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  Having a predictable pattern made some of the simple-minded colonists forget the fact that they were stuck on a world in which things never got better.

  Routine deflected chaos.

  Once the colonists awoke in the morning and ate their breakfasts, he would lead his people to the graveyard, along with the other Heads of Colony, alleviating the grief from the storm.

  Afterward, they would move on.

  He hoped.

  Chapter 27: Neena

  The sun cast a reddish-orange glow, creating a majestic back light over the horizon as daylight faded. If Neena’s throat weren’t so parched, she would’ve appreciated the beauty of sunset, as she did on some of those rare, fruitful days after hunting.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she and Kai had sweated under the sun, tipping the last of the flasks they’d refilled before climbing, watching the light fade. They’d seen no sign of the creature and heard no rumbles. Over time, a few scavenging birds had returned to the carcass, continuing their meal.

  The story of whatever they’d seen behind the dunes was hidden, for now.

  At the moment, they had a more pressing concern: they needed more water.

  Enacting the plan that they’d whispered about for most of the afternoon, Neena looked over the ledge at the dead fawn.

  “I’ll go first,” she whispered, to a nod from Kai.

  Without another word, she turned and put her foot on a firm rock, slowly lowering herself. Neena steadied her shaking hands as she descended, feeling the burn in her calves as she tried keeping her balance. As soon as she was a body’s width away, Kai followed her down the sheer face. Neena kept her eyes on the rocks as she gripped tightly.

  She felt weaker than when she’d made the climb. She was dehydrated. But an entire night without water would weaken them further.

  They had no choice but to take a risk.

  The thought of whatever had died behind the dune came back to her, as she relived the shrieking, agonizing cries of pain. She held her breath, avoiding a betraying noise and trying to forget about whatever lurked in the desert.

  She was halfway down the formation when a piece of stone cracked underneath her boot. Neena stopped, clung to the rock face, and listened to the stone ping to the bottom, landing in the stream with a plunk.

  Above her, Kai halted. The air held the same, eerie calm that occurred this afternoon.

  Somewhere out of sight, one of the feeding birds flapped its wings. It squawked, but didn’t fly away.

  Exhaling, Neena continued. She kept an eye on the ground, not ready to trust anything in the semi-darkness. Finally, she eased herself onto the jutting crag, climbed back and over it, and landed softly. Kai followed.

  Neena walked heel to toe in the sand, attentive for squeaks in her boots. Kai followed. Reaching the stream, they knelt, filled their flasks, and gently drank. After a long day in the heat, the water felt like a heavenly miracle. Neena sipped until she was full, but she didn’t gorge. After topping their flasks again, they quietly stood.

  Getting close to her, Kai whispered, “Are you ready?”

  Neena nodded.

  She looked over at the dark crevices in the ground, which seemed even darker with daylight dying.

  Neena took one of her small game bags from her pack and walked purposefully toward the dead fawn, keeping an eye on the gaping holes. Too many shadows surrounded them. Seeing her coming, the birds cawed and scattered. Neena swallowed as she reached the fawn, knelt, and waved away some of the stubborn flies.

  She only needed a few moments.

  Holding her breath from the growing stench of the meat, she bent down, using her knife to carve away some of the untouched parts of the carcass’s fur, finding the fresher meat beneath. When she had cut through the fawn’s top layers, she sliced out a few pieces, stuffed them in her game bag, and walked away.

  With full flasks and meat in her bag, she and Kai returned up the rock face.

  **

  Neena and Kai huddled on the ledge, chewing pieces of the raw, soft fawn. The same reservations that had kept Kai from building a fire stopped them now. Even if they had wood to burn, they wouldn’t use it.

  “The meat isn’t so bad, once you get used to it,” Kai said, with a grim smile.

  She smiled back, trying to control her nausea.

  The meat wasn’t tasty, but it was palatable, when faced with the option of starving. She remembered what Kai had told her about getting sick. She worried about that. But it was too late now.

  Underneath her worry was a small sense of accomplishment. At least they had made it back up to relative safety, away from the ground and the ominous holes.

  They sat in silence, filling their stomachs.

  The light of the twin moons cast a nascent glow over the landscape. Somewhere beneath them, the birds returned to the carcass. Every so often, she heard them pecking and shifting. Those sounds were unnerving, but the proximity of the birds meant the creature wasn’t near.

  She hoped.

  Swallowing a mouthful of bland meat, Neena washed it down with water. Neither she nor Kai had suggested leaving during the night.

  They knew it was too dangerous.

  Kai’s face was little more than a silhouette under the twin moons as he finished his food. “We will have another decision to make in the morning, assuming we live that long.”

  “A decision?”

  “We will need to figure out where we’re headed.” He looked out over the desert.

  Another unspoken conversation bubbled to the surface.

  In the time they’d traveled, survival had taken priority over any other decisions. But now Neena’s buried worries came rushing back. She was traveling with a man she barely knew—a man from a strange colony—taking him in the direction of her home. Was she really going to bring him to Red Rock? How would they react?

  “You seem as if you are thinking about something,” Kai said.

