Chapter 15

“Goodness is mercy. Mercy is strength.”

 

Andrew sat and watched the sun climb over the trees. Hours had passed, and his arms had twitched the whole night. Rubbing his nose, he closed his eyes—that poor woman had barely escaped. She’d gotten lucky. And how dare that man try and shoot an innocent stranger? He deserved everything he’d gotten.

He shook his head and woke Dan.

Neither man let a thought slip in the middle of their silent creep to the roof’s edge. Andrew cringed as roof-gravel shifted below his feet. God knew who could hear, down below. God knew who’d heard them before.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, they ducked behind each building and scampered between the alleys like cockroaches in a corner. When they reached the edge of the forest, they sprinted. The felled trees slowed them, the tumbled branches tore at their clothes, but they didn’t stop. Even though Andrew’s legs grew wet with blood, so long as the town lay in sight, he ran.

After a kilometer or so, the long straight stretch curved off, and the men slowed. They huffed and panted, unfed and unquenched. Long cuts traced Andrew’s calves. They stung like lashes from a bullwhip, and he couldn’t stop heaving and gasping. Couldn’t take enough air in. Over and over, he consoled himself, repeating the same platitudes; they were better off than they were before, they ran into a freak coincidence, they could eat now, they had new clothes, the creek ahead would refill their bottles. But if he was grateful for one thing above all, it was that they hadn’t seen the body.

“Okay. Okay,” Andrew said with a quivering voice. “We’re okay. Nobody’s—” he panted and leaned on a tree just off the road. “You know the way—where are we going?”

“Oh—that,” Dan said, standing up straight. “Forrester’s cutting back into North Shrubbery—sometime soon, I dunno—but if we get onto Kingslane, we can probably get to Highway Twenty-Five in a day or so.”

“We can’t go to Grant’s,” Andrew said. “Not there. No. Not after—no.”

The corners of Dan’s lips curled back. “No.”

“God—I’m starving,” Andrew said. “How have we been moving? How did we run all the way here? My God, why didn’t we eat anything else last night? Get the fucking pack out.”

Andrew tore his pack and reached for all the food within. As he scattered it about, he frowned. Why hadn’t they eaten last night? They must’ve gone mad. For hours, they’d walked hungry, scavenged hungry, slept hungry, and now they’d even run hungry. Andrew hadn’t ever sprinted that long before. Not without stopping to retch at the roadside. How bizarre the human body seemed. You could take a bullet to the arm and walk for days but die from a papercut. With a shrug, Andrew palmed one slice of bread and cleaved the other piece into fourths.

It tasted like bread.

But it wasn’t enough. His ribs twinged and his stomach frothed. Using one of the spoons, they each took their share of the peanut butter as well, making sure to scrape off any excess from the edges. After that, Dan stabbed a can of corn with one of the butter knives. Each of them took equal spoonfuls of the cold, slimy kernels until the can was empty.

Of course, they saved the best for last. The chips washed the aftertaste away.

Andrew stood and smiled to the sky. A real meal. He’d probably lost a kilo in the last two days. His clothes practically hung off his shoulders. Granted, the gift-store didn’t have his size, but he had to complain about something, and by God, that would do.

“If it wouldn’t kill us,” he said, “I’d down the whole damn loaf right now.” Suddenly, he shot his eyes wide open. “I should have put the peanut butter on the bread. It was so fucking plain—God damn it, why didn’t I do that?”

Dan gave Andrew a gentle smile. “If you eat stuff apart it feels like more than it is, right?”

“But you’re eating the same amount.”

“Trust me,” Dan said. “It’s like you’re eating more. You’re not really, but it feels like it. The slower you eat, the more it feels like you’ve eaten.”

“Uh huh. Yeah, I’m spreading it next time.”

Dan shrugged.

With that, the two of them began to hike down the road once again.

The forest grew thick as the bulk of the mountain fell away. Endelwood blended and tangled together, leaving the road lightless, save for a few rays that fell like raindrops from the jagged canopy. But eventually, the sliver of trees to their right fell away and revealed the cliff-face once more. Ahead, perhaps two or three kilometers onward, the cliff slipped away from the road, leading back to the foothills and the plains. The whole world loomed ahead of them. A world of black and grey. Yet color had returned to the sky, blue and white and pink. Harsh sunlight beat down from above, straining to heat the chill air.

And after all those hours away from Valton, Andrew’s heart rate had slowed. But only when he hummed and chuckled. Never when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t Alisa, anymore, nor Gwen or the company, not Mum and Dad, not even the man from Valton. He could avoid them. Think around them. Something else pulled down on him. He just couldn’t decipher what it was. It dulled the sky’s color, drained the music from his steps. He couldn’t feel anything—but before, he always felt at least something. This was like looking into an empty can. Everything good was gone.

