”Keep away from them, Marie!” Angry shout and girl scooted away from ragged group of men, retreating hastily to the front porch of the ramshackle hut where her father stood. Her father, tall and strong blacksmith of the village cast disgusted look towards the group before pushing Marie back inside and following her.
“Who were they, daddy?” She asked when they sat in front of the fireplace and he took out bowls, scooping generous amounts of stew for both of them from a pot hanging above the crackling fire. She had seen the group of black clad men from a distance. Once they got in to the village she was drawn to them like moth to the flame. They were first visitors in years. First strangers she had ever seen.
“Destroyers. On their way to the front line. They spend the night in here and leave by morning. I don’t want you to go out before they’re gone.”
Destroyers. Word send shivers down her spine. Nana had told stories about them. Wild creatures. Unclean creatures. No more than animals. Nana had seen one Destroyer when she had been just a little girl from a distance.
“Runaway. They were carting it back to outpost. Vicious looking. Saw nightmares of it weeks after…” Nana had finished her story and rubbed her arms as if she was cold.
“Daddy? Will you stay in tonight?” She was a bit scared. She was used to that her father worked late, often through the whole night, but tonight was different. Anything could happen when Destroyers were in the village.
“No. I have to finish those cartwheels Murdoch ordered week ago. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. They won’t come in to the shop. And I’m sure they are well guarded. Now… Eat up and wash the dishes. Don’t stay up late…” Her father said standing up and ruffling her hair before leaving. She could hear him locking the door.
He sat down slowly and scratched his neck against a wooden support pillar. Sand had gotten under the suppression collar, and it was chafing. He tried to lie down comfortably, but it was impossible. There was a heavy metal band around his waist, and his hands were shackled to it to his backside. He sighed, kneeled on the floor and lowered his body on top of his thighs, head propped against the hard floorboards. It was a bit awkward position, ass sticking up in the air and he would wake up from a puddle of drool, but he had learned from experience it was the safest way to slumber. Easy and fast to get back on your feet in case of emergency. Others of his kind were also lying down around him.
He could feel small feet scurrying all over his skin. Lice. Not harmful, but unbelievable uncomfortable. His clothes were swarming with them. He had asked one of the Guards to shave his head to keep them off from his face. Guard had shaken his head. They weren’t paid to do that. That was a job for a Mechanic.
Well, it wasn’t that bad. At least he had gotten food. Guards had driven their little troop mercilessly forward for week now, allowing them mere hours of rest and only enough nutrients and water to keep them functioning. He knew he would pay for the meat and bread little later with nasty internal cramps, but now he was in a blissful state. Little uncomfortable, but warm and with full belly. With a promise of one night undisturbed sleep.
She had washed the dishes, and sat in front of the fireplace reading. Something Nana had taught her before she died few years ago. Not many could do that anymore. There were only three other persons in the whole village that could read. Her father, storekeeper Simmons and reverend Uphill. Books were hard to find, but every now and then Simmons ordered them to his store. His father would buy one, read it, and if it was suitable, give it to Marie.
This one wasn’t so interesting. It was a serious book for adults who liked long and hard words, but she was reading it anyway, to train her brain. And to keep her mind occupied. She had tried to go to sleep, but as soon as she closed her eyes she started hearing things. At one point she had been dead-on sure somebody was sneaking around in the kitchen. Impossible. There was no way anybody but her father could get in, but the thought of strangers in the village, Destroyers, made her jumpy and paranoid. So she had taken the book from the shelf and started reading it.
Shit. Should have known not to drink that water. But it had tasted so good, and he had been so thirsty. Now his bladder was full, nearly bursting from the pressure, and he would have to get up and ask one of the Guards to help him. They weren’t exactly thrilled if their charges didn’t stay put after bedtime. More than once he had bought the right to answer to nature’s call with a split lip or bruised ribs.
Crap. There was no way out of this. He would wet himself if he didn’t get out soon. It wasn’t much better option. He still remembered the treatment they had given him when he had caught an infection. He had been literally unable to hold, and Guards had gotten a field day with him, taunting, kicking and beating until all he could do was to lie on a broken, bloody heap on the ground. They had taken the suppression collar off to let him heal from it, and his mutation had taken care of the infection, too.
He scooted on his knees and wrinkled his nose. His left cheek had fallen asleep, and it was tingling. He scratched it against the wooden support beam next to him before standing up. Slowly. Slow, careful movements. Head and shoulders bent, eyes cast to the ground. He wanted to squirm and run, but all he could do was to wait until somebody noticed him and allowed him to speak.
“What the fuck do you want, Wolverine?” Higgins. He suppressed a relieved sigh. Higgins was a hard man, but he was a decent man. Not like the other Guards.
“I need to take a leak.” Voice sounded funny coming out of him. It had been weeks since he had last spoken.
“Okay… You know the drill…” Higgins sighed and jiggled the keychain, urging him to step closer.
Higgins had freed his right hand and stood behind him, heavy rifle cocked and ready, pointing at him. He didn’t mind. He would have done the same. Higgins knew what he was capable of. He had seen up close the end result of carelessness.
“Ready?” Higgins asked.
