A Truth Untold

Chapter Four

Four weeks had passed since Loric had adopted, nursed and cared for Cid, enabling the now healthy Alsatian to recover from his ordeal. He was growing fast, now up to Loric’s waist height, and could easily sprint every morning from one side of the bridge to the other countless times. His fur was shorter, yet a much more vibrant, majestic shade of golden brown, giving a glowing appearance that seemed almost magical when stood against the dancing rays of the morning sun.

Loric had stayed very much the same, the same tattered clothing, and the same tangled, short dark hair. His face was still the young yet intelligent appearance it had been for many a year. His mood had lightened, however, as the company had given him a materialistic purpose to life, not just the simplistic conditions of surviving. He had something to hold onto, someone that would never leave his side, a companion. It was all he wanted, all that he had craved during the many lonely days he had spent dwindling his time performing pitiful acts that were to gain some enthusiasm or enjoyment.

After a full day of walking, running and generally just relaxing in each other’s company, both Loric and Cid were truly exhausted. Loric looked forward to returning to his comforting bed; sleep a pleasant thought within his mind. As they had done so on hundreds of occasions, Cid and Loric turned the corner to their home, the grey, decrepit structure still the same, rusty tin can it had always been. Slowly, Loric worked his way along the cracked tarmac, jumping over the side to a lengthened ridge which held his sleeping bag, mattress and a small shelf with bare essentials such as a pot for cooking, stones, a lighter and some vegetables he grew in several jars alongside road behind. It was dull, but cosy, home none the less.

Lifting the pot and taking a few vegetables and herbs, he carried the objects back across and out into the middle of the road, carefully avoiding the few holes that, although he would have been able to navigate his way safely blindfolded, were uncovered and offered nought but the most sudden of deaths to those negligent enough to disregard them. He set down the bucket, bringing together a few bits of rubble and large stones to form a makeshift furnace, and with his lighter, he started a small fire from bits of scrap wood crumpled inside. The blaze engulfed his eyes, the sight mesmerizing as the flames danced before him, licking the already charred wood. Loric’s hunger began to increase, and hurriedly he cooked the vegetables until the juice ran through the few holes and cuts that had formed underneath the bucket. His mouth watered at the sight as the stew came together, his hands twitching, anxious to satisfy his keen taste.

At last, the stew was finished, and rushing to place the meal on his plate, whilst burning himself on the hot metal rim, his eyes stared at the plain, uneventful food.

It was as if he had been shot. His body froze. Tight. Strained. His ears sharpened, clinging on to the threatening noise that had erupted behind him. A gigantic crunch had disrupted him, resounding from behind, not far from where he sat. His hand had sprung open in shock; the plate now released hurtling to the ground and smashing on impact, spraying hot, steaming food across a wide radius. His heart raced, pounding furiously inside his chest, a result of the panic Loric felt at the insecurity as to what amount of danger he faced. Slowly, unsure, he turned his head, fear raging in every nerve and feeling. But the crunch that he had heard before was merely a warning of what was to come, and as Loric turned his head, he had little time to register what he saw before the earth trembling blast exploded in front of him, lifting him from his feet and sending him into oblivion.

*

The bright light engulfed his every sense, his sight blurred by the white that seared through the night sky, his hearing deafened by the mighty power of the awesome blast that had torn seemingly through the curtain of creation. His hands groped across the debris, charred rock and scattered tarmac, the cuts that had formed along his pale, clammy skin allowing his warm, crimson blood to weave its way through the ground. The pain he should have felt, the stinging from his opening wounds, the aching from his concussed head, the screams that should have emitted from his mouth due to the impact his frail form had made with the steel strut, as his body was flung against it; none of these were heard. His mind was in such an unsteady balance that the mere act of one of these natural occurrences could destroy and leave him for dead. Motionless, he could only wander the paths of uncertainty his curious mind was now walking in a desperate search for answers. Why had this occurred, or more importantly, what had led to its occurrence? How come, after so many years of solitude and seclusion, that a sign of existence had chosen to show itself now? What was the answer to the question he could not find?