by Rick Wood
For someone so brutal, so lethal with her actions, she so… weak.
She seemed to calm down as the boy approached her. She stood and said something to him, and they moved on.
It would be dark soon.
He would need to act now.
He moved from his hiding place and quickened his pace in their direction. He tried to keep quiet, but the leaves crunched beneath the lightest step, and he could see the girl pausing, her ears pricking, a glance over her shoulder.
She knew he was there.
So how was he going to do this?
He wished he’d thought about this more. Not that he feared her, but she had shown that she was willing to kill, and his defences would need to be ready.
He stopped trying to hide his steps. He walked briskly, away from cover, so they knew he was approaching.
The girl stopped.
She grabbed the boy’s arm, curling his jumper up in his hand. The way she was holding onto him, it was as if he could fly away at any moment, and she was having to keep him on earth.
“It’s okay!” Ryker shouted out.
The girl turned instantly. Her knife was out before Ryker could tell where it had come from.
“Please, put your knife away,” Ryker continued. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
He put his hands in the air and emerged into her eyeline.
She didn’t shift, didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just stared at him, her fingers gripping the handle. Her eyes didn’t widen, and her body didn’t lurch forward, nor did she back off or recede.
She was ready and able, mentally preparing herself for whatever fight was to come.
“Please, put the knife away,” Ryker insisted.
She didn’t.
She remained motionless, staring. The boy shifted position behind her, so she was between them, and peered over her head.
“Look,” Ryker said, opening his jacket and showing his two knives. “I’m unarmed.”
He removed the knives from the inside of his jacket and slowly crouched, placing them on the ground. He took another from his ankle and placed it beside them. He took a few steps away from the knives and toward the girl, keeping his hands in the air, moving slowly.
“I’ve removed my knives. I will not hurt you.”
The closer he got, the more fire he could see in her. Her lip curled; her nose wrinkled into a snarl. She looked possessed by an animal, like a raging bull or untamed lion, ready to pounce, just waiting for the moment.
“My name is Ryker,” he said.
Maybe if he was on first-name terms, that would humanise him, and she would stop. She would back down, allow him to explain.
“What is yours?”
She didn’t answer. He edged forward again until he was just a few paces away. She did have the potential to be quite pretty; mixed race, black bushy hair, petite. She could probably still pass as a child. Yet her white vest was covered in mud, her arms were just as grubby, and bruises and wounds decorated her skin; if she were a house, the wallpaper would have peeled, and the walls would be crumbling.
“Please,” Ryker said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Another pause, and her knife dropped to her side. Tension left her body, she relaxed, and she even smiled.
“Fine,” she said. “You can come closer.”
He stepped forward. As soon as he was within her grasp she took his legs out with the swipe of hers, landed a knee on his chest that winded him and, as he collapsed on a log, pressed the point of the knife against his throat. Just a push of half an inch and he would be gushing blood and suffocating.
He cursed himself for allowing himself to be fooled. She was a dainty little woman, and she had brought him down so easily.
He reminded himself not to fight back.
If he hurt her, that would only turn her against him more.
No, he would have to rely on patience; what little of that he had.
Though he wished he could just knock her out and tie her up.
But such a thing did not inspire trust.
So he allowed her to think she was in control.
Just until his patience truly ran out, then he would slaughter this bitch.
He took the small blade from the inside of his belt and readied it by her waist.
Chapter Five
Everything about the man was off.
His hair, his clothes, his skin…
It was all so…
Wrong.
His hair was a dark blond that didn’t match his eyebrows. His skin was the kind of clean that only luxurious creams could provide. His clothes bore no rips, no tears, no mud or grease or holes. His swagger was that of a privileged white man, like those she met in the sanctity; he looked nothing like a ravaged soul struggling to survive against the elements and the monsters.
“Tell me…” she growled, her voice low and husky, far more intimidating than her petite stature should allow. “Who… you are…”
“I told you,” the man said urgently, his voice full of a panic that gave Cia a glow of satisfaction. “My name is Ryker.”
“Where do you come from, Ryker?”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”
She pressed the point of her knife a little more firmly against his throat.
“Tell me now,” she commanded.
He stared back at her and, in his face, she saw his reaction to how she must appear. She was once a vulnerable child chasing her daddy through the country, and now she was something else. A woman who’d killed the only man she ever thought could help protect her and Boy, that could love her.
Caution was key to her survival, as was the fiery side of her she no longer kept contained; so she let him see her as a rabid beast, as a feral creature ready to strike—if that’s how she needed to protect her and Boy, then that was how she would do it.
Slowly, his eyes floated away from hers, and looked over her shoulder, where she knew Boy was standing. She gripped the knife tighter and leant over him further.
