by J. Thorn
“Please tell me you see a deer. That squirrel meat is already starting to turn.”
“No.” Hado pointed to the west. “Look. Something you might never see again.”
Water stretched from north to south. With the morning sun at her back, the light sparkled off the top of the fast-moving river, the other side of it so far away that at first she’d thought they had arrived at the shoreline of an angry sea.
But between them and a bridge crossing the river, there sat a dusty, abandoned town. Hado hadn’t heard a sound as they’d approached, and nothing had disturbed the dirt along the tracks or at the highway crossing.
“Is that a lake?” Dia asked.
“No. A river. Probably the biggest you’ll ever see.” She spun Ree to face the water. “This is the Mississippi River. It’s the longest one on the continent. It runs from the old northern border all the way to the south and into the Great Gulf.”
“I didn’t know rivers could be that long.”
Hado kept her eyes on the crumbling buildings. She scanned from one rooftop to another and into the black holes that used to be windows. Nothing moved, but that didn’t mean there was nothing inside of them. The rails ran straight into the town before them, with structures on both sides. An ambush in this corridor would make it nearly impossible for them to escape alive.
“We should cross the highway bridge and meet back up with the tracks on the other side. I’d much rather cross that wide bridge on the roadway than going over the rails.”
“I thought you said we should stay close to the train tracks. That people wouldn’t be following those as much as the roads.”
“I did say that. But there aren’t many Mississippi crossings. If a clan wanted to catch and rob travelers, this would be a likely place to do it.”
Dia nodded, but said nothing. Hado led them away from the tracks and toward the road which ran parallel. Unlike the rails, the road angled toward the river, but with open space on each side displaying tracts of land filled with rusted and burned-out automobiles. Decker obediently followed behind them, and Hado hadn’t heard so much as a whinny from the horses, all of which she had to believe was a good sign that the town was as dead as it looked.
As they slowly approached the main street of the river-crossing town, Hado could smell the lingering odor of burnt plastic and petroleum products—most likely boat fuel or gasoline that had been stored in tankers at the docks and then burst open or leaked out over the years. The buildings loomed around them, two and three stories tall, and most with charred, black shadows reaching from the ground to the rooftops where fires had raged.
They moved through an intersection where several cars sat, offering a mangled pile of metal with bones scattered about. They had been picked clean and bleached white by the sun. The wind had blown blue, plastic shopping bags down the empty streets, as well, and they now hung off the sharp edges of the wrecks.
“Burlington.”
Dia’s voice startled Hado, and she pulled on Ree’s reins harder than she had intended. “What?”
“There,” the girl said, pointing at the side of a brick building. “Burlington National Bank. This town must have been called Burlington.”
Hado imagined that made sense. She couldn’t possibly remember all of the forgotten provinces of the old United States of America, though, so where the city of Burlington sat on those imaginary borders was a mystery.
“Burlington is what this was,” Hado said, as if needing to clarify her comment for Dia.
“MacArthur Bridge. That sign, right there.”
Hado looked up and saw the label beneath fading paint and lines of rust crawling over the sign. It hung from one fastener on a street pole, the square sign dangling in the shape of a diamond.
“Are we going to cross the—”
“Shh.” Hado put her finger to her mouth, and Dia immediately stopped talking. The low growl had been coming from behind them. From Decker.
The pack emerged from the opened doorways and broken windows of Burlington. Two, possibly three dozen wolves surrounded them, moving as quietly as spirits through a graveyard.
“Fifty. Maybe sixty of them,” said Dia, neither of the women worried about staying hidden any longer. “There’s no way we can fight them all off.”
Decker stopped growling, and now stood just ahead of Piva’s massive legs. The horses neighed and sidestepped, unsure whether to stand still or gallop for their lives.
“The squirrels.”
“What?”
“The squirrel meat, Dia. Where is it packed?”
“In our main sack. With just about everything else except our weapons.”
Hado kept her eyes on the buildings while she spoke to Dia. She had no idea how many wolves could live in this place unless they routinely hunted and killed people coming through this narrow pass—she would have said that was unlikely before seeing this scene unfold, but it seemed like they had developed a strategy to do just that, and had had many opportunities to practice.
“When I say go, ride as hard as you can for MacArthur Bridge. Don’t stop until you get on it. No matter what happens. Do you understand?”
The alpha male came closer, a dozen hungry wolves pacing behind him.
“Dia!”
The girl looked at Hado, her eyes wet and wide. She nodded quickly.
“Good. Now hand me the bag with the squirrel meat.”
Dia reached back, unstrapping the sack with what little food and water they had left. The girl handed it to Hado, who then opened it up and looked inside.
Three strips of meat and a hide. Won’t keep them occupied for long.
“Are you ready?”
Decker looked off toward the wolves and then at Hado from where he sat in front of Dia.
“Yes,” said the girl. “But there are so many.”
The wolves had tightened their circle, the alpha male now five feet away, coming so close that Hado could smell the wet fur on the beast.
“Trust me. We can outrun them. Chances are they’ll be afraid of the river and not want to risk crossing on the bridge.”
