Date: Fri, 1 Nov 2019 19:41:33 -0400 From: Purple Jubliee Subject: After Earth Went Dark; Part III: Chapter 1 Hey everyone! We're back again with Part III. It's been a long time coming so thanks for your patience! I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think, or if you'd like to be added to my mailing list at purplejubilee17@gmail.com. A special thank you to my patrons, Dan, Quenton, Dave, and Chris for supporting me on Patreon. (patreon.com/purplejubilee) They're a big help in allowing me to write these stories! And as always thank you to Nifty for hosting! They can't do it without donations though so please consider supporting them. Thanks for reading! <3 PurpleJubilee After Earth Went Dark: Part III Chapter 1 The boy tried to hold his breath as he hid in a dark corner of the dilapidated barn. His heart hammered in his chest and he gripped his little knife tightly. He could hear the sound of his pursuer stumbling around the barn and could see the lantern that the man carried getting ever closer. The small bag of goods he had managed to scavenge from the abandoned farmhouse was not worth dying for. There was no way they could have known that a New State patrol would just happen by while they were making their escape though. He guessed he should count himself lucky that only one of them had chased after him. Even so, here he was cornered. From the stories he had heard, he would be lucky if the man just killed him. Being a prisoner to the New State was supposedly far worse than dying. He felt tears forming in his eyes. The militiaman stepped around the corner of the stall that the boy hid in, but for some reason, he turned and faced the other direction. This was his opening. The knife felt heavy in his sweaty hand. This was his chance. The man was distracted. All he had to do was cut his throat from behind. He had been trained for this... He waited too long. The man swung back around, and the boy found himself face to face with the grizzly middle-aged man holding a sawed-off shotgun. The man's stubbly face cracked a crooked-toothed grin as he saw the young boy cowering before him. "Knew I'd find you eventu... hllkk!" A knife slid deftly across the man's throat from behind, opening a wide gash and spraying the boy with blood. The boy looked away as the blood poured from the wound and the man's life slipped away. As he collapsed, the boy was relieved to see that it was the leader of their scavenging mission that had saved him. That strange and quiet long-haired boy that was always with Captain Marcel's chief strategist. Elliot, the boy was pretty sure that was his name. He was covered in splattered blood, and not all of it was from the man he had just killed. Some of it was already drying. The boy guessed that the other members of the New State patrol had met a similar fate. "Don't ever hesitate." Elliot reprimanded in a low voice. Even though Elliot was a few years younger than him, the boy found him almost as intimidating as the tall and silent strategist that went only by `Tyr'. "Wh... what about Randal?" The boy asked, referring to the third member of their scavenging party. Elliot sucked in a breath and wiped his forehead, leaving a trail of blood from the back of his hand, then shook his head slowly. "We need to get back before they send more." He knelt down next to the body and quickly relieved the dead man of his weapon, his lantern, and anything else useful he was carrying. The boy noticed that Elliot had his own pack as well as Randal's, and another one that presumably came from one of the New State men. He knew that time was short, and they couldn't afford to leave behind anything that might help them, but the thorough and practiced way Elliot looted the body unsettled him. Elliot handed him one of the packs and motioned with his head for him to follow, then set a quick pace, moving swiftly and silently towards the cover of the woods. After a few miles, Elliot had doused the lantern and announced that they would rest there for the night. He could see that the boy, Brandon was his name, had wanted to protest but couldn't come up with the right words. Claiming that he needed to wash the blood off, Elliot had slipped away from their hastily established campsite to find a small pond or stream. It hadn't been a lie, he did need to clean himself up, but he also needed to be alone. When he was sure that Brandon could not see or hear him, Elliot fell to his knees and broke down crying. He had killed three men that night, and it never got any easier. Randal had been a man in his late twenties or early thirties that had come from the same town as Brandon. He was a bit strange, and altogether not the most likable of people, but he had not deserved to die. One of the militiamen had clubbed him brutally with a metal bat and nearly caved in his skull. It had given Elliot the opening he needed to cut the man's legs from under him and then end him. Personally, Elliot had not wanted to stop for the night either. He wanted nothing more than to continue on until they reached the camp so that Tyr could hold him tightly and promise that it was all going to be alright. It was not a smart idea though. Traveling through the mountains in darkness was highly dangerous. They would need a lantern or torch, and that would make them easy to pick out from far away. Elliot hated the idea of spending the night on the cold ground alone with only Brandon nearby. He knew that the slightly older boy looked to him for guidance and protection, but Elliot was at least as terrified as he was. He had just become better at hiding