Elijah, Darryl, and Flynn had been travelling for a long time. None of the three men were entirely sure where they were, anymore. At some point, the changing landscapes became less varied, and everything began to look the same. They could be in Colorado. Or Montana. Or maybe Maine. It wasn't like any of them had a map that had a conveniently placed "you are here" dot. Maps were rare, these days, and so were directions or sign posts. Even the environment, usually reliable to give an idea of what part of the States you were in, could no longer be counted on. Nothing was the same, anymore.
The three men didn't have a destination, not really. Destinations were for those with hope, or if not hope, then at least something to live for. They had neither of these things. As far as they were concerned, they were now nothing more than wanderers, drifters out in the wilds of this broken world, just trying to survive. There was no where to go, anyway. The Hubs weren't finished. The underground covens were selective, too selective for their liking. The Reams weren't the kind of people you wanted to get involved with, let alone share the Surface with.
Any other community was a risk. One the three men didn't want to take, not after their last encounter with a surface community. They were two for two on the "bad encounters with other humans" checklist. None of the three men were too keen on making it three for three.
And so they continued to wander, surviving on whatever they could find in the dead world around them.
Flynn stared into the dying embers of the fire before him. It's warmth was minimal, but he didn't stoke it any further or add anymore wood. They'd be leaving soon, and their wood supply was low as it was. They'd have to be smart, to make the rest of it last. And then they would have to find another supply, either via trees or salvage it from abandoned buildings. Either way, it was a dismal situation to be in, with fall reaching its zenith and winter just around the corner.
Farsia's words kept echoing in his ears. It was why he took this watch. Why he hadn't been able to sleep. Why he couldn't shake this feeling of dread, hovering just over his shoulders.
It isn't over... With the winter comes more death... It won't be the weather you should fear, but the Order.
Flynn glanced over at the other two. They were still sound asleep. He slowly exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. What did Farsia really know, anyway?
As soon as the thought came into his head, another took its place: A chiding voice, mocking him for his foolishness: You know what she knows. Everything. Everything that's about to come, anyway.
That was her gift. She was an Enhanced. She could "see" the future. But "see" wasn't quite the right word... It was more like... remembering the future. She had been odd. There was no other way to say it. He hadn't had much contact with Enhanceds, save Darryl, before her visit. He'd made a point of trying to stay away from them, in fact. He didn't believe the rhetoric of their danger, but he also wasn't so naive to believe they'd all be good company, in the long run.
There was something about Enhanceds that scared him. They had power. Some were dangerous. Some were harmless.
And some, like Farsia, were tormented.
Flynn shouldered the bag he'd been carrying. It wasn't heavy, but after several miles the weight had begun bothering him. He rolled his shoulder out, sighing as he and his other two travelling companions stared down at the community.
"There's no way around it." Elijah noted.
He was right. There were rivers on either side, flowing far too fast to even attempt to cross. They couldn't risk backtracking to find an easier place to cross - they had too little food to risk such an endeavor. Flynn chewed his lip, idly considering their options. There weren't many, but he distained the idea of going into another community.
He glanced at Elijah. "What do you think?"
Elijah frowned. "Why are you asking me?"
"You're the resident community member," Darryl remarked. "We won't make it backtracking and crossing the rivers. So. What do you think about going down there and making some friends?"
Elijah stared down hard at the community below them. He didn't respond at first, then finally sighed. "I don't like it. Not after... Not after what happened with my community. Outsiders are never good news. But it's our only option."
"Great!" Darryl smirked. "Then let's go."
Flynn glanced between the two of them. He adjusted his bag once more, taking one last look at the community before them, then descended down the hill, following the other two.
Elijah trailed behind, matching his stride with Flynn. "I wanted to say..."
"You don't need too."
"No, I do. I didn't mean to imply it was your fault for what happened at my community. I just... Outsiders are never good. That's a fact. But you and Darryl had no say or anyway to know that what happened was going to happen."
"Maybe not. But that doesn't change the fact that you're right. We were, at least in part, responsible."
