LONG ROAD AHEAD

5

Something slithered over her hand. Phoenix opened her eyes to find herself staring into the eyes of a rattlesnake. Her skin crawled. On gut reaction, Phoenix jerked her arm and flung the snake against the wall of the cave. She quickly scrambled to her feet, backing away as it slithered quickly toward her in an attack pattern. Phoenix had made it mad.

            Its tail shook that rattle a warning of an imminent attack. With its fangs bared, the snake hissed at her. Phoenix reached for her sword, and as her hand closed around the hilt, the rattlesnake flew two feet through the air and was pinned to the dirt, skewered by a throwing knife and very much dead. Phoenix breathed easy then turned around to see Craven propped up on one elbow smiling at her. “Look… breakfast,” he said, sitting up.

            Phoenix frowned, not pleased with his proud grin. “I had it under control,” she insisted, releasing her sword.

            “Oh yeah, I could see that,” Craven teased, getting to his feet. He walked over to the dead snake and pulled his knife out of his kill. He wiped the blood on his pants as he returned the knife to its place on his forearm. “Were you going to kill it before or after it bit you? Honestly, it is amazing you’ve lasted as long as you have alone,” he said, picking up the snake and stuffing it into her satchel. “Let’s get out of here and find some wood. I’m famished,” Craven said, pulling back some of the boulders that barricaded them inside.

            “I do quite well on my own, I will have you know,” she snarled, removing a boulder and tossing it aside as they dug their way out of their shelter.

            “I can see that,” he grunted, heaving a huge rock aside. “So far, you’ve been chased down by a nest of Scorpios and attacked by a rattler. You are doing fantastic; that is if your goal is to be eaten.”

            “A rattler cannot eat me. Don’t be asinine,” Phoenix countered as she helped him push the large rock aside.

            “Dead is dead,” he reminded her as they stepped out into the morning sunlight. “It doesn’t matter how it happens,” Craven said. Phoenix went back inside to retrieve her bow and quiver. She reached for her satchel, but Craven snatched it up, putting it over his shoulder. “Allow me; you have enough to carry,” since he already had the book tucked away in the folds of his cloak, she did not care if he took the satchel too.

            They began to trek across the dirt and the hills, heading toward the north, toward the Dead Forest that lay beyond these hills. They walked for an hour up the hill and over the rocks toward the forest. When they finally saw the edge of the timberland, they picked up the pace. The woodland was made up of tall, towering trees, each of which was grey and dry, void of leaves or bristles. There was no canopy above and no brush below — just endless pillars of dead trees and dry dirt.

            Phoenix followed Craven as he led the way. He seemed to know just where he was going. Her stomach growled, and she felt a little faint. She had not eaten in almost two days. “When will we stop and eat?” She protested.

            “Soon,” he promised. “There is an abandoned bunker I know of a way up that we can hold up in. We can eat there and try to make sense of these bloody maps,” Craven said as they trudged along.

            “Are you sure it is abandoned? After all, if you know about it, there is a good chance someone else does too,” Phoenix said, following along.

            “Well, I suppose that is true,” he agreed, “but I have stayed there many times and have yet to ever see anyone else,” he assured her. They walked a little farther, and Phoenix saw the bunker ahead. Cracked concrete steps that went down into the earth to a rusted iron door.

            Craven led the way down to the door, pushing it open. Phoenix reached out, placing her hand over his, stopping Craven from opening the door. She had only meant to give him cause to pause, but when her flesh touched his, an unusual heat spread from his skin through hers. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and their eyes locked for a moment. She quickly retracted her hand as if burnt. “Are you sure it is abandoned?” She asked again, reaching for her pistol. Phoenix had not lived this long by taking foolish chances.

            “If it eases your mind, we can sweep it first,” he offered, reaching for his handgun.

