Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence

by Seymour, William J.

  “Got anymore of that jerky? I’m dying of hunger over here and as you can see, it is going to be a long damn time before we find anyone out in this wasteland,” she says.

  Without turning her head, they continue forward. Merchant shifts his bag over his shoulder and reaches into his pocket. A few more sticks won’t hurt her, but he begins to wonder how much more she can fight the disease. She hasn’t said anything, but the limp of her left leg is so pronounced that she’s leaving a widening trail in the dust behind them.

  Strong girl. Should have died months ago, but she keeps moving along. He takes a hard look at the shoulder bag held tight against her hip. Empty of everything but that damn pistol, she clings to it for what little life she has left.

  “You keep telling me about this ‘Collector’ and I’ll give you a few more pieces,” he says.

  She turns to him as if he had just insulted her mother and then looks back in the direction from which they came.

  “How about you start with where you were last night,” she responds.

  Putting her good foot down on the ground she watches as he continues to walk without her. His hand drops the dried meat back into the pocket of his open coat and he doesn’t slow a step.

  “Wait!” Red scrambles to catch back up. “You said you had a few pieces I could borrow.”

  Merchant doesn’t bother. Sweat beads on her face and what little hair she has left is plastered to her cracked scalp. The bright sun, high enough now to turn the sky the brightest blue it has been since the bombs dropped, burns and peels her skin away like dried paper. To his dark scalp and dry skin, the heat is a touch of home.

  “And you have something you are hiding from me,” he answers.

  “Fine, you asshole. When he finds us, you didn’t hear any of this from me,” she says.

  The sway of his shoulders and gait open his jacket across his bare chest and she licks at her lips as the tips of the jerky stick out.

  “We called him the Collector because that is what he does. At first it was just random things we stole from people who were too dead to care. Pictures, dolls, mostly children’s toys for some demented reason. Then one day it all changed,” she says before trailing off with her eyes locked on the never-ending flat land before them.

  “You stopped there every time. What changed?” Merchant growls.

  “His mind. He was a reasonable person to talk to before he cracked. Muttering about always being correct and how family was meant to be together.”

  “Family?” Merchant asks.

  He stops walking, and she stumbles into him. Her bad leg goes crooked, and she tumbles to the ground.

  “Fucking prick!” she screams.

  His hand envelopes hers like a small child’s as he pulls her to her feet.

  “You said family,” he ignores her screams.

  “Didn’t hear me the first time? Yeah, he started running on and on about family. Like he was this entirely different person. That’s when he started demanding we bring families to him. Like he wanted them all to be his own little cult. Or he was searching for them. We never could figure it out. His mind was so far gone that ramblings of his brothers and them finding him trailed off into languages we couldn’t understand.”

  Merchant grabs her by the arm and he can feel the bones beneath crack under his grip.

  “You brought him entire families?”

  She takes a swipe at the jerky in his jacket and misses badly, the end result nothing more than a light slap on his chest. With a squeeze her knees begin to buckle but he holds her steady.

  “Of course not, you fucking idiot. We brought him whoever we could find. Men, women, and children. Whatever we could get our hands on. It was all the same to him. Have you seen a complete family in this place since the war started? What wasn’t killed by you and your fucking bombs and poisons, the infected quickly took out. Anyway, with each new person he grew wilder and screamed that Daddy’s favorite was coming to town. If it wasn’t for fear of the monster he’d become, I would have left him to rot in that pit like I did those loonies and their camp.”

  He lets go of her arm and blood and pus leaks from new cracks and tears in her skin.

  “Afraid of him, why?”

  Red licks her lips and an unsteady hand reaches slowly for his jacket. Quickly, he takes out a piece and lets her take it. She hardly has the wrapping off before tearing it between her teeth. A small chip of a tooth flakes off over her bottom lip as she devours it in seconds.

  “Those people down there weren’t like me. Real infected. That monster in that camp with all his devoted followers was just some crazed doctor with too much time on his hands. Down in that pit. That is where the real demons were.”

  “You were feeding those people to them?”

  Merchant can feel the fires in his chest flaring to life. An inferno searing at his skin and the bones growing red hot as he thought of the women and children screaming as they were led down into that hellhole.

  “Really having a hard time keeping up, aren’t you, demon?” Snake-Eyes asks.

  The ghost is sitting on a lawn chair with a drink in his hand. One of those fruity red ones with an umbrella on the top. Large drops of condensation run from the rim down until they drop and disappear before hitting the dry dirt.

  “Of course not, you bastard,” Red answers, her shoulders pull back and she stands as straight as her bum leg will allow. “Those infected who tried to eat you down there, WERE the people we brought to him. He was changing them all. But it wasn’t like me and the others. We were experiments gone wrong. These were the real infected. Their minds gone. Eating each other and anyone else they could get their teeth into.”

  Merchant turns back to the west. He’s had enough and continues down the road. She struggles to keep up but her dragging foot is a constant against the sound of silence that follows them.

  “Wait, you said I could have several pieces,” she says.

