by C A Gleason
Balancing her in one hand, he scooped up a rock, considering what to do with it.
But threw it away as hard as he could.
It got smaller and smaller in the sky and then he pulled his eyes away from it, encumbered with shame. He held her with both hands again. He didn’t hear the rock land in the distance.
Doing something so appalling was a fleeting thought, but the idea of her so hungry and miserable made him so mad, he wanted to punch the ground until there was a hole.
But a rock was no way for a new life to end. He ran a hand down his long, thick, beard. Doing so always comforted him.
“She must live.”
She shuddered at the sound of his voice. With everything he’d been through, helping the baby survive would be a challenge, especially because he didn’t know what he was doing.
He wasn’t hot, but sweat droplets dripped down his forehead and pooled into his thick eyebrows. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. During his thinking, the baby grew quiet. Asleep? Hopefully.
He looked down at her to see her staring up at him. She looked sad. She wanted something to eat. She was exhausted, her eyes fluttering, chin quivering, and then he thought he saw something else. He couldn’t be sure but it looked like hope.
Could someone so young think? Yes, they could, in their own way, because hope was definitely what he was seeing. Optimism in the face of a brand new human, wanting Onnin to somehow take care of her. Keep her safe.
For some reason Onnin felt his own lip quiver. She was so light. He could have held her in the palm of one of his hands. She probably weighed less than a normal baby because of what she’d been through but also, she was days old and starving.
He held the girl baby close to his chest and carefully petted her tiny head as gently as he could—he saw it disappear under his fingers—and sensed she was already asleep.
Onnin’s awareness of Home roared back. The danger of it. She was in danger and would be until she was old enough to take care of herself. And she would have to be much, much older for it to happen.
He wasn’t sure what to do first, so he set her down again to conjure something for her to eat. But he instantly regretted it. She woke up and started to wail even though he placed her down as gently as he possibly could. It forced him to pick her back up again.
Then he held her close and walked around in slow circles, remembering having seen women do that, gently jostling her, trying to get her to stop crying and go back to sleep. She was exhausted because her eyes closed again and she went silent.
He guessed she recently ate, otherwise sleep probably would have been impossible. There must be food nearby. He held her to his chest with one hand, slowly went down to one knee, and rummaged through the dead man’s belongings with his free hand.
What a relief.
Three bottles.
Two empty, but one was full of milk! Milk!
He stood, and exhaled with relief. The girl baby would live longer. She would be able to eat once she woke up again. If she wanted. He felt himself grin. The grin felt awkward, so he stopped, making himself frown instead.
Milk had come from her mother. Or some other woman. Where was she? Why wasn’t she with her?
If they brought three bottles, then they were obviously planning on going farther than they’d already gone. Where were they headed? Maybe the girl baby’s mother died. Too many questions and Onnin didn’t know any of the answers.
Everything was about to change. At least for a little while. What jarred him was that he didn’t know what was going to happen next and now, all of his decisions affected another person. He grumbled.
He’d seen babies before, of course, and he even heard them and found their innocence soothing, but he’d never been responsible for one. He’d never even held one before today. He forced an exhale. Followed by an inhale.
There was one bottle full of milk, which likely meant she would live long enough for him to get her somewhere safe. He would give her a little at a time so it lasted.
Again, he was aware of how out of control he felt. His palms continued to sweat. He looked down at her to see she was awake again and looking up at him.
He tried to smile but he was suddenly aware of how big his teeth probably were, so he stopped. She looked like she was about to cry again.
“Don’t cry.”
She slammed her eyes shut and did indeed cry again. His words did nothing to soothe her. Would a grin make a baby cry? Maybe it was his beard upsetting her.
Then he remembered someone mentioned that his voice sounded like gravel mixed with thunder, which was the opposite of a woman’s.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered.
She kept on though, ignoring his request, even as he continued to do his best to comfort her.
22. Royah
She was on her own. Dressed in a space suit worn by the colonists before the air was breathable. She even wore a helmet.
Everything happened so fast. She couldn’t shake a familiar feeling, when something was going to happen but never felt like it would happen at all. Then all of a sudden immersed in those predicated decisions.
Part of her wanted to go but another part of her wanted to remain. To remain mommy’s little girl. It was a peculiar feeling going out into the world. A finality to it. Change. Something she had needed to do at some point.
No matter how dangerous the world was.
No exact path was established by her and her mom to reach AD, and afterward she could go wherever she wanted. She didn’t know where that would be.
She would return to Westo to visit her mom of course, to inform her of what was discovered—hopefully she would find something of interest—but after that, decisions were up in the air.
The repercussions of the path was undetermined, and it was thrilling but she’d never done it before. She always remained close to town and wary.
Maybe that was the problem.
After gathering everything she would need until reaching another town—most importantly her guns, food, one canteen filled with water, another filled with protein juice, and binoculars—she spent more time with her mom.