He drifted close to the edge of the road, marveling at how far the cliff-face dropped. Orange rocks and scattered trees peeked up at him, thirty or forty meters below. His throat tightened when he looked down there—that steel railing, the only barrier separating him from the long drop, had rusted solid all the way down the road. Where it hadn’t broken, holes poked through. The heat from the blast had left it warped around the edges, too. Heights never used to bother him, but seeing that, he shied away. Far from the edge.

As they moved down, they saw another broken car. The first one they’d seen since Valton. A minivan. Inside, the upholstery had burnt away, as clean as if someone had ripped it all out. But unlike most of the cars they had passed before, the seats were empty. Not a hint of a body, either.

Beside the van was a ruined single-story house.

With its front door askew, its roof impaled on itself, and its walls sprouting splintered wood, Andrew doubted the house would be helpful. Still, it looked like it still had intact rooms. Better to be thorough, for the chance that luck would strike. So, he approached the squat building.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from inside.

“Stop,” a raspy voice said.

Andrew jolted stiff. The men’s eyes shot around to every corner of the house. It didn’t take long before they landed on the tall figure who had just leaned against the door. An islander woman with curly black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes—a rare sight in the Mits. But this woman wasn’t slender or small like the ones on TV—she was built like a truck. Her head almost scraped the upper frame of the doorway. She wore a black painter’s respirator with two canisters pointing out of the sides, and a dark grey army service uniform—three stripes on the shoulder, with medals all over. A captain. Her stance was slanted and weary, but as she reached around her hip, she took a wider pose. From her belt, she produced a long, jagged knife.

“Oy,” she said. “I want you two on the ground.”

Dan and Andrew backed up. Andrew tried to pull off to the side, but Dan grabbed Andrew’s arm and tugged him back. The accountant shook his head and held his arms up. Their backs hit the guard rails.

The woman extended her knife toward Andrew. “Come on,” she said in an almost pleading voice. “We all know how this works. On the ground, if you will.”

“Alright! Alright,” Dan said. His knees embraced the dirt. But Andrew stood frozen in place. Dan tugged on his arm. Gaping down at the accountant, Andrew’s face hardened—he shot stony eyes back at the woman. Groaning, the Captain stepped out of the door. Two other figures appeared behind her. One male, one female. Shorter and scrawnier than her, they clung to the doorframe. They both wore the same respirators as the Captain, but neither looked much more than half the woman’s age. As they tread furtively behind the islander woman, they peeked out to the men. Andrew gritted his teeth. His eyes darted around. And when Dan tugged on Andrew’s shirt again, the financier stuttered to the ground.

Andrew’s heart quaked like a tumble-dryer. Why hadn’t they run? It would’ve been the end of it. A knife—she only had a knife. Dan was a coward. Or maybe he didn’t think he could run fast enough. Thanks to that, they’d have to fight. Still, two teenagers and a woman versus two grown men—he had a good chance.

But as the Captain approached, Andrew lost some of his bluster. She stood taller and wider than any woman he’d ever seen. Easily matching his own height, if not edging over him. Her curly black hair grazed the tips of two broad shoulders. And though her uniform was thick cotton, the fabric bulged at the sleeves. She kept a perfectly smooth stride and a calm, albeit annoyed, expression. But every other step came off-beat. As though she was covering for a limp. The other two stepped out from behind her, cringing and staying well within arm’s reach.

To the right, the girl wrung her hands around a red fire-axe. Shaking, with her head held low. She was another islander, but far shorter than the officer. Maybe sixteen. Too old to be the Captain’s daughter, but they still resembled each other—a sister, perhaps? Her wavy hair had been cut jagged, almost like she’d taken a knife to it. At the left was a white Mits boy, hefting a dented metal bat with a white-knuckled grip. Same age as the girl, probably. Clearly, he wasn’t related to either of them. Still, he had muscle on him—enough that Andrew’s hard stare started to feel less brave and more self-assuring. Shuffling one of his legs underneath himself, Andrew wound himself up like a spring-trap. As soon as they made a mistake, he’d be ready.

“You,” the Captain said to Andrew. She stopped a few meters away. “Sit down. Feet pointed out, and I want your hands out in front, too. I see something, I break something.”

Andrew grimaced, but he did as she said.

“Aye,” the Captain said. “Now off with the jackets. And turn out your pockets.”

The men pulled their packs off, keeping their hands in full view. Dan opened his pack and laid everything out. Andrew tossed his on the ground.

“Oh, that’s clever!” the younger girl said, pointing to the jacket-packs. “We should do that, Hina!”

