From the Ashes

By M. Thompson

Decades have passed since the last war, the one that swallowed the world. Afterward there was a heavy sadness that conformed to the lands, bringing with it violence, famine and cruelty. A young man traveling south finds himself in the middle of a desert and a village. Caution of this new stranger was high at first, but quickly subsides, realizing that the young traveler didn’t intend harm. After friendly exchanges, the young stranger is introduced to four elders of the village.

After sitting down to eat a meal with the elders, they begin inquiring why he’s so far out in the desert of old Nevada. Telling them he wanted to see the ruins of the old cities, they begin to describe to him why he shouldn’t. Each elder begins to tell their tale about what happened during the great war, how fire fell from the sky, how they survived and the things they had to do. And hopefully for them their words would influence this young man to avoid such things, to stay where it’s safe; to live.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663235497

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Copyright © 2022 M. Thompson.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-3548-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-3549-7 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:  01/28/2022

CONTENTS

Beforehand

Vastness

Madness

Fire

Prey

Darkness

Crossroads

Afterword

BEFOREHAND

Days pass like wind over water, leaving behind a wake of memories. As enough time passed for the people to become hateful and fearful of each other, blinded by a strange and willing stupidity that divided many, soon war engulfed everyone. It was literally knocking on your front door, grinning with rotten teeth and eager to bite. It was one swift and vicious global war, igniting itself like an unattended compost pile, slowly becoming hot inside before the emerging flames. After the fire had subsided, the onslaught from the sky cease raining, only ashes and rubble remained. Moving slowly within the broken mess of civilization afterward were some survivors, but not many.

Somehow, as life has often granted, they continued on, with many slowly starving, trying to catch anything they could for food like filthy rats, dogs, cats, snakes and many others. It didn’t take long for raiding parties to form and overwhelm others that had canned goods and vacuum sealed foods and clean water. Ruthless times had truly fallen, and eventually after the food was eaten, some began to feed on their own kind. Now the world was plagued with a great illness filled with unspeakable things.

Eventually a few decades passed, yet the world was still plagued and broken. During these later passing years, a young boy grew into a young man, living with his uncle and being taught many useful important things such as reading, writing and mathematics. Even though the world had been altered dramatically, his uncle felt that this knowledge would benefit him somehow, someday. Owen was his name, the great man who raised the boy and guided him into adulthood: The man who taught him how to live by the honorable code; to not be two-faced and treacherous. The man who continually told him to be grateful for the things he had.

Ryan was the young man’s name, and after his uncle Owen had passed away while fishing along the shoreline of the river they lived by, he felt hollow, with no real direction to his life. His uncle had raised him, and well, and after about five years of total solitude he was ready to venture out into the new silent and eerie world. He buried his uncle on the west side of the cabin they lived in. That’s where he used to enjoy sitting in his old wooden chair and view beautiful sunsets. They only had one horse his uncle had gotten from a traveling stranger, who had two horses and no more food. So Owen gave the man a decent amount of food and the traveler gladly gave Owen a horse along with a good saddle with saddle bags. Unfortunately, his uncle only had gotten to use the hansom beast for one season before his departure.

After saddling the horse and packing the saddle bags with certain items, he was ready for traveling. He didn’t know what he would find, but he was prepared, or so he felt. His uncle had passed down his knowledge of knife fighting, teaching him to be quick by going for the arteries, the ‘checkmate’ Owen used to say. Tied snugly to his outer right ankle rested a long dagger of his preference, secure in its leather sheath and ready for use. Strapped to his backside was a black compound bow accompanied with dark piercing arrows. He had a sidearm on his right hip in a weathered looking holster, a .45cal with only eight bullets. Ammunition had become incredibly scarce, but he was hopeful of possibly finding more rounds somewhere. His eyes would be remaining keen for these, everywhere he went, as well as any other form of helpful tools. Four empty magazines resided in one of the saddle bags, and hopefully he would be able to fill them later on.

Then he left, heading south toward what used to be known as the state of Nevada. It was in the desert where he found his own personal crossroads, having to make a decision that would affect his life forever………………………………..

