Tiny Bites Page 18

"Get the explosives!" cried one of the cannibals.

  Explosives?

  The rest of the group retreated, except the woman who had barely dodged the arrow. She scrunched her face, released an animalistic, high-pitched scream, and lunged for Dex, baring her teeth.

  With a loud crash, the fence gave way. Dozens of rotting wanderers crashed onto the ground, moaning and screeching. They struggled to lift themselves up, but got in each other's way.

  The woman ran toward Dex, her dirty, tangled hair flying behind her. Dex grabbed another arrow and aimed for her heart. She dodged to the side, avoiding it.

  Dex swore and reached for another, but she was almost on him. He slid his arm down and grasped the knife handle, instead. She crashed into him, still screaming.

  "Shut up," Dex exclaimed. "Unless you want the wanderers to pile on top of us."

  "This is for killing Coarsen." She squeezed Dex's wrist and glared at him. The whites of her eyes looked yellow. He couldn't tell if that was from the moonlight or if she was diseased, though he guessed the latter.

  He shoved her back and kicked her in the middle, forcing her closer to the monsters. Several reached for her, but missed, barely.

  Dex spun around and ran, not bothering to look back.

  The woman screamed, followed by the unmistakable sloshing noises of internal organs being ripped and consumed by the wanderers.

  He rounded the building and came face to face with five of the cannibals. Rather than fighting, he jumped toward the fence and climbed up. Dex stuck the knife handle into his mouth so he could grip the wiring better.

  The men screamed profanities at him and grasped his heels. He shook them off and flung himself over the fence. They continued hollering and climbed up, also.

  Dex reached for his bow and shot arrows, easily hitting the cannibals as they climbed. The first one fell to the ground, followed by the next one and the next, until all five lay piled on top of each other.

  Wanderers moaned as they raced for the men.

  None paid any attention to Dex.

  He'd survived another day.

  Coming in October 2017! Dex: the novel

  Terra Weaver

  I leaned against the immense machine, catching my breath. With any luck, I might have a chance to rest. I turned and traced the word "Terraqueous" with my finger. I'd worked for days without so much as a break.

  So was the life of a Terra Weaver.

  "Stella," came the harsh voice of my supervisor.

  Turning, I looked at her.

  "The status of Terra One-Thirty-Four?" She glared at me, moving her pointed glasses down the bridge of her nose.

  "The fabric is fixed."

  "And the zombies?"

  "Still terrorizing the poor inhabitants. They're banding together and starting to fight."

  She scribbled notes on her papyrus. "Poor inhabitants? You're still sympathizing with the residents? Fix the world's fabric and move on. Tsk, tsk."

  I bristled. "I know." She needn't remind me—my time in solitary spoke volumes she never could.

  "Terra Eighteen-Eleven had another major jump in technology. The threading of their fabric is in a dire condition."

  "The Terra called Earth?" I asked. "They're going to be my undoing. We need more weavers. As each Terra grows increasingly different, it grows harder to keep the fabrics intact."

  "Work harder. Off to Eighteen-Eleven." She spun around to chastise another Terraqueous Weaver.

  I took a deep breath and went around to the door of the machine. The orange light at the top lit up.

  "Eighteen-Eleven," I said.

  The door opened and I stepped inside before it closed with a loud slam. The digital reader ran through the numbers, starting at zero—where we were at the core of everything—until it reached the number for the Terra called Earth. Everything around me shook, as always.

  When everything became still, the robotic voice gave me the details needed to fix the Terra's fabric. New technology had been created to replace their electronic devices, making this Terra even more different from the others.

  Every change each Terra made, no matter how insignificant, pulled it from the others, tearing at its existence.

  The door opened. Bright light filled the dark machine, assaulting my eyes. It was the middle of the day in Eighteen-Eleven. I stepped outside, and then heard the whirring of the machine as it prepared to take another weaver between Terras.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying the fabric—invisible to the inhabitants, but painfully obvious to weavers. The normal color of the threading faded from green to red. It skipped yellow altogether. I hadn't seen that before.

