We sat in a semi-circle, in the light casted through the cabin's window. It was twilight time, when every shadow took on an eerie meaning. Ms. Harp, had given us each a gingerbread man and sent us out here, with a firm warning to stay near. We could see her peeking out at us every so often. Twilight isn't safe, we all know that.
So there, we sat mauling over the story we had just heard, and listening to the night sounds for any warning of the nighters.
Normally, we would not have been allowed out at this hour, except today the Storyteller had shown up. We had all sat spellbound as he told about the Time Before, but then the Grownups started remembering. Remembering was painful, so Ms. Harp had sent us out here. She even sent out Becky, who at 15 had some memory of the Time Before. Becky had confirmed for us that it was true, at one time there were buildings that were so tall as to scrape the sky. And silver birds, that flew around the world were also real. She had told us about the magic boxes that held people, and voices. There was even a switch, in those days to control light! Imagine that!
Becky doesn't recall much about the Time Before, after all she was only five when it became the Time After, but the rest of us have no real sense of it at all, seeing as we had been very young or barely born at the time.
"What's that?" Jimmy whispered, a tinge of fear in his voice.
"Just the wind, wimp," Jason, his twin answered. "What you think the Nighter's would want someone as ugly as you?"
This cracked us all up, because Jason and Jimmy were identical, from their mops of coal-black hair and green eyes, to even the number of freckles acoss their noses. I know this because I counted them once. It was during the Rainy season, when we were all so bored, and Ms. Harp had us playing counting games. I had whined that I had already counted EVERYTHING a zillion times, so she told me to count their freckles. They are close to Becky's age, having just turned fourteen, but have no memory of Time Before. I over-heard Gramps and Ms. Horn talking about it one day. They seemed to think what-ever they had seen was so horrible, they had simply blocked it out of their memories.
Again the rustling in the bush was heard. "Beck?" I stage whisper. "Shhh!" she shot back, as we all strained our eyes towards the bushes. She stood up and took a tentative step towards the bush. As if on cue we all got to our feet. The four of us now standing in a tight knot. Suddenly we heard Ms. Horn's sharp "Children!" as she roughly pulled open the door, "Hurry!" She didn't have to say it twice, we were past her in a blink. At first glance I thought she had a broom in her hand, now I saw it was the rifle. My eyes scanned the room, all the adults had taken positions of defense at the windows. I saw the Storyteller help Ms.Horn close and lock the door we just entered.
Beck is ashen white, wringing her hands, back pressed hard againt the wall. Both the twins have moved in front of her, forming a barrier. Their cherubic faces void of mirth.
I hear Gramps mutter "Damn, Nighters.." as he loaded his gun. Ms. Horn is stoking the fire in the fire place like mad. Trying to turn the friendly glow into daylight force. I stand rooted to the spot. Nighters...my flesh crawled. They had evolved in the Time After. Not human, not animal really. Some mutant cross-breed. A destructive force capable of THINKING. I had heard rumors of them. Nightmarish in appearance, satanic in deed. Light hurt them, they thrived in darkness. Sortof the boogeyman on steroids.
We can hear them circling the cabin. Heavy steps. Low, gutteral grunts, and yips. Talking to each other? Plotting, planning... a loud crash against the door makes us all jump, but it holds. We can hear something dragging across the low roof. They are literally swarming all over the cabin. Windows burst, and inhuman arms reach through the openings. Ms. Horn snatches up a burning log and thrusts it at the clawing hands. Gramp bellowing as one rakes him across the eyes, knocking the rifle from his hands,
the Storyteller is yelling something but I can't understand. I can hear Becky screaming at my back, as I follow Ms. Horn's lead, snatching up a burning log. I am running for where Gramp had stood. Swinging my torch wide. He is on the floor clutching his face. I snatch up his rifle and grab his arm. A Nighter snatches him from the other side, and a viscious tug-of -war insues. I drop the rifle and it discharges. It's roar thunderous in the tiny cabin. A scream of pain and shock..I see the Storyteller's body slump to the ground. I've no time to see where he was shot. I pull on Gramp's arm as hard as I can and am sent reeling to the floor with him on top of me. He is screaming, and blood is gushing from where his other arm had been. I see the Nighter waving it victoriously, as it pulls it through the window. I yell to Ms.Horn for help, but she doesn't come. Gramp, grabs me close. Through clench teeth he hisses, "You grab Beck and the twins, and RUN!" "I can't..." I wimper. "Yes...you..can.." his voice is forced. "You're ten years old. Not a baby. You get them out of here and to safety. You understand?" I nod. "I love you. Now RUN!" He shoves me with the last of his strength. Hot tears spill across my cheeks. I realize fire has engulfed the side of the cabin. I look for Ms. Horn with panicked eyes, and see her slumped against the wall,
her torch still feeding flames to the burning curtain. Her eyes wide and half her face missing. I scramble to my feet, and dash back to the twins and Becky. Frantically I push them ahead of me grabbing Becky's, hand screaming "RUN!" They don't argue,
as if on cue we all break into a sprint. A mad, headlong dash into the woods. Behind us we could hear the Nighters howling in victory, feasting on the flesh of those we had to leave... I guess we were to be snacks another night, as they did not give chase.
