“I told you not to kill him!” Greenblatt rushed to his bodyguards. Krav was still fighting, even with an axe head buried in his neck. It was a blow that would’ve killed anyone else, but he watched as trembling fingers reached for the blade and limply gripped it. He was trying to tear it out of himself, but for what? It would only speed up his own demise. He was apart of a spirit guide’s retinue, and Greenblatt had seen how intoxicants could push a person to fight long after the body dies. It was possible this boy was so high he didn’t realize he was already dead.
Behind the goggles, his eyes darted between his guards. They were frozen in place, waiting for a command. He knew chastising them was a waste of words. The two of them operated on the same mental wavelength as trained dogs, but he wanted to scream at them until his lungs collapsed. It was only one more death, one more waste of life among the stacks of dead, but it would be blood on his hands, and that wasn't good for his karma. There was still hope, though. There was still the girl.
“Raider girl! You have some way of healing him, don’t you?” he went back to their hiding spot. He had found her floating in the water, giggling with intoxicated madness. After she had sobered up, she explained that she was trying to find medicine for a boy but had gotten distracted when she found a stash of laughing leaf on one of the dead. He had decided to help her, if only to provide for his dwindling karma. The more he helped others, the closer he got to his own goal, he believed.
They had found Krav nearly half an hour ago. He was sitting motionless in a circle of ash. When they took the first steps to make contact, the boy smashed his own head into something. It was decided then that he was not in the right state of mind, and perhaps would react violently to their approach. Greenblatt thought for sure his plan of subduing the boy would be more than effective. He would use his bodyguards. 002 would distract the boy, 001 would disarm and apprehend him. Once he was calm, they could administer help. He hadn’t counted on this being the same boy he had met on the canyon’s cliff, but once he had recognized him, he realized the flaw in his plan. Krav was no ordinary boy. If it had been the other one, Lenny, perhaps his plan would have worked without error. But this kid was almost an animal.
“Raider girl!”
She still had a lingering high. She was laughing and pointing at the scuffle like it was a clown show, and the dying boy had just been slapped in the face with a pie. She was naked when they found her in the river, her paint and feathers floating far downstream. After dragging her out and dressing her in a beggar's robes, he found a satchel on the shore that belonged to her. It was full of medical concoctions and herbal remedies. Greenblatt wasn’t a chemist, he had no idea what kind of medicines could be used in this moment, but she seemed like she did.
He smacked her across the face, then caught her shoulders. “Listen to me! He is going to die. I need you to administer whatever you can to stop the bleeding.”
Her eyes rolled to meet his, the smile on her face infuriatingly ignorant. “You’re killing my high.”
“And you’re killing him!” he pointed at Krav, who was turning pale. The boy’s eyes were no longer on the blade. They were drooping low, his eyelids shutting like rolling doors in slow motion. He was losing consciousness. Greenblatt snatched at the girl’s satchel and began to dig. He held up a small bottle inches from her face. A white powder shifted inside. “Will this do?”
She erupted in laughter. “That’s ammonium nitrate. It makes things go boom! You want him to explode?”
He tossed it aside, and for once she sobered up. Her eyes focused on the vial as it sailed through the air. Her smile dropped and she reached to catch it. “Hey! I need that!”
“This!” he held a bottle of clear liquid. He was sure it was water, but it burned hot in his palm.
“That’s oil of vitriol. It’ll burn him up from the inside out.”
Greenblatt grabbed her by the neck and lifted her from the floor. This couldn’t be good for his karma. He lifted his goggles and met her gaze for the first time. She looked shocked to see someone wasting. “Then tell me which one it is!”
He dropped her and she immediately went digging through her bag. Bags of powder, vials of liquid, and a few bushy herbs went flying into the sand. She handed Greenblatt a container of green dust. He shook it, and it twisted in its container like an emerald snowstorm.
“T-that’s for the bleeding,” she said. She was sober now, at least shocked into something akin to sobriety. Digging in her bag again, she found what she had originally set out to find. The glass it was in wasn’t like the others, and Greenblatt was amazed she could find something like that at all. It must be true, you really could find anything in Agua Fria. The label on the small container was pristine, hardly touched by the apocalyptic years spent beneath the twin suns. Most of the words he couldn’t understand, they were written by wisemen from an era long gone, but he could make out one. It was a miracle intoxicant that had been attempted to be recreated by alchemists the world over. Morphine. The girl handed it to him, still shaking as if she didn’t know the treasure she carried with her. “This is for the pain.”
Greenblatt’s eyes looked between her and the medicines. She must have been rather intelligent for a drug addled raider. He didn’t have time to ask her the myriad of questions racing through his head. He apologized, took the drugs she offered, and ran for the boy.