  If it wasn't fixed and the fabric came undone, it would pull all neighboring Terras into it, causing a domino effect that would eventually destroy all life—in all Terras.

  No pressure.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead as I checked my tool belt. I pulled out a rank-shaft and tugged on a piece of thread. It glowed bright red, like molten lava. It wouldn't be long before everything unraveled.

  I took a deep breath, remembering the time this had happened with Terra One-Sixteen. That had been years ago, when vampires had taken over the Terra, nearly destroying humanity in the process. If I could fix that, I could fix this. I just had to hurry.

  Residents of Eighteen-Eleven ran around, not paying attention to me. I was invisible to most, but a select few could see weavers. The ones humans in most Terras thought were mentally unstable. In some Terras, those that could see us ruled the world. And that was the precise reason the worlds needed us. The worlds were all so vastly different, despite the fact each had started exactly the same at the same moment in time.

  What was one Terra's fantasy was now another's reality.

  I dug into my tool belt again. Just as I'd wrapped my hand around the thread-winder, I heard a familiar voice screaming in the distance. It was Robyn Noland—the very girl I'd helped before being sentenced to solitary.

  "We aren't supposed to interfere with the Terras," I told myself, gripping the thread-winder so tightly my hand hurt. I reached into the threads and fixed the section that glowed the brightest.

  Robyn screamed again, her tone indicating terror.

  My heart jumped into my throat. I'd saved her life when she was a child. How could I ignore her now? Surely, the Terra could hold itself together a few more minutes. I stuffed the tool back into my belt and ran toward the sound. I kicked my feet up into the air and flew, allowing for the fastest possible travel.

  I came to a bridge. Robyn was climbing the railing, nearly at the top. Her pained screams continued. I raced toward her before she could jump into the water rushing so far below.

  My eyes narrowed, staying focused on her feet. They now balanced on the railing as Robyn wobbled back and forth.

  She stepped into the air, and I flew forward, pulse on fire. Robyn fell at a speed that seemed both fast and slow motion at the same time. I pushed through the Terra's atmosphere, harming the fabric even further. I saw more green threads turn red.

  I reached Robyn, grabbed her around the waist, and took her to the shore. We fell and rolled in the sand. After standing, she stared at me, confused. She could see me because we'd met when she was young.

  "Do I know you? Why do you look familiar?" she demanded. Whenever humans have the deja-vu feeling, it's from seeing a Terra Weaver. Their minds aren't built to comprehend us, so they forget, but can't really.

  Robyn shook her head. "I don't care. Why'd you do that? I needed to save Jack. I had to save him." She slunk to the ground, sobbing.

  My supervisor appeared. "What have you done, Stella? Jack was supposed to save the Terra from its technology. Now he's at the bottom of the ocean."

  Behind her, the threads exploded in a show of bright red. I gasped. Then everything turned black.

  ***

  Terra Weaver is part of the Shutter Step collection. If you enjoyed this story, check it out for free at most online retailers.

  Missing Ivy


  From the World of The Dream Engine (Engine World)

  Also part of the Beyond the Gate collection

  Christoph Anders stepped out of the wagon into the hot sun and stretched his sore, aching body. He looked around, ignoring the enormous Solstice Festival taking up most of his view. He felt small in comparison. He wasn't concerned with that, though. Christoph was eager to see Ivy Musgrove. For the last three years, they had met there, at the edge of the grounds, at this side of Waldron's Gate.

  Had his caravan arrived early this year? Was Ivy still getting ready? She knew his family always arrived opening morning.

  "Maybe she found someone else, Brother." Jackson teased, shoving him in the shoulder. He ran off toward the entrance, laughing.

  "Funny!" Except Christoph wasn't laughing. He walked around the wagons, holding his hand above his eyes to block the sun. Where was Ivy? He didn't dare go to the festival yet. There was no way he would find her among the crowd.

