by Black, D. S.
Zarina said: “Who do I look for?”
“A man named Rainmaker. A Native American. His face is gonna be burned badly. Saw it happen myself. I saved his ass. Now I know why.”
“So, he can give me the revolver?”
“Smart and rugged, girls.” Candy said, winking down at her glowing dead daughters.
Candy turned as if to leave, about to move back into the fog which had settled just behind her. She turned back. “One other thing.”
Zarina stared at this phantom of a woman and sensed her powerful gunslinger spirit. She wished she’d known her in the physical world.
“Anything,” Zarina said.
“Name the revolver Candy. Make sure my name lives on. Call me selfish, or egotistical, but I like the idea of me being remembered for something. Something good and positive. Tell the tale of me and my family. The Teaches, and how we fought the good fight till we died. Ask Rainmaker to fill you in on what he knows. I told him a lot. Just about all there was to tell.”
“You have my word.”
“I know I do, Huntress. Good hunting.”
A tear rolled down Zarina’s face as the woman and her girls turned and vanished into fog, remnants of a forgotten age never to be seen again.
2
Zarina woke with a jolt. Rising, breathing hard, tears running down her big flushed cheeks. The vision, the dream, whatever it was still lingered strongly in her mind’s eye. She could still see the faint impression of Candy and her girls as they reentered the fog, disappearing forever. Their leaving broke her heart; she felt alone and cold, although the night air was comfortable.
In the distance came a shout. Something was happening. The tents of the Mudcats suddenly became a beehive of activity.
Zarina saw Fernando running, shirtless, buttoning his jeans as he moved. She rose quickly, wanting to know what the commotion was about. She was fully dressed, rarely sleeping in anything less than what she needed if worst came to worse—a horde or the Militia. That’s the thought that went through her mind. Was it a horde, or was it the dreaded Militia? Had they finally discovered their secret base of operations, their encampment that thus far, had eluded the all and powerful Mountain King? Or was it a case of zombies? That was unlikely. As hungry, dangerous, and desperate as the dead were, navigating mountains at this elevation wasn’t easy for the best of legs, much less the unstable rambling legs of a decaying corpse; and if it was the Militia, how did they break her protection spell?
As she ran towards the noise which was intensifying, shouts coming from both directions—Fernando screaming something about keeping their fucking voices down and return shouts from what Zarina now knew to be one of the scouting patrol leaders Hector, Fernando’s little brother.
Zarina grabbed hold of one of the running kids, “What’s happened?”
“Don’t know, Zarina. Think Hector caught something, or someone from the sound of it.”
She let him go, and followed the running crowd of kids, who rushed towards the unfolding event like boys and girls rushing to get free toys. Something was definitely up, and Zarina needed to know. She’d come to respect these kids, especially Fernando and his inner circle, but they were still just kids. Kids prone to rushed and foolhardy choices. She’d never pretended to be a domestic mother figure to them, they’d all gone through too much. Surviving the worst kinds of situations and had still maintained order and humanity, but nonetheless, Zarina moved with her normal caution, hand on her pistol grip, ready for anything.
3
She pushed through the throng of children. She saw the cause of the commotion. Multiple people, their eyes bound, hands tied. One of them stood out above the others and even in the darkness, the flames of a freshly lit fire lighting his face, Zarina knew exactly who he was.
“Rainmaker! Speak, Rainmaker! Out of my way!” She pushed her way through. The child warriors moved to let her go.
Fernando looked at her. “You know these folks, Zarina? Hector found them close to camp.”
“Damn close! Closer than anybody has ever gotten! I’d have killed em, had the women not been with em. They can’t be Militia. No way. Not with armed girls part of their party.”
“A wise man! Now remove the blindfolds?” Rainmaker asked, smiling. A ghastly thing. His face looked like it had been splashed with acid. His jaw bone was visible, his skin melted. It still looked fresh. She imagined the pain was unbearable.
“Let them free!” She demanded.
