All Together

It rained that night.  I watched the storm instead of sleeping.  Sleeping didn't seem to be an option for me.  I remembered storms like these from my childhood.  Ones where the rain just keeps coming, the wind bursting through and making it fall at a diagonal, lightning flashing somewhere in the distance.  Greg used to call storms like these "good storms".  They made him feel better, apparently.  When we were little he would drag me out into the storm with him.  We would run around, laughing, dancing, just having fun in the middle of a thunderstorm.  Before we knew Greg had caused the storm mother would worry.  She was afraid the lightning would hit us and she would lose her two sons.  Lightning never did strike us.  I think Greg had enough control, even when he was a kid, to keep the lightning from hitting us.

After growing up with a guy who could control weather it was hard to see a storm as something random.  I wanted to believe that Greg was around here somewhere, dancing about and creating this storm, laughing his head off as the weather heeded every one of his movements.  It wasn't true.  Greg was in the Eugene Region, I could tell by the area code of his phone number.  We weren't in the Eugene Region.  There weren't any mountains in Eugene.  It was all supposed to be flat land and farms.

When watching the rain became too much I shifted my gaze to Shazzi and Rowan.  Rowan couldn't sleep easily; he kept stirring and turning onto his side to cough.  Shazzi jumped at every little movement of his.  I'm pretty sure she was worried that if she didn't keep track of him he'd die.  Thankfully, Rowan wasn't purging anything from his system.  Maybe it was because there was nothing left to throw up.  Maybe I should have been more worried now that he couldn't throw up.  Shazzi looked worried.  She kept combing her black hands through Rowan's hair.  Her tail was curled around one of Rowan's wrists.  I'm not sure what that meant, or if that was normal for neshtan's, but it seemed to calm down Rowan.  As long as he was all right for the moment that was enough for us.  I guess.

I watched the sunrise the next morning.  It was hard to look at, but I forced myself to look at the sun.  After being underground for so long, so much shorter in comparison to Rowan and Shazzi, the sunrise was gorgeous.  The sky turned from dark blue to dingy purple, layered with soft reds and oranges before it became yellow as it framed the bright sun.  I never really watched sunrises or sunsets.  Greg did that more than I.  Sometimes I'd find him on the roof, lying down on the shingles, smiling up at the sky.

"What do you think you're doing?!  You're going to get hurt!"  I'd shout, terrified Greg would fall and break something.

"Come up here, Isaac!"  He'd grin, a tooth missing or his cheeks dirty, already sun-burnt, "You'll like it!"

"Get down before mom sees you!"  I was more afraid of being blamed for Greg's injuries than anything else; I was always selfish.

I never went up to the roof with him.  Right then, I promised myself that if I made it to a building with a roof I would watch the sunset and sunrise from that roof.  I'd finally get to see what made Greg smile all those mornings when we were kids.

Shazzi and Rowan finally stirred.  Rowan was coughing, his arms wrapped around Shazzi's waist.  The neshtan was sitting against the wall, her tail resting on Rowan's back.  Rowan kept trying to hold in his coughs, to appear healthier than we knew he was.  He needed food and rest, but we couldn't get either while we ran for our lives.  Running might kill him.  Yesterday Shazzi and I carried him.  We probably would end up carrying him again today, but spirits damn me, I wasn't going to complain.  I never really had friends.  There were people I knew, people I liked, people I fucking loathed, but never really friends.  Rowan and Shazzi now qualified as friends to me.  When you escape from prison with a couple of people they have to be your friends, right?  That was how it worked?  I mean, not everyone escapes from prison and their fellow escapees are friends but I mean—I'm confused.

I don't really know what its like to actually care about people.  I cared about Nora but that got thrown back in my face.  I cared about Greg and then forced him out of my life because I didn't trust him.  I was bitter at everyone and everything and it didn't help me.  So maybe, I guess, if I made some friends and actually trusted some people I'd be…better.

That was why I had to keep Rowan alive.

Once the sun was above the horizon line I woke Shazzi and Rowan properly.  And by properly, I mean I nudged them with my dirty toes until they actually opened their eyes.  Rowan's eyes were still completely black.  It was impossible to tell what he was looking at or focusing on.  I didn't know how much he could see…but I knew he had some sense of vision left.  Some vision was better than none.

"Get up.  We need to get moving.  The Black Dogs have to be looking for us at this point," I explained hollowly.

Shazzi grumbled, probably sore from the odd position she slept in, but nodded and helped Rowan up.  For the moment it seemed he could stand.  He wobbled and swayed in place, but that was better than having to drag him.  Though we'd probably end up dragging him before long.

"Where to?"  Shazzi asked, stretching her sore muscles.

"Pick a direction, head that way."

"That's not much of a plan," she frowned.

