The Mountain and The City: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale

by Martinez, Brian

  I walk around it, keep away from it, watch it crawl. I remember a long time ago in the Real Times being that small. There was a word for it. A name. But that was a Real People name, not a name for Munies, and I don't think Real People names are the same as Munie names, and I shouldn't confuse anything I was with anything they are.

  Look at it. Filthy Munie with its pinkish skin and pinkish eyes. Take the Axe, finish it, chop it up. Throw it down the side of the Mountain with all the garbage.

  I lift the Axe up with my Axe Hand, both Hands, hold it above my Head. With the Sun on the Munie I can get a good look at it, see it for what it is. A Beast barely covered with rags, worn only to insult the memory of clothes. Munies don't need help staying warm, they are warm, all the time, just by being alive.

  Line up your shot. Swing.

  I draw a line in my head from the end of the Axe to the front of the Munie's face. I tense, ready to swing. Then I hear it.

  “No.”

  I check the Wood behind me, then to the side, looking for People, Real People who are watching and talking. I would like to see them, yes, that would be good, but not let them Inside. Not in the Trailer, they might let the Bastard Air in with them. But there aren't People, there are only trees in the Wood. I look at the Munie at my Feet, laying in the grass with its dirty fingers stretched out at me.

  It's very small, but even a small one can kill. All it takes is one rip in the Suit and the Bastard Air gets in. The Munie opens its dry lips and shows me its pinkish tongue and its grayish teeth. Then a sound comes out.

  “No want,” it sounds like, but I know it can't be.

  “What was that sound,” I ask.

  Again the same sound, small, like the squeak of a Rat Beast. “No want.”

  “Is this a trick? Open your mouth.” I hold the Axe to its throat. It opens up to let me see, almost as if it understands, but it's important to remember this is a twitch of instinct. There's nothing in there, not a machine or a speaker or anything like that, so I tell it to shut its mouth.

  “No trick,” it sounds.

  “Munies can't talk.”

  It studies me with its big, pinkish eyes, looking for my weakness, working out how it can kill me. A noise like “Munie” comes out of it.

  “That's you. A Munie, a dirty Munie. You can't talk and you can't understand what I say so stop trying to trick me.” I return to the Trailer and leave it to bleed, let it finish itself so I can come back and cut it up and throw it out.

  “Can talk.”

  “No you can't. I won't listen to this.” I go Inside and lock the Door and put up the Silvery Tape. Then I lay in the Bunk-bed and I wait.

  **

  It feels like one hour thirty minutes goes by but when I check the Watch I've been in the Bunk-bed for eight minutes nine seconds. I'm trying to go to sleep to let this pass but when my Eyes close I see the face of the Munie taped to my Eyelids. I think about how small it is, but I remember that I don't know anything about Munies or how they grow or how long they live so I can't say anything about that.

  I hear it moving out there, making that croak-croak sound the Munies sometimes do. I can't stand to hear it and I'm afraid if it keeps making that sound other Munies might come to see what's happening. They'll find a dying Munie. They'll find me and rip me apart. I take the Silvery Tape off the Door and go Outside and find the small Munie twenty feet from the Trailer. It holds its foot with hands painted in wet, dark filth. It sees me and starts crawling away faster.

  “Stop,” I tell it. “I won't kill you but you have to leave here. Go back to the City and don't return. If you return I'll use the Axe on you.” I hold out the Axe. It holds out its foot. “The blood,” I say, and I know it's right. It can't get far leaking like that and I don't want a trail of Munie blood leading up the Mountain to the Door. I don't like that the Munie is right. It's talking to me. I want it out of here, gone, I want to be alone again and not doing this. I should have used the Axe already.

  I throw the Silvery Tape in the tall grass next to it. “Wrap the foot.”

