by Mark Tufo
“I am Mickie from the Landian tribe.”
“Like Mickey Mouse or Mickie D’s?” I had to ask, she did not respond.
“They are close.” With some effort, she pulled me underneath the bough of a large hemlock tree. A heavy skirt of needle-laden branches concealed us from all but the most prying of eyes.
My mouth began to move in preparation for another question, she must have sensed this as she placed, easily one of the grubbiest mitts that I have ever had the displeasure of being touched with, over my speaking orifice. As you would expect, I froze; I could not even begin to wrap my mind around what was traveling across the surface of her filth coated palm and right into my very being. I was seriously grateful my lips hadn’t opened yet. I would have punched her in the head if I could have moved my arm. Her hand clamped down even tighter, I was in danger of her cutting off my airway. Then I heard the snap of a branch being stepped on no more than ten feet from where we laid, and all was forgiven. Whoever, or whatever it was, was not in search and destroy mode. They departed as quickly as they came. Mickie relaxed, it was too late for me. I passed out. I’d like to say it was from exhaustion. In fact, since I’m the one writing the history here, that’s exactly what it was. Manly exhaustion. In reality, though, a bit may have been from the shock of her muck.
It was getting dark by the time I came to. I attempted to raise my head and get my bearings. Oh my god my body was sore. I felt as if I’d been dragged behind a pretty rambunctious bull, one foot caught in the stirrup, for about five miles. I don’t really know what that felt like but, I could guess. At least I could move a little better now, even if my movements now mirrored my actual age. My fucking hair hurt, that’s how bad off I was.
Mickie’s face peeked into the small clearing. “There is some water next to you; do you need help sitting up?”
“No, thank you.” I had my pride to think of. I rocked from side to side a couple of times like an overturned tortoise, then I looked over to Mickie who seemed slightly bemused. “Fine.”
She came in and adjusted me so that my back was against the tree. I almost didn’t mind the sap that was sticking to my back as the cool liquid cascaded down my throat from her gourd. Besides Mathieu’s beer, I don’t think I’d ever tasted anything so good.
“Are you a werewolf?” she asked when I’d finally taken the water container from my lips.
“Worse,” I told her honestly.
“You are Lycan?” Her eyes grew wide and she seamlessly drew an incredibly long knife from a sheath on her back. The point was at my throat before I had a chance to explain.
“Old one! I’m…I’m an Old One,” I told her, not sure if that was the best move either. Note to self: When you are completely helpless, it is not a good idea to be either ambiguous or dangerous. Give short, polite explanations for yourself.
She immediately pulled the knife away like she was ashamed of what she’d done. “You are Michael Talbot?”
Wasn’t sure if there was a right answer here. I still owed the Landians a debt I wasn’t planning on paying, sort of like my student loans. I was still getting notices in the mail from a collection agency out of Indiana for those; and come on, it’s not like I was using the damn degree. I suppose they could garnish my wages, but there wasn’t much money in monster slaying. “I am.” My mother always told me honesty was the best policy. (This coming from the woman that claimed the family dog as a dependent on her taxes. Of course, the IRS would never hold a knife to her throat.)
“Inuktuk will be pleased that I have found you.”
Those words offered little comfort.
“Are you well enough to walk?” she asked, and reached her hand out to offer to help me up.
I would rather have eaten cherry pop-tart coated ham, than take that hand. “Listen, umm, Mickie, I don’t mean to be rude or ungrateful, but you look like you rolled around in shit.”
“I did,” she smiled. “It is wolf waste. The Lycan avoid it.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Makes sense.” Some had used offal back in the zombie days to mask themselves from the ravenous hordes. Apparently, coating yourself in crap is a universally effective defense. I wouldn’t think there was an enemy at any point in human history that wasn’t offended by some shit or other. Good thing we never had an apocalyptic battle with dung beetles. Her hand was still outstretched.
“Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to move yet.”
“The zombies will finish their meals soon; this will not be a safe place.”
“Dammit.” I rolled off to the side to get my hands underneath me. I pushed up, happy that I was able to do so. My shoulders creaked like old floorboards in a haunted house.
“You need to be quieter,” she said softly.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mumbled. I sounded like my very own bowl of Rice Krispies as I snapped, crackled, and popped my way to a vertical status. Boy, I was getting old. I wobbled; my left leg gave a twinge, kind of letting me know that we weren’t quite done with our little struggle for control. I took a tentative step; I had self-locomotion but if we had to run, it would be over before it started.
“If I don’t make it to wherever we’re going, could you please tell your people to be on the lookout for a scruffy, albeit handsome man, although, don’t tell him I said that, and a big, magnificent dog that were with me?”
“I will.”
“Thank you. Lead on, Landian.” Walking seemed to help break off the rust that had solidified on my muscles. “How far?” I asked when we’d gone about a quarter mile. I was already starting to work through what little energy I had regained during my short slumber.
