Aftermath of the Reckoning

Chapter 4

Zoey stared at Patch with distrust as they ducked to enter the small enclosure.

How can I trust a man who so easily kills his partner?

The area couldn’t be more than 10 feet wide. Roots hung from the ceiling and dry leaves covered the ground. The sun provided very little illumination through the foliage, but it was enough to confirm the absence of dangerous beasts or insects, for now.

Patch sat and leaned back against a wall of roots and dirt. “We’ll be safe here for the night,” he said, and reached inside his jacket.

Zoey knelt at the opposite end and watched him anxiously.

“Don’t worry, it’s just water.” Patch pulled a small flask out and tossed it toward Zoey.

Zoey caught it. Twisting the cap off, she smelled the contents. Normally she would reject such an offer. However the last 24 hours had been grueling and she was very thirsty and exhausted. She drank.

“Careful, you’re dehydrated. Too much water and you’ll puke.”

Nausea was the least of her concerns at the moment, but she finished drinking and secured the cap. “The man who attacked me, did you kill him?”

“Karnakle isn’t dead, but he’ll be asleep for a while.”

Zoey couldn’t read him. She generally could discern whether someone was lying, a talent she’d possessed even before the days of the Reckoning. Perhaps she could blame the encroaching darkness as it partially masked his expressions. Or maybe it was the way he seemed to look through her, focused on some distant point.

She lobbed the flask back and sat down, wincing slightly at the pain in her leg.

Patch caught the flask and returned his attention to her. “Mind if I ask how you acquired that burn?”

Looking down at her left leg, Zoey noticed the ‘burn’ appeared to have doubled in size. It certainly felt more painful. The deep cut from the snare might have infected the area, but she suspected magic was also involved. In her few encounters with those a necromantic aspect, she’d seen stranger things.

“It’s nothing,” Zoey replied, refusing to show any further sign of weakness.

Patch opened the flask and drank briefly before speaking again. “You should get some sleep. They will not be able to locate us for a while.”

I can’t trust him.

But she felt utterly drained and even a little feverish. Sleep beckoned and resisting its embrace would not be possible for much longer.

Gathering the leaves into a makeshift pillow, she lay down on her side. “If you come near me, I’ll kill you.”

She observed a tired smile form on his face before closing her eyes.

I can rest a bit. If he comes near me I’ll know. I’ll wake up.

She didn’t.

***

The ember moved even faster this time. Zoey dodged several leaping attacks but the beast managed to clamp down hard on her leg.

She wailed in agony as the flames crawled up her body.

And then, the dog released her leg and retreated, seemingly against its will. With each step backwards, the ember’s eyes (if they could be called that) intensified with hatred and frustration. Yet it kept receding into the distance until it could no longer be seen.

The scene shifted and she looked around. She was twelve again, eating dinner with her family. Her mother, Celest, served baked rigatoni with green beans. Dan, her father, listened to her younger brother talk about his day at school. Winston attended fifth grade at Parkwood Elementary.

Working as an interstate truck driver, her father rarely attended meals. However he showed them great love in the time he spent at home. Celest wrote poetry and novels, in addition to being a mother of two children. They’d been married for fourteen years, raising the family in Columbus Ohio.

As her mother sat down, tears of blood appeared in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Celest seemed not to notice and asked Zoey a question.

What is it Mom, I can’t hear you.

Dan turned pale and started to decay rapidly, even as he chuckled at Winston’s story. The air grew heavy and Zoey struggled to breathe. Despair filled her as she watched her family rot. 

Winston turned to her with vacant eyes, “Help us Zoey, we’re d -” The lower half of his jaw fell into his rigatoni.

Zoey screamed again.

***

Zoey jolted awake, hyperventilating with tears streaming down her face. She wiped her cheek and examined her hand to ensure there was no blood.

It was only a dream.

Regaining control over her emotions, Zoey turned over toward the light peeking through her window. As the leaves crunched under her weight, she bolted upright. Disoriented, she realized this was not her childhood room at home.

Yesterday’s events flooded back into her mind. Sunlight filtered through the ‘window’ of brush that masked the cave’s entrance. Patch slept at the far end of the cave.

I must not have screamed aloud. That’s good I need to escape before he awakes.

Taking inventory, she found the Bloodflower secure in the left pocket of her pants. That is when she noticed her leg.

Impossible.

The pain - it was gone. No burn, no cut. She couldn’t even identify a red mark on her leg. Slightly discolored flesh reminiscent of a recently healed wound offered the only hint of prior injury. Disbelieving she ran her hands along her calf, from knee to ankle. It felt fine, great even.

She stood (as much as was possible in the tight quarters) and made her way toward the exit. Leaves crunching under her feet, she looked down to ensure Patch still slept. He didn’t stir. In fact, now that she was observing him more closely, his face appeared to be covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His breathing, though quiet, seemed erratic.

And then she noticed it. A reddish area, which hadn’t been present yesterday, crept up the side of his neck.

That looks just like the wound on my leg, or at least that used to be -

Enlightenment hit her. Either she was contagious or Patch had done something to her in the night. She wasn’t sure if she should feel angry, violated, or...or what? Was he a deviant? Zoey had seen stranger things. Perhaps they called him ‘Patch’ for a reason. It didn’t matter anymore, she had to get out of here.

But it did matter... “Help us Zoey.”

Her brother’s words collided with her conscience. She couldn’t deal with this right now. What could she do anyway? She had no medicine and more importantly, no clue as to what exactly afflicted him. The Harvesters would arrive soon and they’d help him, a fellow clan member. They’d surely kill her so the choice was simple.

But he betrayed them to save me. They’ll kill him.

“Shit.”

She’d felt guilt before and she wasn’t about to be in someone’s debt again. Kneeling down beside Patch, she shook him.

He didn’t move.

She shook him harder. “Patch, wake up! You can’t stay here, they’ll find you.”

Patch opened his eyes this time, blinked a few times. A weary smile sneaked across his face before a fit of coughing interrupted it. “Sorry Zoey, looks like I overslept.” Patch struggled to sit up. More coughing. “Listen, you need to go, Howitzer — er my clan — will arrive here shortly and I will not be able to help you like last time.”

“Ok.” She got up. “Are you going to be ok?”

Somewhat surprised at the question, Patch hesitated. Then that boyish grin again. “Yeh I’ll be fine. I heal faster than most, just need a bit more rest. Now get out of here.” 

He’s lying.