Gregory Norris - Down with the Fallen - A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Anthology

I contented myself with just looking in from the window. If I were alone, I would’ve ventured in. But I knew what my companion would make of it. I didn’t want him spreading any more rumors about me. He already found me absurd to begin with and made no pretense to hide it, eyeing me like I dropped a handful of dirt in my mouth if I studied a peculiarly shaped leaf, turning it over; I liked to draw them.

I looked over my shoulder at him. He sat motionless, staring out through the gap in the fence, his fingers absently tying and undoing knots in the lasso on his lap. The seat he was in was probably attached to a vehicle at some point. I don’t know where he got it from, but I found him lounged in it after I completed the sweep to confirm the house was empty. He tipped it back, rocking himself by pushing his heel against the carcass at his feet.

I gazed back into the room. With my eyes and just enough moonlight, I could make out the different objects within. I guessed the use of some, but wondered what such-and-such thing might be used for and made up stories surrounding them. Of course, I had no one to share them with. Not anymore.

The scene was more or less similar everywhere. The larger of the objects were things you could sit on. Everything that once might have been shiny was marred. Rotting scraps of food and debris covered the floor, the kind accumulated over time. Shards of glass glinted in the half-light; eyes of small live things also glinted, the only live things there, which moved about in the shadows. Despite the size of the rooms they all carried the same stench, of disuse and desperation, and reminded me of an abandoned zoo.

I didn’t bring you here to sightsee.

I turned about to find his head cocked at me.

What sight you do find worth seeing, though, is a mystery.

“First off, y ou didn’t bring me here,” I said, walking over to Flanim. “We were dispatched by the FARM.”

And a fine service you’re providing.

I didn’t bother with a rejoinder (it would only have drawn yet another reply, and I preferred the silence between us) and stood leaning against the craft. Through the missing boards in the fence, I had a clear view of the forked road and the glimmering river beyond. There were a lot of strays in the area, and the FARM never had enough ukhivs so they’d sent us. We’d spotted half a dozen of them entering sector 79. They were out of range of my tranq gun and eluded us by the time we landed. That was a moon ago.

After much dispute, we decided to camp. Which I still didn’t see the point of. We could’ve gone on a different course and picked up other ukhivs. A lot of them scuttled around, especially at night. We certainly weren’t under orders to bring in specific ukhivs or anything. Maybe that’s not entirely true. We were instructed to make the sturdy sort our priority, the kind suitable for labor or experiments, and also the smaller ones, lately very much in demand as pets, and they could be easily conditioned. But Flanim seemed set on pursing the ones we’d glimpsed. They’ll take shelter for a while before setting off again, he’d said. And that much was true, as we had noted from previous patterns. So here we were.

And I hoped not for long. The stink from the dead ukhiv at his feet only got stronger with every passing moment. It wasn’t one we’d struck down. Or, at least, one I hadn’t. We were carrying it around since we left base. I was puzzled when he dragged it aboard the craft. He didn’t answer when I asked him what he was up to. If he had anything resembling lips, I’m sure they would’ve curled in a grin.

Recalling his smug attitude, I got annoyed anew at the smell and said, “Can you get rid of that already?”

You don’t see me asking you to toss your gun.

“What does that have to do with it?”

He didn’t reply. I got up again and paced at some distance. Ukhivs could be subdued in a number of ways; they were soft. But I preferred tranq guns, as did Rokfilof, my old partner. They got the job done quickly and didn’t cause a mess. Flanim, on the other hand, favored the opposite. He flung a lasso from the craft at the running ukhivs and whooped (much to my annoyance) when it would restrain one. As much as I disliked him, I was in awe of his skill and had tried something similar on stationary objects in my quarters with laughable result. Any admiration I allowed myself stopped at that. What followed after never failed to repulse me. He savagely beat the ukhiv senseless using his bare hands. Whenever we came across a herd, I always took out the smaller ukhivs first. He lost interest if they were already unconscious.

It was contrary to our job, what he did. We were gatherers. Not hunters.

He was roaring mad when I tranqed a young ukhiv he had caught once. I thought his rant would make my head burst.

Stay out of my way. You still want to be soft after what happened to old Rokfilof?

He stepped back, seeing my fist tighten over the dagger at my belt.

All I’m saying is you get yours, let me get mine. What do you say?

I didn’t take his outstretched hand, and he ranted some more. For someone with no hole in his face except to breathe, he sure gave a lot of lip. I found exchanging a dialogue with him loathsome. Hated having him in my head, and being paranoid that maybe he could hear my thoughts, although I knew that wasn’t the case. His telepathic ability was limited to a one-way transmission, which was the norm for his species. He hummed a tune in my head once. I told him as calmly as I could, that if he ever did it again, I’d carve him an actual mouth. He never did it again. Later, I absently hummed the tune and wondered if it was really me, then held my clenched fists behind my back.

I was at the window again when he said he saw something. I made for the fence, tripped over the ukhiv in my haste and banged my head against the boards.

Need a fourth eye, do you?

I ignored him and peeked beyond the fence. It was a small pack. There were four of them, maybe five. They stood frozen, a dark cluster. The thud sounding from my fall had probably given them pause. I made out two full grown ukhivs among them when they stepped out of the shadows. It was hard to tell, but they appeared different from the pack we were pursuing and headed in the opposite direction along the riverbank.

We’d been out long enough, and it was better than nothing.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

You read my mind, Flanim said and shook with soundless laughter. The sight never failed to unnerve me.

He sprung to his feet, the moon glinting off his chitinous exterior.

I stepped aboard the craft, and it thrummed to life.

A little help here?

He stood with his hands hooked under the dead ukhiv’s arms. Even for Flanim, who although a head shorter than me was as sturdy as they come, the ukhiv was exceptionally large. He had struggled to drag it off deck earlier, not asking for help but grunting exaggeratedly. Needless to say, I hadn’t paid him any mind.

“Just leave it.”

But I need it.

Arguing would only have cost us more time so I helped him.

“Why did you take it down in the first place?”

I needed something to prop my feet on. Its gut’s just the right height.