it. Finding a stream to wash in was not difficult. The snow was melting off and the ground was thawing, making rivers and their tributaries run high. It had been a very difficult winter in the mountains for the band of resistance fighters. Supplies had run thin and the stronger members had often gone days at a time without food. Even with these sacrifices though, the harsh temperatures and malnourishment claimed a good many lives. Morale had nearly been broken. There had been talk among the ranks of running back and throwing themselves on the mercy of the New State. Anything had to be better than starving to death in the mountains. But then Ida had returned. Ida had left them at the onset of winter with a small group to try and spread their rebellion to another small town in New State territory. It had taken time, but it had paid off, and when this farming community joined them, they had brought along wagonloads of grain and even dried meats. It had saved the cause and swelled their numbers by almost double. Many of the newcomers had hunting and farming experience as well. The land in the mountains was not as fertile as down in the lowlands, but several of the old-timers confirmed that with some hard work and a little luck they could sow a sizable crop in the springtime. This was the batch that Brandon and Randal had come in with. There had been one more after them, a much smaller group that showed up only a day or two before Elliot had left with the two for his first scavenging mission. Many of the original members of the traveling theater had gained a small amount of fame among the newcomers. They were seen as experts of espionage and guerilla warfare, even though most of them had very little experience with it. Marcel and Ida were treated like celebrities around the camp. Ida for her poise and grace, and Marcel for his dripping charisma and enthusiasm. Tyr and Elliot though, were treated differently. It was obvious to Elliot that people were a little bit afraid of Tyr. It was a feeling he could understand. He could still remember feeling warry of the quiet warrior himself. The thing that surprised him though was that some of that fear seemed to extend to him. Conversations would cease when he walked by, and people tended to give him a wide berth. Not in a disrespectful way, quite the contrary, whenever he helped Tyr with the daily trainings, people listened to him and followed what he said without question. It was a strange phenomenon that Elliot was unaccustomed to and at times made him uncomfortable. Tyr assured him it was totally normal for people to look up to him. That didn't help Elliot to understand it any better. While Tyr's stoic silence came off as pensive and deep, Elliot thought that his own quiet nature would only be viewed for what it was; awkward shyness. Yet time and again, Elliot found himself being treated with only a slightly lesser degree of the awe and respect that Tyr got. Rumors abounded in the camp about the `inner circle' as some had taken to calling them. This referred to Marcel, Ida, Tyr, Elliot, Jay, and Carlos. There were several other members of the original troupe, but they had ingrained themselves more with the newcomers and taken on lesser leadership roles. Elliot would sometimes sit just out of sight and listen to the wild stories told about Tyr and Marcel, and even about himself. His favorite story was that he and Tyr were brothers who had lived in the mountains long before the world changed. That they had survived only on what they could hunt. Some even would go so far as to suggest that they had been raised by wolves or other equally silly theories. Despite the farfetched nature of these stories, it was sometimes difficult to not let it go to his head. Elliot was not prone to attention-seeking and did not crave a spotlight, but now that one was on him, it was sometimes easy to get caught up in it. The night passed quietly enough, although Elliot could practically hear Brandon shivering on the partially thawed ground. The furs they had brought would keep him warm enough, Elliot knew, but it could be uncomfortable if one wasn't accustomed to it. Elliot slept very little. If he was honest with himself, he didn't quite trust Brandon to keep watch properly during his shift. He would have much preferred to go scavenging with more experienced people, but Brandon and Randal had been the best they could do. Tyr had wanted to come with him, but they both knew that he could not be spared his duties at the camp. With the first rays of the sun, as soon as it was bright enough to continue safely, Elliot nudged Brandon awake gently. The boy awoke startled, his dirty-blonde hair a tangled mess in front of his eyes, his hand groping awkwardly for a weapon. Elliot offered him a shy but reassuring smile, even though he knew the reaction would have been much too slow if there had been anything amiss. They continued up the mountain in silence. Elliot didn't know how close Brandon had been to Randal, but he suspected not very given the boy's shocked but not distraught demeanor. He wondered if anyone had been truly close to the man. If anyone would even miss him. That thought made him sad. Elliot clocked the sentry well before the patrol saw them coming. He sighed. Granted, he had known there was a sentry, but still this meant there was a lot of training to do yet. The man challenged them briefly but must have recognized Elliot because he immediately mumbled an apology and allowed them to go on their way. The air was cooler up here, and there were still patches of snow on the ground that made the last part