Vicinus (Walking Shadows Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  Yosef looks up from the bag. “Did you want one of these now?”

  I shake my head. “No, Castor will throw me through a wall if I ruin his dinner by sampling dessert first.”

  Yosef smirks. “Smart decision.” He tucks the bag into the corner of the counter then snatches my lollipop from my mouth as he brushes past me.

  I huff at the thief’s retreating back and share my protest by retreating up the stairs a little bit louder than usual, but he just taps away on his screens rolling my lollipop in his mouth.

  “Put some ice on that bruise,” he calls after me.

  Six

  4 YEARS AGO

  Day number…unknown. I tried counting at first but quickly found it easier not to think about it. Each day blurs into the next and we’ve still no better plan besides wandering the Southern Coalition. No one chases after us and nothing is waiting on the other side so we wander.

  “I still think the Rochester Alliance is our best bet,” Tola argues stubbornly.

  Jax shakes his head. “What and give up all this freedom?” he laughs. “You’re crazy, man. Out here no one knows who we are, they don’t care what we do, it’s paradise!”

  “To you maybe,” Katy groans. “I’d kill for a temperature controlled room right now.”

  I smile in sympathy and wipe the sweat from my own brow. I’ve no idea where we are but I do know that after living the past four years in a steady climate controlled facility with no windows that the unruly climates thrown at us by nature have been taking their toll. “Out here we have no limits,” I concede, “but we also won’t be able to keep surviving off the kindness of strangers. At least the Alliance has a refugee program that will set us up.”

  “Exactly,” Tola agrees quickly.

  “Assuming that old lady didn’t lie to us,” Risa pipes up though I wish she’d kept that thought to her self.

  “No way,” Marta disagrees. “She was so nice!”

  “No one is nice out here,” Liza murmurs almost too quiet to hear.

  I place an arm around her shoulders in a gesture that I hope is comforting. “Nathan’s gone, Liza,” I say gently, telling her what she already knows but doesn’t want to believe. “You can’t mourn him forever. You’ve got to live. He’d want you to.”

  Tears form in her eyes and I feel at a loss as to how to help her. I’m amazed she has any tears left, I’m dumbfounded by how fiercely she grieves for a boy she barely knew. Maybe it’s just the shock of everything happening all at once. I don’t know so I just hold her unsure of what else to do.

  We parked our selves beneath a scraggly tree to give our feet some rest and eat another careful ration from our packs. I take in the ravaged landscape around us. We’re down to ten. At least when Piper left us it wasn’t for the grave. When we found refuge for a few days with a caravan of musicians she’d sung as if born to the family and decided to stay. She found a home and really that’s all we’re out here wandering for. I say a silent prayer that she’s still happy and safe.

  Risa is right to question even the nicest and most harmless seeming soul. We learned quickly that a land abandoned to chaos creates a people of survivors where only the strongest rise to see tomorrow and kindness isn’t the strength most people choose for the arena. People toss around the word “apocalypse” a lot but that’s not what this was, or is. An apocalypse should shake the whole world with God’s judgment but instead just a small hunk of prideful land was laid waste coast to coast by human greed and abandoned. In other words, business as usual except this time it happened to us. We can’t help ourselves, I suppose. We’ve got to feel special.

  “Hey, Maddy,” Ramses calls in that deep voice of his.

  I nudge Liza away, tired from her tears and now gently dozing, and stand crossing my arms as we watch a truck trundle towards us. There’s a part of my brain that tells me to run any time we cross any signs of life but I also know we have to risk it because we simply don’t possess the skills to survive without at least the occasional foray into human territory. Besides, we can’t wander forever.

  Tense, our muscles ready to disperse into the abandoned jungle of hidey-holes around us, we wait to see what this day will bring.

  The truck simmers to a halt and a man with a gap between his teeth leans out. “Hey, kids. You got some place to be?” Concern touches his brow but I keep my arms crossed tightly, my sweaty palms curled into shaking fists, and wait.

