LONG ROAD AHEAD

4

He had been wandering the wasteland for a day. Craven had been following some tracks he had hoped belonged to his thief. He had yet to find her, but he hoped it would not take too long. It was starting to get late. The sun had gone down, and he would have to make camp soon. It was not safe wandering in the dark. Too many things came out to eat at night.

            Luckily Craven knew of an old abandoned bunker a few miles away he could hold up for the night there. He would start looking for her again in the morning. Craven started trudging toward the bunker when he heard something coming over the hill. Craven paused a moment and watched the hill. He smirked when he noticed the very woman he was looking for rushing down the hill straight for him.

            Who would have guessed it would have been so easy? Only… she was coming quite quickly, almost like she was fleeing something. She looked right at him and screamed, “Run!” as she bolted passed him without stopping. Run? From what? Then Craven heard the sound of scuttling and looked back at the hill as twenty-some-odd Scorpios came over the crest.

            “Oh, hell!” Craven turned and ran after her following suit. Normally he would stay and fight, but they were greatly outnumbered. He reached behind his back and drew his shotgun, turning around, he fired. Quickly reloaded and fired again. He kept running, reloading as he went and stopped briefly to fire, picking off a few. He kept moving, catching up to her. He put his hand on her back to push her on. “Faster, they are gaining,” he said, urging her on.

            She was panting pretty hard; he was not sure just how long she had been running before she had come on him, but she looked as if she were growing weary and slowing down. They could not run forever, and the bunker was too far away. They could not fight, and they could not get away. Craven looked around. Just up ahead, he spotted a cave in the hillside surrounded by large rocks. They could push the rocks in front of the mouth of the cave blocking themselves in.

            Craven pointed to the cave. “In there.”

            “We’ll be trapped,” she objected.

            “Either we take our chances in the cave or with them,” he said, pushing her toward the cave. They both ran steadfast toward the rocks, the Scorpios right behind them. They made it to the mouth of the cave. Craven found the biggest rock he could and began to push it in place. The girl came to his side, adding her strength into moving the rock in front of the mouth of the cave. “More rocks,” he ordered. They both quickly began stacking large boulders in the gaps around the huge rock they had just moved.

            Suddenly the tip of a tail came over the top through a small gap, and they both dropped back against the dirt just out of range. They lay on the ground panting hard and watching as the creatures struggled and clawed at the rocks to get in. The remaining gaps were far too small to allow them access. They were safe, at least for now. Eventually, they would grow tired of trying, give up, and leave. It was only a matter of time. For now, they were stuck where they were.

            They both rolled out of reach and got to their feet a good distance from the stone barrier. Craven looked back over his shoulder into the darkness of the cave, wondering just how far into the earth it went and just what might be lurking in the dark. He looked back at the rocks that kept the beasts at bay; he knew that regardless of what the cave held, it posed less of a threat at the moment than what was outside. Craven returned his shotgun to its rightful place. He then felt around in the darkness for some dried wood or something to burn. His unexpected companion did the same.

            Between them, they gathered up some bits and pieces of dried rubbish. Old wood from ancient ruins and garbage from other travellers. They built up a small heap, and Craven started to light the fire with a flint he carried with him. The flames took to the dried wood nicely, and soon the cave was lit with the soft glow of the flickering fire. The cave seemed to go on for quite a distance; for now, he was stuck here with her.

            She was eyeing him closely. No doubt, she recognized him but was not sure from where. “You,” he pointed at her. Craven stalked over and closed his hand around her throat, pushing her up against the rock wall of the cave. “Dirty little pickpocket. I want my purse back,” he barked.

            “Oh, I thought I knew you,” she choked out and reached for her pocket. She held up the small sack she had taken from him and offered him a smile. “No harm was done.”

            He snatched the sack back, releasing her. Craven opened up the tiny pouch and immediately began to count the contents. “I’m short three rubies,” he barked.

            “Yes, well, I borrowed a few to pay for a meal and a bed last night,” she explained.

            “A bed you did not sleep in from what I hear. You used my funds to trick roll another man,” he said, watching her reaction. Her reaction was surprisingly guarded.

            “And how would you know that?” She asked.

            “Because he sent me after you,” Craven smiled. “He wants his book back.”

            She lifted a quizzical golden brow. “What book?”

            Craven chuckled. “Don’t play coy with me, thief. We both know you have his stupid book. That satchel is his too. You stole it. He wants it all back,” he said, reaching for the satchel.       

            She moved out of his reach, quickly refusing to let him take the bag. “I don’t think so. It is mine,” she said firmly.

