WHAT LIES WITHIN
Life in a caravan is a life full of freedom. But a life also filled with danger. Lots of danger. I mean I can’t emphasize enough the amount of danger. This is the world I was born into, a ravaged world, brought to the brink of destruction by our forefathers. From the green fire and terrible chemicals, a new world emerged, deadlier, harsher. But humanity survived, its people splintered, some of them even altered from generations after generations exposed to radiation and strange chemicals.
The first chapter of my life had been spent in the deserts of the West, in a ruined city called Vegas. It was a life of solitude, my own family having died early, leaving me to fend for myself among the ruined wasteland that was Vegas. That all changed the day I encountered a tiny but fierce redhead, my love, my life, Lily. Of course when I first saw her, she had been just a cloaked figure sprinting toward the ruined building I called home. Its true name, given to it by the old generations, was the Excelsior. She was being chased by a pack of rad coyotes. The ensuing encounter, followed soon by a hasty escape from my previous home, I prefer not to dwell upon. For that is my past, and now Lily and her family, the caravan, is my life. And right now, that life is me desperately trying to remain on top of our caravan’s ten motor rigs as we attempt to outrun a gang of Mek Boys who have just come roaring out of the thick woods on their own custom motor rigs.
“How the hell did I get here?” I cursed out loud to myself, although my voice was swallowed by the roar of the rig’s engine I was currently atop, strapped onto the roof with some rope, leather straps, and a prayer. Sitting, and I use that word loosely, upon a padded cushion, which did little to comfort my now bruised ass as it was slammed down over and over onto the metal roof each time we ran over a bump. Which I was pretty convinced that was all this road was made up of: holes and bumps. Yanking my trusty rifle up, which is the only heirloom I had left from my long-deceased parents, I focused on trying to draw an unobstructed line on one of the quickly gaining Mek Boy rigs. Being a caravan, our rigs were burdened down with all kinds of scrap, supplies, and other things that we had picked up along our travels. So speed was not something we excelled at.
Mek Boys on the other hand… their rigs were their life. Rigs and raiding, these two R’s embodied the lifestyle these people tribed by, although Mek Boys normally lived in, or closer to, cities—more sources of scrap and parts to upgrade, repair, or even create, new rigs. Normally they didn’t just appear out of the woods. But that thought was for another time.
I finally managed to draw an unobstructed bead on one of the leading rigs’ driver, a crazy bastard with long, spiked hair and a pair of old goggles, his face covered in a plethora of strange red markings—some kind of tribal or superstitious marking. It was a wildly known fact that Mek Boys thought red coloring made things go faster. But regardless of what it meant, it was time to end him. I breathed deeply, focusing on his chest, the largest target, pulled the trigger… right as we hit another bump and my rifle jerked.
“Shit!” I swore as my shot went wild. I quickly sighted the driver again. This time my attention was drawn away from my target by the deafening roar of newly arrived engines, shapes suddenly blurring past as well as in-between our own racing rigs. The leading blur trailed behind it a length of fiery red, like a red, avenging comet. Lily, my beloved, had arrived, and with her came her units of scouts riding their two-wheelers. My beloved and her hand-chosen scouts were not much for running, unless it was running at anyone or anything that threatened the caravan and their loved ones.
A swell of pity momentarily rose within me for the Mek Boys, but that quickly transitioned into anger upon seeing sparks shooting off the armored front of the two-wheelers as the metal front plates absorbed and deflected the incoming fire. Anger was quickly replaced by a thunderous rolling swell of rage when I beheld sparks shooting off Lily’s two-wheeler.
I watched with barely contained rage as Lily swerved to move out of the firing arc of the Mek Boy who had stood up on the passenger’s side of the oncoming rig to gain a better line of sight on her.
My rifle snapped up, and the bouncing and jumbling below me seemed almost forgotten as I zoomed in, my rage focused. I sighted my target, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. The bulging eyes, the frantic stumbling upon the face of the once firing Mek Boy confirmed that my aim had been true. The driver lay slumped, a hole blasted in the middle of his helmet, blood and gray matter already oozing out. The rig went haywire, wheels spun wildly, jerking the speeding coffin-on-wheels sharply to the left. Which brought the out-of-control rig right into the path of another approaching rig. The resulting explosion was satisfying to say the least.
“Shoot at my beloved… I don’t think so,” I spat off the rumbling rig.
My shot, and the resulting explosion, had bought the caravan time. The sudden loss of two rigs had the Mek Boys slowing down. They had most certainly not given up the chase; they just needed to reevaluate the amount of danger the caravan posed.
The blare of gunfire brought another Mek Boy rig to a screeching halt, smoke pouring from the engine. The scouts had brought down that one. They circled it now, pouring lead into the passengers, who leapt out of the smoking wreck.
I glanced around, assessing our own situation as best I could from my vantage point. We had not emerged from this skirmish unscathed. Two of our rigs showed visible damage. One, a small rusty box-like rig, belonged to Julius and his family, Zena his wife, Vigo his son. The other was our heavy, water-tank rig. I didn’t remember who was currently on driving assignment for the tanker. They were both moving still, but smoke was rising from Julius’s rig, and the tanker was limping with what I assumed was a popped tire. A loud thumping suddenly brought my attention to my own vehicle. The large hand of Lily’s father, Angus, was slapping the top of our rig, he was roaring my name as well. “Jack! Jack!” Such measures were needed to garner my attention during any kind of chase, as the cacophony of sound the caravan created was overwhelming. I leaned down, tapping his hand to let him know I had noticed him.
“What’s the situation, lad?” Angus’s burly voice roared at almost equal volume as the engine.
I had to scream to make sure he heard me. “The Meks are backing down! Three of their rigs down! Julius’s rig and water tank are both damaged, but they’re keeping pace for now!”
Angus’s response was drowned out with the addition of another engine. Lily’s bike sped up next to ours. She looked up at Angus through her helmet. Her one hand left the bike handles and flashed quick, and at least to me, complex signs, a special form of hand symbols and movements they had apparently made up that conveyed meanings. I had not yet learned them. But I got enough of the meaning from the explosion of profanities that roared forth from Angus.