            “It would,” Phoenix held her pistol at the ready then nodded to Craven. He lifted his pistol, ready to fire and, with his free hand, he slowly pushed the door open. Craven took point with Phoenix bringing up the rear as they swiftly moved inside, keeping their backs to the cement wall of the bunker. Phoenix quietly closed the door behind them as they moved down the hall, not making a sound. They turned the corner, each looking either way before moving on. It was small and cramped. 

            Craven tilted his head in the direction of the inner door. He slipped through the door into a room, complete with furniture. Phoenix followed him in, noticing the room smelled funny.

            “Do you smell that?” She complained quietly.

            Craven looked around then lowered his pistol. “I don’t see anything. Not a bad place to hold up for the night,” he pointed to a fire pit and then to the table. “We can cook and eat. I think there might be an old generator around here somewhere to get these lights working.”

            “Don’t you smell that?” She asked once more, almost gagging from the stench. “What is that?”

            “Oh, quit whining. It is still better than sleeping outside,” Craven pointed to a door behind him. “There are cots through that door to bunk down on,” there were shelves of junk and garbage all over the floor. “It is better than the cave, right?” He said with a charming smile. If it had a bed like he said it was.

            Phoenix jumped when the door behind Craven flung open, and a screaming madman came rushing out, wielding a bloody hunting knife, hell-bent on burying it in Craven’s back. Phoenix lifted her gun and opened fire, taking the maniac down with two rounds to the heart. He dropped to the floor in a heap, the knife falling from his hand. Craven already had his pistol up and had spun around to check the next room for others. Finding no one else, he came back out, giving the guy a nudge with his foot to be sure he was actually dead.

            “I guess it was not so abandoned,” Phoenix remarked while he holstered his pistol.

            “I take back my earlier remark. You are an expert marksman, and I must say I am right glad you are,” Craven bent down and grabbed the body by the hand.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Taking it outside. I don’t want to smell him all night. I’ll bring back some firewood.”

            Phoenix put her pistol away, crossing the floor to the body. She crouched down and started to search it, relieving the body of its weaponry and ammunition, as well as anything else she found that might have been of value.

“What are you doing?”

            “What?” She said, looking up at Craven. “He won’t be needing them anymore. We may as well make use of them,” Phoenix stood up and tossed the things she took onto the table while Craven dragged the body outside.

            Phoenix placed her bow and her quiver down, leaning them against the wall. It was hot down here like someone had been cooking. Without any windows, the heat had nowhere to go. She unclasped her cloak removing it. Phoenix draped it over the table. There were plenty of ashes in the fire pit and large clumps of charred wood. Phoenix opened the satchel removing the snake inside. She was not a fan of snake, but food was food when you had not eaten in days. She took out her hunting knife and set to work skinning and cleaning the thing, preparing to cook it up.

            She had done it numerous times before, and the task took her little time. Phoenix tossed the useless pieces into the fire pit to dispose of them. It was uneven though she would have to stir the ashes around so they could build a proper fire. Phoenix rummaged through the trash, finding a rod she used it to poke and stir at the ashes.

            There were hard chunks in the ash. Phoenix worked the rod under and dug it up from the ashes to find a long thick bone. She got a sick sinking feeling in her belly as she looked at it. She probed through the ash a little more, and the rod wedged into something else. Phoenix took a deep breath and lifted it, finding a charred human skull. Her stomach turned. She was doing her best not to throw up. “God damn cannibals.”

            Craven returned with an armload of wood. He carried it over to the fire pit and dropped the wood to the floor. “What did you find?”

            “It turns out that our dead friend out there was a cannibal,” she announced, using the rod to move the bones over to the rest of the trash.

            “Well, that explains the smell. What some people will eat,” Craven said, turning up his nose.

            “All the more reason for us to find our way to Cyprus,” Phoenix said, kicking the garbage around so she would not have to see the remains.  

            “Squeamish?” He teased.

            “I just do not like to be in the company of death,” she said, coming to the table as he began to build a fire.

            “Yet you killed so readily,” Craven observed.

