BARREN: Book 2 - Escape from the Ruins (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by J. Thorn

  She pulled on Ree’s reins, bringing the horse to a stop. Hado stared back through the storm and up into the pass they’d just traversed.

  “Why are we stopping?” Dia asked.

  Hado couldn’t shake the feeling. But she had to acknowledge that her mind wasn’t right. For all she knew, it could be Hado’s own death stalking her.

  “It’s nothing. Let’s keep moving.”

  Dia turned and got Piva moving again.

  Hado took one more look around. She shook her head.

  If they died here, would it be so bad? Hado had seen winter steal life before. From what she’d learned during the cold seasons on the shore of the lake, such a death came like sleep and eased a person into the darkness. Once you stopped and gave into the inevitable, the final rest came after numbing the body from the extremities to the core. Not the honorable death of a warrior, but perhaps the best-case scenario for the young girl.

  How much farther? The horses had struggled, and they wouldn’t be able to navigate the snow much longer—it was simply too rough, even if they’d been fed and rested, neither of which had happened. Hado imagined that slaughtering the horses could sustain her and Dia for another week or so, but for what? They couldn’t carry enough meat to get them out of the mountains before they died, and that was assuming they could travel the same distance on foot as they could on horseback.

  Maybe it was time to stop and end it. Let the horses go, lay down in the snow, and fall asleep one last time.

  She heard Dia sniffle. Hado squeezed her legs, and Ree stepped faster to close the distance between the two riders. It didn’t seem to matter whether they were being followed or not. The mountain would claim their souls, and the tracker, whoever it was, could have their frozen corpses.

  Chapter 40

  28 Days West of Erehwon

  She couldn’t remember much. The moon sank, and the sun rose, yet the snow remained constant. The horses, somehow, had kept walking through the night. By mid-morning, they’d brought the riders to the bank of a wide mountain river which was frozen solid.

  She was still alive. Dia was still alive.

  “I can’t go on. I have to stop.”

  “We can’t,” Hado said, giving the girl the same response she had every other time she’d asked. “If we sleep now, we won’t wake up.”

  Whatever doubts Hado had harbored about getting Dia to California had drifted away during the night. She wouldn’t allow the girl to give up. They’d descended through the mountain pass, and the accumulation hadn’t been as deep in the valley. If the horses died, a person could walk along the rails, assuming they had in fact come through the last pass of the range.

  “Dig through the ice,” Dia said. “Water?”

  The horses needed it. They needed it. It was possible to go weeks without food, but they’d been on borrowed time when it came to water. None of them would live to see another daybreak without it.

  “Whoa,” Hado said, pulling up on Ree’s reins as Dia brought Piva to a stop behind her.

  Hado looked in both directions, following the frozen water’s path as it twisted through the foothills of the mountain on each side.

  “Let’s cross first and then break through the ice for water. I’m afraid that, if we drink first, we may be too full or sick to want to keep going.”

  Dia nodded, although Hado wasn’t sure the girl understood the plan to use water as motivation to get across the obstacle. Hell, Hado wasn’t even sure she understood her own plan.

  “Can we walk across?”

  Hado shook her head. “We can’t assume that it’s solid. There could be thin ice.”

  “The only other option is to turn back.”

  That’s not an option at all, Hado thought. If they were going to turn back and climb east back into the mouth of the mountain, they might as well jump into the water now, because they’d be dead by nightfall.

  “I know,” Hado said. “We’re going to have to cross. First us, though, and then we’ll call for the horses. We shouldn’t risk the extra weight.”

  Hado dismounted and approached the edge of the river, roughly a fifty-yard walk to the other side.

  “We’ll need to get across before we signal the horses to follow us,” Hado said. “Grab your pack and satchel.”

  “I’ll go first,” Dia said.

  “The hell you are. You’ll follow about ten feet behind me.”

  Hado grabbed her satchel and spear from Ree. She patted her horse on the head.

  “Don’t you follow until I call after you. All right?”