“Don’t look at him,” she said. “Look at me.”
“I can help you,” he insisted.
“No one can help anyone.”
“I can, I promise.”
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
His expression seemed to turn. The fear he presented abruptly turned to impatience and, before she knew it, he took her legs out from beneath her; she was on her back, one of his hands pinning down her knife hand while his other held a small blade by her throat.
Shit.
How could she be so stupid?
She looked at Boy, upside down, poised between trying to protect her and running to a tree to cover his ears and scream.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “Go sit on the log.”
He feebly nodded, a worry he couldn’t possibly understand taking hold of his body, and he did as she told him.
She turned to the man mounting her, holding a blade he had supposedly discarded to her neck.
“I thought you threw all your knives away.”
He hovered the blade over her then stood, threw the blade away, and held his hand out.
“Now I have,” he said.
She looked at his hand, glaring up at him.
“Come on,” he said.
Reluctantly, she took his hand, and he helped her up. As soon as she was on her feet, she snatched her hand back.
And stood there.
Looking at him.
Awaiting his next move.
Wondering how she could kill him.
“Please,” he said, supposedly patient and understanding, yet she could see that anger in his eyes. “Just listen to me.”
She huffed, the only sign that she was listening.
“We have a community, a place where civilisation has remained, where we are protected. We want to invite you to a home there, to live.”
Cia recalled the last community she was invited into. It had seemed pleasant enough, until she had learnt that they pla
nned to impregnate her, along with all the other women, in an attempt to repopulate the earth. In the end, she’d had to allow herself to be fucked for her own survival—then she had killed the man in his grandest moment of pleasure and biggest moment of weakness.
“We’re okay, thank you,” she said, no hint of gratefulness to her statement.
“I really must insist,” he persisted. “We really are kind people.”
“There are no kind people.”
“It would be a place for you, for him, to stay.”
Cia looked over her shoulder at Boy.
She knew they didn’t have much left. Resources were running out rapidly. She was so hungry, and so tired. Death was looking like a welcome way out at this point; their only prevention of future misery.
But how could she trust this man?
There were no good people anymore. Once the laws of the land came shattering down, as did the morals of the many.
“Just come and have a look,” Ryker said. “Just come, look, and if you don’t like it, if it seems not right to you, you can leave.”
“How do I know you’ll let me leave?”
“Look, this is a two-way thing—we want you to come, but to fulfil a purpose. Everyone has a role there. Yours is to be a warrior. To help protect us.”
“I am no warrior.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. I have seen how you survive.”
“You’ve been following us?”
“I’ve been scouting you. Watching, to make sure you were what we needed.”
She looked back at Boy who sat there, waiting, not understanding.
“And what about him?” Cia asked. “He isn’t a warrior.”
Ryker looked to be chewing over a conundrum. To be considering something deeply.
Little did he know his answer would determine whether she was to go with him.
“Then…” Ryker said. “Then, well… he can come. We can find a place for him too.”
“As a warrior?”
“I am sure we can find another role for him to perform.”
She concluded that they had little choice. She would go, but she would be wary.
“How far is it?”
“A few miles. Follow me.”
She smiled at Boy.
“Come on,” she said. He scuttled over and Ryker began leading them through the woods.
As soon as he took the first step, the ground shook.
Then another quake.
And another.
And another.
Cia and Ryker looked to each other.
“That’s a Thoral,” she said.
He walked over to where he’d thrown his knives and picked them up. She readied hers.
“Let’s be quick,” he said, and set off.
She followed.
Chapter Six
Well, that was an ordeal.
It was as if the girl didn’t want a better life. Like she was happy roaming around the outside, fending for herself and this inept child. She was grubby and filthy, with dirt clinging to her arms and clothes like flies on shit.
He led them through the woods, hacking down branches and leaves as he did. He strode ahead, but he could hear her keeping pace behind him, just as he could see her shadow constantly checking behind her for the boy.
He knew that this boy was the reason for her hesitance. Just as he was the reason for her slowing them down, and for her aggressive response.
The boy had to go.
That was why he wasn’t leading them to their civilisation. Not just yet.
That was why he was leading them toward the Thoral he had seen from the high point atop the hill.
Just a stop off to dispose of the wretched, needy freak; then onto their new home, with a new warrior, ready to replace those they’d lost. As irritating as she seemed to be, her cautious hostility would help kept the community safe.
Not against the monsters, of course. They did not need to fight them. It was the Wasters who caused them problems.
“Is it much further?” Cia asked.
“Not much,” Ryker replied.
“Only Boy is struggling a bit.”
Boy? His name was just… Boy?
He wanted rid of the kid even more.
“Maybe you could slow down,” she suggested.
Maybe he could.
Maybe he didn’t want to.
