smokeSCREEN: bookONE

"Fuck, even I didn't think he could do that," Michelle says, staring at me. Like Lisa, she for a moment is afraid, and her brow creases. "Do it again."

There's a flash of silver and steel, and the staff rests comfortably at my side.

"…what?" Michelle says. There is a toc, like a marble hitting pavement. Then another. And another. Michelle looks down to see the beads of her necklace pouring onto the ground. She's just staring. Behind Lisa, Crow is grinning – the first time I've seen her smile. Lisa raises her rifle and lets it rest against her shoulder.

"We'll keep him – for now," Lisa says. Cat and Crow smile – Sophia just pushes on ahead. Michelle stays behind long enough to whisper, harsh and hot in my ear;

"I'm glad you're quick with a blade, but I'm a crack shot."

She squints against the sun, and turns so it's at her back.

"If you try to run, I'll kill you myself."

* * *

* * *

now if a six / turned out to be nine / i don't mind / i don't mind // if all the hippies / cut off all their hair / i don't care / i don't care // cause i've got my own world to live through

* * *

* * *

By noon, we're reaching the furthest point any of us had ever dared venture.

The south end, if anyone's talking about it, means through the fields to where the rich people used to live, which is an island of mansions that floats somewhere south of the perimiter highway. Even across the ten miles of prarie, the million-dollar houses can be seen rising from the cool pulse of the tall grass.

We six stand, staring out over those tall grasses, down the stretch of hot broken road leading to the South End.

"How long for you guys?" I ask.

"…what do you mean?" Lisa says. Michelle takes a knee and scoops up some earth, testing the winds.

"Eight years," she says.

"Five, for us," I tell her as I light a cigarette. "We swooped around south of you guys, trying to get to East Kildonan – ended up right on this spot."

"What happened?" Sophia says. I've never heard Sophia speak – she has a higher voice than I expected.

"A pack of feral dogs attacked us from out of the grass. One kid was mauled, another we buried – just over there." I point to a still-undisturbed cairn of stones, fifty feet east.

Everyone observes an impromptu moment of silence, before Crow asks the next question;

"How many have you guys lost in all?"

"Hush, Crow," Michelle whispers. All I can hear is the wind in the grass.

"…what is it?" I say.

"She has no right to ask you questions like that. That's just the sort of stuff Phoebe wants to know."

"Yeah, all the more reason he should tell us," Lisa chimes in.

"How many have you lost?" I ask. Lisa regards me, considering for a moment, before saying;

"Fifteen – eleven to you guys." I glance to Michelle, who nods, solemnly.

"Thirteen," I say. "Eight to you."

"What do you think that says?" Crow pipes up again. "That we're worse at surviving, or that you're better at killing?"

I take a drag and think that I really should respond to this, though for a second I don't know what to say.

"I think…" I begin, still considering. "…it means, at the rate things are going, in another forty years we'll all be dead."

That ends the Q and A session.

"…so let's get to work," I say, taking the first step on the final stretch south.

* * *

We travel in silence, taking uneasy footsteps across the forbidden country. Nothing but the wind in the grass that presses around us, and the increasingly hot Sun overhead.

"Shh!" Michelle suddenly hisses. "Do you hear that?"

We all stop and raise an ear to the wind.

"…is that a dog?" Sophia says, reaching for something in an oversized pocket.

"No," Michelle says. "It's… it sounds like an engine."

We all strain to hear. Soon, it's clearly an engine.

"Where is it?" We turn out into a circle, scanning the grassy abyss for the source.

"It's south," I say.

"It can't be south – nothing's south," Lisa snaps back. But she listens, all the same.

"No, he's right – it's south of us," Crow says. "What the fuck is it?"

"It's not too big," I say.

"Whoever it is, they're not going to spot us before we spot them – into the grass," Lisa says.

"I'm not going in that grass," Sophia says plainly.

"Then I'll knock you out and drag you in," Michelle barks, gripping the younger woman's collar. "Get in there!" She throws Sophia in after Cat. Crow and I sink into the long grasses beside each other. My hand loosely holds the staff, hers the shotgun. She double-checks that it's loaded before double-checking her belt for ammunition.

"Ready set?" Michelle says quietly, somewhere in the grass nearby.

"Set," Crow says quietly.

"Set," Cat echoes to our left.

"Set."

"Set."

"Set," I say.