  The horse gazed back at her with tired eyes, and Hado just had to hope Ree would follow her when called, assuming they got across. Once they had what they needed from the horses, both women approached the edge of the river again.

  “Ready?” Hado asked.

  Shivering, Dia shook her head.

  Hado drew in a deep breath and stepped with shaking legs onto the ice. The snowpack gave her enough traction to walk across without slipping, but she still felt the solid, slick ice beneath it. She put one foot in front of another, sliding her feet forward and listening intently for any indication that the ice was cracking. She paused about ten feet onto the ice. Hearing nothing, Hado turned around and gestured to Dia.

  “Come on.”

  Dia stepped onto the ice immediately, sliding her feet forward and following in Hado’s footsteps.

  Hado turned and continued, resisting the urge to constantly look backward. She could hear Dia breathing, but Hado had to focus on getting herself across the ice, and vowed to herself not to turn around again until they’d made it across. Then she could signal for the horses. Beneath her, the ice felt thick, solid.

  We’re going to make it.

  “How are we doing back there?” Hado asked.

  “Fine,” Dia said. “Keep moving and don’t worry about me.”

  Hado managed to crack a small smile. All I do is worry about you.

  When she reached the halfway point, Hado stopped. She felt a shimmy and heard a low moan, but the ice beneath her feet still felt solid.

  “All right,” she said. “I heard something, but the ice is holding—”

  Dia screamed, and there was a crash. Hado whipped around.

  “Dia!”

  Water splashed up from a hole in the ice, but Hado had only turned just in time to see Dia waving her hands as she’d fallen down into the icy waters.

  Hado started to run, but she slipped and fell forward, landing on her side and bracing herself with her lone hand. She crawled toward where Dia had fallen through, but couldn’t see down into the dark water as bubbles broke the surface. Although the Venganza had avoided the water, Hado had seen women fall through the ice. She knew you only had seconds to pull them out.

  “Dia!”

  Hado scrambled closer to the hole. She tried to distribute her weight across the surface in hopes that she wouldn’t expand the crack in the ice. Looking down into the water, though, she saw water black as tar and still no sign of Dia. Then she saw a hand shoot up, grasping at the air with crooked fingers. The girl must have found the hole in the ice above her, but couldn’t pull herself up and out of it.

  Hado reached forward, over the water. “Grab my hand!”

  Hado watched as Dia’s hand slid back beneath the water. Several seconds passed, and it did not rise again. Hypothermia could take hold almost immediately. Hado realized that Dia’s chances of getting a hand or her head above water again lessened with each passing moment. There was only one way to save the girl. Hado tossed her pack and spear to the side, took a deep breath, and slid into the hole in the ice.

  At first, it felt as though Hado had simply slipped into the blackest midnight. She’d forgotten the Venganza fear of water and felt the almost pleasant sensation of floating in space. But a split second later, the cold water gripped her by the heart. She gasped and inadvertently took in a mouthful of water. It burned her face and throat with a brutal chill.

  Hado focused her mind,
screaming inside of her own head.

  Dia!

  She opened her eyes and saw bubbles in the black ink and a halo of light above. Hado had lost the breath she’d taken before sliding into the water, and her lungs began to burn as if she’d been running for miles.

  Motion. A flutter.

  Hado reached out with her arm and tried to grab Dia’s hand.

  A miss.

  Another miss.

  Her feet had gone numb, and she had to command her arm to reach out and try again.

  Hado blinked and saw Dia’s face appear through the darkness. The girl’s mouth was open in a silent scream as she reached for Hado. Hado grabbed her by the wrist and pulled Dia close. Luckily, they had not drifted far in the slow, icy current, and Hado was able to kick toward the opening in the ice above them.

  When they were directly underneath the opening, Hado used her arm to push Dia up while simultaneously pushing herself down. With all the strength remaining in her weary, broken body, Hado grabbed Dia’s knee and thrust the girl toward the surface.

  Dia went up and then slid back down.

