Deserted (11 page)

“Elite
worms…” I mumbled to myself with a short laugh. How could something so
ridiculous actually feel plausible now? “Well there’s no going this way, boy.
Let’s find a way around.”

I looked
again for the shadow of a building I had seen earlier and with a stern hand on
my horse’s back, we trudged ourselves towards it.

On the
very precipice of the rift was a beautiful cathedral; my heart leapt at the
sight. Most of it was destroyed and pieces scattered around me yet it was a majestic
piece of work…the closest I had ever come to architectural perfection. I could
see it in my mind’s eye, standing tall in all its glory. Could this have been
created by one of the legendary artists of old?

           
I reached towards the ornate structure, cherishing its majesty beneath my
fingers. It was embedded deeply in the sand; I couldn’t tell if I was gazing at
its ruined rooftop or its doorstep. The top portion of the cathedral was
entirely gone and covered in hard sand, while large slabs of the building
jutted sporadically towards the sky. Large dunes oozed from every orifice in
the cathedral, although one window did have a small section of stained glass
still intact. It shone a ruby red through the twisting sands and shards could
still be made out in the rubble around it. As much as I longed to study it, I
knew I risked stepping on hidden glass in the sand if I was to approach it and
so I stayed back, admiring its beauty from afar.

           
I climbed the dunes before me and sat upon the decimated roof, gazing out
across the fissure for quite some time. I thought on Kay and my father,
somewhere out here in the raging winds. Did they once find this cathedral, too?
I wonder what they would have said…what they would have done. My father, if it
were possible, would have painted its image on a canvas. Kay, though…I think he
would have lovingly caressed the cathedral’s foundation, as fascinated by it as
I was myself. And then…he would sit and gaze across the wasteland; perhaps he
was once in this very spot?

           
I miss you, Kay. I wonder if you ever sat here and thought the same of me.

           
Things were finally looking up today.
Ponika
and I had
wandered on the edge of the earthen scar for a while until we found a path
around it and continued on. The sky was readying itself for nightfall by that
point and the wind had kicked up hard so I wrapped my bandana tightly around my
face, though it did nothing for my eyes as I strained to find a safe haven for
us. I almost completely missed the tents to my left that had flapped fiercely
in the windy onslaught. Of course they were deserted but thankfully their
supplies were not. There were two tents full of food and water and even
sleeping bags! I had never seen one in person before but had heard of them
through my reading; definitely more comfortable than the rocky floor of the
mine shaft from earlier. There was even a large tarp set up with wooden stakes
for
Ponika
, which made me wonder if whoever was here
before me had an animal of their own. Could animals not be quite as rare of a
commodity out here? It could explain the stacks of oats and grains they left
behind, although it still begs the question: why did they leave it behind? Just
who, exactly, had been here and what drove them out? I suddenly remembered the
small child from the train; could he have done this? Maybe this entire campsite
was prepared for someone like me…but it didn’t make any sense. Who were those
kids? Pirates, surely, but they didn’t seem as bloodthirsty as I had thought
them to be. Were there more than just Pirates out here?

           
Whatever the reason, I plan to rest here for the night, come what may. We’re
both well fed and watered up and should be for some time now; I’m pretty
overjoyed at our find tonight.
Ponika
is already out
cold but I’m having trouble finding the same rest. My mind has been running
with thoughts all day. I tried to forget the frightfulness of the worm and when
I pushed its memory from my mind I found that I would think upon that flower.
It was so beautiful…I wish I could still look at it, to hold it in my hand and
study it. Was the world really populated by them once? A country full of
flowers…I remember my dad seemed to think on them in fondness.

           
My father used to paint; it was something him and my mother often bonded over, though
I rarely saw her join in his work. He was in the basement one day, painting a
green field full of colourful flowers of varying shapes and sizes. I would
often watch him work when I was very young and I would always be in awe of it;
this time was no different. He was so absorbed in his painting that day that he
didn’t even notice me sitting on our storage boxes, my
legs
dangling
off the side as I watched every stroke of his paintbrush.

           
“It’s beautiful, daddy. What is it?”

           
His smock was covered in paint and a blue streak raced across his forehead.
“It’s called a flower field; maybe you’ll see one someday.”

           
“It’s real?” I had looked at it in shock then; I thought my dad made
make-believe pictures.

           
I remember him sighing then; he usually smiled at my excitement but not this
time. “It used to be real,” he had said eventually, “though I doubt it is
anymore. And soon enough, no one will even remember them.”

           
I was too young to understand then, but I think I do now; those flowers were
before my time…from before the Reckoning. Dad rarely talked about those days so
I don’t know what happened…no one does. All I know is that things were much
prettier back then. But, I
dunno
…looking out at the
wasteland around me, there’s a sort of gentle beauty in it all; a lonesome
peacefulness, I suppose. It’s hard to understand for someone living in town, I
think, but the more time out here the more I start to prefer it. If only I
could find a Provider of my own, though…

I was
starting to nod off while going over my journal entry but found something
rather interesting from the corner of my eye; a book…an actual book. Its
corners were sticking out underneath a small bag of supplies in a dark corner
of the tent and I immediately picked it up. Its condition is incredible, too;
it appears untouched by the ravages of time. It has a green cover made of some
kind of stringy fabric that moves when I touch it. There’s golden letters
imprinted on the surface but for the life of me I can’t figure out what they
say. Now, all of us kids learn the alphabet from our parents and English while
growing up, but this, however…these are unfamiliar words to me. Even the
letters don’t look quite right. Could it be…cursive? My dad often wrote things
quickly that resembled letters I knew and when I asked he said it was ‘cursive’
and that someday he would teach it to me, if I was interested. I was little,
though, and easily distracted so I quickly forgot all about it. These golden
words…they are similar, but messy.