  “I’m worried about my brothers. Ever since I saw that creature, I have the desperate urge to get back to them, to make sure they’re all right.” Neena looked at him.

  “And that makes you wonder whether you should bring me,” he said, taking an intuitive leap.

  Neena sighed. “Until yesterday, I knew nothing about New Canaan, or this beast. And then I met you, and everything changed. Now I have worries I did not have before.” She looked at Kai. “It seems only death lurks in the desert.”

  Kai fell silent a moment. “It would make the most sense to head to Red Rock, but I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

  Neena sighed. Voicing her uncertainties gave her a strange sense of guilt. “If I arrive with a stranger, I am uncertain how my people will react. I am uncertain if they will even believe the story we have to tell. And I have a deeper concern.” A pang of dread kept Neena from speaking.

  “What?” Kai asked.

  She exhaled a nervous breath. “What if we think the creature is gone, only to have it appear at my colony? What if we bring death back with us?”

  Kai fell silent, obviously concerned about the same thing. “I do not have a good answer for that.”

  Neena wrung her hands. She imagined Kai’s ten dead companions in the desert, crushed or eaten. What if she decided to bring Kai back, and they both brought the Abomination to Red Rock?

  “Perhaps we can split up. That way, one of us is safe,” Kai suggested. “The creature has followed me longer. Perhaps it will recognize something in my vibrations, and I can lead it away. Perhaps it never has to reach your people at all.”

  Realizing the implication behind his words, Neena said, “Are you saying we part ways, and you will search for New Canaan?”

  “I brought the creature here. Maybe I can lead it away. Maybe later, I will find New Canaan again.”

  Neena backpedaled his suggestion. “I don’t know if wandering around in the desert is the answer.”

  “Perhaps I can travel so far away that it will never return at all.” Kai’s vo
ice cracked, as he looked away, out into the darkening desert, obviously thinking of his dead companions. “Maybe that is what I should have done days ago. Just say the word, and I will leave and not follow you. I swear by the twin moons.”

  Neena looked out over the desert—a desert that concealed the beast. She felt an empathetic worry for Kai that she couldn’t explain.

  “Your leaving is no guarantee that I will escape,” she said. “It might kill you and come for me afterward. Or it might follow me, instead.”

  Kai opened and closed his mouth, but he didn’t refute her concern.

  “Or maybe it will find someone else from my colony.” Neena shuddered as another buried fear rose to the surface. “What if it stumbles on another hunter, like me? Someone else might bring it back before we do.”

  “It was a thought I was afraid to voice,” Kai admitted.

  A new thought struck her. “What if I die before I warn my people? What will happen to my brothers?”

  Considering her own death gave Neena a strange feeling.

  If she never made it back, what would happen to Raj and Samel?

  Most hunters had families who would look for them, but Neena’s family had no one.

  They had Helgid, sure, but she was an old woman, in no condition to trek into the desert. And if no one helped, that meant Raj and Samel were alone. Neena pictured Raj and Samel in the desert, wandering aimlessly and coming across the beast instead, meeting the same fate as the Rydeer and its fawn. She felt a wave of fear greater than the worry for her own safety.

  Raj and Samel might die, and then others might die, too.

  “Anyone who searches for me might bring it back with them,” she concluded, following her thought to a decision. “I need to get back to my people. I need to warn them. And right now, you know more about this creature than anyone. I think it only makes sense that you come back with me.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “It is the only answer that seems right,” Neena said resolutely.

  “I do not know of a way to kill it,” Kai reminded her. “I am not sure how much help I can be.”

  “No, but if my people are aware of it, maybe they can take precautions,” Neena said. “Perhaps our warning can save more people from death.”

  “Thank you again for your help,” Kai said.

  “Do not thank me until we make it back alive,” Neena said, returning his grim smile.

  Kai nodded in the darkness. Sitting next to him, Neena felt a small wave of comfort in a large, empty desert. With their decision made, Kai shifted, probably thinking through the implications of their decision. “What will your people say, when they see me?”

  “They will have no choice but to listen,” Neena said, praying that was true. “They have to.”

  Chapter 28: Darius

  Darius hobbled around his home under torchlight, clutching his pack and listening to the last of the loud voices outside. One or two colonists lingered near their homes, finalizing the last of their patchwork. Soon, they would be indoors for the evening, huddling by their hearths and cooking dinner. Later, they would settle into an exhaustive sleep after a trying day, squeezing their children and thanking the heavens for their good luck.

  Darius had other plans.

  Creeping over to one of the bins he had secured earlier, he opened it and tucked some items in his bag. He pulled out a few spears and knives and placed them back on his bench, where their owners could find them, should the worst happen.

  When he finished packing, he tested the weight of the bag on his old shoulders. The goods never seemed to get any lighter. But then, they never did. Despite his aging body, Darius’s mind felt the same as when he was a young man.

  It was a cruel trick from the heavens about which he and Elmer often joked.

  Opening another bin, Darius pulled out a long, sharpened knife he reserved for occasions such as this, slipped it into his sheath, and removed several torches, sticking them into his bag. He closed the sack in such a way that they hung out in easy reach.

  Walking to the wall, he stared at the old, nostalgic spear. The long weapon would be no good in close quarters. His knife would be better.

