by C A Gleason
But he didn’t sense a wide open space or a bottomless pit. Some people had bad dreams about falling into nothingness. In those dreams, people fell until they woke up. He should know; he sometimes had the same dream.
A hundred feet more? How much further? He didn’t know. The area would be submerged in darkness by then, the sun having passed overhead.
No matter his sureness, the empty darkness could possibly descend for miles. He was probably allowing his imagination to get the better of him. He didn’t have experience being underground.
Climbing upward would no doubt be a challenge too, considering how difficult it was to descend, but knowing the way out would help. Whenever he needed to, or if he needed to stop, he planned on resting to figure it out.
At the moment, he was descending. Blindly.
It was possible to fall but his grip was as sure as his conviction. There was the extra weight of the currency, but he didn’t weigh much to begin with. He was smaller than most men, so even when dangling in the air, suspending all his weight with one hand, he felt in control.
And if he fell, he would grab hold of something quickly to halt his trajectory. There were plenty of handholds for the last second.
How disappointed his father would be in him if he fell to his death. Yohiro’s obligation to him was to stay alive with all the currency Ito had saved. It wasn’t just the pack and his father’s expectations weighing on him though; Yohiro needed to accomplish this for himself too.
The blackness below eventually became less so, more visible, as shapes slowly carved out before his eyes and looked to be as suspended in the air as he was. He was taking his time climbing down and his eyes slowly peered into the darkness.
Slow was working. Taking his time, he was climbing down past what used to be complete and sturdy floors. There was furniture. Pieces covered in debris and some were broken apart or shattered into splinters. He could still tell what they’d been.
How many people lived down here?
He thought he might be seeing things, because there was faint light below. Or maybe he was about to faint.
Except the lights weren’t moving. He wasn’t sure how illumination was possible down there, and it might be wishful thinking. He would soon find out.
The explosion in the past had been catastrophic above, obvious by how much destruction there was at the site with the harshest brunt of impact, but the further down he climbed, the better condition the structure turned out to be.
He bet the explosion was by a missile, and aimed above ground. It punctured the surface, but didn’t destroy the bunker, or whatever this place originally was.
The bunker looked like it had been quite comfortable before the war. Someone’s sanctuary maybe, and whoever it was had been rich.
Gazing upward, he’d descended so far he could barely see the sun’s light. Only sharp, wavy slices of dusty shadows. The opening he was climbing down likely was an elevator shaft.
The elevator itself was either destroyed when the missile hit, or the wreckage was at the bottom somewhere he hadn’t climbed down to yet.
It was impossible for anyone to be living down here anymore, at least no one from that time, but the lights were not his imagination.
They were a mystery with all the damage surrounding him. He imagined whoever called this place home was aware of the incoming attack, was attempting to escape, and they were in the elevator when it blew up.
Or maybe they were rising up to investigate what was happening? Either way, the blast killed whoever lived down here, or drove them away, and revealed the bunker for exploration.
More precisely, his exploration.
24. Royah
Royah hunched lower to the ground, her head on a swivel. Whoever was doing the shooting was probably an outlier. Someone who didn’t call a town home. Or maybe she hadn’t left town unnoticed after all.
And to be noticed so soon. The worst luck.
Maybe there were men watching her the whole time. Somehow figuring out her plan. Waiting for her to leave, so they could follow. Get her alone.
She was being paranoid. No one knew where she was going except her mom and maybe Fred. Getting shot at was startling, but she was armed too. She poised, displaying her confidence.
She was shot at again, but the shooter also missed again.
When she looked around, she didn’t see anyone. What was happening didn’t make any sense. Why would someone try to shoot her from a distance? To get what was in her backpack? She recently left Westo, so there was nowhere to hide.
She also didn’t know the territory and wasn’t aware of any hiding places. Plus, she was out in the open anyway. Her hope was to reach the nearest town, wherever it was, but she wasn’t about to pull her map out again and make herself an even larger target.
Holding her rifle menacingly, she turned in all directions, ready to return fire.
Someone was a lesser target crouched than standing upright, so it’s what she did. At least she had a better idea which direction the shooting was coming from. Whoever was firing at her was a poor shot. And also far away.
Remaining hunched, she searched for some nearby cover. Hoping for a large rock or something else she could get behind.
But there was just dirt and small dunes. The dirt kicked up again, this time at her feet. The blast was again followed by an echo.
She spotted a rise in the flat. Looked to be a hill. Not one high enough for what she needed, but considering the circumstances it would do. It wasn’t close, so she ran for it.
Then dropped down onto her belly. Aiming outward to where she suspected the shooter or shooters might be.
If there were more than one of them, then they were all rotten shots. Or their eyesight was poor. Or their guns didn’t have sights. All of it meant survival was in her favor.
There was another gunblast and another, except the shots were missing her entirely. There was one shooter and it seemed he or she was missing on purpose.