Hado reached into the bag to grab the squirrel meat. When she did, her hand slid from the reins and she grasped at the rope of Ree’s lead instead of the bag in surprise. Instead of slinging the squirrel at the wolves, she had dropped the entire bag—containing all of their food and water. She looked up and saw that the alpha male was already springing into motion.
“Go!”
Hado held Ree in check as Dia turned her back to the pack and kicked Piva with her heels, racing west down the main street of East Burlington and toward the MacArthur Bridge. A skittering kick of Ree’s hooves split the sack open, and the squirrel meat suddenly slid out into the open. Hado watched as the wolves momentarily froze, unsure whether to take a chance at the big catch or fight over the scraps on the ground before them.
Hado didn’t wait to see what they would do. She kicked Ree in the ribs and galloped after Dia and toward the river. She looked back once and saw that the alpha male stood over the bag while the rest of the pack surrounded him.
But the diversion didn’t last. The squirrel meat only gave Hado about a two-hundred-yard head start.
Dia’s hair flew in the wind as she pushed Piva through the streets and around the wreckage of pickup trucks and cars that hadn’t been driven in decades.
Hado heard the pack behind them, but didn’t turn around, instead keeping her focus on what Ree had to avoid to keep from breaking a leg or throwing her rider.
Piva and Ree galloped along Main Street and approached the bridge. Hado pushed her mare further until she was side-by-side with Dia.
“Just get on the bridge. No matter what!”
At first, Hado wasn’t sure Dia had heard her or understood what she’d said. But there wasn’t time to clarify. Instead, she pushed Ree out in front of Piva as they raced to the bridge, where a chain link fence had been erected in front of the entrance to the MacArthur Bridge. It looked rusted and old, g
aps they could easily ride through even though the horses might collapse from exhaustion at any moment. Hado didn’t want to push them on so little food and water, but their lives depended on it.
Without hesitation, Hado yelled and kicked Ree one last time as the horse ran between the fence and onto the bridge. She let the mare naturally deaccelerate before spinning around in time to see Dia following. They both stopped about two hundred yards from the fence and turned around.
The pack had followed them, but the alpha male paced back and forth on the other side of the fence—not putting a single paw onto the roadway over the water. Hado looked around and noticed that huge hunks of concrete had fallen into the waters below after they’d passed through the fence, their horses having already begun to navigate a checkered path over the Mississippi.
“I think they’re afraid to follow us over the water.”
“I think you’re right.” Hado could see the sweat plastering Dia’s face as she let Decker jump back down to the ground. “Let’s get to the other side. We’re going to need more food and water. Soon. For all of us.”
“Will he be okay walking over this bridge?” Dia asked.
“Those breeds love the water. But from this point on, let’s keep him in your saddle. You’ll have to scoot back a bit so Decker can perch on the leather and against your chest. The farther we travel, the more torn up his paws will get.”
Decker turned around and barked before Dia picked him up again, as if taunting the pack they’d narrowly escaped.
Chapter 20
8 Days West of Erehwon
Dawn approached as Hado and Dia moved toward the outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska. As with most of the cities they’d passed through, the area surrounding the train tracks lay cluttered with dozens of empty, metal shipping containers that had been abandoned in the rail yard, rusted after decades of disuse. A few streets with row houses sat nearby, the dead city in the near distance.
Hado turned her head and yawned, trying to hide her fatigue from Dia.
“I’m tired, too,” the girl said.
They had traveled most of the night—a rare choice on their part because it was dangerous, and because the horses needed to rest. The previous day, they had stopped for their evening meal somewhere in western Iowa and then decided to keep going instead of setting up camp for the night. Hado had worried that the Mississippi may have been home to more thieves and nomads and she didn’t want to risk another encounter while their animals had been so weak.
But Dia had made Decker walk and now he was panting, and the horses had slowed down. And if Hado was beginning to yawn, she figured Dia had to be tired now, as well.
“We’ll find a place to stop and make camp for the rest of the morning,” Hado said. “We’ve made good progress.”
Hado scanned the area again, but this time with an eye toward where they might rest safely. One of the shipping containers would work if they had no other choice, but she was hesitant to go too far into the city before stopping. The encounter with the Eternal Hounds in Chicago flashed into her mind each time she thought of it. She didn’t want another confrontation like that, especially not while dealing with the cut on her arm that had begun to itch and burn. And just because there wasn’t a human threat didn’t mean they were safe—a lesson from Burlington worth remembering.
“What’s that place?” Dia asked.
Hado followed the girl’s gaze to a cluster of enclosed buildings to their left. The grass had grown halfway up the tall fence that surrounded the property. As they rode closer, a sign came into view.
Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo and Aquarium.
“What’s a ‘zoo and aquarium’?” Dia asked.
“It’s a place where people used to keep animals in cages, a place they would go for entertainment.”
“Why? What’s entertaining about animals in a cage?”
Hado smiled. “Not ordinary animals. Exotic ones—the kind that wouldn’t roam around in the wild. Tigers, kangaroos, even elephants.”
