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This Forsaken World

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Eleven: Broken

Stumbling through the brush in a southernly direction, Grey abandons the tiny boat which so staunchly carried him downriver. Avoiding the denser swampland, he moves slowly, even over the dry ground. The silence is broken by the cacophony of wildlife, which teems around him. Chirping crickets and strange grunts and hoots would normally unnerve the lone human, but wandering through the wilderness at night, using only his compact Energizer flashlight to guide him, he feels nothing. The pain of Monica's loss is so overwhelming that he cannot even feel fear over the tangible threats that surround him. Grey has broken, in heart, spirit and mind.

Though the bleeding seems to have subsided, Grey's own health isn't even at the back of his mind. Poor Grey doesn't even bother to check his crude denim bandages, leaving the fabric caked in his rancid blood. He'd also completely forgotten about the Cobray CM-11 rifle that he'd given Monica, leaving it in the inferno of the manor. He barely remembered to collect Monica's M1936 style musette bag, half-full of their supplies, from the bottom of the boat; he'd almost abandoned it, simply because it reminded him of her. The only artifact of hers that he's saved is her bed roll.

Sometime during the middle of the night, when he could no longer stomach the agony and take another step, he lay out the bed roll on a patch of dry, barren soil. Building a little campfire, he lay in Monica's bed roll, finding several of her furs. The fabric smells of his lost love. It's the only comfort he's had since her passing. Lying on the bed roll and staring at the fire, Grey's mind wanders. He can almost feel Monica's arms wrapped around his torso, clinging so lovingly to him. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath, remember her natural, feminine scent as he'd hold her, aided by the remnants provided by the fabric.

He tries to remember her smiling face, but his memories are tainted; they torture him with the horrifying visage of her corpse. He trembles at the vision, opening his eyes and staring into the fire once more. Perhaps if he stares long enough, the flames will cleanse his retinas of the grotesque and heartbreaking picture? For nearly three months they've traveled together, seeing each other morning, noon and night. For nearly half of that time, they'd planned a life together, and Monica had recently shown the telltale signs of pregnancy. All of those days and all of those plans, but now she's gone.

Broken by grief, the tears stream over his nose. Grey weeps like a frightened child, more alone than he's ever been. Not even the voice comes to his aid, the one companion he'd thought he could always count on. The lonely and broken man spends his first night alone, struggling to sleep. What little rest he attains is plagued with nightmares, terrifying visions of failure, pain and the life he wanted but will never be. Whenever he can shake the horror of his loss, he's haunted by the evil he unleashed upon those who were responsible for her death.

Such fear he saw in the little girl's silver eyes as she gazed up at the man who'd killed most of her family, for reasons she didn't know. Waking up to a cold firepit and the chirping of birds, he looks into the sky, seeing the sun already near its zenith. The aching pain in his side is nothing compared to the sorrow in his heart, and the fear of what he is; the loss unleashed a man that he'd hidden away after being chosen by the voice. He'd thought it was all over, that the voice would guide him and protect him, as it had been, yet agony stalks him like a ravenous beast. Turning his gaze upon the sky, he wipes his eyes with his forearm.

"Why is this happening?! What's going on?! Please!" He calls out.

He receives no answer.

“Where did you go?! I just need to understand!"

"Everything that's happened is because my words were not heeded..." The voice suddenly begins.

Grey's breath is stolen as the words begin to echo in his mind.

"You found the children in Becker's boat; another was meant to rescue them. I corrected this error by sending you to Helen, where they could wait in safety. I've allowed Monica to return to me because you both strayed; you wandered into the swamps to save time, fearing starvation and dehydration; I would have led you to more supplies. Did you truly believe I would allow you to die while still serving my purpose? Furthermore, Monica was never meant to be yours; I have other plans for you. You and Monica were only meant to accompany each other for a time.

_ _

Had you left her in Helen, as I'd instructed, she would've been released. Realizing that you'd left her behind, she'd have remained in Helen and resented you. After giving birth to your son, whom she was carrying, she would've loved him. She would've raised him to be a good and honorable man, and in time, I'd have found use for him."

Grey, flabbergasted, stares into the sky. This is the explanation that he'd always wanted but never had. Why did the voice not see fit to explain these things before?

"I know your heart. Most don't hear me as you have; they're guided only by the dreams I give them or the subtle changes of those around them, when I speak through them. You've heard my words, and had I revealed the plan in detail, you would've faltered. Could you have ever walked away from Monica, knowing the pain in her heart and feeling it in yours? Could you have walked away from your son, knowing that he would grow up mistakenly believing that you never cared? Could you shoulder such a burden and focus on my plan?

_ _

I tell you only what you need to know, to guide you to where you're supposed to be... Allowing Monica to return to me was not how this was meant to occur, but such is free will, a gift I've given everyone. However, you were never meant to return for blood. Vengeance in not yours... You have disappointed me by killing the family in anger, and now I must take care of the children you've orphaned. You've strayed too far. If I see that you're ready to listen, I will call upon you..."