  **

  The Munie walks through the Wood, one bare foot and one Silvery foot. I follow it with the Axe and keep ten seconds of steps between us. I have to be sure it leaves and doesn't get lost and come back, or die and attract others. I'm surprised the Silvery Tape worked. I don't doubt the Tape, I doubt the idiot Munie that figured it out, hunched now and smelling at the air, the Bastard Air, like its okay to smell it, let it into the body. Two minutes forty seconds from the ledge, I have to choose: point out the City and turn around, or kill it.

  We clear the Wood. Thirty-two seconds from the ledge the Munie stops its limp walk. It turns its bulging eyes on me. “Hunter.”

  “That's what you are.”

  It sniffs. “Hunter.”

  I understand what it means and then I see it: the Beast has returned from the Wood, still hungry and ready to end the fight, thin and bristled and not scared. It comes quickly from the Trees with its fangs shaking in its mouth and its voice yelling in sharp bursts. The Munie puts its dirty arms out and swings them around, makes strange shapes in the air and croak-croaks. The Beast looks confused for three seconds. I wish I could run in those seconds but they aren't enough.

  The Munie is much smaller than me but it seems calm, scared but in control. We keep moving the way we were moving but backwards, faces to the Beast. “What do we do,” I ask. I'm angry I have to ask a Munie anything but I want to live. It doesn't answer, changes the way its arms move and that makes the Beast charge and attack it, I don't know why. Then I don't see it but it takes a sharp tool from its rags and cuts, wounds the Beast's side as it comes close and then the Beast cries out and falls heavy into the grass. Then it gets to its feet. It snaps at the Munie but the Munie shows off the tool, shows the Beast's blood to it.

  “No want.” Serious face, not scared. The Beast seems to understand this. It backs away and goes into the Wood and we don't see it anymore and don't hear it anymore but the Munie doesn't smile, because Munies don't smile.

  I look behind me and see we're at the ledge. Beneath are all the Garbage Bags I've thrown over onto the Steep, torn open on the sharp rocks and spilling rotten food and mixed with Munie bones.

  At the bottom of the Mountain, the City is awake.

  **

  If I squint my Eyes I can see movement down there; tiny figures in the streets, hunting, fighting over the carcasses of Beasts that roam into the City. That's why I'm smarter than the Beasts, and smarter than the Munies- I know to stay away from all life.

  The small Munie is poking at the Three-Legged Stand that lays in the dirt by the ledge. The Stand still holds the Long Eye I once watched the City with, making sure the City was calm, not coming closer. I would throw the Garbage Bags over and then look through the Long Eye for one, two hours, and return to the Trailer and feel safe. Those were early days, when I thought I might see Real People if I looked long enough.

  “Get away from that,” I yell. It jerks, frightened, scurries away. I pick the Stand up and plant it in the earth again, aimed at the City like it was before. The Munie cowers a little distance away, like it should. “This is mine, do you hear? Don't touch things you don't understand.”

  “No want.”

  “Good. You can't have it.”

  This is where I have to decide what to do with the Munie. Kill it or release it. It's smarter to kill, be done with it, make sure it's no more danger to me. It can tell others where to find me and I can't fight off an entire group of them. But I've been Outside too long and need to return to the Trailer before the light goes away. These are the colder days when the Sun becomes lazy. The Munies come out less at this time, which is good.

  I clap my Gloves to get the Munie's eyes, then point. “You know the way to your nest? The City is there, down the Mountain. You can see it from here.” Still crouched, fingers in the dirt, it comes closer, unsure of my movements. Then it looks out to the City and after five seconds nods its head. “Go and don't co
me back. The only thing for you here is my Axe, understand?”

  It slowly crawls over the ledge and descends the Steep, past the Garbage Bags and Cans infested with Winged and Wormy Beasts, past all I've done, and when its foot knocks a dry bone loose from the plastic, it looks back up at me like it understands.

  I look back.

