Mongrels of Krimea

The sky blazes green atop Krimea, branding the end of another sleepless night. I ponder what I overheard from Zasha weeks ago, of “a time when the heavens glowed blue, and the great valleys held creatures that flew through vast expanses of water.” I have trouble imagining that, though. Green and black paint the landscape of our lives, day in and out.

Trudging the final steps home, I stand reaching up for the door latch. My stomach wretches with bile, and I prepare for rest after a long night's hunt. I am weak, cramps traversing my lower body, but I'm happy.

I run my fingers over the tear in the seat of my pants along the base of my tail. With luck, next week I'll be brandishing my first set of Bridgers. Aching aside, I can't help trembling with excitement. I had captured nearly a child's worth of water under the neon clouds.

"Rikter?" Zasha calls from her slumber, "What have you got for us this morning, Rikter? Has Rikter been a good boy? Is Mika going to be full today?"

Zasha emerges from the shanty’s other room, the eerie greens of night creeping in through holes in walls and blurring into pallid darkness. She holds Mika, whose skin is darker than Zasha’s, less hairy than mine. Mika is too tired for more than a yawn.

"Yes." I reply, "Full."

Zasha smiles, and I feel ecstatic. I roll the bulk of my pack onto the floor, standing proud showing my prizes for them. Zasha places Mika in his chair.

"Oh my, Rikter! What an outstanding hunt!" Zasha's eyes flash as she surveys the Mag-Net bulging with pacified water, still wriggling with what little fight it has left.

"And what's this? New trinkets for us?" Zasha walks closer, setting a candle nearby.

"This one must be ancient. Look at the rust on it!" She picks up the ovular metal curio, its surface changing as it moves.

"Rikter, this is something very rare. We'll be able to trade this for a week's worth of rations for Mika." I can't believe it, I'm overwhelmed.

"I've got a special treat for you Rikter – be quick!" I salivate as Zasha reaches in her pocket throwing a brown ration. I leap onto it, famished. I feel it work down to my gut, the savory smell lingering.

"Rikter, I want you to see something special." Zasha approaches me, placing her hand on my shoulder and patting my head.

"The trinket you found is a mirror. This is what you look like, Rikter." She holds the gleaming metal in front of me, wiping away corroded grime.

"Mirrors show us who – or what - we are." I focus all I can muster on her words, looking in awe at the eyes staring back at me. They are vibrant blue reflecting candle light, just like the color Zasha taught me in her books. There is a big beard all over my face, abounding with duller shades.

"I see." I say as I watch my lips move, transfixed. Zasha pulls the mirror away, gazing into it.

"Mirrors are relics from a world we lost, Rikter. A world that was taken from us by the ones of the sky. They forged you mongrels, Rikter. From our populace. They made you less than human. More than beast."

Zasha's words frighten me, and I shift down to my belly.

"They cursed the very skies we sleep under and the oceans we conquered so long ago." She pours deeper into the mirror.

"Regardless, you mongrels shouldn't concern yourselves with the frivolities of the past." She places the mirror on the high shelf.

"The shades of time have grown cold. Heaven hath forbade us all, now. Hell hath remained, Rikter. With all its abominations. Remember that."

I couldn't understand some of what she said. I recognized her tone, however, and the scent of anger and sadness inside her. Frivolities and oceans. What did these mean? Suddenly she rises to her full height, towering above me.

"Here Rikter - fear not! I think the other trinket you've found is a suitable reward for such fine hunting." She reaches down picking up the other prize. I stand stretching out as she places the thick locket necklace in my hand, its latch broken.

"This is the shape of a heart, Rikter. Only it isn't its real shape." She said, clasping my fingers around it.

"Happy." I cough out, fatigue and elation roiling inside me.

"Perhaps soon we will go to Kreeg and fetch you some Bridgers." Zasha says, putting on her gloves and lifting the Mag-Net up to the counter, preparing it for purification.

"You may go to bed, Rikter." This is a dream come true.

I let myself out, pushing aside the tattered sheet adorning my hut adjacent the shanty. I lift the rock in the corner plugging the hole I dug for my favorite things. Bringing the locket necklace to my face, I inhale, imprinting its scent. I place it carefully between my handprint canvas and the shard of glass I had packed with dirt. My body gives to exhaustion as I fade to Mika gurgling, consuming his breakfast.

The air raid sirens jar me awake, as they so often do. They herald a new night, and the clouds forming in the skies are already reflecting the green haze ebbing from the ration nodes appearing throughout the Krimean Peninsula and Crater Valley north of our shanty town. This gives me around an hour before the rain.

I take my necklace with me for good luck, tucking it into the safe pocket in my pants. I grab the gray ration and two vials of purified water Zasha left outside my hut.

Passing Kreeg's shop awning, I place a vial with the letter “Z” etched into it, taking one of the batteries from the pile left out for my Mag-Net. I can't help peeking over the counter at the assortment of Bridgers stacked close to his door, tail covers stitched into their backs.