VASTNESS

The wind grew violent as the sun continued toward the western horizon. Tumbleweeds raced across the brown barren land bouncing repeatedly. Thick dust clouds stretched far and wide as they spun wildly, almost like smoke, reaching high into the air dissipating to nothing, the fine granulates unseen by the naked eye becoming dispersed once again. The smell of blooming sage filled the air with its strong fragrance. The hearty knee-high plants were everywhere, freckling the small brown and dry valley surrounded by the nearby foothills. The ends of their twig-like branches had greenish little pods, containing a little moisture and a lot of scent. It seemed that from the sight of the environment there couldn’t be much life other than the sage, just a sea of brown, with the occasional jack rabbit jumping out from behind a sage brush and jamming off into the distance disappearing somewhere. It must have been about eighty five degrees, pleasantly warm. Summertime had just begun, being the best time to do any kind of traveling. The air was incredibly dry, dry enough to eventually cause cracks inside your nostrils and bleed a little, along with sore and red gritty eyes.

In the middle of the fierce wind and vast brown land came a man on horseback. The tan colored horse slowly pushed through the intense wind gusts holding its head toward the ground, with its hooves making their tracks in the soft loamy dirt across the desert. The rider swayed from side to side trying to fight his exhaustion. Eyes open, then shut.

The rider was wearing an old black leather jacket that only had half of the right arm sleeve. Under that, he had a dirty black knit sweater. His pants were dark brown and hand made from rawhide with a thick stitching running down the outer sides of his legs. They looked rather worn, but durable. An old beaten pair of black steel toe boots covered his feet. On his head he wore a dark blue bandanna. Another was tied over his face to prevent any unwanted dust. Shoulder length brown dingy hair hung from under the bandanna on his head and blew in the wind recklessly. Slight stress from the black compound bow tied to his back was beginning to present itself, with a tightness within his back from the minor extra weight. The saddle witch the rider rested upon had become rather dusty, with the saddlebags hanging from each side, making a slight clanking noise with each step of the horse.

Only half of the sun was visible as it slowly moved behind the distant foothills, having a calm, but still powerful brightness to it. Its deep red glowing color burned in the evening sky, casting huge shadows across the dusty valley he was in, and pouring light onto the distant hills to the east. But in a moment, the direct light would be gone. He opened his eyes widely between wind gusts to watch the long and stretched clouds erupt with vibrant colors. Magnificent reds, oranges, yellows and purples filled the western sky with their beauty, lighting up the clouds high above to the west like fires in the sky, burning so distantly. The man continued staring in awe mesmerized at the beautiful spectacle. Then unexpectedly, a small spinning dust cloud crossed his path blinding him with dirt.

Cursing loudly, he quickly placed both of his hands over his eyes and began to rub out the fine nuisance that irritated him. Wind continued to throw up dust at random. Soon the small active dust cloud began to move away from the rider, completing its journey to nowhere.

He brought the horse to a halt and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Looking forward far into the distance, he pulled out an old hand held compass with a lengthy silver chain attached. He held it close to his half blinded eyes. As the device pointed, he held the compass flat in his palm and rotated it until the needle lined up with the large N. He directed the horse southward, then with a quick jolt of his heels, the horse began to move again.

After a little time passed, the sun was no longer. The day’s end had finally caught up with him, leaving the sky and distant clouds a dark purple color now. The hills to the east turned dim, beginning to become covered by nightfall. Around him everything was getting a bit harder to see, with his eyes squinted and straining. The sage brushes had become dark and somewhat circular objects, as the dirt was a little more visible, but still becoming dark just the same.

The dark purple became darker, until finally the color black set in. The rider could hear the faint howling of coyotes in the distance. He didn’t worry about the coyotes’ aggressiveness. Luckily they were small and not wolves from the timber, easily to scare off just by making a loud noise of some kind or by stomping your foot at one. They wouldn’t be bothering him or his horse. The passing wind continued to throw dirt into the air, only now it was undetectable. As the rider was getting ready to dismount and sleep for the night, laying on the ground covered by one of his thick blankets like he’s done so many times, he noticed a small light flickering far in the distance, the light of fire being tossed in heavy wind. He began to guide the horse in the direction of the dancing light, moving slowly in the young night. His curiosity grew, wondering to himself if it may be another traveler; or maybe something else.

