3) Desperation

    There was no distance in the morning, she was practically hugging him. He was still fast asleep, barely alive even. She extricated herself and wondered why she had woken. It wasn’t even light yet. Perhaps it was because she had been attached to him and even in her sleep she had known this was dangerous.

    She tried to get back to sleep as she knew she would need the hours but that wasn’t easy. At the end of the day she was exhausted and simply dropped off but now, all she could think about was everything that could be out there, including skin ripping Huns. He had said that his people wanted to rip him apart, a fate worse than death became less terrifying if the fate after it was actually a fate worse than death.

    “Have you slept at all?”

    “Go back to sleep.”

    “Stop worrying and I will.”

    “What?”
    “I’m not going to sleep while you’re lying there freaking out about the entire world.”

    She wanted to know how the hell he knew what she was thinking.

    “Relax. Go to sleep. I’m more dangerous than anything out there.”

    “That’s not comforting.”

    “But I’m on your side.”

    This however was. There may well have been monsters out in the world but she had… befriended was too strong a term, she had something one of those monsters and it had proven rather terrifyingly capable. She found herself drifting off.

    It felt like a cruelly short time before she was roused again. Even so, she found herself noting that whether he was about to go to sleep or just waking up, his eyes remained equally dead. She wanted to know what made a person look like that but not if it risked turning her the same way.

    It was a grey day. Everything was grey. The sky was grey, the rubble was grey, even the undergrowth seemed grey when put against it. He was grey as well in that he was mostly colourless, not pale like herself, but faint; like he lacked blood. The only colour he had was the pinks and purples of his scars. It was all very depressing.

    “You look troubled.”

    It was the first time he had expressed interest in her during the day so it was pleasant though a little unsettling. “I knew it was bad out here but I never knew it was like this.”

    “Like what?”

    “Everything is… well look at it.”
    “You’re walking the paths of a dead city. It’s not supposed to make you happy.”
    “But all of this-“

    “Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

    “Very small.” She confirmed. “How do people live out here?”
    “One man’s hell is another man’s decent living.”

    “Is there anything good out here?”

    “Yeah. But the space in between… that’s the wilds.”

    “And homesteaders live in that?”

    “You’ll see.”

    She did see that afternoon. He kept his hands in plain view as they approached the structures. The main building had only a single floor and had been patched with everything that could be used. There were a couple of outer buildings, one with a few goats standing and watching them idly and the other with a goat hide being tanned out front.

    She wondered if perhaps she should copy his gesture with his hands but he looked dangerous while she… she would look ludicrous if she raised her hands. She almost raised them though when a man with a crossbow suddenly appeared though it was aimed at her companion and it didn’t look particularly dangerous. He didn’t think so.

    “We’re just looking for shelter… and gossip.” He said soothingly in a tone she wouldn’t have expected him to possess.

    “Gossip?” The man was baffled.

    “I just want some news, that’s all. We’re not after anything. We’ve got our own food. Just want a roof over our heads, and some news.”

    A woman appeared, unarmed, and Alice saw that while he frightened her, she gave her some reassurances. “Who are you?”
    She looked at him for that answer. “Just wanderers.” He said.

    “You’re dressed like a Hun.” The man accused.

    “Yes I am. I was a Hun.”

    “You were a Hun?”

    “I quit. And killed a few Huns when I quit. Trust me, I’m not one of them anymore.”

    Alice thought the only thing going for him was that his story seemed so unlikely no one would make it up. “And you?” The man asked.

    “Just tagging along.”

    “Oh let them in, Brent.” The woman pushed the crossbow down. “Does she look like she’s a danger? She could be one of ours.”
    “And him?”

    “He’s alright.” Alice said, earning herself a look. “What? You are alright.”

    “Okay.” Brent relented. “Come in. But I’m watching you.”

    “Oh relax.” The woman sighed and pushed him back toward the main building. “Hello.” She spoke to Alice. “I’m Laine. He’s Brent and he’s just being careful.”

    “If he wasn’t being careful, I’d slap some sense into him.” He replied and she and Laine stared at him. “It’s a compliment.” He grunted.

    “I suppose it is.” Laine remained still while he followed Brent. “He’s friendly, isn’t he?”

    “I don’t think he knows how to say nice things in a kind way.” Alice opined and then accepted Laine’s gesture to go in.

    There were hand-built partitions in the structure and he was already sat at a table in the kitchen. The next room looked like a combination of sitting room and bedroom. There was another room beyond that. Laine opened a shuttered window to flood the kitchen with light.

    “Seen any Huns around then?” He asked.

    Brent placed the crossbow on a shelf. “Only you.”
    “We’ve a seen a few of Fredrickson’s men, asking the same question.” Laine continued. “They’re frequent visitors.”

    “Acting as lookouts for them then?”
    “We see them most. They don’t threaten my wife like your kind.”

    “Don’t believe that’s how all of Fredrickson’s warriors behave.” He warned, ignoring the insult. “Even Huns respect homesteaders.” He said this as much to Brent as he did to her, reinforcing what he had said before.

