Chapter 2
New Mexico
Sometime in April
Brir
The setting sun’s rays stung my eyes as I looked out to the horizon. The wild beauty of these lands was still captivating, even though I was tainted by the knowledge of what the humans had done to it. Their disregard for anything other than themselves was astounding, and yet, here I was, sharing their world, out of no choice of my own, but even I could see the beauty of this place. The land was dotted with desert flowers, cacti, and an odd mix of architecture inspired by different human cultures. It reminded me of the caves that my people had lived in. The pottery was very similar in its many colors of chipping paint that slowly fell away over time. There was something about this place—a raw beauty that tugged at your soul, refusing to let go. It reminded me of Pharia.
I missed our world. The air was different, and our world smelled sweeter than the atmosphere of this world. The plants were interesting to look at. Our trees were soft shades of blue compared to the harsh, bright green of the plants here. It was resonating energy, a harmonious blend of elements; it was home. A pang of longing surged within me at the thought of our cerulean forests, ethereal springs, and shimmering mountainside crystals—all lost to human greed. I hated Earth. Even the name of this planet was harsh on my tongue—grating, bleak, and undignified. Pharia rolled off the tongue.
But there wasn’t anywhere else for us to go. Arya, the last of the Ellids, had spent weeks trying to close the ruptures to no avail, even with her gifts. It was like something was holding them open. When we couldn’t survive any longer on Pharia, Arya traveled across the rupture and made a safe place for our people to go to. New Pharia.
Despite the desolation that surrounded me, there was a strange peace in the solitude—a stillness that allowed the anger and resentment to recede somewhat. Moments like these brought back memories of my childhood when humans hadn’t yet tainted our world.
I could still close my eyes and see myself running alongside my siblings through fields, still hearing our laughter echoing through valleys adorned with colorful flora. The feeling of diving into the crystalline waters of our cave home, the cool embrace wrapped around me as I explored underwater caverns filled with vibrant water plants and otherworldly creatures. But those were memories of a time that had ceased to exist—stolen from us by a race whose insatiable greed knew no bounds.
The collapse of our world was sudden and brutal, decimating our once-thriving population. One of the ruptures had opened up deep within the heart of the mountains, flattening them into rubble. It had been our home for generations. Only a tiny handful of my people survived the devastation, but the worst was yet to come. The site of the ruptures, surrounded by scorched earth and shattered rock, drew the life force from everything around it. Plants withered and died, the ground turned black and lifeless, and even the air became toxic. It spread like a disease, these gaping holes in our reality draining our world of its very essence. As weeks passed into months, it only grew worse. Those of us who dared to venture through the ruptures back to our world knew all too well what awaited us on the other side—a barren wasteland devoid of any signs of life or hope. Some creatures had evolved to thrive there but were far deadlier now than ever before. Our once-vibrant atmosphere was now poisoned and suffocating. This was our new reality—a desolate world on the brink of extinction.
I visited our world after the rupture to save something from our home, anything. I had brought plants and other things back, but most of the world had decayed. The ground was nothing but rock and gravel now. Nothing grew there anymore. All the energy of Pharia was siphoned into this world. Arya guessed that the human world was significantly damaged when the rupture happened. It blew a hole into our world and, very much like the path of a bullet, created a funnel for the energy to pour into the human world, healing this planet but killing our own.
She had thought the name was cute. I despised it.
???
I had just come from New Pharia in New Mexico before heading back to Colorado when I did my rounds with the traders. Colorado was where I had made my home, away from the noise of the city and the stench of humans.
Dune shook his head as I rode on his back, jerky hanging out of the corner of my mouth. His brown and tan scales were bright under the sun. He blended into the tall, dry grass we walked next to. He was a Lepot raised right here on Earth. Arya had a herd of them back in New Pharia, where Nidra raised creatures from our world.