  **

  I haven't used the Long Eye in such a time its a waste not to use it again, once, to try it. I hold it between the Gloves and put the Mask up to the small side and I pick a point far away and look at a group of Trees that have fallen over, one into another. I do this a few times, pick spots and look at them. I happen to find the Munie as it heads down the Mountain so I follow it, watch it descend. Its skills are impressive, even with the Silvery Foot slowing it, and it must be in pain, if Munies feel pain, but it gets around the dangers of the Mountain well. Better for me, let it leave fast and not return so I can forget it. The Munie leaves my sight a few times, hidden by the Trees, but it always shows again, and this happens for some minutes, and the last time it does it's entering into the border of the City, crouched low to the concrete.

  I leave the Long Eye to return to the Trailer, and I'm happy about this, but as I walk the Wood there's a picture taped to my Eyes. The small Munie had a strange look on its face when I told it to return to its nest, like it wasn't sure, or it didn't want to, or something like that but I don't know how to read a Munie if there's anything to read. After twenty-six seconds I go back to the Long Eye because I feel I need to know.

  I find the small Munie quick enough. With the Sun falling asleep it's the only thing down there sneaking through the streets, and I feel safer Out here seeing this. Time for the Munies to release their grip on the day and give it back over to me, and my Records, and my Watch, and my-

  Wait. Something else is moving in the City, something in a doorway. I see it now, a Munie, full size and disgusting like the others, and it moves toward the small one with purpose. Maybe it's family? What am I saying. Munies don't have families, I can't think of them like Real People.

  The small one sees the big one and I can tell this isn't family, isn't friend, the way it backs away and tries to run, and I'm frightened by how the big one chases after the small one, catches it, falls on it, and the small one kicks and hits but its too small and too weak. The big one is so much bigger and its acts are brutal. Then the big one drags the small one away by its foot, the Silvery foot, and I see it sniff at the foot and smell the blood under the wrap. I've seen that look on a Munie too many times, that hungry look, that terrible look.

  It drags the small Munie back to the door it came out of, a door in a building with a tall, pointy roof. Real People used to go into those buildings to talk to the God when the God was alive. The big one goes inside, then the small one dragged behind it, scratching at the ground with its dirty fingers.

  **

  I return to the Trailer, finally.

  This was the longest I've been Outside in a long time, ever since I found all the Supplies in that building. It was a safe building, had a fence around it with sharp metal at the top, but it was too close to the City so I knew it would always be in danger, always be sniffed and pushed at by the Munies, so I took all I could carry and brought it up and hid it in the Cavern, and I did this up and down the Mountain until there was no more to take, and I've lived on those Supplies since that night.

  I sit on the Chair, fall into it, tired and dizzy. I feel like sleep but it's dark out now and that means I have jobs to do, with the Silvery Tape and the Watch, and before any of that I have to shower, yes, have to do that, have to get clean. I stand when I feel better.

  Take the Silvery Tape off the Shower Door. Get in. Put the Silvery Tape on. Take the Suit off. Scrub.

  As the cold Alcohol touches my Skin I think of the way the small Munie fought off the Beast by the ledge of the Steep. I could see how scared it was by looking in its eyes. I didn't think Munies could be scared, but the Eyes don't lie, not about these things. That didn't stop the Munie from doing what it had to do, what it needed to so it could stay alive. I know what that's like, know it very well, the way of eating the fear and pushing it down into the Stomach where it can't be seen. I know it, and I guess that Munie knows it. Both of us know, but only the Munie moved.

  I finish the shower and dry with the Towel. Then I put the Night Eyes on my Face and turn them on, then put the Mask on, then the Suit, and I leave the Shower and go out the Door, into the Outside.

  What are you doing?

  Before I know it I'm walking through the Wood, then down the Mountain, going to the City with the Axe in my Axe Hand.

