New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

  The shanty is still the same as when I first inspected it, but now I notice the signs of the boy living here. The wood stacked in the hearth ready for the evening fire, the full water jug, and cooking pot. I should’ve seen all that earlier, I think. I’m going to have to pay attention from now on so as not to get caught unawares again. I might not be as lucky the next time.

  The boy goes to the wood chest at the foot of the only bed in the one-roomed shanty. He opens it and pulls out a long metal and wood object, and I know it right away. An iron shooter. He turns and starts waving it at me, and my heart jumps into my throat.

  “Shizen! Give me that,” I say and yank it out of his hand before he can shoot it at me. “You gotta be careful with these things, boy. Don’t you know anything?”

  “What is it?” he asks, ignoring my harsh words.

  “It’s called an iron shooter,” I say, looking it over. It’s in much better shape than Grada’s. It’s oiled up real nice and not a bit of rust on it. I check to see if there are any slugs, and sure enough, it’s missing just one.

  “See here, these are lead slugs. They’re what come out of the shooter and does gods-awful damage to critters … and people.”

  He nods solemnly. “Aye, I seen what it done, to my ma and pa and the others.”

  His eyes drop down to stare at the floor, and I can feel his pain in my own heart. Judging from my past couple of weeks, I reckon Finn’s had his share of night terrors too.

  “So the man you said Cat killed, you sure it was a real man? For sure?”

  He nods at my question. “I seen ‘em. They were men all right. Was only luck me and Cat weren’t here when they showed. We were out explorin’. I heard what I figured to be a storm comin’. Next thing, I hear yellin’ and … well, funny poppin’ sounds. Cat knew something was wrong. She started hightailing it back here. I ran after her, I did! But then I saw the metal monsters and I … ”

  He goes real quiet and hangs his head in shame. “I hid. I could see my pa and Unk fightin’ ‘em. Ma, she was screamin’. I wanted to help. I did … but … ”

  He don’t even try to stop his tears this time. They run down his face, leaving twin streaks through the dirt and drip from his chin. I feel real bad for his hurt, and I fight against the lump building in my throat. I lay my hand on his shoulder.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t be ashamed ‘cause you hid. There wasn’t nuthin’ you could have done. You would have been killed or taken. You did right by hidin’. That’s what your folks would have wanted you to do,” I say.

  He looks up at me through his tears. His eyes are red and swollen, and his pale skin speckled with rosy blotches. “You being truthful?” he asks.

  “Aye,” I say. “Cross my heart. And if it makes you feel any better, I hid from ‘em, too.”

  I figured I wouldn’t mention it was ‘cause of Grada knocking me out with the cooking pot and throwing me in the cellar. He didn’t need to know that much. He sniffs for a bit and wipes his nose with his sleeve. He sniffs again but don’t cry no more.

  “Cat tried to stop ‘em. She chased ‘em, but we were too late,” he says, his voice filled with guilt. Poor kid. No doubt he’s been beating himself up over it ever since it happened, thinking what he could have done to stop it. Like me. For the first time since it all happened, I don’t feel so alone in my grief or my anger. It’s comforting somehow to know that they were just men and not monsters like I had first feared. And that they could be killed—had been killed—by the beast. Maybe I had misjudged the devil cat. Maybe she ain’t so bad after all.

  I lay the shooter back in the chest. I don’t want to look at it or touch it anymore. Just holding it is making me queasy, thinking about what it done to Finn’s kin and what others like it had done to mine. Even the touch of it makes me feel strange. The boy watches me, his cheeks still wet from his crying.

  “Are you gonna camp here tonight?” he asks unexpectedly, and his question is tinged with hope.

  I shrug. “If you like,” I say. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind stayin’. I gotta hunt though. My food’s all gone.”

  He brightens instantly. “No need for huntin’. Cat’s real good at catchin’ rabbits and dirt dogs. We were out huntin’ before you showed up. Got us a nice, fat rabbit. Only thing is though you got to give her the innards … that’s her favorite part.”

