The Prophet's Daughter

by Kilayla Pilon

  “Crutches for Arin,” she responded. “To help her leg get better.”

  “Oh?” I looked at the crutches. “How?”

  “Keep you upright while you’re walking,” she said. “Keep your legs strong while you’re leg is getting better. You shouldn’t need them for too long – a month at most. After that, well see if you can walk or not.”

  “A month?” I gasped, staring at her with wide eyes. “But…”

  “I know, but you have to give it time or you’ll just ruin your leg,” she paused. “Olive, can you go see Dana? I think she may need help with the baby.”

  “Tyson?” Olive asked, jumping up. “Doctor Olive to the rescue!” She bolted out of the tent, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “She’s spirited,” I said as I laughed, shaking my head.

  “Quite a kid,” Felicity sighed. “Anyway, your leg. You have to give it time, okay? I know you don’t want to stay, but that’s just how it has to be for now. It’ll make our walks easier, too. This way we can move at an easier pace for your and you don’t have to lean on me.”

  “Right,” I muttered with a nod, trying hard not to frown. “It’s getting cold, though. I was hoping to leave and find somewhere not in a tent.”

  “Speaking of,” began Felicity, catching my gaze. “To make it easier for me to keep an eye on you, and to keep you out of the cold, we’re moving you into my cottage for the winter.” She flashed a tiny smile. “You’ll be able to keep Olive under control when I’m busy.”

  So full time babysitter, I thought. I didn’t mind, and so I just nodded. Olivia was a good kid, and despite her moments I doubted I would have much trouble.

  “We’ll go for a walk with these tonight,” she gestured towards the wooden poles, “but first I want to show you how to use them.” Felicity stepped backwards and set the crutches down outside before leaning into the tent, offering me a hand. I grabbed onto to it, unable to keep the grimace off my face as she pulled me to my feet. I stood in a crouch for a few seconds, and I tried hard not to slump back to the ground, but the struggle of standing up was far worse than staying up.

  “That’s a workout and a half,” I breathed, patting my throbbing leg as I moved into a full standing position, taking the few steps out of the tent before leaning against Felicity. My leg had begun to heal a lot faster than Felicity had anticipated, as we had discovered that most of the problem was the burns and a rather large gash in the back of my leg – it would have killed me had it been much deeper. The burns, however, weren’t as major as we had thought, but they were significant enough to make walking a struggle along with the wound.

  “It’ll get easier,” she said, moving around me and shifting the crutches beneath my arms. She moved my hands into place, and nodded. “Okay, now try walking with them, but instead of putting a lot of weight on your leg, put it into the crutch.”

  I did as instructed, hobbling a few steps forwards before I wobbled. I would have fallen if she had not caught me.

  “You’ll get used to them,” she murmured more to herself than to me.

  “I hope,” I said. “They aren’t very comfortable.”

  “It’s all we have,” she said. “By the way, I checked on your leg earlier. It’s getting better, a lot better than it was.”

  “Good, considering the whole infection scare last week,” I murmured, a shiver running down my spine both at the memory and the gust of air that blew around us. It was cold, and with the snow sticking to the ground and piling ever higher each night, it would only get colder.

  “It’s a good thing it wasn’t infected, sweetheart,” said Felicity, moving her hand to lightly pat me on the back. “Olive’s going to be with Dana and Tyson for a few hours.”

  “Who?” I interrupted, moving away from her hand.

  “Other people in the community,” she answered, narrowing her eyes. “As I was saying, she will be there for a few hours, so we might as well go for that walk now.”

  “Oh,” I said, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “Might as well.”

  Each step we took on our brief walk was met with trouble. I was far from used to the crutches, but each time I used my leg I threatened to tear the stitches. One thing that I had learned, however, was that my feet no longer protested with each step and my muscles no longer screamed in resistance. Instead, the only struggles and pain was the movement of my burned skin rubbing against my pants and the feeling of the crutch digging into my armpit.