My mind wandered back to Arya, her caring nature a stark contrast to the selfishness we had come to associate with our human counterparts, even though I knew our species had once been precisely like them. Arya loved humans. She thought they just needed to see how to evolve beyond killing each other. There was a kindness in her that seemed almost alien in this harsh world. Her dedication to protecting them baffled me; why did she care so much about a species that cared so little about anything else? Arya saw something in them that I couldn’t or maybe didn’t want to see.
I was thankful to have arrived at New Pharia when another of Arya’s appointed wanderers, Merrick, had already left for his territory rounds. We all had areas we were supposed to patrol for Arya. We were looking for survivors from Pharia. Or peaceful humans. I ignored these tasks. I wouldn’t spend more time with the humans than I had to. I didn’t need Merrick riding my ass about not living in the city, either. Or Arya’s constant lectures on how we needed to all band together during these times. I didn’t want to live in the city. I was used to living independently since I was banished from my village centuries ago.
If humans hadn’t destroyed my world, I would still be underground where my species should be. I may have been thrown out of my tribe, but I was still able to live under the mountain—not above it—in this harsh environment. My skin burned under the sun. I hated traveling during the day, but the humans were too scared to travel at night, and I needed to stop at the human trading post that was a day or so from New Pharia.
Moving out of the shadow of another building caused a disgusted sound to escape my lips as the sun of this world caused my eyes to squint from pain. I hated the daylight. Back in my world, the sun wasn’t as bright. The goggles I wore could only cut through so much of the harmful rays that caressed this world.
Trash blew across the ground in front of me and my mount. As we descended into a shallow valley, structures stood like skeletal remains, their decayed walls echoing tales of a once bustling community. The desert wind whistled through the empty doorways.
Desolation clung to the once-thriving town like a shroud. Plant life was taking back this place. Vines crept up buildings, and animals could be seen darting under abandoned vehicles. The air hung heavy with decay, the rotting wood and rusted metal stench permeating every corner. The pavement cracked beneath Dune’s clawed feet as I directed us north. Each step echoed in the eerie silence.
A growl echoed through the empty city, and Dune’s ears twitched, but we had traversed these lands enough times for me to know it was just one of the wasteland’s nocturnal creatures stirring.
Dune warbled a cry, drawing my attention back to my surroundings. We were nearing the human trading post.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, further hiding my features, I felt relief wash over me. The harsh daylight, with its blinding intensity, had continuously caused me discomfort. My eyes, adapted for the dark depths of the underground cities where I once dwelled, struggled to cope with the unforgiving surface light. Even with the second lens that could slide closed to protect them from the harsh sunlight. It was one of the reasons why I preferred to roam at night, my body and senses more attuned to the shadows.
“Finally,” I whispered, watching as twilight stretched its tendrils across the sky, the muted colors offering a respite from the day’s relentless glare.
The night brought with it an eerie calm. The only sounds were my Lepot’s footsteps, night insects singing, and the distant howls of unknown creatures.
I could still see the silhouette of buildings in the distance. It looked like a small town or a large settlement, with more sophisticated structures than the ones I had passed. There was a central building with an elevated platform, and scattered around it were smaller dwellings—typical of human design. I knew this place well. We always stopped at this small human settlement on the way back home. It was only a few days’ ride from our burrow. When I needed things I couldn’t find myself I came here to the trading post. These humans were not as horrible as the rest of them.
I detached the mask from Dune’s harness and put it on. The warm air inside was uncomfortable and made me wrinkle my nose at the strong leather smell. I pulled my long white hair back and tucked it away before drawing up the hood of my jacket. Not a single inch of my skin now showed.
My eyes scanned the horizon, seeking out any glimmer of danger. At the entrance to the settlement, I dismounted from Dune and grabbed his reins close to his mouth. He was an impressive creature.
Cautiously, I guided Dune through the few people that remained on the streets. I turned the beak of my mask towards a human who stared too long, and he turned away and walked faster down the street. Their ignorance astounded me. Keeping my hood up to shield my non-human features, I moved through the street as unobtrusively as possible.
