Abject in the Dust

Chapter 1 - Rise of the Maggots

"Here!" Hands which hadn't seen water in weeks tossed a hessian sack on the weathered wooden desk. The flies which seemingly guarded the entrance to the sack parted momentarily as more civilized hands reached forward and tentatively pulled open the neck.

"Good God!" The Mayor's shout had to compete with the sound of his chair toppling to the floor as he jumped to his feet.

"What's the problem?"

"It's a bag of hearts. What is the meaning of this?"

"You wanted your problem to disappear, didn't you? What did you think I was going to do, talk nicely to them and ask them to stop kidnapping, butchering and eating your kith and kin?"

"Well, no. I knew you would, well ..."

"Kill them." Sam completed Mayor Annel's thought as she pulled up a chair and collapsed into it heavily.

"No, but this ... this is not what I expected."

"Look!" Sam said as she placed her legs on the desk and crossed them with a heavy thump; mud from her boots falling away in clumps and dirtying the otherwise pristine surface. "You wanted them gone and you wanted proof before payment. A dozen hearts cut from still fresh bodies, what more proof do you need?"

"No, no, no!" A wiry figure slid up alongside his master. Myre, Mayor Annel's deputy – a man who only worked for the good of himself and who held more power than was good for any in the small settlement of New Destiny. "This is no good."

"Who asked you, maggot?" Sam snarled.

"Fair payment on proof that the entire clan had been ... dealt with. That was what we agreed." Myre said as he wagged a wiry finger in the air. "For all I know, you could have ambushed a group of travellers, or other settlers. These hearts could have come from anywhere."

Sam smiled – perhaps in silent admiration at the way in which Myre's twisted mind worked, or perhaps for the way in which her reputation had preceded her arrival.

"What did you expect me to do? Drag back a dozen bodies over fifty miles of wasteland?"

"Not my problem, marauder. Fair payment for definitive proof. That was our bargain." Myre hissed.

"Call me that again." Sam said as she retrieved a blood-stained blade from her boot. "And I'll remove what little manhood you possess." She wagged the knife at Myre's groin. "I'll be back in an hour for my money. It would be in your best interests to make sure I am not kept waiting."

Sam's boots echoed in the over-sized room with its polished stone floor. In the bright light of day, complemented by the fine, if tired, furnishings and Annel's mayoral robes, it was an echo of the past grandeur of the premises. The seat of democracy for what was probably once a wealthy town. It still was compared to most who now occupied these lands, but where tens of thousands once lived with little regard for where their next meal came from, now a few hundred struggled to survive.

Survival was not just dependent upon the continuing source of fish, supplies of which continued to decline year on year. Others continually sought to take what precious little remained. Itinerant groups of scavengers looking to steal food and resources were a continual threat but were little more than an irritant compared to the real threat – a threat which relied upon the likes of Sam to eliminate.

Lack of food. Lack of hope and purpose affected people differently. Some fought against their lot and tried to better themselves. Most of the people in this town fell into this category – even the snivelling wretch, Myre and scavengers of the wastelands sought to better their position. Others found that they could not cope and looked to end their lives in a manner which suited them best. The third grouping were the problem. Those who went feral. Those who regressed and formed savage tribal clans in the wastelands. But it was not that which marked them apart from their more civilized neighbours in the towns and settlements, who were clans and tribes by another name. It was the taste for human flesh that those within the wastelands had developed.