4. Small World (Patreon)

Dust. Rocks. Pebbles. More dust. Boulders. Rocks. Hills. Dust.

Sun.

I lifted my bandana over my nose and squinted over the hills. “Fucking desert.”

Grim wrinkled his nose in silent solidarity, pulling the brim of his hat lower. A gust of wind tugged at both our hats, threatening to pluck his away.

“Use the strap already,” I advised him.

“It looks dumb,” he replied.

“Holding onto your hat looks pretty dumb, too.”

He nodded. “You aren’t using your strap.”

Proud, I propped one hand on my hips and pointed to the bronze band around my hat, ends curled up in the front in a low-key decorative twist. “That’s because the brilliant me uses a weighted hatband instead! I bet you thought this thing was only for decoration?”

Grim sighed. “Right…”

“Not at all! Decorative and functional, the perfect combination. Ha, and to think, someone like me beat out a trendy ladies’ man like you! Why don’t you hop on my trend, huh, Grim?”

He frowned. “Never say that again.”

I laughed and spun around. “What, can’t handle—”

A sudden burst of wind snatched the brim of my hat and whipped it off my head.

Grim pointed and laughed, all but falling over. Mockingly, he repeated, “Use the strap, use the strap!”

Dancing around on the wind, my hat showed no intention of coming back down. Instead, it floated and fluttered, high overhead.

Unease boiled in my gut. I watched it, hands curling into fists, nails biting my palms. My core shuddered in my chest. Mana twisted inside, threatening to escape. I stared up at the hat. Come back down. Please come back down.

Ignorant of my desperate pleas, it refused.

Glaring up at my hat, I spun my core into action. Heat flared down my legs. I leaped into the air, snatched the hat, and slammed it back on my head before I landed again, legs bending slightly with the force of it.

“Waste of mana, right there. What, you dish it out, but can’t take it?” Grim asked.

I scowled at him, drawing the strap around my chin. “Shut up.”

“And you’re wearing the strap? What happened to that decorative weighted hatband, or whatever?”

“Shut up.”

Grim chuckled again, still clutching tight to his hat. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“You still look dumb,” I bit back.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He rolled his eyes back.

“How old are we?” I sighed.

Grim snorted. “Too damn old for this shit.”

I crested a hill and abruptly drew to a halt, holding a hand out. Grim walked into it, ‘accidentally’ putting his chest into my palm. “What is it?”

I looked at him, squinted in mild disgust, then dropped my hand to point below us.

A pillar of white-clothed people snaked between the hills. Dressed in flowing white, they were covered from head to toe, even their faces masked with a free-hanging sheet of white. Despite the ever-present sand, their robes remained stark white. Black belts gathered the robes at the waist, and loose black trousers peeked from under the cotton shrouds. Four corners, in black, were double-etched onto the front of their masks, one set nested inside the other, forming a square whose lines didn’t meet. Each one carried a heavy pack, laden with gear, water, and food. Several carried weapons, most of them chi-tech, cores glittering under the vicious sun.

“Think they’re the Box people?” I whispered to Grim.

“Kitted out like that? They fit the part,” he confirmed at a whisper.

I wrinkled my nose. “Sure they’re a company? They look more like… I don’t know. A cult.”

Grim shrugged. “I only know what the spider told me. And I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the finer details.”

One of the white-cloaked figures paused. Shorter than the others, they carried no weapons, nor a pack. They turned, gazing up the hill directly at us.

Grim and I both hit the deck. A small cloud of dust rose up around us. I clasped a hand over my mouth, afraid to breathe, heart pumping.

A kid. It was only a kid. Twelve or so, but the look in his eyes. Emptiness. Nothing. A beyond-broken that I recognized all too well. A look I’d seen in my own eyes, once.

It can’t be. They’re gone. Destroyed.

Grim turned and peeked over the ridge. I yanked his flowy shirt back down over the edge. “What?” he demanded.

“Don’t be stupid!” I hissed, not sure why I was so afraid. It’s not them. Some freaky cult, that’s all. Plenty of cults in the world. Plenty of abused kids, too.

You can’t stop them all. Can’t save them all.

Grim grinned confidently. “Sit back and watch the master.”

I laid there another second, then rolled over and wriggled after him, more afraid to not watch Grim than to get caught by the cultists.

Laid out flat on the ridge, he narrowed his eyes. Grim stretched a hand out toward the convoy, licking his lips in intense focus. A faint thrum of heat and sound emanated from his shoulder, sound swallowed up by the wind roaring in our ears.

In the back of the convoy, the straggler’s pack wiggled. He shifted his shoulders, resettling it. The water jug on his pack rattled out and fell toward the rocky earth. Grim scooped his hand, and the water jug halted an inch above the ground, water sloshing quietly. A breath out. Grim dropped his hand, and the jug clattered quietly to the stone. We both held our breaths, staring at the straggler.

He shifted his pack again, rolling out his shoulders in evident satisfaction, and marched on after the others.

“The Water Thief strikes again,” Grim whispered, satisfied.

“The cartels are still on the lookout for the Water Thief, you know. I wouldn’t say that so loud,” I murmured back.

“What’s there to be ashamed of? I steal from the rich and give to the poor. Unlike a certain Mana Thief, who keeps it all to herself.” He shot a look at me, one eyebrow lifted.

“What’re you accusing me of? I give to the poor.”

He frowned at me.

I shrugged at him. “I’m poor. I give to me. That counts.”

“It does not count.”

We bickered quietly until the convoy wound around the corner and disappeared over the next hill. Only when they were well and truly gone did Grim rise and jog down the hill to fetch his prize. He undid the cap and sucked down a long slurp. “Nothing like free water.”