  One more. That’s all I’ve got in me.

  Hado did it again, grabbing the girl’s leg and shoving her upward. After a momentary jerk, Hado felt the girl’s weight disappear. She saw Dia’s feet kick, then bubbles, and then a figure blocking the hole in the ice.

  She smiled as her lungs threatened to explode. Dia was out of the water. Hado heard warbled screaming and then felt hands grabbing onto her shoulders. The halo of light came rushing at her with Dia’s face encapsulated by it.

  Hado’s head broke the surface, and she swallowed a gulp of air, reaching up with her good hand to grab at the ice.

  “Kick!” Dia screamed at Hado. “I’ll pull you out.”

  She tried, but she couldn’t feel anything from her waist down. Hado slid beneath the surface again, and this time she thought she heard whispers down there—the soothing, calm voice of Katy.

  Two hands grabbed Hado’s right shoulder, pulling her head out of the hole once again. This time, Hado couldn’t feel her good arm. Her fingers flopped on the ice and then slid back to the water. Dia had been screaming at Hado, but the girl’s words came to her instead as a low vibration. She blinked and tried to focus on her, but even Hado’s eyelids seemed to be defying her. The women faced each other for a split second, and Hado could see defeat in the girl’s eyes. Dia had realized she couldn’t pull Hado’s body weight out of the water. The girl’s hands slipped from Hado’s shoulder, and one hand snagged the chain and charm from around her neck.

  Hado smiled at Dia as the halo darkened and she descended deeper into the black water.

  Tara.

  Hado turned and saw the face of her mother from all those years before, the loving look of a devoted parent welcoming a child to a warm embrace.

  Mom.

  She went to Katy as the water turned into a loving light, pulling Hado down and into eternal rest.

  Chapter 41

  38 Days West of Erehwon

  The high altitude and blustering snowstorms eventually weakened and spilled out into dry highlands. Dia had tethered Ree to Piva’s saddle, but Hado’s horse had died several days after they’d crossed the frozen pond—as if giving up the spirit shortly after her rider had. Dia had known it would come to this, and she was just grateful to Ree for carrying Hado so far as she had, and to Piva for getting her this far west.

  They’d traveled the better part of ten days. Once the snow gave way to desert, the horse seemed to be more comfortable following the steel rails that had straightened out and which now raced toward the setting sun. Dia had been able to kill some slow-moving rabbits and an occasional fox, and the dried wood of the desert burned without much kindling. The nights had brought a frigid chill on, but nothing so brutal as the icy death in the Rocky Mountain pass.

  But it was time, and Dia decided that a knife to the head would be the cleanest and most humane way of ending Piva’s suffering. The horse had served her well with an even temperament. They’d covered hundreds of miles together, and without a proper stable or shoes, she’d simply worn out. Now in the desert, she had not even dead brush or grass to graze on, and her time had run out.

  “C’mon girl.”

  Dia had to pull hard on the reins to get Piva to come toward the fire. She rubbed the horse’s flank and then eased her down onto the ground, a position that was mostly unnatural for the beast. Piva neighed and flicked her tail, bringing a smile and silent tears from Dia.

  “You’ll be able to play with Decker again. Don’t worry. It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

  As the sun set and the fire crackled to life, Dia put Piva down. She had wanted to dig her a grave or mark the area somehow, but there simply wasn’t anything around except low-lying sagebrush and red rocks. The desert animals would come for the carcass, but that was nature’s way, and something the child of the ruins had accepted as part of life.

  The next morning, Dia walked with the rising sun to her back. She occasionally glanced down at the compass she carried, it being one of the few items belonging to Hado that she’d brought with her. Another—the silver charm Katy had given Hado in Erehwon—was around Dia’s neck.