Bad news. Then again, in this world, once I left Las Vegas and my skeletal tower the Excelsior, I found that bad news was in fact everyday news. The world had survived the end-of-times only to find they now lived in the worst-of-times. The roar of Lily’s bike’s engine diminished as she slowed, falling behind to rejoin her scouts in guarding the flanks as well as the two damaged rigs. I banged the top of our rig, wondering what the concern beyond marauding bloodthirsty Mek Boys could provoke such a reaction.
Angus didn’t need to see me or know what I wanted to know. “Road up ahead is blockaded, meant to trap us. Bastards were gonna corner us. Gonna have to take an unknown route, lad. Keep your wits about you and warn me if anything looks off,” Angus called from below.
I suddenly wished I had not asked. The caravan had mapped a good amount of the main roads across this blasted land. It was almost a sacred parchment to our kind, showing all our secret routes and the knowledge we had gained along them. But for every route we had mapped, there were a hundred more unknown to us.
I had asked once about this and Angus’s response had been simple. “Because if ye found what ye considered a safe route, ye don’t damn stray from it.”
We were now going to be forced to do so, or be trapped, by a whole tribe of now vengeful Mek Boys. Sighing, I lifted my one free hand to rub my temples softly. From bad to worse. All I wanted was to camp someplace where we didn’t have to be afraid. So I could snuggle up to Lily and actually attempt to enjoy my new life with her.
The caravan began slowing, the roar of the engines diminishing only slightly. I gazed behind us and took note of the large dust cloud far behind us. Just far enough that I couldn’t see the size of the trailing Mek Boys mob but could judge it was fairly large. They were following us, thinking they were herding us to our doom. Waiting for us to fall into their trap.
We had to keep them thinking that for as long as possible. If they knew that we knew that the road was blocked and were going to take another route, they would push the attack. This time, they would swarm us, worked into a frenzy by the death of their people, but mostly due to the destruction of their precious rigs. So, slowing down was a calculated risk, but it was one that we needed to take. The water tank rig was having to slow. I saw eventually as we slowed that indeed a tire was blown. One of the four back tires. Smoke was still drifting from Julius’s rig, but not as much now. Either way would have to eventually stop. But for now, we pushed on.
Our new route came up faster than I expected, but to be honest I didn’t really know what to expect. It could be the same type of road we were on, which was a cracked, deteriorating, pock-marked, grayish black stone. But as long as it got us someplace safer, I wouldn’t complain. We were currently heading east, and under normal circumstances we would have remained going east till we hit the coast. I was excited for that. I had never seen an ocean until just over a year ago. To my surprise it had been only a few hours from where I lived. We now headed to what I was told was another brand-new ocean. I was excited to see it. But right now I needed to focus on the present, then an uncertain future.
The road ahead split, forming a cross shape. There was a path going south, and north—east as well—but we knew going east was no longer a possibility. It was Angus’s call, as our rig lurched to the front of the line. And slowly he drifted toward the north exit. I knew we would eventually head north once we reached the ocean, traveling along the ocean. Now we had to take a forced detour and begin our northward travels much earlier than expected.
The wooded area quickly gave way to a barren wasteland littered with rusted rigs and remains of old dwellings. This sort of sudden geographical change was not unknown. To go from areas of land where plant growth seemed to flourish to barren plots, where not even a blade of grass was to be seen for miles, occurred often. One moment you’re sweating under the blazing sun; drive a few miles, and you hit a dust storm that turns into a snowstorm. There were various reasons I had been told: poisons leaking into the water, strange blights that killed all plant life for miles before suddenly stopping, that even nature itself had gone mad from the damage inflicted upon the world. But whatever the truth was, nature continued to prosper, and its creations twisted by radiation and other strange chemicals were now fighting back. I long ago had heard a term used in reference to this phenomenon: Nature finds a way.
Well… fuck nature. Rad coyotes in the desert, mangy sore-infested creatures that, although cowardly, presented a danger when traveling in a pack, Grunters in the northwest. Grunters were something I thankfully had only encountered once. They were massive, hairless creatures, who I had been told were once called bears that roamed the woods. They killed all that they encountered except other Grunters. Damn things were big enough to knock down whole trees and had claws sharp enough to rip through a rig’s door to get to the fresh meat that was the people inside. And despite their size, they moved with great stealth, only a soft grunting noise giving away their approach—and your most likely impending doom.
The list of rad animals I had run into since leaving Vegas was growing rapidly, each one deadly and hungry for any flesh it could find. Hell, even plants were affected. The areas we had just passed through a few days past had long, hanging vines that blended in with the regular plant life. But upon touching living flesh they would coil around whatever was touching them, and bam! yank your ass straight up into the thick foliage where you would be wrapped up nice and tight till you died. But that wasn’t the end. Once you died, the vines would deposit your now rotting carcass by the roots.
I had started keeping a detailed log in an old, empty book Lily had given me. I thought it would be useful to have all the dangerous creatures we encountered and the ways around them, or the best ways to defeat them, written down. Angus and many of the caravan had loved the idea and had gone through great lengths to give me as much detail and information about all kinds of hazards and creatures. Sharing this information with the various people in the towns we stopped in for trading or resupplying gained our caravan a decent amount of goodwill.
Angus’s banging the rigtop once more brought my attention down to him. This time he held the caravan’s only magner. The device was wonderful. You placed both holes on your eyes and it allowed you to see really far away on the other end. This magner was broken. Some of the special glass was broken on the one side. But the other hole worked just fine.
I was confused why he wanted me to use it. My eyesight was fantastic, but I figured out why after a quick scan of the horizon. The dust cloud kicked up by the following Mek Boy rig hoard had vanished. Snatching up the magner, I peered through the one working hole, but even with the special view, I saw things in the distance. We had only been traveling an hour or so. I banged on the hood, and when Angus leaned his head out, I informed him of this. He quickly stuck his arm out and made a few signals. The rig behind use made two loud short beeps and the caravan began to slow and within a few moments came to a halt.
Angus hopped out, his thick red beard wild and unkempt like his daughter’s hair. “Keep yer eyes sharp, lad. If ye see them coming, start a-shouting.”
And with that he was off, the caravan stopping as the various families and workers jumped out to re-gas and see what damage was incurred during the raid and what could be done to fix the water rig and Julius’s rig.
