The End of the Fantasy (Book #6 of the Sage Saga) (23 page)
Read The End of the Fantasy (Book #6 of the Sage Saga) Online
Authors: Julius St. Clair
“Why? What is your thinking?”
Samantha asked patiently. Alex could see her mother’s chest swell for a moment, but it then deflated, as if she merely had to release a bout of hot air. She had another chance.
“It’s…It’s best to protect the area of exposure.”
“Is there something you would do first?”
“YOU WASH YOUR HAIR!” Samantha roared
, her voice echoing across the valley. Alex didn’t know what was sadder. That she couldn’t remember such a basic concept, and one that her mother had told her several times before, or that she didn’t even jump back in surprise anymore whenever her mother exploded. Either way, she knew her part in the next scene.
Stay quiet and obey.
“Wash it out,” Samantha replied.
Alex nodded her head as soon as she heard the right answer declared from her mother’s lips. She still couldn’t look her in the eyes though.
“I forgot,” Alex whispered.
“Mm-hmm,” Samantha replied, but then she took a quick breath and continued. “When we get back to the cabin, make sure that you do exactly that, and then come join me at the table. We can talk about improving your technique for next time.”
Alex nodded again.
“I will help you wash the flesh out if you like,” Samantha offered
as they started for the cabin. Alex was surprised by the offer, and she also knew that she dared not decline.
“Sure,” she said, and the atmosphere felt a little lighter.
They walked on in silence, but Alex felt no hostility from her mother. And so, her mind was able to wander without worry. She admired the tall cypresses they strolled past or gasped whenever a squirrel leapt from one branch to another and it seemed as if he wouldn’t make it. It was true what her mother had said: Death was everywhere, and for all living creatures.
They entered their three-room cabin and stomped off as much snow as they could by the door. Samantha kicked off her shoes and walked across the creaking wood to light the iron stove in the left hand corner by the door. Alex watched her for a moment, and she found her eyes falling upon the two daggers her mother kept sheathed at her sides, sitting in two holsters on her handcrafted leather belt.
The way her mother moved with those blades in her hands…it was like watching visual poetry; unspoken, but as majestic and beautiful as the first snow of winter. She had a question for her, but she wasn’t sure how probing she should be. Her mother tended to shut down when their conversations got sentimental.
Samantha finished her mission of lighting the stove first, blew out the match in her worn and leathery hands, and then she turned to face her daughter.
“No worries, Alex,” she said, her face as stoic as ever. “When I was your age, I made many mistakes. The only reason I am the best is because I never gave up. It isn’t wrong to wish you had my abilities, but you have to remember that you’re still a child.”
“How long will it be until I’m not a child anymore?” Alex asked. She had meant to sound meek, but it came off bold. To her surprise, Samantha showed no reaction.
“That is up to you,” her mother replied. “When I was a child, I didn’t make so many mistakes. I had to grow up quickly to survive. You have it good. You live a life of luxury.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t become as good as you,” Alex said, feeling more confident. Her mother was in a rare mood—answering her questions instead of shutting them down.
“Then stop making mistakes,” Samantha replied.
“Out there in the wilderness…children don’t last very long.”
Samantha and Alex’s story continues in
Stricken
Now available for Preorder:
HERE
The rare compliment caught Alex off guard and nearly made her brush with death worthwhile.
Like a mother giving birth and holding her baby for the first time, the pain of the past few months became distant memories, on the line between numb and forgotten.
She ran her fingers through her hair while trying to kill the grin crawling up her face.
Samantha’s eyes were averted, however. Focused solely on her daughter’s long dark hair—the hair of her father. Samantha scowled.
“We should cut your hair when we get home,” she said through sharp, icy breath.
Alex’s grin died.
“We can’t,” she pleaded, her hands slowly falling from her scalp. “I don’t want to. Can’t I keep my hair as a reward? As a job well done?”
Samantha sighed. She wasn’t sure if she should
“We’re going to cut it,” Samantha said adamantly.
She reached up to pull at one of her strawberry curls. “Mine as well. It gets in the way of what we have to do.”
“We’re not soldiers,” Alex said, her face scrunched up and turning red—none of it from the bitter cold. “We don’t
have
to do any of this. The apocalypse is over. It’s
been
over. This hair…it’s the only thing I still have that’s mine. It’s all I have to remind me of Dad. When I look in the mirror and see this hair, I imagine what he looks like…what he would say if he was here, but if you take that away from me. I will have
nothing. Fucking nothing.
”
“Steel your mouth,” Samantha said calmly, her eyes twitching only for a second. “It has been decided, little girl.”
“We’ll see,” Alex replied with her fists clenched tightly. Samantha knew her daughter wasn’t stupid enough to attack her, but she was surely thinking about it.
What was sad to her was not her daughter’s rebellious attitude, but the kindling within her very own soul. She almost…
hoped
her daughter would fight her…so that she could prove herself as the alpha female and prevent any future dissention. And she knew this wasn’t good. She was not inflicted with the Stricken’s disease, but she had a virus within her nonetheless. It was sick. It was despicable. It was
growing.