    “And if they discover we’re harbouring you?” Brent inquired.

    “Oh for heaven’s sake!” Laine sighed. “If some Huns come looking for him, they’ll already know which way he’s headed and we’ll just confirm what they already know if they ask us and you won’t hold it against us, will you?” She asked him.

    Alice looked on intently while he remained completely impassive.

    “I wouldn’t.” He said. “Like you said. If I’m being tracked and they track me here, like you say you won’t be telling them anything they don’t already know.” Alice was impressed by this response. “And be eager to tell them. There’s one out there after me who really won’t tolerate anything getting in his way.”

    “Thank you for the warning.” Brent replied smoothly.
    “It’s only manners.” He responded.

    “Wow.” Alice said uncontrollably.

    “What?”

    “Nothing.”

    “You meant something.”

    “I think she’s just enjoying your pissing contest.” Laine remarked dryly.

    The two men glared at the woman and Alice found it to be a rather adorable domestic moment. It definitely made a nice change.

    “How many of you are there?” She asked.

    Brent hesitated momentarily, glancing at her companion and probably deciding that lying to him was pointless. “Five.”

    “Next room. Two girls, one boy.” He seemed extremely disinterested.

    “How do you know?”

    “I’ve been this way before.”

    “I’ve never seen you.”
    “You weren’t supposed to. Nor were the five Fredricksons staying here. And you didn’t and neither did they. Until they left.”

    “You killed them?”
    “No. Not me…” She saw that he looked remorseful. “Maintaining the rules; no blood on the homesteaders.”
    “If only everyone was so civilised.” Laine remarked.

    He grunted and then looked at them again. “So what is the news with Fredrickson?”
    “Nothing new. Your people haven’t come north in a while so they haven’t had a reason to come south. They come by to check up now and then.”
    “How long is a while?”

    “You’re the first people we’ve seen for three weeks, apart from our neighbours.”

    “Interesting.” He didn’t sound interested though.

    “You have neighbours?” Alice asked.

    “We have goats, they have a few sheep. We give them cheese, they give us wool. Basic trade.” Brent shrugged.

    “Why do you live out here?”

    They both looked at her and then at him but oddly he offered no comment on her. “This is our home.”

    “But it’s… dangerous out here.” She said lamely.
    “Not much better out there.” Laine shrugged. “We have our problems but we don’t have to worry about wars.”

    Both Brent and her companion grunted and seemingly for different reasons. They were both wearing brooding expressions and Laine seemed as used to it as Alice found herself becoming. Men out here it seemed were content to dwell on dark thoughts. She certainly never remembered her father being this way.

    “This just doesn’t seem-“
    “Secure?” Laine chuckled. “The more secure your home, the more it looks like you have something worth taking. When raiders come our way, we give them some cheese and a pot of stew and they go on their way.”

    “Just like that?”

    “Just like that.” Laine confirmed. “That’s life out here.”
    “Better than some.” He remarked, looking tired suddenly. “Where can I lie down?”

    “Do you have any objections to the shed?” Brent asked politely.

    “I’ve slept in holes I’ve dug myself.” He answered.

    “You might prefer the hole.”

    “We’ll see.” He nodded and then sniffed heavily. “I think I’ll go hunting first.” He stood and left before Alice could react, leaving her alone with the two. She didn’t know if that was indifference to her or trust in them. Wondering about it made her head hurt.

    “Your friend has…” Brent seemed to cast around for the right term so Alice helped him.

    “Issues. Yes.” Even if she didn’t know what they were. “Why do you live out here?”

    “Pardon?” Laine was polite while Brent’s expression left nothing to the imagination.

    “Living here, just your family, it can’t be as safe as living-“

    Laine cut in. “As living with the big groups that are always trying to kill each other?”
    She considered the ferocious fighting between her people and the Huns, the conflicts with Fredrickson’s people as well. “We don’t have to worry about raiders at all.”

    Brent growled but said nothing. “Raiders can be bought off. Crows want to trade. As your surly friend points out, the factions consider us off-limits for whatever reasons.”

    Alice was surprised that she didn’t know what those reasons were and decided to compile a list of questions to ask him at some point.

    “Who are you though?” Laine pressed. “You’re definitely not a Hun.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “We know how Huns treat pretty girls.” She said lightly. “And the two of you don’t seem to be in a relationship. So who are you?”

