by Luka Petrov
Hamish grabbed for Siobhan’s hand as they watched this sight for the first time in their lives. The only things that they had known about the world thus far had been death, destruction, and despair. Finally, they were able to experience safety, the first since they left their home from the physician who took them in. It was them against the world.
They fell asleep curled up with each other. They felt comforted being in each other’s arms, as if they were back in the womb, seeking solace in each other’s breathing patterns. So much time had past from the monastery that they were apart, at first it felt as though they were two strangers who shared the same genes. However, this moment allowed them to reconnect to their indescribable connection that they had cultivated since they were conceived. Hamish, still suffered insomnia from living in the monastery, where he was frightened during the night. He had been woken during his sleep during several nights and beaten. The monks made sure that he would never fully rest, ensuring a life of torment, especially when the night fell dark.
Siobhan had a much different experience at the monastery. She was regarded for her constant devotion to the Almighty, and she learned the scriptures quick and appeared righteous among her sisters, despite her plotting her and Hamish’s escape since the first day they split up her from her twin. This was the first night that she felt at peace and allowed herself to relax since they were sent away to the monastery.
The following morning, they arose with the morning dawn, that shone brightly through the uncovered, round windows of the lighthouse. Siobhan was the first to stir since Hamish found it difficult to fall asleep and had only done so an hour or so before the sunlight barreled through the window. She felt her stomach grumble as she hadn’t eaten all day yesterday. Perhaps she could find a fishing pole in the lighthouse.
Moving down the wooden stairs, she found herself back at the main door that Hamish had shot off the lock, rendering it useless from a secure protection. She noticed that this main door was ajar. Could someone have come in, or did the wind merely open the door? She quickly examined the entrance room, her heart racing. What if someone had been in here while they peacefully slept? Looking around the entrance way which led up to the wooden stairs, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
Her panic began to subside but she looked for anything that was not left the way that she had remembered before her and Hamish had settled in. She paced on the cement floor, her bare feet beginning to sting and turn numb from the coldness. As she had walked the entire cylindrical room, not one thing seemed to be missing or moved. There was not much in that room, it was mostly barren. There were hiking boots by the main door. Above the hiking boots were hooks for rain jackets. Gas masks filled a storage closet, and charts and logs were sprawled on a table against one of the curved walls.
Looking at the desk, the last log that was recorded was ten years ago. It appeared to be slightly after when her and her twin were taken to the monastery. Siobhan had concluded that this area must have weathered the same attack, and most likely the former occupant fled as they did from their island.
Siobhan continued to nosy around. She opened another storage closet where she found fishing poles set against the wall. There were drawers filled with weights, lures, and some dried bait. This was perfect! Her and Hamish had everything they needed to make a home. She ventured back upstairs and found Hamish still asleep. She was grateful that he had protected her and was truly her one steadfast constant in her life. She watched him sleep a little and bent down to kiss his cheek. She would never let anything happen to him. He protected her with his braun, but she could out smart anyone.
A few hours had passed and Siobhan was growing weaker from not eating and rowing the day prior. Hamish had finally stirred, he must have been exhausted from rowing the majority of the way yesterday. “Mornin’,” she said, smiling.
“Mornin’,” Hamish replied. “Must git sum food now, shouldn’t we?”
“Aye, my dear,” Siobhan answered. Not wanting to stir him while he got the rest he needed, but she was unsure how to fish. She had known that Hamish learned at the monastery, so her only option was to let herself go a little hungry while he rested or to interrupt his slumber and ask him to go fish. She decided on the former, expending her dwindling energy more so he could rest. She was very proud of her twin brother. He was not the brightest, but he sure was the strongest in every situation. She was so grateful that he was the one to rescue her from the Abbott. She was prepared to go through with the act and endure whatever torture he had planned, but she was relieved that she would not have those scars on her body or on her mind.
They went down stairs and Siobhan showed Hamish where the fishing supplies were kept in the barren first floor room on the lighthouse. They ventured outside, the breeze starting to blow from the ocean waves. Since the bait had dried in the storage closet, Hamish looked for small worms in the soil. Once they had a few worms with them, they climbed on the rocks, moving to where fish would congregate to feast on krill and small mollusks. Hamish showed Siobhan how to rig the fishing line. He first showed her how to attach the baited hook and lure to the line. Then he attached the sinker for a casting weight. He also attached a bobber a few meters up from the hook to provide floatation. The fishing hooks were made to hold worms or grubs, and Hamish was able to bury the hook point inside the worm body before casting.
He rigged both his line and Siobhan’s, and they both casted them. They took in the sunlight while they waited for the fish to bite. Their enjoyment of the Earth was few and far between. They knew of no other Earth, and their view of it was one of pure terror, however, this moment was one that they cherished.
Siobhan reached out her hand, and Hamish held it as they laid in the sun, it warming their bodies while they waited for the fish to bite. As the day turned into the afternoon, they were able to bring in several fish of mostly small mackerels. While Hamish cut and cleaned the fish, Siobhan made a fire. They roasted the fish on a spit, and it was truly one of the best meals that either of them have had in their lives.
