Brian and Danny had settled the common room and cut most of the lights, leaving only a few on so those that chose not to get more rest could work. The whispered voices rushed quietly around, creating a soft background noise to their own hushed conversation.

“It’s lucky she’s unharmed,” Danny said as he cracked his knuckles. “She could have tripped and been attacked so easily.” Brian didn’t reply. He knew he needed to tell his second in command that they had a dangerous new addition to their collective but Brian dreaded Danny’s dismissive denial. He was such an optimistic fellow, despite all they had endured.

“Lucky,” Brian repeated finally. “Danny,” he stopped and cleared his throat, giving himself some more time to think. “Look, some strange stuff happened in that tunnel.” Danny waited and folded his arms across his massive chest.

“There was a huge raven.” Brian let his words sink in but the big man merely shrugged.

“So?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird to have an abnormally large raven fifteen, twenty feet down a subterranean tunnel?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a bird scientist. Besides, the world is kind of messed up right now.”

“It’s bizarre, Dan,” Brian insisted. His friend just shrugged and brought his mouth down with a dismissive shake of his head.

“Maybe it was chased in by the imps, then.” Brian considered Danny’s suggestion, wondering if it was possible.

“And then there was this big painting of black bird wings.”

“So maybe birds have been using the tunnels and ruins for scavenging or nesting. People would have noticed and maybe someone was bored and painted some wings. The tunnels are so old, Brian, and others have been here.” He rapped his knuckles on Brian’s found treasure, the desk between them. Danny raised his eyebrows, inviting Brian to see his point. “There’s a belfry left up there. I bet they nest up there now.”

“Ok, but there was a pile of ash below that painting that looked like demon ash.” Danny shrugged again.

“The imps probably tried coming down that tunnel, too. One must have died on the way. We don’t know any way to kill them except silver and that was a chance discovery.” Danny plucked at his lucky necklace, a thick chain of silver with a huge sterling cross pendant. He yanked it out of his shirt and let it lay on his chest, the red stone in the centre of it glittering nearly black in the dim light.

Brian thought about the day that Danny dubbed his necklace lucky. They had been engaged in very close combat with a couple of imps, at the time just trying to maim them enough to slow them down so the two humans could get away. One of the imps had grabbed Danny, hooked his necklace and accidentally choked him with it. In a blind panic, Danny wrapped his fist around the chain, the pendant laid across his knuckles, and punched the small demon. The gemmed cross tore through its wing and it disintegrated into a pile of charred ash. From that day on, they had used silver to defend themselves from the imps.

It was then that Brian had begun keeping his journal entries that detailed each encounter with the monsters. He wrote everything he could remember and summarized his knowledge in a section that detailed weaknesses, strengths, things to be wary of, clues to identifying the dangers of each kind of demon they came across, as well as any hypothesis that he would test when he got the chance.

“Danny, she told me the imps were after her. That they were here because of her.” Brian broke the silence between them suddenly, needing to hear the words aloud.

“She spoke to you?” Danny asked, his bushy brows rising again.

“No, I asked if she was trying to draw them away from us and she nodded.”

“Well, that’s very brave and very stupid of her but doesn’t really prove–”

“Danny, I asked her point-blank if the monsters were here because of her.”

“And?”

“She didn’t answer but–”

“Didn’t that kid, Rory, say they’d been harried for a couple days? Didn’t they all say they were being tracked?”

“That could be proving my point, Dan! Damn it, stop trying to be so positive and look at it from my point of view. Try to see it through my eyes! I have all these lives on my shoulders and if she’s a risk…” He let the sentence hang, hoping the other would fill it in for him.

“Fine, let’s say they are chasing her. You want to just kick her out? Send her on her way alone?”

“No, of course not,” Brian said, irritated that Danny would call his bluff. “But, we need to know where she’s from so we can get her back to her people. The longer she’s with us, the worse it’s going to be. Mark my words.”

“Ok, let’s go talk to Rory and see what we can find out about her. Let’s get her to her people.”

“What if she doesn’t have any people left?” It was a night of asking questions that Brian already knew the answers to and he shook his head slowly, angry at his lack of control over his choices as his friend gave him a helpless look. “Yeah, I know. Then we are her people. I know.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

After Brian had bid Danny good night again, he lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He wanted to try to get a couple hours of rest before tackling his most pressing and annoying issue, Ana.

He wouldn’t make her fend for herself, that was just cruel. But if she had people she belonged with, he wanted to make sure she got to them as quickly as possible. He was determined to separate his people from this potential danger.

Sleep was elusive and Brian was up a half hour later. He washed his face in the plastic tub on a stack of wooden crates in his small quarters then looked into the cracked mirror hung on the cavern wall above his makeshift basin. As he carefully shaved his face, he ran over the facts he had about the girl so far. Mute, alone, interesting in appearance, claiming to be older than the cataclysm. The list was short and raised more questions than it answered.

He rinsed his razor and wiped his face dry with a small square of crispy, dingy terry cloth he kept beside the tub. He felt like a better, more confident man now that he was shaven. The cool air of the cavern felt fresh on his face and woke him a little.

