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This Forsaken World

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Eight: Searchlight

Sitting in her wagon and with Augustine by her side, April looks to an old street sign. Riddled with old bullet holes, the faded paint of the sheet metal reads “Welcome to Florida The Sunshine State". It's been a long trip, with over a month of routine marching. In that time, April's caravan has swelled. Every straggler they've found was taken in, and the few raiders they've found, her tribe killed all but the weakest, who were then assimilated by force. Upon reaching the state where she believes Grey is heading, her tribe now numbers nearly three hundred, over ten times what it was when she left Coalton.

“Is this the one, April?"

Shifting in her seat, the white tigress Voeldahn looks back at Rodge Rock, the dreadlocked, dark-skinned human whom she saved. Her black pigtails sway gently in the breeze and she flashes a little smile, nodding her head once.

“Well, you picked a good one!" Rodge smiles back. “Where too, now? I'm sure you've got a town circled in those maps."

“Er... Yeah... We'll head in a few more miles and set up camp. Where we're going is still a bit further." She replies.

April is lying; she has no idea where to go next. She's been wracking her brain for any details, but all she knew was “south". As the last of the old states from before The Ending, and the state furthest from Coalton when heading directly south, Florida seemed to be the logical choice. In all the time they've been traveling, her fervor to find Grey hasn't weakened in the least; recurring nightmares about him in danger or suffering have only made her more determined. He told her to heed her dreams, after all, and so she is. Continuing on, her mules pull the wagon as she thinks back on her nightmares, hoping for any landmark that she can use to find a specific town.

After marching for a little over an hour, the sun begins to swing toward the western horizon. With only several hours left in the day, her tribe needs that time to find enough land and raise their camp. Walking openly along the interstate, a feat that only groups of their size can undertake, they find a large slab of broken concrete in the distance, sitting before a building of considerable size and bland architecture. Following the off ramp, which is only partially intact, they move their wagons cautiously over the precarious bridge. Nearing the old building, the weeds run through the cracks in the cement, choking the manmade slab that was once a parking lot.

April turns her sapphire eyes toward the structure, gazing upon the old building with wonderment. The sign, damaged and falling apart, reads “W...l...rt". She's seen many buildings nearly identical to this one, and in every state she's traversed, though this example has the most intact exterior sign. Who owned these large, empty buildings, and what were they once for? What where their names? Not one even had floor tiles left within them, and the signs were often smashed, possibly by rioters during The Ending. All they are now are massive, empty structures with concrete floors, and roofs to shield them.

With clear skies overhead and no clouds in the distance, April is certain they won't need to shelter inside of the structure. She's quite thankful for this; many aren't safe to use, due to the failing architecture, an inevitable result of neglect. The few that are still sturdy tend to have severe mold problems. Looking to her daughter, she can't help but smile. Augustine eyes the building in kind, her vibrant blue eyes as wide as saucers and her mouth agape.

“I wonder what these were!" She exclaims.

“Me too."

“It's so big!"

“Setting up here?" Rodge suddenly interjects.

“Yeah. Line the wagons, set up the tents and put together shifts. I'm not taking any chances in new territory." April instructs.

“Right away!"

Leaning back in her seat, April extends her arms, arching her back as she stretches. Rodge pause, glancing over his shoulder as he takes in her elegant form. His dark brown eyes enjoy every curve of her feminine beauty, from her perfectly proportioned shoulders, her full, C-cup breasts, the tops of which peek out of her new bodysuit, her slender waist, noticeable hips, and even her toned legs. Her feline tail sways gracefully behind a firm buttocks. Rodge was amazed when he first discovered her age, realizing that April, at thirty-two, is nearly a decade older than him; her soft, Voeldahn facial features and exquisite body, still built like a teenager's, is awe inspiring.

Augustine, April's pre-teen daughter, adjusts one of her pigtails as her mother stretches beside her. Her shifting head adjusts her gaze and the girl quickly spots the human ogling her mother from her peripheral vision. A blue eye swiftly turns, focusing on him. Realizing that he's been caught, he immediately walks away, pretending that he hasn't been staring at his leader.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?" April asks, looking at her daughter who seems to stare intently.

“Nothing, mom." Augustine softly replies.