When she came to, Alex had already walked away, heading in the direction of the cabin. She wouldn’t be surprised if her daughter just kept on walking past the house and never returned. Hoping that wouldn’t happen, she shuffled behind Alex slowly, through the forest of cedars and redwoods, fallen branches, and off-white snow. Samantha took a breath of biting frosty air and crossed her arms.
In moments like this, there was only one way to take out her anger—to kill more of the Stricken…perhaps
watching
her daughter walk past the cabin would be worse than not knowing if she did. She would go home later.
For now, she would go where she belonged. To the dead.
And the snow.
Samantha and Alex’s story continues in
Stricken
Now available for Preorder:
HERE
“I’ll leave the decision up to you,” Samantha replied
, and Alex tried to maintain her excitement.
“Why are you so happy?” Samantha asked with a scowl. “You have made your decision already? So quickly?”
“I have.”
“I will still be cutting mine,” her mother replied, fidgeting where she stood. “Our hair gets in the way of our conflicts. Removing most of it will give us an edge in the future.”
“I like my hair,” Alex said with a straight face. “And it’s all I have to remind me of Dad.”
“We shouldn’t dwell so often on the dead.”
“That’s funny, coming from—” Alex cut off her words, but enough were said to get the message across. Samantha sighed heavily. She wanted to reverse her decision in letting Alex determine the fate of her long dark hair, but her word had been given.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, trying one last time to promote reason. “You could think about it some more.”
“I’m all set,” Alex said happily as she practically skipped back toward the cabin. Samantha watched her as she slowly disappeared into the horizon, touching each cypress she passed tenderly, picking up pine cones and tossing them up and down in the air, laughing at the squirrels that leapt across the branches and even beginning to
whistle
.
“Kids,” Samantha muttered.
And then she made her way home.
Samantha and Alex’s story continues in
Stricken
Now available for Preorder:
HERE
Alex huffed and sheathed her dagger into her leather holster, made by her mother and given to her on her last birthday.
She found little sentiment within it. It was a necessary tool, with no love or emotion poured into its craft, just like her mother’s every action. Like her words now. They weren’t said to solidify their bond as mother and daughter. It was to make her feel more confident, so that she would be a better killer. A more reliable partner.
“I could have been killed,” she muttered, but Samantha wasn’t paying attention to her—it was on her hair.
“We should cut it,” Samantha said, more to herself than Alex. Alex’s eyes widened in alarm as she clutched her hair with both of her stained and aching hands.
“You can’t,” she said firmly. “I
love
my hair.”
“It’s a liability.”
“Can’t I keep it as a reward? For all the shit I just endured?”
“You didn’t do it all yourself.”
“Let me keep my hair,” Alex said one last time. Samantha wasn’t sure whether she should
Alex stared at her mother, waiting for a response.
And as the seconds ticked past, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing more and more. Eventually she shook her head and scoffed.
“Are you kidding me?” Alex shouted at her. Samantha glared back but her lips didn’t even tremble. Her eyes, distant and listless, might have well been two miniature mirrors—reflective, but no more than alive than the objects they were usually placed beside. Alex felt more alone with her mother than she did when she was actually by herself.
“Do you even care?” Alex scoffed.
Samantha sighed. She knew she should
“I won’t always be there,” Samantha said.
Alex crossed her arms as a breeze flew past them. Standing there was doing neither of them any good, and she could already feel the cold settling deep in her bones. But her mother had finally spoke, and she had to either seize the moment now or wait until she felt so inclined in the future.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t need you,” she hesitated for a second. “I’m not ready for you to leave me alone yet. My training’s not over.”
“It may never be over,” Samantha said, barely moving her lips to speak.
“What are you saying? That if something like that happens again you’re going to let me fend for myself? You’re not going to help me?”
“I might,” Samantha replied, and Alex closed her eyes.
Samantha nodded at her daughter’s admission but Alex still wasn’t satisfied.
All she did was appease her mother’s philosophy. Nothing would change. The conversation wasn’t finished. It was just put on hold until tomorrow.
“Come on, let’s go home,” Samantha said. Alex muttered an inaudible agreement. Before she shadowed her mother back home, she took one last glance at the violence they were leaving behind, soon to be swept under a blanket of white. A second grave for the nameless they had put down like a rabid animal.
She looked back at her mother and felt that she was at peace—which was sad, because how could anyone be comfortable with leaving their daughter in the clutches of death? What happened to her that could make her turn out this way? She wanted to know…but she was afraid of the answers, and what they would do to her mother if she remembered.
She took one last glance at the dead as they began walking through the forest.
This world isn’t for children,
she thought to herself.
Childhood is nothing but a dream.
Samantha and Alex’s story continues in
Stricken
Now available for Preorder:
HERE