Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Horatio disrobed from the woolen blanket, flinging it into the bed of the wagon. “It’s getting warmer by the minute. And talking about going back to Tallas is boiling my blood. Why can’t we live peaceful-like? For all we know there’s not much left to this planet, and we got to go killing one another like...like...”

  “Git in the wagon.” Smelt waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no understanding them Elites. You know that.”

  “It’s Pomfrey Addler,” Fulvio said. “He’s trying to make a master race.”

  “You can say the word.” Gus raised his three arms in the air. “Mutations. We’re like an effing race that Pomfrey’s trying to abolish. Ain’t that right?”

  A commiserating Fulvio looked at the teenager and recalled the first moment he laid eyes on Gus, barely five, sickly, and struggling with an extra arm. People like Gus were Fulvio’s reasoning for fleeing the confines of Tallas and, the so-called peacekeepers, the Mediators.

  Fulvio, being one of the four Elites, had called the new government Management. They scraped together survivors and began life anew, naming the new village Tallas. Certain, hand-picked citizens were Executives, who assisted with mundane complaints from the lower class citizens.

  Following the meditative silence, Fulvio answered Gus, “Yes, you’re right. You all know why I left Tallas and have been sneaking back ever since, stealing provisions. Pomfrey is attempting to eradicate deformed citizens. And he’s been researching for years now to ascertain the mutated gene to formulate his perfect society.”

  “The sons-of-bitches are slicing and dicing them up.” Situated on the buckboard, Smelt twined the reins between his fingers. “I can’t believe citizens put up with that shit. Any one of them could be next.”

  “Medical information had been lost. Pomfrey stipulated that only deformed people would be their so-called guinea pigs.” Fulvio grunted and navigated Zennith’s head to the west. “I suspect citizens don’t have a clue what’s transpiring in the depths of the Infirmary.”

  After the crew made camp a golden glow panned the horizon as the sun began its descent. Gus tended to the sputtering kettle roiling in rabbit stew while the others gathered wood to house the blaze during the night, vital to distract unwanted parasites. Hot embers, a sparking fire, and a hearty scent drew the men like magnets.

  “Fulvio, is the rumor true?” Gus asked, slopping up the remnant of stew from his tin plate.

  “What rumor?” He swiped down his mustache, swiveling to look at him.

  “A revolution.” Gus licked the plate clean. “We heard there’s a revolution taking place in Tallas.”

  Fulvio and Smelt nodded.

  It was Fulvio who replied, “That’s the last word I heard from one of my informants.” He automatically reached for one of his side pockets, and ironed over a rectangular form with the palm of his hand.

  Smelt took notice of Fulvio’s hand, his eyelids thinning. “Fulvio, you’re not planning to contact them while we’re in the city, are you?”

  “It’d be ideal. Away from our little settlement. I doubt the Mediators would fly over the mountain to chase us. Possibly the signal might not even reach.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Gus glimpsed Smelt, then returned his eyes to Fulvio, confused. “Contact someone in Tallas? How?”

  Fulvio fished into one of his many pockets withdrawing an object. Firelight flickered on a black enamel slim casing. “I have a cellular device.”

  “Awesome. Can I hold it?” Gus unhitched his butt from the ground, getting to his feet and stopped. He seemed frozen in an awkward stance, staring straight ahead

  “Hey, Gus, I can see the white of your eyes from here,” Horatio snickered. “You see a ghost or something?”

  “Shush, quiet.” His knees buckled to the ground, peering past Fulvio. “See that. Over there.” His chin jutted toward the forest. “Eyes. Shiny red eyes are watching us.”

  ***

  Doogan angled over Knox to administer a few droplets of pain medicine to seep between parched lips. Then like a classic doctor he took his pulse and smoothed his palm over the boy’s forehead. “He’s doing well,” he said to anyone who was listening. He turned and bumped into Tanya, the boy’s mother. “Why don’t you get some sleep? He’ll be out for a couple of hours.”

  “Is he going to live?” Tanya nervously pulled on a string of her hair.

  “Knox has a broken clavicle and major leg wounds. I sutured them the best I could.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “My worst concern is the boy’s loss of blood and infection. I gave him a dose of cephalexin, but we don’t have much left. If he comes down with a fever let me know right away. Fulvio mentioned there’s a plant in the woods that can be used to ward off infection.”