  She’d spent several hours staring at the frozen pond after losing Hado. Dia had moved the horses across, and they’d avoided more thin ice, but the girl had at first blamed herself. After all, it had been her feet that had punctured the ice, and the hole she’d created that had pulled Hado to a cold and icy death. But the guilt and sorrow wouldn’t keep her alive, and Dia knew that Hado had given her life so that she could live. If Dia didn’t take her mission seriously and get to California with the hope of discovering and learning about the water filtration technology, then Hado would have given her life for nothing, and that was a regret Dia couldn’t accept.

  For many nights following Hado’s death, Dia had been woken by their last frigid embrace—the girl screaming at Hado to hold on, to kick her feet, to climb out. And all the while, Hado smiling at Dia as if in understanding that she wasn’t meant to complete the journey. When the Venganza warrior had finally slid below the surface for the final time, Dia had pulled away with nothing except Hado’s silver charm in her hand.

  She’d mended the chain with a rusty pair of needle-nose pliers and put it around her own neck after that. Hado had been Katy’s daughter, but Dia was not Hado’s. The charm wasn’t something Dia understood or felt as though she owned. Instead, she’d become its custodian, keeping the charm around her neck until it decided what would happen next.

  When Dia saw the signs for Virginia City, Nevada and its abandoned silver mine, she knew what the charm wanted. She understood how to honor Hado.

  In some forgotten moment during their endless march west, Hado had told her about a conversation she’d had with Lanette. The old hag had asked her what her dream was, and Hado had explained to Dia that the question had caught her off-guard. Nobody had ever asked her that before. Hado had gone on to say that she’d always dreamt of seeing where silver came from, a place “near Lake Tahoe,” Lanette had told her.

  That fleeting conversation flickered in Dia’s memory as she saw the old signs announcing the proximity of both Lake Tahoe and Virginia City, Nevada. Promises of underground mine tours and “striking it rich with silver veins” followed via the faded billboards erected before the world had ended.

  Dia left the rails and walked down the middle of the old highway marked “Route 341”—where sand had blown into drifts in the same formations that the snow had taken in the mountains. Piles of sand swooped up against old signposts as she walked closer to the silver mine, seeing long-abandoned shops lining the streets.

  She went inside a few. The glass of most had been broken long ago, and the sand had found its way inside, covering everything. But the dry air preserved many things, and Dia pocketed a few tea bags of peppermint tea from one place called Starbucks. In a back room of the same store, she discovered several cans of food without
labels. Dia dug through her satchel and found the can opener they’d found in Chicago, and the memory of Hado made her eyes mist. Two of the cans contained something pungent and green, so she chucked them aside, but one was filled with corn—the sweetest she'd ever tasted.

  She poked around a bit more, including a trip into one shop with shelves full of books. Most sat as they’d been left, well-preserved although a bit dusty. Dia picked one up and then dropped it, realizing that it was a useless artifact of a dead world. Instead, she put a knife and a hammer in her pack along with a few cans of food that she hoped were filled with more corn.

  The wind whistled across the desert and Dia could almost feel the cold air being whisked off the mountains and on toward the east. She pulled her cloak tight, walking faster toward the entrance to the abandoned silver mine.

  According to the sign over the cave-like entrance, the Chollar Mine had opened in 1881. Two skeletons sat on the right side of the entrance. Dia didn’t know how long it took for the desert air to wick the moisture from a dead body, but these corpses looked like they’d been here for years, probably decades. She stopped and looked around, listening but hearing nothing but the low whistle of an air current coming from deep within the earth. She stopped and sniffed, catching a whiff of pinion and sandalwood, but nothing else. No pack animals, and certainly no humans.

  And no water.

  That wouldn’t be a concern for Dia yet, at least, as she had enough in her canteen to get her to Lake Tahoe, where she could refill.

  She wasn’t here to tour the mines or make a life for herself, alone in this western settlement hundreds of miles from any tribes or clans. Dia had listened to the charm’s whispers, and now she understood how to finally give Hado’s spirit its eternal rest.

  Dia walked beneath the old mine’s sign and stood in front of a wooden post that had once been a gate to keep people out of the mines. Or it might have been a post for hitching up a horse. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was perfect.