“Not yet…” He had already peed for what felt like an hour.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your mutation was the ability to produce urine. Come on, Wolverine! I don’t have all night…” Higgins was nagging, but he could hear from his voice that the Guard was in a good mood, so he dared to press his luck a bit.
“Could you… Could you let me wash myself?”
She was going nuts. Crazy, like that farmer from out of town. Hearing voices when there was nobody but her at home. She checked the kitchen for the fifth time, finding it neatly organized and empty, just as she left it after washing the dishes. She had discarded the book and just sat in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth and slightly distracting, crackling sounds that it made.
“He’ll be home soon, and I can go to sleep…” She whispered, yawning widely. She knew she was wrong. Her father wouldn’t come home soon. He would be back by morning, reeking of hot metal and coals, dog-tired.
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get out of the house. She decided to go to her father’s shop. She could sleep there. There she would be safe, and she wouldn’t keep hearing strange noises over the banging and clatter of her father’s hammer. He would be angry, but what could happen to her if she run straight to there? It was just around the corner. All she had to do was to go through the marketplace and she would be safe.
“Thanks. Thanks for this,” Wolverine stuttered, not believing his good luck. Higgins had scratched his neck for a while, pondering his question.
“Well, you sure could use some soap and water. Hell, all you guys could. I think I saw a well at the marketplace earlier. Place should be empty at this time of night. But remember… Try anything and I put a hole through your gut…” Higgins had said and guided him to the right direction. Soap. Real soap and clean water. Higgins had taken off his shackles and kept the rifle aimed at him. Wolverine stretched his back and shoulders. Discarded his filthy clothes and admired the small white rectangular on his palm. Size of a matchstick box. Little piece of heaven.
“Go on,” Higgins urged him, slightly amused.
He worked up generous amount of lather after downing a bucket of water over his filthy body. His skin was tingling and bristling. Soap had a peculiar, sharp scent. He tossed a surprised glance to Higgins.
“Fuck, I know what it’s like. To reek like a fucking piece of shit and feel all kinds of itsy bitsy critters crawling all over you. We arrive to the outpost tomorrow, I can restock my pack there,” man said. Higgins had given him his own soap. Not the crap they usually gave to field units. Real stuff, the kind that helped to get rid of grime, filth and vermin.
“Higgins… Thanks.” His throat constricted alarmingly, so he shut his mouth and eyes and started to clean his head.
He was scrubbing his clothes clean with what was left of the soap. Suddenly he stopped and tilted his head. Higgins nodded.
“I smell it, too. Smoke.” He turned to look to the other side of the marketplace.
“Blacksmith. His shop is on fire.”
“Shit. You’re right, Wolverine,” Higgins said, taking a hesitant step towards the shop.
“Two people inside,” Wolverine said. Higgins looked torn. He looked towards the shop. Black smoke curled up from the chimney. No outward sign of roaring flames yet. He looked at Wolverine. Only mild curiosity shone from Destroyer’s eyes. Granted, Wolverine was the most humane from the group they were guarding, but he wasn’t a human being. Metal collar around his neck was silent testimony of his true nature.
“Want to be a hero?” Higgins asked. Wolverine shrugged his shoulders. Higgins reached for the small electronic device on his belt. It would cut the current from Wolverine’s collar.
“If I turn it off, what will you do?” He asked. Wolverine tilted his head.
“I’m not going to gut you, if that’s what you’re thinking of. You’re one of the nicest of these bastards herding us.” It was enough. Higgins pushed a button. Wolverine groaned and stretched his shoulders. Took deep breaths. And looked suddenly all too strong and tall for Higgins’ taste.
“You want me to get them out?” Wolverine asked, nodding towards the shop that was nearly completely engulfed by flickering flames.
“Go!”
If he got lucky, he would burn bad enough. Bad enough to slip the collar off from around his neck. So he didn’t try to find the safest possible route to the back of the shop. He deliberately chose the hard way, going through scorching inferno, letting it fry his body. When he reached his destination, the actual forge, he was stripped to his skeleton. Nearly unable to move, bleeding profusely.
Blacksmith was no more than a charred corpse sprawled over the forge. His daughter, a little girl that had observed them earlier that day, was hiding in the far corner shielding her face and body from the heat.
Had he stopped to think, he would probably acted differently. But in the back of his mind he knew he didn’t have much time left before Higgins got suspicious. He grabbed a firm hold from his collar and yanked it upwards. It slid off easily. He threw it away, grabbed the girl and run out from the back door. Girl was screaming. At first he thought she was just scared of his hideous appearance, metal skeleton covered with bits and pieces of burnt flesh, but soon he realized she was crying out of pain. Metal on top of his bones was slowly cooling down, but it was still too hot for new flesh to grow over it, no matter how hard his mutation tried to heal the damage he had taken. That meant that he had to be burning her with his touch.
He placed the girl to the ground. Now he could hear voices, screaming and shouting. They were approaching rapidly. He could hear Higgins cursing loudly. Somebody had probably told him that the shop had a backdoor. Last glance to the crying girl. He had burned her. Clothes on her were charred. Skin and flesh underneath was bloody, blistered mess.
“I’m sorry, kid. Take care of yourself,” He whispered before fleeing to the night.
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