I sat watch for over an hour, until Marcus, one of the other drivers, came walking past. Curious to the current goings on, I waved him down. “So what’s the status of the rigs?”
“Water rig is shot up, but nothing major.” Marcus sighed. “Julius’s rig is leaking oil. We got it patched up for now. But we will need to replace the damaged hose pretty soon. Julius was hit, bullet went right through the rig, but also right through his shoulder. Stubborn S.O.B. kept driving the whole time. He’s lost a good amount of blood.”
“Shit! Is he gonna be okay?” I interjected quickly.
Marcus nodded. “I think so. Zena got him all patched up and the bleeding stopped. But he ain’t gonna be driving for a bit. The Wranglers cleared out a spot in the back of their rig. Zena is gonna drive until her husband recovers.”
“All right. Hey, you know if we plan on camping here or pushing on?” I shifted toward Marcus, my legs swinging off the side of the rig.
“Angus seemed to be pushing everyone to move fast. So, I assume move on.” Marcus began moving away, heading back to his own rig.
“Hey, you seen Lily?” I called out quickly.
Marcus turned his head back but continued walking, a small smirk appearing. “Yeah, she is doing what she does. Off with the rest of her crazy girls, seeing what lies ahead. But don’t ya worry. She will be back soon enough, and I’m sure you can sneak off to get yourself a few kisses before we head out.”
My cheeks grew hot, as if I had been under the bright sun for hours. I merely nodded, turning around. I raised the magner up, pretending to scout the horizon, now eager to end this conversation. I had grown up alone and was unused to talks about physical affections with others. But Marcus had been correct. Me and Lily rarely got to spend any alone time together. Having alone time was a rare and precious thing when you didn’t have your own rig yet. Even more so when you belonged to such close-knit family. Eventually, when I proved my worthiness to my new family, I would get my own rig. For now, I rode in Lily’s rig. Well, to be more accurate, her father’s rig. Since she was my family, but I had no rig, I depended on the generosity of her father. Although that wasn’t really an issue. Angus was a good man. I had been told by others that he was extremely pleased that his only daughter had finally chosen a man to become one with. And that “said man,” a.k.a. me, would be joining the caravan, and thus keeping his precious Lily close to him.
I sat there for almost an hour awaiting our departure. The caravan members used every moment of that hour to perform all kinds of minor maintenance on their rigs. The last few moments before leaving were then used to refuel ourselves. I was given a portion of dried fruit and had my water flask refilled.
But since I was on watch, the only moment I was free to jump off the rig was to relieve myself. After that, it was back on up, strapped in, and watching the horizon to the south. The sun was growing a little lower in the sky, but we still had a few more hours of light. I spun to face the north as the sound of engines filled my ears. Lily and her scouts on their two wheelers had returned. I raised my magner to observe their movements, which would let me know if they were being pursued. But I could tell by their relaxed weaving maneuvers they were fine.
It was time to get moving. Exploration was the name of the game now. The final goal? Get back heading east on a route we knew. Exploration was a very dangerous thing in a wasteland already filled with danger.
***
We waited for only a few moments to listen to the scouting intel. Ahead about thirty minutes was a city, one that was most certainly not empty. Lily described a large amount of movement, as well as signs of life, smoke, noise, light, etc. The main question was whether this city was more friend than foe. Could be an uncharted free-town, at least for our caravan, but also could have been a Mek Boys’ hub. Which was a distinct possibility and would have explained the Mek Boys in the middle of nowhere ambushing us. Hell, it could even be a whole tribe of Savages. Normally Savages roamed the Wilds, as they were a nomadic tribe. But from time to time they entered cities to scavenge for supplies or to take them from the poor people that lived there.
But not all was bad news. A little luck seemed to be with us. The road we were on not only ran through the city, but peeled off to the east and west around the city. We would be able to skirt the edge of the city before heading east again, back in the right direction after only after a few hours heading north. All in all not a bad detour. We just had to avoid detection.
Which of course didn’t happen. We had moved slowly, the roar of our engines down to a dull rumble. Right as we made the curve onto the eastbound road I spotted an approaching greeting party speeding toward us, at least twenty rigs pouring out of the city. Banging on the roof, I gained Angus’s attention. “Angus! We got company approaching from the west, fast.”
“Damnit! Keep an eye on ’em, Jack. If any of those bastards get close, ya put a bullet into them like ya did the Mek Boys!” Angus quickly flashed a hand signal to the rig next to us. It replied with three loud blares from its horn. With that, the chase was on. We kicked our rigs into high gear, now once again fleeing for our freedom, but most likely our lives. I watched with a small pang of worry as I watched Lily fall behind, her scouts following suit behind and alongside her, dropping into formation as they fell behind to guard our rear.
This chase lasted for hours. The sun began to sink behind the looming horizon. But strangely enough, our pursuers never seemed to take the offensive. They would speed up, only to slow down as our scouts spun around and fired upon them. If they had been wishing to waste our ammo, they should have done it more often or sent up more heavily armored rigs that could take the hits. But every time we launched an offensive they withdrew, keeping a good distance most of the time. Even with the magner I couldn’t tell what their plan was. I hoped we weren’t being led to another trap like the one before. But our salvation came from a new and unexpected source.
The barren land we drove on, like before, was barren for miles upon miles. Small, scattered wrecked structures and rusted rig frames littered the side of the road. But beyond that, nothing, until suddenly on the horizon I beheld a flash of gold. The barren wasteland transformed from a sea of brown to a sea of yellow as we approached an endless field of strange, long, stalky plants. Row after row of them, as far as the eye could see. And in the middle was the long, and now small-looking, road. We passed through the plants, and I found they were indeed tall. Each stalk by my guess was at least seven to eight feet high. But this strange barrier seemed to drive off our pursuers, as they drew to a halt before entering the field of golden-yellow plants.
We drove for another hour, but night had fallen, and with the overcast we needed to stop. Those rigs that had working lights dared not use them except in emergencies. Since we no longer assumed we were being followed, we began to park, each rig knowing where he was expected to be. The road was wide enough for two cars to drive side by side, with the two-wheelers able to easily go between. We parked with two rigs on either side, their tires still barely on the old, crumbling, hole-filled road.