Opening
the book, the first thing I notice is something written in red marker on the
first page. The entire page is almost covered in various symbols I have never
seen before and a language I’ve never heard of, although what looks to be a name
sits in the centre of it all.

“
Tsvetan
Krastanov
…” I whispered
the words to myself a few times, having never heard them before. I could only
assume it was a name by its position on a blackened line that dashed across the
page but I couldn’t be too sure; nothing seemed familiar in this book.

I
flipped through the next few pages and saw much of the same; red marker
scribbled everywhere atop a book that’s language appeared similar to my own…yet
slightly different.
‘
Sanitas
Mentis’
is
mentioned a few times but I’m unsure of what exactly it means. I assume this is
an educational textbook as the pictures are few and consist of images of the
body; a brain in particular. I know that much, at least, from the biology my
dad used to teach me. I’m going to continue to study it for a while and see
what I can learn and hopefully after that I can get a full night’s rest.
Regardless of what I find out, this has been a truly great find. A book in
perfect condition…could there be more out there?

*

           
I heard sounds at night again; something sniffing at the tent flaps. I assumed
it was
Ponika
and I called to him, urging him back to
sleep before I turned over and attempted to get back to sleep myself. I twisted
and turned in my sleeping bag, though, and eventually lay there, staring up
into the dark greens of the tent’s roof. My mind wandered as I tried to doze
off again, causing me to jolt awake time and time again. Feeling a little
aggravated at
Ponika
for waking me up to begin with,
I decided to get up and stretch when I noticed the large hoof mark in the sand
outside. It wasn’t
Ponika’s
; it looked big enough to
fit both my feet inside and then some. I listened for the sounds of any stray
animals but all I heard was my own horse’s occasional snore. I poked my head out
of the tent’s flaps and saw
Ponika
sleeping quite
peacefully on the small mat across from me; whatever came through here, it
apparently didn’t bother
Ponika
any. The tents were
still upright and our goods were still where I had left them. Whatever beast it
was, it either wasn’t hungry enough to bother us or it was an herbivore…though
how it could possibly survive in the wasteland like that is beyond me.
Unless…maybe there’s a source nearby?
A wellspring of
vegetation and life?
It obviously wasn’t hungry if it didn’t take
anything, and how else could it be surviving out here?

…could
Kay have been right? Not even just Kay…but the library itself? I remember
seeing a globe in the library and even an atlas that showed the world with
plentiful greens and water; hell, apparently most of the globe is water!
Somewhere around here must be the paradise I always dreamed of...

I
crawled out of my tent, my heart now racing in excitement. There was no sleep
for me tonight, not now. Smiling at my horse, I sat down and leant against him.
He grunted in response, but continued to sleep. He needed his rest; we could
look for the oasis in the morning. A smile kept creeping its way onto my face
as I thought about what could be nearby. It was supposed to be a dream; I
didn’t expect to ever find a land like that myself. Even with all of Kay’s
flights of fancy that I indulged in, I never truly believed it existed deep
down. I merely enjoyed the stories we told together and nothing more.

Making
myself comfortable at
Ponika’s
backside, I stretched
my legs out and stared up at the clear night sky, watching every twinkling star
as I tried to make out a constellation. The moon was particularly bright
tonight; the brightest I had seen it on my travels. It reminded me of Kay.
Hell, what didn’t these days? But tonight was familiar. We once talked on a
night just like this one.

The moon
had sunk low in the sky when Kay came up to join me on the vista back home; I
heard his aggravated sigh long before I saw him. He plopped down on the hard
sand beside me and casually stretched his legs as I glanced over at him.

“Rough day?”
I asked.

“Mom
keeps pestering me about that Anna girl. She won’t stop pushing the issue and
I’m getting pretty sick of it.” It wasn’t often that you heard Kay upset but
when you did, you knew it immediately; his words were sharply enunciated and
spat out with hatred.

“Still
playing matchmaker?” I had said it with surprise; I’ve been hearing about Anna
for a few years now. Kay had grumbled in response. “She really doesn’t listen
to you, does she?”

“Not at all.
Anna and I have nothing in common and I really
can’t stand being around her anyway; her conversations are very…”

“…one-sided?”
I finished his sentence for him as he nodded.

“If
you’re not talking about her then you better not be talking at all, really.” He
sighed. “I’m not sure what my mom is trying to pull.”

“She
just wants you to be happy, Kay.” I replied as I brought my legs up towards me
so I could rest my arms on them.

“If she
truly did then she would leave me alone.” He grunted a hasty response.

I wasn’t
really sure what else to say at that point. I’m sure his mom assumed she was
doing something good for him but he obviously was not interested; we’ve had this
conversation before and it never changed. “
Hrm
,” I
eventually replied, “well, you’re always welcome here.”

“Yeah,”
he let out a deep and long sigh, “thanks.” We sat in silence, watching the moon
dip ever so slightly in the distance over the pale-lit dunes that lay quiet in
the still night; no sandstorms out there yet. “I’m so tired of this place,” Kay
said finally, “there’s
gotta
be something more out
there.”

I nodded
as I readjusted my sitting position. “There has to be. This town can’t be
everything.”