The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,19
one. Stop following me around. Leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that.” His voice is low.
“And I can’t do anything to stop you, can I? Then do what you have to, but you might not want to exert yourself too much. You won’t be getting any water from us today.”
“We anticipated that.”
“Aren’t you the clever ones.” I clamp my lips shut. I’m probably close to getting shot, too.
It’s time to get to work anyway; I’m at the sled track. I grab the sled and run down the hill with it, hoping to have several trips completed before the temperature goes from steaming to blazing. The scraping of the sled along the track brings a fresh wave of creatures to me.
Once, while searching for a patch of wildberry bushes in the forest, I put my foot through the rotting carcass of an animal. The foul odor clung to my shoe for days. This stench is much, much worse. It’s going to be a very long day, and an even longer night.
Sometime later I collapse in the clearing, our deserted shelters all around me. I’ve made four trips to the caves, dragging the loaded sacks behind me, but I still have two more trips to make and I’m coming to the end of my mental and physical reserves of energy. I want nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. As if I could, with the sickening cloud of creatures around me.
Peree still follows. He hasn’t tried to talk to me again, but I hear him up there. Whenever the creatures crowd me he clears some space with his arrows. I don’t even stop walking as he shoots. What’s the death of another Groundling to him? I think bitterly.
I ease my leather slipper off and touch the angry blister on my heel. Moisture bursts out, and one of the creatures moans hungrily. I shove my shoe back on, disgusted, and limp into our shelter.
The creatures follow me in. There’s no way to secure the door against them. I’ve fetched items from other people’s homes in the past few days since the Scourge came—favorite toys, water sacks, winter clothes, Bear’s extra spear—but I haven’t been inside ours. Something about having the creatures in our home makes me feel even more revolted. I won’t be able to sleep here tonight. I go back out and press my forehead to the wall. Spreading my fingers wide against the warm wood, I search for the will to collect the last two sacks.
A creature moans close by. I turn my face away, too tired to move any farther. It moans again, but this time it sounds like . . . more than a moan. I stumble away and fall, skinning the palms of my hands.
“Are you all right?” Peree yells.
I forget I’m not speaking to him. “Do you see the creature that was next to me just then, when I was by the shelter? Does it look any different?”
“They all look the same,” he says. “Repulsive.”
“Please, Peree, look closely! Do any of them seem, I don’t know, newer maybe?” I can’t tell him what I’m thinking. It’s too horrible to say out loud.
“Newer? What are you getting at, Fennel?”
“Do any of them have long, curly brown hair?”
“Not that I see. Some of them have wisps of grayish-looking hair; most don’t have any at all. Why, what’s going on?”
I hold my stinging hands to keep them from shaking. “Nothing, I must be hearing things.”
But I wasn't.
One of the creatures spoke. It said, Help me.
And it sounded exactly like Rose.
Chapter Five
I’m back at the top of the sled track, two more sacks filled and delivered. My feet are bare, shoes discarded somewhere along the path. I lean against a tree trunk, waiting for the sun to suck the most intense heat with it below the horizon before I venture to the water hole to drink. The food Eland and Aloe gave me is long gone. I’m numb from fatigue and hunger. The idea of spending the night among the flesh-eaters isn’t even that frightening anymore.
I stagger down to the water, fall on my hands and knees, and drink like an animal. As I clean my filthy face and hands, I can tell my skin will be swollen with sunburn by morning. The creatures hover, shuffling and chewing their tongues. When will they go? I haven’t heard the sounds of a single animal since the Scourge came. What could they be feeding on? I hear Jack’s easy laugh and