Alec Davis & Tom Davies
17:34
What am I doing in this desolate place? I’m not cut out for this! Maybe Dad was right, I should have just left the treasures of Glaze to die along with it. However, if I can succeed, there’s a chance that I can save the people of Novus. Pull it together, Clare, you can do this.
Clare took a deep breath and lifted herself up. She paused to look at herself in a half-shattered, dirty mirror. She was certainly taller than the house’s previous owner – she had to slouch to see her misty grey eyes reflecting back at her. Clare fiddled with her tatty and torn clothes – her disguise. Dressed like this, I almost look like I belong here in Glaze.
She placed the array of complex-looking devices she’d made herself into a rusting chest, remembering the lessons her father had taught her as a child about the dangers of such technology. “Be careful who you expose the existence of these creations to, Clare,’ he’d warned.” You have been fortunate enough to grow up with the good people of Novus, who have a deep respect for the comforts our technology provides for them. The citizens of Glaze are not so thankful. Most would go to great and terrible lengths to acquire the items I have taught you to build. The mere knowledge of the science behind them could get you hurt, or worse. Always remember: a stranger is more likely to be a liar or a thief than a kind soul.”
Clare’s father always adopted a bitter tone whenever she asked him about Glaze, littering his answers with evasive replies and vague warnings. She never really knew what had happened to him there – nor was she likely to ever find out – but it was obvious that the place still plagued his thoughts. So much so that when she suggested making the perilous trip north to Glaze to solve Novus’ food-supply problem, he only responded with a blunt, “Absolutely not.”
How could she simply sit by and watch her friends and family starve when she could do something about it? Clare remembered the feelings of defiance and guilt that picked at her as she searched through her father’s private files in the middle of the night for the information she needed. The same feelings stayed with her as she traversed the unforgiving snowfields and ice oceans on her custom motorcycle. That had been two days ago, and those feelings had long since passed, but she guessed that was because she was now too frightened to feel anything else.
Pull yourself together, Clare, you can do this.
She locked the chest and the door to the small room in the abandoned house that contained it and her vehicle. She wrapped her white coat tightly around herself, paying special attention to hide the remaining devices that she’d chosen to hold on to. One was fastened carefully around her neck, another in her inside pocket. Mustering all the courage she had left within her, she stepped out of the building and looked upon the desolate remains of the town that stood before her.
The sight of war-ravaged and decayed houses had grown familiar to her over the last few days. She had lost count of the number of ghost towns and abandoned villages she’d passed through on her journey, the number of forgotten homes devoid of occupants buried underneath the endless snow. As she walked out of the city and into the open, a biting-cold wind was unleashed upon her, blowing her long, auburn hair across her face, forcing her to tightly tie it up. She consulted the map that she’d stolen from her father to ensure her direction was correct.
Sixteen miles to Lidz, she thought. I wish I could’ve stopped closer to it, but I just can’t risk the people of Glaze seeing my motorcycle. I’ll have to walk. The temperature is well below zero and it’ll take just over five hours to get there. If the weather remains like this, I’m not going to last long. How can life possibly exist in this place? What kind of peoplecan endure this much punishment?
Wrapping her coat tighter still around her, Clare sighed before taking a final look back.
I have to try. Just walk, Clare.
Just walk.
The longer Clare traipsed across the unforgiving terrain, the more she shivered, the more she tired, and the more her back ached from the hefty bag strapped to it. The sun crossed the sky as the hours passed. She began to feel disheartened as the wind continued its relentless assault upon her. The journey was going to take much longer than she had first predicted, and she was rapidly becoming all too aware of it. It would last long into the night, which she knew was tantamount to a death sentence. She needed shelter and she needed it quick.
Another hour passed and the sun was setting in the west, providing a fleeting distraction for Clare as its brilliance cascaded across the evening sky. It was then that she first heard voices in the distance, carried to her by the wind. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but she didn’t care. I’m not alone anymore! They might even know where I might find refuge…
It wasn’t until she was much closer that she’d remembered her father’s grim warning: A stranger is more likely to be a liar or a thief than a kind soul.