of the climb treacherous. Before long though, they reached the edge of the camp. It was an impressive sight. Orderly rows of tents made up of a patchwork of tarps and cloth were nestled into the side of the mountain. The sheer cliff face behind them had warded off the worst of the elements during the winter. They had even built some small and primitive bunkhouses for the very young or very old as well as those that fell ill. They made their way to the central hub of the camp, a large open tent that was where much of the activity took place. Marcel or Ida would often be at the central tent, answering questions or giving out direction. Elliot shrugged off the extra pack he was carrying and handed it to Brandon. "Take these to the supply tent to get sorted." He instructed. "Good job out there." Although Elliot spoke the words, he wasn't sure why. Brandon had served mainly as a packhorse and not been too much help. Maybe, Elliot thought, just not getting either of them killed was enough. Elliot kept ahold of the spare weapons he had looted as he made his way through the crowded camp. Tyr and Carlos had taken to storing and distributing extra weapons as needed, but it was done separately from the rest of the supplies, closer to the training ground. He scanned the central tent for Marcel or Ida but did not see them, so he continued toward the training ground where he expected to find Tyr. Instead, Carlos was manning the training ground, in the middle of teaching an archery session to a group of newer recruits with handmade bows and arrows. This was one thing they had plenty of. Tyr and Ida had taught a number of craftsmen how to make simple but effective bows. In a relatively short time, they had managed to produce several hundred of them, and Carlos, Tyr, and Ida were often busy instructing the recruits in their use. Carlos gave Elliot a nod when he saw him approach and instructed his group to keep practicing. "Good to see you back." The man greeted. "I see you found some weapons." Elliot grimaced. "Well, we didn't actually `find' them." A worried look crossed Carlos' face. "Trouble?" Elliot shrugged. "I don't think so. Just a small patrol. We lost one, but they won't be following us." Carlos nodded grimly. "Well done, kid. Go find Tyr. He was surveying the fields to get them ready for planting I think." Elliot handed off the extra weapons he carried and hurried on his way. The fields were a bit of a walk from the training ground and Elliot had to walk through most of the camp to get there. He had learned to never just walk straight through but to always take the time to inspect things as he passed; making sure tents were standing secure, fires were not using too much wood, and that people weren't in need. Some distance off he spotted Jay standing with a group of younger people from the first town they had liberated, including Eric and Corey. Jay had become fairly close with that group over the winter. Elliot sometimes wondered if it was close enough to make Marcel jealous, but he never asked. He decided not to bother Jay right then, he would catch up with his friend later that evening. For now, there was only one person he wanted to see. The fields were fairly populated during the daytime. Even though the soil was not ready for tilling yet, people were given the task of removing rocks from the ground as the earth softened. This was no small feat on a field on the side of a mountain, and one of the old farmers joked that if their seeds did not sprout then at least they would have a fresh crop of rocks by the end of the season. It took Elliot a moment to find Tyr among the group in the field. His tall guardian was as handsome as ever, even covered as he was almost head to toe in mud. Tyr had obviously been helping to dig up some of the larger and more stubborn chunks of rock. When he saw Elliot, his lips tightened into a subtle smile that Elliot knew from experience was Tyr's equivalent of a broad grin. Leaving the rest of the able-bodied recruits to the task, Tyr trudged across the muddy field to greet Elliot. He put a gentle hand on the small boy's shoulder, leaving a trail of mud. Despite the grime, Elliot wished he could throw himself at Tyr in a tight hug. They were not open about their feelings for each other though, and Tyr rarely displayed affection in public. Elliot didn't know why it mattered. He didn't think anyone would care about their relationship these days with things as crazy as they were. Sometimes it hurt for Elliot, wishing he could throw himself into Tyr's arms but feeling the eyes of the entire camp on them. The two of them shared a tent with two bedrolls, although Elliot's was almost never used. Even when Tyr wasn't there, Elliot would sleep in his bedroll, taking some small comforts from the familiar scent and sometimes residual warmth. When they were in the tent together, it was another story. Tyr would hold him close and kiss him passionately, and Elliot would whine in bliss as he felt his small frame held skin-to-skin against Tyr's firm stone-sculpted body. During the cold months, Elliot had become very good at pleasuring Tyr. He had come to crave every opportunity he could find to sneakily slip down into the bedroll and feel the warmth radiating from between Tyr's legs while he practiced his skill. Elliot especially loved when Tyr would take over during these sessions, lacing his fingers through Elliot's long hair and controlling his movements. With the springtime came much more work though. Night after night, Elliot would collapse exhausted into their shared bedroll, then wake up still by