Growth
Chapter 4: The Beginning

After breakfast, Calvin instructed Clare to grab her backpack and meet him at the stern of the ship. Alfred did the same with Alice. It was another nice day outside. Clear skies and fresh air.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here,” Calvin said when everyone had gathered. Raven and Felix were present as well. For some reason, they had big and rather unnerving smirks.

“We talked it over,” Alfred continued, “and we’ve decided on the best way for your training to begin. What’s most important for Protectors and humanity as a whole is to be able to survive in the wild. That being said…”

Raven and Felix rushed forward, grabbed the unsuspecting women, and threw them into the water.

“See you down in New Orleans!” the Protectors called back as the boat left them in its wake.

“What the fuck?!” Alice screamed in pure rage.

Clare wanted to scream too, but she was too busy trying to stay afloat with her flailing motions.

“What the hell are you doing?” Alice asked.

“Can’t. Swim.” The poor girl was doggy-paddling like her life depended on it, which it very much did.

“Oh, Lord. Here, watch this.” Alice started swimming properly around Clare. “Just copy me.”

Clare tried and slowly made her way to shore in an unsightly fashion. Alice grew impatient and eventually just hauled Clare in.

“You bastards! I’ll kill you!” Alice shouted as Clare tried to catch her breath. They were still waving as the ferry went around a bend.

Clare stood and stumbled toward them. “No,” she coughed. “Don’t go. Don’t go!” Her stumbling became a walk, which became a run. “Don’t leave me!”

A flash! Clare could see the silhouette of a man walking into the sunset. She started to chase after him but strong hands held her in place. The man did not turn back. And then Clare was back in reality. She stopped and looked around. “That again?” she said to herself.

Alice caught up with their packs. “Hey, I’m not carrying your shit around like some pack mule.” She shoved Clare’s pack into her arms.

“Sorry.” Clare sighed. “Now what do we do?”

Alice tossed her hands in the air. “I guess we’re walking.”

“Should we dry off first?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

The women emptied their packs on the shore and spread the equipment out in the sun. They did an inventory check while they were at it. Each had a knife, clothes, bed rolls, canned food, full canteens, rope, and a modest wad of cash.

“Wish we had more food in here,” Clare complained.

“They must have taken out the good stuff when we weren’t looking. Damn Alfred to hell.”

The two sulked and hated the Protectors a while longer until everything had thoroughly dried. They packed up and started following the river southward. A little walking did them some good, and their moods steadily lightened as much as they could in their situation.

“How long will this take?” Clare asked.

“Days. No telling how many.”

“This isn’t good. I’m not in good shape for this. I mean, I can handle short bursts of energy, but aside from that...”

“Then I guess we’re in the same sinking boat. I’m no athlete either.”

They spotted a dirt road curving off into the forest. It was nice and cool in there. Only bits of sunlight pierced the thick foliage above.

“There aren’t any animals sneaking around us, are there?” Clare asked.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“I wish I had instincts like the others.”

“That would be a godsend. I’d love to know if we were being stalked.”

The woods darkened as the women progressed. Soon the sunlight was unable to reach them. Paranoia set in. The slightest sounds made them grow ever more nervous. They walked closer together.

“How much farther in do we have to go?” Clare asked.

“Don’t know. But it’s not like there was any good way for us to go along the river. I’m sure this trail will work out.”

“Yeah. Hey, do you mind if we take a quick break?”

“Sure. It’s probably lunchtime anyway. Maybe. I can’t see the sun well.”

They set their packs down and worked together to get a fire going. Beans were on the menu.

“These take some getting used to,” Alice said. “Alfred used to set me up with some fresh meat but that devil’s not here.”

“I want steak again. Now that’s good stuff.”

“Wait until you get bacon in your mouth. I’d kick a baby for a nibble of that.”

“I like the sound of that,” a new voice said.

An owl dropped from above and perched on the ground by the fire. In one of its talons was a dead rabbit. The owl was dripping wet. Clare and Alice did not more. The owl took notice of their anxiety.

“Calm yourselves, humans. I mean no harm.” It stretched it wings and fluttered them over the fire. “That is a nice blaze.”

Alice gulped a spoonful of beans down. “Can we help you?”

“You already have.” It shook itself and sprayed the women with water.

“How’d you get so wet?” Clare asked, wiping her face.

“Much to my shame, my prey slipped from my talons and into the river. As you can see I retrieved it, but at a price. Will you let me stay and dry off?”

The women nodded.