Walking down the line, Rodge taps the wagons that follow behind, passing them and giving each driver a one-word command. The family in the closest wagon doesn't bat an eye at Rodge's obvious lust for April; the first wagons are the oldest, and these people have been witnessing his distant infatuation for weeks on end. Parking the wagons, Rodge collects his crew of scouts, finding his friends Damian and Kane among them. As the highest-level soldiers in April's tribe, they oversee the construction of the camp, which the caravan has turned into an artform.

Before dusk, not even two hours after stopping, the wagons are unpacked and most of the tents are raised. Their simple camp furniture is already being carefully arranged by the families who dwell within. Sitting around a large fire that night, one of several that they build near the center of their temporary home, Rodge spends time with his friends.

“Man, did you see Havana today?" Kane asks.

“Hell yeah, I did!" Damian exuberantly replies.

“Ever since she tossed those drab Traveler's robes and started wearing the clothes we've been finding... Shit..." Kane sighs, his mind wandering.

“If that little mouse wasn't such a prude, the thing's I'd do to her." Damian remarks. “What do you think, Rodge?"

“She's alright." He shrugs.

“Alright?! She's a fucking goddess, man!" Damian gasps.

“What about Maya?" A random scout asks.

“She's married to Quaid, that horse guy she's always with." Kane replies.

“Yeah. Makes you wonder, though. Either she's made of rubber, or he's tiny as fuck for his breed." Damian laughs.

“But she's hot, isn't she?" The scout asks, as if hoping for validation.

“She's hot, yeah, but she's not stacked like Havana. God, the shit I'd do to her... And those big tits..." Damian sighs.

“Makes you wonder how this crew would be if April wasn't running it." Kane comments.

“Careful, man." Damian scolds him.

“What?"

“You know not to talk shit about April with Rodge Rock around." Damian smirks.

“You're still trying to get that pussy, huh?" Kane turns to the unusually quiet Rodge.

“Shut up..." Rodge grumbles.

“Give it up man. She's never gonna fuck you." Damian adds.

“All you guys talk about is 'sex this' and 'pussy that'! ... There's more to it than that, man..." Rodge swiftly retorts.

“... Like what?"

“Pfft." Rodge snickers.

Glancing around at his compatriots, the human can see that the Voeldahn don't seem to understand. Shaking his head, the scowling man takes a deep breath.

“Well, of course, April's hot; I notice it when I see her. I'd fuck her brains out as fast as the next man, but I want more than that. I wouldn't be done after one time, or even ten." He begins.

“Do you love her or something?" Kane raises a brow.

“I want her. I want all of her." Rodge continues.

“Sooo, is that a yes?" Kane presses.

“What do you think? She's built like a goddess and has all this power, but she doesn't wield it like some spoiled kid. She can be soft, but she's hardened; who isn't in this world? In fact, I think that's kind of sexy."

“We're not hearing 'yes'." Damian teases him.

“I want her for my own. I want her body, I want her heart, I want her mind... I'd want her soul too, if there was such a thing. She's the ultimate prize, the greatest trophy I could ever attain, and I'll polish her and show her off daily when I get her." Rodge answers with a sinister grin.

“Yeah, there's no deep seeded issues there..." Kane murmurs.

While cooking food in the fire, Rodge and his friends continue to share anecdotes about places they've been and scavenged. They laugh over past encounters with other groups while scouting, some of whom they'd brutalized. As they eat their dinner and entertain each other, Rodge suddenly stops. Kane asks a question, which is left unanswered. Turning toward Rodge, he finds the human staring into the distance. Following his gaze, his friends are unsurprised to find that his focus has shifted entirely onto April, who stands with some of the original members of her tribe, Havana and Kindle, two of the four Travelers.

After exchanging words, Havana and Kindle nod their heads and take their leave. April stands alone and looks toward the sky, her clawed hands resting on her hips. Rising from his spot, Rodge suddenly approaches her. Damian and Kane glance at each other, wondering what their friend is doing.

“Hey!" The human greets April warmly.

“Oh, hi, Rodge." April turns her head toward him.

“What's going on?" He casually asks.

“I just sent Havana and Kindle on a little errand for me. Nothing special, really."

“I didn't mean that." He says, leaning against a nearby wagon.

“Oh?"

“What's going on with you? How're you doing?"

“I'm fine. Just felt like taking a walk; seeing how everyone's doing." She answers.

“How thoughtful of you." Rodge grins.

“Yeah... Well, you have a good night." April says, taking a step back.