Leaving the outskirts of town, a man was throwing the emaciated corpse of a mongrel into the Ravine of Requiems. I shudder to think of who it might be, forcing myself to instead study the rain clouds. If I am lucky, I might find a ration node away from the rainfall before the teams of men loot it, or another mongrel finds it.

I stumble down the valley's edge, my eyes on the ground, careful of debris. Shells are strewn throughout the rim. Walking will become easier as I reach the bottom sands. I find a good vantage point shimmying between petrified coral, deciding to eat my gray ration for the night. It's acrid and tastes terrible, but it's familiar. I see the rain falling on the horizon, knowing it will amass soon. I'll stay away from there, searching for water that hasn't found its counterparts from the nights before.

A feral yelp startles me, from afar. I scan finding another mongrel running full speed on all fours toward the distant rim. I can barely make out the thin aqueous serpent behind it, lashing at its heels.

My insides lurch, knowing I shouldn't help it. Mongrels are forbidden from associating at night, our humans wary of potential teamwork leading to a pooling of resources.

Nevertheless, I drop my pack, running for the mongrel scrambling as best it could over the dunes. If someone sees us, we'll both be put down.

"I help!" I yell, closing the gap.

The mongrel turns to look for me, panting. I can smell its fear as I draw close, ready to throw my Pulser. A pitiful screech sounds.

I am too late.

I watch as the mongrel's eyes bulge, staring at me. Blood coalescing with water begins to sizzle from its pores. Its limbs shrivel as vapors rise boiling from its contorting body. I look away, fleeing to where I left my pack.

Whimpering behind the coral, I want to be home near Zasha and Mika. If Zasha was here, she would protect me.

That poor mongrel had stumbled upon a small water cluster willing to crawl into the mongrel’s body, boiling and ending them both. Usually water merely drowns its victims, pressing onward for more life or larger amounts of itself to join. The small clusters are erratic, but virulent.

Some folk believe there's a colossal amount of water accumulating somewhere, powerful enough to go wherever it wants. But the water never climbs any higher than the rims of the great valleys.

I must keep moving. I trek for another hour deeper into Crater Valley, arriving at a cave system that I know well. I cornered water here before, the twists in the caverns appeared to confuse it. Drinking my last vial of purified water, I prepare my Pulsers and Mag-Net.

I creep into the cavern's mouth, staying close to the walls. Reaching a familiar crevasse, I wait. I'm terrified, forcing my breathing to remain light. The water seems to track the hot air we exhale.

An hour or so later, I hear it. Bubbling noises slapping along the rock face. I lunge, throwing a Pulser its direction before it can detect me. The Pulser bursts as it lands, triggering the water into a bulbous form. I throw my Mag-Net, wrapping round and paralyzing its contents. I wrestle the net's tether onto my back, tearing toward the entrance.

I hike the next two hours toward home, parched. Nearing the top of the rim, I can see a mongrel in Bridgers clambering over the edge, the brass buttons of its tail cover gleaming in emerald haze. I feel a pang of jealousy.

My foot gives way slipping over a shell, and I fall sideways, rolling. I catch sand, landing hard on my Mag-Net. My heart stops momentarily as I hear the electrical hum die. Please, not the battery. The water lunges through the net, extending above me like an ethereal appendage.

Time slows, and the fluorescent clouds break as a golden ray of light shines through. I can see myself in the water, a tremulous reflection unique from the mirror's.

"I see." I exhale, almost inaudible, as the clouds fight back the light and water engulfs my head. It is an incredible sensation, my thirst quenched for the first time I can recall. I crawl toward the rim, unable to breathe as the water holds an airtight helmet. My limbs begin to fail, chest convulsing.

I roll onto my back, vision filtered green towards the sky. Reaching into my safe pocket I pull out the gift from Zasha. I hold my locket necklace close one more time, the world closing around me.

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Zasha rises the next morning to knocking at her door. Kreeg is standing outside, looking grim.

"Good morning Ms. Zasha... I thought I should be the one to tell you – they found Rikter on the edge of Crater Valley rim this morning, drowned. Identified him from the “Z” on his vial. I'm real sorry. Looks like his Mag-Net got damaged." Zasha's eyes grow wide, speechless.

"Look, if you need me to advance some rations for you-"

"No need," Zasha cuts in, "we have several months worth of brown rations and purified water."

Kreeg pauses for a moment, gulping, "Ma'am, I know it isn't my place to ask, but – didn't a mongrel kill your husband a few years back? How could you raise Rikter knowing that?"

"The same way I'll raise the next one. They just need to know their place. You can throw his body in the ravine with the others."

As Kreeg turns to leave, he fumbles for something in his pocket.

"One last thing ma'am, forgive me-- it's a little odd. They found this old dog collar in Rikter's hands. Had it pressed up against his neck."

"Just throw it out. It's broken anyway. It was only a reminder...”

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An appeal to humanity to become humane. In loving memory of Mr. Bug.