"Hold," Michelle says. Crow leans back on her haunches and sits, crossing her legs beneath her. She looks quickly to me – her eyes that icy-cold blue – and whipers;

"Hold means we're gonna' be here a while – don't light a smoke – just keep your eyes open."

I lean back and cross my legs, nodding.

"If you see something, call Sight, and the direction – like Sight Northwest, or something – but not too loud."

"Crow, you want to shut up?" Lisa hisses nearby. "I'm trying to listen."

The engine's getting louder. Crow and I slowly lean back on our hands and move backwards through the grasses, until we feel more shielded from the road.

"Soon," she whispers.

The engine's getting louder.

The engine's roaring. And now it screams by us – it looked like an SUV.

"Hold!" Michelle whispers harshly. I can hear her moving through the grass. "Clear – but low!" she calls. Crow bends so she's still covered by the grasses and makes her way to the edge of the field. "Cypress – check it out."

I whip out my telescope and point it down the road the the SUV.

"Two Old Ones – maybe like, fifty or so. A younger guy driving – one of them has…" I lean back and blink, then look again. "…yeah, he's got an assault rifle."

"Where'd he find an assault rifle? The army base was cleared out."

"I'm not sure they're from around here," I say as I collapse the telescope and find my smokes. "California plates."

* * *

We're still heading south – Old Ones from California or no, we still need to find out how many dogs are in the South End.

Soon we can clearly see the overgrown but intact windows of the old mansions. The streets are empty, but clean. No rubble from the few smashed buildings.

"You guys never got this far?" I ask. Michelle shakes her head.

"You?"

"Never – looks like someone got here before us." Lisa nods.

"They've got a fire further south," Crow calls down. I hadn't noticed, but she's climbed to a second story window. She drops to the pavement ahead of us and takes up the lead.

"Hold on – I'm not sure we should go any further," Sophie says now. There is a quick glance, from Crow to Michelle and Lisa to check for rank, and Crow stops and comes back, shoving the shorter girl lightly.

"You gonna' be the one who tells Phoebe we chickened? You wanna' be the one?" She gives Sophie another push, and Sophie pulls down her touque and nods.

"Ready set," Lisa says. They all ready their weapons. I slide the staff from my back and take a step forward in time to see Crow wink at me.

"Set," we call in unison.

"Three block spread," Michelle says. Lisa nods and we split into two groups, heading in opposite directions. Cat, Michelle and I head west while Lisa, Crow and Sophie go east. When we're a block away from the main street, Michelle turns us south, and we proceed towards the tiny whiff of smoke – though it is strange we never saw it before.

Soon, we come out of the sidestreet to see the lawn of one of the larger houses full of cars – big ones, small ones. Two motorbikes.

Inside the house, flames flicker in the windows, and people are shouting. I peer east and see Lisa leaning out of a backyard, staring at the house.

The Sun is waning from midday to dusk, and we hear the engine in the distance again. Michelle pulls me back and flashes a hand signal to Lisa.

We shrink back into the long shadows, and after a time the SUV barrels down the street and onto the lawn. The two old ones from before jump out and shout up to the house.

"It's ripe!" one of them calls.

"See any dogs?" one from the house asks.

"Saw a pack following, but we left them half a mile back. Should probably lock up 'till we got them all."

As if on cue, a single bark sounds, echoing off the empty houses.

Michelle and I look to each other, and she nods, pulling back, motioning to Cat. Cat puts a hand to her mouth a barks back. If I hadn't seen it, I would have sworn it was a real dog.

As we gather back at the road to the city, a howl rises above the island of high-priced homes.

"Wasn't me," Crow says. "Sun's going down – let's get back."

"Right," Michelle nods.

"What about the scooter?" Sophie asks quietly behind us.

Another howl.

"Between the dogs and those Old Ones, I say we turn back now," Lisa says, tightening the strap that holds her rifle secure to her back.

"What happens if we go back without the scooter?" I ask. No one really has an answer.

"Depends on how serious she is about wanting one," Michelle says.

"How serious was she?" I ask. Michelle shrugs.

"We won't know until we get back."

* * *

In a last-ditch effort, we search the nearest four houses for a scooter – Sophie finds a skateboard.

An hour and a half later, the Sun has set and we've nearly reached the north edge of the grasslands. The city, usually so dark and foreboding now seems to offer nothing but protection.