  Two more chunks of dry meat fly over Merchant’s shoulder and land in the dust covering Interstate 80. A little dirt doesn’t stop her, and she is munching away like a child in a candy store.

  “Looks like your ‘Collector’ is going to have a little time to catch up,” Merchant grumbles.

  “Oh, come on, do us all a favor and throw yourself down there. You know you want to,” Snake-Eyes mocks.

  Red is too busy licking at her fingers and chewing at what little nails she has.

  “Huh, why?” she asks as she stumbles passed him.

  With a grip that pops the joint of her shoulder beneath his fingers, he stops her before she can walk too far. Tiny rocks tumble over the edge and if she wasn’t as light as dry paper, she would have followed them down.

  A giant chasm cuts through the highway. Forty feet at least separates them from the other side. The sound of water rushing over rapids carries up the crevice like thunder.

  “That can’t be,” Red says.

  “Come on big guy, throw yourself in. I want to see if you float,” Snake-Eyes says and then walks off the rock.

  The ghost falls into the darkness leaving a puff of smoke in his wake. A small smile pulls at the corner of Merchant’s lips.

  “The wind is really nice on the way down,” Snake-Eyes says from behind Merchant’s shoulders.

  A cold chill runs down his skin as the ghost reappears.

  “Is it the same river from the pit?” Merchant asks.

  Red turns her gaze north and south, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “It can’t be. We are what? Several weeks to the west? I was certain we left that behind us.”

  The heavy army bag hits the ground like a boulder.

  “Is the water down there poisoned?” Merchant asks.

  “How the fuck would I know?” Red responds, but he isn’t looking at her.

  His gaze creeps over his shoulder and the smile on Snake-Eye’s face is wide and full of perfect teeth. One of the serpent irises winks as smoke swirls in the empty sockets of his head.

&nb
sp; “Never mind,” Merchant grumbles. “We’ll find a way around.”

  Lifting his bag back onto his shoulder, he turns south and begins the trek along the cavern’s edge. Red hesitates a moment before shrugging her shoulders and following along. Two travelers making their way around a split in the world with an army of dead following in their wake.

  “It would have been so much more fun to see what kind of splash your broken body would have made falling from up there,” Snake-Eyes says.

  The ghost crouches down, sniffs the water, and wrinkles his nose.

  Merchant looks back the way they have been traveling. Four hours and they have managed to follow the flow as the ground descends beneath their feet and what once sounded like a raging monster pulling to escape insufferable bonds, is now a wide impediment of small rapids and a few boulders large enough to remain above the surface. The cliff face they followed rises high in the north, clear drops of jagged stone like the ax of God himself gouged a hole directly into the center of Nebraska.

  “Is this the same water we left behind us?” Merchant asks again.

  Red turns her head, but he isn’t looking at her.

  “You talking to those ghosts of yours again?” she asks back.

  He glares at her for a brief moment and then turns back to Snake-Eyes. The ghost has his shoe off and gingerly puts his foot forward, a look of fear creasing his face as his big toe gets closer to the water.

  “Now the question that you should be asking is would you believe me either way?” Snake-Eyes returns before putting his whole foot into the water.

  With a gush of mist and steam the ghost vanishes as the water opens and swallows him whole. Merchant doesn’t move or even bother. His life would be better if the bastard did actually disappear.

  “I saw the look on your face, you didn’t even care. asshole,” Snake-Eyes complains as he rises from the rolling broth of white foam to float above the surface. “And for that I won’t tell you what this is.”

  “You’re as useful dead as you were alive,” Merchant grumbles and turns back the way they came.

  Dark shadows and a veil of black moves closer as the sun falls for its evening rest. The west is a field of fiery red and the heat of the evening runs away in fear of the coming chill of the night.

  “I’m not a big fan of crossing this at night,” Red says, “but if it puts some distance between us and everything on this side, I’m all for giving it a try.”

  Kicking at the ground, dust picks up into the air until her shoe catches the edge of a dry stick, brittle and flaking at the touch. A quick pitch has it floating in the air and making a splash hardly noticeable over the turbulence of the water.

  Bobbing and swaying above the current, the stick floats and spins its way downriver.

  “Looks like we don’t have as much to fear this time, big man,” Red says before licking the tips of her fingers.

  Merchant hefts his bag higher onto his shoulder, but he doesn’t take his attention away from the encroaching darkness.

  Yes, it would be better if they were on the other side.

  Snake-Eyes dances over rocks, waves, ripples and rapids as Red and Merchant wade into the water. As cold as ice and as strong as a pack of wild dogs, the current pushes and pulls them as they move through. Walking in ankle high mud, each step is heavier than the next and Red’s bad limp has her moving more to the south than she does to the west with each step.

  “Damn… bitch… is cold, isn’t she?” Red calls out.

  She is now easily ten feet further downstream. Her teeth rattle and he can hear the bones and joints crack as they slam together.

  “Keep pushing. Once we get to the other side, we’ll sit and rest,” Merchant says.

  He can feel the cold seeping into his jacket and pants, but it does little to squash the fire burning through his skin. The river is up to his waist, but it almost has her by the breasts.