Clare’s father had always possessed an annoying tendency to be right about everything. Today she hoped that he was wrong. If he were wrong, she could approach the distant voices without fear, and take comfort in the fact that she’d soon be among good people willing to aid her. She knew that this was unlikely, but she approached all the same. I’d rather take my chances with the liars and thieves than spend a night in the wind and snow. A night where the cold alone could kill me.
Invigorated by this new hope, Clare sped on through the blizzard. Regardless of how long she headed towards the voices, no matter how fast she ran, they never seemed to get any closer. As breathlessness began to take its toll on her body, she saw the faint outline of structures on the horizon. Not a town or city, but buildings all the same.
I’m saved!
When Clare was closer to the buildings, she could see that only one out of the four had a roof remaining. She rushed towards it as quickly as her exhausted body could carry her, but she took a moment to compose herself before opening the door. It was only then that she noticed numerous footprints leading off in the opposite direction through the snow. Have I missed them? Probably. Well, at least I have shelter for the night now.
She entered the building.
The interior proved to be more exposed to the chill than Clare had hoped – there were holes in the windows which lined the entire left wall, leaving the room just as cold as outside. At least she was protected from the wind, which went some way towards lifting her spirits. The floor was covered in a mixture of empty food wrappings and fractured bottles. She kicked through the decaying rubbish at her feet as she walked, keeping an eye out for anything useful. The next room presented little improvement from the last. It did, however, lack the broken windows which the first room had in spades. She spotted a closed door on the right, which from her brief examination of the exterior of the building she deduced must lead to a completely enclosed room. As she approached the door she could hear shallow breathing. It caught her off-guard. She’d assumed everyone had left, but at least one stranger had remained behind. Her fear once again piqued, but she forced her hand to open the door, albeit hesitantly.
Clare peeked her head around the door. “Um…hello? Is a-anyone there?” she said. The only reply was the haunting, shallow breathing. The room was filled with animal furs, small piles of chewed berry pips, and some more empty bottles.
Does somebody live in this dump? Here? In the middle of nowhere?!
Clare reluctantly took a few steps forwards so she could see around the corner. The source of the shallow breathing was a dirty, balding man, sat with his legs outstretched and back against the wall. His hands clutched his chest as it quickly expanded and collapsed. She stepped farther round to get a better look at his face. He was middleaged, with a scruffy beard, and wide eyes that stared only forwards. He did not seem to notice Clare at all.
“Excuse me? Um…h-hello?” she said, approaching him slowly. It was then she noticed his hands were covered in blood, his own blood. He clutched at a wound in his chest, which had more likely than not led to a collapsed lung.
“Oh no, are you o-”
She cut herself off before she could finish her obviously stupid question. No, you’re not okay, that wound is fatal. You’re going to die.
“T-those…bastards,” the man said, his blank gaze unchanging. “Bastards…they took…they took my…”
“Took your what?” Clare asked as she knelt down at his side.
“My…my…daughter…they took her…”
“I-I’m sorry. Who took her?”
“Men…bastards…bastards…his voice…his ridiculous voice… he took her…she was only nine-years-old…”
“I’m sorry, I d-don’t understand, who took her? Why did they take her?”
The dying man grabbed her arm, staining her bright white coat with his warm blood. “She was only…nine-years-old…why…why would you?”
“Why w-would you what?” Clare awaited a reply but knew she would not get one. The man’s eyes kept their gaze, but his breathing had finally stopped. Clare fumbled backwards, her eyes locked into his. She had never seen anyone die before and she found that she didn’t deal with the experience well. When she finally managed to pull away from his vacant stare, she leant over to gently shut his eyes.
There were plenty of furs in the room with which she could use to keep herself warm throughout the night, though she would have to spend it with the corpse in the corner, being too weak to move a man of his size. She curled up in the furs facing away from the dead man, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I need to rest, I’ve far to travel at sunrise and I will need my strength. Just don’t think about him.
Yggdrasil had better be worth this.
Alec Davis & Tom Davies, 2021.
Deathkat Media 