group with her knuckles white as bone as she clutched her spear. Perhaps it was born of stress, but the rest of the crowd had blisters erupting like tapped wells. Infection spewed into the air and oozed across their flesh, contaminating the air with that unmistakable stench.
But then darkness enveloped Tanner. The torches and campfires of the village were nothing more than a wavering glow glimpsed between the trees and the sky was blotted out by a canopy of leaves.
With as much strength as he could muster, Tanner hoisted the child up and tucked him beneath his armpit like a parcel. And then, with no clear direction or plan, he ran.
He had no doubt the Spewers would follow. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize he would never let the child go. Once enough distance had been put between him and the village, he’d have no more need for a hostage and they’d know this. So it was important to cover as much ground as possible in the least amount of time.
The problem was, the kid wasn’t content being a passenger on this ride. The little brat writhed and twisted, kicked his legs like a swimmer, and clawed at the slick fabric of Tanner’s suit. His voice, shrill with terror, cried out for his mother between blubbering sobs and his constant struggles shifted Tanner’s balance. The man stumbled and scrambled as he forced his way through thickets and the frenetic beat of his heart thumped painfully in his temples.
At night, the forest was like a dark and twisting labyrinth. Deadfalls and obstacles lay at every turn and it would be all too easy to get turned around. The last thing he needed was to come crashing through the undergrowth only to find himself right back where he’d started. Without the stars to navigate by, he needed something else. Something that could be used as a guide and assure he was headed in a consistent direction.
It was riskier to stagger blindly through the night than it was to gather his bearings, so Tanner stopped near the remains of an Old World house that was now nothing more than a mound of decaying wood within a brick-lined pit. He listened past his own haggard breathing, past the swishing of blood that seemed to fill his ears; ignoring the child’s cries and protests, he closed his eyes and focused.
He could faintly hear shouts in the distance, voices calling out to one another in the darkness, and they sounded as if they were fanning out. So he’d been right then. The Spewer Village had decided on pursuit. How long would it be before he glimpsed their torches? How long until the human net closed in around him?
He knew he’d move more quickly without the kid, but part of him insisted that it would be more dangerous at this point to go it alone. These savages moved through the wilderness with ease. Even if he did dump the little one, they’d swarm over him before long if he didn’t come up with a solid plan. So it was better to keep his prisoner for the time being . . . just in case.
So he had to ignore the sounds of the search party and allow them to become as unimportant as the chirping of insects. Nothing more than background noise. And then, just barely, he heard it: the sound of a river.
Using the rushing waters as a beacon, he darted into the darkness again, this time with purpose. Rivers provided water and fish so settlements often sprang up on their banks. Some of the newer ones were even experimenting with dams and water wheels in an attempt to return to the reign of electricity. If he could find this river, he’d be able to follow it, perhaps find allies and guns.
As the sounds of the water grew louder, hope welled within Tanner. Such a story he’d have for Shayla when he returned home, one which would even rival the history hidden within the fairy tales she so loved. The three other children in his community would gather around as well, each chewing their fingernails and leaning forward with round eyes as
But then darkness enveloped Tanner. The torches and campfires of the village were nothing more than a wavering glow glimpsed between the trees and the sky was blotted out by a canopy of leaves.
With as much strength as he could muster, Tanner hoisted the child up and tucked him beneath his armpit like a parcel. And then, with no clear direction or plan, he ran.
He had no doubt the Spewers would follow. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize he would never let the child go. Once enough distance had been put between him and the village, he’d have no more need for a hostage and they’d know this. So it was important to cover as much ground as possible in the least amount of time.
The problem was, the kid wasn’t content being a passenger on this ride. The little brat writhed and twisted, kicked his legs like a swimmer, and clawed at the slick fabric of Tanner’s suit. His voice, shrill with terror, cried out for his mother between blubbering sobs and his constant struggles shifted Tanner’s balance. The man stumbled and scrambled as he forced his way through thickets and the frenetic beat of his heart thumped painfully in his temples.
At night, the forest was like a dark and twisting labyrinth. Deadfalls and obstacles lay at every turn and it would be all too easy to get turned around. The last thing he needed was to come crashing through the undergrowth only to find himself right back where he’d started. Without the stars to navigate by, he needed something else. Something that could be used as a guide and assure he was headed in a consistent direction.
It was riskier to stagger blindly through the night than it was to gather his bearings, so Tanner stopped near the remains of an Old World house that was now nothing more than a mound of decaying wood within a brick-lined pit. He listened past his own haggard breathing, past the swishing of blood that seemed to fill his ears; ignoring the child’s cries and protests, he closed his eyes and focused.
He could faintly hear shouts in the distance, voices calling out to one another in the darkness, and they sounded as if they were fanning out. So he’d been right then. The Spewer Village had decided on pursuit. How long would it be before he glimpsed their torches? How long until the human net closed in around him?
He knew he’d move more quickly without the kid, but part of him insisted that it would be more dangerous at this point to go it alone. These savages moved through the wilderness with ease. Even if he did dump the little one, they’d swarm over him before long if he didn’t come up with a solid plan. So it was better to keep his prisoner for the time being . . . just in case.
So he had to ignore the sounds of the search party and allow them to become as unimportant as the chirping of insects. Nothing more than background noise. And then, just barely, he heard it: the sound of a river.
Using the rushing waters as a beacon, he darted into the darkness again, this time with purpose. Rivers provided water and fish so settlements often sprang up on their banks. Some of the newer ones were even experimenting with dams and water wheels in an attempt to return to the reign of electricity. If he could find this river, he’d be able to follow it, perhaps find allies and guns.
As the sounds of the water grew louder, hope welled within Tanner. Such a story he’d have for Shayla when he returned home, one which would even rival the history hidden within the fairy tales she so loved. The three other children in his community would gather around as well, each chewing their fingernails and leaning forward with round eyes as
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