Turning her back and walking away from him, Rodge is quick to follow her. Their increased distance from the group prevents Damian, Kane, and the other scouts, from eavesdropping; unable to hear what's being said, they're left with only visual clues. Stepping around her, Rodge intentionally blocks her path. Though her back is turned, her posture speaks volumes. Crossing her arms before her chest, she looks up at the taller, younger human. Speaking with a warm smile, he reaches out, resting his hand upon her shoulder. April is quick to brush him away. Rodge briefly appears frustrated, only to swiftly regain his composure.

Sidestepping to move around him, they watch the two from the side. April's brow furls and her eyelids narrow as she glares at the human. She shakes her head, speaking words that they cannot hear. Is she scolding him? Rodge appears to apologize, yet he clandestinely attempts to touch her once again, his hand inching toward her slender waist. Replying to whatever he's said, April doesn't seem to notice his motions as her snout tilts upward at him. Speaking softly, Rodge touches April's side. She grips his forearm, pushes his hand away and takes a step back, in one fluid motion.

With her back against a nearby wagon, April cannot retreat any further. Damian, Kane and the other scouts watch in awe as Rodge seems to corner her. April's hand shakes, her gaze locked onto his as Rodge leans closer, attempting to steal a kiss. None of them can believe their eyes as Rodge appears to seduce her in front of them. As his lips hover over hers, his hand once again rests on her side. He gives her a little squeeze. Suddenly, she grabs his throat, extends a boot and shoves. Throwing him off balance, the men rise to their feet as April drops Rodge into the dirt.

“Don't you ever fucking touch me! How many times do I have to tell you?! I'm! Not! Interested!" She shouts.

Her angry scowl, clenched fist and gritted teeth reveal her true feelings; one hand grips the handle of her Micro Uzi. She's attempted to control her rage, tolerating Rodge's incessant flirtations and advances to the best of her ability. Perhaps by not being more forceful, she's misled him into believing that he stood a chance? It's been a difficult matter for her; acting in a manner that Grey would approve of. She often struggles to control her own, often violent impulses, but she wants to be good. When she finds Grey, she wants him to be pleased with her. Rodge, however, has pushed his luck and found the limits of her patience.

“You keep your hands to yourself, kid, or I'll cut them off and shove them up your ass..."

Releasing the pistol grip of her weapon, April takes a step back, only to spin around and storm off. The scouts can't help but snicker as Rodge suffers from the very public humiliation, slowing rising from the ground. The stunned look on his face makes it clear to them; he never expected her to reject him, especially in such a harsh manner. Kane approaches Rodge as he sits in the grass, staring in shock. The Voeldahn's leg comes into view, snapping the human out of his trance.

“Well... I guess that settles it!" Kane chuckles, holding out a hand to his friend.

“What?" Rodge asks as he's pulled up from the ground.

“That was about as obvious a 'get lost' as I've ever seen. She wouldn't fuck you with someone else's pussy!" Kane laughs.

Rodge feels himself flushing, the anger and humiliation burning him like a fire, scarring his ego. Looking around, he can see that all of his friends and over a dozen random tribesmen and women have witnessed his humiliation.

“You gonna give up, now?" Damian smirks.

“Come on, man. There's plenty more women around here these days." Kane says, draping an arm over Rodge's shoulder.

“Fuck you..."

Pushing his arm away, Rodge takes off, swiftly walking away from the group and into the darkness of the camp.

“Rodge? Hey, Rodge! Don't be a little bitch! Come back!" Kane laughs.

Storming through the camp, he heads for a particular wagon. Walking around the back of the wagon, he pushes a tarp out of the way, bottles clanking as he rummages around.

“Who the hell is-" A guard begins. “Oh, Rodge! ... What're you doing?"

“I need this..." He growls, collecting a few bottles.

“Hey, you know the rules: alcohol is for emergency use only."

Turning toward him, Rodge draws his weathered Browning Hi-Power, the barrel pointing towards his feet as he cocks the hammer with his thumb.

“... I guess someone must be hurt, huh?" The guard audibly gulps. “I'll just... Leave you to it."

“Good..."

Lowering the hammer, Rodge holsters his weapon. Turning back to the wagon, he collects two bottles of distilled alcohol, which has been watered down for use as a topical antiseptic. With a bottle in each hand, he walks through the camp, passing dozens of citizens who spend time with their families and amongst friends. Leaving the safety of the camp, he walks into the grassy field, between the old interstate and the parking lot where they've made their camp. Sitting in the tall grass, he sets a bottle down before opening one and taking a swig. The burn of the alcohol running down his throat is almost as powerful as his rage.

