The Outer Lands

Ice crystals descend from a sunless sky in a transient spell. They hit the destitute ground with a warning, inescapable and silent. Anther watches them, jaw tensed, through a hole in the metal wall used for a window. They tell a story. Winter has arrived.

A welcoming sight to those fortunate enough to live in the Inner City. Resentment twists inside Anther’s gut like a venomous snake, paused and waiting to strike, as he pictures their faces full of delight. Are they watching the dawning of a new season from their balconies, sipping hot drinks, smiles on their lips? All while he braves the Outer Lands and fights for each breath, every meal, even a sip of water.

A foot away Toad sleeps, mouth open, lengthy soot black hair plastered in all directions. One good shove of Anther’s steel toed boot sends the younger boy sprawling from his bed to the dirt floor. “Let’s get an early start,” Anther says, “We’ll regret it if we don’t.”

Toad rolls to a sitting position, a groan escaping his lips, blinking the heavy traces of sleep from eyes tinted teal like the oceans of legend. The colorful hues a sea used to boast before they turned into a diminished green, spoiled and rotting, or dried out entirely. One that existed in The Old World. A time when the water thrived with marine life and wouldn’t boil a man alive who stepped inside it.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Toad says, climbing back into bed. “Let’s give in and die – it’s less work.”

Amusement pulls at Anther’s lips despite his foul mood. “Didn’t peg you for a quitter, Toad. If you’re ready to throw in the towel, I’ll just –,” he moves to the chest at the foot of Toad’s bed.

“Don’t even think about it,” the younger guy warns, “I’d hate for you to lose those fingers of yours.”

Warm vibration shakes Anther’s ribcage as he laughs. To a Scavenger, their treasure is a possession worth more than the blood hissing through their veins. The two had spent several years collecting everything under the unforgiving sun. An eclectic collection from tools for survival to relics of a life before the transmutation of Earth’s atmosphere. 

One thing they hadn’t been able to stockpile – others like themselves; humans with damaged DNA called Scavengers. They had only discovered a handful of others. More were out there, scared and alone, fighting for their lives. The chemical changes inside them allowed a fighting chance at survival when banished to the Outer Lands. A place which paid the price for the past sins of men who dared to play God.

These arrogant men had learned to manipulate the weather with a synthetic gas, phagos, setting off a dismal chain of events that altered Earth’s climate in reprehensible ways. Old World cities were wiped off the map from multiple volcanic eruptions, buried under catastrophic mud slides, devoured by oceans of exposed magma in Earth's cracking crust. Sources of drinkable water became scarce. Edible plants became poisonous. Animals were subject to the same fate as humans – evolution or extinction.

“Layer up, Princess. It’s a bit frosty,” Anther says. “Can’t have you catching cold.”

“It’s only when I’m sick that I get to see a softer side of you,” Toad says, face alight with unyielding playfulness. “So… nurturing – loving. You really are the best mother a son could ask for.”

Anther scowls. They are only four years apart in age. “And you’re the laziest piece of shit son a mother could ask for. Get dressed so we can go.”

Anther lifts the door built into the center of the floor and drops to the underground sanctuary beneath it. “Old man,” Anther says, “We’re heading out before the snow gets too heavy. Any special requests?”

Lofty tears his eyes away from his latest child – a seedling plant – and gives Anther a slow creeping grin. “Only one… give em hell.”

The sanctuary is full of his children, all different sizes. Interesting crossbreeds - some of them proving nontoxic and even edible. A genius botanist, the elderly man had configured a way to cultivate plant life with innovative grow lights powered by wind turbines. Deep in the belly of their underground refuge they had struck gold two-fold for the rest of his success; a meager groundwater reservoir, untainted, and a geothermal pocket providing the perfect temperature for plants to thrive. 

Yara, the newest member of their ragtag family, leaves her hiding place behind the old man and wraps herself around Anther’s leg. Her dark eyes burn into his. “It’s snowing! I wanna play outside, bubba.”

Late last year, the girl’s mother had placed her outside the city walls to avoid breaking the law. At age eight, Yara had already developed the scarlet Scavenger ring around her neck. Proof enough to those who live inside its gates that she’s a genetic freak of nature. One who can’t be saved. This is according to Dr. Gaarp, a brilliant atmospheric engineer. He developed a means to protect the Inner City’s air supply. It’s his law that dictates humans with genetic mutations must be separated from those without. If the small slice of world he had saved were to be contaminated, it welcomed the downfall of humanity.

Anther drops to his knees with an easy smile and grips the girl’s hands in his. “Yara,” he breathes out.

She’s used to the city and has yet to discover the dangers of life outside it. Hope lights her eyes; a slow simmering hatred for the Inner City blisters Anther’s gut because of it. Why do humans use fear and bigotry to divide themselves? A girl like Yara deserves to be safe. She’s human. Instead, she’s out here with him. Another childhood ripped away in the face of bleak reality.