Trying to get her attention? It didn’t make sense.
She searched the distance, so she could possibly return fire. Eventually she noticed a man holding a rifle. Whoever he was, he shot again.
Royah saw the muzzle flash and the blast sizzled the dirt near her. Then she heard the shot.
He was definitely missing her on purpose. He was perched at the bottom of a hill, one Royah saw earlier in the distance. Before he had appeared there.
She didn’t see anyone else. It seemed he was alone. Dealing with a single threat compared to multiple, was preferred.
The shooter fired again, and again, and the shots were definitely meant to get her attention. It gave her a sinking feeling though.
Whoever was shooting clearly didn’t want her to move. His intentions might be worse than wanting to kill her. He could be crazy and wanted who knows what. But it probably meant he wanted her the way bad men wanted her, the worst way, which made him the worst kind of man.
No choice but to remain where she was and wait for the shooter to reveal his true intentions. She was a good shot with a rifle but not the best, so she didn’t want to shoot at him from here. She needed him closer. She might miss.
Walking away would no doubt cause him to shoot at her again and one of the blasts might harm her by accident.
So, she stood up straight, dropped her backpack and rifle, raised her arms, and waited.
Dropping her backpack was a trick. She wasn’t about to let anyone do her harm. Or steal what she possessed. She was pretending to give up. There was no way she would. Not without getting into a gunfight first. She’d kill whoever it was, if she had to.
But first, she’d find out exactly who he was, what he wanted, and why he was shooting at her. She quickly hid her pistol around the back of her suit.
As she watched him walk toward her, she witnessed the biggest man she’d ever seen approach her with a rifle aimed. He was wearing lengthy fatigues with his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.
The fatigues,
like much of the fatigues discovered, were what the tall soldiers wore during the war. Regular sized outliers tried wearing what he was wearing, or piecing armor together, so it fit them, but it never fit them right. Or protect them very well either.
The fatigues fit this man so well that they looked to be tailored for him specifically. The skin of his hands and face showing, were darkened by the sun. His long dark hair and beard were the color of charred cinders.
He was tall and also extremely muscular. She could tell even though he was clothed. Too many muscles and they were all huge. Everything about him bulged.
She should have been afraid of him, but she wasn’t, because he looked worried.
He stopped to set something down. Something of his own to protect? It looked like a small bundle to Royah, maybe something he stole from someone else, then he continued striding toward her, rifle aimed.
The giant man got nearer, and somehow he grew even taller. She realized she heard of him before. Over the net. She felt herself go pale.
He was the biggest man she ever saw, so it must be him. The one who supposedly ate children. She didn’t think it was wise to remind him by asking.
But other than holding a rifle and shooting at her with it before revealing himself, he wasn’t acting like a threat.
No matter what her intellect wrestled about the man, as soon as she got the chance, she would pull her pistol and start shooting. If he got aggressive. There was no way she could outrun a man his size or fight him physically in any way.
He needed to be a little closer though.
Before then, within those few seconds, she thought it would be better for him to think she didn’t know who he was. But also test his sense of humor. Funny people couldn’t be bad, right?
“You’re a horrible shot.”
The huge man squinted down at her as he lumbered toward her spryly, finding her eyes within her helmet, but said nothing in reply. He stopped and then looked her up and down.
Then he motioned for her to follow him with one of his massive hands. He didn’t seem to want her to go with him exactly, but to go see something.
She grabbed her backpack, but the man raised his rifle—without aiming it at her—and shook his head. Royah set the backpack down, worried about what might happen, but she followed.
Royah attempted to be friendlier than she felt. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t respond. He kept walking.
What was curious was, other than his appearance, he really didn’t seem threatening at all. His demeanor almost seemed as though he were a nice man.
But he couldn’t be. Not with everything she heard. If she got him talking, maybe it would alleviate her worry.
“You’re not really a cannibal, are you?”
Oops.
It just slipped out. He didn’t react though, which was a relief, but also curious. She also heard he ate thousands of people. According to all the gossips on the net. It was why he was so big.
It was rumored he picked a town to prey upon and would kill and eat everyone who lived there, before moving on. It was why there weren’t many towns with people living in them anymore.
He probably wanted her alive. Cannibals wanted their prey moving before they killed them and ate them, right?
Royah shook with disgust, gazing up at the giant man’s back. He was enormous. What she heard about him must be true. She hoped to know the truth before she met her end.
25. Royah
The gossip about the man could be true, or even some was, but she’d never shoot a man in the back. Unless he did something to warrant it. Up to now, he only got her attention by shooting his rifle.
“Did you hear me? I know who you are.”
The man stopped and turned toward her. He slowly shook his head before continuing on. Apparently, she was mistaken and did not know who he was. She wondered where he was leading her.
There was nothing she could do to stop him if he grabbed her. He would be too strong. He was armed, no doubt owned many guns, and even if she was able to pull her pistol out, she still might not be able to shoot fast enough to defend herself. He might get the first shot off.
