Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “That’s why we have to go salvaging into the city. Mediators do it all the time.” Doogan stripped a lock of strawberry blond hair from her forehead and gazed into her compelling violet eyes. “We’re beginning from scratch and the weather isn’t cooperating.”

  “Instead of carting materials and stuff from there,” she said, “wouldn’t it be easier in our present situation to travel and live in the city?”

  “We could,” said Horatio. “But, do you value your life?”

  Her fingernails dug into Doogan’s arm. “Is it really that dangerous?” Appearing wary, she said, “I didn’t think there were survivors in the city.”

  “Very few.” Doogan left the arms of his wife to shrug on his coat. “But they turned into indigenous hellions from what my father tells me.”

  “Is my son spreading rumors about me?” A charismatic voice boomed into the cave. An imposing giant of a man swaggered into view and heads turned to his overwhelming presence. “Ah...my son and his wife have finally made an appearance. I was just coming in to shag your derriere, Doogan. We should’ve left an hour ago.” Fulvio bore a resemblance to a husky bear. Garbed in fur, his more salt than pepper hair brushed back covered the nape of his neck and a hint of a smile was detected under a thick mustache and beard.

  His eyes, a darker gray than Doogan’s, wandered merrily over those assembled. “The sun is on the rise, no time to waste. I may have overdressed for the mission, though.” He shoved the fur coat off his shoulders, exposing a girth tucked neatly into a wide leather belt. “This weather’s fickle. One minute it’s a white out and the next the sun is beating down on us.”

  He let the exemplary coat fall to the ground next to a colossal mound of bluish-brown pelts. “Tibbles, time to wake, my friend.” He nudged the colossal mound with two hands. “He gets extremely sleepy in the winter, but it’s not really winter, not yet.” When nothing moved, he said louder, “Tibbles, get up.”

  The mound jittered, as the fuzzy pelts seemed to lazily unfurl, shaping into a behemoth beast of a bear. He swayed upward and Fulvio backpedaled giving him room. It sounded like a vicious roar, but those standing round knew Tibbles hearty yawn of awakening. Large paws rubbed beady black eyes while his tongue smacked the roof of his mouth.

  “No hibernating this season, my friend.” Fulvio inserted his thumbs over his belt. “We’re splitting up today.”

  He paused as men and women straggled into the cave to listen to his orders. A sight of eclectic bodies that Keeyla and Doogan were getting accustomed to. Though, today people sheathed much of their mutations with heavy capes of woven blankets and bedraggled coats.

  A man leaned onto the cave wall, the skin on his face textured like spackled granite and wiry spikes for hair. Another man named Clayton had striped skin of white and black, even down to his fingernails. A gaggle of toothless and one-eyed people walked in, also folks supporting additional legs and arms, or missing arms and legs, hobbling in on crutches, or being carried in on stretchers or in people’s arms.

  A teenager named Gus warmed himself by the fire, holding out three arms. Well on his way of growing over six-feet, slim, yet tough looking, and brownish-red hair swept past his shoulders that glimmered in the light.

  “We need room in Smelt’s wagon to carry needed supplies. So Smelt...” Fulvio turned looking for the named man. “Smelt. Are you here? Where’s Smelt?”

  “I’m here, Fulvio. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Smelt’s oily dark hair was tied into a low-slung ponytail. The man’s hawk-like nose twitched as he pushed hands into his waistband, tucking in his shirttails. “We best be going. I plan on being out of the city before sunset.”

  “Ennis and Doogan—” Fulvio’s reliable eyes sought the young men. “You’ll fly in the heliocraft. I want you boys to head north. Search for the valley I’ve been telling you about before meeting us in the city.” He gauged Ennis; it had been a mystery as to why the man betrayed the peacekeepers to pursue a new settlement. He’d been a strict Mediator, but told Fulvio he’d been adverse to the laws in Tallas and his sense of justice. Now Ennis was one of them—a traitor. “From above you can search for fuel and water and it would be excellent to find usable trucks.”

  Ennis, with his arms sunk into his pants pockets, listened to the exchange.

  “Smelt, Horatio, and Gus will ride the buckboard,” Fulvio continued. “I’ll be riding Zennith and we’ll meet at the outskirts of the city. All agreed?”