“I don't even know what those things are. Weren't elephants really big? How did they keep them inside?”
“Trained professionals. And that’s just the zoo. The aquariums were places for water animals. They had water inside of glass tanks with all kinds of fish, sharks, turtles, and whales.”
Dia laughed. “Okay, now you’re really messing with me. I’ve heard about whales. Aren’t they, like, as big as elephants?”
“Sometimes much bigger.” Hado pointed to the shipping containers. “I think some of them could get as big, if not bigger, than those.”
“That’s incredible! Maybe we can go find shelter there.”
Hado shook her head. “I don’t know.” A wisp of memory floated by, of Hado as a girl staring up at the backlit cages and tanks inside of a zoo that no longer existed. She wondered what had happened to those animals from her past, and the question brought her thoughts back to the present.
What happened to those animals from the past at this particular zoo?
“Why not? Surely none of the animals would be alive now, right?”
“I’m not sure which ones could have adapted to the climate without electricity or caretakers. But that’s not the only thing I’m worried about. A clan could be living inside of the zoo.”
“And if they are, wouldn’t they put trip wires on the perimeter? If we see any, we can turn around.”
Dia had a point. They had gone into several buildings in different places they’d stopped, and the vacant ones had all been easy enough to identify. The few that had been occupied in the recent past almost always had trip wires with hanging cans set up as a primitive alarm system. And the threat of their running into any left-over animals had to be almost nonexistent. The facility had sat here for decades without power and without a staff to feed them.
“You’re right,” Hado said. “We should go have a look. It could be a fine place for us to camp for a few hours.”
They angled away from the tracks and into the roadway leading to the zoo’s entrance. It was as if Ree could sense that they were about to stop, too, as the horse’s energy seemed to dissipate. Hado patted her on the side.
“You’ll rest soon, girl.”
As Hado led them around to the main entrance, she noticed that most of the fencing was still intact, but with gaps in some places. Weeds grew in the spaces and Hado couldn’t tell whether the sections had fallen around the time when the world died or more recently. She couldn’t smell burning firewood, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people living inside.
“I wonder how many of the animals got out,” Dia said.
Or if any are still inside, Hado thought.
She remembered books from her childhood, even though her memories of zoo visits were foggy at best. Elephants could smash cars, and rhinos could gore people with their large horns. But, looking around, she’d seen no evidence of animals of that size moving in or near the zoo.
Hado pulled the reins up on Ree as they stopped before the front gates. She looked down across the road and over the area in front of the gate, trying to locate any trip wires.
“Looks clear.” Hado pointed ahead. “Not sure that gate is going to open, though. We might have to tie the horses to it and leave them out here, at least for now. We can go in and scope it out, then go from there.”
They dismounted. Hado stretched, happy to be standing for the moment and allowing her sore backside a brief respite from the constant bumps. She led Ree to the wrought-iron gates and tied her off, grabbing her spear before she stepped away.
After tying off her own mount, Dia followed Hado as she squeezed between the bent rods of the gate. Decker leaped through last.
The two women paused just beyond the gate, staring around the inside of the zoo.
“Look at this place,” Dia said.
A burnt-orange skeletal dome sat amongst a copse of maples that had grown around and through it. A single, black line stretched overhead from one wooden pole to another while others dangl
ed from where they had been attached at the top. Several buildings sat along the main causeway, which had been overtaken by high weeds and vines. The archway above said “Children’s Adventure Trails,” but the brightly-colored paint had flaked or faded into dull, flat tones. The wind blew through the place with a quiet whisper, the air carrying the scent of pine—not campfires.
Hado approached a booth with a glass window which had a circle cut in the bottom. Something had hit the glass, so that there was a spider web of cracks running from the point of impact toward the edges of the frame. A sign on the outside of the booth read: Tickets.
“Amazing to think that, at one time, hundreds of people came through here every day,” Hado said. “Parents with their smiling children.”
Dia looked at Hado curiously. “What was it like to be a child in the Old World?”
“I honestly don’t remember much. And it’s probably better that way. I get a quick glimpse of the past, or I smell something that reminds me of something that may or may not have happened. I used to read many books, but unfortunately, that has made it difficult for me to distinguish between my past and the collective past.”
The girl waited, her head cocked sideways.
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t do anything about the past, and living there is the same as being dead.”
“Really? Like Erehwon?”
Hado frowned, but didn’t look at Dia. “Let’s see what we can find.”
She felt the girl’s eyes on her, an accusation roiling just beneath the surface. But Dia didn’t push it, and so Hado let the comment go.
As they moved forward into the main courtyard at the heart of the zoo, the stench of the place overcame her—rotting flesh.
Where there’s death, there’s danger. I’m not sure we can stay here.
Then Hado noticed the blood stains on the ground and on the walls. She still hadn’t seen any carcasses, but in addition to the odors, she could hear flies buzzing.
Decker whined and ran ahead. He stopped at a wall and sniffed.
“What could he be smelling?” Dia asked. “Or who?”