“I’ll take you soon, I promise.” As soon as the words leave his lips, a storm colder than the one outside threatens him.

“You always say that,” she says. Her icy glare pierces his chest. “You never do. Liar. I hate it here!”

“Do you want a present Yara-bara?” Toad rhymes, his head’s upside down through the doorway that leads above. One arm keeps him from falling and the other dangles toward the sanctuary’s floor with a stuffed bear. Anther recognizes it. It's part of Toad’s diverse treasure trove.

Yara abandons Anther entirely in her pursuit of the new toy. “I love it!” She presses its fur to her cheek. “I’m going to name it Berry,” she confides.

“You spoil her too much,” Anther says, after closing the door, topside again. He slides a gas mask over his face. An overabundance of caution. Phagos isn’t a death sentence for the likes of him. Still, it's a lot heavier in the air outside the compound versus inside. A heavy dose for a Scavenger all at once can cause a euphoric sensation. It alters their sense of time and place. Hardly responsible when setting out on a mission to retrieve supplies.

“You’re jealous because she likes me more,” Toad teases. “Those cute little cheeks. I hate it when she cries, you bully.” 

“What would you have me do – take her out here with us? These winter storms are unpredictable and volatile. We barely survived last winter, or don’t you remember?”

Toad, as he often does when confronted with any past or present near-death experience, lets out a laugh, unrestrained and weightless. He doesn’t offer Anther a response. His shoulders are relaxed as he takes the lead. Annoyed, Anther follows him.

“You’re never afraid, are you?” Anther asks, bracing himself against a biting wind.

Thunderous clouds loom above their heads, and in the distance, lightning strikes with violent red streaks. Amidst the chaos, flurries of ash tainted snow fall to the barren terrain. Anther isn’t sure what winters were like in the Old World. Only what he had learned from scavenged books; tales of winter wonderlands dressed in white.

“Why would I be?” Toad asks. “I don’t need to worry, Anther. You do that for everyone. Besides, with you here. I’ll be fine. You’d never let anything happen to any of us.”

Anther swallows Toad’s words. They stick in his chest, unable to be removed. He’s both touched by the younger boy’s faith in him and rattled by the gravity of it.

This is their sixth trip sneaking into the city. The last three expeditions had gone off without a hitch due to an underground passage he’d discovered. It’s when the two of them near the east side of the walls toward it that Anther’s pace slows; a dilemma has unfolded. Against the outer walls he spies her. A woman exiting their means of entrance.

Her face isn’t covered, the skin of her arms bare, an exposed unblemished ivory neck. Even a Scavenger wouldn’t be bold enough to brave the outside this uncovered. Terror blazes inside her eyes. A name escapes her lips with fervor. She repeats it, again and again, stumbling further into the Outer Lands.

“She looks like she needs help. What should we do?” Toad asks. “Her shouting is going to attract the city’s sentinels.”

Anther, torn between gaining supplies and veering off course, hesitates for a moment. She doesn’t carry the markings of mutations like they do. A privileged Inner City inhabitant from the looks of it. A dark inner voice clouds his thoughts. Why stick his neck out for someone who’s never known the curse he wears around it like a collar? Her kind would never do the same.

The darkened thoughts don’t last long before he’s after her. Partly because Toad’s right, if they don’t shut her mouth their plans to enter the city discreetly will fail.

The other part - a human who hasn’t evolved will never make it outside the city walls. The atmosphere will kill them in an hour, two at best, without a fresh supply of oxygen for them to breathe.

“She’s headed toward the river,” Toad says, after they follow her for a short distance. “Hopefully she has the sense to stay out of the water.”

Ahead of them, the terrain turns mountainous, and the woman disappears into its crevices. She’s still shouting for someone, her voice raw. “Let’s turn back,” Toad says, “No one is going to hear her this far out.”

Anther remains silent, only picking up his pace when he hears the woman scream. It’s through a narrow dirt path sandwiched between towering red rocks that he sees what’s happened. She’s calf deep in Oakley River and its blistering her legs.

“Why would you get in the water?” Anther hisses, closing the distance between them. Her face is contorted in pain even as she pushes him away furthering herself into the water. “Are you mad?” he asks.

“Anther,” Toad interrupts, "over there.” He points to a small figure on the other side of the riverbank. A boy, unconscious.

The woman fights violently against Anther’s grip. “Arif,” she cries. “Arif.”

Toad’s already on the move. His layers of clothes – a material with dual purpose, once for the weather, twice for the killer environment. He lifts the boy from the ground and finds Anther’s eyes. The boy’s blistered skin is mild compared to the woman’s. Upon further inspection it’s clear why. He has a single red ring encircling his neck. A scavenger. One who survives.

“How do you want to handle this?” Toad asks.

Anther’s mind races. No way the boy can go to the city. They’ll never let him inside the gates. They’ll have to take him to the sanctuary. As for the woman, does she have thirty minutes left? An hour?