Andrew upturned his pockets, quivering with impotent rage. Everything the men owned laid there on the ground. Every piece of their plan, all the progress they had made. And how little it all was. Two dead cellphones, two wallets (one much thicker than the other), a pile of food, Dan’s watch, and the two water bottles filled with dusty creek-water. Dan produced two small runestones from his pocket and placed them beside the pile, to Andrew’s slight confusion. The officer, who Andrew assumed was called Hina, motioned to the others. The two teens started to sift through the small pile. The girl picked up one of Dan’s runestones, eyed it, and tossed it to Hina. The Captain shrugged and slipped it into her own pocket.

“That’s all we have. There’s nothing else,” Andrew said. His right eye twitched. “Take it all, why don’t you?”

“Alright, enough of that,” Hina said, her knife still trained on the men. “Nobody’s happy with this. I’ve got kids with me, what do you expect me to do? Let ’em starve?”

Andrew’s palms slicked, cold and pale. First, she robbed them, then she pretended she was sorry for it? What gave her the right? Every time he looked up, he saw those pitying eyes. As if it made a difference. Even if she didn’t gut him outright, she still overlooked him—a judge, ready to bring down the gavel if he took a breath she didn’t like. No matter what she said, she still had a knife at his throat. His arms tightened so hard he thought his veins might pop.

“Hina, this isn’t much,” the younger girl said. She picked up the water bottle and handed it to the man. “Hold on,” she said, “the two of you—you came from Valton, aye?”

Dan nodded.

“And this is all you found?”

Again, Dan nodded.

The girl glanced back and forth at her companions, then over to Dan. “You didn’t see anybody there, did you?”

“Kalei,” Hina said. “He’s gone.” The Captain’s face went stony, but her eyes started to glisten around the edges. “But if that’s all they found—Will, you get the water and keep it on you. Kalei, take the food. Leave their clothes.”

Hina stepped forward and threw an empty water bottle over to Dan. “I know it’s not much, but you gents can have this. You should’ve passed the creek back up the mountain. Fill it there.”

Before the boy could start sorting through the supplies, the girl grabbed his shoulder and frowned. She turned to face the officer. “You’re kidding, right? That’s ridiculous! We’re going to take everything? It’s bad enough Dad’s gone, now we’re just… Everything?”

Andrew’s lips had pulled back, twitching around his gums. Hina had fixated on Kalei, while the boy was focused on channeling as much sympathy as he could through the hands on her shoulders. No eyes were on the men. He gestured at Dan with his eyes. But Dan shook his head. Andrew furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth, but the moment passed. Hina looked right at them again.

That moment had died, but another would come along. And he could make it come. He knew how to talk. Talking was his business, for God’s sake.

“Captain,” Andrew said. Glancing at the nametag on her uniform, he continued. “It’s Captain Kanoa, I’m guessing?” The officer blinked and sighed. The other two jumped, remembering they had captives behind them. He scanned their faces. “Come on, don’t get pissy, we’re not going to fight back. Not yet.”

The boy mimicked the Captain’s stance. Still, Andrew continued. “Now, I’m not really in the bargaining position, I don’t suppose, but—I’m not just going to stand by while I’m robbed. Go ahead and take the clothes, the utensils, anything of that sort. But if you take the food or the water—my friend and me—yeah, we die.”

Kalei took a sharp breath.

“Think you’re ready enough to take a life?” Andrew said. “Go ahead.” The financier’s brow lowered. “But I’m not sitting back if you try.”

Dan looked frantically at Andrew. Will tightened his grip on the bat. “Hold on,” Dan said. “No, no, that’s not what we’re saying, we’re—well, we’re all a bit tired, right?” He chuckled, but it came out hollow. “We’re all good chaps here, right? Not quite down to beggars yet. And I’m—I’m not the best with this kind of situation, but I’ll be honest, Mr. Andrew told the truth—Valton didn’t have much to take, and we’d hardly make it to Grant’s without at least a little bit.” He looked around, smiling that flummoxed half-smile. “Okay, so I don’t think we’ve actually introduced ourselves, have we?”

Silence answered him.

“Right. So, I’m Dan Harrison, just call me Dan. And he’s Mr. Andrew Phillips—great guy, very successful, right?”

Dan waited a few moments to see if the three thieves would respond. For a moment, Kalei’s eyes curled down, overwhelmed. But none of them said anything. The boy, Will, seemed tense, as if he thought the men would leap out at any moment. Still, the Captain remained as calm as ever. Andrew shifted, ready to speak, but Dan shot him a pleading look.

In Andrew’s stead, Dan continued. “Okay. So, we all know each other, now. That’s the first step! We’re all a bit shorted out, and we’re all saying things we’re not meaning. So—we can all kill each other, but that wouldn’t help anyone out, right? You don’t want that, right?”

The Captain squinted at Dan. Andrew had to shake the cramp out of his palms, but his heartbeat steadied. The thieves still hadn’t moved, and they still hadn’t taken anything. Just the right moment, and the men would bolt. Hina had a limp. She couldn’t catch up, not if the men sprinted.