A cloud of dust billowed around my boots as I approached the trader’s makeshift stall, the gritty particles swirling through the air. I knew it would have stung my nostrils if the mask hadn’t covered my face. The stall was cobbled together from a haphazard collection of metal sheets, mismatched wooden planks, and tattered fabric. It was a testament to the tenacity and resourcefulness required to discover an existence in this lonely world.
As I approached, the stall owner, a grizzled old man with leathery skin and hardened eyes, glanced up from a radio he looked like he was trying to repair. His gaze flickered over my hooded figure before returning to his wares without a word, the corners of his mouth twitching in an indifferent smirk. “Evening, Brir,” the trader grunted, not looking up again.
“Gunner,” I greeted the old man in a bored tone. The man stood just a few inches taller than my 6’2” form. I pulled out the pouch of seeds I always traded gunner for the goods he had and set them on the table where he was fiddling with the radio.
I took stock of what he had on display. Rust-crusted tools, bleached bones of unknown creatures that could be ground into medicinal potions, bits of scrap metal, and even a few stray books left over from the time before. One with a dragon on its cover caught my eye as it looked a lot like Arya in her beastly form.
I heard the old man sigh, which drew my attention back to him. I moved and saw him studying the broken radio.
“Your relay is backward,” I pointed at the problem, my voice making him visibly jump.
I watched as his jaw tightened before he turned his head just a little to glare at me.
“I think I would know if the relay was on backward,” he said before returning to work. I shrugged and moved away to pick out a few candles that I wanted.
It wasn’t moments later that I heard Gunner whisper, “damn it,” followed by the clicking sound of him turning the relay switch around correctly. The sound filtered through the old speaker when he clicked it back in correctly.
“This is a repeat broadcast from November 21st.”
MONSTER SYMPATHIZERS TAKE OVER
This caught my attention, and I turned my head to look at the radio as the broadcast continued.
On Tuesday, November 21st, ten years to the day after the rupture, a group of thousands took over an amusement park after raiding a military outpost. They are rumored to have taken hundreds of military-grade weapons and ammunition, writes Lisa Lyne, head journalist for the Sable newsroom. They are currently using those weapons to defend the abandoned amusement park.
The amusement park in Anaheim, California, was shut down after the rupture, but its 500-acre park can hold over 80,000 people. The people who organized this takeover call themselves the Harbingers.
Overnight, thousands of concrete barriers were erected around the two-block radius of the amusement park and California Adventure from Harbor Drive to Walnut Street and from Ball Rd to Katella Ave that closed in several abandoned hotels and the theme park itself. These barriers were taken from several abandoned construction yards all over the city. This extremely well-organized event happened within a few hours. Witnesses reported seeing people commandeer several military semi-trucks to load up the barriers surrounding the park.
I moved back to Gunner to ensure I listened to the broadcast properly. Gunner must have noticed me because he gestured to the radio.
“That’s been airing for months—just over and over,” he says as he puts the two halves of the radio back together.
When the transmission ended, static filled the air around us. The trader turned down the machine before he looked at what I held in my hands.
“Why would humans want the monsters in the city?” I asked him.
“Not all people believe the monsters are bad,” he replied, taking a candle from me.
“Weird.” I shrugged and set the other items I wanted next to him.
“You’re late, by the way. I was wondering if you just died out there,” Gunner added as he started adding more things to my usual order, his voice low and tired. My eyes darted to his sunken ones, peering out from beneath a weathered brown hat, his gaze sharp and calculating as he studied me.
“I always come here every few months. You know this,” I replied, my voice stern but not unkind. Unlike humans, I had manners. This man had done nothing to me, and it would be unwise for me to blame his species’ shortcomings on him. My fingers twitched with nervous energy as I surveyed the items before me. I hated being near humans.
“No, you always come here every eight weeks like clockwork. It’s been longer this time. I thought something happened to you,” Gunner said before he tried to reach out a hand to pat Dune but pulled it away suddenly when Dune’s teeth snapped at his fingertips.