"It's better than sitting here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for the Black Dogs," I snapped.

Shazzi growled as I snapped at her.  I hesitated and turned away, rubbing my dry eyes.

"_Sorry.  Look, let's just go.  Maybe there's a town or a city or something nearby…  We won't last long without food.  And unless one of you knows about edible plants…?"

Both Shazzi and Rowan shook their heads.  No, of course not.  We just had to hope that the Apocrypha wasn't completely secluded in the mountains.  The guards had to live somewhere, right?  They couldn't all live just in the prison.  There…there had to be somewhere around here.  Or we really had no chance.

So we wandered.  The forest was rather bare of life.  I guess nothing felt like returning since that earthquake yesterday.  There were birds, I could hear them, and there were bugs too, but I couldn't see anything bigger or furrier.  There were no squirrels or chipmunks or raccoons or anything else I expected in a forest like this.  Maybe I thought there would be deer just standing around, like in children's books, but there wasn't anything like that.  If there was a deer we could kill it, but I don't really know if I can make a fire right now, and the idea of gutting an animal with my hands…  I mean, I know I murdered two men yesterday but I didn't go bathing in their blood or tearing out their intestines and a sudden sickness was washing over me as I thought of killing something else.  I so easily changed from being a good man to a murderer.  Two men were dead and rotting because of me.  Those men might have had families.  But they were guarding us prisoners.  And the one who was going to kill Rowan had been advancing on Shazzi.  He couldn't have been a good person.  I didn't kill two good men.  They were monsters and I was justified in killing them.  I would not feel remorse over them.  I just felt…disquieted over how easily I turned to murder.  My vision strayed to Shazzi and Rowan behind me.  They were walking quietly, holding hands like teenagers.  I wouldn't just kill them.  I…I would only kill in defense.  I wasn't a murderer, not a maniac.  It was to protect.

"Isaac…?"  Rowan prompted.

My hands were balled into fists at my sides.  I darted my gaze over to the ground in front of me.  I didn't want to talk because I could accidentally spill how I felt.  They didn't know that I was having a crisis of character.  I wasn't a murderer.  Killing in self-defense or defense of others was justified.  I saved both Rowan and Shazzi by killing those men.  Spirits why did I feel so sick all of a sudden?

"You alright?"  He sounded worried.

Don't reach out for me right now, Rowan.  You won't want to know what's going through my head.  I nodded a couple of times.
"Yeah, yeah.  Peachy.  Don't worry about me right now.  Let's just find someplace to…to be or something.  Just keep walking."

So we kept walking.  Halfway through the day Shazzi and I ended up dragging Rowan.  He was doing the best he could, we both knew that, it was just that his best wasn't really that good.  I think he needed water or food or both but we had none.  We also had no means of purifying water or cooking.  When night fell we couldn't find another cave.  We slept out in the grass, around some small trees.  It was a lot colder without a cave, but thankfully it didn't rain.

The next two days were much the same.  Wandering, hungry, Rowan sickly, Shazzi and I carrying him, searching for animals that weren't there, wondering if dying in the cave-in might have been better.  Then we happened upon a small town built at a slant on the mountain.  We couldn't go in as we were, no matter how excited we were to see a city.  Shazzi and I spotted a small house a bit more secluded than others on the outskirts.  It had a laundry line hung full of freshly laundered clothes.  Stealing was wrong, but we needed it.  Rowan didn't like that we stole the clothing.

"We don't have any choice," Shazzi said, helping him into a pale blue button down shirt.

"This…it's not fair to those people…" Rowan argued weakly.

"We didn't take everything," I said, pulling on a pair of dusty jeans.  "Just a few things.  But we can't walk into town in those," I pointed to our discarded grey prison uniforms.

Rowan still frowned.  Shazzi pulled his head towards her lips and she kissed his cheek.  A little weak whimper eased out of him and he sort of smiled.  It was nice that Shazzi could shut Rowan up like that.  She had a dark green summer dress on, with a black sweater pulled over her arms, just in case the people we stole from were in town.  We hoped that they weren't in town.  In hopes of not running into the people we stole clothes from, we skirted the edges of town and slipped in through the west side.  After wandering the streets for an hour we found a small inn.

"How do you suppose we get a room?"  Rowan said dizzily, looking sick from walking too much since Shazzi and I didn't carry him while we were in town.

"We could sell the guns," Shazzi offered.

"No.  Until the…uh…medicine wears off the guns are our only protection.  Besides, small town like this?  Everyone has a gun.  We won't stand out with them," I explained.

Shazzi didn't exactly agree, but she didn't argue with me.  I was being logical and it seemed that logic managed to keep her quiet.  Not that I never wanted her to talk, but right now we had to just live, and we wouldn't be able to live if we kept arguing.  With a shrug of her shoulders she dropped the idea.