  “What’s it look like?” Tanya asked. “I’ll get some.”

  “I’m not certain.” Doogan recapped the small vial of medicine. “My father is the expert in medicinal horticulture. In all the commotion, I never asked him about it before he left.”

  “I know,” Fabal said, who’d been standing off to the side. “I’ve seen it when Fulvio was taking care of Mom’s gunshot wound. He said it only blooms by the light of the moon. But I don’t know if it’ll bloom with snow covering the ground.”

  “Great. What would I do without you?” Doogan grinned and tousled his son’s curly locks. “We’ll head out tonight to look for some. Hopefully, the snow won’t be a problem.”

  Swan slipped her hand into Tanya’s and said to Doogan, “I thought you were going with Ennis into the city in the heliocraft.”

  “We’ll fly out after I get Knox comfortable.”

  Tanya pressed her hand on her daughters shoulder. “Doogan, thank you for doctoring my children. But why can’t I take care of Knox at my place? There’s too many people in here.”

  “Those constructed huts are supposed to be temporary.” He turned back to Knox and tucked the blanket beneath his chin. “They’re too drafty and I don’t want him to catch a cold. The cave is better protected against the elements and I like him here, next to the fire.”

  “Momma,” Swan said, “Doctor McTullan is right. The hut is so cold at night, I can barely keep warm.”

  Keeyla, dressed in a frayed cable knit sweater and scruffy jeans, entered their discourse. “Tanya,” she said, “why don’t we set your family up here in the cave until Knox is recovered?”

  “It’s already packed. I hate to impose.” Tanya scanned the mounds of sleeping bodies.

  “Nonsense.” Keeyla tried to assuage the obvious introvert. “We’re a community. And until we get this village running properly, these caves are communal property.”

  ***

  Obliging moonbeams shafted between forested pine and arborvitae forming chunky shadows. The coppice deadened crunchy footfalls as father with rifle in hand, and son riding a bear searched for the medicinal plant.

  “Dad, are you sure you don’t want to ride?” Fabal’s straddling legs skimmed forward over Tibbles’ shoulders. “You can fit behind me. Tibbles is strong. He can carry both of us.”

  Tibbles snorted consentingly and Doogan chuckled. “I’ll walk and try to unbury some of the snow to look for the plant. Are you sure you remember what it looks like? I’d hate to concoct something that’d make Knox sick.”

  “I remember exactly. It’s a pukey yellowish-green color with tiny white budding flowers.” Fabal’s body swayed as the bear trudged past pines in the darkened forest.

  “Pukey, huh?”

  “Kinda. You know mixed together. The white buds looked like they came in clusters of three to a plant. I think.”

  “You think? Or are you sure?” Doogan arrested at a low-lying bush. Using the edge of his boot, he brushed snow to the side and knelt to handle a strange looking plant. “Fabal, take a look at this one.”

  The bear lowered to the ground so the boy could slip off his furry shoulders. “It looks a lot like the one he used. I think that’s it.” Fabal hemmed with a closer look.

 
“When Fulvio used it for Mom were the roots still there?”

  “No. I didn’t see any dirt or roots. Just leaves and the buds that he made me mash to make pulp.”

  Doogan’s fingers wound the plant and ripped it from the cold earth. “Here put this in the knapsack.” He handed the stems to his son and kept plowing through the snow, exposing more plant life. He kneed the white ground to pluck moldering buds, and hoped they were still viable as a healing agent.

  “Dad,” Fabal said in a skeptical tone, “do you think leaving Tallas was a good idea?”

  “Kind of a mute question, don’t you think?” The denim of his pants absorbed the freezing snow, Doogan rose, thwacking flakes from his jeans. He handed the plants to his son. He then shoveled handfuls of snow and rubbed his dirty hands clean and dried them on the woolen coat that Keeyla had pieced together from ragged blankets. “We’re free to form a new village away from the dictators in Tallas.”