Angus’s rig was parked in the front, wedged between two other rigs. The rear was taken up by the Wranglers rig, forming an area in the middle where we could be surrounded on all sides. We always attempted to form a circle-like formation. The caravaners used a term to describe this practice called “circling the wagons.” I had no idea what the hell a wagon was. But it didn’t really matter. I knew it was done for safety. Within moments of the caravan stopping, people had already begun setting up their bedrolls, tents, and various other things. Our little caravan was as busy as a hive of stiggers—stiggers being small little flying insects that made large flaky nests. And if disturbed, they swarmed out and bit the hell out of a person. Their bites were not painful, but they left terrible red welts that if one was unlucky could become infected.
After unstrapping myself and hopping off the rig, I stretched for a minute before my curiosity got the best of me. I wandered over to inspect the strange, endless rows of this stalky yellow plant. As I drew closer, I saw they seemed to have strange pods attached to them and scattered all around their bases. Reaching out, I almost touched one of the strange pods, but my common sense, as well as the memories of what plants were capable of, quickly had me snatching my hand back to my side where it belonged. A sweet chuckle filled my ears, one that I knew well and already made my heart beat quicker.
“Aye, my beloved, it is good for ye to be cautious. But yer okay. These be corn stalks. They are a food plant. Although…” She paused, her voice taking on a more cautious tone. “I have nay seen it in such a plentiful manner. Not harvested, just left here to grow and then rot. There be piles of it all over the ground. Who would be daft enough to allow so much food to be wasted.”
“Who indeed, daughter, who indeed?”
Angus had snuck up on the both of us. The whole family was super stealthy. And that was impressive for a man who was almost six and a half feet tall and built like he was part Savage. “But that be not our concern, nor a blessing for us, for the corn be well beyond eating. Gather up the fallen parts. They will burn well and will supplement our dwindling wood supplies.” He clasped an arm around both me and Lily, dragging us into a vise-like hug. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his daughter’s head. “I’m glad yer safe, my sweet lil firefly.” Firefly, a very personal term of endearment. “Yah did me and our family proud today.”
“Da!” Lily cried out.
I watched in amusement and slight discomfort from the tight hug as one of the toughest warriors in the caravan cheeks grew a deep red as she squirmed like a caught animal.
Angus laughed softly before looking at me. “And don’t think I will be forgetting you, lad. Ye did a good job today. I heard from the scouts how yer shot took down two rigs.” He patted my back and leaned down toward me.
I closed my eyes, my body growing tense. Oh Lord, please don’t kiss me.
Thankfully no kiss came, only a whisper that turned into a knowing chuckle. “Yah get a little hot under the collar when people be firing up my lil firefly. But that’s good, means yer gonna protect her even if she be able to handle it herself.” His voice took on a more solemn tone. “Ye always have to look out for yer wife. Even if yah think she can handle it, ye need to always be there, always.”
I looked up, but Angus was already turning away, his vise-like bear hug gone as she stalked back to the caravan. “He is talking about your mo—”
Lily raised her hand, stalling the end of my sentence. “Nay, Jack, ye know I won’t be talking about her… not yet.” She raised her head, those beautiful green eyes shimmering softly with barely withheld tears, a soft smile given. Turning, she bent down and scooped up a large pile of the old corn before carrying it back to the center of the caravan.
I spoke softly as she walked away, her large patchwork cloak swaying behind her. “Okay, baby, but one day I will need to know what happened to your mother.” I knew she didn’t hear me, but that was okay.
I turned to gather up my own supply of old corn lying on the ground, but froze as a wind brought soft whispers to my ears. Whispers from within the corn. I blinked and looked up. “Hello?”
I heard rustling, and my body tensed for a moment, every hair on my body suddenly standing straight up and a cold chill ran down my spine, but I quickly attempted to shake it off. “Just the wind brushing these plants together… just the wind.” I hurried back, eager to be within the center of the circle where the flicker of firelight was already growing.
I sat now, finally able to relax. The sound of merriment filled our small caravan as we sat together, ate together, and celebrated another day ending with one another. There were many reasons we had to be merry, although our meal tonight was spare, more dried fruit with some dried meat. The company made it a feast as my beloved sat next to me, her slender but firm frame nestled into me, her infectious laughter filling the surrounding area.
But despite the warmth of my love at my side, something gnawed at me. The fire was blazing now, the corn burning well, but the light… it didn’t reach as far as it should. Shouldn’t it illuminate more? As I look around, everyone’s faces seemed hidden by shadows, all but the beauty right next to me. Her pale, freckled beauty almost always shined. But everyone else… shouldn’t I be able to see their faces more clearly? All I had had to drink was water, no alcohol. That was when I realized the fire didn’t feel very warm at all. My brows furrowed as I shivered and pressed closer to Lily. She, as always, felt warm. And with her warmth I finally managed to drift off to sleep.
***
My dreams were dark that night: eyes in the corn, eyes that never blinked; whispers that I heard but didn’t understand, spoken in a tongue I hoped I never did comprehend.
I awoke with those whispers fading in my mind, now only half remembered echoes. The sun had risen, and I lay curled up next to Lily, a blanket over us, as we lay in the open by the now dead fire. I was not the first to awaken. Zena, Julius’s wife, was up along with their daughter. Julius had been propped up and they were changing his bandages.
I called out softly, “How’s he doing, Zena?”
She turned, and a smile stretched too thinly upon her slender face. “Not well, Jack. The bleeding has stopped… but he has a fever now. We have a little elderflower, so I’ve made him some tea to help. But we don’t have much more in stock. I hope we can find some, or something else once we get out of these…” Zena paused, looking around slowly, as if seeking something. “…creepy fields. They make me uneasy for some reason.”
“I know what you mean, Zena.” Slipping from my lover’s warm embrace, I snuck to relieve myself behind one of the rigs before starting to pack things up. I wanted to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. My uneasiness had grown with Zena’s acknowledgment that this place was indeed creepy.
It was only a matter of minutes before others arose and their movements awoke others, and within fifteen minutes the camp was busy once more. In thirty minutes, we were heading down the road, the movement comforting me. I opted to sit on the top of the rig this time. Sentries were not needed, but the fresh air and sun brought back glimpses of Vegas, sitting by the window, the warm sun and a steady breeze kissing my skin. I had few fond memories of Vegas, but that was one of them.
