LONG ROAD AHEAD

15

Phoenix stirred. She lifted her head and noticed the room flooding with sunlight. She looked up to see Craven watching her. He looked so weary, with dark circles under his eyes. They were supposed to sleep in shifts, but he had stayed up all night while she slept. “Good morning,” he offered her a half-hearted smile as his heavy eyelids threatened to close.

“You should have woken me.” She scolded as she sat up.

“You needed to sleep.” He yawned.

“And you don’t?”

Craven smiled and shrugged his shoulders painfully. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“That is not funny.” Out here in the wasteland, death could come at any moment. They were not going anywhere, so there was no reason he could not get some rest now. Phoenix looked around for the satchel. “Do we have any food left?” Craven did not answer. “Craven, I asked if we…” She looked back to find him unconscious. He had fallen asleep. She would let him sleep.

Phoenix scooted to the edge of the bed and got up, limping to the bag on the floor. She picked it up and looked inside. No food. She tossed the satchel on the floor and sat back down. Phoenix reached for her canteen. At least she had water. She twisted the cap off and lifted the canteen to her lips. Only a few drops came out. s**t, no water either.

They needed to replenish their supplies. Phoenix looked to the window. She could barely stand and not for long, and Craven was too comatose to wake. She was unsure as to what to do. They needed food and water or, at the very least, just the water. They could go weeks without food if need be, but they would die within days without water. Like it or not, she had to venture out.

She got dressed in her armour and then picked up her bow and quiver. Phoenix moved the chair that barricaded the door. Lacing her arrow, Phoenix cautiously exited the room and limped silently down the hall keeping her eyes open for movement. When she came to a set of stairs, Phoenix knew going down them would be difficult and painful.

Leaning against the wall for stability, she carefully made her way down the stairs. It took a while, and she did her best not to make any sounds even though she wanted to cry. It hurt so much. Reaching the bottom step, Phoenix readied her weapon once more and moved through the inn toward the door.

Once outside, Phoenix went for a walk looking for a water source. She limped for what felt like forever until she came across a cliffside. She spotted water drizzling from a crack in the rock face. She put down her bow and cupped her hands under the light flowing water. She brought it to her nose. It smelled alright. She then lifted it to her lips and sipped it. It tasted fine. She was not sure, but it seemed drinkable. Plus, she did not believe she could walk any farther. Her foot was killing her.

Deciding this would have to do. She removed the canteens from her belt and held them under the weak stream until each one was filled. Phoenix tied the newly filled canteens to her body and then picked up her bow, and she started back towards the inn. As she limped along slowly, Phoenix heard a noise that brought her to a dead stop. She lifted her bow and strung an arrow keeping an eye out for the source of the sound.

She stood poised to shoot, listening for movement for a long time, but she heard nothing. She looked around, but she did not see anything. She needed to get the hell out of here. Phoenix moved on as quickly as her damaged leg would take her. She was halfway back when she heard it again. Phoenix stopped and brought her bow up, the string drawn tout. She looked around. Something was following her. Whatever it was, she could not allow it to follow her back to the inn.

It was time to turn the tables. She would hunt whatever it was hunting her. Summoning her courage, Phoenix made her way off the path and into the dead but thick brush. She kept low and silent as she moved through the wooded area. She stopped when she heard the noise again. Suddenly a large wild animal came out of a patch of thistles and charged her. Phoenix took aim and let her arrow fly. The point burred itself into the beast’s head, and the thing dropped dead a few feet away.

The threat over with Phoenix slung her bow over her shoulder and pulled the arrow from the carcass returning it to her quiver. She squatted down to get a better look. It was stalky but malnourished. Phoenix could see the beast’s ribs through its hide. It has a long strip of course, dark hair from its head down to its tail. It had a huge turned up nose and long curved tusks. She had no idea what it had been, but she knew what it was now… food.

Phoenix drew her hunting knife and proceeded to gut the animal. It took her an hour to skin and butcher it. She took only what she could fit in the satchel, and then she dragged herself up onto her feet and limped her way back to the inn.

Reaching the inn, Phoenix built a fire and cooked the meat so it would be edible. Once she finished, she stuffed it all back into the satchel and made her way back up to the room she left Craven in. As she got back, she found him sleeping just as he was when she left. He had been sleeping all day.

Phoenix barricaded the door again and stripped off her armour and weapons once more. Then, with meat in one hand and a canteen in the other, she climbed onto the bed and sighed as she took the pressure off her swelling ankle. She scooted up the bed until she was next to Craven. She took the canteen and held it toward Craven. “Wake up. You should drink something.” She waited, but Craven did not stir. “Craven, it’s time to wake up.” She nudged him slightly. She did not know him to be a heavy sleeper. “Craven?” When he did not budge, she became concerned.

