It's time for another story from The Infinite Bard.
For those who don't recall, The Infinite Bard is a mutual promotion project that I'm participating in with a number of other great writers who I know and interact with in various workshops and online spaces. Every two weeks, one of our group shares a free short story for the reading public to enjoy, and all the rest of us send traffic to that story, the better to introduce readers to authors they may not have met before.
I've shared a couple of stories through the project before. And holy cow, this week I get to share again!
Yay!
So, sit back and enjoy Reavers Day!
Reavers Day
Patricia ran.
Her legs burned and her left ankle hurt, but she ran on anyway. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breath came in quick heaves that brought the ice-cold air into her body in a cleansing wave.
Her shoes were not made for this, and she cursed inwardly as one of her elevated heels caught on a seam between the paving stones. She stumbled, and flailed about for a trio of steps before she got control of herself. Pausing, Patricia pulled the collar of her waistcoat more tightly about her neck and, trying to force her breathing to slow, she looked back over her shoulder.
There was no sign of them, but she knew the reavers were back there, somewhere. Hunting.
She should never have come out, leastways not dressed like this. But Peter had promised a good time, and there hadn't been an incident in weeks. Everyone had presumed the reavers had moved on. So when he proposed an outing aboveground, a late Christmas celebration with music and dancing beneath the open sky, the entire population of Patricia's shelter had jumped at the idea.
The shelter administrator balked at the suggestion at first, but even he could not deny that there had not been even a sniff of a reaver on any sensor or camera, and no sign of their having been around at all, and so he had reluctantly agreed.
Thus the entire population of the shelter had ventured aboveground today. And at first it had gone well, just as Peter had designed. That should have been a warning. Nothing was ever as good as it seemed, not anymore. But the people had let down their guard, and…
A snapping branch brought Patricia's thoughts out from the past and back to the present. Sidestepping quickly, she got off the walking path that she had been following and took cover behind the thick trunk of a leafless Maple. At least there was no snow on the ground—unusual, that—to show her trail. Maybe the tree would be enough to hide her.
Patricia willed her breathing to slow, but certainly the pounding of her heart would ring out clearly for any reaver to hear. It was like a drumbeat in her ears.
Another breaking branch, this time closer.
Patricia fought back the urge to spring away. The reavers could run her down easily; the only reason she had got away is because their attention was elsewhere. On someone else.
Guilt rushed through her as the full realization of what had happened, and what she had done, struck her. She had abandoned her friends, her fellow survivors, to be devoured. Run away, to save her own hide.
But what could she have done? Without weapons of any sort, she could only have died there, and what would that have accomplished?
As if in response to that thought, the sounds of Jamie Mackenzie's screams as a reaver tore his belly open echoed in her memory, and she tasted bile.
Shuffling through the fallen leaves, the sound of a moving creature. But not a reaver; it sounded small. Too small to be one of them.
Patricia forced herself to move, and slowly, ever so slowly, she peaked around the tree trunk.
A small boy, maybe five or six years old and bundled up against the weather in a thick coat, mittens, and a knit hat, came into view. His eyes, wide with fright and red-rimmed from crying, darted to and fro, trying to look every way at once, and his mouth hung half open. Indecipherable little moans escaped him with each white, puffy breath, and he moved as though in a trance.
Patricia recognized him at once: Jimmy Sullivan. His father, Fred, had gone out of his way to help her out when she first got to the shelter, tired, frightened, and without any of the necessities she should have brought—because really, it was a survival situation, why would she need pumps of all things?
How Jimmy got away, Patricia had no idea, and she didn't even want to ask what had happened to Fred and his wife. But that didn't matter right that moment.
Patricia stepped out from behind the Maple and waved at the boy. "Jimmy!"
Jimmy jumped as though goosed. He half-turned to run, but then he saw Patricia and he stopped, recognition mixing with hope on his face. "Miss Patricia?"
She nodded and walked closer to him. His little lips trembled as he looked up at her. "Do you know where my Mommy and Daddy are?"
