Dusk Territories: Always Burning (29 page)

“Is there something wrong, Graham?”

“No. Let’s move.” They had enough on their minds.
But, something was wrong. Something was too familiar about all of this. And he didn’t like it.

_

Brink stepped out of his truck like he owned this world. River knew that wasn’t true.

Their high speed chase led them away from the rest of the fray. Brink knew Drifter wasn’t on there, and chose not to say anything. River knew better. The moment they broke away from the crowd, she knew it wasn’t them.
Hilarious, really, how a man’s pride made him not see the facts.
It may be part of his plan as well. Like before, he wasn’t after Drifter. But, one person on this truck was.

That person would be none too happy that his revenge just eluded him.
Again.

This was why River always intended to work with as few people as possible. It was like sugar in the bloodstream. Too little and you’ll crash and burn. Too much and you’ll be looking for ways to just burn it off. Brink only saw the latter. He wanted people that he can just dissolve over and over again to get what he wanted. On some grounds, she agreed. People
were fun to play with. But, there was
a time to play with them. Timing was always precious.

I’m not going to tell him that. I’m just going to play along.

River jumped off the side, energy renewed. Expending so much fire left her weak for most of the chase.
It took time for the blood to come back to her head and her body. But when it did, she was better than ever. She couldn’t stop herself from skipping and singing.
All these serious and stoic expressions could really dampen a person’s day. “Where are the smiles?!? Mhmmm. It’s
such
a nice day,” she said, prancing around to Brink’s sight.

“We are almost to our goal, little girl.”

“That’s more reason to
celebrate
silly! We have them cornered.” She saw Ragnar getting off the side of the truck. “You should at least tell him that his prey is gone,” she whispered.

“How would
that
benefit
me
?” Brink threw his empty magazine away and reloaded. “And you know better not to tell.”

“Oh, Raggy is going to be
so
mad
. You really shouldn’t make people angry.”

“Does that apply to you too, River?”

“Oh, if that was a threat, you’ll be the first to know. Just think of it as advice from a person that makes people livid.”

“Good advice.”

River bounced happily ahead, through the wreckage of the building. She was the first to step into the battered lobby. She liked the tile of this room, an alternate pattern of black and white. Plastic plants sat scattered all over the floor, along with old papers and insects. Furniture was toppled over and broken, mostly due to the crash. A large hole, where the front desk used to be, showered stray concrete on to the ground. Beyond that was the smoldering vehicle.

They know how to party
. Crashing through the front door made her squeal from excitement.

Soldiers quickly swarmed the building after River entered. Their guns were raised, clearing corners, yelling out some obscene military jargon
. She paid them no
mind. She headed straight for the crash site.

From the look of it, no one was present here. River danced around the side looking at it from all angles. No bodies—as much of a shame that was— was present. But there was blood. She kneeled down and pressed her hand on the blood. It was still warm mostly aside from one puddle. That one was cold and darker than the rest. She dipped her finger in it, tasting it. She knew human blood. This wasn’t it. “Graham is here!” she cried out.

Brink stopped what he was doing and went immediately to the girl. Ragnar followed.

“Any signs of Drifter?”

River knew the answer was no, but she sucked the blood from her finger in silence. “I don’t know. There are others. But I can’t identify them.”

Ragnar rocked, clutching his axe. The barbarian was seeping out of the doctor. That was nice. The doctor had been around way too long. “Where are they?”

Lighting a flame with her palm, she illuminated the ground for a better look. The blood trailed up to a small green door to the side. She could only guess that they were heading up stairs. Whatever company that Graham had, they would probably set up shop somewhere safe.
“They are up stairs. Someone wasn’t careful with their wound.”

Brink began shouting orders. “They wouldn’t risk going to the fourth and fifth floor, but we can’t allow them to escape if they are. Team 1, stay on this floor and surround the area. Team 2, scope the upper floors. We will handle the middle. Understood?”
Why all the shouting?
River thought.

“Affirmative!” His soldiers cried out.

