Splinter (Whisper Walker Series) (8 page)

I didn’t do it often, now that I had a house and Drake. For some reason, it just felt good to do it every now and again. Kind of being a little rebellious or something.

I found a trap, after the first spot I looked was empty. The trap had been sprung, but nothing was in it besides a bloody foot. Yeah, a foot. Looked like the leg had been gnawed through, either by the trap-pee or something else that saw an easy dinner.

Took longer to find the next trap. This one was sprung and had a squirrel in it. A massive, very evil-looking black squirrel with fangs and a hissing disposition. I stuck my knife through its head and pulled the varmint-from-hell out of the trap. As I did, one of the catches on the trap bent to the side. I tried to get it bent back, but without any of my tools, I couldn’t do a very good job. Hopefully whoever owned the trap wouldn’t notice.

I set off to look for another trap, picking my way through the dense woods. Soon I was into an area I didn’t know very well. As far as I knew, the Ackspecs avoided it for some reason. They called it No-Man’s Land, or something.

I felt my skin tingle as I came up on an opening. Inspection revealed it to be rectangular in shape and severely overgrown. Roots were poking through the dilapidated concrete, crumbling it and showing rust marks from exposed rebar.

The doorway was dark, but I could see a faint light coming from ahead. Curious, I tossed the squirrel to the side of the door and stepped in, ducking an overhanging vine that threatened to knock me a good one if I wasn’t paying attention. I stumbled forward, walking slowly, fingers tracing along one wall for sake of orientation. I tripped a couple of times over rocks and chunks of random debris. At one point I think I got my foot tangled up in some animal bones, but wasn’t sure.

I got to the light, finding it to be a caved-in portion of the passage. It led to a square of once-cleared land, overgrown with vegetation. It was flat and had a busted up statue in the center of the square. I heard a voice.

Hurriedly, I flattened tight against the wall. I kept listening, straining to hear a direction. There seemed to be only the one, but it kept talking in different intonations. One second, hard and forceful. Then next it would speak softly and fearfully. Deciding I knew its whereabouts, I walked sideways, keeping a low profile.

Once out in the square, I crouched and made a mad dash for the statue in the middle – the voice I had heard was not far on the other side.

I peeked around the statue’s leg, what remained of it anyway. I saw a man, his back to me. His finger was up against the concrete wall, and he was painting shapes on it while he talked. Shapes colored in red. I stared for a second, realization sinking in – he was using his fingertip as a writing utensil. He was wearing the tip of it off, drawing on the wall in his own blood.

I sucked in a breath then leaned back behind the statue. I listened closely now.

“…yes, the Magistrate is proceeding as directed. The guard is being halved and the Hunters are being sent on treks from which they won’t return…”

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. Ackspecs being sent on trips they wouldn’t come back from? That meant Drake…I couldn’t think it. I had to get back and tell Drake before he left on one of these trips. Wait, unless… Maybe the man wasn’t Sven. Maybe he was Briln. If only I could get a look at his face.

“…you’re sure that he’s here?” the soft voice asked, quivering.

“Yes. I can feel him. The
Whisper Walker
is here, in your Guild. I must control him for me to pursue future plans,” the forceful voice confirmed.

“Isn’t there a way to get him without destroying the Sven?”

“DON’T QUESTION ME!”

“S-S-Sorry,” the fragile voice stuttered.

I peeked back around the statue, leaning out as far as I dared. The man dropped his hand from the wall, staring for a moment at his bloody, mangled fingertip. He dropped his hand to his side and turned around.

Well, so much for him being Briln. I knew this man. Indirectly. Drake knew him well. I think his name was Josh or James or Jonathan or something like that.

He walked out the door on the other side of the square. I waited, counting to thirty before I got up and headed back the way I had come. I stopped at the door to retrieve my ill-gotten squirrel. Only, it wasn’t there. There were some scattered chunks of fur, and blood was splattered on the ground. Too distracted to really care, I made my way back to town.