I have no idea how long we ran, or how far. Only we did not stop moving until the first rosey fingers of dawn peeled back the curtain of night. That was four days ago.
Becky has remained silent. She'll eat if I place it in her hand then move her hand to her mouth. Then she'll get the idea. She walks when I tug on her arm . I get the uneasy feeling, she isn't here with us really. Maybe she's back in the Time Before, with her real parents, and that magic switch that controlled light. Maybe she's back at the cabin helping Ms. Horn make Gingerbread men. Where ever she is, I'm pretty sure it isn't with us.
The twins don't speak much about that night either. We had all seen too much. It's easy to tell them apart now. Jason is the one with the scar running the length of his cheek. One of the creatures had gotten that close. Jimmy had ground out a torch in its eyes.
We walk all day, scavanging berries along the way and whatever else we find edible.
At night we hide sometimes in caves, sometimes up in the trees. I wonder where Gramp thought I would take them. He had said to Safety. Wonder where is that?
I don't know so we keep moving.
*****
I'm really not sure for how long we have been on the move. Our sleep is irregular, as are our meals. We are all sick. Someone always has to stop for the bathroom. We stink too, because we haven't found anywhere to bathe and we haven't a change of clothes. There's also never enough water to drink.
Both boys, suffer from nightmares. I think Becky does too, because she'll make odd cries in her sleep. Me? I don't have them because I don't sleep, not really. We've given up sleeping in trees, because I'm scared one of us will topple off, while asleep. That's all we need some broken arms or legs. Which means we sleep on the ground. We take turns keeping watch, except for Becky. She seems barely aware of us, would she even notice a nighter? We watch in pairs. That way we can keep each other awake. At first Jason and Jimmy objected to my pulling double watch. After all they pointed out, they are TWELVE, and I'm only ten. Not only that I'm also a girl. I in turn pointed out that yes, they were bigger then me and two years older. If I was still tired they could easily carry me. Besides, I don't really sleep anyway. So it was first watching with Jimmy, then with Jason, then both boys watched while I slept.
I'm not sure why they listen to me, except Gramp had told me to take them to safety.
Every night we do have a fire. The boys can build one real good. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I pretend we're out camping with Gramp. He's just outside of my line of vision, setting hare traps or something. Come morning he'll wake us up with the smell of frying bacon and flapjacks. He'll offer me a sip of his coffee and laugh at my grimace at the bitter taste. This works for awhile...then I remember, Gramp won't ever take us camping again. I'd cry, but he said I wasn't a baby anymore, and I had to get Becky and the twins to safety...where ever that is , so I swallow my tears.
As soon as it gets light we start foraging for food. It isn't always easy. Roots and berries mostly. We eat our meager breakfast, if there is one, and get moving.
We head west. At least I think it's west, following the sun. I decided to go that way
because Storyteller said he had come from the west. He goes place to place, a story for food or lodging. He also brings news...so there must be people in the west. Right?
On and on we walk. Eating whatever we find. Suddenly Becky pulls up short, and refuses to move. I pull on her hand, "c'mon, Beck," but she just stands there gazing off to the side. I am ready to scream at her, "FINE! Then stay here!," when the sound catches my ear. "What is that?" The boys stopped too, and listened. Almost in unison they cry,"Water!"
We half run , half fall our way across the field. Tall grasses snatch at us , whipping around our ankles, but we don't care. Water! Some where nearby was running water!
I am leading Becky by her hand talking excitedly to her..."You heard it. Beck! You heard what we needed, didn't you? You're still with us, aren't you?" I know I was babbling but I didn't care. Every so often we'd stop, listen, change direction a bit, then run some more until we reached it. Gramp would have called it a crick, which is narrower than a creek, but to us it was a LAKE. We flopped on our bellies and drank our fill, then we were wading and splashing in it. A funny sound is coming from Becky, as she cups water in her hands and drinks. It takes me a while to realize she is laughing and saying ' water'. I throw my arms around her and laugh too.."Yes, Becky! Yes! Water !"
After awhile, as we lay resting on the bank, allowing the sun to dry us, we decided to follow the river. That way, we should at least have water. The boys were busy trying to figure out a way to catch fish. I am not big on eating fish, but it sure sounded good. I played with the button on my blouse, as I layed there thinking that maybe Beck would come back all the way now that she was had spoken. I glanced at her, stretched out next to me. Her strawberry blonde hair spread halo like out from her head. With her cameo features and dark lashes, I bet she rivaled the Angels in beauty.
Jason quipped,"Your gonna pull that button right off, you keep twisting it."
"Already did. See?" I show him it's held on with a safety pin. He gaped at me a bit then said, "Give me the pin." I thought he'd gone crazy but okay...he then took the lace out of one of his sneakers. Never had fish caught on a safetypin and a shoelace before. It's very tasty.
We camped there that night. The stars came out with a full moon. We had a warm fire, and full tummys. Becky had spoken. I felt good, almost happy. Only, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched by someone or something out there. Lurking in the shadows.
