Apocalyptic Organ Grinder (3 page)

For Tolek.  For all of The People you’ve murdered, for the tears of fathers, and the heartbreak of wives.  For each and every life you’ve stolen ….

Lila was close enough now that she could see the naked bodies of Myra and Jarnell piled upon one another.  A pool of their collective blood seeped across the ground. Light gray lumps of tissue stuck to the spatter on the tree they laid under.  They would never love again, would never laugh, or know the warm embrace of passion.  Like so many before them, their lives had been cut short by one of the faceless executioners known only as Sweepers.

The man in white stepped out from behind the tree with his rifle shouldered, ready to unleash death at a moment’s notice.  The fool didn’t even realize that the danger he sensed was so close.  That it crept up behind him with intent just as murderous as his own.  He looked forward, searching the woods with his eyes, but never thought to simply turn around.

The spear felt warm and heavy in Lila’s hands as she took another step forward.  Within minutes, she would be close enough to strike.  She would know the blood of her enemy and revel in his agony;  the spirits of her brothers and sisters would sing ballads of her glory through the vast halls beyond the Veil..  They would finally be able to cross the Shining River and know the peace that only justice could bring.

Justice is not yours to take.

Tolek’s voice was so vivid in Lila’s mind that ,for the first time since she began stalking her prey, she paused.  It sounded as if her husband were standing just behind her, leaning over her shoulder and whispering into her ear.  His voice was calm, but stern.  It was the same tone she’d heard him use countless times when reprimanding the children.  But never with her.

He deserves to die, Tolek.  You, of all people, know what his kind have done.  How they stray into our lands to make widows and orphans.

The clear skin stepped forward as if he suspected the ground were about to crumble beneath his feet.  Yet Lila could tell his caution was not born entirely of fear .  He moved with the confidence of a hunter, of one who had just begun to fuse his spirit with that of the forest.  His instincts were not as keenly honed as hers, of course;  but his poise betrayed a skill that would be used to slaughter those who allowed their focus to waver for even the briefest of seconds.  He would rob them of life, love, and happiness as easily as other’s might dress in the morning.

This is anger, not justice.  There’s no glory in assassination, my wife.

Lila stared at the man’s back, picturing the exact spot that would allow her spear to pierce his heart.  She could make it so that he was dead before he even felt pain.   One swift blow, one well placed lunge, would be all it took.  Myra, Jarnell, Tolek:  they would all be avenged.

You are of The People and you follow the Way.  If it’s redress you seek, take it to the Elders.

The voice of Tolek was right, of course.  If there was punishment to be doled out for this settler’s crimes, it was not her decision to make.  Only the Council of Elders had it within their power to proclaim guilt or innocence, to penalize or pardon. While her instincts sang the Blood Song so strongly that she felt its power surge through her veins, honor and tradition demanded a different path be taken. Killing this man would be no different than claiming that she was as wise and just as the Elders and that was a conceit she was not prepared to claim.

Lowering her spear, Lila stepped backwards as quietly as she’d advanced.  Her eyes remained focused on the murderous interloper, but there was no fear of stumbling or giving her position away with an ill-placed step.  Her mind had mapped every detail of the terrain as she’d stalked her prey and that inner topography now guided her departure, ensuring that each step was as sure and silent as a tree spirit.

Fate, however, had other plans for her.  As she neared a cluster of oaks, a squirrel chittered overhead and the man in white spun around.  For a moment, neither man nor woman moved.  Their eyes were locked together like partners in a dance older than Time, each gazing upon the face of the enemy and wishing the other dead.

Lila knew she was too far away.  Even if she hurled her spear with all her might, it would only barely break the skin.  It wouldn’t penetrate the man deeply enough to keep from falling out, much less pierce any of his vital organs.  He, however, had the advantage of an Old World weapon with a range even the greatest of The People’s hunters could not hope to match.  So she did the only thing she could:  Lila ran.