So lost was I within my own memories of the past that I didn’t realize we had stopped till squealing brakes and a hard jerking stop shook me from my reverie. I looked around quickly, my heart skipping a beat, assuming something was wrong. But I quickly determined the cause for our stop. A motionless rig sat on the left side of the road some hundred yards ahead. It was a small rig. A small amount of paint left on its rusty frame showed that it had once been a bluish tint. But beyond the color, and the fact it still seemed to have some bags strapped to it, it seemed abandoned.
“All right, lads, we have come across this before. Be on the lookout for ambushers,” Angus cried as he stepped out of the rig below me.
Our scouts, who had been in the lead, dismounted from their bike rigs. Lily, who was normally always in the lead, stayed behind as she motioned with a few jerks of her hands for her fellow scouts to move ahead. As they stalked closer, they all withdrew a small pistol, along with various types of one-handed close-combat objects from small scrap blades to actual blades, and even a spiked club.
Lily was busy retrieving her preferred method of combat when off the bike—her bow. I had seen her skill with it the first time we met in Vegas. She had placed an arrow straight through a rad coyote’s glowing green eye, while she was flipping through the air. She was a deadeye with her bow, and as she nocked an arrow, she began to stalk forward.
A fleeting thought to bring my own rifle to bear crossed my mind. But unless something happened, I did not want to risk shooting through my new family. Only Lily with her bow had the accuracy not to be inconvenienced or worried by people between her and whatever her target was.
“Movement!” one of the scouts cried out, and as one the whole group dropped to one knee and raised their pistols. Even before that happened, Lily’s bow was drawn and aimed at the bug.
“Whoever ye be, show yerself. No violence will be given if none is shown.” Lily’s confident voice was the one to call out. We waited, many gazing out among the corn, waiting for the sudden rush of ambushers.
The door of the rig creaked open, and instead of being greeted by an ambush, we were met by a pair of grimy oil-stained hands. “P-p-please d-don’t fire.”
The stuttering voice somehow matched the gangly figure that crawled forth from within the rig. He was a spindly man wearing worn, tattered, dirty blue-jean overalls, his chest exposed as well as his clearly showing ribs. He looked like he was half-starved to death. A ratty brown beard and mostly bald head accentuated his almost crazed features. He got to his knees, head lowered, arms raised, but even from a distance they could be seen shaking, almost struggling to remain upright.
“D-do you have any f-food? Or w-water.” His raised arms lowered slightly, grasping one another in a desperate plea. “Please.”
The scouts, glanced back at Lily, and Lily glanced back at Angus. I watched Angus think for a moment, but I knew him, and I knew the rules of our people… well, my adopted people. No violence had been given, no disrespect shown, no sense of an ambush, only a desperate man who was starving and thirsty. Angus finally nodded, and with that simple motion, guns and bows were lowered and people were already exiting their rigs. I guess it was time for an early lunch.
Zeek, as we soon found out was the man’s name, sat around us and had almost been silent for the past fifteen minutes, well beyond his slurping and gulping as he drank and scarfed down all we offered him. Finally, after a loud belch, he slumped back against one of our rigs. He gazed up, those eyes brighter looking as he was finally refreshed.
“Yah all a group of Trekers?”
Trekers, as I had found out, was the name other people had given to us and those like us who braved the wilds of this ravaged land to bring knowledge, trade, and the almost lost art of hospitality to the various groups of survivors we encountered. They had a very strong sense of honor. Being hospitable was important to them. A Treker would rather starve and go thirsty than breach the code of hospitality. Of course, the same courtesy was expected in return from those welcomed into our camps.
Our camp had once taken in a young boy. He had claimed he was abandoned and starving. The real truth was his family sent him in to steal supplies. He would drop them off on the edge of the camp during the night so his family could pick them up. He was caught one night after suspicion rose. Angus personally broke one of his hands, and I mean smashed it up bad, as well as one of his feet, and left him there for his family to find. He had broken their code of hospitality and had incurred my family’s wrath. I prayed this man had no such ill intentions in mind.
“Aye.” Angus nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m Angus, head of our family. I officially welcome ye to our caravan.”
“Never seen your caravan in town before… in fact how was it you are here? My people in Lankers would have never let someone go east through the corn fields.” Zeek slowly put down his bowl, looking now with a strange intensity in his eyes toward Angus.
Angus rubbed the back of his head, riling up his own curly red locks that he had gifted to his daughter. “Ah, well about that, lad. We be on the run from some Mek Boys earlier in the day. We were traveling our known routes to the south, and the damned fools tried to ambush us. They blockaded the road east. Thankfully me daughter and her scouts discovered the trap. We were able to bypass it, but that took us north toward yer city of… Lankers?”
Zeek nodded.
“Well, we didn’t be knowing if your people would be welcoming, or if the town be filled with Savages. So, we skirted the outskirts, attempting to get back eastward. When rigs emerged from yer city, we feared the worst and fled.” Angus wiped his brow now, which had broken out with beads of sweat, something that happened when he realized he had, in hindsight, made a bad decision.
“They weren’t coming out to get yah; they were coming out to warn yah.” Zeek’s confirmation of what we all had been starting to think brought out a cluster of groans and profanities among the group.
“Aye, I be seeing that now. Something seemed off to me when they didn’t fire at us. Their quick retreats upon being fired upon were also baffling.” Angus’s voice was strained as he wrung his hands together.
I knew in Angus’s mind he had wronged those people, and even though it was unknowing, had been rude toward those who had only wished to help him and the caravan, which he was responsible for. But his self-imposed guilt was stifled, as Angus was not a dull person.
“Why would they be wanting to stop us from going this way? What is past these fields that warrants such caution?”
“It’s not what lies past the fields. It is Those that dwell within that are the problem.” Zeek’s voice had become a chilled whisper upon uttering the strange term, or name.
Silence reigned for a moment, as if that statement had somehow stolen the voices from all gathered. I found my voice first, but noticed that I felt cold inside, as if chilled from a strong wind that didn’t exist. “Who, or what, are Those that dwell within?
