Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “What’s that?”

  She flexed her toes, wondering how much she could move before the insect decided to fly off. It remained. “I dunno. He said they would hurt him. Besides, he wants to protect me.”

  “Well, you did save his life.” Karina tickled a giggle out of her.

  “Are you gonna marry him? You said you had first choice if a new man came to Querq.”

  Karina loosed an embarrassed laugh. “He’s almost as old as Father, Thea. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, the city people are making us strong. Soon, others will learn of it and new men will settle here. Querq will grow. I will have a baby of my own someday; for now I’ll settle for taking care of you.”

  Althea nestled tighter, leaning her head against Karina’s. She giggled as the dragonfly tickled its way across her foot. A moment later, the sound of men shouting to each other drew her attention. Two members of the Watch atop the wall in the distance cheered, enjoying some kind of man-games with their new rifles. Gouts of blue fire belched from the front as they whooped and hollered and unloaded on some poor, unsuspecting pile of scrap metal.

  She frowned. “Why did they have to give us city guns? Why does there have to be death?”

  “Be happy they let you come home. They must want very much to protect you, because they have given Querq so much. Our home was strong before, but now it is untouchable. If we have such weapons, the day will come when no one dies because they will be too frightened to attack us.”

  The dragonfly flicked out its wings, curved itself upward, and took off. Althea sighed as it weaved down the street. She thought of the apparition in the garden. “Some bads don’t care about guns, but I will stop them.”

  “I gotta pee. Will you be okay until I get back?”

  Althea sat up and swung her legs off the step. “Yes.” She grinned. “I’m not scared anymore.”

  The wooden plank step shifted as Karina stood. Althea closed her eyes, leaning back on her elbows and enjoying the breeze in her hair. Soft footsteps thudded through the porch as her sister stumbled into the house. She took in a deep breath of clean air, held it, and let it out. Querq had none of the sour smell of that awful city. She swished her foot back and forth over a dirt path that many years ago had been a paved road. One Division 0 hovercar glided overhead, a black rectangle against the sky with a cyan glow at each corner. A throng of children chased it, cheering. Medical supplies, clothes, gardening technology, toys, and stuff for schooling had gone over well with the locals.

  The gleaming vehicle circled, descending out of view past a row of houses on its way to the town square. Althea had gotten more than her fill of the high-tech city and felt no urge to pursue them, content to wait for Karina’s return. Ion engines whined off into silence, and an eerie feeling settled over the area. She sat straight and looked around at a quiet street. Nothing appeared to explain the foreboding sensation on her mind. Althea eased forward onto her feet and backed up the stairs onto the porch. Little fists trembled with annoyance.

  “Who’s there? What do you want?” Her voice came out threatening, determined.

  “Relax, girl.” A cloud of fog coalesced, through which Aurora stepped out.

  Althea regarded the nude, paper-white woman for a few seconds before offering an unimpressed smirk. “What do you want? I thought you were too civilized to run around with no clothes?”

  Aurora smiled, sauntering over to the hanging laundry. “No, that’s Anna. I thought you would prefer this to me wearing one of your friends. You didn’t seem to much fancy that last time.” She stood behind one of Karina’s dresses. “I can’t take objects with me when I walk through the astral world.”

  “You can’t wear people.” Althea held her ground. “I… I mean you shouldn’t. I told you to leave me alone.”

  The woman held her hands up. “Calm yourself, girl. I am not here to take you away again, and I am not here on behalf of Archon.” She offered a genuine smile. “I wanted to see what you looked like when you were happy.”

  A silent staring contest ensued. Aurora’s all-black eyes held as much warmth as possible given her outlandish appearance.

  “Fine.” Althea folded her arms, tapping her right big toe into the porch like an impatient woodpecker. “What do you want?”

  “I assume you are aware that he lived.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “You could have let him die.”

  A petulant sigh escaped. “No, I couldn’t. You don’t understand.”