“Thank you. It is customary for kindness to be repaid with kindness. Ask for a reasonable favor, and I will do my best to help.” The owl ripped off one of the rabbit’s legs and swallowed it whole.

“We need to get to New Orleans,” Alice replied. “Do you know a good route?”

“You have a long road ahead of you. I will point you to the nearest Refuge. You can replace a human route from there.” The owl ripped off another leg and used it to draw in the dirt. “I believe this map with suffice. And look out for the Crusaders. They are a shifty lot.” The owl ate the leg.

“Crusaders? Do I want to know?” Clare asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s just see what the owl has for us here.”

The women looked at the map. It was legible and straightforward enough. There was a road deeper in the forest that they had to follow. When the owl dried and departed, and their lunch was eaten, they smothered the fire and set out.

Alice fared well enough while Clare still needed her frequent breaks. But it all worked out in the end. The women reached the highway, or remains of one, that led southward. Not too many trees popped up through roads during the Growth, but the ones that did provided adequate shade during what could have been a sunburn-inducing journey.

Clare took out her obsidian dagger and fiddled with it in her hands.

Alice noticed. “Clare? You ok?”

“I killed someone with this.”

“Oh?” Alice moved closer and looked at the dagger.

“This was Ryker’s, a slaver. He wanted to cut my finger off with it.”

“You seem to be intact.”

“A bit of luck. Some wolves took his attention. He hated them but they sure loved harassing him.”

“How did it feel… to kill someone?”

“I think I’d have a hang-up if it was anyone else, but with Ryker it was easy. He had beaten and abused me. He treated me and the other slaves like a thing and never like a person.” Clare grinned. “It was easy. Throats are soft.”

Seeing that grin made the hairs on the back of Alice’s neck rise, so she looked back at the bending road ahead. She spotted something. “Hey, look. I think it’s a Refuge.”

Clare looked. The signs were all there: big wall, big gate, and guard towers with archers. The door read “REFUGE 52”.

No one questioned the women when they approached. The gate opened just enough for the two of them and they wandered in. They were eyed, but otherwise completely ignored. The Refuge was just a Refuge. Clare observed few differences from her time in Refuge 49. The shoddy buildings differed but the trashy roads and the ratty residents remained the same.

“We could replace food,” Alice suggested. “Those bastards left us with cash.”

“I won’t complain.”

The women found a restaurant and procured hearty plates of steak. They dug in with ruthless abandon, spilling juice on the table and themselves. Yet other patrons did not seem to care.

Afterwards the women did not want to do anything. They found crates on the sidewalk and people-watched. They occasionally pointed out remarkable individuals worthy of mockery. One particular procession grabbed Clare’s full attention. There was a straight line of ten boys and girls in their teenage years, all wearing rags, with six large men around them, three on either side. The men were fully armed with knives, bows and arrows, and swords. One man, lean but tallest, led the procession, only armed with a whip.

“Slaves,” Alice said aloud. “Poor things.” Clare got off her crate and started following them from a reasonable distance. Alice raised her hands in confusion. “Um. Where ya goin’?”

Clare did not answer. Alice got up and followed. The procession moved through the Refuge for a short time before going into a warehouse and locking the door behind them.

“What’s going on?” Alice asked.

“I’m going to free those slaves.”

“Is that right?”

Clare moved around the side of the warehouse and found its side door. She tried the handle but it was also locked. Alice sighed and moved her aside.

“I don’t know why I’m helping you.” She took out her knife, made a few motions with it against the lock, and the door clicked open. “I’ll follow you in but this is dangerous, Clare. Are you sure you want this? Those guys are huge.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Clare proceeded inside. It was dark within the warehouse. Dust and mold climbing up the glass with the addition of boards covering most of the windows allowed minimal light through.

“I see a light over there.” Alice pointed and Clare led the way toward it. Their route took them around crate after crate. As they neared, the initial light grew stronger and other lights appeared. When voices became audible, Alice and Clare kept low and stuck to the shadows. They peeked from behind a tall crate and saw the group. The slaves were chained together and sitting side by side against a wall as the slavers ate and B.S.ed. around a table of food.

“What’s the plan?” Alice whispered. “There are seven of them and two of us.”

“I know just what to do.” Clare unsheathed her knife. “It’s okay to back out. This is my deal.”

Alice readied her own knife and looked into Clare’s eyes.

Clare nodded back. “Follow my lead.”

Clare led them further into the darkness of the warehouse and hit one of the crates. The group halted their discussion and turned in that direction. They talked it over, and two of them grabbed lanterns.

