Robinson Crusoe 2244 (16 page)

But eventually, the barricade took shape. To fill all three entranceways, he had amassed the shells of twenty-nine vehicles. Each row stood five meters high with only a few small fissures that he filled with whatever recycled materials were at hand—discarded baskets from the carts, half the shell of an old school bus, and rusty road signs. When he was sure no significant-sized threat could burrow its way inside, he broke down spades from wrought iron fences and built a stone grader to sharpen them. He positioned these lances pointing outward to fend off any enemy that got too close.

As an extra measure of caution, Robinson retrieved four drums worth of oil from the park, using a stirrup pump fabricated from vehicle parts and an old garden hose. He used the crane to lift them to the top of the roof where he could push them off any of the building’s four corners at a moment’s notice.

Lastly, he made an addition to the crane that raised the wooden lift from one side of the barrier to the other. When they were within the structure, the lift was inaccessible to anyone outside. When they ventured out, the lever to release it was hidden in a small cleft laden with resin and broken glass.

Next he began work on a water system that fed directly from the river. Thankfully, he had done a report on hydrodynamics in school, so he understood the basic principles. All it took was the construction of a small waterwheel with support beams, an axel, and rotating glassware that fed to a series of old pipes that ran into the memorial. It emptied into a boiler tank heated by firewood.

This allowed him another luxury: he could bathe. The Old Man had refused to clean himself for fear the odor would make him more identifiable to the renders, but Robinson wasn’t worried, being surrounded by so much foliage.

Robinson had also made tallow candles from the fats of animals, but those with high lipid counts were hard to come by. Still, when he heated his last batch, he found some left over in the double boiler. He decided to mix it with oils distilled from eucalyptus, lavender, and sunflower seeds in the hope of making soap. But somewhere along the way, the mixture got screwed up and he woke with a terrible rash. Even worse, the smell of the stuff was so bad, Resi slept on the other side of the memorial for three days and always walked upwind of him when outside.

One morning, Robinson woke to find a chill in the air and he knew winter was around the corner. Twenty-two days had passed since the Old Man had left. Although his new home was secure, he’d put off two of the most important tasks for too long.

The first task was to stockpile food. Since his primary diet was animal protein, he knew it would be hard to come by during the winter months, so he built a smoker that he used to dry thin strips of meat at a low temperature for over six to twelve turns. This would preserve the meat for weeks, if not months, though the burning smoke did draw a few renders during the daylight hours.

The other task was to find a source of heat for the memorial, since the wind came straight off the river and might otherwise turn their new home into a block of ice. Robinson returned to the library. From parabolic boilers to geothermal heating, to stoves that burned propane, gas, or corn, there were a myriad of options. The one he ultimately decided on was a wood-burning stove since it would be easy to maintain. To prevent the smoke from identifying his location, he decided to only use it at night.

While these projects did their best to distract him during the day, nothing could soothe the loneliness he felt at night. When he wasn’t reading books aloud to Resi, he was sitting atop the roof, staring through an eyeglass he had discovered in a museum. His eye was set to the stars, hoping each passing meteor was a flyer whose light would grow brighter and brighter until it touched down outside the memorial, where his father would stumble out. He would look around, see his son, and smile, saying, “I knew you’d be all right.” But the stars never halted. Nor did the night. And Robinson knew, as surely as he knew anything, that he would never see his loved ones again.

When the nights were too cold to venture outside, he lay in bed, holding his mother’s locket. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell her scent ingrained in its links. When those memories became too much to bear, he took it off, wrapped it carefully in a rag, and pushed it into the recesses of some old pipes and tried to forget about it for a while.

The day that changed everything began with rain and ended with fire. In between, the sky was blotted with smoldering clouds across which flocks of birds trudged silently south against prevailing winds. Ill omens were plentiful when he looked for them. Robinson had done everything in his power to avoid these signs. And yet there was no denying the one portent he had been dreading for twenty-nine days: the killing moon. It had returned, wholly waxed and blush—so foreboding that by late afternoon, it had driven everything else from the sky.

Robinson tried to stay busy. He clung to routine. But in the end, nothing could ease the sense of dread building inside him. Resi also seemed tense.

They retreated early and fortified the barricade. They blocked every door. They sealed every window. But nothing could keep the darkness out forever. There was only the wait and the silence before the storm.

When he could take it no longer, Robinson took his eyeglass up to the roof, ignoring Resi’s cries. And as surely as the world turned, his worst fears were confirmed.

It came with a crimson sail and black sigil. It came with the paddling of oars and the beating of drums. But this time, it also came with the one person who would change the course of his life forever.

She was pulled from the ship with a group of prisoners, hustled in leather bonds toward the cages that sat just off the river’s edge. Had she gone meekly like the rest of the chattel, he would have never noticed her. But this girl had fight.

She refused to enter the cage willingly, so a savage captor struck her across the back with a staff. Her legs buckled but only for a second. Then she spun and hit the man as hard as she could. Her wrists were bound together, so it was her elbow that struck him across the bridge of his nose. He went down screaming.

A second savage swung his staff at the girl, but she stepped effortlessly out of its way before leaping forward and butting the brute in the head. He too went down. Unlike his friend, he did not get up. Unfortunately, before the girl could run, three other savages tackled her and forced her to the ground. Punches and kicks followed. A spear went up, but it never came down. At that last moment, a meaty hand had wrapped around it, staying the killing blow. It was the hand of Savage Chief.

