Scorched: A Post Apocalyptic Story Read online

Scorched

  By Lijah Phoenix

  Copyright 2014 Lijah Phoenix

  “This world is not as it seems Rhine. There is more to this dry and desolate exterior than meets the eye.”

  1

  Rhine Toledo couldn’t move any farther through the dried up desert; his life was going to end, die in the desert all alone, nobody around, nothing around, and all because he’d asked for it. The calling of the bright lights beckon, they reach out to touch your soul, but kill you in the end. A Siren from that ancient text he’d read when he was young. What was the name of that story? Falling hard, his face into the cracked earth, dying, he wished he could remember.

  *

  The band of thieves looked down the rocky canyon, watching as an unsuspecting caravan passed through. In the wilderness there are no rules, it is survival of the fittest and smartest. No one will hold your hand when it gets tough, no one will come to save you when death knocks on your door. Rhine Toledo lived and had grown up in a world of coarse rock, little food, little water, and men who would knock your lights out if you looked at them the wrong way. He looked around at the seven other bandits wearing gray shirts, faces covered to save themselves from blowing sand and dirt. They are his men, outcasts among outcasts, the scum of the ruined bloody earth.

  From their caves in the cliffs they looked down. Steep drops on either side of roughly two hundred feet. Red rock with swirls of light brown and white mixed in. The area was deathly dry and hot, you could go entire weeks without ever seeing a cloud in the sky above.

  Few people lived in the wilderness that surrounded Bly, a small settlement that sprouted up alongside where there had once been a river. When it washed up, most the people had left, but some stayed. Some people came for the bright lights that shine over the distant sand dunes, nobody knows what the hell they are, but people come and stare at them, always speechless when they first see them. They call them shooting stars, but Rhine isn’t so sure that’s what they are. He’s watched and studied them for years. Some people pass through in hopes of finding a better life out on the horizon. Despite their reasons for passing through, these are the people Rhine waits patiently for as they come through Canyon Land. His men ready.

  When the caravan marched into position, he gave the call and the men scattered like goffers disappearing into their holes, each going to their designated spot below. Rhine stared at the group of people, horses, donkeys, and carts below. Counted ten people in all. He pierced into them with his dark brown eyes, weighing their worth like he’d done hundreds of times. He slid his hand briskly across his shortly cut hair, with incredible agility he dropped down, sprinting side to side down the cliff face-keeping his body out of site from the wandering eyes of the caravan.

  When he reached the bottom he could hear his heart pounding deep within his chest, could feel the adrenaline coursing through. The setting sun gave a twilight glow to the landscape, helping to hide their movements. Rhine looked for the signals, he watched from afar as sticks rose up slowly from three different boulders surrounding the caravan. The group moved closer and closer until, it was time. Rhine reached for the tip of his sword sheathed at his side. A gold grip leading down to finely sharpened steel, a work of art he’d been tempted to sell many times.

  Rhine stood up and walked casually towards the caravan. His shoulders were relaxed at his side, his chest stuck up, moving with light steps and confidence. He walked towards the caravan as if walking for the hell of it, unafraid of what lie ahead, unafraid of what might happen. Fear? The men of the desert have attacked fear, ravaged it, and sent it on its way.

  The caravan stopped abruptly. Men scuttled about, stopping the animals, yelling for the woman to get back, grabbing weapons. Three men with swords ran to the front, staring at Rhine with sneers and clenched jaws. Must be the fighters; hired help to get caravans through the dangerous regions of the world. Rhine stepped right up to them, his sword stowed neatly at his side, while there’s were out-ready to strike without a moment’s notice.

  “Get the hell out of here dirt,” one of the men yelled to Rhine. “Or your blood will soak this scorched earth.” He raised his sword.

  Rhine kept walking slowly towards them. Walked right up to the man in the middle who spoke. He heard a baby crying from one of the carts, heard people shuffling to hide and prepare to fight if necessary. Rhine stared the man in the eyes. He was larger than Rhine, taller, wider, and he looked like he wanted to rip Rhine’s head off and smash it into the ground.