Phoenix put down the canteen and the meat. She shifted onto her knees and took Craven by the shoulders and shook him. Still, he did not respond. She needed some sign he was still with her. So she decided to inflict pain to shock him out of his heavy slumber. Phoenix dug her thumb into the wound on his shoulder hard, but he remained unresponsive. That was when she knew for sure something was terribly wrong.

“Craven!” She yelled and shook him. Phoenix slapped him a few times, hoping to get a response, but he only slumped forward. Phoenix’s hands moved over his face and down his neck. They glided over the deep scratches in his biceps. One of the Molearks must have scratched him. She looked the wounds over closely, searching for signs of infection. The area around the scratches was red and swollen, but there were no sores of pus. It could not be an infection, so it had to poison. The Molearks that lived out in these mountains must have mutated differently. They had developed a venomous quality to their claws, and maybe even their bites. Phoenix searched Craven’s neck and torso for bite marks but found none. It had to be the scratches.

She sat back, unsure of what to do. She had no way of knowing what kind of toxin was in his system. Which meant she had no idea how to counter it, or if it were lethal. At this point, all she could do was wait and hope he did not die. Phoenix pulled Craven’s legs dragging him down the mattress so that he was laying flat on his back. She did her best to make him comfortable.

Phoenix placed her hand to his forehead. He was burning up. She had to get the fever down before it did serious damage to his brain. She had no choice. Phoenix opened the canteen and dumped the still cool water from the spring over his head and torso, trying to cool him down and to keep his wounds clean. She cut strips off what was left of the curtains to change the bandage on his shoulder and to cover the wounds on her arms.

Sitting near the head of the bed, she took Craven’s head in her lap and drizzled drops of water on his lips and in his mouth, trying to keep him hydrated. Phoenix put down the canteen and stroked his dark hair. “Don’t you die on me,” she whispered. “I can’t make this trip alone.”

***

For two days, Phoenix tended to Craven. She fought the fever with the water in the canteens. She tried to get him to drink, sacrificing her own water rations to keep him going. She ate very little. Just enough to keep her strong enough to care for him. She was saving the food for when he woke… if he woke. He would need to eat to rebuild his strength.

At the end of the second day, Phoenix was starting to feel the effects of dehydration. Her lips were rough and cracked, and her mouth fell as dry as the desert. She could feel herself drifting in and out of consciousness. No food. No water. Phoenix was near death, and Craven had yet to wake. She was not even sure if he were still alive, and she had become too weak to know the difference.

He was almost certainly dead. She should drink what was left of the water and eat what was left of the food and get out of here. Keep moving. Phoenix stroked Craven’s hair, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She could not bring herself to leave him behind. If he died, she would stay and die with him. Phoenix closed her eyes and slipped into darkness.

***

His eyes fluttered open and then fell closed once more. He was not sure how long it took for them to open once more. Then fell shut again. The world around him seemed dark and distant. His eyes closed then opened again. Craven looked around. He was still in the room, and it was night. No light but that of the moonlight coming through the window.

Craven sat up. His body was stiff and achy. His head was pounding so hard he was sure it would burst open. Just what the hell had happened to him? He had been so tired and weak when he fell asleep, and now he felt like he had gone ten rounds with a Scorpio. He was still dizzy. Crave turned to see Phoenix sitting next to him. She looked dead. How long had he been out of it?

Craven took Phoenix in his arms and stroked her face. Her eyes opened, and she offered him a weak smile. “You made it,” She barely whispered.

“What happened?”

“The scratches,” She breathed. “Venom.”

He understood. These particular Molearks must have had a toxin in their claws. It had not killed him, but it had rendered him unconscious, which was a useful thing for the Moleark. Incapacitate their prey, so they did not fight while they were eaten alive. Thank God it had not killed him.

Craven looked down at the bandages on his arms. Phoenix had taken care of him. He climbed out of bed and found the canteens. She opened one empty canteen after the next looking for water. Becoming more frantic when finding each empty. Finally, with the last one, he found a small amount of water.

Relieved, Craven stood up and headed back to the bed. His foot caught on his sword, and Craven lost his balance and fell, dropping the canteen. He watched in horror as it hit the floor, and the last of their water spilt all over the floor. “No! No! No!” He cried out in panic as he crawled quickly to the water seeping into the porous wood floor. “Goddammit!” He growled and slammed his fists against the floor.