All her preparation for the journey was for nothing. Even with all of her weapons, she brought along with her. Two pistols, a rifle, and knives, a small one and a big one.
Why was she following him though?
She wasn’t sure, and it was brief because they’d been in each other’s presence for only a few minutes, but when she’d looked into his eyes, she didn’t see a killer. The cannibal, or whoever the giant was, he almost looked kind. Even gentle. But also wounded.
When she believed something, it was almost always true. She was still ready to pull out her gun and shoot him, to remain alive and safe. Except he’d done nothing to her. She needed to remember that. But he could be like the others who tried to deceive her. She would wait and see.
Guarded, she followed, ready to react, and she grew even more curious about where he wanted her to go.
Maybe someone was in trouble. Fell in a hole or something and he couldn’t reach one of his giant hands inside and needed the dainty hand of a woman.
He led her where he’d set his small bundle on the ground, the one Royah suspected he’d stolen, and then pointed at her chest.
He seemed uncomfortable about the motion and dropped his eyes to the ground and stepped back.
“I don’t know what you want.”
He pointed to his own chest and then to hers. She still didn’t understand. He yelled, briefly, in frustration. It was a deep and loud bellow and it made her jump because it sounded more animal than man. But for some reason, she still wasn’t afraid.
His frustration didn’t seem directed at her, but toward himself. Then he bent down; Royah couldn’t quite see what he was doing because he’d blocked her view with his large back, but he was clearly digging for something.
She reached for her gun.
When he stood up straight, he turned toward her and in the palm of one of his giant hands, he held a tiny infant. In his other hand, was an empty bottle. He gestured at the baby with the bottle and then to Royah’s chest.
At her breasts.
He made a motion. Royah was supposed to take the baby. Babies needed to feed all the time and be changed every few hours. Taking charge of a baby was a serious responsibility.
For a split second she remembered what she’d lost, and also what those men took from her—her innocence—and felt the need to be a mother lately, but she pushed it all away. It was too painful and raw.
She didn’t even want to look at a baby, let alone one who wasn’t hers. Offered by some giant man known to eat people, while standing out in the middle of nowhere.
He had shaken his head, when she asked him about being a cannibal though. Then again who wouldn’t? Were his feelings hurt by the accusation?
Regardless, it was his baby, and he or she meant nothing to her. But why would someone offer a stranger a baby if it was theirs?
And it was impossible for the baby to still be alive, if the man was capable of what many people thought he was. She herself heard plenty of stories about him and according to everyone who talked about him over the net, he was the deadliest emerger who ever walked Home.
Royah’s ample chest was obvious to anyone who could see her. Even through a space suit. He could probably even see while aiming his rifle, so he obviously thought she was capable of breastfeeding. Or maybe he was so desperate that he was willing to try anything.
Royah examined him. He looked like he’d been traveling for years. His fatigues were covered in dust. It didn’t look like he slept much and large bags were under his eyes. Probably because of the infant. His hair was as long and wild as his beard was straggly and unkempt.
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Girl baby.”
His voice was deep and gravelly and it boomed, sounding like he were speaking right in her ear even though he was about ten feet away.
“Wha
t’s her name?”
He said nothing.
“You don’t know? How could you not know? Unless...She isn’t yours is she?”
He shook his head.
“Where are her parents?”
He stared down at Royah.
“You want me to take care of her? You can’t leave her with me. I could be the untrustworthy sort!”
His tone conveyed he didn’t believe her. “You’re a woman.”
“There are lots of women who are not nice—”
“Women know what to do with babies.”
“Being a woman doesn’t automatically mean I want one!”
“Please. She’s out of milk.”
Royah scoffed. “You think because I have breasts—”
“She won’t eat protein plant. I tried to get her to eat them ever since the bottle went dry, but she won’t and now I think she’s too weak even to cry.”
Royah instantly teared up. She couldn’t help it. The thought of a little baby suffering, no matter who she belonged to, was the saddest thing she’d ever heard. It was heartbreaking.
And he obviously didn’t know all emergers could drink protein juice. Even infants. Good thing too. Many babies were raised by men. Women tended to disappear.
He must know about protein juice. It was simple enough to make. All you needed was some protein plants and water and time for the mixture to soak. His desperation was likely as a result of a miserable baby and simply not knowing what to do next.
The baby was being fussy. He needed the help of a woman. She withdrew the canteen filled with protein juice.
“I’m not pregnant so I can’t, you know.” He looked worried, so Royah held the canteen up. “Protein juice. Made from the plants. Even babies can drink it.”
His relief was instant and his eyes got wide. He dug into his pocket and lumbered over to her. He was so tall she needed to look straight up in order to see into his face. He handed over the empty bottle, and Royah poured some of the contents of the canteen into it.
She wiped tears away with the back of a hand and held her arms out. He gently lowered the baby into her arms.