    “I’m just… tagging along.” It was the only way to really describe it. She couldn’t go into details…

~~~~~~

    Laine asked many questions about life beyond her homestead and she was fine answering those. It helped pass the time until he returned and contributed a wolf to the pot. She had known people with pet dogs so part of her was reviled at the thought of eating it. On the other hand; it was food.

    At the meal, she saw their children though little was said. The girls, who were almost her age were clearly intimidated by her protector who wore his rifle to dinner. He gave them a glance and that was it which was completely at odds with what she knew of boys. Brent and Laine’s boy was afraid of both of them it seemed. They appreciated the wolf meat in the stew though, that was obvious.

    The shed that they had been given stank of old blood and other things she didn’t want to think about. This was where the goats were killed, skinned and butchered. It was not therefore a welcoming place.

    “Sit.” He said.

    “What?”

    “Sit.” He pressed her down into the chair. “I’m going to look at your feet.”

    “Pardon?”

    “Just sit still.”

    He began to pry at her laces and she was too bemused to stop him. He unlaced her knots and then slowly loosened the shoe from her foot, growling to himself. He looked critically at the shoe.

    “Do your people not know the right foot and the left foot aren’t the same?” He grunted and she shrugged, still trying to comprehend that he was taking off her shoes.

    He took off the other and then peeled off her socks and she felt intensely vulnerable as he ran his hands over her bare feet. Her feet weren’t ticklish fortunately and she couldn’t think of anything that could have more been awful than giggling as his fingers slipped over her soles and heels.

    “You definitely need the rest… and better shoes.” He put a larger blister between two fingers, gazing idly at it and then looked at both feet together. “Ten toes… cute.”
    “What’s cute about that?”

    “Don’t see it every day.”
    “How many toes do you have?”

    “Thirteen.” He answered as if this was perfectly normal. “We’ll deal with these.” He reached into his pack and pulled out bandages and began to slowly and carefully wrap her left foot.

    “Why are-“

    “If you’re going to be around me, I don’t want you sobbing every ten seconds because you’re walking on massive infected blisters.” He said in what she was thought was a very nasty fashion that contrasted sharply with the tenderness with which he bandaged her foot. “And anyway, I’m the reason they’re this mangled.”

    She was beginning to find it tedious the way he said something nasty and followed it up with something nice or vice versa. It was like he felt the need to balance everything he said. It was as if he believed he would be judged for having a sentiment so he had to negate it as soon as possible.

    “Keep these off.” He said, holding up her shoes. “Seriously, who made these?”

    Alice shrugged because she really didn’t know.

    “So my people are superior cobblers. That’s unexpected.” He mused and then put her shoes neatly aside which surprised her as he looked as if he would have preferred to hurl the offending footwear away.

    “What about your feet?” She asked.

    “I’m wearing proper boots and I’ve spent years traipsing around the wastes.” He explained.

    “Can I see your toes?”

    “What?”

    “You said you had thirteen, I want to see.”

    He thought about this for a moment and seemed to decide it was a fair request as he began to unlace his right boot. He wasn’t wrong about the difference in quality between them and her footwear. It had to be because he was a fighter and so got better shoes.

    “Oh wow that’s ugly.” She found herself saying before she knew she was speaking as he pried off his sock and revealed a foot that had seven toes. The truly creepy bit was that they looked as if they belonged rather than appearing tacked on. It was extraordinarily disturbing to look at that foot and know that it was telling her that his other foot had six toes. The lack of symmetry was perhaps the weirdest part and she tries to imagine looking at her own feet and seeing that they didn’t match. It would be like having an extra finger on only one hand or a third arm.

    “Thank you, Miss Perfect.” He replaced his sock and she didn’t know if he was mocking her or complimenting her or possibly even both knowing him. “What do you make of the family then?”
    “They seem like good people.”

    “You don’t think there was anything off about them?”
    “No.”

    “Interesting.”
    “What?”

    “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

    “What’s the point asking me then?”
    “You’ll learn this way.” He said, as if that should have meant something to her.

    He had no trouble going to sleep and this bothered her for a while until she realised that he probably didn’t even notice the smell of blood anymore. He had no reason to. For her though, she was forced to keep her nose beneath the blanket as the smell of wolf hide was more tolerable than old blood.

~~~~~~

    She woke to a low grumbling noise and she groaned and ignored it but it repeated.

    “You’re hugging my arm.”

    She opened her eyes and found him looking down on her and very close to her. It wasn’t his fault, she had her arms wrapped around one of his.

    Alice hastily let go and he sat up, his arm hanging limply and obviously completely numb as he worked at it. “Sorry.”

    “You ever have a doll as a child?”

    “Yes.”

    “That explains it.”

    “I hold your arm in my sleep once and you think I have a problem?”

    “You’ve grabbed one of my arms most nights.”

    “I have?”

    He shrugged and she had a vision of him waking up and almost killing her before realising he wasn’t being attacked. Somehow, she didn’t think this was just her imagination. He stretched and his bones crackled. “How are your feet?”

    “They feel the same way they did before you touched them.”

    “Good.” He stretched again and stood. His arm had come back to life it seemed. “Sleep well?”

    This friendly question was unexpected. “Why are you asking me that?”

    “We’ve got an actual roof over our heads. That puts me on edge. But not you… you trust people.”
    “You said you trusted homesteaders.”
    “I don’t think I said that.”

    “Do you trust anyone?”
    “I used to. Now I’m here. You figure it out.”

    “People can be decent you know.”

    “I let you follow me around, don’t I?”