With a “humph,” I stared up at the wall. Normally, I used a vine that was hanging down from this tree to get to another tree that allowed me to get over the wall. Only, I guess I forgot to swing the vine back over here after the last time I’d used it because I could see it snagged on a branch over the wall. In other words, where it would be of no use to me.

The wall was mostly smooth, other than porous indentions that would do little to sustain my weight. There was honestly no way to climb it. Even if I did somehow manage to climb it, I’d have a hard time getting past all of the sharp glass and ceramic stuck into the top to keep people from doing what I needed to do.

From all of my circuits around the Guild, I knew that there weren’t any other trees that were closer to the wall than this big one. Left with no other option besides walking up to the Gate and hoping I didn’t get in too much trouble, I started climbing the tree.

The lowest branch that extended towards the wall, still a daunting six meters up, got nowhere near close enough for me to swing to the wall. I had to try it anyway. I
really
didn’t want to go through the Gate.

I slipped over the edge of the branch, shimmying out hand over hand as far as the branch could support me. I started swinging side to side, awkwardly, since the branch pointed at the wall, instead of running parallel to it. When I felt that I had as much momentum as I was going to get, I released towards the wall, bracing for impact. I’d hoped to at least catch my fingers on the edge that was clear of sharp objects. Turned out not to be my lucky day.

I could see myself falling far short of my mark. A small scream escaped my lips as I plummeted towards the ground. My forward momentum was still enough that I slammed into the wall a meter up and slid to the ground like a bird hitting a window. My hands were scraped up from trying to keep my face from smashing into the wall or ground. I laid in the dirt at the base of the wall in a fetal position for a few minutes while I recovered.

Noisy footsteps started coming down the path around the wall. Hurriedly, I pulled myself up behind a bush and watched. A moment later, a trader came into view with a rubber-tired cart pulled by two Sorters in harnesses.

Sorters were the lowest on the caste ladder. Typically barely able to do anything other than obey the simplest of commands, they were left to menial tasks such as Sorting, as their namesake, and physical labor, such as pulling carts. Most Sorters were extremely muscled and well suited to the job.

I could see that both of these Sorters fit the usual bill of strength. They barely seemed to notice the weight of the cart. A plan started forming in my mind.

As soon as the cart and trader were out of sight, I stealthily followed them, keeping to the base of the wall. It was slow going, following the cart. I kept finding myself gaining on them and had to remind myself to slow down so I wouldn’t be detected.

We finally came around to a Gate. Not one of the Gates I’d ever used before, so I didn’t know how vigilant the guards were. The cart stopped outside the Gate as the guard came through, closing it behind him to inspect the cart’s contents thoroughly.

This was where my timing was everything. I couldn’t get into the cart now, or the guard would find me. I had to wait for just the right moment, and I dearly hoped there was room inside the cart for me to fit.

I rolled my eyes at the thought. It’d be just my luck that there would be no room inside the cart and I’d be discovered trying to wriggle in. I could always just make my way back around to the Gate I went in the other day and hope the new guy was on shift. I might not get in trouble then. But where’s the fun in that? I made up my mind; I was going to try this.

A few minutes went by as the guard finished inspecting the cart’s contents. Then he motioned for the trader to step up to the Gate where the guard’s partner handed him some paperwork through the bars. It was perfect. Both of their backs were to the cart. This was my shot.

I ran in a crouch towards the cart. I wasn’t worried about the Sorters seeing me. Even if they did, they could rarely talk, so not a big thing. I got nearly to the cart when I heard the trader say he needed to get something from it. I froze.

Luckily, I’d maneuvered around earlier so that the cart was between him and me. I just dearly hoped he wouldn’t circle the cart to get something from this side.

I waited, breath held, as I heard him rustling around for something. He mumbled, “Ah hah!” and shuffled away from the cart back to the guard, who was waiting patiently at the Gate.

The load on this side of the cart was covered in a tarpaulin that was disheveled from the guard’s search earlier. That left an end loose enough for me to lift up and start to scoot up under. It was a tight fit. At first, I didn’t think I was going to fit. But I was finally able to wedge myself up inside, though my left shoulder was left pressed tightly against the tarp.

