by Janet Durbin
"Thank you,” she said as she took the supplies.
He looked down while shifting some straw with his feet. “You'd best get a move on. The more distance you put between you and those devils the better."
Shyanne hooked the water skin over the saddle horn and placed the white bundle in her pack. She checked the belly strap one more time to make sure it was still tight. Before grabbing the reins and getting into the saddle, she hugged the tall man. Prodding Jack toward the main thoroughfare, she turned and waved. He followed her as far as the door and waved back.
"Good luck, and watch yer back,” he yelled.
I wish I could have known these people better. Unfortunately, circumstances never seem to let that happen, she thought with a momentary twang of sadness.
Shyanne waved again and turned Jack toward the trail that took her in a westward direction out of town. Drizzle ran beside her. The horse was used to the sight and smell of the big cat; he paid no attention to the tawny creature next to him.
She didn't look back as she rounded the bend. If she had, she would have noticed two battered and angry men watching her as she disappeared, vowing revenge for what they considered an extreme injustice done to them.
"She will pay, don't you worry none. She will pay,” the burly man muttered as he watched her go.
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Chapter Two
Drayco moved away from the section of the city where he had killed the old man. He did not want to be in the vicinity when the body was found. People were curious. They asked too many questions, questions he did not want to answer.
The old man's blood had helped, but at such a price. He remembered the many times he had not satisfied his need and how he had nearly died because of it. The thought of killing never sat well with him. Unfortunately, there was no option if he wanted to survive. He was worried, though; the thought of killing was getting easier.
Will this ever stop? Why did this have to happen to me?
The sun was reaching its orange rays over the horizon as Drayco made his way through the ruins. He was a tall man with a darkness about him, a darkness that made most people think twice before approaching. The sword swinging from his hip helped. He did not mind. It made it easier to avoid unwanted company.
The road he walked on lay broken and overgrown, grass sending out ever reaching tentacles to take back what was once its territory. It ran through a big city, the city he and his family had called home. That was before the virus made a complete mess of everything, before chaos ran rampant. The monuments and statues that had brought so many tourists now lay in ruins. The White House destroyed.
The towering buildings reminded him of the haunted houses he used to enter at Halloween. Rundown stores with broken windows were everywhere. Dirt covered the glass panes that had somehow survived intact, hiding the contents inside from view. What used to be automobiles was nothing but piles of rusted metal, abandoned where they sat.
When the virus had been in full swing, some made a mad rush to get out of the city, while others simply hid in their homes. The people fleeing blocked the roadways with their many cars, making it impossible for emergency personnel to get to the dead and dying. Some tried to carry their worldly possessions with them after abandoning their vehicles. They were forced to drop everything after the items became too heavy.
In the end, the virus found them. No one could outrun it.
Looting increased dramatically during the first few weeks. People grabbed televisions, clothes, jewelry, and any items they thought were important. Most were found dead with the “important” things lying next to them. The police, or what was left of them, were unable to keep up. They were too busy trying to survive, like the rest of the world.
Descendants of survivors still lived in the city because they had nowhere else to go. Their ancestors had not left, and neither would they. They felt safe in the familiar environment.
Drayco looked at the different buildings as he walked down the road. One would catch his interest and he would enter, finding nothing of use. Looters, both past and present, had done their jobs well. Even though he needed blood to stay alive, he still needed to eat the same as any other person.
A rundown store stood at the corner of an intersection. A light breeze made the worn and weathered sign dangling in front swing around in a circle. The hinge squealed with every turn. The noise caught his attention; the message on it drew him closer.
"Groceries. I wonder if anything might have been missed this time.” Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “Won't know unless I look."
The door for the dank and dusty building was jammed with pieces of fallen concrete. He peered through the broken window and saw a few canned goods and other items thrown all around. At one time, it had been a grocery store; now, it was nothing more than a trash heap. The looters had ruined everything in their haste to get “the good stuff".
Papers lay scattered throughout the interior. Occasionally, a breeze would catch one just right, causing it to float in the air until a wall stopped its progress. Dust covered the floor where the shifting papers had not. Except for a random footprint from an animal, the dust had not been disturbed in quite some time. Most of the cans were rusted beyond recognition or destroyed. Broken glass from the overhead lights littered the room.
Drayco crawled through the opening and walked around the room. The sound of crunching glass echoed off the bare walls. On prior explorations, he had been lucky enough to find a can still in good shape. Maybe today would be as successful.
He was rummaging through the store when he found a doorway half hidden in a back corner. Beyond it, he saw a room with shelves knocked over. Boxes in various states of ruin were visible under them.
"This looks like the storage room,” Drayco said to himself as he stood in the doorway.
He put his pack down and moved to inspect the boxes. Some had large holes in them. He discovered most were filled with partially eaten dry foodstuff. Dead bugs and their droppings confirmed his suspicions about what had caused the holes. It made their contents useless to him.