            “It is not,” he disagreed.

            “Is too,” she argued.

            “I doubt very much that there is even one thing on your person that actually belongs to you,” Craven scoffed, reaching for the satchel once more.

            Again, she sidestepped him evading his attempt to confiscate the satchel. “It doesn’t matter who they used to belong too. We both know the way things work. Thieving is not against the law. There are no laws. It belongs to me now.”

            “At least until I take it back,” Craven pointed out.

            “And then what?” She asked, backing away as he advanced on her. “You go and just give it back to the guy?”

            “That is the plan,” he said, chasing her around the fire. “Stay put.”

            “And for what? Some meagre gems and coins that will eventually run out.” She said with disgust as she kept moving just out of his reach. She was starting to aggravate him.

            Craven paused with a sigh; he was getting nowhere chasing her. “Do you have a better idea?” He asked mockingly.

            She smiled. “He didn’t tell you what I was carrying, did he?”

            “He said you had a book of sentimental value,” Craven told her. “Personally, I think he is more ticked off about being trick rolled than about you taking some stale old book.”

            “Oh no, it is the book he is after, I’m sure of that,” she said with a smile.

            “Oh, and why would that be? What is so bloody special about this silly little book? I mean, unless you can read,” he paused, looking her over, “which I doubt you can, a book is useless.”

            “Not this one,” she said happily. “It has maps inside it,” she said, almost giddy.

            Craven shrugged. “So, who cares? You are a nomad. What do you want with a map? You should already know the terrain.”

            “These maps lead to Cyprus,” she said silkily. Craven laughed. She was out of her mind. “No, I know what you are thinking. I was thinking the very same thing when he told me. Impossible, right? Well, it is not, it is real, and there is proof.”

            “Cyprus is a story that parents tell their children to help them sleep at night. It does not exist,” he told her.

            “Oh yeah?” She placed her bow and quiver on the ground to open the satchel. Craven watched her remove the book. It was dark blue and bound with leather lace. She walked right over to him, and Craven snatched it from her hands. “Hey!” She protested.

            “Thank you; I will be taking that,” he smirked.

            “Give it back; it is mine,” she barked with irritation.

            “Well, now it is mine, and I’m going to sell it back to the guy you stole it from,” he explained.

            “You would be a fool to do so.”

            “Is that so?”

            “Just look in its pages,” she suggested.

            “I cannot read; there would be no point,” he said, tucking the book into his cloak.

            “Just look, and you will see what I mean,” she snapped.

            Rolling his eyes, he decided to humour her. Craven took out the book and opened the pages. Inside he saw sketches of various animals, things he had never seen before. He was taken aback by the great care and details the artist put in each drawing. He flipped through the pages and glanced at the many intricate maps. There were vast sections of the wasteland even he had never been to, places he was sure no one had ever been too.

            But the thing that caught him utterly off guard was the crisp dried vegetation pressed between the pages. It was something he had only heard of in ancient stories. He lightly brushed his fingers over it, afraid to touch it with too much force and destroy it. “Is this a-”

            “A leaf,” she smiled. “A real leaf,” she suddenly got excited and came to stand beside him. She flipped the page over to reveal the next pressed treasure. “And he called this a flower,” she explained. “If these did not come from Cyprus, then from where?” She asked. “Where would he have gotten these things?”

            He had to admit he had no idea. Craven had never seen anything like them anywhere, and he had travelled farther than most. “Well then, where is it? You would think someone would have found it by now. There is nothing but wasteland out there,” he stressed. “Three hundred years and no one has seen this paradise but for this one man. It is possible he is just delusional.”

            “Maybe,” she agreed, “I thought about that, but if he was only delusional, then how can you account for the tangible evidence in that book? Mass hysteria?”

            She had a point the leaf and flower were hard to explain away. “Then if he found Cyprus, what on earth is he doing in the wasteland? Taking a pleasant vacation in hell? Thought he would stop in for a bout radiation poisoning and a run-in with man-eating mutant monsters?”

            “He told me he had been exiled. Kicked out for breaking the rules, but that he had made these maps because he hoped to one day find his way back and hopefully return.”

            Well, that explained why he wanted the book back so badly. He needed the maps. “A land with laws. Not exactly a place for a thief,” he said with a cheeky smile.

            “I would change my ways if I were welcomed in paradise. Would not give up being an assassin?” He looked her in the eye; she was astute. “That is right; I know what you are. You are here to kill me, aren’t you?”

            “I am to return you to him. He wishes to kill you himself, but I would have killed you if you did not give me the book,” he explained.