He said something to his men and they laughed. He then grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her, kicking and yelling, into the cage. Once the door was closed, Savage Chief headed for the monolith, but his eyes stayed on the girl.

She had black hair and dark skin. Even from afar, Robinson could see the tone of her muscles and the fire in her eyes. Her head spun around as she tested the lock on the cage and the corners where it had been tied. The savage whose nose she had broken came over to taunt her but leaped back when her hands shot through the bars.

The drums drew out the renders. The first pair appeared out of the park, lumbering together in a strange unison. Only when they leaped over a small gorge did Robinson realize they were not a pair, but two renders fused as one. The beast writhed and howled as it maneuvered around the fires to where the first of four prisoners was chained to the obelisk. Each held a weapon but none had any fight. The creature attacked. The prisoners died.

Like the previous bloodletting, Robinson could not turn away. But this time, he was no longer willing to just stand by and watch. The sight of the girl and her continued struggle prompted him to act.

Without thinking, he rushed down the ladder and stripped to his trousers. In the corner was a vat of crude oil that he had used to make resin. He opened it and slathered the black liquid over his face and body until he was covered. Then he recovered a small bag of tools. Resi barked his disapproval, but he refused to let it dissuade him.

He crept along the riverbank, keeping watch of both the savages on shore and those aboard the ship. Two men sat atop the bow, drinking some intoxicating concoction and howling at every gory death.

As Robinson moved closer, he saw a wave of renders try and attack from the eastern side. One of the savages tossed several small clay pots of flammable liquid into the fray. A companion slung a torch in seconds later. The conflagration instantly lit up the creatures and the night. The chorus of inhuman shrieks was deafening, but it was the stench of burning flesh that rolled over him seconds later that nearly had him spilling his guts. When he stumbled in the water, the nearest savage turned toward him. He ducked behind some reeds, heart thundering, hoping he hadn’t been seen.

The drums picked up in tempo as the savages chanted some evil verse over and over. Near the ship’s edge, Robinson could see two of the savages caught in some frenetic dance, their eyes stark and white, their mouths lolling open, screaming in ecstasy as they writhed. Some had sharpened their teeth to points while others had pierced their bodies with human bones. All bore black tattoos in patterns across their chests and backs.

Three more prisoners were hauled out of the cages. They were so thoroughly traumatized that the savages did not even bother tying them up. One was given a spear. Another a bow and arrow. The third ran for a sword on the ground just as his wrist was caught in the claws of a render’s foot. The man screamed as others closed in. His companion tried to string the bow but fumbled it. A second later, he paid for the mistake with his life.

As Robinson neared the ship, he dipped into the water, swimming beneath the gangplank as feet stomped overhead. The cages were strung along the waterside, the girl’s cage closest to him. From this distance, he was able to see her more closely. One eye was swollen shut and blood coursed down the side of her face. But she wasn’t wallowing in fear or getting caught up in the spectacle. She was biting the leather bonds wrapped around her wrists.

Near the monolith, one prisoner was putting up a good fight, fending off two renders with a spear. Tears spilled down his cheeks, but he never cried out. When he managed to stab one of the beasts through the neck, the savages cheered. Savage Chief forced the other render on him, hoping for even more excitement.

That’s when Robinson made his move.

The girl spun in shock when he hit the cage from behind. She must have thought a demon had come for her the way he’d slunk out of the river, white eyes on a body that was as slick and as dark as night. He put a finger to his mouth just as a savage grabbed an older female prisoner from another cage and dragged her away.

Once he was gone, the girl turned back to Robinson, but he was already trying to cut the straps from her cage. Unfortunately, the punch he was using was blunt. He cursed his luck for losing the Old Man’s knife those weeks before.

“
Quem ni
?” the girl spoke, her voice raspy but clear.

Robinson motioned for her to be quiet. He went back to work on the straps, this time stabbing them with the tool. The girl shook her head and thrust her hand through the bars.

“
Diasa
,” she hissed. “
Di-a-sa
!”

He handed her the punch. She slid it through the leather straps, holding the lock in place. She rotated it until the leather groaned. Another cry pierced the night. At the monolith, the two remaining prisoners stood back to back, both gravely wounded. The head of one had already begun to dip. It wouldn’t be long before he fell, followed by his companion. When that happened, Savage Chief would signal for more prisoners to sacrifice.

Robinson nodded for her to hurry and she motioned for help. He crept to the front of the cage, keeping low to avoid attracting those on the ship. He reached in and pushed the top of the punch as she pulled from the bottom. The leather bindings stretched and then snapped. The lock fell into the grass and the door cracked open. He waved her toward the water, but when he glanced back, she was heading for the other cages.

“No!” he hissed. “They’ll see you!” But the drums drowned out his words.

A young, muscular savage with human skulls capping both shoulders stood in front of the cage. When the last prisoner at the monolith buckled, he cheered and swung his dagger as if he were caught in the throes of battle. Behind him, the girl stalked closer. Unfortunately, the other prisoners couldn’t contain themselves and one cried out. The savage turned, but before he could raise a weapon, the girl was on him, plunging the punch deep into his neck and catching his body as he fell.

Robinson thought the deadly act had gone unseen, but then he heard a shout from above as one of the savages on the bow pointed frantically in her direction.

In an instant, all eyes turned toward them and the drums went silent. The savages were confused, too preoccupied by the curtain of renders to immediately process what was happening. But then Savage Chief burst through the fray. When he saw the girl, a murderous rage filled his eyes. He pointed to her and yelled.