Her chest tightened at the plaintive tone of his question. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jimmy, I don't know." She looked around quickly. They were still in the clear. But they couldn't be for long, and Jimmy's presence lent her a clarity of thought she had lacked just a moment ago. "But I bet they'll be looking for you back at the shelter. Will you let me take you there?"
Jimmy chewed on his lip for a second then, seemingly buoyed a bit by her response, he nodded.
Patricia reached out to him and he placed his little hand in hers. She gave it a little squeeze. "Ok," she said. "Let's go."
The path she had been following ran parallel with the river, about fifty yards away, and meandered through the leafless forest in the general direction of downtown to the south. Patricia could see, through a break in the trees, the skyscrapers, shattered and mostly burned out by the battles that had been fought there, in that direction. She needed to go east. The shelter's access hatch was burried beneath the lift bay of an old service station at the end of a strip mall. The mall was shattered and looted, the service station useless now. But the access to the hatch had been clear when they opened it up earlier.
She figured it was two, maybe three miles away, based on where the survivors had set up the pavilion for the feast and on how far she thought she had run.
So about an hour's walk.
Except she had these damn heels, and Jimmy.
More like an hour and a half.
That was a long time to be out in the open, and they'd be defenseless if a reaver came upon them or picked up there trail. But that would be the case if she did nothing, so there was no sense fretting over it.
So they set out, keeping the skyscrapers on their right and the afternoon sun behind them.
It was bad enough walking in heels on pavement. Over dirt, and piled up leaves, and snagging roots, and rocks, it was horrible. Many times, she considered just kicking the damn shoes off and going barefoot, except for the cold. The shoes were not insulated or warm by any means, but treading barefoot on the frozen ground would do her feet in quickly.
After about a half hour, the trees thinned and they stepped out onto the side of a road. A car, smashed where it had run into a streetlight and rusting badly, sat nearby. Patricia didn't look, but from the smell she could tell there were bodies inside.
She tugged at Jimmy's hand, pulling him away from the car before he noticed the corpses, turning left in the direction she hoped the shelter lay.
Patricia was pretty sure she recognized the road, though it was hard to tell, as overgrown with spreading bushes and saplings as the land was right up to the sidewalk, and as filled with rubble and trash as the road itself was. But after a couple hundred yards, a bend in the road confirmed it. An old diner, complete with chrome flashing, less gleaming now as the elements were taking their toll, sat on the right side of the road just past the bend.
Patricia managed a smile. They were only about a mile away, just up the road. Either they were making better time than she imagined or they hadn't been as far as she initially thought. Either way, the journey was almost over.
They were almost safe.
Patricia and Jimmy continued down the road, but after another few minutes Jimmy began lagging. Patricia had to tug on his hand more and more, and he resisted with more force until finally she rounded on him.
"What's wrong, Jimmy? We're almost there." She tried to keep her annoyance out of her voice, but did not succeed.
He recoiled form her tone, and looked down at the ground. He mumbled something.
Patricia drew a breath, calming herself. "What?" she asked, in a deliberately more kind tone.
He peaked up at her and murmured, more loudly, "I need to go potty."
"Oh." Patricia straightened and wiped her hands on her pants while looking around them. The closest place with an actual bathroom was the diner, a couple hundred yards behind them. And no telling what was in there that a little boy wouldn't want to see.
Good thing he was a boy, though. It made the problem easier.
She gestured toward the side of the road, where the encroaching forest had thickened noticably since she had last driven this road. "Go over behind a tree," she said, "but don't go far."
Jimmy looked from her to the trees and back. He hesitated, then nodded and scampered off.
He wasn't gone long, but it seemed like forever. She was just about to call him when she heard…something…from back in the woods on the other side of the road.
Patricia froze, a sliver of fear running down her spine. She leaned forward, squinting as she peered into the depths of the woods. The shadows were growing longer as the sunk sank, and it was difficult to -
There! Something moving, back a ways, almost too far to see through the vegetation. That sliver became a spike as cold sweat began beading on her forehead, despite the cold.
Was it - ?
The thing appeared again, and her blood went to ice water.
