Outpost

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This is a continuation of the adventures of Ryland. His first story is here.

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Ryland walked across the rocky sand, feet dragging, avoiding the tough, spiky plants. Makeshift foot coverings kept the scalding surface at bay.

He paused and pulled out a map, colors bright, resistant to the passage of time. He stared at it, stared at the distant hills on the horizon.

With a grunt, he folded it back up and tucked it into his pack, into a pocket that held a small rectangle made of some unknown material, yellowed with age. He aimed his steps at the hill on the right.

He thought about the village he left behind. No, he didn't leave it behind. He was Shunned and had to leave only, instead of crossing the river with its monsters, he crawled out of the crater that was their world.

It promised to be another long walk in the hot sun. It had been a couple of days already. He squeezed the last drops of moisture from his water skin into his arid mouth. Maybe at the end of it, there would be an answer.

Or even better, water.

The green, waxy plant with huge thorns covered the ground. He had to be careful, his footwear didn't really offer much protection. There were large, bulbous ones, easily avoided. There were ones with many flat paddles, also easily avoided. It was the small ones he had to look out for. They were constantly pricking his ankles. There were hairy looking ones. He made the mistake of thinking they would be soft and innocuous. Best to give those a wide berth. He especially stayed away from the ones that rose up out of the sand on a stalk with hanging bulbs covered in spikes. Step too close and the whole thing would tilt toward you, flailing you with its thorns.

Crater. That was a new word, one he had learned in the turret overlooking the village. There were signs over banks of rusted equipment that had run into puddles. There was a room that had shelves with things that had mouldered into oblivion. He had found a sealed container with packets labeled Meal A, Meal B, and so on, a bladder that he used for water, the small rectangle with a dark stripe along one side.

And the map, with other places labeled on it. He was on his way to the nearest one, Forward Observation Post, whatever that was. He couldn't figure out what was so special about a post that it would be marked. He snorted. If there was anything there after all this time, it would be special.

He looked at his destination. Sweat left a gritty feel all over him. He needed a rest but there was no shade in sight except for some at the base of his destination which seemed no closer. With a grimace, he shifted his pack and kept trudging along.

Thoughts about the signs he had seen intruded. There was one with instructions on targeting the moon with some marks scrawled on it saying, "Not the sun!" Was this moon thing the size of the Sun? As far as he had gathered, it came out at night. If it was as big as the sun, how did anyone sleep?

He looked at the hill.

Still too damn far.

* * *

The hill turned out to be much further than he realized. Its bulk dwarfed the lesser hills surrounding it. Ryland pulled out the map again, recalibrating the distances in his head.

Yes, this was the place marked on the map. He really hoped there was water, maybe even something to eat. He didn't much care for the found food.

There was still light. He would climb the hill and see if he could find the fabled stick today. Or even tomorrow after he found some water. There was nowhere for him to go. He started up the incline, loose scree tumbling in his climb.

He came upon a hard surface similar to the one he had encountered back home. He followed it as it ascended the hill. This was some stick, he thought as the shadows lengthened.

It went up and around the other side. The way ended in front of a building made of the same stone not-stone that he had encountered before. A door stood shut. Next to the door was a slit in the wall. Instructions in pictograms were on a small plaque above it. It seemed familiar.

He dug out the small rectangular card and slid it through the slot, stripe toward it. He heard a click. Experimentally, he twisted the handle on the door.

The door silently opened.

The sun dipping below the horizon. It was dark inside. Lights did not come on, like before. Exploring the post would have to wait.

He gathered brush and limbs to make a fire. Soon, sweet smelling smoke filled the air. He broke out one of the meals and ate in silence.

He was in trouble. Thirst was a constant companion now. He would have look for water first thing in the morning.

The night deepened. Sounds of creatures he didn't know filled the darkness beyond the firelight. Ryland piled more wood on the blaze.

There was loud crunching in the brush. He sat at attention, stick in hand. He squinted against the ruddy light.

