William Rose - Apocalyptic Organ Grinder

It had been three days since Tanner Kline drug his battered body to the gates of the community he came to know as Knoll. It was smaller than most settlements he’d visited in the past, comprised of five buildings pieced together from logs and various scraps of wood. The structures themselves lacked any real foundation and most leaned to one side so precariously it looked as though their tin roofs were about to slip off.. All in all, it was standard Settler architecture with the buildings clustered around a courtyard. The ground in this common area had been trampled underfoot so often that only sparse clumps of grass were able to push their way through the hard-packed earth. The entire community was surrounded by a wall that had once been mounds of Old World refuse; covered in dirt and seeded with grass it was the singular feature from which the community took its name.

Though the earthen wall was so high that Tanner had to scramble up the ramparts just to glimpse the forest and river beyond, he could still see the remnants of the Old World city from the courtyard. The crumbling towers rose in the distance like a forest of trees that had been snapped in half; ivy clambered over most of them so thickly that their steel skeletons were no longer visible, except for the occasional flash of sunlight glaring off the windows hidden beneath the leafy vines.

Earlier in the morning, Tanner had seen an eagle take flight from the top of the tallest structure and his eyes now scanned the blue expanse of sky, watching for the black speck of the great bird’s return. If he’d had his antique rifle, he was sure he would’ve been able to drop the creature mid-flight if it soared close enough. It would be nice to present the half a dozen residents of Knoll with a token of his gratitude before setting out for home. They’d welcomed him into their homes as if he were one of their own, shared their meager supplies, and helped nurse him back to health. Though his leg was still surrounded by an anklet of purple and green bruises, the swelling was mostly gone, thanks to their care. It was tender and warm to the touch, but within a day or two it would be healed to the point that his limp would be a thing of the past.

As he searched the sky for signs of the eagle, his eyes came across a column of black smoke to the south. The smoke curled into the heavens like a roiling pillar of soot attempting to poison the sky. It mushroomed out at the top, stretching dark tendrils towards clouds that seemed to instinctively flee from its touch.

Four, five miles tops. Tanner thought. Something about the smoke made Tanner feel as if the outer walls of his stomach rippled. Pressing his hands against his belly, he realized his palms were so clammy that they left moist prints against the green tunic one of the settlers had given him. Too small for a forest fire, too large to be burning brush… something’s wrong .

As soon as the thought passed through his mind, it solidified into certainty. Hadn’t Roger, the old man who played the barrel organ, said something about another community up river? Tanner was sure he had; and even though he’d never personally been there, he was just as positive that the smoke was coming from that settlement.

For some reason, the image of that Spewer bitch sprang into his mind like a cougar pouncing from a cliff . He saw her eyes, smoldering with a hatred that felt as though it could direct a concentrated blast of pure incineration at her chosen target; with her teeth clenched so forcefully that the veins in her temples bulged, her hair blew in a hot breeze like tongues of flame.

Shaking off the chill tingling his spine caused the vision of Lila to dissipate like the fog at dawn. Yet the residual feelings of unease left by her apparition remained and Tanner limped across the courtyard far too slowly for his liking. He wanted to run, to stand atop the grassy mound and scrutinize the forest for the slightest indication of danger. Because of his injury, however, he was forced to hobble forward at a pace that reminded him of the three-legged races they sometimes held in his home community and he longed to feel the comforting stock of his rifled pressed against his shoulder.

Jayme, the unofficial leader of Knoll, stood atop the grass wall in a wide-legged stance. His long hair fluttered in the wind as he raised a pair of field glasses to his eyes. Even though the wall was several feet taller than Tanner, the Sweeper could still see the man’s body stiffen.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Tanner’s voice was tight and gruff, but Jayme never looked away from the smoke in the distance. “The Spewers. It’s those filthy beasts.”

“Can’t be sure.” Jayme finally mumbled. “Pretty sure the smoke’s coming from Willowglade. But maybe a cook stove got out of control and… .”

“No. It’s them… it’s her. ”

The rest of the community had filtered out of the buildings and clustered behind Tanner silently. A man named Ashton stepped forward and placed his hand on Tanner’s shoulder. The man’s bushy eyebrows lowered, as if he were taking mental stock of their guest, and with pursed lips, he stroked his beard.

“You were a Sweeper, yes? In your home community?”

Tanner tilted his chin and straightened to his full height, ignoring the extra discomfort subjected upon his ankle.

“I am a Sweeper.”

“Fair enough.” The man nodded. “Not sure if you’ve noticed yet, but ours hasn’t returned since yesterday evening. It’s not like Charles to go this long without checking in.”

“I’ll go then.” There was no hesitation or doubt in Tanner’s voice as he blurted out the words. “Where are your guns?”

The conversation had captured the attention of Jayme, who looked down upon the gathered crowd like a shocked god. “Don’t be a fool, man… .”

“I will lay down my life so that others might live.”

“ I’m not sending you out there! ”

The force of Jayme’s words struck Tanner like a physical blow to the chest. He blinked up at the man and noticed how the field glasses trembled in his hand. Studying the deep lines etched into the Jayme’s face and the ashen pallor that leeched color from his flesh, Tanner realized the leader of the community was terrified. He’d seen something out there. Something which had shaken him so badly that his confidence had crumbled like the buildings standing against the skyline.

“We… we need you here, Kline. In case… well, in case something happens.”

The man’s unease was not lost on the people who looked to him for guidance. Their silence was shattered with a nervous babble of chatter, gasps, and a half dozen questions asked simultaneously. Even Ashton seemed taken back by the outburst, his jaw dropping open as he stood with his hand on Tanner’s shoulder..

Pulling away from the man, Tanner scuttled up the embankment on all fours, using his hands and knees to ease the strain on his injured ankle. The worn tread of the sandals covering his feet slipped in the dew-slick grass as his fingernails raked ragged furrows into the earth in an attempt to keep from sliding backward. Halfway up the small hill, he kicked the shoes off in a flurry of movement and was then able to reach the summit in a fraction of the time it’d taken him to arrive at the midpoint

While the sides of the embankment were covered with grass and clover, Knoll’s missing Sweeper had beaten a dusty path into the top of the ridge with his ceaseless patrolling. This dirt stuck to Tanner’s wet soles like gritty sand and protruding stones dug into his heels as he teetered to his feet.

Up close, the head of the community looked like a man who’d glimpsed an inevitable future and wished he hadn’t. His pupils were dilated to the point that the green irises surrounding them were nothing more than thin rings. He somehow looked slumped and tense at the same time, as if his body couldn’t decide whether to fight with everything it could muster or simply lay down and await death. Though it was still early enough in the day that most of the assembled citizens donned long sleeves or shawls, a tang of sweat wafted from Jayme’s body. He tried to meet Tanner’s gaze, held it long enough for his left eye to twitch twice, and then apparently found something of intense interest on his hands. He held them at chest level and turned them back and forth in front of him, as if comparing the callused mounds of his palms to the scrapes and scabs on his knuckles.