    It was a nice thing to say, except it was said in a nasty way. He didn’t seem to mean anything by it though and she wondered if it was simply reflex from growing up among Huns to be as nasty as possible.

    Laine welcomed them into the main building and had no hesitations in serving them. Alice knew she was innocent but even she knew that this was a very charitable thing to do considering their meagre living.

    “Sleep well?” Brent inquired.

    His tone left no room for interpretation and even as Laine cut him a sharp look, she spluttered “We’re… we’re not…” She stopped because her companion was standing.

    “I meant no offence.” Brent said and he did not sound calm.

    He looked ferocious but something seemed to check him, and he sat and though he didn’t make a sound, it was clear to everyone that he mouthed an apology.

    They ate in silence and Alice wasn’t sure who looked more troubled. Brent seemed deeply concerned and by something more than a Hun at his dinner table. The ex-Hun in question seemed ashamed for looking like he was about to upturn the table and cause havoc.

    They returned to the shed where he continued with his introspection, sitting with his head resting on a fist.

    “Are we staying here today then?”

    “Give your feet some time to rest.” He said without looking at her.

    “What do we do?”

    “I’m sure there’s something they might like help with.” He was still staring thoughtfully at the ground.

    “You checked your temper.”

    “You don’t hurt homesteaders.”

    “But if you’re not a Hun anymore, the rule doesn’t apply, does it?

    He looked sharply at her and she had to resist the compulsion to flinch. “It occurred to me.”

    “And you didn’t hurt him because you knew you shouldn’t.”

    “I didn’t hurt him because I thought putting a knife through his skull for a bad joke was an overreaction.” His tone was harsh, grim, self-mocking. “It took me longer to realise that than it should have.”

    It startled her to know that it was indeed shame he had been feeling, it was more alarming than hearing he had been thinking about killing Brent. Murderous impulses were very Hunnic but knowing they were wrong… that was reassuring.

    “Hey.” Brent recoiled momentarily as her companion looked up at him. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one who responded this way. “You’re a Crow now, right?”

    “Good a term as any.” He answered.

    “There’s something that might interest you then.”

    “Like?”

    “Best if you see… hard to explain.”

    He grunted and stood and she didn’t hesitate in following though this seemed to surprise Brent but he nodded. There was a large knife sheathed on his belt and she guessed that if they were leaving the homestead, he needed something to protect himself and the crossbow was a bit unnecessary when they had guns. Except neither of them knew she had a gun. She hadn’t given it much thought. She hadn’t needed to with him and his rifle.

    “Far?” He asked.

    “Not far.” Brent replied. The two of them would probably have been happy just grunting at each other.

    “What would be interesting to you?”

    “Lots of things.” He said though he didn’t seem convinced. There was a peculiar kind of tension to him as well, not like he was prepared to be attacked at any moment as she had seen before but instead a strange kind of nervous energy.

    They walked for maybe ten minutes before Brent led them into a ruin that didn’t seem any different from any other but she had learnt that meant little out here. There was no telling what a seemingly lifeless shell contained.

    “Through there.” Brent pointed. “I think someone was using it as a base to spy on my family… but someone else got them first.” Her unfriendly ally passed him by and she made to follow. Brent suddenly lunged and for a moment she thought he was protecting her from something but then he had seized hold of her and the knife was no longer on his belt.

    He was only a second slower and it felt as if the rifle was pointed at her, not at Brent. She had a knife at her throat and a rifle pointed at her head.

    “I don’t want to hurt her, all I want is that rifle.” Brent was not calm and she felt the blade quiver against her neck.

    “Put the knife away.” His tone was almost bored and if it wasn’t for his taut body, she would have thought he was completely relaxed.

    “Put the rifle down.”

    “Put the knife away.” He repeated.

    “I’ll kill her!” Brent’s voice went rather shrill.

    “Where will that get you?” His voice was cold and she thought there was even a smile curling at his lips. “You kill her and I’ll kill you. I’ll kill your whole family.”
    “Not helping.” Alice toned, feeling the knife pierce her skin as Brent shook.

    “You won’t let her die.”
    A smile broke across his face and it didn’t help her or Brent. “We’ve known each other a very short time. You should pick your strategy better.”

    “You wouldn’t let me hurt her.” Brent repeated, sounding desperate. It struck Alice that his question about their sleeping arrangement had been a test and even though he had learned the two of them weren’t a couple, the violent reaction he had provoked had been more than enough to convince Brent that this would work.

    The rifle was a small black hole that seemed to grow larger the longer it was pointed her way but then it wasn’t as he lowered the weapon and she realised he wasn’t entirely cold and remorseless.

    “Slide it over here.”

    He placed the rifle on the ground and then kicked it over. Brent kept the knife and pressed her down so he could bend and pick up the rifle. Now the rifle barrel that had been directed at her face was now in her back.

   “Right-“ Brent began but he was already moving, there was a soft click behind her and then he shoved her out of the way, seized the rifle from Brent and clubbed him to the ground with the wooden stock. She watched as he flicked something on the side of the weapon.