“It’s all free, if you find it out here,” I pointed out.

He gave me a look. “You’re drinking unpurified water? Are you nuts?”

“I didn’t say I was drinking it, I just said it was free.” I nodded at his newly-liberated jug. “Are you sure you want to drink cult water? What if they put some kind of mind-control drug in it?”

“Guess I’d better keep all this water to myself, then,” Grim teased.

“I’ll give it a few hours. See how my guinea pig does on it,” I replied.

“I got upgraded to guinea pig? How sweet of you.”

I twisted my lips and tapped my chin thoughtfully. “I dunno, rats are pretty bright.”

Grim shrugged, slinging the jug over his shoulder. He nodded after the vanished convoy. “How long do you figure we should give the Box Boys? Couple hours? Should we just head back to the Sunset?”

“At least long enough for you to come down from whatever the cult puts in their water,” I joked.

He rolled his eyes at me.

“Oh, actually, if we have some time… I have an errand out this way.”

He gestured for me to lead the way.

Hills rolled on. I glanced left and right, checking for landmarks as we hiked. It’s been a long time, but it should be this way. I don’t have the entire map memorized, but those coordinates… if I’m not wrong, they’re pointing me to…

Behind me, Grim breathed in. The reedy tones of a harmonica sounded over the quiet hills, reflecting off rocks and dirt.

I turned back and frowned at him.

He lifted his mouth off the harmonica. “Cultists deserve music too.” A breath, and back to playing.

I guess we aren’t anywhere illegal. Even if the cultists hear us, it’s not like they can get angry at us for wandering through the same godforsaken patch of desert. I shrugged and ignored him.

A minute or so later, I caught myself skipping along to the music. I clapped my hands to emphasize the high point and simultaneously turned over my shoulder. Warning in my voice, I narrowed my eyes. “Grim.”

“Be jolly and dance! It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t waste your mana on something worthless,” I muttered.

“Worthless? Hardly. You were wiggling your butt to it earlier.”

I rounded on Grim, already half-jumping.

“Joking, joking! Hey, c’mon. It’s not like I’ve never seen your butt wiggle before.” He shook his head and went back to playing his harmonica, but this time, I felt no urge to dance along.

“If I want to dance, I’ll dance. But I won’t be made to dance by anyone,” I said.

“But… but I like to make people dance.”

“Practice on someone who appreciates it,” I replied.

“You’re no fun.” He danced to his own playing, spinning and dipping around the rocks. His loose shirt flying, sandy hair flopping around, he looked silly more than anything. After a few bars, I relented and gave in, tapping my feet along to his playing, then bouncing. We spun, kicking up dirt in the desert, dancing around the shrubs and bushes, leaping the cacti.

I hummed along, then began to sing. “I knew a girl, she ‘twas a fine girl. Hair black as berries and skin pale as pearl.”

“We danced in New Eastend, we played in Ol’ El. My girl back home, I never would tell,” Grim replied. He played another bar and looked at me expectantly.

“Ah, that’s enough singing,” I said, waving him away. “We’re here.”

Grim snorted. He slid the harmonica into his pocket and stretched. “Surprised you knew the song. I don’t think I’ve heard it aloud in nearly thirty years.”

Fear prickled in my gut, but only for a second. “Huh? Must’ve heard it in the Sunset sometime, from one of the older chimera. Thirty years? Grim, how old are you? You don’t look a day over… twenty-two.”

“Thirty? I said thirteen. Your monkey ears get clogged with dust?” He made a face and stuck a finger in his ear, waggling it around.

“Thirteen? You been playing in bars since you were a kid, huh?”

“Only way to survive.” He nodded firmly.

We both stared at each other for a second.

I broke the silence. “Well, now that we’re both done bullshitting, stand back.”

“Huh?”

I tensed my arms. Golden fur broke out down their lengths.

“Roger!” Grim jumped back out of my way.

Bending my knees, I slotted my fingers under a bolder and heaved. It rolled to the side, revealing a metal hatch. Shaking my arms to banish the gold fur, I hauled the hatch open and peeked inside. Daylight slowly illuminated a small, empty room.

“If it was under the boulder, who the hell would be in there?” Grim asked, bending over to see in as well. “Actually, what the hell is this? How did you know it was here?”

I dropped the hatch, and it clanged shut. Pushing Cher’s strap back up my shoulder, I nodded at the hatch. “There’s other entrances, but only one exit. It’s a bolthole. And the last question’s a secret.”

Grim tipped his head. “So… what were you looking for? Or should I say… who?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“You… don’t know?”

“Nope.” I glanced at the boulder, but left it off to the side. It’s not like anyone else is going to come this way. I kicked dust and pebbles over the hatch in its place, until the hatch became the suggestion of a rectangular crack in the ground. “We’ll come back after.”

Both of us turned toward the Wilds. This close, the chain link cut across the horizon. The trees towered over the hills, deceptively close, yet too far to cast life-giving shade over us.

“Think we should head over?” Grim asked.

All at once, the storm clouds darkened, coloring the light to a bruised purple-yellow. Lightning split the heavens. Wind howled past us, blasting dust and pebbles into our faces. Both of us reached for our hats, regardless of straps. An unnatural, hideous screech rang out on the wind, loud enough to scream through the howling in our ears. I squinted against the blast, peering up above the trees.

Iridescent scales shimmering in the storm-light, rainbow-toned fins spread wide, Quetzalcoatl arced into the sky. He turned, breaching. Bright red blood stained his flank, visible even from this distance.

I bared my teeth in a vicious grin. “It’s showtime.”

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