Bitter Pills.

I.

The sloth trudged across the turquoise sands of the wasteland. The denizens who once called this home, referred to it as the False Sea. Massive coral bodies and discarded machinery extended across the lands well beyond the horizon. It's obsidian armor glistened under the cruel red sun and with each step it burrowed into the sand. The sloth was a colossal machine formed into the shape of a rhomboid with four clubbed appendages it used to navigate. It stood at a tremendous height close to fifty feet tall with a length and width double that. Dragging behind the machine was a long tail that left a deep path behind it.

Littered across the terrain were the vacant husks of it is fallen brethren, but amidst this adversity the sloth pressed on diligently. The sound of gnashing gears could be heard from its chest. As it moved, it devoured anything it passed. Its mechanical jaws sifting for sustenance to fuel its demanding body. The sloth came to a sudden stop. A light flashed across the cloudless sky like a missile in the firmament, as the vessel barreled closer. The sloth stood carelessly digging deeper into the sand beneath. The vessel broke into the atmosphere with an earthshattering boom. Within moments it made impact with the ground forcing the sand into the air, each grain glistening like the crest of a wave. The vessel plummeted down a dune toward the sloth.

The sloth positioned itself in the direction of the ship. The vessel was spherical in nature with pearlescent paint accented with intersecting golden decals that broke up the monotony of its white body. The sphere slowed as a small hatch burst open, releasing the pilot from the back. The pilot lay flat on the sand as her ship flew into the sloth’s jaws. She sat up as she watched her vessel be crushed by the rotating gears. Sparks emanated from the sphere followed by a burst of smoke as its fuel cell was obliterated. The sloth came to a screeching halt. Its stubby legs began to shake. Its jaws grinded hard in opposition against the sphere until the sloth collapsed onto its belly.

A loud siren escaped the sloth as a hatch opened topside. The pilot reached for her side arm, but the white leather holster was empty. A small head plopped out from the hatch. The head was wrapped in a mint green hazmat suit with an opaque golden visor hiding his face.

“What have you done to my Momma?” exclaimed the boy.

The pilot looked at the sloth as it's stubby legs wiggled beside her.

“Your mother?” asked the pilot.

“Yes! My mother!” shouted the boy as he emerged from the sloth high above.

The boy wore a full body hazmat suit that was much too large for him. He appeared to be a child no older than ten. He bent down inspecting the rising smoke. He pulled visor against his face with both hands. The pilot looked at a small watch on her wrist as it chirped three times. A small emoticon with an uneasy look blinked on the screen alternating rapidly between the icon of a crescent moon. She turned her visor toward the horizon as the sun began its descent.

“Lend me a hand down here will ya?” she asked. “Suns getting pretty low, and I would hate to be out here when the fish come swimming.”

The boy folded his arms.

“Absolutely not, that would be a violation of rule number one.”

The pilot scoffed. She plucked the helmet from her head, releasing a mess of curly blonde locks. She unzipped the top portion of her jumpsuit revealing a small silver locket. She pulled her hair behind her ears. The boy wiped his visor as he peered toward the locket. It shined radiantly against the pilot’s tanned skin.

“I’m not some marauder for god’s sake. I am from the capital!” shouted the pilot watching the last rays of sunlight disappear from her peripherals. “The king has done it! We have eradicated all the fish to the far east and I have come to save anyone I can! Now let me in so I can tell you all about it!”

The boy listened as he heard loud shrieking off in the distance. One by one the stars began to vanish.

“You’ll have to help me fix Momma in the morning!” he said watching the horizon.

The pilot grinned from ear to ear nodding her head.

II.

The pilot followed the boy down a long slide which led to the sloth’s interior. She plopped down onto a thick tangerine shag carpet. Her blue eyes widened as she scanned her surroundings. The room was dimly lit by an old furnace. Two velvet cushioned chairs sat beside the furnace as a quaint record player droned quietly in the background. A few yards away she could see another room filled with luscious green vegetation. Tears welled up in her eyes as she sat in awe of this seemingly sacred space.

“This is incredible, do you live here all alone?” asked the pilot as she ran her fingers through the carpet’s fibers.

“It’s just me and my dad.”

Along the walls of the common room were two thin screens which displayed moving streams of data relating to the sloth and its operation. A small list of rules was pinned to the side of the screens. The pilot placed her finger on rule number one. “No outsiders, ever!”.

The pilot smiled as she turned toward the boy. He stood a few feet behind her with his hands holding a small baton.

“Do you mind if I look around?” she asked stepping towards the garden.

The boy did not object. He followed the pilot closely as she stepped into the garden. The pilot stuck her nose into a bushel of budding flowers.