It stepped into the circle. It towered over him by a good two heads, a tall, slender cone mottled in brown that came to a point. The base was a little wider than his shoulders. Two stout but short legs held it up. Long thin arms, about shoulder high, came down almost to the ground. A face, level with his, was carved in bas relief.

Ryland screamed.

The thing screamed and ran off into the night.

Ryland didn't get much sleep.

* * *

The light and growing heat of the day roused Ryland from his fitful dozing. Images of the nightmare from last night filled the scenes behind his closed eyes. He wanted a more secure location for tonight. He looked at the door.

Before, at the turret, lights had come on magically with the opening of the door. Last night, there had been no lights. With daylight, puddles of light spilled across the floor, coming from fixtures in the ceiling. His eyes adjusted.

The room was bare. There was a door on the right, going into the hillside. He could see another card sliding mechanism by it. In the far corner was a mound of some sort. He walked to it. His foot kicked at the detritus, scattering it. It seemed to be soft, fluffy material. He knocked over piles of plant parts he had seen growing on the spiky foliage outside. Something clattered.

There was a transparent cube next to the piles. It sloshed when he tried to push it with his foot.

Water! It was water!

Ryland dropped to his knees. There was a spigot on it. Trembling, he filled his cupped hand and took a mouthful. Nothing ever tasted as good.

Something made a noise behind him. He whirled.

It was the thing from last night. It was watching him. Ryland froze, unable to get up. The creature's long arm extended toward him. Ryland fell on his ass, getting wet in the process.

The arm went to the side and shut the spigot. It then picked a cup from the floor and held it up to him. Its face didn't change expressions. Ryland took the cup. It motioned to him, bringing its hand to its mouth.

"Ah, drink, with the cup!" Ryland felt his face grow hot. He filled it and drank. "Thank you very much."

He tried to put the cup down but the creature took it out of his hand, filled it and drank from it too. It then bent slightly forward toward him.

Ryland rummaged in his pack and brought out a meal packet. "It's not much, but you are welcome to it." He peeled it apart, took out two bars and held one up for the entity.

It took the offered food and sniffed it.

Ryland took a bite of his. "Yummy," he said, smiling.

The being followed suit. It did not smile. It gagged.

"Hey, spit it out. Spit it out!"

The creature swallowed and offered a smile.

"Do you have a name?" He pointed at himself. "Ryland. Ryland."

"Kry Land," came from it.

"Ryland."

"Kryland."

"Eh, close enough. What about you? What's your name?" Ryland pointed at the creature.

A sound issued from the mouth, grating on Ryland's ears. It sounded like some rusty metal pieces rubbing against each other.

"Ah, how about Krick? Can I call you Krick?"

The creature smiled. Ryland took that as a yes.

"Is this your bed, Krick?"

Krick stood, surveying the damage.

With a sigh, Ryland attempted to straighten the mess he had made. "I'm very sorry. I didn't realize this was your place." Satisfied with his effort, he gathered his things and stood. "Well, I guess I'll be leaving now." He glanced at the closed door in the hillside and headed out. He wondered where to go next and where he could find water.

Krick joined him, water cube in hand.

"I guess we're going to the same place."

Krick led the way. It didn't seem to mind the thorns at all. They harmlessly skid off his outer shell.

Ryland had to be more careful. "I really appreciate you showing me the way."

There didn't seem to be a path through the scrub. Krick went haphazardly through the vegetation. Ryland slowly followed. Krick stopped several times for him to catch up.

They had gone almost halfway down the hill when Krick stopped again and pointed. There was a clump of thick vegetation at the end of the path. Ryland walked past the waiting Krick who was making soft, fluting noises.

Inside the ring of greenery was a place where water seeped to the surface. Near a rocky outcropping was a little pool of clear water. It would have to do. Rylan took out his water skin and started filling it.

Krick let out a loud screech and ran off at a surprising speed.

Ryland was marveling at its reaction when he heard a voice.

"You are forbidden from being here."

He looked around.

A forest of spears pointed at him.