  Silence dragged around us, the sound of our foot falls so much louder in the agonizing noiseless expanse around us. I wanted to talk, to break it, but I had no clue what to say or how to say it. Everything that came to mind, every word and every fleeting thought, all felt to be too personal, too much to ask – overstepping my boundaries.

  “There’s something on your mind,” burst Felicity, and I paused mid-step at her sudden words.

  “What?” I responded, shifting on my crutches to look over at her. She had stopped walking a step or so behind me and looked at me, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

  “Something is wrong and I want to know what.”

  What isn’t wrong? I thought, clenching my hands into a fist around the crutches. I wanted to say so much, spew words of anger about everything that happened and I wanted to learn about my father, my true father, and my mother and how evil she had been. I wanted to know the truth I had been denied.

  “I’m just thinking,” I answered with a brief shrug. “You don’t need to worry.”

  Continuing down our usual route, which was a winding path worn by dozens of feet that lead through the tents where the wounded and sick lay - most were not in use, but every so often one would be filled with a coughing citizen or a wounded hunter. I was the only one who wouldn’t be out within the week. Not long after the tents came the denser areas of the forest lined with wooden cottages, candlelight flickering in their windows, casting shadows across the snow laden forest.

  “Most of these buildings,” Felicity had stated, “were built by people in the community. With the cities full of infected and groups of people who would slit your throat for a day's meal, they decided to settle in here - away from the cities, from everything.”

  “It’s quiet,” I murmured as I listened to her statements. “I like it.”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Some days it seems like it’s never going to end, though.. the silence; it’s a sign of death - of fear. Silence is never a good thing unless we desire it.” She crossed her arms, eyes downcast and saddened.

  “I suppose,” I whispered, eyes widened. Her words were morbid and dark - I had never heard her speak in such a way. “But it’s nice for now.”

  “For now.” Her voice was soft, her eyes trained on the ground before her. Her eyebrows were pulled down, creases formed in her forehead. She was thinking, but what about?

  We walked again, a few minutes of silence filling the time before any of us spoke again. That time, I was the one with the questions.

  “Felicity?” I began and stopped a few steps behind her.

  “Yeah?” She stopped, pivoting to face me.

  “What do you know about the Raiders?” I paused, swallowing hard. “About my father?”

  “I know enough,” she responded, her voice slow and drawn out. She was hesitant to answer my questions.

  “Like what?” I continued, stepping towards her so that there was only a step and a half between us.

  “Things,” she stated. “Why?”

  “I want to know,” I answered, unable to keep myself from sighing. “I was lied to about everything… I just want the truth, or at least what little truth you can give me.”

  “He goes by Lovelock,” she breathed, giving her head a light shake. “I don’t think anyone knows his first name anymore.”

  “Lovelock,” I said, inhaling a sharp breath. My last name.

  “Yeah, only those closest to him can call him that. To everyone else, he’s the Prophet.” Felicity began to wring her hands, fingers movin
g in a constant pattern - a habit similar to that of Olive’s. “He offered salvation, a safe place. It’s why my family went with him, why so many believe in his horrid lies.”

  “He couldn’t have been the only person to claim that he could protect people,” I snorted in response.

  “He wasn’t, but he was the only true Man of God - he was a pastor before,” she started, turning away and taking a few steps away, hinting that we should continue our walk. “Now I don’t know if he’s just crazy enough to believe what he’s saying, or if he’s doing it to protect his ass.”

  “I have another question,” I said, glancing up at the sky as I followed suit. It was dark, cold - the sun was long gone and the moon was soon to take its place. I was grateful for the hoodie I wore.

  “Go on.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “It’s not every day that a ‘big flaming bird,’ as Olive put it, falls out of the sky.” Felicity gave a light laugh. “It crashed a few miles from here and it shook the ground so hard - I’m surprised you weren’t killed in the crash.”