  “Yeah, and maybe something to eat as well,” Red struggles to add.

  Anger and fire roars through Merchant’s chest as the current changes beneath his feet. Like a hungry bear he can hear the difference in the water before they can see it. Something is trying to stop them from crossing. Planting his feet, he turns to look upriver.

  The shadows are moving. At first only the corners inch closer, but there is no hiding it. The red light of the sun, stretching as far as it can go from the edges of the horizon, does nothing with the wall of black steaming along like a freight train.

  “Red, get moving!” Merchant shouts.

  Heart racing, his legs pump through mud and muck as he drives his large frame with the current as it rushes toward his half-drowned companion. She looks no better than a wet rat as she drags her foot across the bottom. Hands clutching her shoulder bag over her head, her crippled leg anchors her within the river as the rumbling turns into a thunderstorm bearing down on them from every side.

  “Get a move on!” Merchant yells.

  He is almost to her. Her muscles are pulled taught and her teeth are bared as she fights the restraints that hold her. Blood seeping from her lips is quickly washed away as water splashes against her face leaving red and brown streaks against the pale white skin.

  “Red, move!” Merchant gets out before the wall crashes in on them.

  The current impacts with the force of a runaway bus and even Merchant feels the ground go out from beneath his feet. Tumbling over, the water is all around him and he feels the sharp edges of stones cut and jab at his arms and body.

  He doesn’t know which way is up.

  Each breath brings a lung full of water and he coughs as the world spins filling his mouth with the taste of sand and oil. White flesh and skeletal limbs reach out for him as he’s swept away. Letting go of his bag he tries to catch Red as she spins into the darkness.

  His fingertips nip the edge of one of her legs, but he can’t get a grip.

  The emptiness swallows her.

  He tries to swim to the surface, but there is no way to tell which direction it is.

  He is drowning. No matter how many times he pushes with his arms and legs, the end of the torment is nowhere to be found. His lungs burn. His limbs are going numb and the fire inside is choking beneath an ocean of water.

  The light begins to fade. Ahead, he can see ripples in the shadows.

  He reaches out to them. Feint silver strings swimming through his murky existence as chains of debt weigh heavy on his limbs.

  He’s going to sleep. The world has finally taken him. There will be no reaching the city that touches the sky. His nightmare is over. Pain pulses through his body and a smile cracks the edges of his lips.

  Then a grip of iron latches onto his wrist as the world fades into nothing.

  4

  What Doesn’t Kill Us

  The night is beautiful. A dark blanket filled with a million stars that reach into the heavens. Merchant relishes in the comfort of the pillow that softens the bed beneath his head. The shallow lapping of water in the distance is music as he takes in a deep breath, the clean smell of fresh water and trees reaching the peak of the spring season tastes terrific on his tongue and he can’t get enough with each breath he takes.

  He closes his eyes. The warmth of his wife, body curled into his and the sound of his boys sleeping within arm’s reach comforts and rocks him.

  A shooting star streaks across the sky. Bright flashes of yellow and white dot the mosaic peacefulness above and he makes a wish.

  “Baby bear, look,” she whispers, the caress of his wife’s hair tickling the tip of his nose and chin.

  Shock.

  Confusion.

  Anger.

  Every emotion he has ever felt rushes through his body in the span of a heartbeat. His wife is not beside him. The smile is wrong. Lush, full, ruby red lips part and teeth as white as snow sparkle. Her eyes swallow him. Bright blue, he feels himself swimming through the universe, lost in their depth.

  A soft breeze picks up and the long strands of her dark hai
r tickle at his face. He wipes them away, his tongue thick and heavy as she grabs his wrist. Her chocolate brown skin a soft hue against the depth of his own.

  “Be silent, my general,” she purrs.

  He tries to answer. The taste of dirt and poison fills his mouth. It is hard to breathe.

  A finger touches the edges of his lips and the grueling filth washes away and he is whole.

  “You must keep moving,” she whispers. Pushing herself off the ground, she sits beside him.

  They are at the river. Water moves gently over the flatland, tiny ripples skipping over stones as the quiet rush of water and life sings a song as it passes. The white dress she wears shines like a star against the darkness of the night. Her shoulders roll, and she leans back, the angle and curves of her body the perfect image of everything a man could ever want.

  “They are beginning to know of your presence. From here on out the road will grow tougher. They will do everything they can to stop you. Even those who you aid will see you for who you are, but in their ignorance look to prevent your mission.”

  Merchant forces himself up. In the peace of the night, every limb in his body is old and cracks and pops echo into the evening.

  “Who are they? Why would they try to stop me? All I want to do is see…” he begins, and she stops him with a smile and a soft finger to his lips.

  “I will tell you no more. You know your mission and you cannot be deterred. For everyone and everything in this world to survive, you must reach the city. All that you have asked for will be found there,” she says.

  With a lean forward she is inches from his face. The smell of wild flowers and life fills the gap between them. Merchant’s heart races and he looks deep into those eyes. There is no darkness, only life and happiness can be found in the depthless sky of her beauty.