“No one knows what they are. Or where they came from. But they and the fields have always been here as long as anyone can remember. They dwell among the corn, never leaving it. They always hunger, and they try to trap people by leaving things you want or need along the edges of the corn. If… if you take something, you are trapped here unless you pay for your freedom with a willing blood sacrifice. Otherwise, you will drive and drive. No matter how long you drive, the corn will never end. I… I am the last of my family. My wife, child, and I were traveling to a small fortified town on the other side of the corn. There is more living space out there, and the corn keeps the Savages, and all other hostile creatures away from us, at least from one side.”
“Come on now.” I crossed my arms, my eyebrows rising in obvious disbelief. “Ghosts and monsters don’t exist, at least not the kind that can’t be explained by rad poisoning or various chemical mutations. If there are some kind of people living in the corn, causing problems, they can be handled one way or another. Hell, let’s just burn the corn. You all know how well it burns and how dry it is. Let’s burn the fields down and just drive away. It will keep them occupied.”
Zeek was already shaking his head, a now steady stream of tears falling. “That won’t work. My wife, Sheila, and I tried this. We had stopped to relieve ourselves. We only took our eyes off of him for a second. But that was all they needed. He was too young to understand, only a few summers old.”
Zeek reached down, fumbling with something inside the front pocket of his overalls. Slowly he withdrew a strange, round, colored object with a small loop of string sticking out of it. He held the item up and it slowly began to spin, more string coming out of it. The disc-shaped item spun, and it began to glow, beautiful colored lights flashing.
There were soft gasps, as well as other sounds from those around us, along with soft whispers wondering what it was.
Angus was the one who answered the crowd. “It be a child’s toy. You wrap the string around it, and when you let it fall, it spins. It seems this one makes colorful flashes. So, you’re saying since he picked this up, you were now trapped here, unable to leave?”
“We became desperate. Sheila grabbed Vigo and tossed him in the rig. But we deep down knew it was too late. After five hours of driving, we knew we were doomed. We blamed one another, screaming and fighting till we were out of gas. We knew not to expect any others, and even if they came, they could do nothing. If we joined their group and drove with them, they would be cursed as well.”
Protests suddenly erupted, but Zeek quickly waved his hands. “I can sit with you, I can share drink and food with you, just not travel. Well, I can now, for you have taken from Those that dwell within.
“Finally, with a sudden, well, what we thought was inspiration, we decided, like you just did, to burn the corn. Siphoning what little gas we had left in our tank, we lit both sides of the fields on fire. It seemed to work like a charm. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the corn like some holy fire wiping away the evil that marked this land. It was just about this time we realized the smoke was growing thicker around us and we found it hard to breathe. We stumbled into our rig, covering Vigo in a blanket, and holding on to one another. The last thing I remember was hearing Vigo’s and Sheila’s coughing. Then I passed out. When I awoke…”
Zeek had paused, a fresh set of tears once more running down his cheeks. “When I awoke, Sheila was gone. The passenger’s side door was open and there was a large bloody trail leading from the seat, across the road… and into the corn. They had taken her. I never knew they could leave the corn, but it seemed that our trespass against them, had allowed them an unknown freedom. They had taken her, and the corn…” Zeek gazed around, looking from one side of the road, to the other. “…was back, untouched by the flames that only a short while ago had consumed it.”
Soft gasps filled the area as my family recoiled with fright at this tale. Off in the distance I heard a soft cry.
“Dear God, I can see the dried blood still on the road. He is telling the truth.”
Lily was the next to speak, although her voice was filled with a mixture of emotions to such a degree that even I could not identify what she was exactly feeling. “Where be your son, Zeek? Where be Vigo?” Even her accent seemed stronger, her voice growing harder as she spoke.
Zeek shook his head slowly, lowering it in shame before raising an unsteady arm and pointing back toward his rig. “I… I wouldn’t… I couldn’t let them take him. Yah gotta understand. They took her, and I could stand hearing him cry out to me for his mother, then days later for water and food.” Zeek’s head rose and his eyes now seemed almost vacant. I made it quick… when he was sleeping. He didn’t suffer; he didn’t know. Just a quick jerk and a snap and he was gone.
“If I had been brave enough, I could have saved them. They require blood, willing blood freely given. That is their price for anything taken. One must walk into the corn, a willing sacrifice to Those that dwell within. If I had been brave enough, my wife and child would still be alive.”
I reached out and gently pulled Angus back a little before whispering to him, “Angus, you’re not actually believing this crazy? There might be something in the corn. Something had to drag his wife away, but there ain’t no ghost people who dwell in the corn, that can’t leave the corn, but then can leave the corn, but only when you burn the corn. Then they can leave to steal someone which then magically regrows the burned corn. It’s ridiculous. Something killed his wife, maybe even his child, after they ran out of gas here. Combine that with starvation and thirst… anyone would break. I’m sure once he is able to sleep, drink, and eat more we will eventually be able to find out what truly happened.” I released a loud breath, realizing my hushed rant had left me slightly breathless.
Angus just nodded and gave me a strange, almost sorrowful, look. He turned to everyone and raised his hands. The family quickly grew silent. “This be unexpected and unwanted news. But do not fear. You are my family and I, as always, will take care of you. For now, let us gas up Zeek’s rig. He will join us as we test to see if this curse has truly befallen us. For three days we shall travel. If we are nay free of the corn fields, we shall then decide what be our next step.”
And like that, the decision had been made. I knew better than to question Angus publicly, as even as his only daughter’s husband it would force him to act against me and would bring shame upon Lily. Shrugging, I headed back to my rig and went to hop up and onto my padded and belted scouting seat on the top.
Angus grabbed me gently as I began to climb. “Nay, lad, I want ye in the rig with me. We need to be having a talk.”
That was unusual. Unless weather was bad, I almost always rode on top. My days spent sitting up in a tower in Vegas surveying my surroundings had sharpened my eyes. I could detect the slightest difference in the horizon and spot movement most would miss.
As I made my way into the passenger’s seat, I glanced in the back. Angus’s rig was packed with a little bit of everything. It held his, Lily’s, and even my own personal possessions. Along with food, gas, and most of the more precious trade goods we had, the larger rig was stuffed. Enough room had been made, so someone could go lie down behind the two seats in case the weather was bad and we needed to sleep inside. Angus jumped in right after I did, and within a few minutes—since we needed to gas up Zeek’s rig—we were on the move.