            “If you give him back this book, he will disappear. He will just wander off and die in some sleazy bar somewhere of radiation sickness. He does not have long; the man is already coughing up blood,” Craven had noticed the coughing too. “The book will either be lost or destroyed or worse fall into the hands of someone too stupid to realize what they have found, and you will spend the rest of your days wandering the wasteland living hand to mouth doing jobs for barflies until someone kills you or you get sick and die,” she said with bitterness in her tone.

            “That is the way life is,” he reminded her. They could no sooner change the world they lived in than they could change the stars above.

            “But does it have to be?” She asked with a smile. “Think about it. We could take the book. We could follow the maps. We could find Cyprus. Find paradise and leave this wasteland, this life of hell and degradation behind us.”

He had to admit it did sound good. Craven flipped through the maps once more, giving them a closer look. He recognized some of the landmarks, but there was so much he did not. These maps chronicled a land he had never been to; the wasteland seemed endless. It would be an incredibly gruelling journey. Dangerous, God only knew the hazards, if there would be food or water, and still, there was no guarantee he would find anything.

            Of course, if the author of this book had made it, he probably could too. He was fit, young, and healthy. Of course, the other guy had not been, was it possible the places on these maps had made him sick? Craven was unfamiliar with these places and did not know if they were hot spots or not. There was no sense in making the trip only to die when he got there… if he got there at all.    

            “We could make this trip,” she said, placing her hand on the book drawing his attention back to her.

            “We?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow. “What makes you think I would travel with you?”

            “It is my book,” she snapped. “I found it.”

            “And I found you,” he smiled. “It is mine now,” Craven decided the thief was right. He could return the book and get his meagre fee, or he could take the book and follow the maps. He was sick of the wasteland. He was tired of the grey and the desert, of the heat, the disease, and the death. Spending the rest of his days in paradise sounded good right now.

            “You cannot do that,” she growled.

            “I just did,” he said, sitting down by the fire as he studied each map. “Be thankful I have decided to let you live.”

            “You cannot leave me here. If I had not pinched it from him in the first place, neither of us would have it, and you most certainly would not be going anywhere. I at least deserve to go with you,” she argued.

            “Yeah, right,” Craven scoffed, “I’ll take you with me, and when I wake up in the morning, I’ll find you, the book, and everything I own gone. You’ll leave me behind in a heartbeat and rob me blind while you do it. I don’t think so.”

            She dropped down on the ground with her legs crossed. Her full bottom lip thrust out in a childish pout. She looked so darn cute it was hard for him not to smile. “I would not rob a companion,” she assured him.

            He chuckled. “I know better than to trust a thief or a female, and I certainly am not daft enough to trust a female thief.”

            “I’m not exactly thrilled about bedding down beside a man that thinks nothing about slitting another’s throat for profit, but for a chance at paradise, I will sleep lightly,” she said, tapping the hilt of her hunting knife. “We have a mutual goal and an undetermined distance to travel. God only knows what we might come across. I do not know how your ammunition supply is running, but I know I would feel better with extra guns watching my back, and I am sure you would find the experience mutually to your advantage.”

            She was right; his supplies were running low. An extra pair of eyes and another set of guns could come in handy if he found himself swarmed as they just had been. Craven sighed. He hated that she was right and could not believe he was about to say what he was. “Ok, you can come, but I swear if you double-cross me, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and make you beg for death,” he warned. “Are we clear, thief?”

            “Remarkably,” she smiled innocently. It was incredible how sweet and innocent this woman could look when she wanted. It was no wonder she could manipulate and distract her victims. He, too, was guilty of being blinded by her charms.

            “And I’m keeping the book,” he said when she reached for it.

            “Can you read it?” She asked quizzically.

            “Can you?”

            “I think I was making progress,” she said, stiffening her spine with pride.

            “So, no,” he smirked, flipping the page. “So, since we are to be companions, perhaps we should be formally introduced,” he suggested. “My name is Craven. What is yours, and let’s not say, Jezebel,” he warned, offering her a knowing smile, “I know that is a lie.”

            She offered him a charming smile that could take a man’s very breath away. “Aren’t we clever? My name is Phoenix.”

            It was a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Craven smiled back at her. “Well, Phoenix, I don’t suppose you have any food in that satchel, do you?” He asked, his stomach growling.

            Phoenix frowned, rubbing her hand over her firm little belly. “No. I would have gone hunting, but then I ended up getting hunted,” she said jokingly. Craven grinned. At least she seemed to be able to laugh. Maybe she would not be the worse travelling companion after all.