Clouds of Blood |9|
A serialised dystopian horror story.
|9|
“Dang, Cry! Watcha doin creepin’ up on me like that!” Colt screamed, jumping up on his feet with his knife pointed at Cry. The latter had emerged from the moonlit desert into the circle of light cast by Colt’s fire.
“Dang… Colt said, and gave a long whistle, “you…you good, man? I be thinkin’ them women had…”
Cry’s clothes were torn, bruises all over his face. He sat down staring into the fire silently. Colt didn’t ask anything. Instead, he searched his sack, and gave Cry a worn-out polyester T-shirt, and a pair of tattered jeans. The remains of an ancient civilization the nomads dug up in the desert. Cry nodded in gratitude. He didn’t eat or speak. He didn’t sleep all night. They walked on, while the sun tortured his tanned skin, and bleached his hair, until he tripped, and fell face down into the burning-hot sand.
“Hey, take it easy, man. Ain’t no good if you pass out. Here, have some,” Colt gave him his water flask. It still had a tiny bit of water left.
“It’s from the village?”
“Yeah.”
“I ain’t drinking that shit,” Cry retorted, getting up. He stumbled his way onward, every step harder than the previous one. Colt shrugged, and emptied the vessel.
Luckily, soon enough crimson clouds gathered above their heads. The air sizzled in tiny red droplets sprinkling from the sky. A wheezing high-pitch sound of the grinders accompanied the bloody rain like a foul thunder. The winds picked up; it was a storm of blood, and sand, hitting their faces. Colt yawped and cursed. Cry screamed his lungs out, he screamed like a mad man, howling with the winds. There was nowhere to hide. Colt curled into a ball, hiding his eyes from the sand, while Cry stood tall spreading his arms, yelling curses at the crimson clouds that birthed him into this dead world. He let the blood wash him clean, the sand scraped the last remains of the spider’s stench off his skin. The storm ended quickly. Afterward Cry stood with his mouth open, letting the bloody rain quench his thirst. Colt looked at him frowning but asked nothing.
***
They crossed the desert, returned to the fresh bushy jungle, heading back to their tribe. The last night of their journey had come.
“So, them women… what… do we still have contract for the seeding?” Colt asked cautiously, after the two had shared barely two words the whole day. The fire crackled, insects hummed, something rustled in the bushes but Colt was too busy asking his question, and Cry had been overtaken by his own thoughts all day.
“Yeah.”
“Alright…” Colt mumbled, fidgeting with his knife. “You go ahead, get some shut-eye, I’ll stand on guard first.”
Cry laid down to sleep. Exhausted though he was, he hadn’t been sleeping much. Every time his body slipped into sleep, the red eyes of the spider flashed before him, its jittery fingers crawling over Cry’s skin. He woke up sweaty, choking on his own heartbeat.
The same happened this time, only now Cry discovered Colt holding the knife to his throat.
A single second of Colt’s hesitation was enough for Cry to punch him as hard as he could. Colt fell backward, Cry was up, and on him, punching Colt’s face into a bloody pulp. Dark rage fuelled his fists, Colt didn’t get to say a word. When he stopped moving, Cry got off of him, and walked away into the darkness, until a moaning sound, and a low growl reached his ears.
Cry turned back to see a large wild mutt pulling Colt away from the light of the dying embers.
“Help…Cry…” Colt wailed.
Cry ran back, grabbed Colt’s knife. He fought the wild dog, stabbing wherever he could, the dark rage burned like black fire in Cry’s chest. The dark flame ignited by the spider.
“Damn… damn…” Colt sat up spitting blood, and gasping.
“Why?” Cry sat by him, catching his breath. The dead dog’s blood still warm on his hands.
“It’s… damn…Buck made me. He said…you’re a good for nothin’ piece of meat.”
“Am I?”
“No. Dang it! You ain’t nothin’ like Buck says. You ain’t dumb. And… thanks, man.”
“The mutt was old. You would’ve spilled its guts easily if I hadn’t beaten you up,” Cry said coldly.
“You beat me up good, didn’t ya?” Colt said grinning, afterward both burst out in raspy laughter. “You’ll do good when the seeding fights begin.” Colt added.
Cry smiled in the dark. Maya’s perfect eyes, Maya’s nude breasts, covered by glass beads, Maya’s slender hips danced into his memory.
Colt is a huge liability so much so the inexperienced Cry is on his own and also needs to worry about the companion that was sent with him might kill him off? I now wnat Cry to give the sage and father figure back at the men's camp holy heck for sending him out there with that moron. The father figure should have held somthing of value over Buck to have him take Cry instead and return. They could have fought for and with each other the whole way out and back. Which could be practice for the mating duel. The trip back seems more intence then the trip to the women's camp. Did they take another rout? Nice job you got me hooked! I'm vaction and catching up on stack reads! Going to next section! Hooray!
This was really good! Great writing that keeps the readers engaged. Now I’ll have to check out the previous chapters. Keep writing, fellow writer!