Wanderer: Exodus 2

Haynes ducked back out of sight.

Okay. That may have been the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

Noah considered the implications of the scene on the plain as he tasted bile. Who were those people? Why were they there? How did they get there? Were the candidates like Noah? Did they come as a group? Were there other people there?

I won’t find any answers here. Time to move.

Noah risked one last peek over the ridge. The fighting had died down. Rags that might have once been similar to Noah’s clothing lay bloodstained on the ground. He couldn’t see the bodies. Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to. The devils started to disperse. Most headed towards the mouth of the valley plain. A few clusters of nightmares headed back towards the ridge. Back towards Noah.

Noah moved away from the ridge and walked around the other edges of the plateau, looking down. He saw an outcropping that looked like it might conceal him. He started to descend. Under the outcropping he found a small cave. Providence had smiled. Noah slid into the cave and hoped nobody was home. The opening was only two feet wide, and the cave narrowed as it angled down into the cliff. It was dark, but it was dry and unoccupied, and anything coming down the cliff should miss it completely. Unless they were looking for it. Unless they lived there.

Several sharp stones broke off from the cave walls as Noah climbed into his hole. He noticed this mostly because he broke them off with his shins. When he reached the bottom he collected a few of the stones. A couple looked like they’d make good tools. One felt especially good in his hand. If felt almost like a real knife.

I’m in a cave in the middle of unfamiliar enemy territory, and I’m happy I found a rock. I need to take a long hard look at my afterlife when I get out of here.

Noah half stood, half lay a few yards from the mouth of the cave. The walls at the bottom didn’t seem to hold any recesses or passages.

He heard scrabbling and rocks falling along the cliff. It sounded like several somethings were climbing down the cliff. A silhouette passed the cave. Noah tensed, holding his knife-rock like a blade. A second devil passed. Noah sat in the dark, one shadow among many. A tiny, frightened shadow clutching a pitiful weapon. Several terror-filled moments passed. The world was silent. Then came the sound of claws on stone. A triangular head appeared at the mouth of the cave. The bestial devil chattered with a mouth that was all teeth, then hurled itself into the rock burrow. It hurtled towards Noah like a hellish missile.

Haynes reacted without thinking. He crouched down and then lunged towards the creature. His empty hand shot forward and grabbed the thing by the side of the head and slammed it into the cave wall. A vicious stab pierced one eye and went into its brain. His assailant went limp.

Noah held in his hands the corpse of a weasel the size of a German shepherd. The fur was a rich purple where it wasn’t stained blue with blood. The same blood that stained Noah’s hands.

Noah was an accomplished close combatant. He had trained in several martial arts in high school. In the marines he’d been the best unarmed fighter in his platoon, and no one snuck up on him while he was holding a knife. In a few years he could have been teaching unarmed combat at a police academy. But he’d never killed anything with his bare hands before. He expected to feel nauseous, or horrified, or at least shocked. Instead Noah only felt a new sense of determination. This world held many horrors. But those horrors were made of flesh and bone. They knew pain, and they knew death. Haynes would bring these nightmares both.