Hector and Jose cut the ropes binding them and removed the blind folds.
“Thank you,” Rainmaker said looking directly at Zarina. “You must be Zarina. Wow! I expected…I don’t know what I expected, but not you. I have something to give you. Your young friends took it from me though.”
“Here’s what we took. Just weapons. I could keep this one…we could call it a tax, couldn’t we? Sure is nice.” Hector said, holding a large revolver he’d pulled out of his backpack.
Another man walked up. He had a kind face. His voice was educated, thoughtful, though rough and scratched from years of smoking. “If you like the gun, then why not try a practice shot.”
“Pinky’s right young man,” Rainmaker said, a sly smile itching the corner of the good side of his face. “If you can get a shot off, the gun belongs to you.”
Zarina’s gaze fell on the revolver. She felt compelled to reach out and grab it but forced herself not to; she knew what the men were doing. This was a demonstration.
“She’s loaded,” Hector said looking at the cylinder, then clicking it shut again. “Heads up!” He pointed the revolver, which looked overly large in his small hands, aimed towards empty tree line, and pulled the trigger.
Dry click. Nothing. Zarina smiled at Hector’s bewildered look. The gun should have fired. An ordinary revolver would have, but this gun only fired for one person.
Zarina walked over to Hector, and without asking, swiftly took the gun from his hands.
A loud gasp came from the crowd of children. The moment the gun touched Zarina’s hands, it turned bright blue like cold fire. A shock wave of energy started from Zarina’s wrist, went up her arm, then engulfed her entire body. Then it was gone. It only took a few seconds, but in that time, Zarina looked as though she was a shining blue beacon of power.
She aimed the gun in the same direction Hector had and fired. The report was loud in the early hours, sound waves bouncing off the rock walls around them. No one spoke for nearly a minute, all eyes on the bluish smoke coming from the barrel.
4
“What’s it mean? Zarina, you know these folks?” Fernando asked, breaking the lulling silence. The night was old, the morning sun soon to appear; the air was lukewarm. The thunder of the waterfall rumbled in the background. Somewhere an owl cried hoo.
“They were shown to me in a vision. A great warrior came to me, and told me this one,” she said pointing at Rainmaker, “would bring me this.” She held the revolver high for everyone to see. The gun no longer burned blue, but it still held their eyes with mystic interest. “Its name is Candy. This offers me the power to exist in both the living and dead realms. I can enter, to use the Militia’s words, ‘Dead Zones.’”
Low murmurs of wonder vibrated through the kids.
Rainmaker spoke: “She didn’t come to me in a vision. I saw how Candy died, and then she saved my life along with my friends. How she was able to exist in that form, I don’t know. How can we know anything about the world now? But I do know that it’s time to bring it all to an end. At least an end for us or the Militia. For far too long they’ve terrorized us all. They ran you kids into the mountains, forced you to adapt into child soldiers, most likely killed or enslaved your parents.”
“What are you suggesting?” Zarina asked.
“War! Simple as that. A full-on assault.”
“A what? You must have hit your head on the way up here or something mister, cause that ain’t even close to possible,” Hector said, an amazed look on his dark brown face.
“Let’s tell the truth, though. We have no clue what happened in Columbia. And we lost a lot of good people, and then even more after we came back to my farm,” Pinky said; a faraway sorrowful look on his face.
Rainmaker nodded. “Pinky’s right. Something aided us at Columbia, and maybe saying we defeated them isn’t completely true. Even so, this is our destiny, our mission; the only way forward. Don’t get me wrong, we could run, hide, try and meek out a life for ourselves far from here; but why? And do you think other regions are absent of cruel armies? Men who want to control and harm all those around them?”
Zarina listened to his words, taking them in, nodding in agreement. Her destiny was to return to Russia, to her Zlatoust village, find her family and see what remained.
But, this was their home. This was where her beloved Mudcats grew up, where their parents had died. This was where these people had to make their stand, live or die, success or failure, bleak and painful end, or triumphant victory. Running scared, hoping for something better wasn’t something they could do.
