Reaper of the Barren

The Thief was running for his life across the hot sand. The cliff faces of the gorge offered some shade but it was always hot. I knew he wasn’t going to make it far. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in about three weeks, plus the wound I gave him slowed him down drastically. It was nothing personal. It's just the way it is out here in The Barrens.

The malnourished man fell, hitting the ground with a pained groan. I walked up to inspect the broken man and as I did so, I could hear his terrified breathing. He was taking shallow sharp breaths. But there was another reason his breathing was so rapid. Fear. Countless times I have seen it. All of the Hunted have it from the moment they are born. They knew no other life. They only knew the fear that consumes them.

That same fear is what drove this man to steal from me. The fear of dying of starvation. Or perhaps the fear of not being able to provide for his loved ones. Did he even have a family? I don’t know, I didn’t ask.

“You took something from me.” I said menacingly.

“I-I-I’m sorry. I already traded it. It’s gone.” He stammered. “I was just trying to-.”

“Who did you trade with? I want a name.” I said.

The man was shaking violently. I didn’t have much time before he died. I probably didn’t need to push him as hard as I did through the gorge. He was clutching a locket in his hands and it was shaking uncontrollably.

“He was a travelling merchant, I didn’t get his name. He mentioned something about heading into Barren Central.”

“No one goes into Barren Central.” I barked. “There is nothing left there. Tell me where he went!” I yelled.

The man had stopped shaking. His rapid breath had eased and the life from his eyes had drifted away along with his fear. He was gone.

I searched his pockets to see if there was anything of use on him. Nothing. Except for the locket that was still clutched in his hand.

As I stood up I remembered the old saying ‘The weak are meat, and the strong do eat.’ Yet here I was with an empty stomach and nothing to show for all my strength. I noticed the vultures up on the cliff face watching us and thought to myself ‘Maybe the old birds of prey have it right. They do say that patience is a virtue.’

I turned and walked back the way I came, stowing the locket in my pocket as I did so.

It was a short ride back to camp. The bike I rode was built using spare parts from old vehicles that had been around before The Fall.

A few of the other Hunters were gathered around a makeshift pen, watching some of the mutant animals fight. As brutal as it was, it wasn’t ever that appealing to me. That was one thing Hunters were known for. Their sheer brutality.

I made my way to my shelter and pushed aside the fabric that was acting as a door and ducked into my makeshift tent. In the shelter there was a flat mattress, a set of shelves which held some old texts, a small cracked mirror and a metal case containing my knives. There were four knives to choose from each with different characteristics. I did have five, but that idiot I hunted through the gorge pawned it off to some travelling merchant. I was amazed that he even managed to enter our Hunter camp.

I know obsessing over material goods is cause for misery, but this knife had significant sentimental value to me.

It was given to me by my father. It was the knife I used to claim my first kill as a hunter. I felt as though a dear friend had been taken from me.

I knelt down in front of my small mirror and removed my hair tie. My long dark hair brushed against the top of my back and the cool air kissed the left side of my head where I had shaved it the night before. Life had not been kind to me, but there was still a slight innocence in my face, aside from the scar across my eye from a mutant Jack Rat. I felt that the other hunters in the camp judged me harder than others. Many of them felt that I hadn’t earned the title of ‘Reaper’. To be honest I despised the title anyway. From the old mythologies the ‘Grim Reaper’ was tasked with the responsibility to guide those who had died into the afterlife. My task was nothing like that. I was a huntress. We killed to survive.

I put my hands in my pocket and felt something cold and hard. It was the locket I scavenged from the thief. I took it out and looked at it. It seemed to be vibrating slightly. I tried to open it with my fingers but it was sealed shut. I grabbed one of my knives from the case and tried to pry it open. The knife was thrown across the tent with some invisible force and embedded itself into the wall of the shelter.

I counted myself lucky that it wasn’t my skull. I decided to give up on opening the locket and instead pulled the chain around my neck and latched it securely.

All of a sudden I had an enormous rush of energy and it felt as if time had come to a complete stand still. I could hear the flapping of wings from the birds overhead. I could smell the sweat from the hunters out in the camp. I reached for the knife that was stuck in the wall and pulled it out with ease. I felt incredible, almost like I could do anything. But as soon as I started to realise what was happening to me everything went black.