“Stay in the shadows until the very last second, then aim for the throat. It’s hard to fight when you’re bleeding out.”

“You’re scaring me, Clare.”

“Hide there and when I wave my hand, tap on the side of that crate.”

The women took their positions behind boxes on either side of an aisle and waited for their prey to pass by. The two slavers took their time, lazily ignoring the darkest areas. They split up and the first slaver neared.

He moved between them. Clare waved, and Alice tapped on the wood just loud enough for this one man to hear. Just as he looked down and spotted Alice, Clare’s knife entered his throat from behind. He gurgled and fell. Alice caught his lantern before it smashed on the ground.

Clare took it from her. “Good. Now put on his coat and follow me.”

Alice did not question the command. Once dressed, Clare led her close to the other poacher. They kept the lantern low to the ground to keep Alice’s face shrouded.

“I don’t see anything,” the other said when the women neared. He glanced over at Alice, but the shadows kept her identify a mystery. The slaver was none the wiser, which was the cue. Clare snatched Alice’s lantern and tossed it across the man’s path. It shattered on the ground and the oil within ignited. “What the hell are you doing!?” he shouted as he tried to extinguish the spreading flames. While he was distracted, Clare cut his throat, then pushed him into the flames.

Alice took the second slaver’s lantern and dumped its oil all over the nearest wooden crates. The fire spread quickly.

“Good idea, Alice.”

“That remains to be seen.”

The women disappeared again as the others spotted the rising flames. The five remaining slavers ran right past them and struggled against the fire. The women watched them and waited in the darkness. When one of the poachers backed up far enough behind the others, Clare struck with another knife to the throat. Alice followed the same strategy. Two brutes and the leader remained but Clare was spotted before she could he could properly disappear.

“Hey!” A brute shouted. He abandoned the fire and ran at Clare, sword now drawn. He swung but Clare ducked under the blow. Alice came up from behind and ended him. The last two saw the fight and attacked.

“Run!” Alice yelled. Clare complied and the women scurried among the crates. They ended up becoming separated, and the pursuers split as well, with the leader chasing Clare and the other after Alice.

They were fast. The distance between Clare and the leader was rapidly decreasing. Finally, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Clare lashed out as she spun, swinging her dagger at the leader’s throat. It missed by a mere millimeter. He got a grip on Clare’s arms and slammed her against a crate.

“Who sent you?” he yelled, close to Clare’s face.

Clare answered with a headbutt to the man’s nose. He released her to grab and nurse the injury as Clare made another attempt at his throat.

“Too slow, little girl.” He caught Clare’s wrist with one hand and held it tight as Clare struggled to free her arm. The leader punched Clare across the face and she hit the ground hard. At the moment of impact, Clare felt like it was Ryker who had struck her.

“You have a thing for throats, don’t you?” the leader mocked. He knelt down and put both hands around her neck. “This is how you’ll die then.”

His grip tightened. Tighter and tighter. Clare dropped her dagger to try to pry the man’s hands off. No more air could flow in and out. Clare’s vision began to tunnel. Darker and darker.

Is this it?

Clare changed strategies. She stopped trying to pry the leader’s hands away and reached for her dagger instead. She found it and in one fast motion slid the blade up the leader’s arm. He screamed as blood spilled out, and he released Clare. She gasped for air as the leader slung off his whip and tied it around his arm as a tourniquet.

But, Clare was not done. Though she had yet to recover, Clare knew she had to act fast. She pounced forward like a cat, low to the ground, and stabbed the man’s leg again and again and again. His leg gave out and he fell onto Clare at the worst angle. Clare was pinned, facedown, unable to attack.

“You bitch!”

The leader ignored his injures and flipped around to keep Clare pinned down with her torso between his knees. He grabbed Clare’s wrist again and pried the dagger from her hand. With it in his grip, he raised his hand for the killing blow, but Clare’s struggle caused his knee to slip on his own blood, and he had to put his hands on either side of Clare’s head to steady himself. Clare grabbed one hand and pulled it forward, causing it to slip in more blood. The leader fell forward with his head just behind Clare’s. Clare reached both hands back and shoved her thumbs into the leader’s eyes. He screamed and rolled off Clare with his hands on his face.

Clare crawled and grabbed the knife with both hands. She struggled to move over the bloody ground toward the leader. He was still screaming in agony and clutching his face, so Clare’s location remained a mystery to him, even though she was on her hands and knees by his side. She raised the dagger against her opponent and aimed for the chest. The knife struck with the last ounce of energy Clare could spare, and it pierced his dark heart. He blindly flailed his arms at Clare and managed to knock her off but the damage was done. His last moments were spent on trying to pull the dagger from his chest, but he failed and went limp.