  I look over at the black beast now lying halfway in the shanty door so as to keep a watchful eye on Finn, her head resting on her massive paws.

  “Cat can have whatever she wants,” I say. I sure ain’t gonna argue with the she devil.

  After stuffing ourselves on boiled rabbit, we talk long into the evening. I tell Finn all about Rivercross. About Grada and Ben and everybody. Feels real good to talk about ‘em, like somehow they’re still with me. I talk and talk and talk … I cain’t stop. I talk about me and Ben as young’uns and growing up together and all the things we done. I tell him about Grada finding and rearing me and how he was so good to me. I talk about Thomas’s spook stories and Miz Emma’s berry bread. I don’t know why, but the words just pour out of me. I talk about everything and anything. Finn just listens and laughs at times, but he don’t interrupt. It’s as if he’s just happy to be listening to another person’s voice. Finally, I tell him about the monster men coming and how they took Ben and Jane and young Thomas and how I got to go find ‘em. He ain’t heard of Littlepass neither. I reckoned as much—him being a young’un and all.

  When I’m all talked out, its Finn’s turn. He tells me all about his kin that he lost … his ma and pa, his pa’s brother and wife, and his grada. They all lived here together. Unlike my village, the monster men didn’t take nobody ‘cause Finn had been the only young’un here, but they had still killed the rest. He asks me why they done it.

  “I dunno why,” I say. “Some men are just born with darkness in their hearts, I guess.”

  It’s the only reason I can give him, but he seems to accept it. He goes on to tell me about how he remembers once living in a bigger village with lots of other young folk to play with, but for some reason his kin up and left that place and settled out here in the sand lands. He don’t know why; he was never told the reason. He said he remembers being real lonely ‘til one day, his pa was out hunting and found a dead devil cat. It was tore up real bad. His pa couldn’t say what had done it, but he heard some gods-awful bawling coming from under it. Sure enough, the she-cat had a cub, all curled up underneath her and trying to feed from its dead mama. Finn said his pa had too kind a heart to kill it or leave it to die, so he brought it home. His grada had taken one look at it and wanted to kill it, but Finn had a fit, he says, and of course, he got his way. The cub was his, and well, he reared it ever since.

  “Me and Cat’s family now, ain’t we, Cat?” he says.

  The beast looks up at her name but just yawns, showing her wicked-looking teeth. It still makes me shiver. But Finn assures me I ain’t got nuthin’ to fret about. He says Cat is the best protection, better than any crossbow or iron shooter. For him, maybe. For me, well, I ain’t so sure. I still didn’t want to be alone with her. I’m in no hurry to find out how good of a meal I would make.

  The boy yawns too, and I’m surprised to see how low the fire is. It ain’t nuthin’ but glowing embers … must be real late. I feel kind of bad, but I take Finn up on his offer of the bed while he takes to sleeping in front of the hearth. He don’t mind, he says. Cat makes for a real soft pillow.

  After weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, the bed feels like lying on a cloud. It don’t take long for my mind to shut down, and I drift off. I don’t rightly know if it’s the soft bed, the boy’s company, or the protection offered from the devil cat, but for the first time since leaving Rivercross, the night terrors don’t come and I sleep.

  “Finn, you ain’t comin’ with me, and that’s that!”

  We’ve been arguing since the sun come up. For some reason, the boy has decided he’s to go with me to Littlepass, and I cain’t get him to
change his mind. When he made up his mind about this, I ain’t sure, but he’s like a hound with a bone. He’s not giving up on it.

  “Why would you want to leave here? You have food, shelter, water, Cat to keep you safe. You’re just being foolish,” I say for about the fifth time.

  “I’m going with you, and you cain’t stop me,” he says. He’s standing in front of me, his feet planted apart on the ground, and his hands on his hips. His face is about as red as his hair, but it ain’t got nuthin’ to do with the heat of the day. And the look on it … well, it kind of makes me want to laugh, but I don’t dare. It’s a real stubborn, mule-headed look, and for some reason it kind of reminds me of Ben, though they don’t look the least bit alike.