  Darius ambled over to his workbench, stuffed some dried vegetables into his mouth, and waited for the bustle of evening activity to give way to the flutter of bats.

  Then he crept to the door and slipped out among them.

  **

  Under the cover of darkness, Darius snuck through Red Rock, quietly moving with his cane. The houses around him were little more than silhouettes under the light of the twin moons. Most of the haze had gone, but a thin layer hung in the air, giving him extra cover. Darius stuck to the shadows, using a lifetime of familiarity to guide him toward the eastern rock formation. Every so often, the skittering of a night creature made him pause, but none were loud enough to signify a notable threat.

  He peered through the dark, finding a few bits of ambient light. A few times, he saw a glow under the cracks of hovels’ doorways, but none of the lights moved, and none of the doors opened. Most in the colony were asleep, except The Watchers.

  Darius stared up toward the moonlit cliffs, locating a few stationary torches. Only the bravest Watchers worked so late a shift. With their visibility limited, only a few observant ears were needed to listen for sandstorms.

  Everyone knew the cliffs were even more dangerous at night than during the day.

  For most of the night shifts, The Watchers trolled the alleys, searching for predators that wandered into Red Rock. Their shifts were dull, but occasionally, they encountered a speckled wolf prowling the shadows, or a dust beetle that was big enough to wake some of the colonists. Of the scarce animals that lived nearby, most were savvy enough to stay away from the colony.

  All had learned to fear humans, except those in the caves.

  Darius swallowed as a memory came back to him—as fresh and haunting as it had been two years prior.

  He’d never forget the day he’d learned that Akron was missing. He’d been in his house, fixing spears, when he heard commotion. Breaking from his work, he went outside to discover his neighbors conversing with The Watchers. Akron’s parents had reported him missing, and a search had begun.

  Some in Darius’s position might’ve kept hold of the damning information they had, but not him. As soon as he heard about the boy’s disappearance, Darius had admitted his knowledge of Akron’s exploration of the tunnels, thinking he might help.

  The leaders had refused his assistance.

  The Heads of Colony—and The Watchers—had forbidden him from going into the caves and helping with the search. No sooner had he spoken than people blamed him for the boy’s interest in those prohibited explorations—especially the boy’s parents, who had never let him forget, either in the days after, or the days since.

  The Watchers had searched the caves for a while, but they never found Akron.

  Eventually, everyone had accepted that the boy was dead, including the boy’s parents, who hated Darius and wished him dead, too. Most days, Darius hated himself. His guilt ate away at him. If he had somehow slipped past The Watchers on those first days, perhaps he could’ve found the boy in time to save him. Of course, there was no chance that Akron was alive now.

  All he could hope for was a proper burial.

  Moving through the dark alleys, Darius kept an eye out for any of The Watchers’ torches moving in his direction. Years of traveling in darkened conditions had ingrained a sense in him that he couldn’t explain. Sometimes, it felt as if Darius had an animal’s instincts. On nights like these, he was grateful for them.

  Soon, he reached the last of the houses in a row.

  Pausing to adjust his bag, he looked up at the cliffs. None of the torch lights had moved position. The alleys around him were as dark as the ones behind.

  Seeing nothing suspicious, he trekked through the sand to the eastern rock formation and into the closest cave entrance. When he was far enough inside to avoid notice
, he reached for a torch, lit it, and made his way deeper, undetected.

  Chapter 29: Darius

  Darius glanced behind him, ensuring no one followed. The flame of his torch lit the smooth, auburn walls of the tunnel on either side. Sticks and rocks covered the cave floor. Often, the children of Red Rock threw items into the cave when they thought no one was looking. Some acted on dares, proving their courage to the others, while others tested their own bravery.

  Some cured their boredom with those dares.

  None, except Darius, entered.

  And Akron, on too many occasions, including the time he disappeared, he reminded himself.

  That thought urged him on as he clutched his cane, careful not to make too much noise. Darius moved steadily, following a path he’d traveled more times than he could count. From somewhere outside and behind, he heard the hoot of a desert owl, perched on the giant formation’s outer ledges. Soon, the sound disappeared, and an eerie, closed-in silence surrounded him. Darkness enveloped everything outside his torchlight.

  Deep in the tunnels, there were no days and nights.

  There was only the amount of water and food in one’s bag, the number of torches he had, and the bravery in his heart.

  Darius swallowed as he recalled the times he had traveled here as a younger man, always careful to come back before the morning, so he wouldn’t be discovered. Back then, the threat of lost rations hung over his head.

  Now, his punishment would be even worse.

  The Heads of Colony had already warned him twice: after his shattered leg, and after Akron’s death. He couldn’t fathom what they would do to him now.

  The rules of Gideon and his men were getting stricter. Underneath the stern demeanor of The Heads of Colony, Darius saw an undercurrent of nervousness. Each storm chipped away at their outward assurance.

  Gone were the days of freedom, when young colonists might enjoy more than a handful of years without worry. He wasn’t sure if it was nostalgia, or a bitter truth. Sometimes, it felt as if the planet were a river, slowly running dry, with no way to replenish itself.