He could see the label of a favorite brand of cereal from his childhood, but it was hard to make out due to the bite marks made by the bugs. A smile came to his face as he remembered all the times he had nagged his mom to buy it whenever they went to the store.
Drayco moved some of the bigger boxes and discovered a smaller one hidden underneath. It looked like it was still new; the bigger boxes had protected it from the ravages of time. He pulled it out and knelt down to look inside. This was the prize he had hoped for. Pint-sized cans without so much as a single rust spot on them were inside. He pulled one out and read the brightly colored label. Five others remained wedged inside the partitions.
"Peaches,” he read with excitement. “A prize for sure."
Drayco popped the pull-tab and tugged the lid off. Inside, he discovered the can was lined with a white material used in the past to prevent rust.
He tasted the contents carefully. Cans found on previous outings had been opened and large mouthfuls consumed before he discovered the food inside was rotten. He learned his lesson about sampling with a very small amount from that point on. The fruit, and the juice it was stored in, tasted as fresh as when it had been canned.
"A little bit of heaven I haven't had in a long time.” He closed his eyes and finished off the rest of the contents with a satisfied smack of his lips.
Nowadays, peaches were no more. For some unknown reason, the virus had affected them. All the trees started to lose their leaves, then quit producing fruit altogether. One by one, they died out. They were the only fruit trees affected. The rest, like apples and oranges, continued to flourish and produce.
He had just finished putting the last of the cans in his backpack when a noise sounded behind him. He turned and saw a large head with beady, red eyes appear over some crumpled, half-chewed boxes. It was a rat, though not like any rat he remembered. This one was about the size of a medium dog.
Where did that come from?
The dark man stared at the big rat in front of him. Almost immediately, he heard other sounds in the room. Parts of the downed shelves shifted as if something large was passing under them. He knew what it was; he could see their many glowing red eyes.
I must have stumbled into a nest of them, he thought.
The rats moved with lightning speed, darting from one bit of cover to another. Watching their movements, he realized they were positioning themselves between him and the door, thus cutting off any chance of escape. He had to get out fast, or he might not get out at all. He carefully picked up his pack and started to back out.
Hunger made the creatures bold.
A rat jumped onto his back from a pile of broken rubble. The weight of the beast almost brought him down; he managed to keep his feet under him. Pain shot through his shoulder as teeth sank into the flesh. Others attacked him from the front. Another bit his leg.
Drayco reached up to grab the one on his back before it bit him again; it was too late. Its teeth sank into the soft flesh of his shoulder once more. He bellowed with rage as he grabbed it and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a thud. It did not get up.
He kicked at the other rats surrounding him. One let out a squeak when he hit it. The rest backed off after he started swinging his pack. They watched the man with hungry eyes, waiting for him to tire. They had played this game before.
Some of the rats focused their attention on their wounded comrades. The one he threw against the wall remained where it had landed; the other was limping from the kick it had received. Hunger drove the rats to turn their attention away from the stronger prey onto the easier.
Drayco used that moment to turn and run. Squeals of pain filled his ears as the rats tore at the wounded ones. They now had the meal they so desperately wanted.
He slowed when he was several blocks from the store and bent over to catch his breath, hands resting just above his knees. “That was close."
The virus had caused mutations. Some were good; others were not—like the rats. The dark twin understood mutations. He was one. He needed to drink blood to stay alive.
Drayco pulled his shirt back to see a set of ragged tear marks on his shoulder. Blood oozed from the wounds. Thankfully, they were not deep. The bite on his leg smarted. It, too, was not deep.
"Damn. I hope they don't get infected."
He cleaned all the wounds with some water from his drinking pouch and covered them with pieces of cloth ripped from an old shirt. His body's defense system, which had helped him survive the virus, would most likely prevent any infection from setting in.
"Feels better already."
Drayco straightened his clothing after he finished and placed the pack on his good shoulder. He continued through the city.
The sun was high in the sky when he entered another section where whole families were moving about. Some of the people in the cities had grouped together for protection from the awful mutations, and from other humans.
With the need for blood satisfied, along with his curiosity of finding useful trinkets and foodstuff, he tossed his pack on the ground and sat down in an open square to consider his next move.
He saw a family looking through the rubble close to him. There was a man, a woman, and two children. The man was dirty and skinny; his clothes looked like they'd seen better days. The woman was in a tattered floral dress with her long, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The kids looked to be in the same condition.
The woman kept glancing over her shoulder toward Drayco. It was as if she thought he might become some sort of demon that would eat her and her family. Her man looked at him once. He returned to his rummaging, ignoring the dark twin altogether.
The kids were playing with old, broken toys they had found somewhere. After a few minutes, the boy went off to find his father who had disappeared from view. He left the girl standing alone with nothing to do but kick rocks. The woman had her back toward her daughter; she was bent over, concentrating on a pile of rubble.
Drayco focused on his planning. He failed to notice the little girl approaching him.