Elijah didn't respond.
They entered the community as dusk fell. A silence hung over the community, the same silence that hung over many communities these days. The same silence that seemed to stalk the three of them, wherever they wandered. Hardly anyone was out on the streets, which wasn't unusual. Word had travelled fast, from what they could gather, about the attack on Elijah's community.
Korvna, they were calling it. The Killer. Elijah had shared the community had once been called Grotinaya. Gorgeous. It had been gorgeous, before Darryl and Flynn had arrived. But there was no dwelling on the past. Not anymore. Flynn had to focus on their current predicament.
There was a drinking house not far from the entrance. They headed there, hoping to seek out a place to stay and perhaps some information. But once inside they were met with the same silence that permeated the community's main road. Flynn glanced at the others. A drinking house, silent, at dusk? It was strange.
"Stay close," Flynn muttered. "Something's up."
He could see out of the corner of his eye that Darryl's hand had wandered to his belt, gripping the knife hilt. Flynn shot his own hand out, resting it on Darryl's arm. He shook his head slightly. Darryl, reluctantly, lowered his hand.
The three of them headed over to the bar, but the bartender was no more willing to speak than any of the patrons. In fact, the entire drinking house was watching them now. It gave Flynn the feeling of being an ant stuck under a microscope. He didn't like it.
"Let's get out of here," Darryl grumbled.
Flynn sighed, trying once more to speak with the bartender. "What about a room? Is there anyone who can put us up for the night?"
The bartender finally turned to them, a look of annoyance on his face. Annoyance, and fear. Flynn blinked as the man slowly raised an arm, pointing to a hallway shooting off the side of the house. Flynn, nodding his thanks, turned with the others and headed that way.
The hallway was gloomy, dusty photos of bygone days hanging haphazardly along the wall. The only light came from the failing dusk that filtered in from the open front door, and it was hardly enough to illuminate the space.
All three men stopped as they neared the end of the hallway, stopping in front of the only door that was cracked ajar. They looked at each other.
"Do we... Go in?" Elijah asked.
Flynn frowned, nodding as he pushed the door open. A girl whirled, eyes widening as she saw the three men. Another woman sat on a dirty bed, bed frame broken so that the mattress bent oddly in the middle. The woman was curled over herself, arms wrapped tightly around her legs and head between her knees. Her long, dark, tangled hair hid her face. The girl held a brush limply in her hand, and the three men realized she must have been trying to brush out the woman's tangled hair.
"She said you'd come," the girl muttered. "She knew... She always knows."
The men looked at each other again. "Who are you?" Flynn asked finally.
"I'm Neila. This is Farsia... She is our prophet. She... said you would come."
Flynn frowned. "She's an Enhanced."
"Y-yes." The woman - Farsia - shuddered, moaning weakly. Neila rested a hand on the woman's back, glancing back at the men.
"Is she okay?"
"Yes. She does this at times. I try to care for her in anyway I can, but it is not easy. The more she sees... It's like she forgets more. She started to lose the memory of her family not long after she began to manifest her power. Then her friends faded. Her home, her own history... It all faded from her memory. She's begun to even forget how to take care of herself."
"It's like she can only remember the future." Elijah said suddenly. Flynn glanced at him, surprised.
"Yes, exactly," Neila said.
"I had a friend... back in my community... She had the same ability. It got so bad that she had to have a care person with her every moment of the day and night. She eventually..."
Elijah stopped. He pursed his lips, staring at the ground in front of him. Neila walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder and slowly drawing him into a hug. When she pulled back, a small smile was on her face. "Such is the cruelty of life."
"Indeed," he whispered.
Neila turned back to Farsia's side. "I fear that there will come a day that that may be her fate. But for now, I do what I can."
"It's a noble thing to do," Flynn stated. "You mentioned... You said that she said we were coming?"
Neila nodded. "Yes. She knew you'd come. Knew the Silence would fall upon our community. Even knew about the Event."
Darryl and Flynn glanced at each other. "She's been Seeing for a long time."