So loyal or so blind
. River couldn’t decide which.

“River, Ragnar, you are coming with me.”

“Any reason for that,” River said, grinning.

“Keeping an eye on both of you is one and Ragnar might want his revenge is another.”

Putting it on kind of thick there, huh, Brinkies.
“You’re right. Carry on.”

Slipping into the anger in his blood, Ragnar didn’t notice the lies. If he was only a little calmer, he might have seen it. It wasn’t hard to see. River found that adorable. The fact that you could be so mad that it blinded and crippled you was a good game to play.

“As a courtesy, I will take point.” Brink grasped his gun, walking passed River. “The moment I see that you are up to something I’m going to shoot you.”

“I have no clue what you are talking about, Brinkies.”

“Good because you’re an ally, not a friend.”

“Oh you know what a friend is. Can you spell it? You have those? Please tell me more about that!”

“I had more than you realized. That can’t be said about you. Now, let’s get going shall we?”

“Of course!”

She let him take his lead, but she couldn’t promise to let him keep it.

17

Death by Thirst

“This is what happens when you let someone play in the sandbox for too long. They start thinking they’re in control"

Everyone thought that Drifter kept Wood in check. In some grounds, that was true. Drifter held the leash. However, the leash was chained around his wrist. The human couldn’t separate from the dog. They kept each other in line. Or the opposite, they allowed each other to go wild.
Now we’re awake,
Wood thought. Both of them were sleeping before.

Huston was plenty different than it was at a distance. The tall buildings leaned upon each other like dominos. Glass from the windows bounced the moon’s glow from one to another endlessly. Bridges and overpasses buckled under their own weight, leaving very few entrances into the metropolis. Cars littered the roads, filled with the bones of drivers that had no way to defend themselves. Any vegetation that once decorated the city was now either dead, or inversely, out of control. The latter crept into any water it could find, creating webs of ivies and weeds throughout the landscape.

In the dark, Wood only saw thick greys. Daylight gave the city a fractal quality. Now in moonlight, it was just bathed in depression. A city once full of life had been rendered down to only a mass of concrete and hopelessness. As the trucks rolled on, the name of the Tear became more and more obvious. Being so close to the water, the land opened, splitting the state in half. Water from the Gulf seeped in in small waves to the city, going in with the tide of the night. If anything could show how damaged the world was, it was here.

Wood stood on the trucks, peering deeply into the darkness. Crisium had much better night vision than he, but considering her injuries, she was currently left out of the battle. That required the next best thing, him, to be the scout for tonight. They were in dangerous territory. From all accounts,
it belonged to the Ancestors.
However, from the look of it, that was contested. Savage groups
usually liked the main cities.

They fought like savage dogs, Wood heard on his travels. Usually, Drifter never chose a side in these. This time was going to be different. They were going into contested territories looking for a fight. They were one of the sides and Drifter was bloodthirsty. His uncle took no company since his speech, sitting in silence as he read. Only Wood knew of his plan. To the rest he told them simply to watch the show.

His mind drifted off for a moment, eyes still sharp. The next thought came of Graham. That idiot and his group of idiots devised the diversion. Despite their disagreements, Graham had something going for him. He believed this world could change and people needed to be protected. Drifter knew that too. Both knew now that blood was going to be spilled for this cause. Peace only went so far in this world, or the world before. Wood stared down at his hands, blood that he knew too well.

“Thinking isn’t going to make this any better.” Heron appeared behind him. The slender woman moved with elegance, carefully sitting beside him. “Graham made the choice. I dare say that he changed you a bit.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t do what?” Heron tapped her cheek. “You found him sort of intriguing. All of us did.”

“He’s pretty good.”

“You act like you aren’t,” Heron laughed, “You just hide it.”

“I hide it. But, cruelty’s a good mask, ain’t it?

Heron, caught off guard for a moment, quickly recovered. “You’re pretty good with words. I heard that you taught. What did you teach?”

“Biology. High school.”
      