And now another howl echoes over the grass. We freeze. Our blood freezes.

Now a bark.

My eyes dart to Crow, then to Cat. They're both terrified.

Another bark. And another. Something is moving through the grass.

"Stay together!" Lisa calls. "Together!"

A booming howl sounds, and a huge black shape bursts through the grasses and rushes us. Lisa jumps back as Michelle pulls up her rifle.

Ka-BOOM!

The dog yelps, but keeps coming – it jumps for Sophie, and in a flash of silver its right shoulder and head crash to the ground just shy of the body.

The blade's slick with blood, and I turn again to face the grass.

"There's one!" Crow yells, pulling up her shotgun as a German-shepherd cross shoots towards us. Both barrels flare to an echoing boom, and the dog's torso blows open – it trips over its paws and tumbles to a bloody stop ten feet away.

Suddenly another has Lisa's leg – she clubs it with the butt of her rifle and it falls away before Michelle shoots it twice. In the confusion I don't see whatever hits me from behind, and as the claws tear at my back, I barely hear another shotgun blast.

I throw the dog's carcass off and stand, gritting my teeth as my jacket scrapes against the cuts on my back.

For a few minutes it's savage. The thunder of their guns – blood splattering the pavement – howls and cries and screams, until I stumble back, wiping sweat from my brow and find there are no dogs left to kill.

A bark. And another. Further away.

We stand for a long time, listening for another bark, before finally collapsing to the ground.

"Twenty minute break," Lisa says. "Eat and head back."

Cat and Sophie pull out five apples and give one each to the girls. Michelle splits hers to share with me, and we sit in a quiet circle as Sophie, gloves and all, dresses Lisa's leg before moving on to Cat's shoulder – a dog had bitten her bullet wound. She's about to attend to my back when we hear the engine coming from the south. Someone heard the rifles, and it's almost deafening already.

"Scatter!" Lisa shouts. I wince as I stand, and Michelle hands me the staff as a huge van barrels up the south road and skids to a halt. I quickly pull up my armband so it covers my eyes. Six old ones, armed to the teeth jump out and tell us to hold still.

My pack and belt are pulled away, and something yanks at the staff. The girls start screaming.

"Can't you see he's blind?" Michelle barks. I hear a thump and a cry, and now just shuffling of feet. They leave me the staff, and I'm led into the van to have my wrists bound.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, I'm pulled from the van with the others. A short conversation ensues;

"They're all clean – where'd you find them?"

"Out by the fields."

"…they look healthy."

"Except those two – the boy's blind and the skinny one doesn't look promising."

"Put them in there, then – make sure it's locked tight. Throw the others in the pen and put some guards on them."

I'm pushed along until I trip over a board and fall onto a concrete floor. My legs are heaved in after me, and I can hear someone stumbling to not fall on me.

As the door slams and locks, I pull my armband from my eyes and survey the dim room.

A single shaft of light from the full moon outside penetrates a window and illuminates a pair of legs. In the darkness, I can't be sure who they're attached to, but they're slim enough to presume it's Crow.

"Good trick with the blindfold," she whispers. "…I don't know what they're on – I'm not skinny."

"Where are we?" I slide the blade from the staff and let the rope at my wrists split against it. They fall off easily, and I stand and draw the blade fully.

"In a garage near the house they took over," she says. Crow holds out her wrists and the blade flashes between them – the rope falling to the floor.

"The others?" I ask. Even in the dim light, her eyes are pale and cold as a crackes sapphire.

"I didn't see." She stands and tries to see out the window – not tall enough. "Have you ever seen so many Old Ones gathered together?" I shake my head. And their skin… it was all… broken and sore."

"They must be nomads, scavenging, moving north," I say as I pull off a boot and slide a thin metal canister out.

"What's that?" she asks. "Explosives?"

"Better,' I say. I open it and hold one out for her.

"Smokes," she smiles, then shakes her head as she takes it. "You're a creature of habit, Cypress." I light her smoke and begin poking around in the back of the garage.

"If you have smokes, the rest takes care of itself." She raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Really," she says. I hold up a case of old beer bottles.

"Really," I say. "Find some rags."