  With his eyes locked on the man, Rhine walked right up to his sword. He slowly reached out his hand and touched the sharp point of the blade. Blood dripped from his finger tip, hissing as it splattered on the dry and cracked earth below.

  “My blood already soaks this earth,” he said. He points at the man in the middle. “Yours however?” He shook his head. “Yours hasn’t, but it will if you don’t do as I require.”

  The man grunted, smiled, looked at Rhine like he was crazy.

  “Give me half your haul; food, provisions, and commodities,” Rhine said. “Then, you can walk out of here unharmed.”

  All three of the men laughed. Rhine continued:

  “Decide not to and we will kill you, one at a time, until you decide to agree.”

  The men erupted in laughter. A gust of wind howled in through the canyon.

  “Starting with you,” Rhine said, pointing at the large man in the middle.

  The man’s smile suddenly dropped, his lips disappearing behind a forest of beard. His blade gleamed in the dimming sunlight as his arm raised, preparing to strike. He slammed it down towards Rhine, the blade slicing through the air towards his head.

  In a blur of blinding speed Rhine slid to the side, removed his sword, and sliced into the man. His massive upper body fell off, his body splitting in two at the waist. Blood flooded out, soaking the ground, fulfilling the prophecy.

  As the giant man lay dead and mangled on the ground, Rhine looked at the other two.

  “My offer still stands,” he said calmly, wiping the blood of his blade on the dead man’s shirt.

  People near the carts and horses gasped in horror at the sight of the body. The two men hesitated, looked back at the caravan, and then looked forward with a scowl towards Rhine.

  Rhine nodded at them. He slid his swords casually back into its sheath.

  “So be it,” he said.

  The two men charged at him, swords raised, muscles flexing. Rhine didn’t flinch, didn’t even move. He just stood there. Just as the men’s swords were mere feet from slicing him apart, two spears flew out of the rocks, one from each side of the canyon. They exploded into the men’s bodies, turning them rigid, sending blood spewing out of their open mouths. They stood a half second, the spears skewing through their bodies, dropped their swords, and then fell hard to the ground.

  2

  Arturo appeared out of the rocks to Rhine’s left, leading two others, and Hector appeared to the right, also leading two. Those who huddled near the carts waited, their bodies shaking, horrified by what they’ve just seen. A sight that would cause most to shiver, but not men of the desert. Not these men.

  Rhine led his men, surrounding those remaining in the caravan. He leaned over to Hector.

  “Take everything,” he said. “They had their chance. Leave only the carts and donkeys so they can get out of our land. If anyone gives you trouble, kill them.”

  Rhine stood back and watched as his men plundered, taking anything and everything they desired. They piled everything onto one of the carts. Barrels of water, crates of food, spices, tools, and piles of other things. They took everything, leaving the nine people, including woman and child
ren, alone. One of the men yelled out to Rhine, he wore nice clothes and black hat, and if Rhine was closer he could have seen a gold star pinned to the top right corner of his shirt. He yelled that Rhine would pay for what he’d done. Rhine wanted to go back and strike the man, but shrugged it off. If only he knew how right the man was, that that very night he would pay for everything he’d ever done. And dearly.

  They brought everything they looted to their fort in the caves, high up above the canyon. The outside of the cave was covered with a maze of large stones, shielding it from suspecting eyes. In ten years no one had found the cave, and many had looked. They were a band of thieves known throughout the land from Bly to up beyond Canyon Land and the Dead Forest, fewer and fewer people were traveling though their canyon and hills as their reputation spread.

  Torches lit the way down dugout steps to the main cave. The bandits brought in crates, broke into them, and began eating, drinking, and relaxing after their victory. It was an easy victory. Over the years they had gotten good at what they did, each having their own special skill and assignment during an ambush, but Rhine was the brains behind it all. He was the one who devised the schemes to take the caravan with the least amount of effort, using scare tactics like the one they’d used earlier that day instead