  “Well, you know he’s only going to hurt others.” Aurora pulled her hair out of her eyes and held it down. “By the time this is over, more will die. I suspect a great many would if things go wrong. You could have prevented it if you left him there.”

  Althea gazed at her feet. “It’s bad not to help. If he harms others after I mend him, it is his choice. That is not my fault. If I had let him die, that would be my fault.”

  “You will see him again, child.”

  Her head snapped up, glaring.

  “Not against your will. When the time comes, you will choose to be involved.”

  Althea bit her lip. “I don’t want to see him again.”

  “Do not worry yourself about it now. Enjoy your home.”

  “Will they be hurt?” Althea took a step closer.

  “If you do not follow your instincts, the possibility exists.” Aurora closed and opened her eyes. “However, you are not one to ignore your instincts. The Phoenix has sharp talons, but a soft heart.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The sound of Karina walking through the house grew louder. Aurora glanced at the wall for a few seconds, and back to Althea.

  “You will understand when the time is right. Before I go, one more thing. Ask your father to send a patrol to the east into the foothills. Along the path they know as Four Zero.”

  Aurora’s body collapsed into a glittery silver mist just as Karina stepped onto the porch. She skidded to a halt in the spot where the visitor had just been, and shivered. At the look on Althea’s face, she ran over and took her hand.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I think so… Is Father still home?”

  “Yes. He is in the kitchen. It is his night for dishes.”

  Althea strode into the house, dragging Karina along by virtue of refusing to release her hand. Father stood at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, taking his sweet time cleaning up after dinner. Murder had several definitions, and what Father did to the Spanish song crashing through his teeth was one of them.

  “Father?” She stopped right behind him.

  “Yes, child?” His smile flattened at the urgent look in her eyes. “Is something the matter?”

  “Can you ask a patrol to go to path Four Zero? East?”

  “I can… Did you have a vision?”

  Althea’s face went blank. Saying ‘yes’ would be a lie. Inspiration struck, and she grinned. “A spirit told me to look there.”

  he brush snagged less and less with each successive pass through Althea’s hair. She sat on a small bench, back to Karina, fingers digging into the cushion as she grimaced. Soon, the tugging smoothed out and the brushing became pleasant. Althea relaxed, letting the motion of it pull her head about. The new nightgown they had gotten from the bad city was shorter; the gossamer material did not feel as confining. She scooted her feet back and forth through the rug as Karina tended to her hair, and overacted her disappointment when it was her turn to do the brushing.

  After switching places, Althea spent a few minutes pulling at Karina’s much thicker mane with her fingers before subjecting her to the brush. She cheated, telling the older girl’s body not to notice any pain until the snagging lessened. All the while, they chattered about nothing of any importance. Karina thought one of the city police was cute, and he was only twenty one. Five years difference wouldn’t upset Father too much. Althea shrugged, having no idea how he would react.

  Once Karina had enough of her hair being pulled, they settled into
bed. Althea stared at the ceiling, holding Karina’s arm to her chest like a doll. Father had been gone for hours, though she did not feel any unusual worry. The mixture of concern for him and happiness at being in her bed once again made her want to stay awake and enjoy it. More and more, the bed felt comfortable; the appeal of sleeping on a hard floor or dirt grew distant. The room hung in silence for some time, the only movement, the creep of a square of moonlight across the ceiling.

  Karina fell asleep within a few minutes. Althea closed her eyes, making no effort to sleep or stay awake. The rhythmic, quiet breathing behind her made her feel tired, but still, she remained aware. After what felt like hours, the tromping sound of heavy boots echoed through the whole house. She sighed, expecting someone needing her help. She slipped out of bed, not disturbing Karina, and was on her feet and in her day dress when Father’s bellow came up the stairs.

  “Althea?”

  “Yes, Father, I am up.”

  “We found a boy; he needs your help.”