            “I dislike death and violence, but I am not above defending myself when the moment demands it. I am idealistic, not suicidal,” Phoenix said, inspecting the haul she had taken off the body. She checked and counted the bullets and shotgun rounds. She had then divided them up between them, quickly pocketing her own.    

            “Now, what are you doing?” Craven asked as he lit the fire.

            “Dividing up the ammunition,” she said, it should be obvious. It did not take a genius to see that.

            “You are sharing? I am surprised to see you give instead of taking,” Craven teased, coming to the table.

            She smirked at his wisecrack. “It is purely in the interest of self-preservation,” she assured him. “After all, how can you watch my back if you have spent all your rounds?”

            Craven offered Phoenix a dazzling smile that made her heart flutter. “Of course, why would I think it for any other reason?” He said as he began to tuck the rounds away on his person.

            Phoenix watched as he unclasped his heavy black cloak and tossed it over hers. She got her first full unobstructed view of the man she had taken up company with. He was very tall, his shoulders were broad, and his arms were muscled as was his back and chest she assumed beneath that dark leather armour breastplate. His waist and hips were narrow. His legs were long, lean and strong.

            “You must be a great hunter,” she commented as she sorted through the weapons which she would take for herself and which he could have. “To have grown so large, you must eat well.”

            Craven smiled as he inspected the weapons she handed him. “I’m a fair hunter. I grew so large because my parents sacrificed their meals to see that I ate well. They felt if I grew up strong, I could survive this world better,” his gaze raked over her. “You are not exactly the frail wisp, so many women are. You must frequently eat yourself,” he observed.

            Phoenix smiled with cocky pride. “I am a good hunter,” she bragged. Craven smiled back, and their gaze met, lingering in silence for a moment. She tore her eyes away and looked at the fire in the pit as it began to grow. “I think the fire is hot enough now.”

            Craven picked up the meat then walked over to the pit. He fashioned a spit and wrapped the meat around it, securing it over the fire. It would take some time to cook. Craven came back to the table, looking her over from head to toe. “Tell me how did it come to be that you wound up… well, like this?” He asked, gesturing to her armour and the fact that she was as heavily armed as he was. “Most women choose to settle in one town. Find a man to take care of them, or-” he trailed off without finishing the thought.

            “Or become whores,” she finished for him. “Neither option suited me,” Phoenix said bitterly.

            “So instead, you wound up a thief?”

            “And you wound up an assassin,” Phoenix observed. “We are what we are. We survive with the skills we were given. There is no shame in that.”

            “It’s just that it’s strange to find a woman in your choice of vocation,” Craven pointed out.

            “I take care of myself. I don’t need a man to care for me,” she snapped the hate in her tone was as clear as the nose on her face.

            “You don’t like men,” Craven observed.

            Phoenix gave a venomous scoff and continued with her task of tucking away her new weapons. “Men are vile. They think that because they are big and strong, they can bully women around. They rule the world with brute strength but are as dumb as all hell. All I have to do is bat my eyes, and I can manipulate their soft little minds.”

            Craven could not help but take offence for his whole gender. “You take a hell of a risk toying with men,” he said, stepping closer. “One day, you may come across a man you can’t handle.”

            His challenging gaze held hers. There was defiance in those smoky depths. “I can handle any man,” Phoenix assured him.

            “Is that a fact? Look how tiny you are. What would stop me if I decided to have my way with you, with or without your permission?” He said, stepping into Phoenix using his massive size to intimidate her.

            Never once did her confidence waver as she gazed up at him with a cocky look in her eyes. Craven felt the blade of her hunting knife tap playfully against his groin through his jeans. A sly smile curved her full lips. “Try it. I dare you. You’ll never pee standing up again.”

            Craven smiled and carefully backed away. “Just testing the waters.”   

***

            She was an oddity, Craven thought as he watched Phoenix over the top of the book. They had devoured their meal. Neither having eaten in well over twenty-four hours. They were grateful to have anything at all. After eating, they settled in for the night. They had mutually decided not to go anywhere until they had figured out the maps and could decide which was the best route to follow. The maps made little sense, but they were both smart, cunning individuals; they should be able to piece it together between the two of them.