  Tola opens his mouth to respond but Jax beats him to it and I could kick him. “Of course we do,” he tosses back. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

  It’s as if no lesson can stick to him. Each hardship, each failure leaves behind something important to glean but instead it seems to just roll off him leaving nothing except a confidence he hasn’t earned.

  The man shakes his head. “It isn’t safe for a bunch of kids to wander around alone out here. I can give you a ride to the next town if you don’t mind riding in the back.”

  Tola and I meet each other’s gaze and I see my reluctance to accept the man’s offer reflected in his eyes. Before a decision can be made another sound has us all scanning the road. A caravan led by horses is plodding its way over. Who knew such an empty spot would be so popular?

  I eye the man in the truck and see his jaw tighten at the caravan’s slow approach. For a moment I think he’ll drive off but he says something to someone I can’t see in the truck and then hops out, slamming the door shut behind him. Three wagons pull up and the lead driver eyes us over.

  “Now is this some party going on that we weren’t invited to?” she asks and I struggle to interpret her tone.

  “If you know of one I’ll be on my way quick as lightning,” the truck driver grins.

  “Who are you?” the wagon lady wonders as do I.

  Removing his hat the man gives a little dip of his head. “Warren Cox, ma’am. I’m a salesman just traveling town to town as I do.”

  The woman purses her lips, suspicious of something though I don’t know what. “What kind of wares?”

  “Oh a little of this, a little of that,” he shrugs still maintaining his hospitable smile.

  “I see,” she says though she doesn’t sound happy about it.

  I glance around and feel relief that the others seem just as caught up in the scene and unlikely to interrupt it or drag the attention over to us before we can sort out who’s who and what’s what. The woman seems stern and the man seems nice and both are hiding plenty in those rolling boxes of theirs. I don’t like it and my spine buzzes with the desire to cover my eyes or flee.

  “And what about you kids?” The lady asks us and I curse at the notice.

  “Just on our way home,” Risa says calmly.

  “Oh yes? And where might home be?”

  “Where it is,” she says like it’s obvious.

  I swear I see the woman almost crack a smile at Risa’s cheekiness. “And this man here is going to help you get there?”

  Marta’s surly face practically screams her doubt as she answers. “He said he’d take us to the next town over in his truck and spare us from walking alone on these dangerous open roads.”

  A darkness flashes in her eyes and she returns her attention to the truck driver who’s now leaning against the cab as relaxed as can be. “This true?”

  Warren shrugs. “Might be.”

  “Isn’t the next town over a Corral town?” she presses and not for the first time I wonder what that word means.

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re being awfully nosy in other people’s affairs. I think it best if you just move along,” he responds finally starting to lose his grip on his grin.

  “Kids, if you want I’ll let you ride with us for two towns over,” she offers ignoring Warren Cox’s suggestion.

  “Two sounds better than one,” Ignacio shrugs and Katy agrees. Something in my gut has me agreeing as well.

  Our discussion is scattered and hushed but I glance over and see that this Warren guy indeed isn’t traveling
alone. Four others join him and they watch us like a hawk spotting mice.

  “What are you hauling in them wagons anyway?” Warren asks suspiciously. “Explosives? Pretty dangerous haul.”

  The woman remains impassive at his prying.

  “Nah, that’s not it,” Warren shakes his head. “Food?”

  Nothing.

  “Nope, not food.” He snaps his fingers like he just solved a riddle. “I know. You’re some of those traveler types, aren’t ya? No roots just a home on wheels, huh? Is that family you got in there then?”

  Her eye gives a damning twitch. “My haul doesn’t concern you.”

  He laughs. “Oh I see, you can ask about mine but I can’t ask about yours?” His laughter dies and a deadly gleam surfaces in his eyes. “How about we just find out?” He whips his gun from its holster and fires two shots into the scrap fabric coverings unleashing a chorus of terrified screams.