  “And I’m tellin’ you again, it’s too dangerous. I dunno what I’m gonna find in Littlepass. Shizen, I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it to Littlepass. I could get killed by raiders or eaten by critters today, tomorrow. Anything could happen.”

  I’m losing patience with the boy. I just want to get back on the road. After my night’s rest, I feel full of energy and renewed. Even my feet have healed up good, calloused and hardened. I just want to fill my water skins and head out. Feels like I’ve wasted enough time already, and I need to move quickly to make up for it. I believe the longer I stay here, the further and further Ben is moving away from me. But Finn’s not giving up.

  “Then that’s why we should go with you, to protect you. Cat’s real good at protectin’. She’ll keep you safe from any old raiders or critters.”

  “Aye, she probably could,” I say. “But then what? Say we make it to Littlepass. What then? We just gonna walk right on in with a full-grown devil cat trailing behind us? ‘Oh, don’t run and get your axes or bows, folks; she’s a real nice devil cat. She only ever ate one person, and he well deserved it.’ Is that what you’re gonna say to ‘em? They’ll kill her before you get two words in, they will.”

  I know I’m being mean, but I’m trying to make the boy understand.

  “You don’t know that,” he says stubbornly.

  “Aye, I do,” I say, putting the cap back on the water skin. I’m done with the conversation. I concentrate on checking my slingbag to make sure I ain’t forgetting anything.

  “No, you don’t!” he yells and knocks the water skin right out of my hand. I look at him, surprised by this outburst. He crosses his arms over his skinny chest and sticks his chin out, looking at me all defiant. I start to get angry. That certainly wasn’t called for. But before I can say anything, his chin starts to quiver and he chokes out, “Please, Tara, don’t leave me here. I don’t wanna be alone anymore. I cain’t stand it. Let me go with you, please. Please, Tara?”

  Oh gods. My heart twists at his plea. I don’t need this. I don’t need or want to be looking after some skinny little runt who will undoubtedly slow me down. And traveling with a devil cat … well, nuthin’ like drawing attention to yourself. No, absolutely not, I think.

  “Please,” it comes out as a whisper, and one single tear escapes and rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away angrily. I look at his pleading face. I mull his words over in my head. I sigh, pick up my water skin, and dust it off.

  “I’ll be leavin’ shortly,” I say. “You best be ready. I ain’t waitin’.”

  That stupid grin nearly splits his face. He starts to scamper off but changes his mind and runs right for me instead, wrapping his scrawny arms around my waist.

  “We’ll be a real good help, you’ll see. Me and Cat. We’ll hunt and protect you real good,” he says and then runs off again, to collect his things I reckon.

  I watch him go, shaking my head. What have I just agreed to? Letting the boy and beast go with me is just asking for trouble. I can feel it. I glance over at the cat. The whole time we had been arguing, the critter had lain real content in the shade of the shanty, not the least bit interested. Now, she’s watching me intently with her red eyes as if she knows what decision has been made. I stare back at her.

  “Don’t make me sorry for this,” I say. She blinks at me. “And for gods’ sake, if you get hungry durin’ the night, don’t eat me.”

  In response, Cat snorts at me, shakes her head, and the blue tongue I remember so disgustingly well pokes out to lick her lips as if saying, “I ain’t making no promises.”

  Gods help me, I think.

  We set out: the boy, the beast, and me. I couldn’t have imagined more unlikely traveling companions if I tried. But Finn is true to his word. The critter does all the hunting and provides for us every meal. We never go hungry. Whether its rabbit, dirt dog, or some crow unlucky enough to have landed when it shouldn’t have, Cat supplies us with food. And I’ll never admit it to Finn, but it’s real nice not having to worry about hunting. As for the boy, he don’t even complain about all the walking, not once. He don’t shut up neither though. He talks so much it finally just sounds like buzzing in my ears. Funny thing is I find I don’t mind. It keeps me from thinking about other things and worrying about stuff I got no control over. As far as traveling companions go, they’re all right.