    “If you’re going to try and steal a weapon, know how it works!” He spat. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He reversed the rifle and clubbed Brent again.

    “I need to protect my family!”

    “Protect them from yourself.” He kicked him hard in the gut.

    “Stop it!” She knew enough to know that words weren’t enough and tackled him instead. At least she tried, somehow she ended up on the ground.

    “The guy was threatening to cut your throat!”

    “He’s scared!”
    “Everybody’s scared out here! Everybody is trying to stay alive any way they can! Do you know what that means? Do you? It means sunny little optimists like you get robbed, raped and killed by the people who know that!”

    “Is that what you do?” Alice demanded, standing up to face him and close up she saw the life in his eyes.

    “I don’t need to; I know how to take care of myself!”

    “And what about the people who don’t?”
    “They die.”

    It wasn’t him she slapped, though it was his face, it was the entire world out here that was cold, dark and remorseless. He simply personified it.

    And he simply lifted her off the ground by the armpits, pressing her against the wall so that they were at the same level.

    “Where’s your humanity?” She asked quietly.

    The pressure on her arms increased and that spark in his eyes became an inferno. “My humanity was cut out of me.”

    The way he said ‘cut’ made her tremble and the way he held her, as effortlessly as a child with a doll, showed how small and insignificant she was in the face of that uncaring world. “Ask him why he needs your rifle.”
    “What?”

    “You’re a vicious psychopath; what would make him desperate enough to try and steal from you?”

    This at least piqued his interest though he didn’t put her down. “What the hell do you need a rifle for?”

    “Raiders.” A thin amount of blood was trickling from Brent’s gums where he had smacked him. “I needed it for raiders. They come here and they take half of our food and they leave us alone until they come back again. I don’t have enough. I don’t. They’ll take my daughters this time!”

    He relaxed suddenly and she almost fell as her feet touched the ground again. He still had hold of her but the strength was gone, replaced with a strange twitch in his right hand instead. “When?”

    “What?”

    “When are they coming, you idiot?!” The sudden bark made her start in fright and Brent cringe.

    “Today… tomorrow? I don’t know.”

    He growled, long and low, and then because she was there and between him and the wall, rested his brow against her head.

    Alice felt that she should do something, something comforting, even though in this position she felt like she was the one who was being consoled. All she could think to do was pat him a couple of times on the side.

    Suddenly he released her and stretched. “Okay then. Killing raiders.”

    He left them both behind in the ruin and for a moment Alice hesitated in the face of a man who had held a knife to her throat but then she realised how utterly pathetic he was and that his only crime was a willingness to do anything to protect his own. She offered him a hand.

~~~~~~

    “So now you’re helping them?”

    “Yes.”

    “Just like that?”

    “Yes.”

    “You’re about to beat him to death and then you suddenly develop compassion? You?”
    “I owe you a slap.” He said.

    “You put your rifle down today. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

    “I had the safety catch on. You weren’t in danger.”

    “Really?”
    “He might have panicked and cut you but he doesn’t have it in him to kill. Maybe in self-defence…” He shrugged.

    “So if I wasn’t in danger, why did you beat him?”
    “Men shouldn’t threaten little girls.”

    “I am not a little girl.”

    He fixed her with his best reptilian stare. “You’re a girl. You’re little. You’re a little girl.”

    “Why are you such an arsehole?”

    He shrugged.

    It was difficult to call him an arsehole when he had suddenly decided to help a family for seemingly no reason. “Why are you doing this?”

    “Why not?”

    “Because you really don’t seem like the kind of guy who risks his life for someone else.”

    “He said there’s eight of them. That’s not a risk.”

    “I don’t know if you’re arrogant or crazy.”

    “I’m a crack shot planning on ambushing eight men who probably haven’t ever been involved in a fair fight in their lives. They go out of their way to avoid fair fights. People like me go through them like-“

    “Like Huns through decent people?”

    “Yes.” He said frankly.

    “Is that why you left? Because you started to feel like occasionally helping good people?”

    “Something like that.”

    “I’m with a reformed Hun. Creepy.”

    “I think your kind has the monopoly on creepy.”

    ‘Monopoly’ was a long word that didn’t seem natural coming from his lips. “My kind?”
    “You might think that fringe covers it but that ‘C’ burned onto your forehead is very noticeable.”

    She raised her hand and touched the brand before she realised what she was doing. “How noticeable?”

    “No man will be looking at your forehead.”

    Alice looked down and wondered what he meant. He definitely didn’t mean her breasts. What did he mean? She didn’t want to ask the question.

    He was sniffing the air again, inhaling great nasal gulps of the atmosphere while his nose twitched as if savouring it.

    “Why do you do that?”

    “There’s three men to the east. Apparently they start pissing before they’ve unbuttoned their trousers.”

    “That’s not funny.”

    “It’s a fact. There’s three men to the east, a pack of wolves ripping a deer carcass apart to the north-east and Fredrickson’s domain’s to the north and reeks of slaughtered pigs at the moment.”

    “Are you serious?”
    “Yes.”

    His sense of humour was dark. He wouldn’t tease her. He was serious. “What the hell?” She asked.

    “You don’t have mutants where you come from?”

    “Not like that.”

    “I am unique.”

    He sounded bitter about this. The idea he had a sense of smell like a dog made many things make sense all of a sudden. He gnawed his food like a dog after all. It took her straight back to their first meeting. “What’s my scent?”

    “Fear.” He wasn’t looking at her as he said this.

    “Fear?”

    “Fear.”

    “I’m not scared.”
    “Yes you are. You’re scared all the time.”

    “I’m not.”

    He looked at her and she knew she definitely felt afraid when his lifeless eyes were on her. “I thought you’d relax after a while but you’re terrified of the real world. You’re a soft little Connolly out in reality and every day you hate the world a little more. I think you hate me every day because you know the world would have eaten you by now if you hadn’t met me. And I scare you because I’m an evil Hun.”

    It was the most he had ever said to her and left her feeling vulnerable as apparently the most unfeeling human stroke mutant in the world could tell how she felt deep down. She also felt insulted to be called ‘little’ again though ‘soft’ was a fair assessment. “I don’t hate you. I know I need you; I’m grateful.” Now he was the one who looked vulnerable. “And you do scare me. Not because you were a Hun.” There was some gratitude in his expression that she made this distinction. “Because you look at me like you want to hurt me and it wouldn’t be a big deal to you.”

    “I started killing when I was twelve, it wouldn’t be.” This would have been a terrifying statement if there hadn’t been definite remorse in it. “I don’t want to hurt you. You irritate me but that’s not your fault. I like having you around. You give me some direction, something to do.”
    “Something to do?”

    “How much hunting and foraging have you done?”

    “I don’t know how!”
    “Exactly. I take care of you. It’s something to do.”

    “You like me?”

    “Sure.” He grunted.

    She almost smiled. ‘Sure’ was very him. “Is that why you’re doing this? For me?”
    “Don’t push your luck.”

    Alice nodded meekly. It was amazing how quickly they had gotten back to her being afraid of him again.