            Craven had been looking the maps over, doing his best to figure them out, but he found himself distracted. Phoenix lifted her canteen to her lips to drink, and Craven found himself captivated by the sight. She had shed her heavy cloak earlier that evening due to the heat, and he had found it difficult to tear his gaze from her.

            Phoenix’s figure was tempting, curvy and firm. Her jean shorts sat high up on her shapely thighs. Her boots laced up her calves. Craven found himself wondering what lay beneath that fitted leather armour. He remembered the peculiar jolt he had felt earlier that day at the door when Phoenix had touched his hand to stop him. When her flesh touched his, a strange energy had passed between them.

            He watched as Phoenix placed her canteen down and began to sharpen her blades. Craven found himself wanting to know more about this woman he travelled with. “Are you alone?” He found himself asking, lowering the book.

            “At the moment, I’m with you,” she said with a crooked grin.

            Phoenix had a nice smile, and Craven loved the mischief he saw in her eyes. She was a real little firecracker for someone so small.

            “I mean in this world. You wonder it alone, is it by design or by choice?”

            “You wonder it alone,” Phoenix said, dragging her blade along a sharpening stone. She tended diligently to her weapons with a skill that would rival any mercenary. “Are you alone?” She asked, turning his question around on him. She was impressively evasive, speaking without saying anything at all — a clever skill for a woman in her position.

            “I am now. My family died some years ago,” Craven confessed sadly. The pain of the loss still weighed on him.

            “I’m sorry. How did they die?” She asked, pausing in her task. Her sympathy seemed genuine. The hardened expression she usually maintained had softened but only for a moment.

            “I came home from a job one day and found them dead in their bed. I believe they starved to death,” Craven said with sadness. He missed his family. “They had become too weak. I suppose it was only a matter of time,” starvation was a common affliction in the wasteland. People wasted away all the time. Only the fit survived the hardships of this living hell. His parents had died to see that he would thrive, and Craven had no intention of letting their sacrifice be in vain. “What of your family?” He asked.

            Phoenix stiffened her back and began forcefully dragging her blade across her sharpening stone. Her expression had become annoyed. Craven sensed the topic of her family was one Phoenix did not care for. “They are dead to me,” she said quietly.

            “Are they actually dead?” He asked, trying to understand.

            “I wish they were,” she said with bitterness. “My mother was a slave. My father bought her and sired three children. Two sons and me,” Phoenix said, driving the point of her knife into the dirt floor, then starting to sharpen the next. “He loved his sons, but always viewed me as somewhat of a pebble in his boot. After all, what good is a daughter? Women are of little use in this world… or so is the popular belief,” she muttered half under her breath. “When I came of age, my figure took shape, and my father soon found a use for me. He sold me to a brothel for the price of a meal.”

            It was no wonder she did not trust men; she had been betrayed by the most important man in her life. Craven wished he could say her story was unique, but it was not. Many parents traded their children for food or money. Especially the girls. It was not fair, but it was the way of the world. As she had so keenly put it the night before, this was a lawless land. There was nothing to protect the innocent from injustice.

            “And yet I find you here with me and not in a brothel,” Craven observed.

            Phoenix stabbed her blade into the floor with angry force and began another she took from her boot. “That is because I spent a grand total of six hours in it. My mother had spent her years in one before my father bought her, and before he dragged me off, she took me aside and gave me one piece of advice.”

            “What?” He asked.

            “Run,” she said, pausing to look him in the eye. “Run and don’t ever come home, and that is just what I did. My father sold to the brothel, and I stayed around long enough to become trapped in a room with my first client. He was a dirty, smelly drunkard to my father’s age. He was so drunk he had not managed to get his pants off before he fell over and passed out in his spew. I counted myself lucky and decided to go out of the window, but I knew I would not get far without clothes, weapons, and funds. So, I took what I needed from him and left. I’ve been on my own ever since,” she said, driving the blade into the ground. “Have you figured out those maps?” She asked, changing the subject to something less personal.