As the moving light grew in size, he began to feel a bit cautious. Reaching down to his boot, he pulled out his six inch double-edged dagger and concealed it within his jacket holding it tightly in his dirty fist. Then out of nowhere another dust cloud ravaged him. Blinded yet again along with another cursing session, he rubbed his eyes wildly. When he regained his vision, he could see that the light was indeed a rather large fire. He continued his approach with the constant shifting of his eyes; trying to spot danger before he himself was spotted.

Soon the fire was no more than fifty feet away. Scanning the area carefully, he could see two buildings to his left emerge from the darkness captured by the firelight. One was two stories and the other was a single, only the single looked old and neglected as shadows moved across it. Looking back at the flickering fire, the rider noticed something move, then vanish into the shadows.

The tension of his grip on the dagger greatly increased. The horse slowly moved closer to the whipping flames until the rider was right in front of it. Again he saw something move within the shadows beyond the dancing light. Now the rider had the dagger out of his jacket and prepared for use. He looked closer past the flames, but could see nothing. He looked to both sides of him as well as behind, then back towards the flames. A strong and increasing sense of nervousness began to fill his chest. His legs, arms, and jaw shook uncontrollably as a very strong feeling of being watched overcame him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upright followed by unbelievable chills that shot down his spine like electricity.

Hello there! came a loud scratchy voice from the darkness beyond the flickering flames.

Who are you!? he yelled while trying to keep his teeth from chattering. His awareness grew quickly, not being able to see the voice from the darkness past the fire.

Carl. The darkness beyond the flames replied.

A tall lanky figure emerged from the black and revealed itself in the firelight. The dull light of the fire showed that baldness covered the tall man’s head and that he hadn’t shaved his face for quite some time. He began to walk toward the rider slowly with his hands out to his sides.

You don’t plan on using that do you?

The rider found himself frozen and holding the dagger right out in front of himself pointed at the lanky stranger, ready to dismount and utilize the skills his uncle had taught him. A short moment of speechlessness passed, the rider slowly lowering his edged weapon, but didn’t sheath it.

No.

It’s alright, I don’t plan on killing you or anything.

Sorry about that. Just a little too cautious I guess. the exhausted rider said, looking closely at this ‘Carl’, wondering if he was being honest.

You can never be too cautious. Carl replied, then added, How long have you been out there in the desert?

Almost two weeks. the rider replied as he began to rub his right eye, keeping his left open and focused on this new stranger.

That’s a good while.

How many people live in this town? he asked as he dismounted his horse and slowly stood straight, feeling the cramped muscles in the back of his tired legs stretch with dull pain. It felt good to stand on his own.

There’s only a few of us here. We don’t see many others often.

A more intense firelight showed the rider that Carl was wearing a long leather coat that went down to his ankles. More leather covered his feet, bound tightly for protection and comfort. He looked to be about in his mid-thirties, with a few noticeable wrinkles casting small skinny shadows across his large egg-shaped forehead. Soon he noticed a long handle sticking out from the long leather coat, then realized that it was a rather large blade of some kind. Appreciation for the tall bald stranger being friendly filled the rider.

So what’s your name anyway? Carl asked. And I’m seriously not planning on harming you. He added, glancing at the dagger the rider still held in his hand.

Standing there motionless for a moment, he looked down at his knife clenched in his hand, then knelt down and put it back in its sheath next to his ankle. He had a good feeling about this one, something calm, honestly inviting. Then he stood upright and replied, Ryan.

Good to know you. You can stay over there for the night, Carl said while pointing at the two-storied building with his dirty and rugged index finger. I’ll take you there and show you. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you.

Ryan followed Carl to the building. In front of the entrance was a wooden post stuck in the ground along with an old looking wooden drinking trough filled about half way with water.

Just tie your horse to the post. Carl told him.

He took the reins rapped them snugly, leaving plenty of slack, then began to take the saddle off the horse. The horse quickly began drinking the cool refreshing water. As he lifted the saddle from the tired beasts back, the saddlebags began to clank loudly. In the night, somewhere beyond the drinking trough, he could hear the faint neighing of other horses, speaking to each other in their strange animal language. He looked, but could see nothing; only the dark before him.

What do you have in there? inquired Carl, looking somewhat anxious concentrating closely at the saddle bags.