They sat by the fire while they cooked their food. Both of them were shaken from the island they had just left, their home. The gravity of what they saw was starting to sink in. They realized that if they were left on the island they would have never survived. However, they wished that they had never been transported to the safety of the monastery. They wanted this nightmare to be over and they had wished that they were caught in the blaze of the town that they had grown up in, and it would all be over. They would not longer suffer.
Daylight was slowly getting dark, and Siobhan became mesmerized by the fire while Hamish went to scavenger around the area surrounding the lighthouse. As he walked, he looked for some sort of berries to eat, and to supplement his and his sister’s diet along with the fish. He had ventured several kilometers from the lighthouse and into the mainland. As he traveled, the grass covering the island turned into thicker brush. As he kept going, he found himself amongst a forest. He traveled more, and began to hear radio-static like noises reverberating in his eardrum.
This sound penetrated his brain, and he could barely think clearly. As the static filled his mind, he wandered back the way he came. As he walked back toward the shore, the sound subsided, relieving his mind, which became clear once again. As he retraced his path, he saw the blue flowers, providing their warning to travelers. He had unknowingly entered into the cursed land. Looking at his steps, he saw white powder all around the ground. It was odd that he had missed these signs while he was scavenging before.
His sister and him were very close to the ley lines that separated the cursed from the not cursed land. That would mean that an attack would be imminent, but when, he had no idea. He found his sister next to the fire when he arrived back at the lighthouse. She appeared to be well rested and well fed. This delighted the ivory giant, as he knew, but did not want to disturb her moment of peace. He chose not to share what he had witnessed as it would only threaten her sense of security. Therefore, he kept tha
t he had crossed the ley lines to himself.
Later that night, they both retired to the bed in the living quarters of the lighthouse, both with full bellies. Hamish had made certain the door was shut tightly, and he barricaded it with several furniture pieces. He moved the heavy-wooden desk over to the door, ensuring that the wind would not blow it open this time. He also stacked the desk chair onto the desk and propped it against the door. The door was definitely sealed shut.
Some semblance of safety and security had returned to Siobhan. For the first time since her and her brother had left the physician, the only parent figure that they knew, she had a feeling of normalcy. She fell asleep in her brother’s arms while he laid awake, staring at the rolling waves of the sea. He allowed himself to close his eyes, but he was still awake.
The night was peaceful and black, and Hamish, who had allowed himself to sink into a shallow slumber jolted awake. His body jumped and startled Siobhan. There was pounding and banging below. He swallowed the moisture he had in his mouth while he jumped out of bed, his heart sinking into his stomach for he knew what that noise was.
Methodically, he went to his backpack, gathering the pistol he had taken from the monastery and ejected the magazine. One of the small handguns he was able to maneuver out of the monastery was a 9mm Glock brand pistol. He inserted ammunition, one at a time into the top of the magazine. Re-inserting the magazine into the hand grip, he briskly and firmly moved it upward until an audible click could be heard throughout the room.
That noise put Siobhan on edge, as she knew although her brother was simple, he was responsive to perceived threats and acted with force. He tossed her a revolver. “Here, check and make sure bullets are in der,” Hamish uttered.
She checked and replied with a nod, getting herself out of bed. As Siobhan relinquished herself from the blanket comforter, Hamish used his palm to pull the slide of the pistol, releasing a round into the chamber. “We are ready,” he stated, coldly.
Siobhan gave another nervous nod, this time realizing that they were preparing for an onslaught of some sort, she led Hamish to crouch on the other side of the chest of drawers, using the picture frames that sat atop of it as cover. They stuck their handguns in-between the frames as they monitored the bedroom door, the only entrance into the living quarters from the first floor. One would have to travel up the stairs, and then move through the hallway to where they were.
Slowly, they heard the footsteps coming up to the second floor. The wood creaked as the stairs absorbed the weight of bodies moving their way up. “Oh God,” Hamish whispered to himself. Their eyes glued on the bedroom door, they both observed the turn of the knob and the click as the door unlatched itself from the doorjam and slowly swung open. The twins waited and nothing happened. The open door gave way to what appeared to be nothing, only a glimpse of the hallway. Both Hamish and Siobhan began to relax, as their heart rates returned to a normal rate and each of them breathed a sigh of relief. Wondering what all of the noise and eerie feeling that he had, Hamish stepped softly over to the open door.
As Hamish peered through the doorway, there was an audible breathing that came from the hallway. The breathing was quick-paced and it sounded labored. The mucous was so thick, that the breaths sounded wet. Then, before Hamish could realize, the entity came out from no where, and grabbed him around the neck with such a force that threw Hamish to the ground on his belly. This was an oddity for the ivory giant to have strength over power him. He laid on his stomach, held down by the dark-shadowy figure that Siobhan could barely make out from across the room.