"What was so special about our arrival?" Darryl asked. "It's my understanding Seers don't see trivial visions. They're usually of some importance. The Event. Whatever this Silence is."
"No one's talking about the Silence. Just like no one talks about the Event. Those who talk..."
"End up dead," Flynn finished.
"Exactly."
"Why aren't you infected?"
"I don't know. I came to the community later - after it was established, but I was here before the Silence fell..."
Farsia moaned again, her body writhing as her arm rose with jerking motions. It pointed, shakily, at Flynn. "You..."
Flynn blinked. He took a very small, very tentative step forward. Farsia continued, her body still writhing to some offbeat, unheard rhythm. "You... are the one.... I've waited... for..."
Neila looked between the two of them, her forehead creasing as Farsia struggled to raise her head. She rushed over to the bed, aiding the woman and keeping her balanced.
Flynn could do nothing but stare. The woman's eyes were almost white, and it was nearly impossible to make out their blue irises. Her tangled hair hung around her face, like a shoal of darkness, drawing him in.
"Winter... Comes... Bringing Death... I see... You and a woman... A war, worse than the one before, worse than the fighting after... the Event... I see... An organization... The Order... They seek something... Something that could... Destroy the world. You must... find the girl... and keep her safe... She is the only one who can stop this!"
Farsia's voice had slowly risen, until the last sentence was more of a shout than her initial murmur. Neila caught the woman as she fell back into the bed, head lolling weakly to one side. She didn't look concerned, and Flynn wondered how many times she'd had to see this.
"We should let her rest," Neila spoke softly. They quickly exited the room, Flynn turning back to her as she closed the door behind them.
"What was that?"
"I told you-"
"No, I mean... What'd she mean, war? What is the Order? And who's the girl?"
She closed her eyes, sighing softly. "I'm sorry. She says what she sees, and then you're lucky if you get a moan out of her for another couple of weeks. The only one who can answer those questions now, is you."
Neila rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's best not to fixate too much on it. What happens, happens. For now, however, Farsia did inform me you'd need a room to stay for the night. You can stay at my house - not that I'm using it anyways." She handed him a bronze key with a oak leaf carved into it.
A feeling of unease slowly settled over Flynn. He turned, beginning to make his way back to the front of the drinking house, desperate to get out of the building.
"There's one more thing," Neila called after him. He turned once more, staring back at her. "Farsia's visions... They always come true. It's like your friend said... She doesn't just see possible futures, or really see the future at all... She remembers it."
Farsia stared down at the bed covers. They were old, dust and dirt and age fading the original paisley design. She ran her hand idly over the teardrop shapes, soft exhalations escaping her lips. The exhalations, fragments of visions themselves, were lost to the empty room. Nobody heeded their meaning, not even Farsia herself. They were all tiny things, of no real import. Flashes of memory of futures to be lived that didn't really matter.
No. That wasn't true. All of the future mattered. It's just... some of it mattered more. Just because she didn't preach it, didn't mean she wasn't constantly bombarded with visions. A little boy's smile as Elijah gave him his button, worn loose from his cloak. A girl, soot-covered, fumbling with a MedScan and trying to save a burn victim from the latest firebombing attack. A woman submitting transfer papers to be sent to The Center, one of the three main Hubs. They weren't finished yet, but when they were...
Farsia blinked, grasping the paisley bedcover and pulling it tightly up to her chest, rocking back and forth. Visions continued to plague her, some important, some less so. She couldn't connect the dots. She never could. She could only inform. It was up to others to decipher the meanings.
The visions were more and more frequent, the periods of quiet less and less. Soon they'd be gone altogether. Tears threatened to slip from her closed eyes. She was struggling to even remember Neila, the brave girl who had been so kind to her. It wouldn't be long until she looked upon her in a second of quiet and wouldn't recognize her. Wouldn't understand why the girl was brushing her tangled hair, let alone be able to do it herself. The visions were swallowing her whole, and soon all that would remain would be an empty husk, filled with futures about to be lived.
Filled with a futuristic past she could no longer grasp, only relay.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