A reaver. There was no mistaking its hunching gait, the elongated snout, the long arms that reached nearly to the ground, or the stub of a tail that stood out almost straight behind it.
It was moving across the field of view, not looking in her direction. If she -
"I'm ready, Miss Patricia," Jimmy said, too loudly, from behind her.
The reaver froze, and turned its snout in her direction.
Patricia turned and ran, stopping only to grab Jimmy's hand and drag him along with her as she left the road and dashed into the woods.
Panic flooded her, and she only realized how hard she was grabbing Jimmy's hand when he exclaimed, "Ow! You're hurting me!"
"I'm sorry, Jimmy," Patricia said, easing up her grip somewhat.
"Slow down! I can't run that fast!"
If it wasn't one thing it was something else. "We can't. We have to move quickly."
"Why?"
"Reavers."
Jimmy stopped completely. Or he tried to. Patricia's tug pulled him off his feet, and fell face-first into the dirt. He laid there, unmoving, just a low wail coming from him as he began trembling mightily.
Patricia bit back a curse as she turned back to him. "Jimmy, get up." He looked around frantically; no sign of the reaver.
"No."
"We can't stay here. Get up!" She didn't even try to keep the stinging tone form her voice.
Jimmy flinched, but didn't move. He just started crying. Louder.
Son of a -
Movement back amongst the trees. Two shapes this time.
Patricia's heart began to race.
They were not moving quickly, probably still searching for her trail.
She glanced over her shoulder. They had been paralleling the road, and in the direction they were heading she saw the trees thinning and the outline of buildings ahead.
The strip mall. The shelter.
Safety.
Home.
Jimmy still lay in the dirt, unmoving. Patricia looked back at the reavers, who were coming on at the same slow pace as a moment ago.
If she left now, she could make it, easily. She turned to go.
Jimmy let out another sob, and she stopped. She couldn't just leave him.
But she couldn't drag him along either.
The decision was simple, but the action was not. She flinched, biting back another curse as she kicked off her shoes and the frigid dirt seemed to stab the soles of her feet. Then she reached down and grabbed Jimmy beneath his armpits.
He immediately began squirming, and his moans became louder. Gritting her teeth, Patricia lifted from her legs and pulled him up, then tossed him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
No sooner had she risen that a mixture of hiss and squeal echoed through the woods: the hunting call of the reavers.
It was repeated a second later from somewhere off to her left. Then again off to her right.
Not two reavers. Four. Maybe more.
Patricia turned and ran for the strip mall.
Jimmy's weight made her balance difficult, and twice she almost fell from that alone. She had no idea how she kept her feet, except for the certain knowledge that if they fell the reavers would be on them before she could get them going again.
The hunting calls came again. Then again, until they became a near-continuous babble of terror-inducing noise.
With the calls came the sounds of rapid movement from all sides. Patricia risked glancing aside, and saw the reavers clearly through the trees. They were very close, paralleling her course and getting closer with each stride as they moved to run her down.
Behind her, the sounds of the reavers' footsteps were louder still.
Jimmy began screaming. The way she had settled him on her shoulders he was looking behind, and he must have seen how truly close the reavers were. He started kicking, and his movements almost made her fall again.
"Stop it, Jimmy," she managed between heaving breaths, and she smacked him on the bottom.
He stopped squirming, but started crying more loudly.
That was fine.
They broke out of the woods onto the paved concrete of the strip mall's parking lot. Sprinting full out, Patricia looked about…and there, the service station. Thank God, she had come out of the woods on the end closest to it.
It was maybe fifty feet away. She redoubled her efforts.
"Open the hatch!" she screamed, as loudly as she could between gasps. There were cameras, and thermal, audio, and radiation sensors implanted all over the strip mall, for the security of the shelter and as a way of measuring when it would be safe to emerge.
There was at least a skeleton crew of security people on watch in the shelter; otherwise no one would have been able to get back in. Surely they would see and here her, and open up.
The sound of the reavers' pursuit changed as their clawed feet struck concrete. Patricia didn't have to look back or to the side to know they were close. Very close.
