Aftermath of the Reckoning

Chapter 8

Shadows lengthened as darkness enveloped the forest in its somber embrace. An acoustic cacophony of chirping and trilling vibrated the atmosphere as crickets and other crepuscular natives composed their nightly symphony.

Reclining against the moss and root covered cave wall, Zoey stared listlessly into the ebon shroud of twilight as she battled weariness. Hours had passed since Ice’s departure. Certainly they would have returned by now if revenge still ranked high on their list of priorities. Or perhaps they were just waiting for the right opportunity.

She could scarcely perceive the form of Patch as he lay on his side facing toward her, but she could hear his erratic breathing, occasionally interspersed with bouts of snoring. She managed to clean the blood off his face earlier, ripping a piece from her already torn pants to use as a rag. The head trauma appeared to originate in the back of his skull as his face showed no signs of injury.

We have to leave this cave tomorrow, it isn’t safe here.

Self-consciously, she found it odd to be thinking in terms of we when she barely knew this man. Then again, she barely knew anyone in this world, not really.

Most saw her as a selfish individual, consumed by a relentless desire for money. Merchants such as Pennyworth derived comfort from such a perception. They understood greed, for it was quantifiable, predictable, and offered a degree of control over one’s employees.

Loftier ideals such as friendship, generosity and love rarely intersected with Zoey’s life. Trusting another individual meant exposing facets of your true self. It meant giving the other person power to deceive you, thereby planting seeds of anguish, suffering and sadness in your heart. Such seeds — planted there long ago — flourished in Zoey’s heart; suspicion clouded her world view and protected her from that which she didn’t know but rather felt in the intentions of others.

Zoey could control this behavior no more than she could change the color of her eyes. She wore skepticism like a second skin, interwoven with her flesh, melding with her soul.

But something was different with Patch. She couldn’t explain it, but he felt different. Her mental alarms rested silently in his presence. Even beyond that, she felt relaxed around him, a feeling so foreign to her that she couldn’t identify the change until now.

The feeling scared her more than the necromancer, more than the Harvesters, more than many of the other dangers she faced in recent times. Yet it also excited her, subconsciously, curiosity prevailing against the foreboding winds of mistrust.

As these thoughts drifted through her mind, eventually heavy eyelids fell shut and her subconscious called out, beckoning her to visit its murky abode. Nightmares did not pay a visit to her that night, a rare occurrence indeed.

***

A mild discomfort in her neck coupled with the blaze of dawn penetrating her eyelids conspired to evict Zoey from her protracted slumber. The bouquet of wet leaves and mildew greeted her as she inhaled the morning air deep into her lungs. Her bones popped as she stretched thoroughly, somewhat astonished at how long she’d managed to sleep.

A growl from her stomach briefly interrupted the sound of Patch’s peaceful breathing.

Going to need to find food soon.

Crawling to Patch’s side, she shook him gently, calling his name a few times. Eventually his pupils peeked from behind squinting eyes and attempted to focus, as his trancelike countenance yielded to a look of perplexity.

“Patch, are you alright?” Zoey failed to mask the concern in her voice. “You’ve been asleep —”

“Where am I?” he rasped, blinking his eyes several times. “Who are you?”

“I’m Zoey, we met yesterday, don’t you remember?” She picked up the flask and offered it to him. “Here, drink some water.”

Instead he rubbed his eyes and squinted. “Zoey...yes, I remember. I can’t see you, everything is blurry.”

Zoey’s heart sank as she spoke in a shaky voice, “Patch...your head...you were badly injured.”

“Well, that might explain this headache I got goin’.” And for the first time that morning, a smile crept across his face. He rubbed the back of his head gingerly and mumbled almost to himself, “Guess Ice finally let me heal him.”

A rush of relief bombarded Zoey as his smile once again captivated her attention. That simple facial gesture unlocked floodgates of worry that left her body in torrents, as she struggled to suppress an uncharacteristic urge to cry. Temporarily startled by her own emotional instability, she almost didn’t notice Patch reaching in her general direction.

“You still have that flask?” Patch asked, his bloodshot eyes peering through her rather than at her.

Regathering her composure, Zoey placed the flask in his outstretched hand. “Here, please drink it all.”

He opened the container and drank deeply, emptying what little remained. “Thank you, I needed that.”

“It was your water,” Zoey explained. “I’m sorry, there would be more but I got thirsty last night and —”

Patch chuckled. “It’s alright, do you have any water purification tablets?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because there is a stream just a few minutes east of here. Take this flask and refill it there before heading home.”

“Patch, you’re coming with me,” Zoey said resolutely.

“No, I’ll only slow you down, I’ll be fine if I just rest here another day — ”

“Patch! I don’t care how fast you heal. At the moment, you’re practically blind. You have no food, no water. And who knows when this Howitzer asshole will return.”

“Zoey, trust me —  ”

“No! I do trust you. That’s the problem. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who helped me with no strings attached. I sure as hell am not going to leave you here to die and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Patch laughed, “Ok ok!” And then more thoughtfully, “so what are you suggesting? Where do we go?”

“You’re coming with me to the True Sight tribal grounds. I have some business to finish there. Hopefully you’ll be healed by the time we arrive. If not, I know a good doctor who can help.”

Patch seemed to consider this for a while and then half smiled in resignation. “Well Zoey, I’m afraid you’ll find I’m not much of a travel companion. I usually journey alone.”

Though she was sure he couldn’t see it, Zoey returned his smile with one of her own. “Same here, but I think I’ll survive.”