“I’ll take the woman back to the city,” he says, as she continues to fight against him. Her knees buckle from the severity of the blisters, and he catches her. “You take the boy to Lofty. ”

“No, don’t take him from me!” she protests, voice panicked.

Anther studies her tear stained face. “You aren’t a Scavenger. You’ll die out here.”

“Oh,” she says, a crestfallen smile touches her lips. Anther can tell she’s starting to reach her limit. Has it been close to an hour? She quits struggling, resting against him. “I had hoped that part was a lie.”

A question burns Anther alive. “Why risk it?”

She looks at Anther, grey eyes churning like the violent skies above them. Her expression is one of fierce compassion. “He’s my brother. Was I supposed to let him fend for himself? Stupid boy,” she spits. “It’s my job to look after him. Not the other way around. I’ve seen the separation happen to other families,” she says, biting her lip. More tears spill down her cheeks. “He’s the only family I have. I'll hide him. I'll find a way to keep him safe. This wasn't supposed to happen to us.”

An understanding sweeps Anther as he realizes the situation. The boy must have fled for her sake. Harboring a Scavenger is grounds for criminalization. Her eyes flicker closed, and Anther shakes her. She’s unresponsive. He takes a gloved finger and forces her eyelid open. The whites of her eyes have already begun to turn yellow. Even if he sprinted, he wouldn’t make it in time to get her back to fresh air.

“She isn’t going to make it,” Anther says.

He ignores the tightness in his throat and takes his mask off. He slides it over her head. It won’t save her. At best, it will only buy time to get to the sanctuary.

“We are closer to the compound than we are the city. Let’s take them there,” he tells Toad.

The ground is slick with sleet from the sky, turning more dangerous with every step. It takes them longer to reach the dome building of the compound than Anther would have liked. There is a chance for the woman in his arms. A slim one. Of the many things he’s collected over the years, there’s an oxygen tank. To be honest, he only took it because he was fourteen at the time and it looked cool.

Lofty, a quick action kind of man, barks orders after assessing the mess the young men had brought home for him. He lays the two patients on cots as the unconscious boy begins stirring. Scavenger’s recover remarkably fast. The mild blisters on his legs have turned to a light rash.

Lofty removes the mask from the woman, checking for signs of life. The two hour window of survival for her has long passed. Anther digs through his things stashed away in the green house. Anger at himself rakes against his abdomen; he made the wrong call. The tank’s empty.

The boy grabs his sister’s face. He’s calling her name. Anther wants to rip his eyes away from the fear tainting every movement of the child’s body. She’s too far gone. Lost to the delirium of phagos.

Anther envisions the greying storms of her eyes sealed beneath closed lids, calming, then clearing. A human’s life is brief. This much is true for everyone. It doesn’t matter the blood that courses inside them. Shame on him for ever thinking differently. For seeing things from his narrow point of view. That, because of where someone is born, their life’s less difficult than his. Less ephemeral.

Lofty pulls the boy back by the shoulders but he shakes him off. He buries his head in his sister’s raven black hair, sobs racking his body, loud and violent. Solemn dark eyes watch him from the corner. Yara, once naïve to the dangers of the new world she lives in, ignorant no longer.

Somewhere above ground, the wind howls. A coldness overwhelms the outside. It matches the one inside the sanctuary. Anther wants to escape its icy touch, penetrating his chest, numbing his body. He wants to warm himself by a fire. One so all consuming, it burns away all that these ruined lands have to offer.

The sounds of coughing fill the sanctuary. Coughs, sandwiched between gasps of air, one savage choking inhale after the next. Alarmed, Anther looks for the source. The boys sister has rolled onto her side. Alive. Her breathing comes softer, easier, until she doesn’t have any trouble with it at all. Anther, perplexed, watches as she sits up and pulls her brother into her arms.

“I really had no way to test it for sure,” Lofty says, smiling wide. “The timing couldn’t have worked out better.”

“Test what?” Toad asks.

The old man has a crinkle in his eye. “Just what do you think I’ve been doing down here? These latest hybrid plants,” he says, emotion overtaking him. “They photosynthesize by absorbing phagos and releasing oxygen.” 

***

The afternoon has given way to the evening outside the sanctuary. Anthers mind wanders to the gifts they exchange inside the Inner City this time of year. Toad had told Anther what those early years were like. A custom carried over from the Old World. Anther had never experienced a gift exchange for himself. Unlike the others, he was born a child of the Outer Lands.

At least, that’s what he has told himself all these years. Looking back, he realizes he can’t count them all. The amount of gifts he’s received in a world he thought incapable of giving. Parents who had loved him relentlessly while they had the chance, friends who watch his back, the very breath inside his lungs, and now, hope for a brighter future.

Outside, he watches two young children playing in the snow. They’re dressed in protective suits. It isn’t perfect. The snow isn’t white or pretty. Dangers still lurk. Life’s like that. And yet— he thinks only of their lives ahead of them. He hopes to teach them something: How effortless it can be to feel trapped inside life's shadows; and even so, they must not be afraid to search for the light.