“I haven’t ever seen this much green outside the capital.”

“Momma grew it all before she went inside.”

“Inside where?” asked the pilot.

“Inside,” he said touching the wall.

The pilot inched toward the boy. He lifted his baton, stepping back quickly.

“Inside the sloth?”

The boy fidgeted with his glove. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Awhile back the desert dried up. Dad was worried. He said the fish weren’t dropping like they used to when they first invaded. He thinks they were adapting the atmosphere or something. We thought we would freeze without fuel,” said the boy.

In the silence the faint sound of shrieking could be heard outside with the occasionally impact against the sloth’s exterior.

“My Momma left the next morning, and she never came back. Dad told me she went into the machine. But we survived because of her.”

The pilot was speechless. She bent down revealing the small locket around her neck. She opened it towards the boy. He stood apprehensive loosing his grip on his baton as she placed her arm on his shoulder.

“That must have been hard. You and your dad were lucky to have her.”

“Are... We are lucky to have her.” he said tightening his grip on the baton.

III.

The boy shook his head and straightened his posture.

“I thought you were here to save us; all you have done is ask questions!” said the boy through his fogged visor. “Start talking.”

The pilot lifted her hand to the boy. She removed the locket from her neck and flattened it in her palm. The locket held within its frame a series of coordinates on one side with the picture of a handsome armor-clad man in the other.

“I come from far away to the east. After the fish invaded, we went underground. While the surrounding settlements fell, we hid and bided our time.” Said the pilot pointing to the photo in the locket.

“This is William Dufresne,” said the pilot, her face lighting up as she continued. “He was a nobody before the fall. But he stepped up and got his hands dirty. We started small, but a group of pharmacists within our ranks came up with a remedy.”

The pilot removed a small capsule from her pocket. She opened her hand revealing a black pill capsule.

“This little baby. Taken three times a day…”

The boy hit his baton against the wall silencing the pilot.

“You’re lying.” Said the boy walking back into the den. "There is nothing to the east!"

The pilot followed him.

“You gotta listen to me, it does something to us. The fish cannot stand it. Without a food source they dried up in a couple months.”

“Father warned me about letting liars like you inside. He said they would tell us anything to get away from the fish.”

The pilot turned her attention to the garden. Hidden in the back was a spiral staircase leading to a hatch.

“Where is your father anyway?” asked the pilot with an eye brow raised.

The boy stood beside her staring at the locket.

“He is busy navigating. He is not to be disturbed.”

The pilot looked at the boy for a moment. She closed the locket with a smirk.

“Okay, okay. You are the man of the house. We can discuss it again in the morning.”

The boy nodded.

“After we fix Momma.”

“After we fix Momma.” Said the pilot.

The boy pointed to the chairs beside the furnace. The pilot sat down in the chair as the boy stoked the fire. He handed her a blanket from atop an ornate box beside the furnace. They exchanged a few words as the record played them to sleep.

IV.

The pilot opened her eyes to see the boy sleeping in the chair beside her. She stood up slowly tip toeing towards the staircase. It was dark in the cabin, but she made her way from memory. She rounded the staircase to the hatch keeping her eyes on the sleeping boy. She pressed the hatch open slowly. Her nostrils were greeted with a putrid smell as she stood upright inside the cockpit. A green light flickered on and off and within the captain's chair sat the boy’s father. The chair rocked side-to-side, and she could see the man wearing a large helmet with a series of colored chords attached to a center console. She extended her hand toward the man.

“Excuse me sir…” she whispered.

As she touched the hazmat suit, his torso slumped forward against the center console. The pilot tilted him back. Upon further inspection she saw the man’s decaying face behind the visor. He had been slashed deep across his belly and the suit was stained with dried blood.

“I told you he was not to be disturbed.” Said the boy.

The pilot turned around to see the boy standing atop the hatch. He had his baton pointed toward her. This time, the end of the baton was glowing red and sparking at the tip.

“What the hell?” asked the pilot as she lifted her hands above her head.

V.

The red sun peaked over the horizon. The boy wiped his hands against his thighs beside the sloth’s gaping maw. Its gears spun with intensity as it regained its footing once more. The boy slid down into the den. This time room was well lit. The boy unzipped his mask as he sat aside the furnace, he wiped his thick brown bangs from his face as he removed the ornate box from beneath the furnace. The record player hummed a tranquil melody throughout the den.

“Good morning Momma, did you enjoy your breakfast?” he asked as he placed the box on his lap.

The music continued as the boy opened the box ever so gently. Inside the box was a handful of silver lockets tangled amongst one another. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the newest addition before tossing it in along with all the rest.