“W-wait..." Grey struggles to speak as he stands to his feet. “Please! What's your plan?! Where am I going?!"

The voice doesn't answer. Calling out again, he's treated only to the sounds of nature. With a hard cough, the pain in his side spikes, dropping him to his knees. He succumbs to his emotions, made worse by the revelation that this may all be his fault. It takes him some time before he's collected enough to think. Sitting atop the bed roll and facing the long dead fire, he ponders the voice's words, and his time with Monica. They'd shared a short but potent love, and though she's gone, she cared for him. She loved the man he'd become with the aid of the voice, not the man he was, who so coldly annihilated the backwater family and torched their manor in her name.

Though she may be dead, she wouldn't want him to succumb; not to the evil festering in his pained heart or to the wounds he's sustained. If their roles were reversed, Monica would press on and try to make a life for herself and her son. She'd raise him to honor his father. After a long ponderance, he decides to do what he can to make her proud; Grey decides to keep going. Whatever the plan was, it required him to head south, so south he'll go. Collecting his belongings and opening a small can of food, Grey eats on the move, slowly making his way out of the swamps.

“Mom? Hey, mom? Where are you?" Augustine calls out.

Wandering through the tower lofts of Searchlight, Augustine is still learning the layout. They'd only reached the small city the day before yesterday, and everything is still new to her. As they'd hoped, and as April had said, Searchlight was the beacon of the old world. Constructed for the miners, it was not a large city, but the pre-collapse tech and many of the structures and their furnishings are remarkably intact. To everyone's surprise and elation, many of the homes, and even some stores, contained supplies that were unmolested by the hands of raiders.

April's nameless tribe of nearly three hundred souls now has a permanent home and enough weapons, ammunition and foodstuffs to last them for a year or more. The abundance of wild game makes Searchlight even more viable, but all of this pale in comparison to their most recent find. The soil that'd been imported to stave off the increasingly expanding Okefenokee swampland is rich in nutrients. Many wild edibles grow there, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her tribe to create a hundred acres of useable farmland with a bit of effort. For all of this, April's people love and admire her, grateful that she'd brought them to such a wonderful land.

April, however, seemed despondent. Even as they discovered the salvageable medical clinic, a place where several of her people could prove invaluable, she showed little joy. The few who understand medicine, such as Havana, now work on reopening the clinic. Meanwhile, others focus on organizing their stockpile, such as Maya and Quaid, while those with farming experience, such as Kindle, focus on clearing and seeding the field. April is another story. For reasons that she's never explained, she has sent groups of men to scout the area. By her order, they search for anything they can find of use, including survivors not belonging to Mama Fi's Coalition of Families.

Some would like to ask her why she doesn't keep more of her soldiers close to Searchlight. In the world they live in, it wouldn't take much for another group to decide that it's a viable target. Few have pre-collapse structures protecting them from the elements, and fewer still have the luxury of plentiful food. However, April is rarely seen in public. She'd kept to herself more after Rodge's failed attempt to seduce her, but since arriving in Searchlight, she hasn't left the tower lofts. Only Tyson, her second in command, moves in and out to ferry her orders for her. Even Augustine sometimes struggles to find April in the luxury loft apartment that encompasses the top floor.

“Mom?" Augustine calls out. “Are you here?"

Leaving an exercise room, she enters the massive living room. Augustine's shoes thump on the genuine hardwood floor. Her clawed hands glide over the armrest of an antiquated looking couch. Upholstered in faded red velvet and with mahogany feet that look like animal paws, it's more comfortable than any bed she's ever slept in, and it's nothing compared to what awaits her in her new room. Continuing through the living room, the pre-teen girl turns her head and stares outside, peering through the tall, arched windows just behind the couch. Without a single broken pane of glass, the mint windows reveal the pristine pavement, five stories below.

Exiting the living room, she searches a dining room, then the large kitchen, a walk-in cupboard and several other rooms. Where has her mother gone? Having already checked nearly a dozen rooms, including two of the three bedrooms, one of which she's in, she's left perplexed. As Augustine turns to leave the bedroom and continue her search, she suddenly hears a noise. A whimpering comes from a bathroom. Why would April be in the bathroom? They haven't figured out how to turn on the water or power yet. Creeping closer, she can hear the subdued crying of her mother. Pushing open the door, she peeks her head into the darkened room.

“Mom? Are you in here?"

“Just a minute, sweetheart!" April calls out, her voice shaking.

Emerging from a shower stall in the bathroom, she passes through a beam of blue light that streams in through a high window, the only source of illumination. Drawing near to her daughter, it's apparent to Augustine that her mother has been crying.

“What is it?" April asks.

