The mutant!
If there is one person who knows how to survive this mess, it’s him. I don’t know whose god he got his DNA from, but he looks efficient.
Three slaves come crashing down on me in the next quake. There are screams coming from the desert, beyond the ruins. I think a few managed to get away, but Shai-Hulud caught them.
I’ve never crossed paths with this god, but I know one thing for sure: don’t run in the desert. He’ll sense it and come after you.
I push the other slaves away and get back to my feet. Where is he?
There! A tall shadow is finding its way to the broken stairs that lead to a watchtower that is still standing. I run after him.
He gives me a look when I reach him. I can’t see his face, but the way his eyes linger on me is enough to tell me that he’s annoyed. But he says nothing as I follow him through the building and to the watchtower. More screams echo through the desert.
He stands in the middle of the small tower and watches the desert. The sun is rising on the horizon. The tower shakes with every impact as Shai-Hulud hunts down the survivors through the desert. I think I can see the shape of the giant creature who got his name from the sand worms in the science-fiction bookDune. The creature used to live in the imagination of Frank Herbert, a writer of the twentieth century. But now it’s our reality. He has been on Earth all along, sleeping centuries away until the time came to wake again. I read that book when I was twelve. And I was relieved that we just had one Shai-Hulud, and not an entire species of giant sand worms. I don’t feel as relieved right now. One is more than enough.
“Are we safe here?” I ask my savior.
He takes a while to answer.
“No. But it’s better than down there,” he says.
I guess he’s right. At least here, we don’t draw attention to ourselves. Unlike the slaves who are running amok in the desert.
“You freed them just to let them get eaten by a giant worm,” I say.
This time, my savior turns his attention to me. I feel the hostility emanating from him, even though he’s barely moving.
“I gave them a chance to survive,” he says. “What they do with it from now on is not my problem. I can’t stop them from running into the worm’s mouth.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Our world is ruled by the survival of the fittest. We make a bad decision, and we lose. The other slaves gambled by running through the desert. I chose to follow the mutant.
And it looks like my gamble paid off. As the sun rises, our watchtower stands tall while Shai-Hulud finishes off the last survivors. I can see him clearly now. He’s as long as a football field and as wide as a bus. But the resemblance to a worm stops there. His body is covered in silver scales. I know for a fact that they’re made from a special alloy that makes his skin stronger than anything on earth. Every scale has spikes that allow him to crawl through the ground. It’s the first time that I’ve seen him in person, but I’ve read so much about him.
“Beautiful,” I say.
Because it’s true. His scales shine under the morning light. He moves in and out of the ground with impressive ease and grace. I know I shouldn’t admire the murderous creature as he devours the last humans on his territory, but I can’t help myself. We call him a god, but he’s really just an animal. An apex predator. It’s not personal; we’re just food.
The mutant gives me a look.
Now that the sun is up, I take time to study him. The hood of his long coat is still hiding most of his face, but I can see a sharp jawline—clean-shaven. He has dark hair that falls wildly just below his ears. I can’t see the glow of his eyes in the daylight.
As if noticing the attention I’m giving him, he harrumphs and takes the stairs. He walks slowly, so as not to cause strong vibrations in the structure. I follow him.
We walk like this for a while, until we exit the building.
“Stop following me,” he says, then walks out to the desert.
I hesitate for an instant, then decide to follow him further. He knows what he’s doing.
“Are you sure he won’t attack us?” I whisper.
He glares at me over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me,” he repeats.
I ignore him. “He won’t hear us like this?”
He sighs. “He can hear us, but we don’t sound like substantial prey right now. He just had a big meal. He’ll sleep it off somewhere underground.”