~~~~~~

    His rifle had a ten round magazine which he claimed was all he needed. She thought this was extremely arrogant of him, even considering the injuries he had inflicted on the two Huns. It just seemed unwise to believe all he needed was eight bullets for eight men.

    But he had settled comfortably in his chosen perch, his rifle propped on top of his pack while he lay on his blanket. Brent had assured him the raiders would come from this direction, as they always did.

    “What if they don’t come today?” She asked.
    “Then they don’t come today.”
    “You’ll lie here all day?”
    “It’s what snipers do.”
    “What if you need-“

    “My kind have strong bladders.”

    “What about boredom?”

    “You have no imagination.”

    She didn’t want to know what he imagined to pass twelve hours. Did he think back about all the men he had killed with his rifle before, or maybe he did have a few positive memories. There couldn’t be many, no one who had led a good life had dead eyes. All things considered, it seemed ridiculous that she couldn’t ask him. But she didn’t want to tell her story yet so it was good in its way. It did mean she had nothing to say as they waited.

    “What happens after this?”

    “They get a few weapons and maybe next time they can scare off the next group of raiders that come their way. Out here… You get respite, not peace.”

    “You say such inspiring things.”

    “Life out here is hard and cruel.”
    “You think I don’t know that?”
    “You’re a Connolly. Everybody knows that Connollies have the easiest lives of the three factions. You’ve got the most farmland. The Huns have a mad leader obsessed with strength and they have to fight like animals to survive and Fredrickson has to cope with Evangels and other problems.”

    “Connollies don’t have it all good.”
    “Obviously. That’s why you’re out here. Must have been bad.”

    “It was.” She waited but he didn’t press her. It was clear it was because he didn’t want her to ask him about his reasons. He seemed to be actually miserable now rather than only grim. It definitely made her curious though and she knew that he definitely wanted to know about her but neither of them wanted to talk about it. Not yet anyway… maybe she would tell him. She suspected it would make him laugh though and that was a good reason to keep it to herself.

    An hour later she heard a crackle of gunfire off to the south that lasted about five minutes during which her companion showed as much concern as if a butterfly had fluttered by.

    Two hours later she was slipping in and out of a doze while he remained as still and alert as he had when they had started. She wondered how many of her people he had killed and if he had killed them with this level of indifference.

    “Good afternoon.” He said without warning, shifting finally. “Arrogant b******s.”

    She couldn’t even see who he was referring to. Perhaps it was his smell thing again and if she could just about believe he could smell fear, arrogance was taking it a step too far.

    A couple of minutes later she saw them. Eight men clustered together and casually striding down the street, their weapons hanging limply in their hands. It was immediately obvious to her that he had been right to be confident; only one of them had a rifle. The rest of them carried crossbows and makeshift axes. To the family they were a great threat but to him with his scoped rifle, they were merely meat.