Krav woke up hours later. His breath hitched a bit when he tried to suck in the air around him, and his throat felt like he had slept all night with his mouth open. His tongue felt like a lizard after sunbathing, and he licked his dry lips without wetting them. As he peeled open his eyes, he was surprised to find himself staring up at the stars, no longer deep within the canyon that protected Agua Fria.
Leather straps tied him down to a sled. He mustered a bit of strength, rocking the sled a half inch to one side, then another half to the other. That was all he had in him. He rested his head back onto the wood beneath him and watched the stars. Judging by the direction of the glow, they were heading east. Wherever to, he had no idea. After the events of the day, perhaps even days prior, he was ready to curl up into a ball and sleep the rest of his life away. As he lay, remembering the family he had lost, a flood of emotions stormed in him. He decided against giving up.
A dry screech like a dehydrated bird was all he could muster to call out to his captors. They were raiders, certainly. He tried to remember how he was subdued, tried to recall the fight. They couldn’t have taken him by surprise. He must have fought to the very end, them only able to capture him after half their men decimated by his strength. Yes, he thought, they were most likely taking him to be inducted into their clan, maybe even to be made their warlord in honor of his combat prowess. He screeched again, more purposefully this time. It was a challenge now, and if he could only find his trusty stick, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Whatever was pulling him slowed to a halt. He could hear footsteps over the cool winds of the valley, voices beyond that. He recognized them as noises he had heard before but couldn’t place their exact source. Maybe these were the survivors of his outburst. They didn’t bring any memories of bloodshed to him, however.
He was approached by a tall, lanky figure covered in bandages. As soon as he saw the poleaxe, he remembered. It was that scab head Greenblatt and his bodyguards. Why would they have a problem with him?
The bodyguard bent low and tried to check Krav’s pulse with two fingers below his jaw. The boy snapped at him, clamping his jaws over bandaged knuckles. They stared at each other, neither reacting to the current situation. Greenblatt’s bodyguard hid any pain Krav may have caused behind a mask. The boy chewed, rocking his aching jaw back and forth like he was a predator trying to loosen a chunk of loin from its kill. The bodyguard didn’t move. Maybe Krav had developed some sort of paralyzing venom. That had to be it.
The second bodyguard flanked Krav’s opposite side. He put his poleaxe down and fish-hooked the boy’s cheek. Pain erupted in his face, and he released the first guard. Now the whole group was coming to see what the commotion was. Soon, he found himself surrounded by familiar faces.
“So it really was morphine? I thought for sure that might have killed him.”
“The bottle said morphine. Can’t you read, stupid?”
Greenblatt and the girl looked like they had become unwilling partners, both invested in the life of the boy. They bickered over him as Greenblatt’s bodyguards scanned the shifting dunes. Krav rocked back and forth, still trying to free himself of the restraints. Greenblatt was the first to notice.
“Krav?” He said, stooping low. “If you relax, I’ll get you out of there. I just need to know you won’t go sprinting off into the desert.”
Krav tried to speak, but the words caught in his tightened throat, and all he could do was cough them out. He did as Greenblatt said.
“Good! There’re some things we need to get caught up on, and if you’d join me for a cup of tea, I can- Hey!”
As soon as the straps were off, Krav knocked them away and pushed past Greenblatt. His body felt like it hadn’t moved in days, coming to life like a machine left to rust. His joints ached and his legs were like worms. He was stumbling at first, clawing at the sand for purchase, then he was jogging through the sand. Back toward the twin suns. Back toward Agua Fria.
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Something shifted in the sands just ahead of him. A circle of land about six feet in diameter was repositioning itself. Krav didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Behind him, he could hear the charging footsteps of his captors. Krav noticed the glow of two eyes staring up at him, then it sprang up from beneath the dunes.
The Valley of the Twin Suns had many dangers, but the megafaunas of the land were rare. The beast that emerged was a large, flat creature, a nocturnal ambush predator. It had the speed of a striking snake, rearing back and pistoling its head towards the boy. Unarmed, Krav fell to the floor and readied to defend himself with a kick to its massive head.
He didn’t have to fight back. Greenblatt’s bodyguards rushed it down with their poleaxes aimed for its underbelly. One stabbed at the beast, holding it upright and away from the boy. There was no cry of pain, but it snapped its jaws in protest before the second guard speared into its underside.
Greenblatt came and snatched the boy by his shoulders. Krav watched as the bodyguards meticulously pushed the creature up until they flipped it onto its back. Thousands of tiny legs kicked and whipped in protest. It was trying to roll itself back upright, but the guards slammed their weapons into its soft belly until the legs gave one finally kick, stretched themselves up into the air, then went limp.