  We’d reached the tree line about six days past and had been walking in the woods since. Didn’t have much of a choice but to go through ‘em. The tree line is massive, as spread out as far as the eye could see. Would have been foolish and a waste of time to try and go around. Plus, our easterly course is straight through, and I’m not willing to veer off course.

  I ain’t used to trees this size. It was a little overwhelming at first. The biggest trees in Rivercross only grew to your waist, but these trees tower over us. Their branches and leaves block out the sun and keep some of its heat offa us. Would have been kind of nice if it wasn’t for the smell of death and rot coming from the wood. Most of the trees are sickly, their bark gray as ash and their leaves dry and withered. A lot of them are just snag trees: dead, half-fallen over into each other, and blocking our way. Slowing us down. We try not to stray too much off our path, but sometimes it cain’t be helped. Cat scouts ahead of us at times. We lose track of her for a bit but never for too long. All it takes is for Finn to give two short whistles, and she’s back, checking on him. She brings an occasional tree rat or crow, but there ain’t a lot of game in these dead woods. There ain’t a lot of anything but stillness and quiet. It rattles our nerves. Even Finn, who ain’t shut up for days, talks a might quieter now and less often the deeper into the woods we get. It’s as if he don’t want to disturb any ghost or demon that might call this wood home. It spooks me something fierce.

  The evening dusk is coming on us fast. It always comes earlier in here. The shadows are getting longer and darker, making our minds play tricks on us. Making us see shapes and things we know ain’t really there. We need to make camp soon. There’s no way either of us wants to be walking these woods after dark. We need a fire which thankfully don’t pose no problem nowadays. The one good thing these dead woods did have to offer was plenty of fire kindlin’.

  We enter a small clearing big enough for a campfire and for us to stretch out our bed rolls. I stop walking and glance around. Finn stops beside me.

  “Here?” he asks.

  “Aye,” I say. “This’ll do.”

  We have it down to a routine now. While I get the makings of our fire together, he clears the ground for our beds, lays out our blankets, and gets the water skins out. He even lays out the iron shooter. I didn’t know he’d brought it along at first. Cain’t rightly say I would have let him bring it had I known. To me, it’s just a reminder of the evil men it had come from. But now, after being in these damn frightening woods for days, it’s almost comforting to have it so handy.

  We work in silence, and it ain’t long before I got us a nice flame burning, chasing away some of the shadows and keeping them at bay. Finn joins me at the fire and hands me a water skin. It’s almost empty. With the three of us drinking now, the water is being used up a lot faster, but there ain’t no way I’m tapping any of those trees for water. The thought of drinking from somethin
g so sickly don’t feel right. We cain’t chance getting sick. We’ll just keep looking for a water supply. I figure there has to be something here.

  I pull the remaining crow we cooked last evening from my slingbag and share it between us. Cat ain’t nowhere to be seen. I reckon she can fend for herself tonight. Finn takes his and starts chewing, staring into the flames.

  “How much longer you think these woods will last, Tara?” he asks eventually.

  “Dunno,” I say, biting into my own crow meat. It’s tough and hard to chew, but it’s all we got.

  Finn keeps eating, all quiet like, then he asks, “How long you think it’s gonna take us to get to Littlepass?”

  “I dunno that either,” I say. Why’s he asking me questions I don’t know the answers to? I wonder.

  “What do you think we’re gonna find when we get there?”

  “Do I look like some kind of seer?” I snap at him. “I dunno. Maybe we won’t find nuthin’ or nobody ‘cause sickness done took ‘em all. Or maybe the monster men came and killed all of them, too.”

  Don’t know why his questions are bothering me so. Maybe it’s the frustrating, endless walking, the endless heat, the little food, and the even less water. The not knowing. Everything I guess. But his questions are getting to me, and I don’t know how to answer them.

  Then I look at his face. His eyes have gone all big and round at my cruel words, and his mouth is hanging open so as I can see his half-chewed food. I feel real ashamed at my actions, and I think to myself, He’s just a little boy, Tara. A scared little boy just lookin’ for some comfort.