The moment I was situated, I heard the trader give the Sorters the command to start forward. I bit my lip as my shoulder smacked roughly against a hard surface, presumably the edge of the Gate. The trader cursing at the Sorters confirmed my suspicions.

All of the sudden, the thought hit me. I’d been thinking so hard about getting inside the cart that I’d forgotten one detail. How the hell was I going to get out? If anyone, the trader included, saw me slide out from under the tarp, I was toast. Yet, if I waited until the trader got to his designated location of business and stopped the cart, he might start unpacking immediately, which would be bad. My pulse was starting to pound inside my ears again.

“You! Trader!” The Magistrate’s booming voice cut through the tarp like paper. The cart came to a halt.

I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Kelsie didn’t believe me. That hurt. I know it all sounded weird, but, seriously here, I’m not crazy. Why couldn’t she at least give me a chance? Since when had I ever seemed nuts?

After I threw on some clothes and my moccasins following the shower incident, I headed out into town. Might as well hit up the ladies of the council and see if any of them needed help or something. Maybe some physical labor would help blow off steam.

I stopped by Jonathan’s house to find his wife up on the roof.

“Hey!” I called. “What are you doing up there? Where’s Jonathan?”

“Oh hey, Drake! I don’t know. He was supposed to help me get this filter down today. He wandered off right before. This thing is being difficult.”

“Hold on for a second. I’ll be right up there.” I walked to the side of the house and picked my way up it, emerging onto the roof in short order.

“You can sure climb like a squirrel. Impressive,” she said, giving me a sweaty smile.

I grinned back at her and grabbed hold of the corner of the purifier. Together we lifted it off, and I held it while she worked to pull out the filter.

I wrestled the assembly back down, setting it into place, somehow without cutting off my fingers in the process. I glanced at the filter and chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say it’s time to change that sucker. You’ve got more soot in here than the chimney at the Development facility.”

She nodded agreement and started dragging it to the edge of the roof. It wasn’t very old, just needed a cleaning and recharge of charcoal and other particulates to be ready for Ash season.

We got the filter off the roof, setting it beside the door to be taken care of later.

I turned to her. “I know this sounds random, but has Jonathan started acting odd lately?”

She paused what she was doing to look up at me. Her face clouded over a little. “Well, yes. He’s been distant and rude lately. I figure he’s just having one of those moods. Why?”

“Just curious,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile.

I excused myself, deciding to check my traps out in the woods. Clean meat was hard to come by and fetched a good price in town.

On route to the Gate, I saw a girl walking down the street. I only caught a glimpse, but she was dressed in odd clothing and very pretty; I didn’t recognize her. In a town of two hundred, you at least know everyone’s faces, if not their names.

I hurried up and followed her. She seemed to drift down the street and then took a corner. I sped up, turning the corner. Nothing was there, just a dead-end.

I inspected the wall, pushing on it, trying to climb it, looking for a hidden hatch or something. I couldn’t find anything. My shoulders twitched in an involuntary shiver. It was unusually cold in the small indentation between the buildings.

I grunted in defeat and headed back on track for the Gate.

It was a pleasant surprise to find two of my traps had small rabbits in them that were mostly clean and would fetch a good price in town. Of the other two traps, one had a rabid raccoon, which I killed and disposed of so something else wouldn’t eat it. The other was empty and still set. But as I was turning away from it in disappointment, I noticed something was off.

I got down close to it, giving it a good going over. I found the source of the visual disturbance. The retaining arm on the side was bent. The stretch marks above and below the bend would make it seem that it had been bent worse, then bent back.

“Well, that’s jacked up,” I mumbled, irritated.

There were a couple tiny drops of blood on the ground next to the trap that I only saw when I got down low. This meant someone had come and stolen my catch. Bastard. When I found out who it was, I was going to have a little “talk” with them.

This person obviously didn’t know that I was a gifted tracker.

Bending down again so I could see the ground better, I started working my way out in a circle from the trap until I was sure which trail belonged to the miserable thief. They were good at keeping their trail minimal, I found out quickly when I lost the trail a couple of times and had to circle around again until I spotted the occasional broken twig or smashed fern.