And she wasn’t about to leave them. Not yet. Her path was twined with theirs for the moment. She had to help them, and she knew exactly what she needed to do to give them a chance at victory.
She stood up, and all eyes fell upon her. “Rainmaker is right. There is only one option: fight. This is your home. Your land. It is your duty to stand against those who pollute your home with darkness. Live or die, doesn’t matter. We all live on the knife’s edge of dying every day, and yet, we keep living. It’s not how long you live, but how you do it. You can live it like the coward we sacrificed, crying and whining about how hard the New World is, or you can find the courage to walk to the gates of the Mountain King and demand a final fight, a solution to all this madness—either he wins, or you do.”
“Okay then! If you put it that way! I’m with ya!” Hector said, chest popped out, head held high.
Fernando spoke next. “You’re all right, but what about the white faces? Their powers? We’ve seen what they can do. I’m not afraid to die, but we gotta go about this with a plan.”
“Leave the white faces, the King’s Guard to me. I will meet them in their master’s land. I will hunt them to extinction,” Zarina said, her eyes locked on Fernando.
“You crazy witch! Hot damn!” Hector screamed.
“It’s suicide boys,” Pinky said joining the conversation. “Better to die though, than to live on like this.”
Zarina looked at Pinky. She saw a loss so profound, so troubling to his soul that he was resigned to seeing any strategy against the Militia through, no matter what the cost.
“Then it’s settled,” Rainmaker said, crossing his massive arms over his powerful chest. “We fight! We have nearly one hundred men back at camp. Plus, your Mudcats, that puts us—”
“Drastically outnumbered,” Pinky said, interrupting him.
“The only hope is surprise,” Zarina said. “Even then the odds are bad, but the option of running like scared mice is worse. Somethings are worse than death.”
“Have you scouted the Mountain King’s base?” Rainmaker asked, directing his question at Zarina.
“I have. I made detailed drawings and notes.”
“Then we got ourselves a real chance! Sneak up on em, and blast em!”
“Not that easy, Hector, so shut up. We gotta have a real plan,” Fernando said.
“I can help with that. I just need a few hours to study the intel you have,” Rainmaker said stepping up to Zarina, staring down at her like a giant. “And I need to know more about these ‘white faces.’”
Zarina looked up at him, stared into his dark hypnotic eyes, and even though he was badly scarred, face melted to the bone on one side; she briefly considered asking him to join her in a dark place in the woods, where they could do more than just study maps.
This was no time for sexual exploits though. War was afoot. A final battle between the Militia and what was left of human decency in this region of the world.
“I’ve seen the white faces throw men with their minds! They got powers! Like the X-Men,” Hector said, his eyes wide with excitement.
“You enjoy this too much kid,” Pinky said.
“Pinky’s right, but it’s good you’re ready for the fight,” Rainmaker added resting his hands on his hips. He grimaced in pain again.
He turned to Zarina. “Are you positive that gun will protect you? From the sound of it, you’ll not only be outnumbered, but also out powered… Meaning they possess something supernatural, which in this world seems to now be the norm.”
“What you call supernatural is merely an extension of the natural world. Before the Fever, the spiritual and other metaphysical phenomena existed just beyond your perception…At least, most people’s perception. To answer your question. Yes! I’ll hunt down the white faces. They are actually the King’s Guard, just so you know.” Zarina said, now staring up into the starry sky.
“Then I need to see your map and notes. It’s time to make a plan. The sooner we act, the better our—,” Rainmaker grimaced, eyes blinking open and shut, then stumbled, fell to one knee, both hands falling to the earth.
Pinky knelt beside him. “You need rest. You need to heal.”
Rainmaker panted painfully, unable to respond.
Pinky looked at Zarina. “He’s hurt badly. I’m amazed he’s made it this far. I gave him antibiotic and pain meds, but the shock to his system is catching up with him.”