    After hours in silence, the snap of the rifle made her jump but he didn’t notice, firing twice more and then exhaling. The raider with the rifle was down and still while the other two writhed on the ground. The rest had scattered and she watched as one of them took a bullet in the back of the head and with a sick fascination she watched him land in the puddle that was his face.

    They fled now as they realised half their number had been butchered and that was a terrible mistake because it simply made his job easier and in seconds, he had exterminated them. It was the only way to describe it. Eight men had been killed in less than a minute and he was scratching at his head lice.

    He stood and stretched and showed absolutely no sign of having killed eight men. None at all. He looked bored if anything. He was clearly thinking only about scavenging.

    Scavenging and knifing the men he had only wounded. She was sure they were going to die anyway and he was only speeding them on the way but he did so extremely casually, cutting one man’s throat while pulling off his pack. He really didn’t care.

    She wasn’t the only one. Brent and Laine appeared and they likewise couldn’t believe it. They had expected a battle of some kind, as she had. Instead it had been a massacre. He paid them no attention, taking his time rifling his victims. Despite everything she knew, that was the only word that properly described it. They had never stood a chance.

    It was karmic in many ways. Their way of life had been preying on those weaker than them and they had died because they had encountered someone far stronger. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he had said that he was more dangerous than anything that might have threatened them.

~~~~~~

    “How many people have you killed?”

    “A hundred and twelve.” He answered, far too quickly and precisely for her liking.

    “You keep count?”
    “Yes.”

    “Why?”
    “Why not?”

    “Because it’s creepy.”

    “Killing someone is a big deal… at least it starts that way… After you reach a certain point though, it isn’t. But I keep count because if I don’t, then I really will have reached the point where taking lives is meaningless.” He scraped his teeth over his top lip. “It’s a big number though.”

    What troubled her was that he had managed to justify something that shouldn’t have been justifiable. Perhaps she was starting to adapt to life away from civilisation.

    “Today was nothing to you, wasn’t it?”
    “I’m used to people who can shoot back.” He had given Brent the raiders’ sole rifle and all but one of the few handguns they had possessed, taking only a few rounds for himself. The only thing the two of them had really gained was the raiders’ supplies and as they had been planning to take the family’s food, there hadn’t been much.

    “Do you care?”

    “About them? No. No reason to. Raiders are vermin. When I’ve killed your kind, I’ve always wondered if they were like me. I didn’t choose this life. It chose me. Maybe they were the same. Maybe fate put a weapon in their hands and then fate put them up against me. They never stood a chance. What are you good at?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Everyone is good at something. What are you good at?”
    “I don’t know.” She answered honestly.

    “I’m good at killing. Put a gun or knife in my hand and I’ll always hit my target. Same knife in my hand up close, good luck. They’re my skills. Didn’t pick them. But they let me survive. Make me strong.”

    “Now you’re using your skills for good then.”

    He laughed; a single, bitter ‘ha’ that shot from his lips. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do.” His bitterness made her skin creep. “I’ll wander around, righting wrongs, protecting the weak; fighting the good fight.”

    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s a lot more people fighting the bad fight. That’s why me and you are here.”

    “So you think it’s pointless to fight evil?”

    “Don’t call it evil. Too melodramatic.”

    “You don’t think Gargantua is evil?”

    He fixed her with a hard and especially brutal gaze and she raised a hand and pretended to rub her eye but the simple truth was that she was trying to shield herself from his gorgon stare. “Gargantua has done things you couldn’t imagine in your nightmares.”

    “So that’s a yes then?” She asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.

    “Out here people do terrible things to stay alive; not because they like it. Only a few are plain vicious.”

    “A few?”
    “Is a spider evil because it was born to trap and eat its prey alive?”

    “You think some people are born evil?”
    “I think if you’re born into a nice environment where people treat each other well and have strong moral values, you’re more likely to be a good person. If you’re born into a group of b******s who enjoy burning each other for a laugh, you won’t be a good person.”

    “So what are you then?”
    “Complicated.”

    “How pretentious.”

    “And you, Miss Perfect?”
    “Well I’m Miss Perfect.” She beamed at him, making him roll his eyes and look away.

    “Go to sleep.” He said.

    “Hey.”

    He turned back mutely.

    “Thanks.”

    “For what?”

    She shrugged, not really knowing how to express gratitude to someone for looking out for her and for doing the right thing.

    He gave her an odd look but said nothing, turning back again.

~~~~~~

    She went to sleep quickly again, even though they hadn’t done much. It was the beauty of a clear conscience. He didn’t give a s**t about raiders but it bothered him that he had been willing to beat Brent, if not to death then at least senseless, until she had made him back down.

    There was also the question she had asked regarding his humanity… Humanity was an attribute lacking in Hun fighters. The only shred of it was the unspoken rule to leave homesteaders alone. Everything else was considered sport. He remembered a few of them arranging heads in a pyramid and asking which had the most surprised look on their faces.

