The distance to Jere’s home was short, but caution would be necessary. Jere and Eevi would be out in the open at high noon. According to Eevi, the screamers weren’t quite as coordinated when the sun was out. They were easy to aggravate, she said, but there was something about the daytime that made them uncoordinated. More likely to bump into walls and trip over themselves. It all made little sense to Jere, but Eevi had survived thus far. He had no reason to distrust her judgment.
The two began their trek well after sunrise. Eevi and Jere lowered themselves back down into the ransacked tavern hall. Jere got a better look within. At least two dozen corpses lined amongst the broken tables and chairs. Jere recognized a few, such as Bolin and Rolf, two young recruits from the Guard Corps, even though their bodies ripped to shreds. He recoiled at the sight of the decapitated head of Scaffor, a beggar boy who had harassed Jere many times during his patrols. In the far corner of the room, he spotted the massive body of Kostya, the ruffian who he almost fought on the moon of Appo’s arrival. He was surrounded by ten screamers himself, many of their chests sliced open by massive gashes. It seemed the man from beyond the mountains had put up a fight. Jere made sure not to linger.
Jere and Eevi passed between several charred corpses that lined the streets. They were lucky, for it wasn’t uncommon for idle screamers to shuffle towards the tavern during the day. But they could still be hiding in any building, alley, or passageway.
Eevi hugged the edge of the street, making her way south. She leaned against the buildings, peering down alleyways before continuing onward. She motioned Jere to follow, nodding towards the tight path that led to Jere’s home. Jere crept behind, cradling the knife Eevi provided him. It didn’t provide much confidence, as the simple utensil made of baked clay was more appropriate for slicing bread than for self-defense. It would shatter if he used it at all.
As the two walked, they became aware of occasional screeches that echoed in the distance. There were certainly screamers packed in the buildings around them. It dawned on Jere that if he could hear the screamers, they could hear him just as easily. He made sure to tread as quietly as possible.
Jere’s home was one of several tiny places packed together in a single complex. The rooms were so small that few considered it liveable space. They each had doors though, which provided the complex a single luxury. Jere recognized his room, as his broken door was missing a hinge.
Eevi went through first, holding out her crossbow as she pushed her way through. As she peered over the room, her posture gradually relaxed as she realized no screamers were crammed inside. The two let themselves in.
After Eevi shut the broken door behind them, she took another look around. All she could see was a mattress and a pile of clothes.
“Looters get to it already?” Eevi whispered.
“Untouched.”
“How depressing.”
Before Eevi could criticize Jere for the waste of time, he lifted his beddings revealing his collection of knives and scimitars. Juddken’s goons made many mistakes that night, so it was no surprise that they didn’t think to search his home any further.
As Jere supplied himself with weaponry, he dropped Eevi’s knife, its clay blade cracking in two upon hitting the ground. Jere shot Eevi an annoyed glare.
Eevi shrugged. “Just trying to make you feel safe.”
Jere gave himself his sharpest scimitar and two small knives, passing a third to Eevi for a backup. He then turned to his pile of clothes, putting on his Corps armor. It felt big and a little heavier on him than before, but it still fit. It had always been a little snug in the past. The armor was thin, but his gauntlets and breastplate would repel any errant scratchings. More than anything, he felt relieved to be wearing proper clothes again.
Eevi motioned to continue on. Every careless second spent outside would be a risk. Jere obliged. He decided against one last look at the place he had called his home for so long. He wouldn’t miss it.
The two continued down the alley. Eevi led the way, slowly aiming her crossbow down each corner with anticipation. At any moment a screamer could launch itself out of the shadows. Jere wondered why they stowed themselves away during the day. He knew from personal experience that even the slightest noise sent them into a frenzy, so why not light? Maybe that was why so many clawed out their own eyes. He wondered what they saw that made them scream.
The northwest quadrant of the city lent much cover to the two. Settlements were crammed together haphazardly, a far cry from the interlocking grid of Main Street or the spacious bungalows of the east side. As the two crossed in front of buildings, Jere finally caught a glimpse of Ash Manor. He paused for a few seconds before continuing as he knew to stay hidden from view. But those few seconds were enough to convince him why Eevi avoided the place. Smoke billowed from the center of the Manor, rising high into the barren sky and casting the palace in a dusty haze. On each side of the Manor hung what appeared to be at least two human-like figures. Both were coated in a dark crimson color, their blood stained down the walls in a cape-like shape that faded into the ground.
Jere had no other words to describe it. It felt wrong being this close. They continued onward.
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Eevi led down a path between two closely spaced buildings. Jere recognized them, as he had guarded that corner many times prior. On his right was Shimsusa’s perfume shop, and on the left was one of Urash’s spice houses. He would’ve known where he was without eyes, for he could smell the abhorrent mixture from a distance. Regardless, Jere followed into the tight corridor. The walls pressed tightly into his stomach, the armor gently scraping as he passed. He was fortunate to have lost some weight.
A bellowing shriek halted the two’s progress. They stopped, trapped in the enclosed space. Not even two meters from them, a screamer limbered in the street. It obscured the light for a moment, though it had not seen them. It would take only the slightest bit of noise to change that.