  “Did you see anyone else at the crash?” I asked, hoping to hear about Neil and where he had gotten off to. Ever since I had first woken up I had wondered - but I didn’t worry or care if the old pilot was dead or alive, I just wanted reassurance that he wouldn’t be showing up any time soon with an entourage of Raiders ready to pluck me from the village.

  “There was an older man,” began Felicity, her voice low. “He was not alive when we found you.”

  “Good,” I said, clapping a hand across my mouth the moment the word left my mouth. I stared wide eyed at Felicity, astonished at my horrid response, and she bore a small grin on her face.

  “I take it he was no friend of yours.” she shrugged, gaze fluttering upwards. “It’s getting dark, we should head back.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That would be good.”

  “Before we go back, I have one thing to ask of you.” Felicity turned to face me, placing her hands on my shoulders and locking her gaze with mine.

  “What is it?” I shifted, uncomfortable under her intense gaze.

  “Next raider you see, I want you to go with them and I want you to kill Lovelock.” Her voice held no hint of a joke, her tone serious and gaze piercing.

  “What?” I swallowed, blinking, unable to tear my gaze from her. “He’s my father.”

  “No, your father was the man who raised you.” she said, gripping my shoulders tighter. “Lovelock is the man responsible for your parent’s murder and for the death of so many other innocent people.” “What if I can’t?” I chewed on my lip, staring at her.

  “You will make do with what you get,” she stated. “And you will do everything in your power to kill him.. or I’ll kill you.”

  I took a step back, away from Felicity, and sighed, my breathing shaky. “I… You’ve done so much for me, but is that even possible?” She never answered. A sense of exhaustion washed over me and the only thing supporting me then were the crutches tucked beneath my arms as we walked back in silence.

  Chapter 12

  Fourteen days passed slow and dragging but I no longer needed the support of the crutches to keep me up. I was slow and my leg still ached often - running was out of the question for some time. However, during those fourteen days, Olivia and I had spent most of the time together after I had been moved into their cabin. She told me about stories the older people of the village told, stories of the way the world was before she was born. It astounded her, and she had committed each one to memory.

  “Okay, Olive. Tell me the one about the ducks again.” I leaned back in the chair, the crackle of the fire burning in the fireplace the only sound aside from my voice. Felicity was out preparing for the party later in the day - it was the winter-born celebration day.

  “Miss Erica told me that ducks used to fly around all the time and that one time when she was younger, her Mum was driving her to school and she saw a long line of ducks crossing the road. She said that she ended up ten minutes late that day.” Olive laughed. “Oh, and she says that there was a store once called Duck. Guess what they sold there.”

  “I have to guess that they sold pancakes,” I said, grinning.

  “No!” Olive said in a dramatic voice. “They sold ducks!”

  “Really? I would never have guessed!” I chuckled, shaking my head and looking down at Olive, who was staring at me with her hair in her face and her green eyes staring up at me, a wide grin on her face.

  “I think it’s time for a haircut.” Reaching forward, I ran my fingers through her hair, messing it up. She pulled away and stuck her tongue out, crossing her arms as she tried to put on a furious expression.

  “You messed up my hair!”

  “Did I?” I gasped, faking shock. “I think it’s an improvement.”

  “Nuh uh! Is not!” she huffed, crawling up into my lap. She flumped down and exhaled a dramatic sigh, leaning against my chest.

  “Hey, Arin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Mummy says never to say this to people unless I really really mean it.” She paused and glanced up at me, eyes somewhat fearful.

  “So don’t tell her I did, okay?”

  “Tell me what?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. “I promise.”

  “That I love you.” she whispered, burying her face in the crook of my neck as she hugged me tight. I held her tight, speechless at her words. Aside from my mother and father, I had never been close to anyone like I was to Olive. Brushing my fingers through her hair, I pressed my lips to the top of her head and closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

  “I love you too, sweetheart,” I breathed, unable to keep the small smile that crept across my face at bay. One month - or longer, I had long lost count - had passed since I had met Olive and her mother, but in those few weeks I had formed a bond with Olive that I had with no other person. I didn’t see her as a sister like she was - I saw her as a child who trusted me, who loved me and in turn, I loved her.