The ground trembled. A thundering quake spread through the soil, raising stones momentarily in the air, and sent each of them to their knees.
Now that wasn’t the feel of a Thoral nearby.
That was the feel of a Thoral just around the corner.
He felt a little tinge of fear. The push of adrenaline when preparing for a fight.
But he was fine.
The Thoral wouldn’t touch him.
“That’s a Thoral,” Cia said, turning to Boy to help him up.
Well done you fucking genius, he thought
“It is,” he said, feigning surprise.
“Is there another way?” she asked.
“It would take us days to go around it,” he said. “We have to go through.”
“We’re not risking it.”
“It’s worth the risk.”
“I don’t care. You and I can run, but Boy will freeze up when he sees it. We’re not going past a Thoral.”
Ryker bowed his head, clutched his sinus and sighed a huge sigh.
He went to speak, to feign sincerity and concern, but as soon as they stood up another shake of the earth forced them back to their knees.
Another footstep shook them, followed by another, and another, and they didn’t bother getting up.
“It knows we’re here,” Cia said. “It’s coming for us.”
Ryker saw the terror in her face, not for herself, but for Boy. She held her hand out, pulled him close, and clutched onto him.
This kid would be harder to get rid of than Ryker had expected.
“Fine,” Ryker said, knowing it was already too late. “We’ll go another way.”
They went to get up but stumbled to the ground again. The thuds became quicker, and the trees began to bustle with the oncoming snorts of a ruthless monster.
Cia didn’t wait for Ryker. She grabbed Boy by the arm and dragged him, taking him back the way they had come. She remained crouched, forcing Boy to crawl, knowing the thuds would just throw her back to her knees.
Ryker looked behind him, willing the Thoral to appear, to get it over with.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He followed Cia and Boy.
Just as Cia turned her head, just as she averted her gaze, Ryker grabbed a stick and threw it at Boy’s legs. It stuck between his knees, tripping him, landing his head on a log.
Now Boy wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t get up. He was stuck, screaming, shaking his head, his eyes closed.
Cia tried to coerce him, but he wasn’t listening.
Ryker ran ahead, then turned and looked back as the drooling, menacing, sickening head of a monumentally large, carnivorous beast appeared from the trees.
“Leave him,” Ryker urged Cia. “It’s too late. We have to go.”
Chapter Seven
“Not a chance,” Cia refuted.
She sat before Boy, putting a hand on each arm.
“Boy, listen” she whispered.
He was shouting, breaking down, refusing to believe what was happening. This was what he did; when something he couldn’t handle happened, danger he couldn’t understand, he shut himself away. He covered his ears, shouted, shook his head. So many times she had resigned herself to death, believing she would be killed trying to coerce him to move rather than saving herself.
This time would be no different.
“Boy,” she whispered again, knowing he couldn’t hear her, but knowing that the moment she lost her calm was the moment she stood no chance of getting him back.
“We need to go,” Ryker insisted.
Cia ignored him.
The putrid, warm snort of the Thor
al’s breath upon her back made her shake. She readied herself for death, for the possibility of being snatched, taken, ripped apart by this creature.
Ryker leapt over her, toward the creature.
What the hell was he doing?
Risking himself for her?
But a glance over her shoulder showed no risk at all. It was if the Thoral stopped advancing. As if it saw him and ceased its attack.
Before she could watch any more, Boy shouted even harder, and she turned back to him.
Cia was sure she didn’t see Ryker calm the beast. There was no way it just chose not to attack because he was there.
She was seeing things.
Ryker must be fighting it.
Either way, she couldn’t look back. She had something far more important and far more precious to deal with.
She cupped Boy’s face, stroked his cheeks, kissed him gently on the forehead and rested her head there.
“Come on, Boy, listen to me,” she urged.
His eyes opened briefly, and she took the opportunity to look into them, to hold his face so he had to look back.
“It’s okay,” she said.
He cried and went to cover his eyes again, so she did the only thing she knew could work.
“The devil has departed,” she began; reciting the poem only they shared. “And you are not alone.”
Slowly, his cries stopped.
His eyes wandered toward the Thoral, and she quickly moved her head so he was looking at her.
“Take time to rebuild…”
“… our love in our home,” Boy finished.
“That’s good. So good. You’re doing so well.”
She kissed his forehead again, clasped his cheeks in her hands, looked into his eyes.
“Now get up.”
Without giving him a choice, she stood, grabbing him by the hand.
She turned back to Ryker, who stood there, alone. The Thoral behind him somehow… gone.
“How did you do that?”
He took out a gun and presented it.
“Shot this.”
“But I didn’t hear any gunshots.”
Ryker shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Cia waited for an explanation, but Ryker put the gun away and walked on.