I awoke to find myself on my mattress. My hearing had returned to normal and all I could smell was myself and how badly I needed to cleanse. The sun had now risen on a new day and I realised someone was watching me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Most people call me Traveller but you can call me Trav for short.” He replied. “And you are the famous Reaper.”

“I hate that title.” I said with ferocity.

“Yes I can see that. What would you prefer me to call you?” he asked.

I had never seen someone with his honey-like complexion. There were stories about the Wandering Wisemen but I never believed them to be true.

“I prefer people minding their own business.” I answered.

“Well it seems that the locket around your neck IS my business, Sophie.” Said the man.

I froze. No one had called me Sophie since before my father died and this camp of Hunters and Huntresses would have no knowledge of my real identity, so how could this person know who I was?

“Yes I know many things about you.” He continued. “Like how your Mother abandoned you as a child, and how your Father dragged you across the Barrens and then died fighting that mutant Jack Rat, which is how you got that scar. I also know you are obsessed with the 21st century. Which is why I have been looking for you. I need all the information I can obtain about The Blast”

I couldn’t say anything. I was stunned.

“Yes I have been waiting for this moment for many years, Sophie.”

For some reason the words of the Traveller made me think of the stories of The Fall.

Towards the end of the 21st century, governments of the world had commissioned the work of highly experimental energy sources which would be shared among all people of the earth. There were some who didn’t agree with this New World plan and were scared they would lose their economic status. As the story goes the scientists working on the energy project were infiltrated by a group known as the Iron Zealots. During a highly dangerous experiment the Iron Zealots attempted to seize control of the energy source, weaponise it, and implant the energy into combat ready soldiers. The original scientists were killed by the Iron Zealots and without the scientists the energy source had become unstable. With no way of containing the energy, it grew out of the Iron Zealot’s control and when the situation became critical, a monumental explosion occurred and annihilated nearly all life on earth. That happened over three hundred years ago. Now there was no vegetation, barely any livestock or even wild animals for that matter. Water sources had evaporated from the blast. Life on this earth was a struggle, from when we were born until we died.

Trav pulled out a jeweled knife from his bag. It was my jeweled knife that the thief had stolen. And then it dawned on me.

“You’re the travelling merchant. The thief sold my knife to you.” I said

“Not quite.” Replied Trav. “I gave the locket to the thief and said if he came back to me with the Reaper’s most treasured possession then he can keep the locket. So I just sat back with the vultures on the cliff and waited patiently.”

“How did the thief know where to find me?” I asked.

“The locket unlocks the human spirit.” Said the traveller. “It enhances the senses, intuition, instinct and the natural abilities that one already possesses. The thief had excellent skills of stealth, so the power within the locket enhanced those skills and he found you easily. I merely followed at a safe distance hoping he would lead me to you.”

“And why would you want to meet me?” I asked.

“Because I need the skills of the Reaper.” He replied. “Your reputation precedes you. Many people have heard of the Reaper. Most of them think you are a myth. A scary story to make children behave. But I knew the truth. It's a gift of the Wandering Wisemen to know such things.”

“And why should I help you? You think knowing some facts about my past is going to make me trust you?” I said. “A wandering Wiseman? I have heard the stories about you. About your lust for power and will do anything to keep it.”

“The title of Wandering Wisemen has been sullied.” He said sadly.

“So has the term Reaper.” I replied.

We were locked staring at each other. My eyes began to water.

“The camp needs my help.” I said, breaking the silence. “Most nights we defend ourselves against the creatures of the Fall. You have no idea what it’s like to try and survive out here. Then you come here and expect me to abandon these people? They accepted me as one of their own and they have always been there for me.”

The anger had built up inside me and I felt a searing pain in my chest. The pain brought me to my knees. Blue electricity looked as if it was pulsating through my body just under the surface of my skin.

“What is happening to me?” I asked through the pain.

“When you claimed the locket from the thief you became its host, and now it’s bound to you. But it’s running out of power and when it does it will claim your life. The only way to recharge it, is to go to the source of its power.”

His words made me realise.

“The locket contains a piece of the Fall energy inside of it, doesn’t it? So you are going to The Blast point. That’s a suicide mission.”

“Not if you are with me, Sophie.”

I had no choice. The locket was going to run out of energy and it was going to take me with it. We were going to Barren Central.