The creature covered in lumps across his head was clothed in rags. He wore thick-soled shoes and head down the back of Hamish’s neck with one of them. The strength of this creature appeared to be much more than Hamish’s, based on how effortless the figure held down Siobhan’s dear brother. However, the creature had heavy breathing, and blood began to drip from the nostril of the creature onto Hamish’s bald head.
The creature was not alone, accompanied by three others that moved with the same softness as their leader. It was up to Siobhan to save Hamish, the only question was did she have it within her to do so. She fired the revolver, and the shot pulled to the right. Being the first time that she had shot a weapon, she had no clue how to even aim the contraption. However, it pained her to watch her brother suffer, held down by the scruff of the neck by the dirty boot of the old, vagrant mutant was all that she could bare.
Hamish laid so limp that it appeared he might have been knocked unconscious in the scuffle as the mutant brought him to the ground with such a force. Siobhan, worried that the mutant might have killed him in the encounter charged at them at full speed. The anger flowed through her like she had never felt before.
As she approached the mutant who held her brother down with its foot, she leveraged her foot off of the knee that he had planted on the ground, and in mid-air, completed a round-house kick to the mutant’s face, knocking him off balance and hurling him into the opened-door panel that rested against the wall. He had been knocked either unconscious or was dead from the blow. The force of the mutant from the kick split the door panel in half. Hamish was now free, but unable to move. He was indeed unconscious from the force that the mutant used to throw him to the ground face first.
Siobhan landed on her feet, surprised at what force her body was able to generate, yet ready for the next mutant. These mutants were used to engaging in battles with vagabonds. Taking advantage of the survivors who washed ashore every now and then was their way of accumulating items. The mutants had been watching both Hamish and Siobhan since they washed up in their boat two days prior. They had plotted their attack, casing the place the night before to see what items they could lift from them. Once they saw that fishing poles were left inside the lighthouse, an attack from the mutants became imminent.
The mutants had been bred from the raining fallout that littered the island occasionally, covering the soil like snow. Post apocalypse cults retreated to the forest with their theories of why the Earth had turned the way it had, subjecting themselves to the cursed boundaries or subjecting themselves to the elemental fallout that fell from the sky.
Two mutants remained as the one that Siobhan hurled into the door panel with the fore of her foot was rendered unconscious and the lumped head now had blood emerging from its nostrils. The mutants were stronger than humans, but seemed to be ailed by illness. Siobhan had hoped that it was not the Stranger’s Cold that they had, because they would be exposed.
Reaching for Hamish’s pistol, Siobhan acquired it in her hand before the mutants realized that he was armed as well. She shot one between the eyes, which she could barely make out from the tumors that ravaged its skull. That mutant fell to the ground backward, rolling over itself in the hallway front he force that propelled its head from the shot, and rolling down the stairs. Thud after thud echoed throughout the entire lighthouse as the body of the tumor-ridden mutant toppled over itself, finally ending on the cement-first floor.
Finally, the last mutant remained. This one grabbed Siobhan by the mouth, smothering her air passages as she watched the other mutant descend down the stairs. The arms of the mutant smelled like soured milk, and Siobhan was not able to sense this stench until the mutant was closer, its flesh now touching hers. The stench was pungent enough to make anyone gag, yet Siobhan was unable since her airways were now blocked by the hands of the mutant. The mutant dragged her to the ground, keeping a firm grasp around her mouth and nose, not allowing any air to pass through.
Hamish began to stir from the loud noise of the gun shot and the acrid bite the gunpowder/propellant filled the enclosed space. Siobhan mustered under the hand of the mutant, “Thank God.” Relieved that he was not dead. Hamish, prepared for vengeance, stomped toward the mutant who held his sister captive, holding her face close to his shoulder, his hand still smothering her nose and mouth. The giant from within had been awaken in Hamish and he would take no prisoners.
Realizing time was of
the essence, he ran to his bag to gather his favorite rifle, the one that he knew inside and out. The relic that was a distant memory of the First World War, the straight-pull bolt-action Ross rifle. The Canadian-made infantry weapon, purchased by the British was unreliable with British ammunition, but a precise sniper rifle nonetheless. Hamish knew this weapon inside and out, realizing during his training that the Ross rifle begged for a rimless cartridge, not to jam in a moment of need. Therefore, he made sure to pack the precise ammunition that he needed.
The Ross rifle was able to load easily, with the Harris Controlled Platform Magazine, which was a lever on the right side just in front of the receiver that could be depressed to make loading easier. Hamish removed the ammo from the bag and loaded the Ross rifle in under ten seconds. He relied on this weapon because of its accuracy, and with precision required for this shot, a revolver that pulled to the right was not going to handle the job. He did not witness Siobhan’s shot, yet knew that revolver behaved inconsistently.
He aimed the rifle at the tumor-laden head of the mutant, noticing the tears that streamed down Siobhan’s face. She knew her brother had became a brilliant marksman and she was not in any danger, yet the breath that she drew was warm and muggy. The oxygen needed to keep her brain conscious was dwindling as it was apparent that she was becoming light headed and dizzy. Siobhan was on the brink of passing out.
