their bowls, savouring every mouthful of the delicious broth.
“What is it?” Zahyra asked between swigs, unable to place the flavour exactly.
Cain lowered his bowl from his mouth and grinned at her, a playful twinkle appearing in his eye. “Beetles.”
Zahyra stopped drinking, her eyebrows raised at his response. Normally she would’ve spat it out in disgust, the thought of eating insects had always repulsed her, even now when food was so scarce. But Cain had done something to the broth to make it taste so exquisite that the thought of eating bugs didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would.
“Wow,” she replied surprised, “well it’s delicious. Thank you.”
Cain smiled again in response, demonstrating once more his set of perfectly white teeth. They contrasted heavily against his dark skin and beard, which Zahyra mused would have given him an almost childlike appearance had he not been so rugged and well built. If Cain himself hadn’t told her that he was only nineteen she would certainly have not believed it.
“Work now.” Cain blurted out taking Zahyra by surprise. She wondered what he meant by this, more chopping wood perhaps or hunting for food. He quickly put her thoughts to rest.
“Be back tomorrow.”
“Wait! You’re leaving?” Zahyra exclaimed. She had emphatically not expected Cain to leave her here, what would she do all by herself in the desert. What if someone else found her? Worry began to rush through her at the thought of being out here alone, her eyes widened and Cain could see from her expression she was beginning to panic.
“Don’t panic.” He said firmly. “Safe here. No one comes here.” His words did little to reassure Zahyra who all of a sudden felt unsafe and nervous. Her breathing grew more ragged and she moved one of her hands from the table onto her chest to try and still the pain that it was causing in her ribs.
“Don’t panic.” Cain repeated and then cautiously moved his hand over the table so it rested on top of hers. He took a deep breath and looked Zahyra straight in the eyes before continuing. “I need to work. Few more days and then save your brother. Okay?”
Zahyra didn’t like being left alone in Cain’s hut one bit but at the mention of saving her brother again she relaxed and tried to breathe out all her worry.
“Okay,” she replied without breaking eye contact with Cain, the striking blue of his eyes causing her to feel more relaxed as she gazed deeply into them.
“Okay. Good.” Cain stated, looking away from her and beginning to gather up the bowls from the table. “There’s more,” he said indicating to the pot, “for you when I’m gone.”
Zahyra nodded in response, her eyes taking a fleeting glance to the rest of the beetle broth in the pot and then returning to look at Cain. He had risen from the table now and was walking around the hut gathering belongings for his work. Zahyra watched him as he did so. He picked up his leather jacket that he had been wearing the day before and threw it on over his long sleeved grey top, then he grabbed a long rag from beside the bed and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He filled a water bottle from the basin and tucked it into one of the side pockets of his cargo pants and put what looked like a very stale crust of bread in another. Then he walked towards the boxes filled with pots, pans and other random things and pulled out two sharp knives. Zahyra gasped when she saw these but covered her mouth quickly so Cain didn’t notice. He slid each of the knives into some sort of casing and then pushed them down into his boots, one in each. Finally he reached above the door and withdrew his gun.
Zahyra’s eyes widened as she realised she had completely forgotten about him possessing a gun. A gun he had used to shoot a mutant the day before. He tucked the gun under the waistband of his cargo pants and pulled his top down covering the handle.
“Tomorrow,” he said looking over at Zahyra, who could do nothing but nod in response. And with that he was gone. Zahyra listened as she heard his motorcycle rev to life outside and then drive off into the distance. She listened carefully until it was no longer within earshot and then leaned back in her seat. This was it. She was alone in a stranger’s hut in the middle of the desert. All she could do was wait and hope, pray, that he would return tomorrow.
Chapter 8
Zahyra busied herself immediately, hoping that keeping her mind occupied would allow her to evade thinking about her situation. Looking around Cain’s hut there wasn’t much to work with, but she decided to try and br
ighten the place up a little.
Starting in the sleeping area she gathered each of the blankets and moved them to one side. Then she picked up the heavy animal skin rug and dragged it outside where she began beating at it with her hand, clouds of dust particles raining off it onto the sand below. She did the same to each blanket in turn, ensuring they were all as free from dirt as she could possibly make them. She put the animal skin rug back where it had lay before and arranged the blankets over and around it in a neat and orderly fashion.
Satisfied with that area she moved onto the fireplace and the table, although truth be told there was very little she could find to organise. She hung the pot of beetle broth back on the fireplace so that it would keep warm for her to eat again later that evening, and possibly tomorrow depending on what time Cain returned.
Zahyra racked her brain over what kind of work he could be doing through the night. As it involved him taking two knives and a gun she doubted very much that it could be a pleasant line of work. She shuddered remembering how quickly everything had been over with T the other day, one gunshot and it was all done.
Did Cain feel any remorse shooting the mutant or was that just another day at work for him? She hadn’t been looking at the time so she didn’t know how he had reacted or what kind of actions he had taken leading up to pulling the trigger. Zahyra wanted to believe that Cain only took the gun out with him for protection, but then why did he need two knives to accompany it as well?
Shaking her head she knew it was doing her no good to dwell on the topic. He had saved her life with that gun and if he didn’t have it she would have been the one lying dead in the sand, not the Gen 3 mutant. He seemed like a nice enough guy to Zahyra, and aside from her not knowing what his ranking was she had no reason not to trust him, so mentally gave him the benefit of the doubt and moved on. She finished organising the eating/dining area, pulling a few cobwebs from the walls and lining up the cooking instruments that sat in front of the fire.
