Ch. 17
The next morning, Elz proceeded as though nothing had changed. She needed more than a single restless night’s sleep to come to terms with what she had been told; and honestly, she wanted to talk about it… with Mat… but he was dead. It made her angry. It had taken her a long time to get over losing Mat and now, she felt like she had never known him, which felt like losing him all over again.
Still, life for her had to go on. Even if she was stuck with more questions and few answers, she had responsibilities if she wanted to continue to keep her daughter safe. Things to do, places to go and creatures to kill, and no Mat to help her carry the load. Just the Old Man, who she could not deny was helpful, but she didn’t always need a father figure, she needed her partner.
So she got up, stuffed her feelings down, made breakfast and got ready for training as she would on any other day. She could fake it ‘til she made it.
After training, they spent the day doing the stuff that made them happy. Elz familiarized herself with the upgrades to the house, while Trey and The Old Man continued to work on the garden— avoiding her in an effort to give her time to process. That evening, Elz made dinner while Man Xiong tended his tomato plant, then they watched another movie from her extensive DVD library.
When the movie was over, Trey turned to Elz. “Now, can you tell me how you met daddy?”
Elz sighed, there was no way to avoid this anymore. “Alright, get your blankets and popcorn.”
Trey wasted no time running into the bedroom and returning with a blanket, she snuggled up on the floor in the main room and Elz sat across from her with her back against the wall.
“It was a cave in the Himalayan mountains, and I was all alone…”
THE HIMALAYAS, 15 YEARS AGO
From a mountain cave hidden high up in the Himalayas a pair of tired brown eyes peered out into the sky around the mountains. The sight of the ominous black tornado still swirling in the air nearby drove her backwards to the protection of the craggy cavern. A solitary bird would occasionally break off from the large group of Chough, to dive towards the base of the mountain. All too soon, it would return to the flock, its body flowing back into the mass of black as they rode the wind currents.
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To the casual observer, the birds were behaving normally—the swirling mass was a familiar sight to anyone who’d ever spent time watching Avians. To the wary (and weary) girl taking refuge in the caves, it was a gathering of hunters… and she was the prey. She’d been trapped here for a full day, with no safe way down the mountain. Her climbing gear was long gone, the birds destroyed all her ropes during the attack, hoping to end her life. They had lost sight of her when she’d slipped into the cave, but they would not give up their vigil until her body lay broken at the base of the cliffs along with the others.
A noise from the back of the cavern pulled the Feeder from her thoughts. With one last look at the chough circling outside, she quietly made her way to the rear of the cave. Pausing frequently to listen, she walked the inner perimeter of the chamber. As she walked, she silently loaded a full clip into her weapon. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she sat back on her heels and waited, keeping an eye on the entrance to the cave as she repacked the first clip and checked on the tiny bombs in her pack. Finding “nothing" didn’t mean that she could relax. As a Feeder, you didn't live long if you ignored your senses or instincts. With the large flock of murderous birds outside, she could take no chances, and her instincts screamed that there was something going on inside the cave.
Moments later, she jerked to her feet as a small tremor shook the ground beneath her. She moved slowly, her gun gripped firmly on both hands, trying to gauge the source of the threat. As she moved, the tremors moved around her, almost intelligently seeming to avoid where she stood. Finally, she stopped moving. The low vibration grew louder until she could pinpoint its direction. She crouched and waited.
The rumble, now and audible sound, came at her from an opposite wall, growing closer like sound traveling down a subway tunnel. For a second, she had a memory of standing on a platform and peering into the darkness, her tiny hands grasped tightly in another's. With that came the thought that this must have been what trains sounded like in the days before the treaties.
The unwelcome memory was enough to distract her, so she was caught slightly off guard when the cave wall crumbled and a giant rodent came bursting through. The Feeder rolled out of its path, coming immediately to her knees a few feet away. She raised her weapon but did not fire when the rest of the mole's body cleared the opening. In his hind feet he clutched a make-shift pallet, the body of a human lying on it. The mole pulled the pallet against the cave wall, depositing it with surprising gentleness. Without acknowledging her, it sniffed its way to her pack and shoved its nose inside. Then just as quickly it turned away. Before she could react, it was digging again, disappearing into a new tunnel in the blink of an eye. The woman checked the burrow but the mole was gone, moving through the rock with the kind of speed and ease that was inherent to its kind.
The Feeder cursed, turning back to the man on the ground. Kneeling behind him, out of easy reach of his arms, she shifted her gun to her right hand and felt with her left for a pulse. It was weak but he was still alive. Satisfied that he was no danger to her, she holstered her weapon and checked his body for wounds. He was a mass of them; his clothes were shredded and gashes that could have only come from the sharp bills of the chough, furrowed his chest.
Ripping strips out of the already shredded clothing, the Feeder bound the man’s wounds. Her medical supplies lay at the base of the mountain with her slaughtered team. Only her weapons pack, which rarely left her back, had made it into the cave with her. After doing all she could with the remnants of his clothes, she abandoned the man and resumed her post at the mouth of the cave.
The sun was setting and the chough were abandoning their vigil. She watched as the tornado of feathers thinned and the birds dispersed. Some of the birds dove out of the funnel formation performing aerial rolls before gliding towards the walls of the mountain. Suddenly fearing the worst the woman ducked back into the cavern and did another quick perimeter walk.. There was no evidence of avian habitation—no loose feathers or droppings. Satisfied that she had not taken refuge in the enemy’s lair, she checked on the unconscious man before once again relaxing against the cave wall. Compulsively checking and rechecking her tiny arsenal, she muttered to her unconscious audience.
“Would’ve had a chance to make it out of here tonight, if I didn’t suddenly inherit you.”
There was no response.