The gun shoot boomed out behind her like the angry rumbling of the Sky God and something whizzed by her ear so closely that she felt it graze her eye.  Almost instantaneously, the tree beside her erupted in an explosion of bark, sending splinters of wood flying through the air as the hunk of lead burrowed into its trunk.  Though she’d never fired an Old World weapon before, she understood the concept and adjusted her retreat accordingly.

         Zigging and zagging, she ran erratically, allowing instinct to guide her movements.  As long as he couldn’t predict her trajectory, his shots would not find their mark.  As long as she was as unpredictable as a rabid fox, she would live. 

Lila had hoped that the settler would be foolish enough to continue shooting at her, that he would deplete his ammunition and be forced to reload the antique weapon.  For that would be all it took to transition from quarry into aggressor.   One moment when he stood, defenseless and alone. 

The man, however, wasn’t as stupid as most.  As the forest blurred by, she heard him crashing through the undergrowth behind her.  He burst through thickets and splashed through streams, cursed between haggard pants as a low hanging branch clipped him on the forehead, and made more noise than an entire herd of deer.  But not once did he try to drop Lila in her tracks.  Instead of wasting his shots, he simply pursued her, waiting no doubt for an opportune moment to present itself.

Ahead, Lila saw jagged crags of stone rising up from the earth like the walls of some great temple for a forgotten god.  Unlike the forest, there was no green:  the trees thinned out as they neared the base, devolving into scraggly bushes that looked as if their bark had withered away;  grass turned to dirt and the dirt became something as hard and packed as the cliffs towering over it.  The surface was covered with pebbles and Lila’s heels kicked up little clouds of dust as she followed a circuitous route through the center of the mountain.

She knew this place.  The People called it The River of Life.  Winter coated its peaks with snow and ice, which the coming of Spring then melted away.  The rocks glistened wetly in the sun and runoff flowed down the precipices like slow-motion water falls.  At the end of the journey was the gulch through which Lila now ran.  A gully that once a year swelled into a river and quenched the thirst of seedlings struggling to take root.

This was a sacred space, one of those areas that perfectly illustrated what it meant to be alive and in the world.  Its power wrapped around Lila like a protective cloak and she felt a shiver course through her soul as she ran.  Whether she lived or died was of no consequence:  the wind was cool against her face and hair, the ground was firm beneath her feet, and no one would ever inhabit this particular place in time again.

Rounding a bend, Lila leapt over a carpet of dried leaves that had no place being that far into the ravine.  She hit the ground with her shoulder, clearing the debris entirely.  Smoothly rolling so that she now looked back the way she’d come, Lila sprang to her feet again and raised her spear.

Breathing heavily, she watched for the man to come.  The time to run was over.  Besides, there was nowhere left to go;  on all sides were nothing but sheer walls of rock, so treacherous and steep that even a mountain goat would struggle for purchase.

Ignoring the massive boulders surrounding her, Lila listened to his feet scuttle through gravel and the sharp gasps which accompanied each step.

He was close now.

“I am a hunter in the tribe of Clay,” she whispered,  “daughter of The People and chosen wife of Tolek.  Today I face my ancestors.  May they always walk with me.”

So very close.

IV.

Gather at the feet of the Elders, brothers and sisters, and listen to a tale from the time of our ancestors.  May they always walk with us …

It is said that before the Days of Tears, clear skins and The People alike were scattered like grain before the breeze.  In these times, the cities of the Old World still strove to touch the sun but their stone pathways were layered with the bodies of the dead.  Man hid in the shadows like frightened animals and offered up tearful prayers to the Old God, who seemed to have abandoned them at their time of greatest need.  Without the blessings of their deity, they traveled through their defiled home like those who walk while still dreaming.  The dark spirits who lurk outside the veil saw this and cast out a net which entangled their minds with fear and confusion and many were the ones who took their own lives in despair.