Then her mom had gently reminded her she should leave soon, and then she was on her way, on her quest, leaving bad memories and constant wariness behind her.
Royah headed out before the sun rose. She always enjoyed starting on a task early, as her mom did, but it was also so that she could leave unnoticed. There weren’t too many people who were awake while it was still dark.
Even now, behind the clouds, the sun was a bright smear in the sky.
It was probable that her new path would give way to new troublesome situations but before, she wasn’t prepared. Now she was ready for anything Home threw at her.
Her wariness of Westo would be with her wherever she went, having survived traumatic experiences, which made her think that she was likely to expect trouble.
She’d be a fool to think all her troubles were farther behind her going forward, but a different kind of wariness encompassed her. For some reason, she felt like she was more in control.
More danger surely lurked on the horizon, so she remained constantly aware of her surroundings, keeping her eyes moving. There would always be those who desired what she carried. Especially outliers.
She wasn’t familiar with her future destination, owned a map showing mysterious locations along the way, and although she was nervous, she was ready.
Curiosity eclipsed danger as she pondered AD, the necklace, and what it all might really mean. Her mom was so desperate to help her improve her life, she thought maybe she’d conjured the mystery to get her to leave Westo. Royah would know soon enough.
Mayah was seriously concerned to send her only child out into the world alone, nervous about her safety, as any mom would be, but believed in Royah’s potential. It was flattering her mom thought so highly of her.
Royah’s ponderings—they were on purpose—distracted her from what endangered her most, whic
h was being a woman. Men thought she was beautiful. She was told so and saw the looks they gave her.
Their eyes lingered on her curves when they thought she wasn’t watching and sometimes even when she was. Except she needed to remain aware of what was happening, as all women did.
Generations of instinct couldn’t erase how sometimes, women were treated as property. Taken in despicable ways beginning on Earth. The behavior of being cautious about men was passed on even to the females of Home.
All men weren’t bad, some were good, but there weren’t always good men around to be protectors. It was wise for almost everyone, except children, to know how to handle a gun, especially women.
The danger men represented was the main reason her mom wanted her to leave Westo on the quest to investigate AD, to find out what information might be on the necklace, and to get her away from constant lurkers.
A new place might pose the same threats or worse, but it might also be safer, and no matter what, it will be different.
Her mom’s instincts were sound, and she knew Royah couldn’t anticipate everything she would encounter, but if she believed it would be better for her to live somewhere other than Westo, then so be it.
How much better her life could be, would be known upon reaching her destination. Except the place she was headed for, was hundreds of miles away. There would no doubt be many obstacles in between here and there, she was sure of it.
When bad things happened before, she’d been caught off guard; but now she felt ready. From now on she always would be. And Royah needed to get her mind right. She ignored the trauma for a long time, almost pretending it never happened. Easier. But she knew it wasn’t healthy.
It was better to remember, and understand being a victim of such a heinous act, heinous acts, didn’t define who she was as a person. As a woman. Nothing to do with her other than her being female.
Those outliers would have chosen any woman to violate, and what mother wouldn’t want to avenge her daughter? Royah would feel the same way if she were in Mayah’s situation, but she hadn’t wanted to endanger her mom’s life.
Kept her pain to herself as best she could, and the men responsible moved on. She didn’t want to explain what happened but the trauma affected her behavior. And moms know.
After finally revealing what happened, Mayah wanted to hunt them down and kill them but they left town long before. Neither of them knew which direction they’d gone.
Royah couldn’t even have described them. Her memory of the attack was fragmented and for some reason all of them looked the same; skinny, wild-eyed, and haggard.
Royah barely wanted to get out of bed in the morning and knowing why made Mayah so mad, it practically aged her.
Being depressed went against Royah’s normal behavior because she was happiest when she was busy helping her mom with whatever needed to be done around the house, so it was quite obvious something terrible had happened.
The crime was something they both wanted to put behind them, which was why Royah was so sure Mayah was determined to send her out on the quest.
Except the reality was that she was suddenly thrust into unfamiliar territory; struggling, surviving, and having no one in her life because she no longer lived at home. And there wasn’t even a man in her life.
There weren’t a lot of choices for her romantically when it came to men. To meet someone new, she needed to go to a different town. Traveling from town to town was precarious to say the least, filled with brutes looking to steal or commit murder.
Royah was still young and would eventually meet someone special. She would put all of what she’d been through behind her, not be so afraid of Home, and be more optimistic about her future. But she wished she could meet someone of interest sooner rather than later.
Having been through so much turmoil, she wanted it. Except she was smart enough to know life didn’t always work the way she wanted it to. She still wished it could.
On the other hand, she was ready to be alone. Part of her yearned to remain independent and find out what she could accomplish by herself. She brought guns with her and was ready to get into some shootouts if necessary.