“Rejecting me... Dumb fucking bitch. How the hell could she reject me?!" He speaks to himself, taking another swig. “She clearly doesn't know how good I am yet. I'm a better man than any in that whole damn camp!" He pauses to drink some more. “I can be better than anyone else. I stopped those guys from raping Carol, I found her all that ammo, and I fought for her against all those raiders on the way down here... 'I don't need you in my life, just my tribe' she says. She doesn't know what she needs! What the fuck is she thinking?!"

Sitting in her tent, alone, April looks over her various maps of Florida. Scanning the parchment, she attempts to look for any image that's vaguely familiar to her, hoping to spot something, anything that she's seen in her dreams. However, she struggles to even recall the dreams that brought them there, distracted by Rodge's arrogance and persistence.

“Asshole!" She suddenly growls, slamming her fist atop the folding table. “Telling me I need him... That it's okay to need him... Who the fuck does he think he is?! Putting his hands on me... Trying to kiss me like that in front of everyone, like I was his! I should've blown his god damned-"

“Mom?" Augustine suddenly enters.

“Hey, sweetheart."

April sits upright and turns her head, watching as the sleepy looking Augustine approaches her and wearing only her underclothes of panties and a tank top. Rubbing an eye, she blinks several times before staring at her mother, a worried expression on her face.

“Can I ask you something?"

“Momma's a little busy right now. Can it wait?"

“Please?" Augustine begs.

“... Alright."

Motioning to her daughter, the soft-spoken Augustine stands beside her folding chair. April slides an arm around Augustine's waist, holding her close.

“What's going on, sweetheart?"

“I had a bad dream."

“About what?"

“Rodge..." Augustine murmurs.

“Oh?"

“I dreamt that he killed me..."

“What?!" April's eyes grow wide.

“I dreamt that I was asleep in my tent, Rodge came in with a knife, stumbled toward my cot, and killed me while I slept."

Augustine's breath shivers and her sapphire eyes well with tears. The dream has clearly disturbed her. Wrapping her other arm around her daughter, April gives her a tight embrace, a gesture that Augustine returns. Both feel a warmth between them; April had never been much of a mother before, but after encountering Grey, and after Augustine impressed her with her willingness to stand up to her, April has made a genuine attempt to be a better parent. She rubs her daughter's back, feeling her trembling with fear. It's the kind of fear that April experienced when she was Augustine's age, and something that she'd never wish on any child, especially her own.

“It's alright, sweetheart. It was just a dream."

“It didn't feel like a dream. It hurt so much, mom... Please... Can I sleep here?"

Augustine rests her snout on her mother's collarbone, her clawed hands clinging to her biceps as she trembles. It tugs at April's heartstrings. Not knowing what else to do, April sighs.

“Alright... If it'll make you feel better."

“Thanks, mom!" Augustine hugs her tightly.

Unable to finish working, and already somewhat tired herself, April remains clothed in her bodysuit, climbing into her oversized cot with her daughter. April is forced to relocate several firearms that lay strewn about her cot, moving them onto the folding table, which she drags closer to the simple bed. Taking one pistol in particular, April pauses. Clutching the weapon, her brow softens and her lips curl into a faint and somehow sad grin.

“... Mom?"

“Hm?"

“Are you okay?"

“I'm fine, sweetheart... Just thinking." April replies.

“Okay."

Lying back on the large, two-person cot, Augustine watches her mother intently. Sitting at the edge of the bed, April stares at the weapon for a moment, before slipping Grey's Kahr CT9 pistol beneath her pillow. Every night she does this, holding the weapon and thinking about the man she loves. Resting her head on the pillow, she can feel the subtle imprint of the firearm on the other side; it comforts her, but for entirely different reasons than the other weapons she owns. Pulling up a thin sheet to cover their bodies, Augustine rolls onto her side, her back facing her mother, who stares at the ceiling of her tent.

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, feeling the sleep slowly washing over her. A flash streaks her mind, as April begins to dream. Lightning streaks the sky and rain falls, slow at first but swiftly becoming a torrential downpour. Her vision floats through the air like a ghost, sweeping over the trees before suddenly diving through the branches. Looking down on Grey like an angel, or perhaps a demon, she witnesses him falling to his knees. Curling into a ball and with his back to the sky, he cries into the mud that oozes through his fingers. The putrescence of the swamp envelops him, his hair stringing from the rainfall.