Craven picked himself up off the floor. He felt like a clumsy fool. Phoenix needed water, and he had just wasted the last of that they had. He looked at Phoenix. She would die without water. He was left with no choice. He had to go out. He had to leave her here alone. Craven came to the bed, his hands framing her face trying to get Phoenix to stay conscious and look at him.

“Phoenix, I have to go find water. I need you to stay conscious, alright. I need you to stay awake.”

“Spring,” she breathed.

“What?” He had barely heard her.

“There is a spring,” he licked her dry lips before continuing, “half a mile to the north.”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw it.”

That was good enough for him. Craven got dressed and gathered up the canteens. “I will be back as soon as I can. Don’t sleep.” He was afraid that if she gave in to sleep, she would never wake up. He headed for the door and stopped, his hand hesitating over the doorknob. Craven turned around and walked back to the bed. He placed his hand at the back of Phoenix’s head and leaned in, kissing her dry lips. He looked into her weary eyes. Then he placed a soft kiss to her forehead and left.

It was dark, so he ran. He wanted to avoid whatever might be lurking in the shadows. Normally he would not go out alone in the dark, but he did not think that Phoenix would make another night without water. He kept his sword in his hand as he ran uphill. Eventually, he found the spring Phoenix had mentioned. It was just a pathetic drizzling from a crack in the rockface, but it would do. He kept a watchful eye on his surroundings as he filled each canteen. He did not want anything creeping up on him in the dark.

Once the last canteen was filled, he capped it off and secured it to his belt. Picking up his sword once more, Crave ran the whole way back. As he came out of the trees, he saw four more Molearks chowing down on their dead brethren. He quickly ducked back into the trees and crouched down low. Luckily they had not seen him. Unfortunately, they were standing between him and Phoenix. She had been right to suspect more would come. They must have been living in the caves of these mountains. Which meant there was likely a nest nearby.

Craven looked down at the bandages on his arms. He really did not want to have to do this again. Only he knew he had no choice. He picked up a large stone and threw it away from the doors of the inn. The sound of it striking the dirt drew the mutants’ attention. They rose from their feeding and moved to inspect the source of the sound. While they were distracted, Craven came up on them from behind and took off two heads before stabbing one through the heart and slitting the last one’s throat.

With the threat dealt with, Craven made his way inside. He ran up the stairs and down the hall to the room he had left Phoenix in. as he neared the door, he heard movement inside, but a bad feeling came over him. Slowly he pushed the door open and found another Moleark tearing and banging against the door to the washroom. Phoenix’s weapons were scattered across the room. He did not see her body. She must be held up in the washroom. The Moleark must have snuck up on her. Unable to get to her weapons fast enough, it was likely Phoenix had crawled to the washroom and barricaded herself in, but that flimsy door was not going to hold.

Craven whistled to get the thing’s attention. It snarled and turned to face him. It charged, but Craven swung his sword and sliced open its belly. He fell and bleed out in seconds. He stepped over the body and went to the door, banging his hand against the door. “Phoenix, it’s me, open the door.” He waited, and when the door did not open, he banged again.

Still, nothing happened. Craven threw himself against the door over and over. Using his shoulder to try and break it down. It hurt like hell, but he had to get inside. After a few minutes, the door gave. The frame broke, and Craven was inside. He found Phoenix in the corner, unconscious. He dropped to his knees beside her and pulled Phoenix into his lap, holding her against his chest as he reached for one of the canteens. He held it up to her lips, trying to pour it into her mouth.

After a minute, she began to drink and open her eyes. Her eyes rolled back for a moment. Craven gave her a little shake trying to wake her. She opened her eyes once more and continued to drink. “Not so fast,” he said, “you will just puke it up.” She needed to rehydrate, but it could not be rushed.

They sat there on the floor for a long time. Craven just held her in his arms, giving her water little by little. As the sun rose, he picked Phoenix up in his arms and took her back to the bed and laid her down. He made her comfortable and then dragged the body out of the room. He went back inside and barricaded the door again. Then he climbed into bed next to Phoenix and held her.

He slept lightly that morning, and when he felt Phoenix move, he opened his eyes to find her looking back at him. “Good morning,” he grinned.

“I don’t think it is morning anymore.”

“I don’t care. It is just good to see you awake.”

“I would have died without you.”

“Same here,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry.”

“Hungry is good,” hunger was a good sign. It meant she was on the mend now if they could only have her ankle heal with no more problems. “I’ll get us something to eat.”