Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) by TJ Klune
Authors: TJ Klune
Tags: Science-Fiction
Ads: Link
as he begins to feed.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Travel safe.” Hank squeezed his shoulder.
Cavalo nodded tightly and turned toward the southern road, suddenly dizzy from the burst of bees in his head. He did not miss the way Lucas frowned at him, the knife again in his hand.
THEY FOLLOWED the southern road, or rather, what remained of the southern road. There were curious legends, faded green signs that let them know they were traveling on what used to be known as the US 95, back in Before. Mountains were in the distance to the west. Ahead of them and east stretched snowy white fields as far as they could see. They were out in the open, but they could see if anyone approached them. But it also meant they could be seen by anyone as they approached.
Cavalo could not remember the last time he’d traveled to Grangeville through the old farmlands as they did now. It’d been months. Possibly even a year. Surely before the snows fell last. Maybe a bit longer. Hank had said that the bigger town was still run by Cordelia, an older woman who looked like someone’s grandmother until you crossed her the wrong way and she brought out her gun. She may have been old, but she was a tough old broad who didn’t take shit from anyone. And for some reason, she liked Cavalo. He wasn’t sure why. He thought she’d help. Or she’d shoot at him until he left. For all he knew, she’d had a similar deal going on with the Dead Rabbits. Cottonwood and Grangeville were the only towns within a hundred miles this side of the Deadlands.
He didn’t know what she’d make of Lucas. Perhaps she’d shoot him and Cavalo would be rid of him once and for all. It would certainly be easier.
Bad Dog wandered ahead, his nose low to the snow, ears twitching.
Lucas walked beside Cavalo. The knife was still in his hand, his grip on it tight. Cavalo wondered who he wanted to stab. He decided it wasn’t an answer he wanted that badly.
They continued on in silence. Cavalo continually scanned the horizon. He thought he saw a smudge of black against the white clouds off to the east, but his eyes weren’t as sharp as they’d once been. It might’ve been nothing. Still, when US 95 turned east and the smudge was ahead of them, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.
It was slow going, the snow thick under their feet. They kept to the road as much as possible, but the old highway was split and cracked, large chunks rising up out of the earth at sharp angles. The frames of farmhouses and barns stood off in the distance, some crumbling, some charred. Cavalo wondered, as he sometimes did, who had lived there Before. How had they lived? How had they died? These were questions he could not answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.
They passed a pile of wood sticking out of the snow. Lucas stopped, cocking his head at the rotted wood. Faded reds and greens mixed with the white. What is it? he asked, pointing the knife.
“Billboards,” Cavalo grunted. “From Before.”
What’s a billboard?
“A sign. For food and places. People.”
Food? Bad Dog asked hopefully, sniffing around the wood.
“You’ve never seen one before?” Cavalo asked Lucas.
Lucas shook his head.
Cavalo had. A few times. Most were destroyed. Those that had still stood were illegible. One had been high in the air, somehow still standing after all else around it had collapsed. The words and pictures were almost gone, but he could still make out the smiling man with the large teeth next to the words BEEN INJURED IN AN ACCIDENT? CALL DICK LEWIS FOR HELP! 1-800-GET-DICK! WITHOUT HIM, YOU WON’T GET DICK! The billboard had been falling apart. Dick’s face sagged. Some of his teeth had torn away, and metal struts showed through. He looked like a monster. Cavalo had hurried past him and never looked back. That had been in his wandering days. Before Elko.
“They sold things,” Cavalo said now, though he wasn’t sure if that was quite right. “Told people what to
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Travel safe.” Hank squeezed his shoulder.
Cavalo nodded tightly and turned toward the southern road, suddenly dizzy from the burst of bees in his head. He did not miss the way Lucas frowned at him, the knife again in his hand.
THEY FOLLOWED the southern road, or rather, what remained of the southern road. There were curious legends, faded green signs that let them know they were traveling on what used to be known as the US 95, back in Before. Mountains were in the distance to the west. Ahead of them and east stretched snowy white fields as far as they could see. They were out in the open, but they could see if anyone approached them. But it also meant they could be seen by anyone as they approached.
Cavalo could not remember the last time he’d traveled to Grangeville through the old farmlands as they did now. It’d been months. Possibly even a year. Surely before the snows fell last. Maybe a bit longer. Hank had said that the bigger town was still run by Cordelia, an older woman who looked like someone’s grandmother until you crossed her the wrong way and she brought out her gun. She may have been old, but she was a tough old broad who didn’t take shit from anyone. And for some reason, she liked Cavalo. He wasn’t sure why. He thought she’d help. Or she’d shoot at him until he left. For all he knew, she’d had a similar deal going on with the Dead Rabbits. Cottonwood and Grangeville were the only towns within a hundred miles this side of the Deadlands.
He didn’t know what she’d make of Lucas. Perhaps she’d shoot him and Cavalo would be rid of him once and for all. It would certainly be easier.
Bad Dog wandered ahead, his nose low to the snow, ears twitching.
Lucas walked beside Cavalo. The knife was still in his hand, his grip on it tight. Cavalo wondered who he wanted to stab. He decided it wasn’t an answer he wanted that badly.
They continued on in silence. Cavalo continually scanned the horizon. He thought he saw a smudge of black against the white clouds off to the east, but his eyes weren’t as sharp as they’d once been. It might’ve been nothing. Still, when US 95 turned east and the smudge was ahead of them, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.
It was slow going, the snow thick under their feet. They kept to the road as much as possible, but the old highway was split and cracked, large chunks rising up out of the earth at sharp angles. The frames of farmhouses and barns stood off in the distance, some crumbling, some charred. Cavalo wondered, as he sometimes did, who had lived there Before. How had they lived? How had they died? These were questions he could not answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.
They passed a pile of wood sticking out of the snow. Lucas stopped, cocking his head at the rotted wood. Faded reds and greens mixed with the white. What is it? he asked, pointing the knife.
“Billboards,” Cavalo grunted. “From Before.”
What’s a billboard?
“A sign. For food and places. People.”
Food? Bad Dog asked hopefully, sniffing around the wood.
“You’ve never seen one before?” Cavalo asked Lucas.
Lucas shook his head.
Cavalo had. A few times. Most were destroyed. Those that had still stood were illegible. One had been high in the air, somehow still standing after all else around it had collapsed. The words and pictures were almost gone, but he could still make out the smiling man with the large teeth next to the words BEEN INJURED IN AN ACCIDENT? CALL DICK LEWIS FOR HELP! 1-800-GET-DICK! WITHOUT HIM, YOU WON’T GET DICK! The billboard had been falling apart. Dick’s face sagged. Some of his teeth had torn away, and metal struts showed through. He looked like a monster. Cavalo had hurried past him and never looked back. That had been in his wandering days. Before Elko.
“They sold things,” Cavalo said now, though he wasn’t sure if that was quite right. “Told people what to
Similar Books