“I tell you every time not to try to touch Dune. You never listen,” I scolded, my voice rolling with amusement. “And as you see, I’m fine.”
The trader huffed, but a glint in his eyes suggested he was amused, too.
“You’re going to lose a finger one day.” Rolling my eyes, I rested my elbow on Dune’s back to prop up my face on my closed fist.
The trader chuckled dryly, wringing his nearly bitten hand. “That you do, my friend,” he replied, his grizzled voice scratchy with laughter. He turned his gaze back towards me, my keen eyes catching the faint flicker of disappointment across his face as I shifted through the pile of items on his table. “I’m just waiting for the day that the beast loosens up and starts to like me,” the man said with a chuckle. “All animals love me.”
“That is unlikely to happen.”
We had had this back-and-forth greeting almost every time I stopped here. He was the only trader who talked to me, unlike the others who just wanted me to take my goods and leave. Dune unnerved most humans. They didn’t want to be around an animal his size that had talons, razor-sharp teeth, and that ate meat. Humans were meat, after all.
“Ah, don’t be so sure,” the trader replied with a chuckle, his eyes glinting with mischief and stubborn determination. “I’ve tamed wild beasts worse than your Lepot before.” He reached out again, roughened fingertips inches away from Dune’s snout.
“I’m not going to stop him from biting you next time.”
“Ehh.” He gestured with a hand. “You say that every time.”
I just rolled my eyes. I did say that every time. Dune snapped and hissed, but he knew better than to hurt the man. I would be angry if he did. I watched warily as Dune cocked his head to one side, eyeing the human’s hand suspiciously. A low growl rumbled from deep within his throat, but he made no move to snap at the trader this time. The trader inched closer, but Dune growled again and bared his teeth. Then he lunged for the hand. His teeth made an audible snap as he missed the human’s fingers. I snorted my laughter as I smiled and leaned my hip against the table, arms crossed over my chest.
Gunner shrugged nonchalantly. “A man has to have dreams, Brir. Goals. Or what is the point of living?”
I stifled a chuckle, shaking my head. “You should find a new dream, old man,” I muttered, returning my focus to the items before me. My gloved hands sifted through the odd collection of rusted odds and ends.
Movement caught my eye. A moment of something darting towards me that made my body stiffen.
“Mister,” a small voice said by my leg. A hand tugged on my jacket, and I saw a slight human youngling looking up at me. Her big brown eyes wide as she pulled on my coat. I tilted my head, looking at her, puzzled.
“Mister,” she repeated, her wide, innocent eyes staring into mine. A ragged headscarf barely contained her tangled hair, and a smudge of dirt on her cheek only emphasized the paleness of her skin in the twilight. I guessed she couldn’t have been more than five or six years—though I couldn’t tell human ages well—yet she held herself with a resilience that spoke volumes about the life she had led.
“Yes?” I responded curtly. I had no idea how to address the human youngling. My eyes flicked up a moment. The trader scowled at the youngling when he took notice of her.
“Sarah. Leave Brir alone.”
“It’s fine.” I waved him off. “What can I do for you, Sarah?” I repeated her name. Her name came out softer than when the trader had spoken it. I watched her small mouth move, but the sound didn’t seem to travel past her lips. I knelt at her level so I could hear her better. She seemed startled by the sudden attention, her eyes growing even wider. I watched the child swallow before she tried to speak again.
“My brother said you go into the big cities. Is that true?” The child waved a hand in a direction away from us. I followed the movement and saw a male youngling standing away from us in the street, his eyes shifting from me to the ground in front of his feet, hands shoved deep in his pockets. I watched the boy for a long moment before he shuffled away, hiding behind another trader's tent. I looked back at the little girl who had bravely approached me.
“Yes, it’s true. But only when it’s necessary.”
“Would you please bring back some medicine? My momma’s sick.” I could see the worry in her small face. The way her eyes darted back over her shoulder and the hard lines of her small jaw.