The boys took turns fishing during their watches, so we might have fish for breakfast.
Neither was lucky. I had just stretched out next to Becky, when we heard the howling. Deep and baleful, it echoed all around us. We scrambled to our feet, and stood backs to the fire scanning. Instinctively we stood in a tight knot, almost shoulder to shoulder, the boys and I holding torches high from the fire, trying to pierce the darkness that surounded us. To the first howl another was added, and another, and yet another. It sounded like there was a pack of seven or eight, whats? Wolves, or Nighters? I guess at that moment it made no difference. We had no real defence against either. Movement in the under brush caught my eye, what ever it was it moved fast and with certainty. My hands sweated, my heart was pounding against my ribs, I sucked air in through clenched teeth reading myself for the onslaught.
The next high -pierced keening came at my elbow causing me to jump and pivot, almost thrusting my torch into Becky's face. Her head thrown back, she screamed, back into the night, note for note that dreadful howl.
I heard the rustling stop, then retreat. What ever it was, it was going away. We didn't sleep after that.
Morning. We were blurry-eyed and sluggish from no sleep. We had berries and roots again this time washed down with water. We said very little as we break camp and trudge westward following the bank of the river. We hadn't gone very far when we chanced upon a cabin. Well, what was left of one, from the reckless ruin we knew the Nighters, had been there before us. Becky and I stood outside, while the boys entered first. It was daylight we didn't fear Nighters, we just didn't want Becky seeing any remains, and I couldn't let her stand out there by herself. Though, truthfully, I wasn't interested in seeing any more torn-up bodies either. The boys called soon enough and we poked through the ruble looking for things to help in our survival.
Like our cabin, this had also been basically a one-room affair, with a loft for sleeping.
We found a skillet, a small pot, some silverware, and a few plates. From behind the turned-over table Jason produced a spatula and ladle. He had picked up a large knife also, but it was covered with blood and he dropped it.
We took a pillowcase to put it all in. Any food stuffs layed scattered and ruined. It appeared whom ever had lived here had litterally thrown everything they could at the Nighters.
It felt funny, going through things that wasn't ours, and taking. But obviously, the folks before us would never use them again, and we needed. The boys produced a quilt from upstairs. We started out when I spied the doll, half hidden under an over turned rocker. I picked it up. A silly rag-doll. So there had been a little girl here... Next thing I knew I was running from the cabin. Running , clutching the doll to my chest, with scalding hot tears bathing my face. I ran until I tripped and fell over something.
Looking I saw part of a man's leg. I vomited. Jimmy came then and gently pulled me to my feet, walking me away from there.
Jason had found some twine, and had fashioned a type of sling around the rolled up quilt so he could carry it on his back. He had done something similiar with the pillowcase, which we took turns carrying, so that it could be slung from a shoulder. He asked me if I wanted him to put the doll in the bag. I shook my head 'no'. I don't know why, but I NEEDED that doll to hold on to.
Sad, that those people's death, provided us with a better means of survival. But, because we now had a pot and water, I was able to fashion a type of stew using roots and fish. The quilt helped us to stay warm and made the ground softer, for us to lay on. We had what Ms. Harp once termed 'creature comforts'.
So the days came and went, walking, foraging, fishing, eating, sleeping, and always waiting for the Nighters to attack. We knew they were there. Lurking just outside of our fire. We would hear their howls, Becky would imitate them. How long would that ruse last? Or being THINKING creatures, were they just toying with us? And when they became bored... I wouldn't permit myself to finish the thought.
Time no longer held meaning , except for twilight.
One day, we stumbled into a town. The four of us just stood there. Folks were coming and going. Some stared at us, dirty, disheveled as we were. Probably thought we were retarded or something, standing there gaping. A voice soft, and cultured spoke, "Can I help you , Children? " We turned our eyes in unison, to a man all in black , wearing a white collar. None of us spoke.
He repeated his question. Slowly, I nodded, "Please, sir, my gramp sent us. We're looking for safety. "
We were given proper baths and clean clothes. Good, warm food filled our bellies. The townsfolks made quite a fuss over us. Assuring us the Nighters never came into town. By mutual agreement we let them think we were related. We didn't want to be split up. The Time Before had tossed us all into the loving arms of Gramp, Ms. Horn, and Ms. Harp. No blood to any of us, they had sheltered and nurtured us. We were family. We would keep it that way.
I slept at last. Confident that I had completed my task, just as Gramp had wanted that fateful night.
They took Becky first. Tying her to a large post, just outside of town. I screamed and fought best I could. The twins did too. We were told, that we simply didn't understand. See Nighters had to eat too, and as long as there was a sacrifice, they left the town alone. Usually this was done by drawing lots, but since Becky didn't really speak, she was 'inferior' and therefor a good sacrifice.
I still recall, as they were attempting to lead us away, Becky's voice, loud, pure and strong , yelling, "RUN!"
We broke loose then, and just like that long ago night, when we ran head long into the unknown with nothing but each other.
We're still looking for Safety. Where ever that's at. Until we find it, we'll just keep moving.