  The woman draws a rifle from her perch and a few others with guns hop out of the wagons in defense. The rest of us have dropped to the ground, terror holding us down. Cox’s men split, half backing him up and the other two come right for us. Forcing flight into my muscles I drag myself away and whoever I can grab shouting for the others to get up and run. A sharp yelp snaps my head around and I see Ignacio now wrestling a man who’d clearly tried to grab Sam forcing him to drop the little boy where he scrambles to find his feet.

  I yell at Tola and Katy to take the others and hide but Ramses runs into the fray and I go after him not waiting to see if my orders are obeyed. Ignacio and Ramses are the biggest and strongest of the group, our protectors, and they battle the two men fiercely but the men are ruthless and we have no training but it doesn’t matter because the killing blow comes fired from a steel barrel. Ignacio drops to the ground, his eyes already empty of life, and I scream his name over and over.

  The two men combine their efforts and begin dragging Ramses to the back of their truck and I run after them, beating my fists against whatever enemy flesh I can find and screaming like a rabid banshee. A pair of strong arms suddenly hooks around me and hauls me away with a rough tug and I kick and scream against this new attacker. I can barely hear what I think are supposed to be words of salvation as I’m forcibly dragged towards the last caravan, the other two already having bolted, and away from Ramses who’s gone limp.

  I watch in horror still reaching out as if I can save him as the two men haul his unconscious body into the back of their truck. Warren and the others hop into the truck and take off before they’ve even shut all the doors. My body is lifted and someone else pulls me into the wagon but all I can do is sit in the horror, adrenaline urging my stomach to heave. Whoever grabbed me jumps in and the horses take off and I’m useless. I’m useless. So so useless. I curl my arms around my knees and cry ignoring a warm hand rubbing gentle circles on my back in an effort to soothe me.

  It turns out the caravan is a family.

  It turns out they’re the safe ones.

  It turns out a Corral is where they auction off kids.

  It turns out those men wanted us to sell.

  It turns out Ramses survived just to become a slave.

  It turns out Ignacio died just to be abandoned.

  It turns out this land isn’t done with us yet. It’s bloodthirsty and our suffering is its strength.

  I cry and I cry and I want to go home, my heart breaks so desperate to go home, but I have no home and that makes me cry even more.

  “Hey, hey it’s alright,” a woman assures me gently. “We’ll take care of you.”

  I shake my head at her promise. “No, I have to go back,” I wheeze. “Please I have to take care of them. I have to go back.”

  There is silence in the wagon until the same woman breaks it at last. “They might not be there anymore,” she tells me reluctantly.

  So many words wail and collide in my head but all I manage is to lift my head, look her deep into her bright blue eyes, and say with pure feeling, “I have to go back.”

  I stay with the caravan only one night. Sleep comes only after they agree to my incessant demands to return me to that haunted spot. The others got away and I have to find them. We’re a team and we stick together. They agree to send me with a small party and we ride swiftly in the morning though it feels like a crawl to my worried heart. When I spot that familiar scraggly tree we slow and I release the rider’s waist to tumble off desperate to begin my search.

  My feet pause at the sight of Ignacio, laid out where he fell. He looks like he’s sleeping. I look around knowing someone had positioned his body but see nothing. One of the riders stays with me while the other two fan out to search.

  “Tola?” I shout, the question in my voice painful to bear. “Risa? Jax?”

  I yell out all of their names but can’t bring myself to stray too far from Ignacio’s body. The sound of hooves reaches my ears and I see the riders returning, herding Marta, Risa holding little Sam’s hand, Tola, Jax who isn’t cocky for once, and… “Katy? Liza?” my voice comes out a hoarse whisper rebelling against the thought that they might be…

  “Gone,” Tola frowns and I see the panic still stamped across their faces.

  “What happened?” I beg. I have to know even if it haunts my dreams till the day I die.

  “They came back,” he says and his breath is a heavy shudder.

  A silence chokes us pressing out all sound and feeling. And now the Chosen Twelve are down to six.