Not content with this, the dark spirits infested the decaying flesh of the fallen, seeping into the meat and causing vile liquids to leak from the mouths, noses, sphincters, and pores.  As more and more spirits crowded into the empty husks of the dead, the stench of evil rose like an invisible cloud.  It has been told that so great was the presence of the dark ones, their forms could be glimpsed, wavering in the air over the bodies like heat above a fire.

As creatures who walk between the worlds, this same stink also called Rat and Fly to the unhappy dead, who lacked even the earth to be buried within a mound.

“Man goes hungry,” said Rat, “but why should we?  Is this not our home as well?”

“I agree.” Replied greedy Fly.  “Let their stomachs know the pangs of hunger while ours are filled.  They smashed my kind with implements of death and lured us into strips that were like sticky sap from which we could not escape.”

Rat nodded in eager agreement, crying out, “They crushed the skulls of my brothers and sisters with cruel traps and tainted our food with poison!”

“We owe them nothing.” Said Fly.

And so it came to pass that they gorged themselves upon the deceased.  What the gluttonous pair did not realize, however, was that the evil contained within the bodies longed to feed upon the living, just as Rat and Fly did the dead.  Carried on Fly’s wings and Rat’s whiskers, the evil took seed in the open wounds of man.  Their injuries soon smelled of the grave and roots spread out from the afflictions.  Intent on strangling the heart, red tendrils crept just below the flesh, growing in both length and heat with every passing day.

As with all things, the universe seeks balance.  So it came to be that with Divine wisdom The Great Spirit planted Its own seed into the fertile minds of two men.  First among these was a clear skin, called Homer Anderson among his people, upon whose head hair would not grow.  The second of the chosen was John Redtree, he who is greatest among the ancestors, may they always walk with us.

Together, they gathered the tribes of man and a great exodus from the cities of the Old Word followed.  Going to the forests and fields, they established a new city which was called, at that time, Hope.  The clear skins tried to treat The People with bandages and poultices, as it was not yet known that we were Chosen and could not die from the same affliction which had killed so many.  Together, Homer Anderson and John Redtree built homes for their people from scraps of the Old World.  They gathered food and water and tried to ensure that none of their brothers and sisters would ever know the ache of hunger within their bellies.

Yet many were the mouths they had to feed and within the span of a moon their supplies were emptied.  While their people ate grass like goats and deer, the fallen cities were plenty with food that had been left behind in their haste.  So it was decided that men should go back into those dire, haunted lands and seek out the nourishment that was so desperately needed.

To protect themselves against the evil spirits who dwelled there, these men donned suits of white and affixed masks and goggles to their faces.  Loading themselves into carts which required no animals to pull, they swept the remains of the Old World and returned with a great bounty.

After the food had been anointed with boiling water to bless it and drive away lingering spirits, it was declared it should be shared equally between all people.  But the clear skins were like Rat and Fly and they cried out for more than their share, claiming that nourishment should not be wasted upon the dead but heaped upon the living.

And thus was yet another seed sown.  Soon it came to be that clear skins feasted upon the endowment while The People looked on with hollow bellies.  Angered by this, some among The People talked of taking the food by force and claiming the share that was rightfully theirs.  Yet there were others who danced like birds for a single scrap thrown their way.  These traitors to their own kind went to the clear skins, telling them of the plans, and in the dark of night the clear skins entered into the homes of The People, taking their weapons and leaving tears in their wake.

Even then, however, the evil which had seized the heart and mind of Homer Anderson was not satisfied.  While our People did not die from disease, those who attempted to help us could not avoid their fate.  The City of Hope again knew the pestilence which had driven them from the Old World and a cloud of fear spread across the land.

In these dark times, The People were driven from their homes and caged within pens whose walls were made of wire with metallic thorns.  No more was even the smallest amount of food shared with our ancestors, may they always walk with us.  They were left to eat the bugs which crawled through the mud and it has even been said that the hunger was so great as to madden the minds of men and lead them to the taste the flesh of the dead.