I turned my head towards the trader, looking for answers, but his gaze was fixed on the assortment of trinkets he was sorting. “It’s not as simple as that, kid,” he said, clearly irritated. “Medicine is hard to come by, even for Brir here.”
“But…” Sarah began, and I held up a hand to halt her argument. Her brows knitted together in confusion and worry. The tiny seeds of desperation were beginning to sprout in her young features.
“What’s wrong with her mother?” I asked Gunner. He crossed his arms over his chest, but I could see the sadness on his face. The way his jaw twitched and his eyes shifted away from me.
“Sarah’s mother got cut in the fields on something. It got infected. She is struggling.” The trader filled in for me as he crossed his large arms over his chest again. I could see the sadness in his eyes for the child.
I nodded, understanding why he seemed upset. Younglings out here wouldn’t make it very long without supervision. I felt for the little one. No matter the species, we looked after younglings. It was our way.
“I see,” I muttered, glancing down at Sarah. Her hopeful eyes pierced me in a way the biting winds of the wasteland never could. It was a silent plea, fraught with vulnerability and laced with an innocence that wasn’t meant for the cruel world we now inhabited.
I stood up to my full height, towering over the small youngling. She watched me move over to the saddlebags on Dune’s back and open one of the pockets. Digging inside, I pulled out one of the human medications Peter, the human physician in Pharia, always gave me when I returned to New Pharia so that I had some to treat sickness when I stopped at some of the settlements. I had several bottles in the bunker now, so I didn’t need these. Today, they have become valuable.
“Will these work?” I asked the trader, holding out the bottle for him to read. His grizzled face softened somewhat in surprise before he masked it with stoicism.
“Brir,” he muttered, “where the hell did you find Cipro?” He tried to reach for the bottle, but I pulled it back and wrapped my fingers tightly around it. “This is … this is high-grade shit. Where did you… “ He let the question hang in the air as he eyed the white tablets inside the bottle.
“Will it work?” I asked again, my voice tinted with irritation.
He glanced between me and the bottle. “Yes,” he finally said, “It’s a strong antibiotic. It should do the job.”
I looked down at Sarah again. Her eyes were bright with hope and uncertainty. “You must tell your mother to drink a lot of water with these, understood?” I repeated the instructions Peter had always told me about the medication.
The youngling nodded eagerly, her small hands reaching out. I let her take the bottle from my fingers. Her small hands just brushed my leather-clad fingertips.
“You and your brother take this right home. Tell your mother it was a gift. I hope she feels better.” I patted the top of her head. She started to turn but paused momentarily before holding a small hand towards me. Clutched in her tiny fingers was a small object. As I bent down to see it closer, I realized it was a small metal trinket. It showed a bird surrounded by fire.
“Found this … for you,” she stuttered, her big brown eyes glassy, her small face breaking into an endearing smile. “It’s … pretty.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” I carefully took the trinket from her hand and held the tiny metallic piece up to catch what little light still lingered from the traders’ lanterns.
The trader watched us wordlessly, his gaze unreadable as he stared at the girl’s small, huddled form. Sarah ran over to her brother, grabbed his hand, and pulled him down the mostly abandoned street.
“Do you know how much those are worth out here?” Gunner’s eyes followed the girl and her brother. “You could have had anything you wanted in this town.”
I shrugged, looking back at the trader. “And you know as well that I don’t want anything from this town,” I placed the trinket in my pocket.
He snorted, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re a strange one, Brir,” he commented, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand you.
I humphed before leaning my shoulder against the wall next to his stand. The trader always thought I snuck into the military-controlled zones to get the seeds. I didn’t. I didn’t need to. I was given most of them when I went to New Pharia. Arya made sure there were always things for trade when she sent us out. I didn’t stay in New Pharia long, even though Arya had built us a safe place to live. It didn’t feel right being around all those people.
He shook his head when I didn’t answer, still examining the seeds with avarice.
“You should consider sticking around, Brir,” he suggested, his gaze finally leaving the seeds to meet my stern gaze. “With your skills and these resources, you could have quite a life here.”