Though she was beaten and bruised, Clare knew that this was no time to rest. She wrenched her dagger out of the leader’s chest and somehow got to her feet. As she rose, she spotted a key on the man’s belt, so she snatched it up. She was still winded but started to move again on trembling legs. There was no way to spot her so, Clare closed her eyes and listened for Alice.

The crackling of the fire was distracting but Clare detected a distant struggle. Her eyes snapped open and she hobbled through the crates, finally emerging where the slaves had been tied. All ten slaves, still tied together were beating on Alice’s opponent as Alice was catching her breath in a chair, lip bleeding.

“There you are!” Alice called before returning to panting. “You look like shit.”

Clare fell onto the chair beside Alice’s and slapped the key on the table. “Air,” she huffed.

Alice faced the slaves. “Hey!” she called. They stopped beating on the slaver, who was long dead, and looked at her. She threw the key between them and they freed themselves. But instead of simply running off as Clare thought they would, they surrounded the women and helped them outside through the side door to freedom.

“You’re smiling,” Alice said to Clare.

“I can’t help it. That was exhilarating.”

“Well, stop. It’s creeping me out.”

The women were safe in a pub down the street. Some of the slaves had looted the slavers’ belongings before fleeing and the group would be well off and able to return to their homes from which they had been kidnapped. They had given their many thanks and took their leave.

Neither young woman wanted to do anything for the rest of the day. They each ordered a celebratory beer, rested, and then rested more that evening at a hotel/brothel. There were no regular hotels.

The next morning was awful. They were sore and wanted nothing to do with the world. They slept in all morning until their growling stomachs forced them to pack their things and be on their way. After a hearty lunch and shopping for food, they made for the gate, asked a guard which direction south was, and resumed their journey.

“People suck,” Clare declared during their first break. They were on the side of the highway under some shady trees.

“That, they do,” Alice agreed. “I feel good though! We did a good thing yesterday.”

“I was a slave most of my life. I couldn’t just leave them. I’m sorry I dragged you into that.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad about that.” She sighed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t stepped up. They were just slaves. Just slaves.” Alice looked down.

“Thank you,” Clare said.

“No, thank you.”

A deep, slow voice spoke to them. “Freeing slaves, eh?” it said. “That is quite honorable.”

The women looked all around, but the speaker was nowhere to be found. But then one of the shorter, thinner trees shook and transformed. The bark and branches shifted to reveal a large humanoid creature. The face was a tree knot and the mouth and eyes moved and showed emotion as any human face would.

“Hard to spot, aren’t we?” it said. The creature read the women’ faces. “I see you are shocked. Rest easy, little humans, and please forgive my eavesdropping but I simply could not ignore such an act of altruism. I have an offer. Would you like to meet some like-minded individuals?”

Clare and Alice looked at each other, shrugged, then turned back to the dryad. “Sure.”

“Let me take you to the Crusaders. You may replace conversation with them very informational.”

“One second,” Alice said. She and Clare huddled. “The owl warned us about those Crusaders. What should we do?”

“I’m not against it, but aren’t the others waiting for us?”

“You mean the people who threw us off a boat?’”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

“We’ll go with you,” Alice announced.

“Then follow me.”

They started moving. “Is everything insane out here?” Clare asked Alice.

“Probably.”

Keeping up with the dryad proved challenging but Clare pushed herself to keep up with the giant’s long strides. They followed the main road for a while before the dryad veered off into the dark forest. The walk was not too difficult, for a there was already a small trail and anything that could have impeded them was smashed by the dryad. The tiring trip eventually led to yet another road, and that road to a sizeable town.

Much like a Refuge, most of the buildings had trees sprouting up through them, and the road was as cracked and crumbled as ever. However, there were no walls and no guards, and the human citizens shared the streets with more dryads and a wide variety of local animals.

Clare noticed that a vast majority of the people were wild-looking. If they weren’t barefoot, they had scrappy sandals. Hair was shaggy and unkempt. All clothes were definitely handmade from plants. Many had primitive weapons at their waists. Clare and Alice were the odd ones out.

The dryad led the two to a courthouse in the center of town and stopped on the steps outside. “As you can see, I am too tall to enter. Go inside, and replace the answers that you seek. You will replace the Crusaders informational indeed.”

“Thanks for guiding us,” Clare said, quite short of breath.

“Take care of yourself,” Alice added.

“You too, little humans.”

The women nodded and went inside.