Clouds of Blood |6|
A serialised dystopian horror story
Previously |1|. |2|. |3|. |4|. |5|
|6|
“The good life, this is the good life…” Colt rejoiced lying by the fire with his belly full of meat. It had been a bloody day, the clouds were more generous than ever; vomiting blood, and clone body parts onto the land Cry and Colt were crossing. Both men walked without stopping, their shabby clothes soaked in blood, but their stride was quick, and their steps cheerful because they knew the dinner was going to be rich.
They set camp as soon as the clouds moved away, revealing the starry sky, and the moon rising above them. Colt gobbled up the meat viciously; one never knew when they’ll have a good meal. Cry joined him less enthusiastically; he mostly ate wild fruit they found on their way.
The fire roared, both men lay looking up at the stars.
“You ain’t eating meat, cuz it’s your people’s?” Colt asked straightforwardly.
“It ain’t right. You, Buck, the men, and even Shamani would’ve eaten me, if I’d fallen down dead.”
“Well…damn…” Colt said, “sure thing, but you lived. That gotta mean something.”
“Shamani says, I was sent by the Beyond, but I don’t…What is the Beyond? I don’t believe there’s something out there, other than us, and the clouds of blood.”
Suddenly Colt laughed.
“You talks just like Buck. If he hadn’t told me to…” Colt’s laughter went quiet. His face grew deadly serious, Colt held on to the hilt of his knife, murmuring to himself.
“Maybe he’s right. He’ll be the next Shamani, no matter what the Beyond whispers. Shamani is old. The men say he’s hearing things,” Cry said bitterly.
“You ain’t as dumb as Buck says you are,” Colt replied after a short pause, both men looked at each other, and burst out in hearty laughter.
***
The next day was hot, and dry as a day in the desert could be. The jungle retreated, giving way to a vast patch of golden sand dunes. Both men were strong, and used to hardships, yet a day like this could put a strong man to his knees. By the evening Colt stumbled his way onward, tripping over sand dunes, cussing, and murmuring.
“Dang, dang it!” he yelled, trying to squeeze the last drop of water from his flask.
“Here,” Cry gave him his own water vessel, a dirty plastic bottle he found months ago. It was useful during longer travels. Cry had been using water sparingly.
“You sure?” Colt asked but grabbed the bottle nevertheless, gulping the mouthful of water left in it.
“We better find them damn women soon,” Colt barely finished, when an arrow pierced the sand next to his left foot. He yawped from fright.
Cry saw two silhouettes kneeling, and observing them from the top of a high sand dune. Those were not men. Cry’s sharp vision saw soft curves, where men had firm muscles, and softer features; beardless and somewhat gentle.
One of the women drew an arrow, aiming at his heart. Their eyes locked. Cry had never seen eyes shaped so perfectly, shining like two black coals amidst her smooth tawny skin. Strands of black hair swayed touched by the wind, she brushed them from her face with a move so graceful, a man could never make.
She hesitated, looking into Cry’s blue eyes; of course, his pale skin, and beardless face made him very different from any other creature she had ever seen.
“Cry, them women’ll kill us if we don’t hide, they ain’t searching for men for seeding!” Colt whispered, but before he ran off, Cry raised his arms, and said,
“Greetings. We come in peace. We only have our huntin’ knifes with us. Our Shamani sent us to speak about the seeding. If you are in need of children, we have a contract.” Cry’s loud voice went quiet. The women whispered to each other.
The one aiming at Cry stood up straight. He swallowed hard at the sight of her curvy frame, though skinny, she was shaped differently than a man. And when she spoke, her voice was soft like the sand rustling in the wind.
“We’ll ask our Grand Mother. She’ll know. You wait here. Don’t follow. There’s more archers ahead. They will not warn you, like we did.”
Before the two women disappeared behind the sand dune, she glanced back at Cry.
Colt spat on the sand, pulling the arrow out of it.
“Warn us? Hah! She missed. Them gals ain’t no good archers, that’s what Buck says,” Colt chuckled, examining the arrow.
Cry stood unmoved by Colt’s fooling around, he kept looking at the sand dune long after the women had left.