"You're new around here, ain't cha?"
She appeared to be about seven years of age with long, strawberry-blonde hair flowing down her back. It was wound into a loose braid. Strands on either side of her face waved with every breath of the light breeze. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She was dirty and skinny, but there was a sense of pride about her. She reminded him a lot of his sister, Shyanne. His heart wrenched.
"Yes, I am."
"Do ya plan on hanging around?” She looked down and kicked a rock, sending it skitting across the road.
"I'm just passing through."
"You're cute.” She turned her face away, hiding it behind her hands, giggling.
Drayco smiled. He picked up his pack and reached inside. When his hand reemerged, he held one of the small cans of peaches toward her.
She stood there, tilting her head this way and that in an attempt to see what he held in his hand. Hesitantly, she reached out and snatched the can before he could change his mind and take the offering back. She ran off a few paces and spun around.
"Thanks, mister."
The girl's mother yelled for her. “Lishal! Get over here!"
Lishal ran to her, hugging the can against her body as if it was made of gold. He could hear the mother scolding the girl.
"How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers? You could be hurt!” She noticed her daughter holding something. “What have you got there?"
"Nothing.” Lishal hid the can behind her back. “The nice man gave it to me."
Her mother reached toward the child. “Let me see it."
"No! It's mine!” She ran from her mother before she could take the prize away.
"Lishal! I just want to make sure it's safe, that's all."
Drayco rose to his feet and shouldered his pack. He moved away, smiling. Halfway down the broken, grass-covered roadway a small voice yelled to him. It was Lishal.
"See ya, mister!"
He turned around to see Lishal standing on her tippy toes. She had one hand in the air, waving it with all her might. The can of peaches was safely tucked away in her other. She was so much like Shyanne, so full of life. He hoped she would remain the same as she grew older. He didn't mind being around children. They saw him as a person, not as an evil entity.
Drayco decided it was time to leave the city. He needed to be back in the open spaces. In recent weeks, he had heard rumors of a woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair who traveled in the company of a big cat. She could be Shyanne, his twin sister. It was beyond all reason, but something inside him told him it was so. He continued walking westward. In no time, he was far from the little girl who enjoyed a can of peaches.
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Chapter Three
The rejuvenating rains of spring and early summer had come and gone, leaving its mark on the dirt road. Deep ruts created from the passing of wagons made it difficult for Jack to walk without stumbling. Shyanne moved him to the smooth, grass-covered edge to keep him from getting hurt.
She loved the openness surrounding her. Trees scattered throughout the fields danced as the breeze made its way through their reaching arms. Large, fluffy white clouds floated lazily across the rich, blue sky.
It was late in summer. The days were hot, the nights comfortable. Yellow, white and blue flowers dotted the fields that paralleled the road. Shyanne took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
"Jack, this is living. I miss the modern conveniences, but I love nature when it's at its best."
The horse cocked his ears back toward the girl as if he was really listening to what she said. A butterfly flew in his face and distracted him. He focused on it instead, ears pointed forward, watching it as it floated past in an erratic pattern in search of nectar. His ears started to swing back and forth; first toward the woman on his back, then toward the de
licate, black and yellow thing that flittered close to him. Shyanne chuckled. She really loved her horse.
It would be dark soon. She knew that staying out alone without a shelter of some kind was not a wise move. The world had changed. Savage mutations prowled in the night. A few were cunning and very deadly. The manmade ones were worse, far worse. They would not mind making a meal out of a girl, her horse, or her cat.
A short while later, a road branched off to the right. It was wide enough to allow a wagon to follow it, though no ruts marred the surface. It led toward a thick growth of tall, majestic trees. Since nothing was visible ahead except a few trees and open fields, she decided to chance it.
Tugging on the reins, she turned Jack in that direction with the hopes that an old hunter's shack or an abandoned house would soon appear. If nothing showed, at lease she would have the cover of many trees to hide in.
Drizzle had disappeared some time ago. Shyanne wasn't worried. She knew he would find her no matter where she went.
She rode for another half hour and was starting to wonder about her decision when she came upon a clearing with an old building in its center. She was glad to see the shelter.
From the looks of it, the roof had disappeared a long time ago. Only parts of the rotten rafters remained. It had four stone walls. A good thing since the red hue of the setting sun now blanketed everything. The remnants of a wooden fence marked the outskirts of the property. Tall, ripe wheat covered most of the field. It waved as if inviting her to stay.
"At least the walls will protest us from the cool night winds. And whatever else,” Shyanne said to her horse. She looked up at the clear sky. “I don't think we'll have to worry about rain tonight.” She dismounted and walked into the building.
The door, like the roof, was long since gone. She entered what appeared to be the main living area. Another room was located in the back and was probably for sleeping. The floor was made of hard, compacted dirt with patches of tall grass growing in both rooms. There was plenty of space for the three of them.