Oh, just little stuff I’ve had for a long time; some more clothes and two heavy blankets. Ryan clarified as he turned away from the neighing black and held the bag in front of Carl.

Carl peered into the saddlebag that made the clanking noises and saw two old tin cups, silverware, a few old books and many coins that no longer possessed value, along with a large pare-shaped water bag made from some type of animal skin. From the way the swishing sounded, it appeared to be about half full. And one more thing, a palm-sized magnifying lens.

A magnifying lens? Carl asked curiously.

Yeah, it works pretty well for making campfires, as long as there’s sunlight. It just takes a little while sometimes.

Clever.

Yeah, it works.

I haven’t seen one of these in years. Carl exclaimed as he pulled out one of the old coins. A quarter!

Keep it. Ryan offered, and I’m sorry for being a little paranoid.

Hey, thanks. Carl said as he gazed at the circular relic, then added, It’s wise to be cautious, especially in times like these. Hell, that’s why I live way out here: to stay away from most people.

Well thank you for helping me out.

My pleasure, Carl said with a smile, I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Oh yeah, and if you need to take a shit or anything, there’s an outhouse around back. Speaking of witch, that’s where I’m headed right now. So if you need anything, I’ll be around, and thanks again for the quarter.

With that said, Carl walked around the corner of the building abruptly, vanishing into the night, not being too concerned about the new arrival of the stranger, trusting him: Perhaps just little for Carl to fear.

Ryan’s eyes glanced all around himself before entering the building. There was nothing to see but blackness and the only sounds that could be heard other than wind and the occasional neighing of horses, were that of coyotes in the far off distance. Ryan stepped up onto the little wooden porch leading to the entrance. To the left side of the dark wooden door was a smudgy window revealing a faint orange glowing light from inside. Slowly, Ryan looked through the window. Blurry images were all that he could see; then one of them moved, a shadow. Hearing faint pops in his lower back as he bent over, Ryan grabbed his saddle and draped it over his right shoulder, shifting it so it wouldn’t snag his black bow on his back, then felt even more popping as he slowly stood upright.

Placing his hand onto the door, he slowly pushed it open. It was a large room with a long wooden table and chairs to the right side. To the left there was a countertop attached to the wall and a fireplace just beyond the left end. Fire already burned within the rock-made fireplace giving the large room dull lighting and comfortable heating. The wooden floors were clean, almost immaculate: as if someone in this little village had some kind of cleaning fetish. He shut the door behind him quickly before a gust of wind had a chance to throw dust inside. The glowing fireplace couldn’t reach the back of the room with its dull lighting, leaving it absolutely dark. Beyond the large table and chairs, he could decipher what the moving shadow was moments before.

A tall slender woman with jet-black hair that reached her shoulders stood before him. Her elegant feet were exposed. In her arms was a small brown scruffy dog that couldn’t seem to take its eyes off Ryan. Her face was filled with beauty; a face that radiates gentle soft warmth, like sunlight. The dark brown dress that she wore reached her ankles. It may have looked old and filthy, but her radiance somehow overcame the classic look of the pauper.

Would you like something to eat? the elegant woman asked, still-faced and obviously a bit nervous, not seeing many new faces in her small world.

Mesmerized by her beauty, Ryan found himself lost for words. Then after a short moment, he spoke.

Sure, please,….thanks.

The young woman revealed a faint smile. The feeling of embarrassment filled him, not to mention the feeling of nervousness.

I’ll get you some snake.

The young woman walked toward the back of the room where it was dark, made some clanking noises as she rummaged around, then returned with the food. Ryan took it gratefully.

The pieces of dried meat filled his mouth with great flavor. He hadn’t eaten for almost a day trying to ration what little he did have and having no luck with killing any antelopes with his bow, and many more since a snack this good: Great tasting rattle snake meat, much like chicken. At one time many would have disbelieved antelopes living out in high desert country, by they did.

If you want more just help yourself. The rest of it is in the large wooden bowl with the lid back there. She explained as she pointed to the darkness that filled the back of the room. I’ll get you a candle, wait here.

Ok. Ryan replied with his eyes half open, feeling the invisible weights of tiredness pull on his grimy lids.