“Oh…oh!” The revelation meet her
eyes. Heron
had pieced together the connections with teaching and his crime. Sweeping her hair from her face, she lowered her gaze. “Seeing a real hero is different than making one up for your own tale. That’s why you’re intrigued.”

“That would do it, miss. How’s it lookin’ from a former damsel in distress point of view?”

Heron went painfully quiet, looking down. This time she laughed at herself. “You’re quite right…”

Dropping their verbal battle, they soaked in the atmosphere before the actual battle. Minutes from now, it was going to get noisy. For now, the two just sat under the stars as they approached what would be their destination. Wood glanced deeper into the surroundings. He saw movement now, only shades within the ever expanding shadow that combated the moonlight and its lively, yet borrowed, rays. The lights of the caravan went off, war wagons moving slowly.
We’re getting close.

Heron pulled out her radio, tapping the side button. “I’m seeing some movement.”

The radio buzzed back. “Movement, eh?” Haggis answered.

“Specifics, lassy.” As usual, the other brother asked in kind.

“I can’t see ‘em,” Wood answered, cynically.

Heron repeated the reply, adding: “Just because we have moonlight doesn’t mean we can see
everything
.”

“Then what good’s either of ya then? Can we get Drifter on the line?” Haggis joked.

Drifter was planning. Wood’s skills weren’t the only reason he was sent away. “No distraction until it’s absolutely necessary,” he told him. Low on numbers, low on resources, but still full of tricks, that is how Drifter rose to power. There were very little times he liked to be alone. Company was something that had become used to. Solidarity only had the company of thoughts. “Are you finished plannin’, Unc?” Wood said, having grabbed Heron’s radio.

The radio crackled back: “Alread
y on the line, ladies and gents.”
His voice was smoother than even before. For a minute, no one recognized that it was him. As captivating as a preacher, but a smooth as a radio host he asked: “Are y’all ready for a show?”

In his mind’s eye, Wood could see his uncle in a chair, feet kicked back. One of his endless arrays of hats
would be tilted over his eyes, grin widening. Whatever broke in his mind, it wasn’t his charisma. In fact, it seemed to have gotten better and more controlled. A tune set in his words. “I’ve been ready for a sweet bit people, my people. The question stands, are y’all ready?”

No one said no. Everyone still bubbled with revenge.

“Woody.” Uncle only called him that for one reason. Wood felt his skin boil at the thought.

“You’re gonna want to get into the car, Heron.”

She nodded and left without a rebuttal.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, my boy, but business needs to be done. I’m gonna ask again, for you this time. Are
you
ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Formalities, my boy. I ain’t about to give up my manners over somethin’ as foolish as blood. I apologize for sayin’ it my boy. But alrighty then. Go ring the dinner bell cause…your parents are home.”

The moments before always stood still. Tears filled his eyes when he heard the words. It was the only thing that could make him that angry. It was those
people, those meat bags that
he tried to recover from that ignited blind emotions. It felt good to let it go sometimes. That is why Drifter chose it. It was the only thing that harmed him and healed him at the same time.

Bones were the first to crack into place, bending back. Skin peeled from his skin, a thick carapace tearing through. His back cracked into place as his body expanded with muscle. His back would then create a shell, twisting and turning through his muscles to make room. Remaining skin that he had left would turn green. His hands and feet changed, morphing into claw like features from five digits to three.

The face was the worse. He felt it open as the jaw became wider and extra teeth burrowed through the gums. His skull became narrower, green hair longer and wild and eyes thinner and sharper. He had to think of things in this phase; a pain and happiness that rivaled everything that he felt.
They abandoned you.
It took years to find a family I cared about. One that cared about me.

That made this pain worth going through. The depth of his gratitude couldn’t be measured in pain. And he would destroy. Destroy everything that ever thought about touching the person, maybe even people that would learned to love him.
They tried to kill him
. Realization stung deep. Maybe it hadn’t settled until now, but it had. They were
all
going to die.