They tolerated her, gave her pitying looks as they brought her food and prayed beside her sickbed. She sat and listened and said nothing, and ate because food was never to be wasted. She ignored them watching her as she walked the walls of the town, finding her strength again. They gave her clothes, made her go shod. Their women were quiet, humble, and their weakness grated on her. Their men were wary, found her forward, threatening. She stopped speaking to either, even Isaac, who shadowed her, tried to read of solace from his books and lecture her when she troubled the other townies.
The children ran scared of her, and she suspected their elders had told them to stay away. Once, on her walk, she spotted them playing, boys and girls alike. She had to stop, to rest against a building, overcome. She could only see her boys, her sons, dead, gone…
Isaac found her there. He tried to take her hand, hold her as she cried. She attacked him, bloodying his face, laughing as she felt the bones of his arm break, the Red men would lose this time…
They kept her locked in a room until they drew a grudging apology, a promise to behave. They grew tense when she demanded a gun, to be let outside, to hunt. She grew angry when they said no. They said her spirit would be saved if she submitted to their god, bowed to their ways. She tore their holy books from their hands and threw them away when they told her the Walkers’ souls would not find peace unless she took their rites. They grew harsher, confining her, but she would not be held. Adal snuck out through the window, taught herself to pick the lock on her door. She wandered the silent town at night, tried to find ways over the walls. Found the traders from the west, New California, who let her into their borrowed lodgings, unaware of her pariah status. They were foreign, strange, and she lost herself in it, in the liquor they snuck past the townies.
The Canaanites’ patience finally broke when they found her with them one night, drunk and naked and wrapped around one of their men. She spat on them, spat on the doors to their town from the back of the trader’s brahmin cart.
She was Walker. No walls would hold her. No townies would give her orders.
She looked down at her civilized clothes, her booted feet, felt the sun on her unhooded head. Riding a cart instead of using her legs. Walker. She was…
Adal paid her keep to the caravan’s elder by hunting, using spears and knives, no longer worthy of a gun. To the one who traded her chems behind their backs, she paid in favors. She was dead to it as he used her, made herself be, was strong enough not to let it affect her. She walked with them until they reached the civilized lands to the west, sprawling towns and land used for nothing but plants.The caravaners were too slow and slovenly to keep dragging her feet alongside them, and she was tired of the ugly looks they gave her and the man who claimed her.
Their elder gave her caps to take packages instead, walking alone through this new world. Courier, people starting calling her. She left the caravan behind entire, learning the roads through New California, and making her own when they didn’t serve. She took to it, took strange jobs and packages and met strange people, never staying, never settling. There was peace in the solitude, alone with her thoughts and whatever chems she could buy to numb them. Alone on the roads, she was safe.
Alone on the roads, no one heard Adal weep, imagining the Walker keeping time.
Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
The children ran scared of her, and she suspected their elders had told them to stay away. Once, on her walk, she spotted them playing, boys and girls alike. She had to stop, to rest against a building, overcome. She could only see her boys, her sons, dead, gone…
Isaac found her there. He tried to take her hand, hold her as she cried. She attacked him, bloodying his face, laughing as she felt the bones of his arm break, the Red men would lose this time…
They kept her locked in a room until they drew a grudging apology, a promise to behave. They grew tense when she demanded a gun, to be let outside, to hunt. She grew angry when they said no. They said her spirit would be saved if she submitted to their god, bowed to their ways. She tore their holy books from their hands and threw them away when they told her the Walkers’ souls would not find peace unless she took their rites. They grew harsher, confining her, but she would not be held. Adal snuck out through the window, taught herself to pick the lock on her door. She wandered the silent town at night, tried to find ways over the walls. Found the traders from the west, New California, who let her into their borrowed lodgings, unaware of her pariah status. They were foreign, strange, and she lost herself in it, in the liquor they snuck past the townies.
The Canaanites’ patience finally broke when they found her with them one night, drunk and naked and wrapped around one of their men. She spat on them, spat on the doors to their town from the back of the trader’s brahmin cart.
She was Walker. No walls would hold her. No townies would give her orders.
She looked down at her civilized clothes, her booted feet, felt the sun on her unhooded head. Riding a cart instead of using her legs. Walker. She was…
Adal paid her keep to the caravan’s elder by hunting, using spears and knives, no longer worthy of a gun. To the one who traded her chems behind their backs, she paid in favors. She was dead to it as he used her, made herself be, was strong enough not to let it affect her. She walked with them until they reached the civilized lands to the west, sprawling towns and land used for nothing but plants.The caravaners were too slow and slovenly to keep dragging her feet alongside them, and she was tired of the ugly looks they gave her and the man who claimed her.
Their elder gave her caps to take packages instead, walking alone through this new world. Courier, people starting calling her. She left the caravan behind entire, learning the roads through New California, and making her own when they didn’t serve. She took to it, took strange jobs and packages and met strange people, never staying, never settling. There was peace in the solitude, alone with her thoughts and whatever chems she could buy to numb them. Alone on the roads, she was safe.
Alone on the roads, no one heard Adal weep, imagining the Walker keeping time.