  “Yeah, but it’s so hard.” Fabal peddled the handle of the knapsack over his head and stashed the plants inside. “I miss my friends, especially Larksen.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for taking you away from your world.” He peered into his son’s big saucer eyes. Young eyes that have seen a fair share of tragedy. Even in the dimness he detected his forlorn countenance. “But these people needed a physician. I couldn’t stand by and let Pomfrey use them for his demented experiments.”

  “I know.” Fabal dipped his chin to his chest. “I wish...I wish...oh I don’t know what I wish.”

  “You wish we could all live together in peace and harmony.” Doogan gazed toward the moon. “I believe that’s what you’re trying to say.”

  “Yeah, that sums it up.” He toed a lump of snow. “Whatcha looking at, Dad?”

  “We better get back. Check on Knox and then off to the city.”

  “Can I go?” He shook with excitement.

  “Not this time.” Fabal’s enthusiasm spawned his fatherly close-lipped smile, and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “We’ll check it out first. Fulvio wants us to fly over these Appalachians. He remembers a valley on this side of the mountain range and it might be a perfect place to settle.”

  “I thought we were settling in the mountain somewhere?”

  “Too chancy up here. We’re better off in a valley for farming and livestock.”

  Vigorous snuffling drew their attention as Tibbles ascended on hind legs his head pointed upward.

  “What’s wrong?” Doogan asked.

  Vaporous air spurted from the bear’s nostrils.

  Motionless, Fabal and Doogan listened.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gus jumped for his gun, as did those stationed around the campfire. With buttocks to bristling flames, the men pointed weapons toward the forest.

  “Easy boys,” Fulvio’s caveat drew exasperated grunts and shifting of feet. “Don’t waste ammunition.”

  “It’s those gosh darn wolves.” Smelt eyed the woods, itching to fire at something. “Let’s kill ‘em and be done with them.”

  “We’re never done with them.” A grumble jangled Fulvio’s chest. “Keep stoking the fire. We need eyes all around us.”

  “I don’t see nutin’,” Smelt huffed through his nose. “Gus, are you sure you weren’t seeing things?”

  “I swear. I saw beaming red eyes.” Gus’s third arm brushed down his thigh. “They were standing right there, about five yards in the brush.” He signaled with the barrel of his rifle.

  “We need to guard the perimeter.” Fulvio lowered his gun. “I’ll take the first watch while you boys get some shut eye. We’ll do two-hour increments. Then I’ll wake Gus and so on until dawn. You boys good with that?”

  They nodded.

  “Remember to feed the fire.” Smelt inspected the infringing forest, then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I don’t wanna git eat in my sleep.”

  “Don’t worry,” Fulvio’s fingers latched onto his beard. “The first bite will wake you.”

  “Real funny, I’m not laughing.” Smelt bunkered down near the fire, flouncing a heavy blanket over him.

  Gus and Horatio followed suit, curling up next to the pit.

  Resembling a soldier on duty, Fulvio marched the boundary of their campsite. Instead of a rifle, he cradled a Glock .44 in his arms; his index finger positioned on the trigger. The contiguous woodlands were eerily quiet, not a good sign. He had the sensation of being watched.

  Two-hours ticked by lacking incident. He stoked the fire, provoking a flash of embers to dart and dance into the velvety sky. The flaming conflagration dulled to a pleasant crackling. Then a teeny-tiny rustle caught Fulvio’s ear. Fine-tuning his hearing and drowning in terror, every muscle in his body stood alert. All was silent. After a few minutes he relaxed. Bone-dead tired, he rubbed his eyelids. I’m imagining things. A weary Fulvio roused Gus for his shift.

  ***

  An hour passed and a sleepy-eyed Gus decided to take a load off and sit, shoring-up his spine against a rock. “Stupid wolves,” he murmured and hugged the rifle to his chest. He glimpsed the snoring men and then checked the surrounding trees for movement and creepy red eyes. Monotonous minutes slugged by and his eyelids drowsily shuttered prior to nodding off.

  A terrified whinny from the horses and a blood-curdling scream wrenched Gus from a drugged-like slumber. Pouncing to unsteady legs, his rifle juggled on his arms, twirling. The fire had reduced to orange cinders, and in the gloom, grisly shrieks and snarls vented around them.

  Fanged jaws had clamped Horatio’s throat. The dwarf’s semi-limp body was being wrestled and dragged by an enormous black wolf. They seemed to dissolve into the darkness, and with it, the abhorrent sound of Horatio’s gurgling screech.