  Keeyla, standing idly by noticed her friend, Tanya, snaking through the congregation. Her spindly hair was somewhat tame today as she made for the fire. Keeyla’s eyes wandered over and between bodies, looking for her son, Fabal, and then walked toward Tanya. “Are the kids still outside playing in the snow?” she asked.

  Tanya turned with a questioning brow. “I thought they were with you, in here.”

  “Fabal wanted to be here before the salvaging party left.” Keeyla gave the cave a once over before striding to Doogan. “The kids aren’t here.”

  “Leave them be.” He stared at her mouth, remembering her taste. “They’re probably having a snowball fight or something.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” She placed a hand over her chest. “Fabal’s been begging Fulvio to take him with the party. That’s all he talked about last night. He should be here.”

  Taking them by surprise, the oversized bear leaped up on two legs and roared, this time not a yawn, but a warning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Swan screamed, a high-pitched soprano, spearing through the woodlands, waking the dead.

  His hands quivering, Fabal shot another rock, thwacking the beast’s arched spine. The wolf’s head reared upward and his lips curled over glinting fangs. Salivating goo dripped from the wolf’s lower jaw, its red eyes blazed.

  Caged between the beast’s sturdy legs, it appeared Knox was attempting to shift and buck. What stopped him? Possibly the shock of spiky teeth stabbing his shoulder and the whiff of wet dog. Like a piece of meat on a hook, his body was tossed. The sound of cracking bone made Fabal recoil.

  Only thinking of saving his friend, Fabal jumped from his perch. He landed sidesaddle on the black wolf. Snaring his arms around the wolf’s hirsute neck, he shunted a leg over his spine to get a better grip. Hanging on like a nettling leech in hopes of deterring the beast from eating Knox.

  The wolf’s head arced sideways, its maul snapping at his intrusive rider. He bucked and leaped like a dog chasing his tail. In the meantime, the lone brindle wolf was gaining momentum, climbing the tree trunk toward Swan.

  Swan worked on a tree branch, twisting and pulling it from a major limb. Her left arm linked a branch above her while tucking the splintered branch beneath her right arm like a jousting rod.

  “Die you freak!” She thrust the branch at the wolf, poking the creature’s sensitive nose. She sloped frontward for a marked assault and rammed the branch into the wolf’s mouth. Instead of causing damage, the wolf clamped the branch and yanked.

  From the edges of his vision, Fabal saw shimmery pale hair flagging in the air. “No—!” He dislodged a cry over the lump in his throat. Swan’s petite body fell.

  No movement. No signs of life.

  Fabal buzzed with adrenaline. Fighting for survival, he pummeled the wolf’s neck. The stunned wolf sprang left and Fabal fell right. Horizontal, lying on his back in the snow, a snotty snout pressed into his face. Fierce red eyes glowered and a profound rumble generated from somewhere within the beast. The wolf’s large jaws parted, exhibiting strings of dribble.

  A menacing thunder eclipsed the area as Tibbles charged, downing saplings like a hurricane. The brindle was first to attack him, disregarding his little girl prey. Razor-sharp fangs latched onto the bear’s meaty hind leg. Tibbles growled and rolled, driving them into a vortex of fur.

  The black ash leering over Fabal stalled. His eyes cut to the crescendo of snarls and chomping jowls.

  Tibbles managed to achieve a foothold, standing erect. His powerful
paw clobbered the brindle, conveying him into a tree trunk. A noxious snap ricocheted as the wolf’s vertebra snapped.

  On a lethal course, Tibbles charged toward his next victim. The black wolf stepped off of Fabal, narrowly missing his mortal assault. The speedy wolf raced into the woodlands with a hotter than hades bear in pursuit.

  Following for a short distance, Tibbles put on the brakes and rotated to the children.

  His heart skittish, Fabal propped up onto his elbows. His eyes gliding over the trampled ground washed in blood. Swan lifted her head and looked at him. He sighed, the heavy weight in his chest subsided. Coming to his senses, he couldn’t scamper fast enough to an inert Knox.

