Aftermath of the Reckoning

Chapter 10

Patch stumbled on a protruding root and nearly pulled Zoey down in an effort to maintain his balance. Righting himself, he apologized, “Sorry about that Zoey.”

Zoey responded, “You’re fine. Listen, the sun is setting and I think this is a good place for us to stop for the night.”

He released Zoey’s hand and leaned against a tree that brushed his arm. “I like the sound of that.”

Rarely had Patch felt so helpless. Being deprived of his vision, he almost started feeling like a different person. Zoey did her best to help guide him over the terrain, but he still managed to bump into nearly every obstacle in their path.

They talked about the Bloodflower during the day and how Zoey was already late in delivering it. He couldn’t help but view himself as a part of the problem, though he tried to hide his despair. She didn’t seem to see it that way and never complained about his stumbling.

In fact, just the opposite, Zoey appeared to be far more talkative and lively than the girl he remembered rescuing. During the walk, she spoke about everything ranging from her childhood to Halcyon, the mare she visited at every opportunity. He sensed there were several darker parts of her life that she omitted, but he wasn’t the type of person to pry.

Cheerfully, Zoey announced, “It may not feel like it, but we’ve walked over fourteen miles today. I know where we are. We should arrive by tomorrow night at this rate.”

“Won’t that make you three days late? Are you sure Pennyworth will still honor the trade?”

Zoey laughed. “He may not. But I have a feeling this red marble means a lot to him. We’ll see. Worst case, I can certainly trade it for some meat or fish and show you what a real meal tastes like. Something better than these awful persimmons.”

At this, Patch honestly laughed. Though neither openly griped about the hunger alleviating fruit in the area, apparently they’d both been thinking the same thing. “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

Zoey smiled. “No, you’re not. Though we’ll likely eat them again tonight, unless I find something tastier.”

“Zoey, I’m sorry for making you go through all this — “

“Patch, you saved my life back there. This is the least I can do.” Zoey paused briefly. “And...I actually enjoy your company. So if anything, you’re doing me a favor by traveling with me.”

Patch looked in the direction of her voice. “I’ve enjoyed listening to your stories.”

“Tomorrow I want to hear all about your life. I still know so little about you, even though I feel on some level that I know you quite well.” Zoey picked up the bow and a small empty burlap sack. “For now, just wait here while I go find some food. I should be gone no longer than an hour. Try to get some rest.”

“Thank you, Zoey, and please be careful. Don’t go far and cry out if you’re in trouble.”

“The same goes for you.”

As Zoey departed, Patch closed his eyes and visualized his brain. He could see the damaged area and focused his full attention on repairing it. His self healing ability always operated passively, however if he could expedite the healing in any way, he had to try. Something told him he would need his sight back tomorrow, and maybe sooner.

***

Wendell dashed through the forest barefoot, effortlessly sidestepping trees and other large obstacles without reducing his pace. Beaming with joy, he did not register the rocks and sticks that tore into his flesh as he bounded across the rough terrain.

Master has given command.

Wheeler, a small fraction of Wendell’s mind that still remembered his life prior to the Reckoning, understood that what he did made no rational sense. He felt like a passenger on a freight train destined for destruction, both of self and of any hapless bystanders who so happened to venture into its path. Except Wheeler had no option to turn away from the window, no option but to view the horrendous actions accredited to his alter ego.

This mental doppleganger, Wendell, maintained blissful ignorance of Wheeler’s presence. In fact, Wendell disregarded all types of distractions, focusing solely on the mandates of his current master, Mayor Johansen.

Wendell perceived destiny as entirely black and white. To disobey his master meant unspeakable anguish, while obedience offered pure ecstasy. The faster he ran, the greater pleasure he felt coursing through his body like adrenaline.

His body could only loosely be described as human. Lacking skin, layers of connective tissue, blood vessels, muscle and even some bone lay exposed directly to the elements, save for a dark brown cloak covering most of his frame. Once, Wheeler caught a glimpse of his visage in a mirror, the image alone worth a lifetime of torture.

Fortunately, others only rarely observed Wendell’s presence, even when standing in the middle of large crowds. Though Wheeler did not understand how it was possible for a hunched six foot tall hooded man in a cloak to remain so inconspicuous, he counted that fact as one of the few blessings of his situation.

Perhaps not the only blessing. Perversely Wheeler found that with time, it became easier for him to vicariously share in the pleasure experienced by Wendell. This disturbed Wheeler more than anything, that soon he would be indistinguishable from his host. He hated himself for finding any enjoyment in Wendell’s conduct, yet without the power to control his physical form, acquiescence to Wendell’s desires more frequently felt like a lifeboat in an ocean of torment.

As for physical pain, Wendell never experienced it. Even sharp debris that pierced his feet as he ran seemed to have no lasting impact. His anatomy automatically ejected foreign matter, reforming like putty in seconds. Instead of slimy or slippery, his body felt dry like snakeskin; he never bled.

Wheeler discovered these attributes over time, however Wendell observed nothing of his own composition. Wendell saw only one thing: the will of his master. The Bloodflower radiated its brilliance before him, glowing like a pre-Reckoning city skyline in the distance at night.

Wendell flew within inches of a deer with white spotted ears. Seemingly oblivious to the distraction, the buck did not even pause its twilight feeding on various grasses and shoots.

Likewise, Wendell paid no attention to the animal, the insects, the birds, and even the hunters returning from their daily excursions. He could not, however, ignore the adjacent oak tree as it ruptured explosively, or the resulting blast wave that severed his left arm at the shoulder, or his skull cracking on a large rock as he impacted the ground head first.