Page 23 of 1000 of You
Where are the people?
In the distance, a lone manlimped on his way to somewhere. Nearby, a woman poked a small fire with a stickin the ruins of her home. There was no one else in sight.Muamglanced up at the sun. It was either early morning or long past the middle ofthe day. Regardless, there should be others. Where was everyone else?
“Horhesh.” The other boy caught up with him. “We are stayingtonight at the mill.” He said something further, but he was drowned out by aloud baying.
Muamwhirled around, his body tense. “What is that?”
“The dogs,”the boy replied. “That is why we are gathering at the mill tonight. We think itis the safest place when they come tonight.”
“Tonight?”Muamfrowned at him. “Who is we?”
The boylooked confused. “You know. Me and you, andTosha,andKarliff, andBascoff.”
“Are all ofus…young?” He didn’t know exactly how to ask the question. The child wasalready suspicious of his new behavior, butMuamdidn’t have the time nor the patience to explain.
The boycontinued to give him a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?”
“What aboutthe parents?Ourparents? Why are wenot going home to them where they can protect us?”
A look ofhorror, followed by deep sorrow, came over the boy’s face. “Horhesh,our parents are dead. How did you forget that?”
Our parents are dead.Muamglanced around, this time seeing everything with a neweye. In a sense, he was correct in thinking this place had been through a majordisaster. There was no telling how many had died. What he was seeing was theaftermath. The survivors. He glanced over at where the child still grasped thepiece of wood he’d been pretending was a sword.
Children survive because they have the giftof escaping into a world where they are always the hero. Always the conqueror.Always the winner, who defeats the cruel and evil tyrant, thus saving all ofmankind.
This was why he was a child inthis life. A child who would not survive much longer, but who, ironically, hadsurvived something so great that there was little left of his original life—ifanything.
A soundcaught his attention. The boy had tossed his stick onto the ground. “I amhungry. Want to come with me to find something to eat?”
At themention of eating,Muamfelt his stomach clench. Helook down at himself again. At his dirty feet, and his thin arms and legs. Hispants and shirt were filthy and ragged. His sandals were almost to the point offalling apart. How he had managed to survive this long was a miracle. Sadly,Muamknew he would not live long enough to reach adulthood.
“Where to?”he asked the child. Smiling, the boy took off, andMuamhurried after him.
Theyscavenged for whatever they could find among the empty houses, although it wasevident that the places had been cleaned out long ago of everything worthwhile,edible or otherwise. They ended up going out into the fields and pulling upplants and grasses, and eating those.Muamforcedhimself to consume the raw, foul-tasting roots, throwing up once, but hepersisted. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his death would come fromeating these plants. He couldn’t identify them, so it was possible they werepoisonous. He stared at his stained and dirt-encrusted hands. No. The plantswouldn’t be his demise because it would mean a long, drawn-out, agonizingdeath, and that was one thing the gods hadn’t cursed him andGovawith. For all the demises she and he had suffered,they had been quick.
A howlinterrupted them. It was followed by another not too far away.Muam’scompanion checked the field of high grass aroundthem. “We must leave. The dogs are also hungry.”
To hissurprise,Muamrealized it was starting to get dark.The gods had begun to drag the great ball of light into the ground and out ofsight, where they would snuff it out until they were ready to relight it andsend it back up into the heavens.
It had been countless lifetimes agosince he’d seen the darkness. Or the sister silver white goddess, who threwhandfuls of sparkling lights in her wake when she traveled across the black sky.If, indeed, he wasn’t fated to die until later, it would be a first in… Hebowed his head. He’d lost count of how many lives he andGovahad been through. But he knew they were nowhere close to reaching that promisedone thousandth reincarnation.
“Horhesh!”the boy hissed at him. “We must hurry!”
Muamraced after the child, who wound his way between abandoned buildings. Therewere areas where the stench of a decayed carcass assailed them, but he and theboy didn’t check out the source of the retched odor. There was the possibilitythat it was the carcasses that were drawing the pack of dogs.
They reached the edge of the townwhere a small stream flowed. The both of them dropped to their knees to drinkseveral handfuls of water.Muamtook a sniff of theliquid and thought he detected an odd odor clinging to the water. Although hecouldn’t swear the water wasn’t tainted, he drank it anyway, as it appeared tobe the only source within miles.
The mill was situated not too faraway, on the stream’s bank. The water wheel still turned, butMuamdoubted it was used anymore for its original purpose.A howl sent shivers through him, and the two scrambled to make it to thebuilding and safety.
When the boy slammed the doorbehind them,Muamfound themselves plunged into neardarkness. A voice at the far end of the room whispered, “Who goes there?”
“KiretandHorhesh,”Muam’scompanion answered, also in a whisper. “Karliff? Isthat you?”
“Yeah. Follow the sound of myvoice. When you reach the ladder, go up it. We are up in the loft.”
Muamstrained to see through the deepening gloom as he scrambled up the rickety woodladder to the upper area where piles of empty sacks were stored. He andKiretfollowed the young man to the back area where part ofthe roof was missing. Three more figures were seated there. Pulling a sack offa pile,Muamlaid it on the wood floor and joinedthem.
“We heard the dogs,”Kirettold them.