But then, if they did that, they’d have to leave the food. That defeated the whole purpose. They’d have to fight, wouldn’t they?

“We’re headed to a place up on the coast,” Dan said. Andrew cringed. “A little resort about eighty kilometers up from the city—OldMouth, not Grant’s—I think it’s actually about thirty or thirty-five kilometers from Grant’s.” Twitching his lips, Dan tried to force a laugh, but it got caught in his throat. “It’s got food and water and boats and anything you could ask. And it’s far from the trees, so it probably didn’t burn down! Not too long a walk. We’ve got enough rations for the two of us already, so—I dunno—why don’t we all go together? No trouble, right? We can—we can work this out like adults.”

Will’s eyes darted from man to man, shifting back and forth. He looked up to the Captain, whose stance had softened. “That’s dumb. That is dumb, right? They’ve only got this much—and they want to go toward the city?” He opened his arms, gesturing to both his companions. “Let’s just take it and go.” Hina tilted her head down.

“I don’t—I haven’t,” the Captain muttered. She locked eyes with Dan. “You’re talking about Greenside Resort?” Dan nodded, surprised. Hina peered over at Andrew’s balled fists, his still-gritted teeth. “I don’t think… We wouldn’t find enough. And it won’t be safe. No, no, none of it makes sense. If scavenging’s so easy, you wouldn’t be so scared.”

Andrew flared up. “Then you can see how you’re killing us? Listen to yourself!” Dan took a sharp breath, but Andrew didn’t let up this time. “You’re sick. You hear me? It’s the same as kicking us off the cliff!”

“I know!” the Captain snapped. “I know, okay? You’re not the only one who’s scared, Mr. Phillips.” She stopped herself and closed her eyes. “But I’ve got two kids here, aye? They’re teenagers, but—they’re just kids! We’ve barely got two days of supplies left. If you’ve any better ideas, I’ll listen. But if you don’t, what happens, happens.”

“Hina,” Kalei said. “They’re not gonna make it.” She took one hand off her axe and positioned herself between the Captain and the men. “Hina, let’s just go. I don’t wanna—can’t we just go home?”

Hina squeezed her knife until her knuckles went white, her eyes approaching the same flare as Andrew’s. She pulled her mask off and threw it to the ground, revealing her gritted teeth.

The boy spoke before the Captain could. “Kalei—we can’t all make it.” Before she could say anything, he glanced at Hina. “We can’t let them go, can we?”

At that, Kalei growled in fury. She took a step forward, but Will grabbed her shoulders.

“Don’t,” Will said. “Please. We let them go, they’ll come for us! If anything happened to you—it’s us or them, Kalei. C’mon we’ve got a rope.” He started toward the men.

“Stop it!” Kalei yelled, ripping herself from his grip.

“Oh, will you just let off it?” the boy said. “We’re a good two days from starving, and you think we should just give up and die? What are you, mad?”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Kalei replied. “I’m not gonna murder somebody, Will! If you’ve got no problem with murder, go right ahead. But don’t drag me into it. Don’t you dare.”

Hina’s hand shook, sweat piling up. Something in her eyes had gone hollow, like glass. “Just shut up!” she commanded. “We just need to get a head-start, we’re not—”

“I don’t care what you tell yourself,” Kalei said. “I’m not doing it. None of it! I’m not eating any of it! I’ll starve before that!”

“Even if they’re telling the truth, we just get two more mouths to feed!” the boy said. “And a promise of some fucking fantasy land, eh?” He glared at Dan. “Hoy mister, would you tell me more about this magical luxury resort? Do I get blowed by a fairy, or does it have to be an elf? Or can I choose?”

“Oh, fuck off, Will” the girl said, swiveling back to face him. “Greenside’s real, it’s where Hina got her medal, you prick!”

“Yeah, but it’s all burnt to shit! Look around. Anything looking green? Grow up!”

The teenagers’ voices rose, their words overlapping as they screeched at each other like seagulls over a dead fish. Andrew couldn’t understand what either of them were saying anymore. A cacophony of shrill curses seemed to clamp down over all his senses. All he could see were their veins popping, all he could hear were their lungs straining. Stamping his foot, the boy pointed his bat right at Andrew.

Tears welled in Hina’s eyes before she squeezed them tight. “Shut up,” she muttered. “Shut up,” she said. “Shut up!” she screamed. And when she opened her eyes again, Andrew swore he could feel the hate in them. A flash of memory. She wasn’t standing on the road in that moment. She stood in fire, in the Iton, in Trant—in his apartment, staring out the window. Seething, a moment away from losing everything, he lost himself instead.

Andrew lunged at the Captain.

 

Hello, friends! If you're enjoying this story, consider supporting me on Patreon! If you'd like more stories, I post new chapters to my mainline series every Monday and Friday, and I upload a new short story chapter basically every day! Below are some of my other stories.

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