  “Arin,” whispered a soft, familiar voice near my head, a weight lying on my shoulder. For a moment I lay still and remained silent before stirring, blinking a few times as my body began to wake from slumber. I surveyed the immediate area around, searching for the owner of the voice.

  Felicity stood beside me, her hand placed on my shoulder as she gave me a light shake. She held a small smile on her face and took a step back from me, dark brown gaze glancing at Olive, who lay curled up snoring in my lap, head rested against my torso.

  “Felicity,” I breathed, a yawn escaping me as I spoke. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize love,” Felicity replied with a shrug. “It’s time to get ready, though. Celebration dinner is in a few hours.”

  “Right,” I said with a nod, shifting within the chair and moving Olive. She let out a small groan, but did not stir from slumber.

  “Olive,” whispered her mother, crouched down beside her.

  “Olive, it’s time for the party.”

  “Mm.” Olivia murmured some incomprehensible words, squirming in my lap. Her green eyes opened, narrowed at the light that spilled in from the window. “I was sleeping.”

  “Yes you were but it’s time to go get ready or you won’t be going to the party,” stated Felicity as she stood up, arms crossed and gaze stern.

  “No! I want to go!” She then squirmed out of my lap, standing right in front of her mother, bouncing. “Please!”

  “Let’s go get ready. Do you want to wear the green dress or the pink dress?” Felicity grabbed her hand, giving me a smile as she took her daughter away.

  “Green!” she squealed as they disappeared into another room. I remained in the chair, waiting for them to finish. I glanced down at my own outfit – black leggings, a camouflage green tank top and a black hoodie – the same one I’d worn for the past while. It all fit, albeit a little tight around the hips, but it was the only thing Felicity had to spare. She, as well as a few of the other woman in
the community, had given me their spare clothes so that I wasn’t wearing the same dirty outfit for weeks on end.

  It wasn’t much later that Olive scurried out of the room without her mother, closing the door behind her. She turned to me with a wide, toothy grin and bounced towards me. She wore a pastel green dress dotted with white spots that fell down to just above her knees, a pair of white tights covering her legs. Around her waist was a ribbon, tied behind her back in a bow, and a white shawl covered her arms to keep her warm. Her hair, however, was a disaster – sticking out in a big ball of puff.

  “Do you like it?” she said, walking over to me and swaying where she stood.

  “I do like it, you look very pretty.” I answered as I stood off the chair and sat on the floor.

  “Good!” she grinned, jumping on top of me.

  “Oof,” I gasped as her weight landed on my stomach. Holding tight to her, I lifted my legs – cringing at the slight pain – and lifted her onto my legs. My arms were giving her most of the support, but her weight on my legs still caused me pain.

  “Am I flying?” Olive asked with a giggle, sticking her arms out at her sides. I grabbed hold of her torso, rocking back and forth to move her. My movements only made her laugh harder.

  “Yes,” I answered as Felicity exited the room she had been in – a bedroom, I figured – with a glower on her face. She was fixing her dress, which was on backwards I noticed, as she stomped towards us.

  “Olive, I’m not done!” she grumbled and swooped her from my grasp and into her arms. She didn’t even bother to look at me and I was thankful for that – she looked pissed.

  “I just wanted to show her my dress,” noted Olive, crossing her arms as Felicity carried her off to finish getting her ready. They continued to bicker, but I couldn’t make sense of their words and just remained against the floor, splaying out in a star fish position.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock.

  Minutes later and I still remained alone on the floor, staring at the door and awaiting the return of the two. Every once in a while, the door would open, but it would soon be closed with Felicity exclaiming something inside, followed by a frustrated groan.