She walked past him to where the fireplace was, grabbing two dingy white candles that were on the hearth. After that, she reached down toward the floor next to herself and picked up a long twig from a small pile of sticks and branches. Holding the twig carefully, she stuck the end of it into the flames until it began to burn. Pulling it out of the flames, she quickly used the lit end to light one of the candles before the little flame of the twig died out, then tossed it into the fire. When the small flame grew to its maximum, she carefully held the burning candle to the other and lit it as well.

Here. She said as she handed him one of the lit candles.

Thanks. He replied, squinting a little from the small flame glowing in front of his dusty face.

Ryan held the candle with his left hand while supporting the saddle on his shoulder with his right. Together, they headed toward the dark half of the room. A soft orange color illuminated from the candles, then revealed a banister.

Your room is up here. She said as she began to walk up some stairs while running her soft hand on the banister, looking closely at her palm afterward with the aid of the candle. She was obviously the one who had the cleaning fetish, checking the banister for dust. He was almost certain that she must have cleaned constantly living out here in the vast brown land of dust.

Ryan followed. His eyes felt like pure sand. The exhaustion of his body truly showed while he walked up the stairs. Achy knees and hips moved slowly, trying to keep up with the young woman. He felt the stiffness of his neck when he looked over the banister to his right. His sore muscles ached within the small of his back, and they were becoming worse.

The stairs led to a wooden walkway. The room below which he had entered was very empty. Although in the dark section of the room where the woman had gotten the food, it looked like there was another large table of some kind covered by a blanked. Its image barley presented itself because of the candle’s soft glow, causing some shadows to move as the flame did.

You can take your pick. Came the soft pleasant voice of the beautiful woman.

Ryan’s head spun around to face hers.

Oh, this one’s fine. Ryan said as he walked to the first room on his left.

If you need anything, I’ll be in my room downstairs. It’s the only small room down there, so you can’t miss it. I thought you might like this as well. She said as she handed him a damp wash-cloth, wadded up inside her grasp without him noticing, possibly pulling it from a small pocket she had somewhere on her clothes. Then again, being physically worn-out, one couldn’t be that observant.

Thanks again. He told her thankfully, taking the damp cloth. Oh, how do I pay for this? I have some things in my saddlebags if you need anything.

No, that’s alright.

I can’t thank you enough.

That’s ok. The young woman said as she began to walk back down the stairs, taking one last quick look at him with a small smile.

Soon the dark haired beauty was at the bottom of the stairs and moving steadily toward the dark section of the main room below. The candle she held gave her an ominous flickering orange glow, creating new shadows that stretched and waved. Shortly thereafter, she was gone, taking her soft glow with her. Ryan stood there for a moment gazing into the darkness which she had walked through. Slowly, he shut his eyes for a moment, feeling their sting of irritation and listening closely. He could hear the faint sound of wind racing past the building outside, only now he was totally protected from the airborne dirt. The basic building creaked constantly; old worn boards slightly being moved from the pressure of the strong wind outside. A couple times he could hear the faint spraying of fine dirt particles being tossed against a window. Then he forced his eyes open. Slowly, he turned back around to the bedroom door and proceeded to open it.

A loud squeak sounded as the bedroom door opened. Ryan guided himself into the dark room with the aid of the candle. More clanking noises came from the saddlebags when he dropped his belongings onto the floor. The water bag made a swishing sound. Reaching over his shoulder, he carefully untied his black compound bow from his backside and carefully placed it next to his saddle on the floor. The dark arrows remained attached to the side of the bow, secure in their black and cracked quiver. To his left there was a small wooden shelf attached to the wall. To his right was the bed. Many covers were provided by his host along with a soft looking pillow. There was a small window near the head of the bed. A crack ran down the lower left side of it at a diagonal, but no breeze could be felt. After placing the candle on the small shelf, he began to undress. The candle provided just enough light, casting a shadow of himself projected upon the opposite wall, jittering to the left and right with practically every movement he made, disturbing the surrounding air with his body movements. He stared at it for a moment, looking into its single flame hovering above melting wax. It was soothing. Then he placed his filthy clothing on his saddle and set his thrashed boots to the side of them. He took the damp cloth and wiped his face and ears, then his crotch, removing some of the build-up of dust and sweat. It felt nice, but not quite refreshing. After that, he set it up on the shelf next to the candle. His thirst was beginning to make itself known, so he reached for his water bag taking a drink, replacing it back inside the saddle bag afterward.