    They didn’t know to what extent Connolly’s Kingdom outnumbered them, some estimates were as much as four to one. All Garrett really knew was that his former comrades had always had plenty of bodies to play with after a fight. The simple fact was that Connollies didn’t have the same stomach for war as Gargantua’s host of sadist, psycho killers and there being more of them only made it worse because it meant Gargantua’s brutes had more victims, more opportunities to display their savagery. His own body count was twice as large as the average Hun’s but that was thanks to his gifts and most of them people he had killed had never known what had happened. At least he hoped so; who actually knew what it felt like to be shot in the head or heart? He had experienced pains that had only lasted a few seconds but had felt like hours; who was to say that in the instead that the heart or brain was critically damaged that the victim didn’t feel an eternity of agony? He didn’t feel pain like a normal person so would it be completely different for him?

    He would ask her about her branding. He was covered in innumerable scars, any one of which could have gotten infected and killed him, but he had paid little attention to. Having a piece of hot metal sear your skin had to be something you never forgot, something that made your forehead pulse and tremble from time to time. She didn’t cover it up so people wouldn’t know she was a Connolly, naïve she may have been but he didn’t believe for a second she thought it mattered it out here. She covered it out of habit, so that if she ever saw her reflection, she didn’t see the mark. Perhaps that was why she was out in the wilds, she had grown tired of seeing her scarred skin that declared she was the property of Connolly.

    Perhaps that made Fredrickson the most civilised faction. There were far fewer stories about his kind but perhaps that was to do with distance. Connollies he knew told their children stories about playing where they could be seen or they would be eaten by Hun raiders. Cannibalism was about the only thing those children didn’t have to fear. They had never raided that far north so the children of Fredrickson’s domain probably only heard tales of the savage Huns who killed their patrols and left their bodies in grotesque forms as a warning not to go south. That was at least factual.

    Musing on the trio of factions did not help him drift toward sleep. If anything it made him wonder how things might have been had he been born into one of the other two. He might never have become a fighter. His parents might have both still been alive and grumbling about their jobs. But for all he knew, his mutation might have gotten him killed at a young age out of fear among the other two. The Huns meanwhile didn’t so much accept mutants as embrace them, revel in them. It did however have a lot to do with the truly evil pleasure some of those more deformed men got out of having a pristine, pure human at their mercy. He could understand. When you were born with an ugly body and face and the entire world reeled in revulsion at the sight of both, it was normal to angry. Not so normal to find someone attractive and maim them until they were as twisted and broken as yourself. But he had seen it done… ignored it as it happened…

    But he had never joined in. Because as she had said, he had felt the compulsion to help good people. He had just never acted on it before, not until now. Not that he had something to prove, something he had to do; a desperate need for redemption. No amount of redemption would absolve him.

~~~~~~

    “No hard feelings?”

    Alice nodded at Brent but her response seemed weak compared to her companion. He regarded Brent with his golem gaze and made the much older man quake despite being only a teenager.

    “You did what any man should have done for his family. No more. No less.”

    Brent was as disconcerted by these words as she was. They belonged to someone far older.

    When they were back in the open, or back in the wastes at any rate, she had no hesitation in asking him about what he had said. “Did you mean that?”

    “Mean what?”

    “About Brent doing what any man should have done?”
    “Yes.”

    His laconic nature annoyed her. “Why?”

    “A man should protect his family. He should have been smarter about it though.”

    “Because you would never let me get hurt?” She asked impishly.

    He growled before replying. “He should never have tried to take my rifle while I was conscious. But if I wouldn’t harm him in his home, he couldn’t steal from me while I was in it. He should still have gotten me on my own, tried to catch me off guard… I wouldn’t have given up my rifle even if he had taken it. He couldn’t have killed me or you. Truly desperate.”

    “Do you think they’ll be alright?”
    “Sure… until the next group of raiders shows up. Maybe he’ll have the balls to frighten them off with his new weapons… I think Laine would. But that’s the thing about life out here-“

    “Harsh, cruel, brutal.” Alice sang, earning herself a foul look. “I know… be serious. Be scared.”

    “You should be.”

    “You don’t scare me.” He glanced at her, only glanced, and she flinched. “YOU scare me. Your stories don’t.”

    “You have to adapt.”

    “Adapt to what?”

    “Trust no one. Don’t trust the environment. Look at everything for what it can or can’t do for you.”

    “That’s just cold.”
    “Cold keeps you alive.”
    “What do I do for you?” She inquired.

    He said nothing, he didn’t even growl. That bothered her.

    It was quiet in the world today. It was dull and grey as ever and his glowering didn’t improve things. She never stopped wondering what went on in his head though what she came up with was never reassuring. It didn’t help knowing that he believed there were Huns after him, after them. There was no question what would happen to her if they found them. The question was what her companion would do to protect them.

    Her companion… it was ridiculous that they hadn’t shared names and she was forced to refer to him this way. But what was she to do? Just give her name? She had a feeling it might just piss him off. Perhaps remaining nameless was one of his survival rules.