The service station's garage was open, as they had left it. She dashed inside and veered toward the lift bay closest to the building proper.
It was lowered flush with the floor.
"No1" she screamed, as hope died within her. "Let us in!"
But she knew that hope was in vain. The lift was not fast enough. By the time it raised enough for them to get in -
The reavers snarled behind her, and she tossed Jimmy from her shoulder. He landed on the lift butt-first, and sat there, pain and abject horror written all over his features.
There was a tire iron lying next to the lift. How it was still there after all this time, Patricia had no idea, and she didn't stop to think on it. She picked it up, grasped it in both hands like a baseball bat, and turned, placing herself between Jimmy and the beasts.
There were three of them, standing just within the garage door, and they were staring at her with hungry and terrifyingly intelligent eyes.
"Get away from us!" Patricia tried to put menace into her shout, but even to her own ears the attempt fell flat. Her terror and despair carried clearly.
The reaver in the center smiled, its lips pulling back to reveal yellow-white, razor-sharp teeth.
A metallic click issued from the floor and the lift began to move.
The center-most reaver's eyes narrowed. It made a little bark-squeak, and the two reavers on its flanks replied in kind. Then they advanced, spreading out wide so that Patricia could only face the one by putting her back to the other.
She backed up, and ran into the rising lift, its steel edge scraped across the back of her calves, and she felt a sudden hope. If she joined Jimmy on it, and it got high enough, quick enough…
Patricia leapt backward, landing on the lift, and prayed for it to speed the hell up.
The reavers surged forward.
There was no way the lift would remove them from the beasts' reach in time. Patricia raised the tire iron. Maybe she could take one of them out, at least.
An explosion echoed through the garage, so loud it made Patricia stumble backward. He foot came down on something soft and uneven, and she fell backwards.
A second explosion. Then a third.
She had gotten tangled up in Jimmy as she fell, and lost her grip on the tire iron. She cast about desperately for it.
The reavers screamed, a cry very different from their hunting cries.
Two more explosions, then all was silent except for the hydraulic hiss of the lift rising.
Light smoke rose from around the edges of the lift as Patricia finally regained the tire iron and found her feet.
The reavers were down. The one on the right looked as though its head had exploded. The one on the left still scrabbled about, but its left leg was gone below the knee and there was a great hole in the center of its chest, from which blood and other fluids poured freely. It was dead; it just didn't know it yet.
The center reaver had two such similar holes, one in the chest and one in the abdomen. It lay still where it fell in mid-stride.
What - ?
"Patricia!" A deep voice came out of the hole beneath the lift, and then a lean, muscular man boosted himself up onto the garage bay floor. It was Felix, former Marine and a member of the shelter's security detail. He was dressed in his fatigues and wore body armor, and he carried biggest, most beautiful shotgun that Patricia had ever seen. He met her eyes and grinned for a second. Then he became all business, waving for them to come down.
"Hurry! There are half a dozen more out there, and I only have two more slugs."
Patricia didn't need any more invitation than that. She lowered Jimmy down as quickly as she dared, then jumped to the floor.
She followed Felix down into the well and the lift began to lower.
Two more hunting calls sounded, and she looked back to see a pair of reavers run into the garage.
"Better luck next time, jerks," she said as the lift sealed itself behind her.
But she didn't really mean it.
Back within the massive inner door of the shelter, Jimmy squealed, "Daddy!" and ran to the waiting Fred's wide-spread arms.
Fred was favoring his left leg and he had blood on left side of his head, but when he caught his son up in his arms, the look of joy and relief on his face made it seem as though he had not a care in the world.
"Nice work," Felix said. Then, more softly, sadly, "Just wish his mother had made it as well."
Patricia's heart shrank in her chest, and she looked back at Fred, tears welling up in her eyes. When their eyes met, she saw that his joy fought against a crushing pain that she could not even imagine.
Still, when he smiled at her and mouthed, "Thank you," she had the idea that he would be alright.
And maybe, just maybe, they all would.
Someday.
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