  He watched as his cousins, aunts, and uncles migrated from their temporary camp to the tents and rides. Finally, he leaned against the wagon belonging to his parents. His mom came over. "Don't worry, my boy. I'm sure she's just taking extra time to beautify herself. Women are like that, you know."

  Christoph dusted some dirt from her face, trying to smile. "Of course, Mom."

  "Come on, Marjorie," his dad called. "We've got to get to our tent. Time to tell some fortunes."

  She looked at Christoph. "Wanna come with us, Son?"

  "Go on ahead. I'm going to stay and wait for Ivy."

  His mom kissed him on the forehead and then ran to catch up with her husband. Her wide, traditional gypsy skirt brushed against the dirt as she ran. It was a good thing they typically wore shades of brown, as they were always getting dirty and rarely had a chance to clean their clothes.

  The minutes passed and Christoph made his way to the horses, patting one on the head. It whinnied, loving his attention. He whispered to her, keeping his attention on the edge of the festival. It wasn't like Ivy to be late. They only got to spend a few short days together each year, and every moment counted.

  He knew Jackson was wrong. She hadn't found someone else. They were in love, and now that Ivy was finally old enough to make her own decisions, she was going to be with him year round. The plan was to introduce him to her family since she had kept their love a secret. Then she would either travel back to Yon with Christoph or he would stay in Waldron's Gate. He would need to clean up and buy a new wardrobe, of course.

  They both knew that it was far more likely that she would wind up traveling with him. But there was a chance that her parents wouldn't want her to leave them, so they might agree to their high-class daughter taking in a gypsy. Ivy always told stories of her mother taking in stray animals and cleaning them up. Christoph might make such a project.

  He watched as a boy chased a girl out of the festival's entrance and then back inside. Christoph couldn't help but remember back to the day he had met Ivy.

  Christoph had been getting ready for lunch and heard a strange noise near the ground. He looked down and saw a beautiful blonde hiding underneath a table behind a tent. Her wide, colorful dress barely stayed under the table.

  "What are you—?"

  "Shh!" she hissed, putting a finger in front of her mouth.

  Christoph noticed dried tears on her face. He bent down. "Are you all right, miss?"

  She shook her head and then looked around him. Her face was terror-stricken.

  He squeezed under the table next to her, pulling the tent flap in front of the table. "I'll protect you. Can I help you with something?"

  She gave him a look of distrust. What else did he expect? She didn't know him. "I'm hiding from Alastair, one of my neighbors. He tried to kiss me, and when I screamed, he held me tighter. I ripped my dress getting away from him." She showed him a long rip going up from the bottom seam to nearly her hip.

  "Alastair?" Christoph asked. "What does he look like? I'll put him in his place."

  Her eyes widened. "You would do that? You don't even know me. Or him—he's huge."

  "I've taken down guys thrice my size. What's your name? I need to know whose honor I'm defending."

  The gorgeous blue eyes softened. "I'm Ivy Musgrove."

  Christoph held out his hand, and she placed hers in his. "Wonderful to meet you, Ivy Musgrove. I'm Christoph Anders, and it's my pleasure to stick up for you today. What does the enormous Alastair look like?"

  Ivy described him, and then Christoph backed out from under the table and stood tall. "Stay there, m'lady and I shall return when order has been restored to the land." He bowed.

  She smiled wide, and for the first time, Christoph felt like a hero. He motioned for her to lower the tent so she could hide, and then he turned around and looked around the crowd. Finding Alastair was easy. He was exactly as she had described down to the elegant clothes, and he had a crowd of kids eating up whatever foolery came from his mouth.

  Christoph took a deep breath and pictured Ivy's sweet face and ripped dress. He stood taller than he already was and made his way to the arrogant young man. "Are you Alastair? The one who upset Ivy Musgrove?"

  "Upset her? She's the one who upset me."

  "Why? What did she do to you?" Christoph narrowed his eyes, stepping closer.

  "She's enamored by me and tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, but still she wouldn't take no for an answer."