Main street was no longer an option. They were completely exposed here.
Eevi held two fingers to her lips before pointing to the spice house beside them. An opening, a wide squared window obscured by curtains, greeted the two. After a moment of hesitation, Eevi lifted up the curtain and peered inside. She had no room to check it with her crossbow this time. Satisfied, she quietly leaned over the edge and pushed herself into the building. Jere followed after her.
The spice was so overwhelming that Jere immediately shut his eyes. It was an unbearable sweet smell of pepper and sugarcane, conjuring images of lonely middle-aged men chasing women half their age back to their barren homes.
Eevi crouched in front of Jere, slowly making her way forward. Rays of light pierced their way through the boarded windows of the spice house, illuminating the particles of ash dancing through the air. The screamer continued to croak on the other side of the windows, blocking the light as it lumbered outside. It hadn’t seen them in the alleyway, at least not yet.
The brown ash was unbearable to the senses. Jere felt a rising air in his stomach and bit down on his wrist to suffocate his desire to sneeze. He had never used the spice itself, but he knew that one only needed a handful to experience its full effect. Many on the Corps claimed that brown ash made lovemaking far more pleasurable than otherwise. Many of the old and rich were addicted to the stuff. Jere wasn’t sure what was true, but he needed to be focused. Being forced to crouch with an erection surely wouldn’t help.
Eevi grabbed Jere’s arm. He had been sitting there for some time. Jere’s eyes could barely see through the tears in his eyes, but at that moment an electric shock ran up his body. He had never appreciated Eevi’s face before. Maybe it was the lighting, the heightened sense of danger, or perhaps even his lack of human contact over the many moons, but Jere was struck. Eevi was certainly an unconventional beauty with her facial scar withstanding, but she was gorgeous nevertheless. Jere had never realized that her eyes were a bright amber. He was transfixed.
“The fuck are you doing?” Eevi whispered. “You’re going to get us killed.”
“Shit,” thought Jere. His thinking was jumbled. The spice was more potent than he thought. He shook his head, doing his best to ignore any more impure thoughts.
The spice house was long but not wide. Jere figured the two must have taken a turn through the storeroom. Outside appeared to be the display area. But it was completely exposed, covered only by a tarp and a few tent poles. As the two continued, another silhouette emerged from the other end of the hallway. There were two screamers now. They weren’t inside, and Jere couldn’t see an easy way for them to get inside the storage room. Unfortunately, that meant there was no easy way to get out either. Jere was holding his breath now, both as a fear of being heard and a fear of inhaling more of the spice.
Jere stopped. He had reached the other end of the building. There was no window on this side. They would have to turn back around. He only hoped that they could keep thinking straight and not attract the screamers inside.
“Psst.” Eevi was on his left. Jere struggled to see her through the lack of light and the spice particles, but he could barely make out a ladder. It led up the way to the roof of the building. It made sense that the previous owners would need to fumigate a room with so much concentrated ash. Jere sat against the wall as Eevi slowly made her way up, opening the covering above them. The room suddenly alit, Jere could see Eevi’s face once again. The skin on her face was so smooth, even over her scar. She had such prominent cheekbones, and those bold eyebrows…
“Get a hold of yourself, ignoramus… It’s the ash talking.”
Jere’s thoughts were interrupted by two shrieks from outside. The screamers were agitated and throwing their arms against the wall. Maybe they heard Eevi moving the cover, or perhaps they saw the light coming down from the opening. Whatever it was, Jere didn’t wait for them to follow. He scrambled up the ladder, staying low as Eevi pulled him up.
The two lay flat on the rooftop. The wall outcropping would at least keep them obscured there. At least here Jere wouldn’t have to breathe through any more Brown Ash. But that still left the screamers. They were searching for them now.
Jere placed his ear to the roof. The screamers were still agitated, but they were moving away from the storage room. Jere peered over the edge of the outcropping. He couldn’t quite see Main Street, but he could observe the display area with ease.
There were the two screamers, both young men. Each were shirtless and had scratched off much of their skin and hair. Jere had expected as much, but he hadn’t expected to see the Guards Corps as well. Four of them encircled the screamers, keeping them at a distance with lances. The screamers swiped at guards, scratching at the air near their faces. The screamers grimaced, as if the sunlight itself was painful. One guard lunged forward, bringing his lance into a screamer’s chest. The screamer gasped momentarily before collapsing to the attack. The other screamer charged, and the guard dropped his entrapped lance.
Before the screamer got too close, another guard stepped into its blindside and punched it in the head, knocking it off balance. The guard, a lanky bald man, then sliced his scimitar through the side of the screamer’s head. The screamer fell to the ground immediately. The bald guard stood tall over his victim, staring with intensity.
At first, Jere believed he was looking at Ipa: the guard who mocked him as he was being led to the cells. But on a second look, he realized the guard was indeed familiar, but not immediately recognizable. This guard’s head was shaved, not bald. His skin was cracked. His neck was covered by a scarf, an odd fashion choice for the desert heat, regardless of the changed circumstances.
Suddenly Jere realized who this guard was. If the man was taller and wearing gold chains he would look much like his father. It was Juddken Awil-Ishtar.