            “A little,” Craven admitted picking the book up once more. “It would be easier, I think, if I could read,” he had been studying the landmarks and the layout of the terrain of the last three maps, and he was fairly sure they were of nearby areas. “I think the maps flow into one another, and I think they work backwards.”

            “Backwards?” She asked, her expression confused. “Are you sure that you are reading them correctly?” Phoenix crawled across the floor, coming to Craven’s side to view the book. Her arm pressed against Craven’s as she leaned over him to read the map. The contact was momentarily distracting. It was unusual to be so near to a woman like Phoenix, young, beautiful, and healthy.

            Craven forced himself to focus. He flipped to the first couple of maps and pointed them out. “Well, just look at this terrain, these landmarks, I don’t know them, do you?”

            “No.”

            He started to flip through the pages, pointing to specific points of interest. “But as you see, as we go, things start to become more and more familiar. These start to resemble the known world. If I’m not completely wrong, I believe we are probably right about here,” Craven guessed, pointing to a spot on one of the maps near the back of the book. “Now you said he came from Cyprus and drew these maps. It would make sense if he had started the maps from Cyprus and finished when he reached us. That would explain why the maps are backwards to us. They weren’t to him. If we follow the book from the last page to the first, the maps should make more sense.”

            Phoenix took the book from his hands and began to skim through the pages considering his theory. She looked at the last page and began to slowly flip to the front, looking closely at each map and seeing how they tied into the next. “You could be right,” she admitted. Craven snickered. He had a distinct feeling those words did not cross her lips often. “But if that is the case and we are reading these maps correctly, then Cyprus is at the top of the world,” she said, staring at him with intimidation in her smoky eyes. “There are at least five maps here with no known towns on them. That is a long way to go without a freshwater source.”

            “He made it down here, so there must be water somewhere. I’m sure if we look, we will find something. We are two resourceful people. If anyone can make this crossing, we can,” Craven said, encouraging Phoenix. “We’ll just be sure to stalk up on water before we leave the last town.”

            Phoenix nodded and flipped back to the first couple of maps. “I suppose just heading north is our best bet. There are a few hot spots here though on these maps. I think it best if we avoid them. It may take longer to go around them, but I’d rather arrive with my health,” she suggested.

            “Agreed,” Craven was not interested in hiking through hot spots any more than she was. He would rather add a few more days to their journey than to kill himself before they got there to save a day or two. Craven took the book back then rose to his feet. He walked back to the table to tuck the book into the folds of his cloak. “I say we get some rest and start early in the morning,” he suggested beginning to remove his shotgun holster from his back and laying it atop his cloak.

            Phoenix stood up and walked back to where she had left her blades. Plucking each from the floor, she began to return them to their rightful places upon her body. “You said there were cots in the next room?” She asked, walking toward the door. Phoenix pushed open the rickety old door and gave a little sigh of pleasure that sent a tantalizing shiver down Craven’s spine. “Oh, yes, a bed,” she moaned and disappeared into the next room.

            Craven could understand her joy. It was a rare treat to get off the hard ground. To sleep in a bed, even if it were lumpy or had the odd punctured spring, it was a welcomed change. Craven walked into the next room. There were four badly worn out dirty cots. One of which had been overturned and slashed apart by a knife. Why someone would do such a thing, he had no idea.

            He saw Phoenix sprawled lazily out on one cot. Her eyes were closed, but her full red lips curved in a sweet little smile as she enjoyed the feel of the mattress beneath her. Following her lead, Craven dropped down on one of the remaining two cots. The mattress felt like heaven to his aching, stiff body. A smile of his own gracing his face. Craven closed his eyes and draped his arm over his eyes, welcoming the sweet embrace of sleep.