September 14th, 2199.
Sweetbox, 14 miles below The Pacific Trail.
In the time of early through late summer the coastal grasslands below the Pacific Trail ranged in temperatures that were almost as hot as some of the desert areas in the neighboring Maricopa, so whenever the stormy season seemed to sweep in early from the coast it was a much-needed relief by the time of early September, especially for the few mud huggers that lived near the small area known as Sweetbox. Mud huggers, people that lived underground in grass and dirt covered- man-made bunkers, there were only a sparse few left, some collapsed under the weight of the earth that lye on top of them, a few others were abandoned long ago when the occupants had long since grown tired of the grasslands and migrated to other areas. One man, in particular, had survived everything that nature in the grasslands had thrown at him, from floods to fires, from caravans of those damn obnoxious hoarders from Dewfork, driving wagon after wagon across the top of his bunker until he thought that the ceiling might just cave in, but Augustus Bartholomew Cuthbert had seen it all and prevailed, this season though something just felt different, the storms weren’t letting up, one after another had rolled over the grasslands, each one worse than the last. He had already had to cut three hunting trips short, and they weren’t even halfway through September. Usually by now he had already had three or four successful hunts to his credit, out of most of the dwelling houses in the greater Sweetbox area, he was one of the most successful hunters there, and aside from the occasional run-in with two local women over the hills to the east of him his hunts usually went unchallenged, but thirty-two-year-old Althea Beatrice Hood and her pal Drusilla Pennington were for the most part plant eaters, and whenever the opportunity to sabotage one of Auggy’s fur traps to keep him from snaring and killing small game of the area for their meat and fur they couldn’t resist not only damaging his prized traps but many times they would outright destroy them.
The first time that Augustus had seen the three strange looking men on horseback, it was mid-morning, and he was walking the crown of Tinker’s Peak, a series of sharp pointed hills that cut through the northern edge of the grasslands, one of the storms that day that had rolled in from the Pacific Ocean, driven by moderately high winds had been beating at his back all morning, he was still a full three miles from his bunker when off in the distance he saw the three pull rein, stopping near an abandoned bunker, The entrance was almost completely covered with weeds Auggy had seen many strangers pass through the area before, but somehow his gut was telling him that these three were different, and not in a good way. He stayed below the line of sight, keeping his back toward the crown of Tinker’s Peak, the side of the hills would allow him to follow at a safe distance and still not be seen by the riders as he blended in with the background of the hillside. They stuck to the peak and rode the crown, he’d gathered to prevent anyone from approaching them, from the crown they could clearly see in any direction making it near impossible for anyone to sneak up on them. He kept his distance but tried to follow until they’d gotten so far ahead that he could no longer keep pace, so he waited for a time until they were completely out of sight before he turned and headed for home. He’d made note that the riders were headed towards the east away from the next leg of storms that were rolling into the grasslands, which were moving faster than he was, which meant to him that if he didn’t quicken his pace he was going to get caught in the middle of a downpour. He made it a full fifty yards from his bunker before the first raindrops hit him.
It was the loud crash of thunder that made him stop abruptly and turn his attention to the northeast in time to see that something had gotten the three riders attention and caused them to move down the side of the hill in the distance, stopping at the edge of the valley floor. Auggy felt his heart begin to pound in his chest when he saw the two small figures approach the riders on foot, he was much too far away to see clearly exactly what caused the exchange that would take place next. With the wind pounding away at his back and the rain lashing across his face he could still focus enough to see the lead rider strike down the first figure, the second now frightened turned and ran in the opposite direction, the two rear riders ran them down quickly, and one jumped from their animal and quickly tied them up and threw them across the front of the first horse, they then turned and rode away disappearing over one of the peaks. Augustus knew in his gut that the two figures on foot were Althea Hood and her friend Drusilla, and friend, foe, or other, it didn’t matter, they were still two of his neighbors, and Auggy knew that if the one that had been cut down was still alive he simply had to help them. He dropped his packs and almost stumbled and fell getting to the bottom of the hill, by the time he’d made it to Drusilla’s side he was almost soaking wet and the riders were nowhere to be seen. He knelt down beside of her and checked for a pulse, Drusilla was still very much alive but unconscious. He struggled to pick her up, never noticing that were more riders making their way down the hills to his back, He turned toward them just as they spotted him and began to quicken their pace.
Mox, Trip, and Ava all three pulled rein to see if Auggy had needed aid for the person he was carrying, he was just forty feet from them when he stumbled and fell with Drusilla still in his arms, Mox called out to him but all he could hear in return were muffled grunts. He cautiously got down from his horse while motioning to Trip and Ava to stay put, he went over to help Auggy to his feet. He put his arms under Drusilla to relieve the weight from Auggy’s so he could regain his balance. He drew a deep breath, slowly exhaling a sigh of relief once he realized Mox and his friends meant no harm. Auggy looked up at the tall, lean young man as he took Drusilla up into his arms, he looked back up to the sky and then back at Mox.
“It’s gonna get ugly out here.” He said.
Mox studied the skyline, slowly nodding in agreement.
“Is there someplace around here where we can get out of this weather?” Mox asked Auggy.
“There is a hallowed out burrow in back of one of the deserted bunkers near my place, maybe twenty feet from it, it’s still really solid, we can bed down your animals in there, we can all fit in my bunker til this nasty storm passes,” Auggy told them.
Over the rise of the nearest hill to their back amidst the faint echoes of thunder, Mox detected a familiar sound, The shriek of a cantankerous voice yelling at the top of its lungs accompanied a familiar crack of a whip, but when Mox saw the lumbering forms of Bull and Tak lumbering over the round of the hill he fought back a smile, they weren’t going to Dewfork anymore. Pilgrim was coming to Sweetbox.
~Scratch. A.B.T. Copyright © 2017~
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