  **

  It's all rust, the Bridge, another way into the City. It's safer to go around, not follow the small Munie's trail which smells like foot blood to the others, and it wouldn't be smart to walk where they wander, excited, looking for food, sniffing in the dirt. They should all be asleep now, yes, curled in their nests of rock and rotted fur, but I don't live by what Munies should or shouldn't do. Munies are Beasts and Beasts can't be understood.

  Stay low. Stay quiet. Learn from the Munies, they get some things right.

  I cross into the City for the first time in two years one month seventeen days. The last time I risked this danger was to find Supplies, and I got hurt trying to travel further from the City, got attacked for it. It was a mistake to enter or escape the City then, it's a mistake now.

  The City is dark and quiet, green under Night Eyes, but green without them with all the plants growing in the streets, pushing out from cracks and snaking up walls and crawling in windows. Trees have burst from their dirt boxes and attacked cars. Tree Beasts too stupid to leave the City hide up in the leaves, peaking out now, knowing like me the nights are the safest, safest but never safe, and they watch me, watch one stupider than them, and I don't need Tree Beasts to tell me that.

  Walk around the bones. Don't look at them. Don't try to read them, figure out what they used to be.

  It's very different looking at the City through the Long Eye and walking through it. First is the smell, the smell that enters even through the Mask Mouth, and I trust the Mask Mouth to stop the Bastard Air but I still try to breathe lighter, don't take in too much of it. After the smell is the size. The tall buildings, the very tall ones, they stand like Beasts of sharp angles, feels like they look down and watch, the way the Trees in the Wood feel, and it's worse that they hold Munies in their dead bellies.

  A sound of danger explodes behind my head and I panic and my chest feels like it will burst, and I turn and find a group of Leatherwings flying out of a big, long car and away, a bus is the name, I think. They flap-flap away into the night, hunting smaller Winged Beasts. I scared them, and they scared me, and I feel better that it wasn't a Munie but I fear the sound may have woken some up.

  Relax. Listen. Move. Study the buildings and find your way through.

  I find the nest I'm looking for.

  **

  Back in the Real Times I had a mother. This isn't a surprise because everything has a mother, that's what life is, but I don't think of her now, not because I can't remember her or because I don't like her, but because I do remember her and I do like her, and to think of those things, the Real Times, makes everything worse. My mother is why I'm alive now. Not just the birth but after that, too, when the Bastard Air came, and what she did, and I don't like to think about that, what she had to do.

  My mother, I think of her now because she said something. She said, “Remember what you're lucky to have, always. But remember them especially on the bad days, the days when they're all you have.”

  I'm thankful for this Axe. I'm thankful for this Mask and this Suit. I'm thankful that Munies don't close doors, they ignore them, so that I could walk in here quiet and not wake them, let them stay Inside their noisy sleep.

  I stand by the door and I listen to the nest. Breathing from all the walls. Long chairs fill the middle of the room, long enough for ten people to sit on but most of them
have been knocked over and pushed in and broken up to make a circle on the ground. All the way at the other side there's a higher part of the room and a window behind it, a very large window made of all the colors I've ever seen, and out of those colors a picture, a picture of the God, I think, but I'm not sure because I've never seen it.

  Walk. Stay quiet. Keep the Axe up. Breathe like you're not breathing.

  Munies sleep in the corners. I count three, huddled in piles of garbage and kill. I think they do this to show the others what they can do, to show they should be left alone, not attacked, but I'll never really know why a Munie does anything, not really, and not now. I leave them alone and go to the middle, to the long chairs, where I know I'll find them.

  The two lay Inside the circle of long chairs, the small Munie tucked under the arm of the big one, both sleeping, and now I know it's true, what I believed. The large one is the largest of the group. Not the leader, Munies don't believe in leaders any more than they believe in anything, but they do fear the largest and give it room and let it take what it wants. Tonight it wanted the small one- for warmth now, for food tomorrow. The Munies, they've always disgusted me, they always will. I think the God wouldn't like what sleeps in its place, but I don't know because I've never met it.