* * *

* * *

we're the league that serve the justice / we're the confident ones / come run amongst us / and conquer someone // some come to seek honour / some seek to wreak havoc / either you do or don't have it / if we speak it, it's tragic // when the sun rises / are you surprised that i'm a beast / leather-faced / wicked / cracks that start to crease

* * *

* * *

I wait in the shadows by the door while Crow finishes the molatov cocktails – the jerrycan in the back was a lucky find. Soon, without warning or footstep the door swings open. I can't see what's on the other side, but I leap forward and swing my sword in a horizontal cut through the door. It slices three-quarters of the way through and I don't hear a cry from the other side, but when I jerk it back through the door, the end is slick with blood and I hear a body collapse. Quickly, I drag the body inside and gently close the door, flipping it for a quick search.

It's a man, thirty-eight or so with two weeks of beard and a face covered in scars and a few open sores. My cut spilled his bowels and severed his spinal cord just below his ribcage – he hadn't suffered.

A whip is still gripped in his hand, and a set of keys in the other. Perhaps he came to torture us. I look up to Crow, who's stopped in the middle of stuffing a rag and is staring at the body.

"Yes?" I say. She shakes it off and keeps working.

On the body I find no smokes or food, but his boots are better than mine and we're the same size, so I switch with him.

Now, as I help Crow with the last of the cocktails and she finds a good canvas bag to carry them in, I realize what she must be thinking.

"This is different," I tell her. She seems surprised to hear me speak, and looks up from her search.

"Different from what?" she asks.

"I wouldn't… kill one of you to escape," I say. She stands and shoulders the bag of bottles, shaking her head.

"Sure you would," she says. "I'd do the same." She glances up again with those fiercely cold blue eyes – too cold, maybe – and I'm locked for a second.

I shake it off, slip the blade into the staff and reach for the doorknob.

"Ready set?" I say. She shakes her head;

"Take off your shirt, we need to look at the cuts."

"We can deal with that later-"

"We can deal with it now."

"Right now we don't know what they're doing with the others – the bleeding's stopped, I'm fine." She readies a Bic lighter and one of the cocktails.

"Set," she says. I open the door to the screaming crickets and empty night sky, and the two of us slip out among the shadows.

"Weapons or the others?" I ask once we're facing the big house.

"Weapons first – then the others."

"Agreed – best location?"

"One of the cars – still in the van, most likely. They have better equipment than we do – they probably won't be interested in salvaging it." We sneak around the side of the garage until we can see the front yard – none of the Old Ones are around, but the large van is there, plain as day.

Crow and I don't speak, but we do seem to go into the same mode, sitting back on our haunches and patiently surveying the area.

"Three lights on in the house," I say.

"Twenty-five cars – at three people per car that's seventy-five Old Ones."

"Plus the motorbikes."

"I want my shotgun," she grimaces – she does look naked without it. The van is twenty yards away – but it's all open ground, lit well by moonlight.

"I'll go first," I say. It is logical – if I get into a bind, I'll have my sword, and I know how to use it.

"Good plan," she nods. …I didn't expect that.

I lean forward and prick my ears – nothing – not even the echoing footsteps of some distant sentry. My knuckles turn white on the staff and I leap forward, dashing quickly across the twenty yards to the van. Looking back towards the garage, Crow has entirely disappeared in the shadows – I can only make out those pale eyes.

I slip under the van and crawl to the front driver's door – it's unlocked, and I silently lift the handle to slip into the cab. In the back of the van I indeed find my pack, belt, various other bags and Crow's shotgun, as well as a few of their handguns and blades. Lisa's and Michelle's high power rifles, however, are absent, along with the high power rounds. I empty the food and safety gear from my larger pack and pour the girls' weapons and supplies into it, hefting the load onto my shoulder. Toting Crow's shotgun in my free hand, I silently hop back out the driver's side door and lean back on my haunches on the grass, making sure everything is good and still. In the pitch black shadows of the garage, I can still make out Crow's blue eyes.

Two small barks sound nearby, just as I dash back across the lit ground to the garage. I silently fold against the wall to the ground and slip off the pack.

"Was that you?" I whisper.

"It was Cat," she says, snatching away the shotgun and checking – still loaded. "Give me my belt."

I find her utility belt in my pack and hand it over – she quickly finds a pocket and pulls out a flask. "Take off the shirts – now – while I'm doing this you can find my ammo."

I nod, removing my shirts. The cool wind eases as it agitates the cuts and gouge on my back, and I grit my teeth under Crow's gloved touch as she cleans the cuts.

"What does two barks mean?" I whisper over my shoulder.