  Anger flared up in Christoph's chest. "First, you take advantage of her, and now you're telling a tale in front of your friends. You wanna know what I think?"

  "Not really." Alastair waved him off, and started to turn away.

  Christoph balled up his fist and punched Alastair directly in the nose. He flew backward, appearing in slow motion. Blood flew from his nostrils.

  Gasps could be heard all around. A couple larger guys ran up to Christoph, fists held up.

  Alastair steadied himself and glared at Christoph. "You have no idea what you've just done."

  "No," Christoph said. "You have no idea what you just did."

  "What's going on, Brother?" Jackson appeared next to Christoph along with several of their cousins.

  "This jerk is spreading lies about a sweet girl." Christoph turned to Alastair. "Would you like to tell everyone the truth about what happened to Ivy? Or would you rather fight us?"

  Alastair stared at Christoph and his relatives. His bloody nose flared. "Fine. I kissed her, and she wouldn't kiss me back. So I showed her who's in charge."

  Christoph stepped closer to him. "And you're going to stay away from her from now on, aren't you?"

  "I don't want anything to do with her," Alastair said, backing up.

  "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Christoph gave a quick thanks to Jackson before running back to Ivy. Before he got to the table where she had been hiding, he saw her behind a large tree.

  She looked at him with an expression that he couldn't read.

  Christoph walked to her. "Alastair should leave you alone. He told everyone that—"

  Ivy threw herself against him, pushing her soft lips on his. "Thank you, Christoph Anders. No one has ever stood up for me before."

  He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the tingling sensation moving from his lips down to his stomach. His heart felt like it grew eight times the normal size. "My pleasure."

  She grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let me buy you something to eat." She pulled him down a path.

  The horse whinnied next to Christoph, bringing him back to the present.

  Looking up at the sun and seeing how much time had passed, he knew that something had to be wrong. Ivy wouldn't have been that late—not on purpose, anyway. He stroked the horse's mane one more time and then headed for the entrance. If Ivy did come to look for him, she would at least see their camp set up and figure that he was at his family's fortune-telling tent.

  Upon entering, he took in the crowd. People of all classes from all over Alterra intermingled. Some of the more nice
ly dressed people eyed him, and he heard whispers to watch out for the pickpocket. He was used to it—there were more than enough gypsies out there who were genuine pickpockets—but he and his family were not those kinds of travelers.

  If their distant relatives had secured the family tent, they would trade off with telling fortunes—making a small fortune. They had a gift for reading people. Not so much the actual future, but saying what people wanted to hear or to make an educated guess as to the direction of their lives. If it sounded believable, patrons walked away happy.

  Christoph looked around, both near and far for anyone who knew Ivy. As it stood, he couldn't find any. But then again, they weren't as likely to be so close to the outskirts of the festival. They would be at the end closer to town and the big, white-smoking machine.

  His eyes rested on it, watching the clean, happy puffs of smoke go from the magnificent Blunderbuss machine into the air, as the cogs and other parts of machinery moved in tune with each other. He wished he could see into the past, to find out if its rumors were true. Had it really always been here, creating magic?

  Shaking his head, he focused. He wasn't there to think about that.

  Someone bumped into him, forcing him inside a tent. As Christoph caught his balance, he noticed a fairly young man with an oddly pointed nose. The strange-looking fellow sat on a mat. He smiled wide, showing more teeth than a smile should. "Did you come to see the Great Gandini?"

  Christoph raised an eyebrow. "If you're so great, why have I never heard of you?"

  Gandini cackled what was probably supposed to be a laugh. "Five ritterns, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

  "That's robbery, my friend. I'm better off asking my relatives for direction."

  "So you are a gypsy. I thought so. What's the harm? My kind can see things yours can't."

  Christoph narrowed his eyes. "Like what, exactly?"

  "The ritterns." Gandini held out his long, narrow fingers.

  "I may as well throw them into the Fog." Christoph dug into his pockets and pulled out five ritterns. He dropped them into the skinny hand one by one. "All right, great one, what can you see?"