I wait for the entire day. By nightfall, I realize they’re not coming back. They might have looked for me briefly in the canyons, but when they couldn’t find me, they decided that it was time to part ways. I can’t stay the night. Who knows what could come drink in the spring during the darkest hours. Some gods have territories, but others are always on the move. I also wouldn’t dare make a fire here, and the nights are cold.
I find my way out of the canyons, following the old roads.
I have nothing but the clothes on my back, minus the red hoodie that the man took. I’m back to square one, alone in the wastelands, as if my stay on theBeetlewas but a fever dream.
Thankfully, the moon is almost full and there are no clouds. I find a stone building near the road. Miraculously, it’s still standing. There is old dusty bedding inside, rolled in a corner. I’m not the first lost traveler to spend the night here. I curl up on myself, already mourning the bed on theBeetle, and struggle to find sleep.
When morning comes, I find three empty bottles disregarded in a trash can. I retrace my steps to the spring and fill them up. I tie the dirty sheet I found in the building around a stick to make a bundle that I can carry over my shoulder.
I have water and clothes on, I’ve been worse. This is just another hurdle along the road that is my life. I set out west, following the sun.
I walk for hours, until the sun is high in the sky. I find shade to avoid dehydration and save water. A few hours later, I make my way through the wastelands again. I follow some tire tracks in the dust, hoping that they will lead me to a settlement or another source of water. I can survive six days maximum with the three bottles I have.
I walk for hours even as night falls. Walking until my feet are sore and I’m exhausted. Luckily, I find an abandoned ranch. Most of it is in ruins, but it provides a nice shelter until morning. I build a fire behind the broken walls, hiding the light. Once the flames are high enough, I rummage through the old house for things that could be useful. I find a rusty knife and a shovel. I spend half an hour pushing everything around the ruins with the shovel, until a snake comes out. I crush its head and roast it over the fire.
I have a little food and some water. I’m doing okay. I eat in silence.
Without a book to read, I just sit for a while, watching the flames. Yes. I’m good. I’m used to being alone. And yet, the sudden solitude feels like a punch in the gut.
Unwanted memories bubble to the surface of my consciousness. After my mom died when I was thirteen, I traveled alone through the wastelands for a while. I cried myself to sleep every night. I didn’t know where to go, so I just walked, hoping that I would reach the coast, eventually. Of course, I ran out of water long before that. A group of nomads found me half-dead under the sun. They almost left me there, but Oliver, their leader, took one look at me and decided that he wanted to keep me. They gave me water and food.
Oliver…
I don’t like to think about him. He’s the first mutant I ever met. He was fifteen, but already so powerful that he imposed respect and people followed him. That’s why they didn’t question his desire to keep me, even though I was a weak kid and just another mouth to feed.
“What’s your name?” he asked as soon as I was aware of my surroundings.
The nomads had set me up under a tent, protected from the sun.
“Helios,” I croaked, voice rough from unuse.
“Helios…” he repeated. “I like it. It sounds like the name of a god. A god of sunlight. It’s perfect. I’m a god too, you know.”
And I watched him in awe then. His dark hair was cut short. Asian-American, I realized. But his almond-shaped eyes were the strangest color blue. The color twirled inside them, as if they were made of magic.
I learned quickly that he shared his DNA with a god that dwells in the underwater caves of Venezuela. A giant eel-like god that they called Urara. Just like her, he could build up electricity in his core and could release it in bursts. At fifteen, he was already fearsome. He could burn men to a crisp with his electricity in the matter of seconds. And that was without counting on his superhuman strength and resilience. Even before reaching adulthood, he was more fearsome than most men.
I admired him. He was my savior and the god of my world. And he turned me into his pet. I followed him everywhere, whether I wanted it or not. I was his plaything in every aspect. I stayed two years on the road with him and his little army.
Two years was more than enough to see Oliver slowly turn into a monster. He was drunk on his power. He crushed any resistance on his way and left deep gashes in the world. In the last weeks before my escape, he terrified me. I slept on a bed at his feet at night, and I trembled, wondering in what mood he would wake up in the next morning. I had white scars all over my skin, where his electricity had coursed through me when I had displeased him.
On the last day that I saw him, the camp was attacked by another group. I didn’t know who it was, and I didn’t care. Amidst the chaos, Oliver lost sight of me while he was killing his enemies. I stole food and water, and I ran. I ran for a day and a night, and then I hid.
I knew he would have looked for me as soon as he realized I wasn’t among the casualties. Not because he cared about my well-being, but because he hated losing his playthings.
Weeks went by, and he never found me. I went north, as far as possible, until I encountered a traveling merchant who traded a map of the U.S in exchange for free labor for a day. It was the beginning of a long journey where I went where the wind took me. I walked over borders, crossed paths with old gods and mutants alike.
Until the day I got captured by slavers and found my way to another mutant’s side. But Griffin is nothing like Oliver. He didn’t want anything to do with me, and yet he still agreed to help me because I asked. At first, I expected him to take me at my word and use me in all the ways he wanted. That’s what I’m used to. But he didn’t.
My stay with him, as short as it has been, was refreshing. Hell, they were some of the best weeks of my life.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. I watch the flames and try to ignore the tears that threaten to fall.
“It’s okay, Helios,” I say out loud. “Everything is just back to normal. Life goes on.”
I curl up near the fire and look at the stars above me, wondering where theBeetleis. Wondering if Griffin is enjoying the books I left him, and if Beet misses me just a little.
At sunrise, I’m awakened by the ground shaking. I wait behind the wall, not making a sound or a move. Most times, staying very calm and hiding is the best defense. Over the years, I’ve seen so many people panic and run from their cover, only to get eaten or crushed alive by a god who was only walking by.