“I…will…be…fine,” Rainmaker said, head down, breathing miserably.
All the kids looked at Zarina, waiting. She knelt and put her hand on Rainmaker’s back. “Yes you will, Rainmaker; but only after I’ve helped you.”
“Do you have more medicine?” Pinky asked, hopeful.
“Not medicine. I offer Magick. I can’t fix the way he looks; the scars will remain, but I can stop the infection and shock to his body and mind.”
Pinky stared at her. She looked back, her eyes glowing violet for a moment.
“Jesus. The kid wasn’t joking. You are a damn witch.”
“And a damn good one too, mister. Trust her,” Fernando said.
“Fernando, my bag please.”
“I’m on it, Zarina!”
He returned with a small leather satchel. She took it and opened it. She took out a folded white sheet, a box of mint, blue candles, incense, tiger stones and dry carnation petals.
“You keep this stuff on you?” Pinky asked.
She looked at him, “I made a point of gathering certain healing items after the Fever.”
“You sure you can help him?” Pinky asked, a look of worry on his face. He stumbled in his pocket and brought out a tin can. He clicked it open, removed a hand rolled cigarette, placed the tin back in the pocket it came from, then brought out a pack of matches from the other one. He struck the match on his fingernail, then lit the cigarette.
Zarina looked at him again. “Nasty things. Smoke it away from me; and yes, I can help your friend. The good thing about being with children is their faith comes at a much cheaper price than adults.”
Pinky stepped away, showing respect for Zarina.
She took a brush from her bag, along with a vile of blue paint. She dipped the brush, and painted the Eye of Horus on the sheet, then turned to Fernando. “Wrap him in the sheet and carry him to the pond. Lay him on the shore.”
“No problem. Hector, help me!”
Pinky came back over. “I need to quit those things anyway. Here boys, let me help.”
They rolled Rainmaker over, he groaned. They laid the sheet under him and rolled him back on top of it. They each took a side, hoisted him up, and carried him over.
“Fuck! He’s a heavy bastard! Like carrying The Rock!” Hector said when they finally laid Rainmaker by the pond.
Zarina joined them. “Who is this Rock?”
“You don’t know
who The Rock is? Or was I guess… bet he’s dead now. Those Hollywood types probably all dead. Anyway it don’t matter, just a meat head wrestler turned actor.”
Zarina ignored the boy’s response, she began preparing for the healing ceremony. She laid the tiger stones around Rainmaker. She then put the blue candles on the stones.
Rainmaker’s breathing was shallow, haggard. He didn’t speak. He had fallen unconscious
She crunched the dry petals and dropped the remains over the stones. She then placed the mints on Rainmaker’s body.
She spoke something under her breath in Russian. The candles lit, and a rush of air rushed over Rainmaker’s body.
She then spoke loudly, circling his body.
“Oh Goddess of the sea, stars, moon, and the sun
Let the healing power begin
By earth
By water
May you hear this wish
It is with love I call upon your force
Oshun! Oshun! Oshun!
Mother goddess
The earth is my mother
And I am her child
Free and wild
Heal on the outside
Oshun! Oshun!
Heal within
The powers within myself
And the powers within Rainmaker
Land and sea
Sources of light and night
Sources of day and of earth
Oshun Ha Mi
I invoke you here
Heal Rainmaker’s body, soul, and mind
So mote it be
Oshun, Oshun, Oshun!”
A wild wind rushed the camp. They heard a scream all around them, carried on the wind. A thunderous crackle of lightning erupted above them, though no clouds were in sight. The pond boiled, steam rose, and waves of discord moved through it.
“What’s going on!” Pinky’s eyes were wide with uncertainty and fear.
Rainmaker’s body shook violently on the sheet. It glowed under him.
“Quickly! Pick him up, sheet and all! Throw him into the water! Now! Or he will die! NOW!” Zarina ordered. Her eyes blazed violet. Her face was bright with ancient and strange power.