  Knox’s body appeared twisted; blood leached into crystalized snow, melting on impact. Fabal felt, rather than saw, the presence of Tibbles looming behind. He was afraid. Afraid his new buddy was dead. A whimpering Swan crawled toward them. He bent close to his friends face, and light as a feather touched Knox’s cheek, hoping for a response.

  Strident thumping through packed snow was heard and they cranked their heads toward the noise. An abnormal sized stallion trotted into view. A muscular chest of sinew convulsed as Fulvio reined him in. And trailing the stallion, an extra-large pony, Gingersnap, and riding bareback was his dad, Doogan.

  Both men dismounted and ran to them.

  “Knox, my dear boy.” Fulvio dropped to his knees, trenching snow.

  “Fabal, out of my way.” Doogan tenderly administered to Knox, feeling for broken bones.

  “Is he alive?” Fabal asked, his eyes puddling.

  “He’s breathing.” Doogan split open Knox’s eyelids. “We better get him home.” He scooped the boy into his arms and held him firmly to his chest.

  “Take Zennith and I’ll ride Gingersnap,” Fulvio insisted. “Zennith, would you mind.” At his command, the stallion bent his front legs into the snow to make it accessible for Doogan to mount. “Zennith, you know what to do. Fast and smooth.” As if the horse fully understood, his substantial neck bobbed. “Tibbles and I will bring Fabal and Swan back home.”

  Without speaking, Doogan rearranged Knox over the saddle, then glanced at his son’s grieving face before Zennith turned for home.

  In haste, Fulvio ferried a sobbing Swan and lifted her atop of Gingersnap.

  “Be careful, she fell out of the tree,” Fabal said. “My dad has to check her over too.”

  “Sorry, Swan.” Fulvio patted the girl’s knees. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “I’m okay, just sore. The snow cushioned my fall. I’m worried about my brother.”

  “Doogan’s a brilliant physician. He’ll know what to do,” Fulvio reassured her. After a cursory glance over the blood-soaked scene, he saw the two dead wolves. “It’s a shame to waste edible meat. They’re much too large for Gingersnap to haul, but possibly Fabal and Tibbles might be able to carry one?” His gaze sought the bear with a questioning eyebrow. Tibbles growled a reply. “Fabal, help me.”

  Tibbles spread himself on the ground while they lugged the carcass of a lone wolf over his shoulders. “Fabal, hold on to that meat,” Fulvio said. He mounted Gingersnap behind Swan. “I’ll see the two of you at the homestead.” They cantered off, leaving them to handle the goods.

  Tibbles, still wallowing in subzero snow, waited for the boy to clamber onto his back. Fabal fanned his hands in front of his nose. “Yuck,” he said, “this thing stinks.” The bear swished his head, agreeing. Manipulating an arm hold on the wolf, he knotted his other hand into Tibbles pelt of blue fur. “Ready.”

  The bear rose on four legs and lumbered for home. Dainty falling snowflakes glittered in the early morning brilliance like miniscule luminaries until they crossed the verge of superior conifers. Then encased by pine boughs, a remote, aggrieved howl slithered through the thicket, quilling Tibbles fur.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As Paniess scurried from Goshen’s cottage over the vegetable and berry fields, the previous darkness that had shielded her covert ploy was beginning to disperse. Shredding black clouds revealed swatches of a birthing new day.

  Not dawdling, she jogged all the way home, pausing a few times to scour the area for patrols. Rooney would be safe if caught. Being a physician had its advantages, he could easily explain his meanderings as checking on a patient.

  She was the Elites daughter. Didn’t she have the authority to come and go and do whatever her heart desired?—potentially and resentfully no. If the Mediators caught her sneaking around, her father would be informed. And she’d learned that lesson many moons ago.

  After the detection of her baby bump at a tender age, her father had threatened to disown her, throw her in the streets with the village rats. As a depraved alternative, he had Clive chastise her in private. Never revealing the baby’s father, she’d given birth to a disfigured mutant. Her enraged father took the baby, and hours later he’d alleged the infant had died. Paniess suffered the ultimate sacrifice and betrayal, harvesting hatred for her father. The bracelets she wore on her wrists concealed a thin white scar; a failed attempt at ending her own life, only the recently deceased Dr. Sese had been privy to.