“They hunt by detecting tremors in the sand. Do you know how hard it was to sidestep that thing with five people and a pack beast?” Greenblatt said. He was lifting Krav to his feet. The boy stared at the creature, remembering stories Rufus had told of carpet beasts. They had never encountered one, perhaps due almost entirely to the master’s caution of never moving at night. He had never fully believed that they were capable of swallowing up portions of caravans, but after tonight, he could be convinced.
“001 prepare the tent. 002 begin dressing the beast,” Greenblatt commanded. The first bodyguard was mid-swing with his weapon when he halted abruptly and changed task. The second did the same, quickly switching out his poleaxe for a long knife and digging it into the creature. The lovingly named 002 carved out steaming organs and cautiously buried the unused pieces of the creature so as not to attract any other predators. Krav watched the dead thing with fascination. It was like watching a motor being taken apart by an expert mechanic, only, he hoped at least, he would be able to eat what was being deconstructed. He suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten since before they got into Agua Fria an eternity ago.
Greenblatt must have heard the churn of his empty stomach. He slapped the boy on his back and pointed at the creature. “If there was any victory in this, its that none of us will go hungry. Will you help with the tent?”
Krav, Greenblatt, and 001 all assembled the tent while the raider girl watched. A few times, Krav tossed sand at her to attempt to remind her that they could use some help, but she would only respond in mocking gestures and taunts. She was on top of Greenblatt’s animal, sitting crisscross and digging for something in her bag. The merchant told the boy to ignore her, and for the most part he did. He put his attention towards putting up the canvas walls of their tent and scratching at the dried blood on his neck. But every now and then, he’d catch the girl humming to herself, and it would remind him that they were doing all the heavy lifting. It would irritate him to the point where he was pulled from his work to throw the closest object at her, his way of asking for help since his wounded throat still prevented him from speaking.
With the tent up and the creature carved into its usable parts, Greenblatt crafted a fire within the canvas walls. His bodyguards stood outside the tent, their poleaxes crossed like the palace guards of ancient earth. Greenblatt had a skillet over the coals that was filled with the carpet beast’s legs. He rolled them every so often to get an even cook, and soon the tent was beginning to fill with the mouthwatering smell of fresh meat. Krav was close to the fire, reinvigorating his injured body with its heat and waiting as patiently as he could for a bite of the strange new food. He had never seen a carpet beast until tonight, and already he was looking forward to the next time he’d get the chance to fight one. If it tasted as good as it smelled, he’d hunt them to extinction just to gorge himself.
The raider girl had produced a concoction from the contents of her bag. She had seeped some leafy plant in water that had boiled near Greenblatt’s cooking. After removing the plant, she drizzled a generous helping of a viscous liquid into the brewed tea. Krav paid less attention to it than the cooking meat, but every once in a while he’d dart a look towards it and wonder just what the hell she was doing. When she was done, she surprised him by offering it to him.
“Drink,” she said.
Krav tried to refuse it. He wanted to tell her to take her plant drink and pour it out on the sand, but all that came out was a protesting squeak that caught in his larynx and sent him into a sputtering coughing fit. As he hacked up his lungs, she caught him by the mouth and forced it down his throat. She was strong for a girl. Perhaps a byproduct of living a life that demanded so much violence.
It tasted like salty gelatin. The liquid was smooth and thick, and as it crawled its way down his throat, Krav tried to push the girl off of him. They scuffled until she overpowered him, pinning him to the floor and forcing the rest of the drink down. He tried to spit it back up at her, but she cupped a palm over his lips and tilted his head back until she saw his neck flex as he swallowed the last of it. She rolled back to her bag, back to digging.
“What the hell was that for!” Krav demanded. He wiped his lips free of the taste of her skin and spat into the sand.
“It worked, didn’t it?” She said from deep within the satchel.
He was about to tell her no, but realized it would be a lie. The drink had done something to his throat. It felt like a newly lubricated machine. Where his injury had caused his vocal chords to grind together, the girl’s drink had loosened them, brought them back into harmony. He rubbed his neck and felt the sutures in one side of it. They felt like spiny insects that were stuck in his skin, and he scratched at them.
“Don’t do that, you’ll pull them out,” Greenblatt said. He pulled the legs from the fire and set the skillet in the sand. “Let these cool for a sec. I found you with this.”
The merchant had been sitting next to a bundle of cloth that was wadded up into a ball. He tossed it to Krav. As soon as it landed in his hands, he knew what it was. He didn’t bother opening it. It gave him some closure, and the desire to return to Agua Fria had lessened with the weight of Rufus’s remains off his shoulders. Unconsciously, he hugged it to his chest.
“That’s not who I think it is, is it?” Greenblatt asked. His blackened eyes were sympathetic above the leather mask.
“It’s Rufus. Jackmaw got to him before I did.”