Angus was oddly quiet for a while as he drove. The silence broke after perhaps half an hour. “Ye have been sheltered, lad. Your city, Vegas, it was protected from certain things. Sure, there were rad creatures, and various other tribes constantly warring for dominance, but ye need to understand. When this world almost died many, many years ago, many things did die, many things changed, as well as many things were born into this world. But there are things, far older things, that awoke when the lights of the world died. Magic kept those things at bay, the magic of the old world. Your city seemed like it was ruined, but below it that old magic still flowed. I knew this for a fact, so I seen it with me own eyes as we left. Your tower was a pillar of light. The light of the old world. The dark things that awoke in this world are driven away by that magic. It pushes them away almost, keeps them at bay.”
“Angus, please, I’m no child,” I interrupted, slightly irritated at the fact Angus was buying into this guy’s craziness.
But just as quick as I had cut in, I was cut off. “Nay, lad, you listen to me. I, as well as the others, even Lily, have seen things, encountered things. Many terrible, some amazing. But all of them are not caused by radiation, or by mutations. I have even seen people who glow with a strange light, a greenish… witchlight. These people can summon forth powers normal people couldn’t even imagine—conjuring terrors, or flames, or even healing terrible wounds in a matter of seconds. They are rare, but each trip across these tattered lands brings more and more stories of them, more encounters with them and encounters and stories of unknown things, terrible unexplained creatures and occurrences. Your city, because of the old-world magic that runs below it, was safe from these things. But you are with us now; you are part of me family. You need to know; you need to believe. Because believing, can save yer life. Disbelief will do nothing but keep you blind until it is too late.” Angus gave me a rather long, slightly stern, sideways glance.
I met his eyes with my own steady and unflinching gaze. “I understand that sometimes things seem like they are magical. They seem like they have no possible explanation other than being caused by otherworldly entities, or mysterious spooks and creatures. But… I lived in a city where things that I did, things that I saw, that looked like magic. Or people who seemed like they could use magic were in reality scammers, people who wanted to control you or gain things from you. I made water appear high above the ground from apparently nowhere. I created fake light without a battery being seen or used.” Your own daughter thought it was magic. She has told me so. But it wasn’t.
I could see Angus was about to interrupt, his mouth already opening. “Let me finish. I understand that I have not seen everything in this world. Perhaps there are spooks, magic, and otherworldly creatures that have awoken. And for your safety, Lily’s safety as well as the rest of the caravan’s safety, I shall be cautious about anything I encounter that I am unsure about.” I already did this, so this wouldn’t be much of an issue for me, but I wanted to say something to placate Angus.
Angus nodded slightly. We continued driving in silence, which was fine by me. There was indeed a growing, gnawing worry inside of me as the corn fields continued undisturbed, mile after mile. Hour after hour.
***
We stopped for the night. The mood was somber. The corn still remained on all sides, and now it exuded a sense of malice so thick it weighed us down. Fires were kept low, using only small amounts of our dwindling wood supply. None dared to approach the corn and partake from the mounds of dried plants that lay around the stalks. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Julius was getting worse. Zena tended to him, but his fever was growing and the caravan was out of any remedies to aid in his recovery. Things would be over soon. Zeek had mentioned there was a small settlement on the other side of the corn. That I remembered, and that statement of his I believed. Once we reached it we could barter for treatment for Julius, resupply, and be on our way with new knowledge of the area and two new towns to trade with.
Early next morning I became terribly aware that my worldly views on the supernatural might need to be reconsidered. I stared down, as did the rest of my group, at the signs of a campsite, one made in the middle of the road, one with a large, dried, bloody drag mark on the outskirts.
Our campsite, the one we had found Zeek at. The same site that we had left… two days ago.
The caravan was in an uproar. People were panicking. Angus was doing all he could to keep his people from losing it. Some of our clan claimed that they had not used any corn and thus were only cursed because they traveled with us. Others blamed Zeek, saying we only became trapped because he now traveled with us.
The caravan was on the verge of tearing itself apart, fueled by fear of endless days among the corn, of a slow death at the hands of thirst or starvation—all of this brought on by the fear of Those that dwell within.
I was not concerned for Zeek. No one would dare harm him. Such an atrocious act would be an affront of all we stood for. Any Treker would die before bringing harm unto a welcomed guest. At most, they might expel him from our group, making him travel alone. But if we were truly trapped, that wouldn’t accomplish anything. We would just keep running into him, over and over and over again. People leaving was more of an issue, as no one was forced to stay with the family. Any who chose to leave would be allowed to, with whatever property was their own as well as a farewell gift of food and supplies. But once you leave, you may never return. And such a loss would be a terrible blow to our family.
Angus traveled from rig to rig, speaking to the families they belonged to. He was a physically imposing man, but he was gifted with a silver tongue. And within a few hours, tempers had calmed, although everyone was close to the breaking point. Fear, worry, and sorrow still filled the camp as we broke down for the night. Angus was meeting with the heads of the other families, trying to work out some kind of plan. I stood on the outskirts of the caravan, staring into the corn.
I heard the whispers again. But this time I wasn’t so sure it was just the stalks rustling in the wind. I felt eyes upon me but saw nothing.
“Jack?” Lily’s sweet voice broke the rustling whispers from within the corn.
I turned, the chill of this night banished by the nearness of Lily. “Yes, my lil firefly?” I smirked, responding to her with her father’s, until recently, secret nickname.
Lily’s beautiful green eyes narrowed. My greeting was returned to me in the form of a small but powerful fist being slammed into my arm.
I groaned, cradling my poor arm. “Damn baby, I think you broke it!” I chuckled.
“Ye be fine. Hush your crying and man up.” She pressed up to me, placing a kiss on my cheek before leaning her body against mine. “You on guard duty?”
“Yeah, I won’t be in bed till late. Moon still has…” I raised my hand bringing my four fingers together, and placed them next to the moon, my index finger barely touching its outline. Then flipped my hand once over, then once again. Each of my four fingers measured an amount of time. Once the moon reached a point in the sky equal to my tenth finger, I would be done. “Till just around here.” I held my hand there for her to see.