He proceeded to crawl into the bed situating himself accordingly. The feeling of actually laying on a comfortable mattress felt heavenly. God, how long it’s been. The covers were very soft and warm as he slowly pulled them over himself: old dark blue flannel sheets guaranteed to keep you warm. The pillow proved to be indeed exceptionally soft; a true Godsend. When he was ready to fall asleep, he blew out a large gust of air from his lungs, blowing out the candle. The room became black in an instant as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing a tracer of the flame floating before him wherever he looked. Then his eyes shut quickly and remained that way for the next ten hours.

Pine trees raced through his mind at high speeds. He could see the variations of brown and green colors streaking by his face. A small boy in shabby clothes and dirty tan hair continued running through the forest. Running and leaping around and over obstacles. There was a river nearby. The boy picked up his pace. The water was so clear, so pure. An old man wading in the river made the line of his fishing pole glide through the air with ease disguising it as a fly. The boy reached the edge of the shoreline and tripped on an oval rock sending him onto his stomach. His eyes were blinded by the water splashing into his face and his chest hurt from impacting onto the shallow rock bed. The old man came to his aid helping the boy to his feet. The old man smiled with sympathy as the sunlight hit his back. Then the image faded.

He awoke to a loud scratching sound from the other side of the door. The scratching stopped for a moment. Then he heard sniffing. Everything became clear once more after he stood to his feet. After rubbing his dry and irritated eyes he began to dress himself. Sunlight poured through the small window causing Ryan to squint. Many of his aches and pains were gone: only minor stiffness remained. He cracked his knuckles then grabbed his filthy sox and boots and placed them onto his feet. After tying his ratty laces on his boots, he stood upright and stretched, with arms extended out to his sides and legs tensed, stretching those achy muscles in the back of his legs.

The closer he walked to the door, the louder the scratching became. Soon he heard whimpering. He placed his hand on the doorknob and held his leg out in front of himself to block what he was anticipating on the other side. The door swung open. The little scruffy dog from the night before pranced onto his leg striking its little paws against his shin. Ryan chuckled. He carefully stepped over the small brown ball of energy, glancing at his belongings on the floor next to the bed, shutting the door behind himself feeling trustful of his things. After the door clicked shut, he made his way back to the stairs. The little dog never barked as it stared at him with excitement, its short little tail blurring back and forth with perked ears, wondering to its little self who this new kind person was.

There were two men discussing something downstairs in the main room. Both of the men had long grungy hair, only the man on the left was gray. The steps creaked as Ryan slowly walked down them. He looked back over at the men talking. Their eyes where focused on him like two hawks guarding a nest of eggs. Feeling nervous about the entire situation, Ryan began to approach the two strangers, creaking even more now as he continued down the stairs. His steps changed in tone the moment he touched the main room, a much more solid surface beneath his feet. As he walked closer, the older of the two men turned and walked out of the building. Only the darker grungy haired man remained.

Soon the two of them were face to face. Ryan attempted to speak, but was interrupted by the little dogs paws on the back of his legs.

Roscoe! shouted a firm feminine voice which sounded familiar.

The little dog quickly ran over to the origin of the voice. It was her; the elegant beauty from the night before. She still had the same dress on and no shoes. The daylight provided much more light to enter the large room, exposing her attractive face better than the candle did. She had high cheek bones with a smooth curvature to them and bright blue eyes that gazed at him calmly. Her chin and nose were small and petite. Her skin looked barley tan and perfect, with no blemishes what so ever; an even shade of color. A very faint shadow from her small nose could be seen just above her thin upper lip. He thought she was gorgeous. She smiled at him.

I’m sorry about that. He just gets a little excited sometimes.

That’s ok. Ryan said with a small smile, realizing how soft her voice was. It certainly resembled her appearance.

Yeah, he’s my little guy. She replied as she picked the little dog from the floor and held it securely in her thin elegant arms. It stared at Ryan and began to shake.

What’s your name? asked the long grungy haired man, standing there before Ryan and examining him closely, his voice capturing his attention suddenly. Not real low, but stern and clear; serious. The long dingy hair