“... Are you okay?"

“I'm fine!" Her mother retorts. “I was just... Thinking." She sniffles.

“Oh... Well, I found something you might like!"

“Really?"

“Mhm!" Augustine nods, her pigtails bouncing. “Come on!"

Taking her mother by the hand, Augustine leads her mom through the bedroom and into the hall. Traversing the sprawling penthouse, she pulls April into a truly impressive room. April, who hadn't done much exploring since they claimed the loft, stares in awe at the sight. One side of the room is lined with unbroken windows, while the other is entirely made of bookshelves. An ornate and expensive wooden desk and a black wingback chair with decorative brass buttons sits at the far wall. Though the windows are grimy, as many of them are from decades of neglect, it reveals more than enough daylight to see.

“It looks like that library we found a month ago, except not torn up!" Augustine chirps.

Racing for a bookshelf, she finds a wealth of both knowledge and entertainment. April can't help but smile as she watches her daughter scanning with wide, sapphire eyes at the various spines that bear the book's titles. Roughly twelve years old, Augustine is already so much like her mother. At four feet and ten inches tall, with a slender build of barely eighty-five pounds, April might as well be looking at herself at that age. Looks aside, both women have a fondness for books, and are fascinated by history, especially of the world before The Ending.

Though she'd always cared for Augustine in her own way, it wasn't until Grey appeared that April had put a concerted effort into raising and really getting to know her own daughter. The almost three months on the road have made up for much of that time, and the two are closer than they've ever been. Still, April doesn't feel connected enough to really share her feelings with her spawn. Taking a book from the shelf, Augustine's eyes light up. She turns to her mother, taking a breath, but before she can speak there's a knock on the door to the staircase.

Glancing back for a moment, April's eyes return to her daughter, whose pointy, feline ears slump forward. Her brow is soft and her tail hangs limply behind her, the tip caressing the ground. The girl's disappointment is obvious.

“April? It's me!" Tyson exclaims, entering with a key. “I'm all done with my reports!"

“I hope so." April says, stepping into the hall.

“Hey, boss!" He chirps.

Augustine emerges, her hands empty as she'd returned the book to the shelf. She glares at the red fox Voeldahn, crossing her arms before her chest.

“Hey there! How's it going?" He turns to the girl.

“You're interrupting..." Augustine pouts.

“I'm sorry, but I've got important stuff to discuss with your mom."

“I sure hope so." Augustine sighs.

Chuckling, April drapes an arm over her daughter's shoulders.

“Give us a minute, alright?"

“Fine..."

“We'll be quick." Tyson assure her.

“You'd better." Augustine grumbles.

Walking past Tyson, Augustine brushes past him quite rudely as she heads for her chosen bedroom.

“I'm really starting to see the family resemblance." He quips, watching the girl.

Turning back and approaching April, Tyson takes note of the somber look on her face.

“... Are you okay?" He quietly asks.

“I'm fine..." April sniffles and sighs. “What've you got for me?"

“Here."

Handing her a little stack of notebook paper, she flips through his scribbled notes.

“You expect me to read these fucking chicken scratches?" She snickers.

“Yes."

Looking up from the papers, her lips are twisted in visible annoyance. With narrowed eyes, she silently demands her minion's report. Taking the papers back, Tyson flips through each page while verbally listing all of the work that's been done. He informs her of the progress on the clinic, which is nearly ready to accept their first patients, and reveals the efforts of the team in charge of cataloging their stockpile. He returns the paper that reveals their inventory. Even the field already has a few acres cleared and ready for seeding.

“Well, at least it's all good news." April remarks.

“For now! So, what's my next assignment?"

“Take a crew and check on the scouts. Start with the furthest and work your way back home. It shouldn't be hard to find their camps, all things considered."

“Sending me out to the wolves already?!" He chuckles.

“Did you hear me stutter?" She sternly asks.

“No... I'll get right on it."

“Good."

Pausing, Tyson looks away and stares at the floor, though he doesn't leave. It's as though he's lost in thought.

“Well?!"

“I know whatever's bothering you isn't my business, but if you ever feel the need, you can always order me to listen to you; I wouldn't mind." He speaks in a warm tone.

“Get out." April softly chuckles, cracking a faint smile.

Nodding his head, he takes a step back.

“Just a thought. I'll get my crew together and leave right away. You should hear back from me in a couple of days!" He chirps.

Taking his leave, April is left standing alone. With her hands on her hips, she shakes her head, still wearing a little smile on her face. Why would she ever appoint such a soft and considerate man like Tyson to help her lead a tribe consisting of hardened scavengers, ex-Travelers and “reformed" raiders? Leaning against the wall, her pain returns. She knows the answer; in many ways, he reminds her of Grey. With another little sniffle, April leaves the room to check on her daughter. She swiftly finds her, lying back on her bed and silently pouting.