  Her primary consolation—the baby’s father remained a secret. There had been only one person she’d trusted and confided, and that was Fulvio McTullan. And ever since, she’d been spying on Management to help him. It had been her sanity of retribution, to stab her father in the back every chance she could get.

  A few months ago she’d informed the baby’s father, Doogan, the whole sordid story. She’d lived with the heartache for years, but just learning of it, he’d been shocked. She’d taken him in her arms and hoped for a new beginning.

  When Rooney had asked Goshen if he’d been in touch with Fulvio, he’d said, “Only once. And that had been weeks ago when citizens had Management and Mediators in a tizzy. Fulvio said everyone was safe and they’d be traveling over the mountains. He didn’t know if he’d have cellular reception. But I was to leave him a voice mail in regards to what’s happening here.”

  Citizens had rebelled against the rationing system by looting and stealing whatever they could lay their hands on. They’d shirked work assignments and Pomfrey’s quick reprisal had been harsh. The punishments were severe.

  Then Goshen showed Rooney his cherished cellular device.

  “I was wondering how you were in contact with him all these years.” Rooney held the device, turning it over in his hands. “The physicians are now sharing one. Kind of cool.”

  “Thanks to Paniess.” Goshen’s skin pleated in an off-kilter grin. “She’s quite the little thief.”

  Presently, Paniess peered through the irksome fence standing between her and the mansion and her pillow. Thinking of Goshen’s last comment, which was meant as a compliment, she smirked. And this gave her the drive to scale that darn barrier in record time, avoiding any mishaps.

  She sailed past a network of trees to the hydrangea bush. Paniess monitored the front gate where Mediator Stark was relieving the Mediator on night duty. Then scuttling between the sedans to the mansions side gable, she reached her bedroom window.

  She raised the window and hopped up, balancing her belly on the frame. Bending her leg she crawled over, planting one foot and then the other on the floor. With a faint squeal, she lowered the window. She’d have to grease the frame, especially if these nighttime adventures were going to be a habit.

  Imbued with pure exhaustion, Paniess pulled the curtains over her windows to block the morning glow. She stretched her shoulders, lessening the edgy stiffness and planned on sleeping the day away.

  “It’s about time.”

  At the sound of his voice, her spine stiffened. She turned to see Mediator Clive lounging on her bed and his rifle lying next to him like a threat.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The arduous journey took longer than expected as they descended the mountainous region. The salvaging group of Smelt, Horatio, and Gus complained as the wagon wheels ground to a halt.

  “W
hoa, Gingersnap,” Smelt yelped.

  Pitted against gnarled roots and bushy undergrowth, Smelt dropped the reins and hopped from the planked buckboard. “These darn thingamijigs keep strangling my wheels.”

  Fulvio, astride Zennith, pranced to the wagon. “We need to be down the mountain by dusk.” He scouted the vicinity for anything unusual. It had been thirty years since the final days, and Planet Earth had been desecrated as Governments sought power and control. Nuclear and dirty bombs annihilated, demoralized and transformed what remained of civilization. Since then, a metamorphous had taken shape, not only with particular humans but animals and vegetation as well.

  “Sure enough agree with you there.” Smelt unsheathed his knife and sawed the vines encompassing the wheel spokes. “A little help here guys.” Horatio and Gus jumped down and helped to de-vine the wheels.

  “At least there’s no significant snowfall here.” Fulvio removed his wide-brimmed hat to wipe his forehead and squinted into the sun. “We’ll rest for an hour after we reach the valley.”

  Horatio tugged a stubborn vine and asked, “When’s Ennis and Doogan coming?”

  “It’ll only take the helio half the time.” Fulvio clipped his hat to his head. “If all goes as planned they’ll be at the city by the crack of dawn. It depends on Knox. Maybe Doogan will stay behind.”

  “The poor kid looked pretty beat yesterday,” Gus added. His usable third arm intent on stripping the last of the vines.

  “Yes and our supplies are shrinking. Doogan used the last of Valium to set Knox’s bones. If we don’t find what were looking for in the city, we’ll have to take another expedition.”

  Smelt rocketed to his feet. “No, Fulvio. You’re talkin’ like a damn fool. We can’t go back to Tallas. Next time, they’ll string you up and ask questions later.”