“King of the world!” the raider girl giggled. She had something familiar to Krav in her hand. They were slivers of mock root, chopped thin to burn easier. “Want to get high in his honor?”
The answer wasn’t no, but it wasn’t exactly yes either. A night spent getting high and filling his stomach sounded perfect, but these weren’t the people he wanted to be with while he did it. He had barely shared a full conversation with Greenblatt, and the girl was a complete stranger. “Do you always get high with people you don’t know?”
“Good point,” Greenblatt said. “Introductions first, then we feast.”
The two of them were staring at the girl. She flicked her eyes between them like a cornered animal. “You first.”
“Krav. Now go.”
“And you?” She was looking at Greenblatt, staring not into his eyes, but at the dark growth around them. “What’s your name, waster?”
Greenblatt shifted in his position on the floor. First, he looked at the boy. “Krav, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’m not a merchant. My name is Albert Ibram Ao Dominus-Greenblatt. I am the warlord of the Black Thumb Clan, master of Kiva Noon. I enjoy anonymity in my travels, and as such, I decided to deceive you and your retinue. I apologize.”
“I don’t really care,” Krav said. Albert Whatsisface was Greenblatt. He already knew that. It was the girl that made him uncomfortable. Since their departure, she had lost her raider garb, molting the feathers and warpaint for simpler clothing more common among the wasteland. She wore brown canvas robes stained with patches of dark grey. The girl had ripped the garments at the thigh for whatever psychotic reason only she knew. More sunburns for her, Krav thought. Still, even with the change of clothes, she looked like a raider. Her wildly cut hair, sunken eyes, and crooked smile painted her as a degenerate raider that no robes could cover up.
Her smile, however, had grown at the introduction of Greenblatt’s true name. She was trying to keep herself upright as she squealed and laughed. “I can’t wait to get back to the clan! I’ve got a new member of the family and a warlord in tow. Jackmaw will reward me for sure!”
“You were about to tell us your name?”
She cocked an eyebrow at Greenblatt, then stood to her feet. Above the fire, she raised her arms and kicked her legs like a dancer. “I am the great Macaw, grand apothecary of the Gordo clan! But you can call me Mac.”
“I see. Is this an enviable position, grand apothecary?” Greenblatt asked. He grabbed one of the legs and tossed it to Krav. The boy caught it in one hand, then quickly tossed it to the other when it burned his palm.
“Enviable? People would kill to take my spot! Trust me, grand apothecary is a big deal. I get first dibs on any intoxicants we come across! Who wouldn’t appreciate that?” She opened her mouth as Greenblatt tossed her one of the carpet beast’s legs and she caught it between her teeth with a crunch.
Krav watched her chew like an animal. It dawned on him that she was a voracious eater, which meant if he wasn’t quick there wouldn’t be anything left for him. He took a bite out of the leg. Its cooked carapace crunched and flaked in his mouth, but the meat within was tender and hot. Steam plumed around his lips as he smacked and took another bite. He had never tasted anything quite like it, and he decided there that carpet beast would be his new favorite quarry out in the wastes. No more digging up roots and hunting lizards. It would only be carpet beast legs for him.
“Interesting,” Greenblatt said. “You don’t think someone has already moved in to replace you? That perhaps your position is no longer available?"
“If that’s the case, I just kill them when I get back. That’s how you do it in the Gordo clan. How do you do it in your clan, Albert Ibram Ao Dominus-Greenblatt?”
Krav was surprised she could remember all that.
“I don’t know anymore. My travels have taken me far away from Kiva Noon, and I placed someone trusted in charge of the town. For all I know, she could have changed our customs and hierarchies.”
“Oh, I'd put money on it.”
Greenblatt narrowed his eyes at her. Something about the response troubled him. Krav felt it too. She was more intelligent than she appeared behind her madness. Almost as if she felt the tension in the tent, she pointed toward the flap, where the glint of the bodyguards’ weapons could be seen gleaming with the firelight. “What about your goons? Who are they?”
The blackened eyes stayed on her for another moment before softening and looking out the tent. “I have no idea who those two are.”
“You like travelling with strangers, huh?” Krav asked. He reached over the fire and grabbed another leg.
“They’re nameless for a reason. In the Black Thumb clan, we specialize in human augmentation. Most of the cybernetics you’ll find in the valley originate from Kiva Noon. Those two were some of the town's most wanted criminals at one point. As is the law of the town, they were lobotomized and turned into laborers. I reprogrammed them to be bodyguards before I left for my travels.”
Krav and Mac stared at him, now realizing they weren’t the strangest people in the tent. A raider apothecary, a bodyguard with a dead master, and a warlord turned mad scientist. The smoke in the air could be cut with the razor-wire tension between them. Greenblatt cleared his throat and said, “Weren’t we going to get high?”