  “We have a shovel,” one of the men, Martin I think he said his name was, speaks up somberly. “To bury your friend.”

  I manage to nod but when he offers to dig the grave I stop him. Instead we six take turns. Some barely manage more than a few scoops of earth while others hack at it like it’s to blame for Ignacio’s death and every other wrong that’s ever befallen us in this cursed place. When it’s my turn I find a rhythm to empty my mind. I sink the shovel into the earth with a sharp strike, stomp it deeper with my boot, and then pry it free with a strength I hadn’t realized I’d been building. I do it over and over until a hand on my shoulder stills me and Maybe Martin tells me it’s done.

  The man gently lays our friend into the pit and I can’t bear to watch this ending. I turn my gaze away, hugging Sam tightly with one arm and clinging to Risa’s hand with my other. It takes me a moment to realize my turmoil has calmed when I notice Maybe Martin and the others are singing. It’s somber and deep and hooks my heart like a tether. As I hone in on the melody and pick apart the harmonies and try to brand the words into my brain I find I’ve no room left for the lashing chaos that were my thoughts moments before. The music brings me focus, it brings release, and I start to hum along.

  It’s been so long since I’ve heard music and even the few times since, like with Piper’s gaggle of musicians, it never had cause to show its true powers. My body sways in time to the traveller’s dirge and I begin to sing wordlessly as my entire body seizes this surcease of panic in my chest. I’m no longer lost in my grief, no longer wandering aimless in blind terror, no longer running circles in my head…I feel tethered, present, alive.

  I listen and I settle and I mourn.

  …With every passing day by day

  I find life’s colors slipping away

  But you’ve sailed past the stars

  And in Heaven you wait

  So I sing ev’ry day by day

  Send strength until it’s time I lay…

  Seven

  ARCAS

  Stepping off my charging station I sink into my favorite chair behind the surveillance desk. Memory foam, ergonomic, and it swivels and rolls the best of our chairs making it Yosef’s but so long as he isn’t here to claim it I can enjoy it all I want. People forget that about Androids, that we can enjoy things. Maybe it’s programmed or a simulated response that creates a fabricated sense of “enjoyment” but either way it’s all I know and life would be kinder if the world understood that.

  Whimpers reach my heightened hearing and I know at
once the sound belongs to Maddy. Another nightmare. I’d hoped that with time she would heal and the nightmares would go away, but I suppose it hasn’t been enough time. Androids can feel pain like humans, or at least a negative response or preference to an action, but like enjoyment I suspect it isn’t quite the same. It doesn’t seem the same at least. I can want, I can have preferences, but humans seem to feel everything so much deeper and stronger.

  I did not enjoy my life before this one. Confined to a luxurious room fitted with holograms and digital walls that could become any place they wanted, I served only for the pleasure of others, reduced to a puppet they could command to play out any fantasy they could conjure. I did not enjoy it, but it was all I knew and I was programmed to obey. I did not hate it, I don’t know if I can hate, but it wasn’t what I would have chosen if asked though the thought of being asked never occurred to me until KJ and Yosef tampered with my settings and suddenly I saw.

  In honesty I cannot say I particularly enjoyed the new life Yosef gave me much either and I know he only “rescued” me because I served top tier uppers full of sensitive information they liked to drip into my ear with a lover’s hiss knowing I was programmed to never say a word. I was full of secrets Yosef could pry out of my hard drive and manipulate into power. Even so, like my old purpose I was good at this new life and thought it sufficed especially since Yosef made an effort to avoid too many direct commands to simulate a sense of freedom for me; an odd kindness from him. It wasn’t until the softly crying child upstairs entered my life that I found my new purpose…enjoyable.

  Except for nights like these when her human brain tortures itself with memories filled with things I can only ever guess at and can do nothing to stop. Yosef knows all of our stories while it remains up to us if we decide to share them with the others. As head of our surveillance I know more than many think I do and I keep silent because I know they wouldn’t like it if they knew.