  Althea’s yawn stalled at the concept of a wounded child. She darted out into the hall, and flew down the stairs, halfway between falling and running. Father caught her at the bottom, hugging her for a moment before taking her hand and walking her outside. Blue saturated Querq at this hour, the city lit by a pale, full moon. Most of the townies were asleep, save for the defenders on the wall and a man from the city sent to teach them how to operate the strange electricity boxes. Guardsmen waved at her as they passed.

  “There is no need to run, Thea. You have time.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “If he spent another day out there, he might be beyond your help. You are truly a gift.”

  Althea thought to correct him, thinking of Shepherd, but even she doubted she could do that again. A cool night breeze gathered her hair to the rear as they went outside. Althea wondered if it was because Shepherd’s death was her fault that her gift brought him back. Perhaps it was such strong emotions of guilt and love. For a split second, she wondered if she could do the same for her family if something happened, but that was an image she did not want in her mind.

  “Oh, Althea… you don’t need to be frightened.” Father pulled her against him with a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m not.” She fought off the dark ideas in her head and smiled. “I am happy you were not hurt.”

  He chuckled. “It’ll take something a little tougher than a couple of Bonedogs to take this piece of saddle hide down.”

  “Bonedogs?” Her eyes went wide.

  “Yeah, five or six of the little furry bastards. We got one, but the rest took off when we shot it.”

  She scowled at the decaying shadows of Old Querq in the distance. You have the whole Badlands. Leave my home alone.

  When they arrived at Dr. Ruiz’s clinic, she ran ahead of Father and followed the pointing finger of the nurse to a room.

  Inside, a boy of about fifteen lay on a bed, sienna skin stark against the white linen. A dense mass of black hair upon his head had clumped with dirt, sweat, and blood. He faced away, rasping for air. She ran to him, noting dozens of small wounds. Crude bandages made of plant leaves had been removed from animal bites on his legs; thorn marks, a healed arrow wound in his shoulder, and bruises covered the rest of him. The scent of alcohol wafted up from a steel bowl full of dirty gauze pads, no doubt the work of the nurse.

  Althea grabbed his arm, closing her eyes and opening her mind to the essence of his life. “Nurse, please bring him water,” she said, in a trancelike tone. “Food too, he will be hungry.”

  She found no major sicks, much to her surprise, and proceeded to force his body to mend an uncountable number of cuts and bumps. By far the worst was the arrow strike, as it possessed the taint of a nascent infection wrapped around a fragment of metal still stuck in bone. His skin split open at her command; tissue undulated and moved around the sliver, forcing it out. One by one, the smaller marred lines in his life-shapes sealed. He stirred, and his breathing lost the raspy wheeze.

  A thin cord tugged at the back of her neck. She opened her eyes, gazing down at his hand, turning the pendant between his fingers. A glint flashed over it as it moved. Her hand flew to guard it, grasping his fingers. She was about to pull it away from him.

  Then she saw his face.

  “D… Den?” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, sliding down over her cheeks in warm trails.

  He sat up, gathering her hands and holding them together. “I said I would find you. I am no longer of the tribe.” He took on his crafty-fox grin. “You are still pretty, even if you are too pale.”

  She gulped, wide-eyed with shock. Her breath fell into erratic flutters as she traced her hand over where the raider shot him through the leg. “Y… You almost died.”

  “Almost.” He winked.

  Before he could say anything else, she leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him.

  phemeral rectangles of light drifted across the ceiling in a silent ballet. The sporadic whine of passing hovercars drowned the faint whisper of Nina’s breath. Along the north wall, floor-to-ceiling glass allowed the glow of the city in. The intruding light imparted a spectral radiance to her white bedclothes and left the far reaches of the room darker by contrast, detail lost in a mass of indistinct shadows. Tiny, flickering spots winked from various unseen devices.

  Time drew to an agonizing stall. No distraction she tried to force into her mind kept her from worrying about her meeting with Lieutenant Oliver in a few short hours. Nothing good ever came of Division 0, and she could not understand why they wanted to meet. Nix, the old stuffed pink rabbit on her pillow, had more psionic ability than she did. They could not intend to recruit her, which left only one possibility―someone wanted them to go rooting around in her mind. Her growing anxiety kept sleep at bay.