I smiled at her and saw those lovely plump lips turn into a pout. “I hate these long trips. I want ye all to myself. I hope the town after this has rooms for rent. I want alone time with me man.” She leaned in close, her warm breath tickling my neck. But just as quick as her breath had warmed me, my skin grew cold as she drew away, hips swaying in a terribly teasing manner as she headed back toward the inner ring of the caravan before heading to, then into, our rig.
The night was anything but quiet. The sounds of slumber filled my ears. The fire had all but died out, but that was okay. My night vision had fully kicked in, and with an almost full moon, I was able to see pretty well down the road. But it was not there that I was looking. It was within the corn. The wind had died down, but the soft indecipherable whispers continued. I nervously gripped my precious rifle, holding it tight. The whispers continued, their words just beyond comprehension. But I felt—I knew deep within myself—that I never wanted to hear what they were saying. For such knowledge was not meant for me.
The whispers were suddenly interrupted by a soft groan. Followed by a dragging-like sound. My mind instantly flashed to Zeek’s story and the bloody drag mark. My rifle snapped up and I gazed around, swinging it back and forth, looking for the sound. Another soft groan filled the night. My heart began to race. Should I wake the caravan? Should I alert someone? Where the fuck was the other guard on post? How has he not heard that noise? Unless, he was the one groaning. Perhaps Those that dwell within had gotten him.
I moved quickly to the opposite side of the caravan, peering around a rig, I found the guard… sleeping, slumped against one of the rigs, gun in his hands. He was snoring softly.
“Shit.” I was pissed but also relieved that he was alive but asleep. If we survived this… no, not if but when, I would inform Angus and let him deal with this issue. But for now, I needed to figure out where the groaning and scrapping had come from.
Heading back to my side of the caravan, I heard the faint groan once more. As I peered along the edge of the rig I had been guarding, I finally saw movement, something dark crawling slowly out from between two rigs about thirty feet ahead of me. It looked like a person. Hefting my rifle, I crept forward, staying low until I had closed the gap, raising my rifle. The groaning stopped and the crawling figure turned its head to look at me.
“Julius?” I mouthed the name softly as the figured revealed itself to me. “Julius, what the hell are you doing?”
His voice was weak, raspy. “Please help me, Jack. I—I don’t have the strength.” Julius shuddered, his body wracked with coughs, which he tried his best to muffle.
“Help you? Damnit, Julius, what are you doing out…?” Insight flooded my mind, and I knew what he was trying to do. Zeek had told us that the only way out was a willing blood sacrifice. Those that dwell within demanded a willing blood sacrifice. “You can’t. What about Zena? What about Vigo?” I was angry. The growing volume of my voice was evidence of this.
“Please, keep your voice down.” Julius was wheezing, struggling to speak complete sentences. “I’m dying…, Jack. My blood… is poisoned… from my… wound.” Another rasping deep cough rattled poor Julius’s body. “If those things… in the corn demand blood… let them… have mine. Hopefully, they will choke… on it. I… am willing to… do… this for my family, for all of… you. But I don’t… have the strength. Please, lend me… some of yours. Help me walk to my… fate like… like a man. Not… crawl like a child.” Julius was wheezing with each breath now, speaking was becoming more and more of a labor for him.
I tried to swallow the sudden large lump in my throat, but it just wouldn’t go down. “Julius, there has to be another way. You just can’t go in there. Who knows what will happen?”
“It is… the only way. I’m already dead. If… I die out here… it means nothing. But if I go in there…” He looked toward the corn. “It means everything! I… I won’t let Zena or Vigo die… because I was too weak… like Zeek was.” He gazed back from the corn up to me. “Lily, might die… Angus might die. If… I don’t, go in… who will? Who… will die for this caravan? Please… help me to save everyone. Please, Jack, in the name of God, help me.” His raised his arm, hand open, reaching out for mine.
God forgive me, but I took it. I put his arm around my body and helped him to his feet. And then I led him to the edge of the corn and let him go. For a moment, I thought he would fall. But I watched as Julius summoned up all that was left in him and slowly stumbled into the corn.
The whispers from within the corn grew louder, now chanting in a language I still didn’t understand, and was grateful for that fact, as the words made my stomach twist, and my mind shuddered in revulsion. I shut my eyes tight, but the chant only went on for a few seconds.
When I opened them again, Julius was gone. I didn’t even hear the rustle of corn from someone moving through it. Just silence, not even the whispers. I turned, tears in my eyes. I walked back into the caravan to wake Angus and let him know what had occurred.
***
Angus had quickly awoken the rest of the caravan. If Julius’s sacrifice had indeed freed us, he was not willing to wait till morning to find out. Zena had remained quiet, her eyes red from tears as she now took over the position of head of her family. Somehow, I think she knew what he had planned. Perhaps he had told her. No one asked; no one wanted to know.
Zeek had chosen to stay. He was unsure if Julius’s sacrifice had paid for him as well. He would not risk cursing us twice by traveling with us. He would wait an hour and then follow. If he was free, he would meet us on the outskirts of the corn fields.
Before we left, Angus walked over to Zeek, who was busy packing up his own rig. I watched as Angus placed an old revolver and a single bullet into Zeek’s hand. “In case you can’t get out, lad, don’t let them take you.”
Zeek just nodded, loaded the revolver, and jumped into his rig.
We drove for hours, the sun starting to creep into the sky, our hope dwindling. But the roar of Lily and her scouts flew back through the caravan, howls of joy erupting from them. They spun around, driving past us and pointing. Up ahead we saw in just a few minutes what had brought them such joy—the end of the corn fields. Just ahead of us they ended and were replaced by rolling hills covered with green grass and sparse trees and shrubs. Off in the far distance upon a prominent grass covered hill, civilization appeared. A small town, most likely the outpost Zeek had mentioned to us. But to me and I am sure others in our caravan it was the sign of our victory over the dark forces within the corn, a victory bought with blood, but a victory nonetheless.
As we exited the corn, I gave one last look back toward what could have been our prison and tomb, the seemingly unending fields of corn. I wished I hadn’t. Dark figures stood among the stalks, watching us leave: dark shadowy figures with red glowing eyes, eyes that never blinked, eyes that always watched as we one by one left their domain. Those eyes looked hungry. They looked angry.