Mickie said nothing. “Fuck,” I muttered. I knew what that meant. Far enough that I was going to be in a ton of pain again by the time we got there. She kept a slow, but deliberate pace. Surprisingly, I felt better the farther we went along. Figured it was somewhere in the five-mile range by the time we were done. The closer I got to the camp, the more of an escort we collected. I’d like to say it was with a hero’s welcome when we returned, but they were all armed and they looked less than thrilled to see us, or more likely, me. They must have been saving wolf shit for months because they were all coated in it and more than a few were getting dangerously close to my bubble of personal space.
“This smells like a fucking cut-rate kennel. You think you could maybe back off?” I turned to the closest man. “Fingers for everyone!” I said, raising a double eagle. It was weird that such a simple gesture, universally understood at one time, now had absolutely no meaning. Didn’t stop me from flipping off the entire Landian tribe. I suppose it was more for me than them, and even though it pained me, I did a pirouette to make sure everyone got their due.
“You should stay closer to me,” Mickie urged. “I have not seen my people so angry except when dealing with the Lycan.”
“I tend to have that effect on people.”
“You are my responsibility until I get you to Inuktuk; it would be a personal affront if anything happened to you before then.”
“Yeah, just think how that would be for me.” The press of crap coated bodies was getting thicker. At one point I might have been able to fight my way out; now I wasn’t so sure. I always get a little claustrophobic when I feel trapped. “You had better back the fuck up!” I shouted at someone that was close enough to take a whiff of my shampoo, I mean, that’s if they were into that type of thing. I screamed out when a blade scraped against my rib cage. I lashed out, sending the offender sprawling away. He’d be lucky if it was only a broken jaw. One second we were moving along, Mickie no more than a handsbreadth away, the next she was pulled away and I was completely surrounded, the tips of many various types of weapons pointing at me, mostly at my midsection, but there were enough pointing at my head and legs that it would matter little which direction I chose to go.
“Fuck it. Let’s do this.” I grabbed the hand axe off my thigh strap. Yeah, that did little to diffuse the situation.
/> “STOP!” A voice rang out. It was Inuktuk. “Is this how we treat our guests?”
“I’m thinking their manners went out the door with their personal hygiene.” I just couldn’t help myself from saying something. The shit was really getting to me and silence is not in my nature.
The circle pulled back, six inches at the most, then to my front a wedge formed as Inuktuk came through. I couldn’t help but notice she was flanked by six very large and heavily armed tribesmen. All was not well in this twisted McDonald’s religion. How could anything that was based off a clown be well?
“You should come with me,” Inuktuk said as she extended her hand. I was hesitant to show my back as we left; it would take one of the pissed off natives nothing to thrust forward and personally introduce me to his steel. Apparently, Inuktuk still held enough sway that this didn’t happen. A guard pulled back the flap on her large tent and we were ushered inside.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked as she escorted me farther in and offered me a seat on a pile of furs, which I gratefully accepted. I turned when Mickie also entered.
“It was not a popular decision to become involved in this war we find ourselves in,” Inuktuk said as she sat.
“Not sure if there has ever been a war that was unanimously popular with the citizenry. The ones fighting it tend to have a different outlook from those that dictate it. So, joining the fight was your call, I take it?”
She nodded.
“I wish you’d hopped on board before Talboton fell.”
“I regret this. However, your town’s demise was the only reason I was able to get my tribe-mates to listen.”
“That’s kind of like putting up a dam after the flood.”
“Nevertheless, the new dam is strong; we are nearly committed to this war.”
“Are you really? If you ask me, you’re barely holding on to your personal position of power, and once that’s gone, what are those people out there going to do? To be honest, I’d really like to get out of here before the coup begins. Feel free to come along and bring your honor guard with you.”
“I will not leave my people!” she said indignantly.
“Just a suggestion. What’s happened here that has them so riled up?”
“The Lycan took twenty-five people four nights previous. That was before we’d learned to use our scent camouflage.”
“Oh...so that’s what you’re calling all this shit smearing. Okay. Fair enough.”
“May I continue?” She was not nearly as jovial as that first time we’d met. The strain of her entire world being threatened was wearing her thin. I felt a little bad for her. However, another part, a bigger, more resentful part, was still very much angry at her absence in a battle that could have had real meaning in this war. Sure, I’d delivered a heavy blow to the Lycan, killing a decent amount of their soldiers, but those were easy enough to replace. This was the zombie apocalypse all over again; a virus would be turning our own against us at staggeringly exponential rates.
She told me about their initial raid and the plan with the grapes, which I thought was absolutely brilliant; though I’m not sure if I could have justified the sacrifices or not. Sure, they had to happen to pull that plan off, and they had volunteered for their mission, but that’s a little more hardcore than I’d probably be able to stomach. Got to figure that was the first real ding in her credibility to lead.
“We knew that we had to use fear tactics against the Lycan; they were still mustering for an attack. Many Landians believed that Talboton would never fall and that once you had defeated the Lycan, things would return to normal. When your town toppled, it was as large a blow to my people as to yours.”
“Oh I doubt that. They’re not my people, but they were dying while yours sat on the sidelines and rooted for the home team.”
