James Scotson - Planets Falling

We slide down the hill to find a small encampment built by Samuel and English. English appeared two days after we descended into the earth, while Samuel was busily destroying Troll’s robots with rocks and arrows. The metal boxes weren’t built for combat and each took only a few hours for him to destroy. Still, Samuel was unable to get to the doors and try to free us during our interment.

We’re drinking shine around a fire. I’m feeling strangely annoyed at the inconvenience of having to sleep outside on the cold ground and eat half-cooked game again. Theo explains our ordeal to Samuel and English, although it’s nearly impossible to describe the wonders we experienced. Bets is sleeping between bouts of retching. I don’t feel like reveling. I can’t banish the sight of the boy Philip struggling during his last few moments of life. I could feel that spike in my own head. Telepathy, as Fromer called it, may be a bag of black and white beans.

Theo shakes his head at English. “What happened to you, fool? You shouldn’t been drinking that night at the village. Serves you right we left you.”

“Sorry ’bout that. I was feeling a bit glum. You won’t see me in that fashion again.” His slurring voice betrays him. The shine’s already settling into his blood. He continues. “I woke up in that haze. Couldn’t see my hands in front of me. That’s when I heard ’em shuffling in the fog.”

“What you mean by them?” Theo asks. By the drawn, concerned look on Samuel’s wrinkled face, we’re not going to like what we hear.

“My head was pounding more than usual after a night of overindulging, if you know what I mean. I thought at first that the footsteps belonged to you all. But then they starting groaning.” English takes a long draught, his eyes vacant. “I swear the villagers — they was rising from the pit and other resting places. Brown mist was dripping off them like dew or snot. The ones I could see were bloated and smelled something awful. If it wasn’t for the whinnying of Claire, I’d surely have been suffocated by the bodies. There’s no way I’d let them harm my horse, so I jumped up, ran straight toward her, and somehow we got away. A few of the stinkies challenged us, but I dispatched them with my blade and Claire trampled what was left. Other things were forming in that fog. We didn’t stay to see what they were. About a half mile from the town, the haze lifted and we headed north. We followed Theo’s stone piles and here we are. It wasn’t tough to find Samuel. The smoke from his fire traveled for miles down the mountainside. If whatever was in the village is looking for us, it knows where we are.” English shoots a boozy, nasty look at Samuel.

Samuel responds calmly. “I done it for your sake and mine. You could of used the direction and I needed some help up here.”

Theo’s clearly ready to wrap the night. “Time to sleep. At dawn, we start heading south toward the ocean. We have no time to spare.”

English is oiled now. “You mean to tell me that you dragged us all the way up the mountain to go back down the mountain? Horseshit, Theo.”

Theo’s too spent to argue. He produces the tablet from the facility and touches the screen. A bright image of the mountainside appears before him, particularly colorful and lucid in the dark. Our location’s betrayed by a blinking blue light. The road we followed up the mountain is clearly marked as a red vein. English drops his flask. Samuel exclaims, “I’ll be dipped.”

“This’s why we came up here. We now have a guide to our next stop. Tomorrow we travel. Now shut it and sleep.” And the image from the magic pad goes dark.

Morning’s arrived and we’re clopping back toward the sea. We’re taking a route that avoids Flip’s village, but there’s still a chance we might encounter the nefarious tan fog. We’re tense, cold, and tired. The horses seem happy for the exercise and the sun’s burning through the clouds. I’m elated to see and feel warm rays touching my skin. We’re on the right track. Troll’s message about the shipwrecked visitors was meant for us. These people will have the ability to help us find Eliza, father, and Wenn.

Bets seems healthier this morning. She’s complaining of a headache, but her dizzy spells are less frequent. She’ll have a nice scar on her forehead. Theo has transformed into a leader. Atop Silius, I see a man, not a boy. Theo’s eyes are deeper and his shoulder bears an invisible burden, which sadly suits him well. English has receded back to his blank self. Now that the shine has left his system, he’s outwardly oblivious to the dangers we’ll soon face. Samuel looks much older. I swear that he’s taking short naps on the back of his steed. His beard is whiter.

Around noon, Theo gives Samuel and English lessons with the weapons we scored from the facility. I’d have liked for us to have retrieved the remainder of the arsenal we left underground. But Troll’s reincarnated spirit would have none of that. Regardless, we have a considerable advantage now over most of our adversaries. I do wonder how the creatures in the fog, the walking dead, or the monsters that destroyed our town would respond to our new weapons. I desperately hope we don’t have to find out.

We mount our horses and continue our descent through the dense forest. Samuel is clearly invigorated. “Imagine the game I could bag with one of them rifles.”

Theo throws a chunk of hard tack at him. “Samuel, we’ve only got so much ammo. You’ll need to stick to the arrows and snares for food.”

Samuel grunts and strokes his thick beard.

Bets rides next to Theo. They pull ahead and talk about something in a hush. Bets occasionally turns to look back at us, as if we might be hearing their conversation.

English and Samuel don’t notice or don’t care. In contrast, I feel something strange inside. Could that be jealousy? I let my worries about my family beat that green, unpleasant sensation back. Still, if they are an item, Theo could do better than Bets. She’s spiteful and angry. I’d wager she’s trying to convince Theo to abandon our search and have them leave me on my own. Or worse, she’s suggesting that Samuel and English serve as my only companions while he and she bed down somewhere and raise a family.

We ride downhill another two days and then head south along a smaller, flatter road. This route is well traveled, a merchant’s path. Usually, we’d encounter many carts and men on horseback. Not now. The way is deserted. Even the birds and squirrels are scarce. The air’s warm and I can smell the sea. We camp by a small stream. The burbling soothes me and I wish we could just stop here. Theo expects that we have another couple of days of travel before we head west toward the ocean. Bets and English are in the scrub hunting for dinner. I’m gathering some herbs and water for a stew. Theo has largely abandoned the leather book from the elders and is now fixated on the tablet from Troll’s compound. It contains much more than maps. Images of the ancient world emerge vividly, moving as if they are alive. There are countless images of text that we cannot read and drawings of things that have no meaning to us. The map continues to show where we are relative to the vessel we’re seeking. It reminds us how small our world was and how big it is going to become.

Samuel has disappeared. We assumed that he was visiting the bushes to empty his bowels. That was an hour ago. Bets and English did not see him when they returned with dinner. It’s uncanny that he’s missing a meal. Another hour passes. The stew’s bubbling and we’re chewing on some delicious honeycomb that I found in a hollow tree. Theo points out that it’d be best that we don’t shout Samuel’s name. If he’s lost, the smell of the cook pot should lure him back. No need for us to draw unnecessary attention.