The man looking back in the cracked mirror was stretched too thin, though. Atop this new problem, he had dozens of mouths to feed, dozens of bodies to clothe, dozens of people to maintain. He decided he would delegate more of his responsibilities so he could focus on Ana.

Brian spoke to a few of his more trustworthy people, assigning them various tasks such as overseeing the darning of clothing and organising small hunting parties when the sun came up. Foragers would be sent into the woods at high noon to avoid any chance of demons hiding the shadows. Satisfied that his day to day worries were temporarily taken care of, he headed to the kitchen area of their living space.

Rory, the leader of the newcomers, was fitting in well with the small group of cooks that supported the community’s food needs. He was very good at taking the minimal portions of scavenged vegetables and the little game they got and making it go further. Brian found him kneading dough on a large, floured wooden board laid across two short stacks of boxes.

“Bread?” Brian asked in greeting. Rory looked up and smiled thinly.

“Flatbread. There’s not much dry yeast for good bread and I’m trying to get a sourdough culture started for it.”

“Where’d you learn to bake? You’re not much older than the Cataclysm.” Rory looked at Brian, frowning in confusion.

“Books, obviously. You don’t read?”

Brian laughed. “I read, don’t worry. I was just wondering if someone taught you.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think there’s anyone left who knows a lot of this stuff.”

“There is.” Brian disagreed. “You’re alive.”

Rory gave him a weak half smile and shrugged as he began tearing small pieces off the larger dough ball.

“The book stores and libraries near Manchester were the best place to hide. No food in there so people avoided them. But the knowledge in them might be worth more than food itself, I always thought.”

“Manchester where you came from, then?”

“Yeah, my dad died a few years ago so I was finally able to leave. Headed north and met with a small band. Couple years after that, I was their leader after breaking up a dispute about how to divvy up food. The other guy said the older men and women deserve less. He was trying to starve Sylvie so she’d fall behind and be one less thing to worry about.” Rory wiped his sweaty brow with a floured forearm, leaving a white baker’s mark across his face.

“How’d you settle that dispute?”

“I killed him in his sleep.” Rory didn’t even look up, but continued to roll the balls in silence.

“I’m sorry you had to–”

“Don’t. We’ve all made choices we aren’t proud of but were necessary in the moment. He was older, bigger and meaner than me. I’d never have won in a fair fight.”

“Right,” Brian agreed. “Makes sense to me.” Brian wondered if Rory told him that story as a warning or was simply unloading his emotional baggage for the first time.

“I’m happy here with you guys,” Rory said, seeming to realize that he had just told the leader of his new group that he had murdered the leader of a previous one. “I have food, a place to sleep, a use for my skills. I can’t ask for more these days.”

“True,” Brian said. “That’s all I want for my people, too. To provide them with what they need to survive.” He let the silence sit between them for a beat before adding “You think everyone else in your party is happy?”

Rory rolled the dough balls in his hands, quick and practised movements.

“You want to know about the girl.”

“I do, yes. She’s…interesting.”

“My previous band called ‘em ‘abominations,’” Rory said quietly.

“I don’t think–”

“She is. Or worse,” Rory interrupted. “The monsters are drawn to her. No matter what we did, what precautions we took, nightfall came and so did they.” Brian waited silently for the wiry man to continue. “They were picking off the rest of us, whittling us away but leaving her untouched. They would try to grab at her or pull on her hair or clothes. But the small ones never spit venom on her and the bat-faced ones never tried to bite her.”

Brian thought for a moment, putting this information into the already gleaned knowledge he had of the girl.

“Do you think they were trying to take her?”

“I don’t know. I was just trying to get her as far north as possible.”

“Why north?” Brian asked, confused.

“Sylvie said she wanted to go north. Into Scotland.” Rory floured the board again and began to roll the balls into uniform flat discs, stacking them with a bit of flour between each one.

“How does Sylvie know what she wants?” Brian had been wondering this since they had arrived.

The tall, thin man pursed his lips and looked at Brian. Finally he shook his head in what appeared to be resolution. “She talks to the old woman when she thinks no one is around. I heard them once.”

“Why would she pretend to be mute then?” Brian was becoming annoyed. If the girl could just answer his damn questions, why wouldn’t she?

“I don’t know. She only ever talks to Sylvie, though. And only when they think they can’t be heard.”

“They must hate this cavern,” Brian said wryly. Rory smiled in response, hearing the echoes of conversations bounce around them.

“I’m glad she’s your problem and not mine anymore.”

“Anything else you can tell me about her?” Brian sighed.

“When she came to us, she was in rags. She had a heavy tarp draped around her and wouldn’t let anyone but Sylvie touch her. I had them take the clothes off some corpses and dress her. She refused food but accepted water and our shelter. She was shy of me and the other man. When she saw your friend coming to fight off the bleeders, she seemed to…I don’t know. Her expression changed from pained to frightened. Maybe awed. She looked nervous.”

“Danny?” Brian frowned and nodded his thanks to the young man. “Keep up the good work and I welcome you readily into our fold.”

As he walked away he wondered what Danny could have to do with the dangerous girl they had in their midst.