"So how do we get a room?"  Rowan asked again.

"Let me go in and talk to the owners.  I've got an idea."

Shazzi and Rowan sat on the front porch.  Rowan was drenched in sweat and wearing Shazzi's black sweater at this point.  The hood was pulled over his head to hide his black eyes.  Not many people knew about blackweed or its uses against magicians, but we had to be careful.

I walked into the inn.  It was cozy, with a warm fireplace on one side, plush old couches, and an older woman behind the desk.  The inn was small, it maybe had ten rooms, a dining room in the back, and the owners probably lived here.

"Hello son," the older woman behind the desk said with a smile.

She smiled like my mother, but didn't look much like her (thankfully).  My mother had curly hair, like Greg and I, but it had silver streaks in it now.  This woman had straight white hair, pulled back in a tight bun.  She was maybe 70, looking quite healthy for her age.

"Hello ma'am," I said softly, bowing my head as I came over to the desk.

"Need a place for the night?"

"Yes ma'am," I was raised to always be polite, "my friends outside too."

"All together?"

"We'd like that.  But…we don't have any money.  We got robbed when we were traveling here.  I'm not going to ask you for a hand out.  I'll work for our keep.  One of my friends is a bit battered from the encounter, he can't do much.  But I can work.  I'll do anything you need ma'am," I explained.  "We won't stay long.  I promise."

The old woman screwed her face as she examined me.  I wasn't that bad off, not like Rowan.  My body had always been better than Rowan's.  I still had meat on my bones, I still had muscle, I was a bit rough around the edges but I was useful.  The old lady looked nice enough.  I needed her to pity Rowan, Shazzi, and I.  I tried very hard not to look painfully pathetic, but I probably did.

"You best not be lying to me," she said carefully.

"I swear on my soul and ancestral spirits I'm not."

Big swear, that one.  Not many people pulled their ancestors into hollow oaths.  I'm pretty sure my ancestors were none-to-pleased with that one.  But, that seemed to be enough for her.  The old lady nodded and pushed her sign-in book towards my dirty hands.

"Sign in your name.  I'll need your help cooking for the guests and serving the meal and then cleaning the dishes.  Neither of your friends can help?"

"Maybe," I said penning my name as Isaiah Silvers instead of Isaac Lockeheed.

The old woman nodded.  When I handed her the pen back she handed me a key.

"Go get your friends Mr. Silvers," she said with a slight smile, "and I expect you downstairs at six to help."

"Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am," I bowed my head and slipped outside.

Rowan was looking sleepy, sitting on the porch.  Shazzi was standing over him, watching him like some mother hen.  I held up a key to them both.  Rowan frowned slightly.

"How did…" he was cut off by a fit of coughs.

"I told her I'd work for her.  Shazzi, it'd be good if you helped."

"Of course," she nodded.

I told them both my pseudonym.  We changed Rowan to Rory and Shazzi to Shishi.  It would have to do.  They weren't names any of us liked, but they would keep our identities hidden for the moment.  We probably would never be able to use our real names outside of private conversation with each other.

And just like that we slipped inside the inn.  Shazzi and I put Rowan in the room to rest and at six we went to help the old woman.  She was surprised to see a neshtan like Shazzi, and said that there weren't many neshtan here.  She also said Shazzi was pretty.  Shazzi took the compliment graciously and went to work chopping vegetables for a soup.  The old woman asked where we were from, I said Eugene.  She said we were far from home and asked why we were here.  Shazzi explained that we were three best friends since childhood and wanted to go exploring.  It worked; the old lady didn't ask much else.

After dinner and cleaning the dishes and dinning room the three of us came to the only conclusion we could: this was going to be the rest of our lives.  We were going to be vagabonds forever now, moving from city to city, doing odd jobs for our keep while there.  Maybe we would be able to make some real money, maybe we would constantly have to work for our keep, but it was our only options.  Our lives were forfeit the second we were placed in the Apocrypha.

"What about me?"  Rowan said, his voice less hoarse now that there was vegetable soup, bread, and water in his belly.

"When you recover you work too," I shrugged.

"When?"  He laughed.

"You will," Shazzi said, lacing her fingers with Rowan's.

He looked like he didn't believe her and did at the same time.  I managed a half smile and shook his shoulder.

"With cooking like that you'll definitely be better soon," I chuckled.

Rowan laughed, so did Shazzi.

Spirits did we make a funny looking family.  Not that we were, you know, a family.  But we were pretty close, or at least I thought so.  I didn't tell them that, that might make everything awkward.  But still, we kinda were a family, sort of.  We were all each other had at this point.  Our real families couldn't know we were alive.  There was no way we could, or should, contact them.  So it was just us three.  Just us three against the world.