Apocalyptic Organ Grinder

of time.

A tremor quivered inside Lila and her teeth ground against one another like a mortar and pestle pulverizing grain. She imagined her spear running through the man’s gut so clearly that she could almost feel the spongy resistance just before the tip punctured the skin. He’d gasp and clutch at the shaft as it shredded muscle and ruptured organs, but she’d throw her entire body into the thrust, ensuring that it emerged from the other side with his entrails dangling like a prize from the barbs notched into the wood. Specks of crimson would speckle his mask as he coughed blood and she’d lean in so close that the hemorrhaging veins in his eyes would look as big as dandelion roots. With blood, bile and shit leaking out of his vile body, she’d allow the blister on her neck to erupt over his evil face as the final insult.

For Tolek. For all of The People you’ve murdered, for the tears of fathers, and the heartbreak of wives. For each and every life you’ve stolen….

Lila was close enough now that she could see the naked bodies of Myra and Jarnell piled upon one another. A pool of their collective blood seeped across the ground. Light gray lumps of tissue stuck to the spatter on the tree they laid under. They would never love again, would never laugh, or know the warm embrace of passion. Like so many before them, their lives had been cut short by one of the faceless executioners known only as Sweepers.

The man in white stepped out from behind the tree with his rifle shouldered, ready to unleash death at a moment’s notice. The fool didn’t even realize that the danger he sensed was so close. That it crept up behind him with intent just as murderous as his own. He looked forward, searching the woods with his eyes, but never thought to simply turn around.

The spear felt warm and heavy in Lila’s hands as she took another step forward. Within minutes, she would be close enough to strike. She would know the blood of her enemy and revel in his agony; the spirits of her brothers and sisters would sing ballads of her glory through the vast halls beyond the Veil.. They would finally be able to cross the Shining River and know the peace that only justice could bring.

Justice is not yours to take.

Tolek’s voice was so vivid in Lila’s mind that ,for the first time since she began stalking her prey, she paused. It sounded as if her husband were standing just behind her, leaning over her shoulder and whispering into her ear. His voice was calm, but stern. It was the same tone she’d heard him use countless times when reprimanding the children. But never with her.

He deserves to die, Tolek. You, of all people, know what his kind have done. How they stray into our lands to make widows and orphans.

The clear skin stepped forward as if he suspected the ground were about to crumble beneath his feet. Yet Lila could tell his caution was not born entirely of fear . He moved with the confidence of a hunter, of one who had just begun to fuse his spirit with that of the forest. His instincts were not as keenly honed as hers, of course; but his poise betrayed a skill that would be used to slaughter those who allowed their focus to waver for even the briefest of seconds. He would rob them of life, love, and happiness as easily as other’s might dress in the morning.

This is anger, not justice. There’s no glory in assassination, my wife.

Lila stared at the man’s back, picturing the exact spot that would allow her spear to pierce his heart. She could make it so that he was dead before he even felt pain.  One swift blow, one well placed lunge, would be all it took. Myra, Jarnell, Tolek: they would all be avenged.

You are of The People and you follow the Way. If it’s redress you seek, take it to the Elders.

The voice of Tolek was right, of course. If there was punishment to be doled out for this settler’s crimes, it was not her decision to make. Only the Council of Elders had it within their power to proclaim guilt or innocence, to penalize or pardon. While her instincts sang the Blood Song so strongly that she felt its power surge through her veins, honor and tradition demanded a different path be taken. Killing this man would be no different than claiming that she was as wise and just as the Elders and that was a conceit she was not prepared to claim.

Lowering her spear, Lila stepped backwards as quietly as she’d advanced. Her eyes remained focused on the murderous interloper, but there was no fear of stumbling or giving her position away with an ill-placed step. Her mind had mapped every detail of the terrain as she’d stalked her prey and that inner topography now guided her departure, ensuring that each step was as sure and silent as a tree spirit.

Fate, however, had other plans for her. As she neared a cluster of oaks, a squirrel chittered overhead and the man in white spun around. For a moment, neither man nor woman moved. Their eyes were locked together like partners in a dance older than Time, each gazing upon the face of the enemy and wishing the other dead.

Lila knew she was too far away. Even if she hurled her spear with all her might, it would only barely break the skin. It wouldn’t penetrate the man deeply enough to keep from falling out, much less pierce any of his vital organs. He, however, had the advantage of an Old World weapon with a range even the greatest of The People’s hunters could not hope to match. So she did the only thing she could: Lila ran.

The gun shoot boomed out behind her like the angry rumbling of the Sky God and something whizzed by her ear so closely that she felt it graze her eye. Almost instantaneously, the tree beside her erupted in an explosion of bark, sending splinters of wood flying through the air as the hunk of lead burrowed into its trunk. Though she’d never fired an Old World weapon before, she understood the concept and adjusted her retreat accordingly.

        Zigging and zagging, she ran erratically, allowing instinct to guide her movements. As long as he couldn’t predict her trajectory, his shots would not find their mark. As long as she was as unpredictable as a rabid fox, she would live.

Lila had hoped that the settler would be foolish enough to continue shooting at her, that he would deplete his ammunition and be forced to reload the antique weapon. For that would be all it took to transition from quarry into aggressor.  One moment when he stood, defenseless and alone.

The man, however, wasn’t as stupid as most. As the forest blurred by, she heard him crashing through the undergrowth behind her. He burst through thickets and splashed through streams, cursed between haggard pants as a low hanging branch clipped him on the forehead, and made more noise than an entire herd of deer. But not once did he try to drop Lila in her tracks. Instead of wasting his shots, he simply pursued her, waiting no doubt for an opportune moment to present itself.

Ahead, Lila saw jagged crags of stone rising up from the earth like the walls of some great temple for a forgotten god. Unlike the forest, there was no green: the trees thinned out as they neared the base, devolving into scraggly bushes that looked as if their bark had withered away; grass turned to dirt and the dirt became something as hard and packed as the cliffs towering over it. The surface was covered with pebbles and Lila’s heels kicked up little clouds of dust as she followed a circuitous route through the center of the mountain.

She knew this place. The People called it The River of Life. Winter coated its peaks with snow and ice, which the coming of Spring then melted away. The rocks glistened wetly in the sun and runoff flowed down the precipices like slow-motion water falls. At the end of the journey was the gulch through which Lila now ran. A gully that once a year swelled into a river and quenched the thirst of seedlings struggling to take root.

This was a sacred space, one of those areas that perfectly illustrated what it meant to be alive and in the world. Its power wrapped around Lila like a protective cloak and she felt a shiver course through her soul as she ran. Whether she lived or died was of no consequence: the wind was cool against her face and hair, the ground was firm beneath her feet, and no one would ever inhabit this particular place in time again.

Rounding a bend, Lila leapt over a carpet of dried leaves that had no place being that far into the ravine. She hit the ground with her shoulder, clearing the debris entirely. Smoothly rolling so that she now looked back the way she’d come, Lila sprang to her feet again and raised her spear.

Breathing heavily, she watched for the man to come. The time to run was over. Besides, there was nowhere left to go; on all sides were nothing but sheer walls of rock, so treacherous and steep that even a mountain goat would struggle for purchase.

Ignoring the massive boulders surrounding her, Lila listened to his feet scuttle through gravel and the sharp gasps which accompanied each step.

He was close now.

“I am a hunter in the tribe of Clay,” she whispered, “daughter of The People and chosen wife of Tolek. Today I face my ancestors. May they always walk with me.”

So very close.