  Abutting his rifle to his shoulder, Gus shot aimlessly.

  “Watch where you’re shooting,” Smelt hollered, plastering his hand over the right side of his head. “You skimmed my ear.” They noticed a hefty figure sprinting into the forest. “Fulvio, where you going?”

  The giant of a man tore after the wolf, his Glock targeting the black shape. He dodged several tree trunks and eased back on the trigger, firing. A squeal informing him the bullet made contact, he kept running until he found Horatio, though no wolf.

  Hurriedly he checked for vital signs. No pulse.

  “My faithful friend,” his voice quavered and openly sobbed. “You will be sorely missed.” He gathered the dwarf into his arms.

  Smelt and Gus trained their haunted gaze on Horatio’s unresponsive body while listening to a decomposing Fulvio. The distinctive cadence of the forest had returned with a vengeance.

  “He doesn’t have a face left.” Gus’s whisper sounded hollow. “What are we going to do now?”

  Distraught, Fulvio neither bothered to wipe the tears or hide his anguish as he turned to look at them. “Horatio was a good man. Help me carry him with pride.” Anchoring the dwarf’s shoulders, they raised him up with Smelt and Gus sustaining each leg.

  A despairing Gus blamed himself for falling asleep and expected unforgiving accusations, but none were forthcoming.

  ***

  It had been Fulvio’s foresight to bring a shovel and much-needed supplies for the journey. After burying Horatio, each person esteemed him with words of reverence.

  “We’d practically grew up together.” Smelt wiped at uncharacteristic soppy tears. “He could be a real pain in the ass, but I loved him.”

  “Horatio—my friend.” Fulvio knelt to the ground and collecting a handful of dirt tossed it to mingle with the mounded soil that housed the dwarf. “You are forever in our hearts. You served your people with vigilance, strength, and valor.”

  They looked to Gus. His shoulders slouched blubbering like a fool. He managed with, “So...sor...sorry...Horatio.”

  In solitude, they saddled and harnessed a now calmed Zennith and Gingersnap and detoured past the woodlands. The breadth of land appeared to be smoking as morning dew evaporated into the atmosphere. They ventured toward t
he metropolis in contemplative reticence. The noise of a squeaky saddle holding Fulvio’s girth and the trundling wagon was like a palliative balm.

  Succeeding an hour of hush, Smelt broke their reserve. “I didn’t hear no helio yet.”

  “They’ll be here.” Fulvio squinted into the intensifying sun.

  He reined Zennith. The procession halted, exhilarated by what lay before them.

  A surreal concave sight, like the outskirts of land was rolling in on itself. Crumbling tarry roadways, broken bridges, deteriorating skyscrapers, high-rises, a mass rubble of sin. Environmental aberrations tortured the city. Astronomical devouring vegetation of vines, shrubbery, weedy grass, and conquering trees looked like a botanical monstrosity.

  “Whoa-a—,” Gus said, sitting aligned with Smelt on the wagons bench. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “You mean you never climbed down the mountains into the city?” Smelt turned suspicious eyes on Gus like he was fibbing.

  “Nope. My whole life I’ve been up yonder.” He swept a hand behind him, showing the splendor of the range. “I’d heard bad things coming to these parts.”

  “Jus’ watch your butt, kid.” Smelt veered his shoulders to Fulvio. “What now? Do we wait for the helio or go in?”

  “Well, my friend, I see right off the bat redeemable machinery that will serve us greatly.” He indicated a flatbed truck and other corroded cars and trucks amassed on the highway that appeared abandoned on the spot. “I wonder if I can hot wire that contraption?” Fulvio mumbled.

  “What’s hot wire?” Gus asked.

  “It’s when you…” He shook his head, knowing it’d be a long explanation. “Never mind. I was just thinking to myself. We might get lucky and find keys still in the ignition.” Fulvio’s eyes tapered, canvassing the heinous foreground. “I don’t detect any movement. Do you?”

  After vigilant scrutiny, both men said in unison, “No, sir.”

  “Let’s see what we can find.” Fulvio nudged Zennith with his heels.

  CHAPTER SEVEN