Throwing his head back as he kneels in the filth, he cries out to the sky, and April, who watches him. His anguish is as evident as the sun or the stars, his pain palpable. April's heart breaks as she watches him suffer, blood streaking his hands and the mud around his legs. How she wishes she could comfort him; taking him into her arms and feeling his skin against her fur. To April's dismay, her vision backs through the overhanging branches, as if running from the man she so desires. As quickly as her dream revealed him, he's gone, replaced by the many trees of the swamp.

Further and further back she flees, her vision tilting toward the sky and resting on the soil. In the background is a large, manmade cavern. An old sign before the structure reads “Searchlight Mines". April bolts upright in her cot, roused from her sleep by the nightmare. The canvas of her large tent glows faintly from the moon and the stars outside. Swiftly collecting a rare and valuable flashlight, April gives it a few shakes, rousing Augustine from her sleep. Designed without a battery, the shaking of the flashlight generates a small charge to power the dim, LED bulb.

Turning on the flashlight, she looks at an old, mechanical clock that she keeps nearby. Still wound and ticking, the hands reveal that it's only three in the morning. With the dream fresh in her mind, April throws the thin sheet from her clothed body and rolls out of the cot.

“Mom?" A sleepy Augustine suddenly asks.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I just need to do something real quick." April instructs.

Taking a seat at her table, the light illuminates the fading images of her various maps. She scours for anything resembling “Searchlight Mines" in the state of Florida, her claws running along the paper and her eyes taking in every image very carefully. April suddenly freezes. Her mouth drops open as she stares at a portion of a tourist map, printed just before The Ending. She sits back in her seat, unable to believe what she's seeing.

“Constructed in 2039, Searchlight borders the Searchlight Mine, the only Coltan mine in the United States. Discovering the deposit in 2038, Searchlight Mine, owned by the Searchlight Mining Company and based out of Miami, harvests the highest quality Coltan; it rivals any other source on earth, giving the United States a solid export in our technology rich, global economy."

Beside the short paragraph is an image of the very mine she'd seen in her dreams, right down to the angle of the camera. Looking through her maps, she finds the location of Searchlight, nestled in the expanded Okefenokee swamp that straddles the Georgia-Florida border. Her breath shakes as she exhales, her eyes welling up from her elation. Finally, she'll have the chance to see Grey again; he's the entire reason she's dragged her tribe over hundreds of miles of terrain, throughout these past weeks. With her mind and heart at ease, she sets the flashlight aside and climbs back into her cot, lying beside her daughter.

Looking up at the ceiling, she suddenly has a horrifying thought. She's been searching through those maps for days; could she have seen the image of the mine and manufactured his location in her mind? Worry once again overcomes her, but April is quick to shake it off. Grey told her to heed her dreams, and he knew so much; things that he couldn't have known. Grey promised her that they'd see each other again. It's all that keeps her going. Rolling over, she takes Augustine into her arms, holding her daughter. Her mind continues to race, however. She almost chuckles at the thought of how Rodge will react to Grey. Opening her eyes, she wonders how he's handled her rejection.

Awakening during the night, Rodge finds himself lying on the floor of a strange tent. Sitting up, he glances at the empty second bottle of alcohol he'd stolen; the first is nowhere to be seen. Still quite intoxicated, it takes him a moment to recall what he's doing or where he is. With a headache already developing, he presses a hand against his forehead. A knife clenched in his fist startles him. Why is he holding his knife? As his mind slowly sobers up, he's horrified to realize where he is and why. He rises to his feet in Augustine's tent, sheathing the knife he'd intended to murder her with. Before he can leave, he pauses as he hears the creaking of a cot coming from a tent nearby.

“Mom?" Augustine's voice speaks softly in the tent next door.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I just need to do something real quick." April instructs.

“Fuck..." He whispers to himself.

Listening to April as she looks through papers at her table, he creeps toward the flap of Augustine's tent. He freezes, mentally smacking himself before looking back at the empty alcohol bottle he'd nearly left behind. Retrieving the bottle, he leaves no trace of his visit, slipping out of the tent and into the night, while April and Augustine sit only feet away in her mother's tent, blissfully unaware.