  She teased at the smooth fabric of her pajamas while the Comforgel pad beneath her cycled through subdued blues and violets. To her right, two silver bars atop the nightstand detected her gaze upon them and came to life. The smaller one made a faint noise as a panel of holographic light opened like a window shade above it. The sound lurked just beyond the reach of the human ear, a presence one could not claim to hear as much as feel. Flecks of dust glinted through the image of Nina’s parents. Her weary smile came as a reflex, but fell flat as the other bar shimmered with green light.

  Floating numbers taunted her with 03:03.

  Desperate to find sleep, Nina tried to convince herself that the interview was an opportunity. It might be the first step of her transfer to Division 2. It had been more than two years since she graduated University and joined the force. Everyone knew she disliked Division 1. She hated street patrol.

  With a growl of frustration, she threw the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. The Comforgel shifted to a soft red as it tried to compensate for lost warmth. For several minutes, she teased a clump of carpet lint with her toe before trudging over to the windows. Her reflection focused a restless gaze back from under jet-black hair that hung to her shoulders. It had been down to her waist in school; just another in a long list of things she had given up for the job she wanted. Her pajamas draped loose on her frame, as though she had raided an older sister’s wardrobe.

  Nina stared through her ghost at the city beyond, watching hovercars dart around each other three floors below like a swarm of mice in a maze. Watching the city often helped her relax. Millions of people, all with their own problems, made hers seem trivial by comparison. The never-quite-dark of West City offered no solace tonight; the world was rendered a meaningless blur by her sleepless haze.

  She gave up on the window and flopped across the bed. Within seconds, the pad adjusted to her shape and she snuggled into the bedding with a half-contented moan. Her father’s voice whispered in the back of her mind, chiding her for throwing away her status for a ‘job.’ His plan would have been less stressful; the Duchenne family wealth could keep her comfortable, but oh so bored. A call to Vincent would cheer her up, though she did not want to wake
him. With each agonizing minute, her regret at passing on his offer to spend the night increased.

  Solitude felt like a bad idea in retrospect. It left her with nothing but her thoughts and the squares of light that slid across the grey above her.

  A pale waif wrapped in rose-pink cloth, she sprawled on the bed like a rag doll. Her hair fanned out across the silk as her gaze chased random lights across the ceiling. Not since finals week had so much anxiety shared her bed. She pictured Vincent’s tan skin, and the wry smile he always made, as if privy to humor no one else knew about.

  Unlike the rest of her unit, he did not make a habit of teasing her about her size or desire to be a tech. She had been the victim of several pranks during her first weeks, some silly and some cruel. He volunteered as her partner after Officer Alvin locked her in a trash processing unit and went on patrol alone.

  She got his message―he would rather have no partner at all than ride with her.

  Vincent treated her well, if not overprotectively, and he always seemed to showboat to impress her. Whatever it was that he did, it worked. Nina had been paired with him for a month shy of two years, and their relationship had gone far beyond a working one. She had not yet been able to break the news to her father that she wanted to marry someone ‘below her station,’ as he would say. That could wait until after Vincent popped the question. Nina almost looked forward to the argument. Her eyes closed as she rolled into the sheets, thinking about Vincent.

  A digitized cacophony jogged her awake as her NetMini announced an incoming call. Nina’s mind floated, absent any sense of the passage of time. One eye popped open, staring at the palm-sized slab of technology on her nightstand. Vibration accompanied the ringer, causing the NetMini to creep toward the edge. Heaviness permeated her limbs, making movement arduous. She rolled away from the pestering electronic device and curled into a ball. A fleeting moment of comfort passed before the beeping turned to banging and pulled her brain back from the precipice of sleep yet again. After a futile attempt to ignore it, she realized the banging was not in her head, but at her door. Anger shoved her into a seated position; she glared through a curtain of hair, already composing what she would scream at whoever dared bother her.