“Sweetheart?" April asks.

“Yeah?"

“Want to show me those books? We can find that one you picked up and read it together."

“Okay!" Augustine chirps.

Leaping from her bed, Augustine races for the study with her mother in tow. Maybe spending more quality time with her daughter will take her mind off of things? Hopefully when Tyson returns, he'll have the news she's hoping for, and then she won't be depressed anymore.

“Oh, look! More moss! Oh, and some mud! This place is so nice!" Kane facetiously exclaims.

“Damn, this fucking shit is everywhere." Damian grumbles.

“Shut up." Kane growls.

“Hey, you were complaining too!" Damian retorts.

“Yeah, but I do it comically. Keep bitching like that and I'll find a new use for your mouth." Kane smirks.

“I always knew there was something about you..." Damian teases.

“Alright, alright! Both of you shut the fuck up! You're getting on my nerves..." Rodge Rock sighs.

Wading through the swamp, Rodge and his crew of seven men head north, as per April's orders. Other scout teams went northeast and northwest, into areas that contained far more dry land, but Rodge and his men find themselves consistently trudging through the muck.

“I blame all of this on you, just so you know." Kane suddenly remarks.

“What'd I do?!" Rodge looks to his best friend.

“If you weren't trying to fuck April so hard, we might have an easier assignment."

“Yeah, I do feel like this is a punishment. She hasn't even let you near her since she put you in the dirt." Damian can't help but laugh.

“Who the fuck asked you?!" Rodge growls.

“Hey, it's the truth though! We're waist deep in shit, eels are trying to swim up my pants to mate with my anaconda, and none of this started until you went for it. We're just saying!"

“Well, just don't. We've got our orders, and with a place as good as Searchlight, I'd like to carry them out and get back to it... Man, I should've just raped and enslaved April when I had the chance." Rodge sighs as he daydreams.

“Hey, it's never too late! We could always go home and take over!" Kane chuckles.

“You're just saying that because you want dibs on her daughter, you sick f-"

“What's that?!" Kane spins around, aiming his pistol.

“What's what?" Rodge grumbles, annoyed by the interruption.

“I saw something out there! ... I fucking hate these swamps..."

“It's not even dark, you fucking pussy! Relax!" Rodge laughs.

“I think he's been drinking the swamp water." Damian teases.

“It's not funny, assholes! What if it's one of those redneck fucks?" Kane asks, the muscular canine Voeldahn's voice shaking.

“Afraid they'll pin you down and make you squeal?" Rodge laughs.

“Fuck you!"

Dismissing Kane's fears, they continue on. Walking a little further, they see a patch of dry land in the distance. Heading for the respite of the little isle, they stop when they hear a sudden crack. Freezing in place, Rodge and his six men draw their weapons, looking around the swamp. A thump startles Damian, who swiftly spins around, only to see a floating log bobbing near the surface. It had bumped into a tree as it flowed along the gentle current.

“Heh... And you guys thought I was jumpy." Kane murmurs, turning around to continue the walk. “AHH!!!"

Kane falls backward into the water with a loud splash, startling the others. Spinning around, all but Rodge jump back from the sudden shock. With their weapons pointed, Damian and Rodge help Kane up from the fetid water.

“I fucking... Told you..." Kane coughs up some swamp water.

Standing between two thin trees that jut out from the swamp is a long-haired human with light-brown hair, a long goatee, bluish eyes and pale skin. Using the tree to his right for support, the man is covered in a layer of dirt and grime. His chest is bare, with the exception of straps from a small, earth brown backpack of archaic design, and a filthy, black hooded jacket that's tied around his waist. A black military pistol belt holds several pouches and a holstered sidearm. The shreds of his purple t-shirt cover a portion of his right side and are caked with blood.

With his head hanging down but eyes upturned, he stares at the six Voeldahn and the dark-skinned Rodge as if they weren't even there. The glazed, even menacing look on the man's face causes a dysphoria among the scouts. Rodge eyes the human, the only other of his kind that he's seen in a long time. Should he be brought back, that would make him the second in April's tribe.

“Man, he looks dead." A scout remarks.

The pale human slowly turns his head, responding to the sound.

“You got a name?" Damian asks.

The man blinks, his breathing consistently labored. He apparently attempts to nod, but his head doesn't rise.

“Whatever." Rodge sighs, holstering his gun.

Wading through the water and approaching the man, Rodge quickly disarms the disoriented human, who moves slowly, as if he's half asleep.

“We'll set up on that little island over there." Rodge points ahead of them.

“So, we're done for the day?" Damian asks.

“Sure. It's getting late anyway. Let's get him tied to that tree, until we know who the hell he is." Rodge demands. “We'll interrogate him after I've had dinner. I know how much you love that part, Kane."

“Hell yeah!" Kane grins, cracking his knuckles as he joins Rodge.