“I’ve told you before that I’m not interested,” I snapped back. His proposition was one I’d heard before and dismissed each time. Life in the towns was too complex, too entangled for me. “I don’t belong here.”
Gunner just shook his head in disbelief. “You’re rejecting warmth and comfort for a life of danger in the wilderness,” he mused more to himself than to me. “You are a riddle wrapped in an enigma.” I had no idea what that even meant.
“Save your advice for someone who cares, Gunner,” I growled. I was starting to lose my patience with the old man.
“Of course, Brir. I didn’t think you would accept my offer since I have tried to convince you for years. You would think I would give up by now,” he replied with a smirk as he deftly gathered the items I would need, things I couldn’t make myself. He gathered soap, candles, and seasonings I liked to cook with. Salt was hard to find out here unless you checked the houses. I knew everything in the area was looted. I would need to go deeper into the abandoned cities to find these items, which I don’t want to do. This was easier. I marveled at the efficiency with which the trader moved, his hands worn from years of hard work.
“Alright, Brir, here you have it.” The trader presented me with my items bundled in a rough cloth. He hesitated before adding, “Stay safe out there.”
I tilted my head at his unusual display of concern. “Worried about your source of goods, Trader?”
He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Maybe I am?”
“I’m not your responsibility,” I growled at the man, surprising even myself with the harshness of my words.
The trader looked taken aback for a moment but quickly schooled his features into his usual stoic demeanor. “Of course not, Brir. You’ve never been anyone’s but your own.”
I nodded curtly, turning to leave with the items he had given me. Gunner watched me silently as I loaded the items into Dune’s saddlebags. “For what it’s worth, Brir … I think you did a good thing today.”
I tightened my grip on the bundle of supplies and turned away from the trader again.
“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling an uncharacteristic warmth in my chest at his kindness. The trader met my gaze, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.
“Found anything interesting in your travels?” the trader inquired.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” I admitted, my thoughts drifting to the crumbling buildings and overgrown vegetation that marked my days. “Anything interesting happening around here?”
“Well, we had some military men here a few hours ago.”
That piqued my interest.
“What were they doing?” I asked, looking at him. I tapped my fingers against my leg as nervous energy filled my limbs. The military rarely left their cities’ confines unless something was amiss. Their presence always meant trouble. “Did they ask about anything specific?”
“Nope, the convoy didn’t even stop. They just drove through, but I thought I should warn you since your mount isn’t … from our world.” Gunner eyed Dune again, and I could see his fingers twitch as if he wanted to try to reach his hand out again to pet the beast.
I nodded my head in understanding. The military killed all monsters, as they called us, that they came across. Well, kill any they could. Many could not be taken down by bullets alone, but Dune was a lepot. Their soft scales didn’t provide them the protection the Rizugae’s that Arya favored did. Bullets would kill the beast. I patted Dune’s soft nose. His scales bristled as he turned his head into my hand, sharp teeth nipping at my arm.
“They went north, Brir,” the trader told me, giving me a stern look. I was traveling north, and he knew it. I went the same way each time. “Be on the lookout out there, okay? Watch your fucking back out there, okay. I kind of like you.”
“Good boy,” I murmured to Dune, running my fingers gently along his unique hide. Despite his intimidating appearance, Dune was a gentle beast. He just didn’t like strangers. Lepots were extremely loyal. Dune would die trying to defend me. So, at least, I knew he had my back.
I looked back at the trader, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Thank you. I’ll be on my guard.”
I climbed back onto Dune. We would make better time because we didn’t have to stick to the shadows now that the sun had set.
Dune’s large eyes reflected the starlight, casting an eerie glow in the surrounding darkness. As we prepared to depart, I felt him shift restlessly beneath me. He was as eager as I was to leave this outpost behind.
With a final nod of gratitude to the trader, we turned and began our journey out of the almost empty human market. The air was thick with the smell of spices and unwashed human bodies. As we left, people edged away from us, not wanting to get too close. We made them uneasy. As we should.