She didn’t enjoy shooting as some did. Guns were to ensure she didn’t get herself killed without being able to defend herself.
Trouble would probably arise first if someone wanted to steal something in her backpack, the weapon she held ready as she walked, or wanted her as a woman against her will.
But she’d never allow any of it to happen again. She’d rather die. Her getting into a gunfight was entirely up to others.
As far as quests went, she was well prepared to say the least, mentally and physically, and that included her small armory.
She put one foot in front of the other. She kept heading in the same direction on a somewhat predestined path. She kept her head on a swivel. She already felt better about going.
When she needed to, she stopped so she could check the map, something she did regularly, to ensure that she was headed in the right direction and not drifting toward a wrong one. She did so by triangulating her position.
It was interesting that a small space on a map could be completely obscured simply by placing a fingertip over it. And take so long to travel to on foot. A short distance when merely looking at it but actually making the trek was a long way.
Whatever happened might become another story to tell loved ones later in her life. She heard of others going on adventures. Why should she be any different? It was another aspect of leaving Westo; the adventure of the unknown.
The dirt suddenly sizzled ahead. A small poof on the ground. Then she heard the echo of a gunblast.
She froze. “Already?”
The adventure has definitely begun.
23. Yohiro
While making his way, he stopped to peer around in case anyone was minding his business. As he searched for potential threats, he took the opportunity to set the pack of currency down and rest.
The moment his father gave him the fireproof box filled with currency and told him to hide it somewhere, he knew exactly where he was going. He’d been there before. Discovered the place by accident.
He hadn’t explored its depths due to how precarious the fall might be. Just the entrance.
As far as he knew, he was alone discovering the place since the war ended. But he never told anyone about it. Not even his father. It was a place he would go to be alone.
The mysteries within the structure itself—not all of it was intact, far from it, hence the danger—reaffirmed he was smart to keep it a secret. He didn’t know what was below, so he wouldn’t even be able to explain.
He would climb down past the opening. He always wanted to and now there was a legitimate excuse. Everything was about to change.
The entrance opened horizontally at one time. Whether it was designed to release weapons or the owner obtained it for his personal use was difficult to determine. Outside the structure, the ground above was damaged from some sort of explosion. No doubt it happened during a battle.
Whatever was inside and below the surface, near the opening, would have fallen deeper after the top floor was destroyed. Much of it was pulverized. If anyone was near an explosion of such magnitude, they were either killed or fell into the hole that was created.
And anybody close to the blast, would have probably been knocked unconscious from the concussion of it. Viewing from above, what was intact at the lower levels proved whoever lived there was long dead. And then hundreds of years passed.
There were still pieces of the opening left over, but almost all structural integrity was blown apart. Materials from Earth Yohiro read about, jutted out in all directions.
The dangerous points were sharp. If he lost his balance, or his grip weakened and he fell, he’d likely impale himself. Then probably bleed to death.
Except that wasn’t going to happen. His climbing skills were too proficient and the spiked protruding metal innards of what was the structure, allowed hand ho
lds.
Before he lowered himself below, with the weight of the currency strapped over him—he’d removed all the bills from the box and put them in a pack—he took one last look across the flat to make sure he wasn’t followed.
It occurred to him the place should have been discovered and scavenged already. But someone might have fallen to their death attempting what Yohiro was about to do. He might find a corpse. Or corpses.
But as far as he knew, it remained a secret. He was meant to find it. The flat, which was a constant shrieking wind, was instantly quieter as he ducked below ground. It was unnatural for people to be underground. It was the first time Yohiro experienced it.
The currency was a lot heavier when it was slung over his shoulder. Weighty as it bounced off his upper hip. Almost painful. Felt heavier than carrying it in his hands, as he’d done on the way here. He tried not to allow his legs to remain airborne by just his handgrip for too long.
He was already getting tired. And there was plenty more of the same physical challenge. Holding his own weight was something else he never did before, but was sure he could. Even before he’d done it, he believed he would one day.
Still, if he slipped and fell, no one would even know where to look. He wouldn’t be found until someone else discovered the place. But who in their right mind would come down here? And the fall might not kill him immediately, so he needed to be careful.
There was an outcropping of cement, a ledge below, he saw, and it grew larger the farther down he climbed. Sunlight still shafted above because he wasn’t so deep yet. Not as deep as was possible. But the climb down was already taking him longer than expected.
Below the outcropping was nothing but blackness. How was he supposed to see down there, once the sun’s rays disappeared? His eyes needed to adjust. Even though he might soon be blind, he would adapt. He must. His plan was to figure out his lack of one.
Yohiro didn’t know what was down there as he stared into the murky darkness below the ledge. There’d been a catastrophic explosion above him at some point in Home’s history. It was possible the destruction made the hole even deeper.
