Chapter 8: Long Walk Home

“Hey, where did he go?”

Several men in faded coats and suspenders gathered in a circle, each gazing in a different direction. Several had scars that decorated their lips and skin like trophies children would show to their classmates. Wickin hats of matted fiber sat slanted on several heads that pivoted from each of the four tunnels in the crossway. Most were teenagers, jittering about like they hadn’t gotten their fix yet. Two were adults with mismatched clothing that resembled the current trends like a scorch to a human. One was middle-aged with a clean Deno robe with eyes of dark coal spikes that gutted the walls as it looked. 

“He couldn’t have gone far. Keep your distance and follow him. He will eventually return to his stash. Spread out.”

The rocky scrap voice from the old man was the spark in the oil caldron, unleashing the strung up energy into adrenaline. The teenage gang-wannabes bulleted through the tunnels like starved hounders after a piece of meat. Each split down the branching concrete veins of the Backways lit by small ceiling lights, scouring the walls and corners.

A smaller teenager ran down the carved halls, sifting through the divergent paths and checking the locked maintenance doors. Pockets of dust and grime lacked footprint, handprints, or any sign that anyone had visited in the last few weeks. The several layers of clothes and face coverings trapped the heat and spent breath, burning his energy into lethargy.

Several minutes passed with nothing to show, the gangster turned back dejected. Until a fist smashed into his jaw. Blurs of color rushed through his flickering vision as his hand gripped the wall to prevent him from free falling while the other was sent back to the attacker. Snake-like arms threaded through his arms, twisting them into a useless knot and gripping his throat and mouth. The trapped air in his lungs burned and his limbs flailed.

“Now now, it is rude to try to steal from people. Don’t worry, I am feeling generous today, so all you will have to do is sleep for a while.”

Tears streamed down his face. The fire ate him from the inside like worms and maggots. His vision became ashed and dark. His body stopped - stopped moving and stopped feeling, as the numbness devoured him.

…

“Heh, hehh.” The mobster leader choked on the blood leaking from his face. Black and blue bruises swelled all over his blood stained face. His once pressed and clean clothes were dyed in blood and grim. The bones in his limbs screamed and his heart was beating itself to death. His mind was sludged in the pain, unable to think.

“Now, what were you trying to do? Don’t tell me you thought I was some soul with deep pockets you could kill and rob easily. How did you think this was going to end? How did you think I got the cash in the first place?”

Ares reached down and grabbed the wisps of hair from his balding head, exposed by the fallen handcrafted wicken hat.

“Ahhh - AHHHHH!”

“Don’t give me some bullshit, like you are the son of some gang leader. Even if you were, I would like to see you try something. Anything. If only you were like that, then I could have some fun. It has been such a long time since I have actually hunted something. It would be great if your gang would offer itself up. Well, I guess it already did, no crime boss that I have ever met would have such pussy rusters like you. Tell you what, I will let you free this time.”

Ares gripped his skull in a claw, and used his other hand to open up the man’s eyes. He brought him to a breath away from him and locked him in the eyes.

“However, if I ever see you again, I will rip your jaw from your skull. Have I made myself clear?”

“Y..ye..s.”

“Good.”

Ares threw the skin bag back into his corner and left. The bodies of the unconscious and the moans from those not surround him in the intersecting paths. The thugs were scattered throughout the various halls, some rolled over, some heaving, and some covered in their own blood. 

The Backways, the tunnels that connected the different layers and districts together were a maze that few explored. There were main roads that connected the districts that were safer and easier to use, and the only thing that the Backways hid were maintenance rooms that managed the pipes and infrastructure. The only people who lived there were the ones that the Pile wouldn’t accept.

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Ares walked through the tunnels, checking the bottom of corners at intervals for small marks carved into the stone. Legends say that many had lost their lives in these tunnels, that naughty children had run away only to starve and rot away, never to be found again. These wives’ tales had a bit of truth, getting lost could make you starve. No maps were made of this place, there was no need. Illegal activity was impossible to coordinate, and storage of contraband couldn’t be long term thanks to maintenance checks.

Following the connection of maintenance and gang symbols, the dilapidated grim-filled Backways changed into the clean sterile Hive. Ares navigated the crowds and gatherings of neighbors chatting, trying to avoid the several gazes from friends of his aunt and uncle. None of the looks in their eyes were friendly, and small whispers were shared as they focused on him. Ares rushed through the different floors and retreated into his uncle’s apartment.

“Haaaaa.”

Behind the closed door Ares sat down, back against the door. Through the cracks he could hear the faint echo of words. Ares's eyes were vacant, staring off in a general direction. His breathing was sluggish like a thick syrup. Several minutes passed before he got up and dusted his clothes off. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small head poking around the corner. It was a little boy, only about ten cycles old, with dark hair and silver eyes like Ares. When the two made eye contact, the boy hid behind the corner. Ares smiled, got right next to the corner, and said, “Hey, Hephes, would you like me to tell you the story about how I caught a scorch?”

Moments later, an uncertain voice replied, “Sure.”

“Well, I was only on my sixteenth cycle at the time. I had no money for food or a place to stay, and nobody wanted me on their team. The dust season was going to end soon, so I did what I needed to do. I grabbed some scrap supplies and provisions I had stored in case of an emergency, and walked off into the Badlands.”

Hephes stuck his eye around the corner. The rest of his body was still behind the wall. 

“What are the Badlands like?”

“The Badlands are an endless expanse of barren land and the scorch. Layers of weeds that could survive a long time without the sun created meadows of needles and knives. Imagine if you were to look somewhere and not see a wall, but a horizon where the ground meets the sky.”

“What is the sky like?” Hephes was lured from the corner with eyes that seemed to grow bigger.

“It is always gray, with a little light sifting through the dust shield to show where the sun is. If you just look up, you could keep seeing forever. Under that sort of sky, not tones of stone used as a ceiling, you feel free. You could choose any direction, and go there. There were so many people…”

“What are the scorch like?”

“Hmm…The scorch are monsters born when someone bathes in the sun’s evil light. They are corruption incarnate. Some are oil and sludge-like, others have insect shells all over them, some look like the human they once were, and some don’t look human at all. Each is different in how you kill or capture them. Some are fast, some are slow but strong, and others could be smashed with a mountain and still be fine.”

“If they are monsters, why would anyone want to buy one alive?”

“Scientists and alchemists love them for some reason. Hey, would you like me to show you my gun?”

“Aren’t guns prohibited?”

Ares looked at him and smiled. “I am a bounty hunter, I am the exception.”

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