“That is a fair assessment.” Have to admit, I figured she’d come up with an excuse and not just own it like that. “We may be late, Mr. Talbot, but I am determined to see this through.”
“And your people?”
“It will dawn upon them. They know we cannot sit idly by, that sooner, rather than later, we will be forced into action.”
“You’d be amazed what a crowd can come up with on its own.”
“That is what I am afraid of. That is why I am attempting to gain any and all advantage before I ask them to fight. We have picked up ten refugees from Talboton and they have disclosed to us the secret weapons cache hidden there.”
I was thinking that anybody could know about the room, but without Azile, that knowledge was just about useless. “You tried to raid it?”
“We did. It was our belief that this section of the fortress would have been left unsecured. There were nearly a hundred of us.”
“That’s a pretty large force for a secret mission.”
“Most of them were there to help remove and transport the weapons once we found them. We went into the secret entrance to the tunnel.”
I shuddered at the word; I didn’t have a great track record with underground enclosures.
She continued her narrative, regardless of where my head was at. At any rate, it was brought back to the present soon enough. “We were all in that tunnel.”
“Wait, you went along?”
“I could not, in good conscience, send my people off to possibly die without putting myself at risk as well.”
“Too bad more politicians in my age didn’t feel that way. I could guarantee a ninety-nine percent reduction in war; but there will always be that crazy one percent.”
“I should have realized something was wrong. There was a presence in that tunnel...an evil.” She looked over to me, not sure if she was searching for my understanding or she was accusing me of being the evil’s root cause. Either way, I was in agreement. “The smell as well—death was heavy in that place. If those weapons hadn’t meant so much to us I would have...no, I should have just turned us around.”
“More people have died because of those damn guns than should ever have.” Were they important? Sure. But they still hadn’t stemmed Xavier’s march. If anything, they’d fractured what was left of humanity’s stand. The Cajunites were gone, Denarth was no longer an ally. New Georgia had been all but destroyed, Talboton was gone. A few cursed guns weren’t going to turn the tide.
“I do not believe they knew we were down there. Much to our detriment, I believe it to have been nothing more than a random check. Some unseen force guided their hand so as to meet us in that tomb. Once we were discovered, the battle was on. As soon as the Lycan saw us, they attacked. Those in front were slaughtered mercilessly.”
I didn’t say anything, but how the fuck else are people slaughtered? She was in pain. I would keep my snarky replies to myself.
“I wanted to fight; my men pulled me out to the other side before I could join in.”
“What would that have accomplished? You’d be dead now.”
“Perhaps my successor would not be so willing to enter into war.”
“Do you honestly think your people have a choice? This war is going to be brought to them whether they want it or not.”
“Over forty men and women have been killed or captured in just the last week. That is more than we’ve lost in the last two years!”
“Inuktuk...Amy.” I used her real name, it came off the tongue easier. Saying ‘Inuktuk’ tended to get stuck in the back of your throat. She looked up from that hopeless spot she was sinking into. She had to be strong in front of her people at all times; perhaps when she was with someone she didn’t know, someone she wasn’t leading to war, she could be more honest with herself. Made sense in a strange, twisted sort of way. “The grapes,” I asked. “Whose idea was that?”
“It was mine.”
“The wolf crap?”
“We had a tribal meeting about that.”
“Okay...who called the tribal meeting?”
“I did,” she responded.
“This making any sense to you yet?” She didn’t answer
, though I think she wanted to. “How many more of your people would be dead right now if you hadn’t done the things you have? There’s a chance that someone else running the show here might have bought the Landians a little more time. Run, bury their heads in the sand type of thing. Xavier certainly has his sights set on Denarth, and then I’m sure Robert’s Land will be next. Then, once he was an unstoppable force, he’d be slamming full force into the free folk of Landia. He knows you’re here, he knows you’re not going anywhere. More than likely, Amy, he will use your people as cattle. Round them up and feed them to the Lycan as need be. You won’t even have the chance to fight; you’ll be penned up and butchered like farm animals. I would think that’d be a pretty tough way to go out. Your people should be writing songs about you, not trying to get you ousted.”
“Someday they may understand. Right now, all they feel is pain and suffering for those of us that have been lost.” She was defending her people; I couldn’t exactly blame her for that.
“Your actions have bought us some time.” It was as close to a “thank you” as I could get.
“I fear what we have done, and even what you yourself have sacrificed, has accomplished nearly nothing.”
“What? By the sounds of it you must have taken down a hundred of their army and that herd of zombies just killed another hundred at least, including some of the damned Lycan.”
“That is less than one-fifth of what he has assembled.”
I truly thought I had misheard her. “Excuse me?”
“He has already dispatched the other armies. You have given some time back to Denarth, but no others. He has sent three other sets of raiders out and he keeps a large guard within the walls of Talboton in case they are attacked there.”
“This can’t be happening. Where could he possibly have gotten that many people? His army grows exponentially while ours dwindles.”
“There are rumors that he has sent his kind over the great river to harvest more humans.”
“Great river? You mean the Mississippi?”
She looked as confused over that name as I had when she’d said hers.