himself the next morning. Tyr would run trainings during the daytime and hunt or scavenge by night. Elliot didn't know where he slept, if he slept at all, but he did know he desperately missed the feeling of Tyr's arms locked around him. All these thoughts and more raced through Elliot's mind as he looked up at Tyr. He didn't know how to word his feelings though, and soon Tyr's voice brought him out of his own head. "How did it go?" Tyr asked about the mission. Elliot frowned and shook his head. "We found some stuff but... the New State found us. I had to... kill them." Tyr's face immediately betrayed his concern, he looked around before drawing Elliot in closer. "You're alright though?" Nodding sadly, Elliot couldn't resist any longer. He wrapped his arms around Tyr's muddy midsection, not caring as he dirtied his hands and clothing. Tyr rubbed Elliot's back comfortingly. "Randal died though." Elliot reported, holding back his tears. "I couldn't save him." Tyr gently lifted Elliot's head to meet his eyes. "That was not your job. He knew the risks. Everyone knows the risks of what we're doing here." "I know..." Elliot answered forlornly. "But it was my first time leading. And someone got killed. If I was as good as you then..." Silencing Elliot with a shake of his head, Tyr knelt next to him. "No one can save everyone, Elliot. Not you or me, or Marcel or Ida. We have lost people to this fight already, and we will lose more. None of that is your fault. You completed your mission and you came back. You should be proud of yourself." Elliot shuddered and sniffed but held his composure. "I missed you." He eventually confided. "When we got attacked, I tried to remember everything you taught me but all I could think about was getting back." Hugging Elliot tightly once more, Tyr gave him a soft smile. "There was not an hour that went by that I wasn't worrying for you." Tyr admitted. "But I knew you could do it. You'll make a good leader someday." In spite of himself, Elliot beamed with pride, wiping his eye with a finger. "The New State shouldn't be that close to the camp, should they?" He asked curiously, getting back to business. Tyr shook his head gravely. "No, they shouldn't. They're hunting for us and getting closer. Unfortunately, killing those men will let them know that they are on the right track." Tyr saw the look on Elliot's face and continued. "It was necessary. We will just need to tighten security." Pausing and shifting his weight awkwardly, Elliot didn't quite know how to voice the request he wanted to make. Eventually he leaned in close and asked quietly. "Stay with me tonight?" Tyr's face softened and he gave a brief nod. "I'd like that. Marcel will want to hold a funeral for the one who didn't make it back. Randal?" Elliot nodded. "When that is seen to, I would gladly give you my undivided attention." This cracked Elliot's face into a grin, both of relief and a hint of naughtiness as his mind wandered of its own accord. Tyr instructed him to find Marcel to give his report, then returned to helping clear the fields of large stones. As Elliot strolled back through camp, he was suddenly jostled roughly from behind then forced into a headlock. The momentary flash of reddish-brown hair was all he needed to identify his attacker. "Jay, let me go." He complained. Elliot knew he could slip the headlock if he really wanted to, but he didn't want Jay to think he was taking the good-natured assault too seriously. So, he waited patiently as the older boy ruffed up his hair before turning him loose. The two of them had become even closer over the long winter months. Jay had pursued Elliot for extra knife and stealth training, and Elliot found Jay's expertise in more intimate areas to be very informative during his time spent with Tyr. "The master scavenger." Jay teased. "Back from stealing food from dead farmers?" "Shut up." Elliot answered, with a touch more sincerity than he had intended to add. "Uh oh." Jay immediately sensed the tension but, true to his nature, ignored it. "Did the vultures get to it first? Guess it's grass stew for dinner again." "We got plenty of supplies." Elliot retorted, feeling a little flash of anger at his friend for acting so flippantly. "All I had to do was kill three New State scouts." "Oh, shit." That got Jay's attention and gave Elliot some petty satisfaction at stumping the other boy. He knew it was unfair to be upset with Jay for teasing with him the way they often did. Still though, the feeling of catching the quick-witted Jay on the back foot felt like a minor victory. "They're not supposed to be this close." Jay echoed Elliot's thoughts from earlier. "That's what Tyr said." Elliot agreed. "Those ones won't find us though." Even though the burden of killing weighed heavily on him, Elliot's appreciated the look of respect Jay gave him. "Do you know where Marcel is?" Elliot continued. Jay nodded. "Back in the central tent, I think. He's been so busy lately even I hardly get to see him." Elliot gave a weak smile. "Tell me about it." "I bet it's just as bad with Tyr." Jay nudged Elliot knowingly. "So... Have you guys... gone all the way yet?" He grinned wickedly. Elliot's face went red. He knew he could be open with Jay, but still talking about his intimacy with Tyr was not something he was used to. Furthermore, he didn't really want Jay to know how nervous he felt about that. "No..." He eventually responded lamely. "You're worrying too much about it." Jay pointed out easily. "Just let it happen when you're ready." Elliot didn't know how Jay was able to discuss sex so openly and shamelessly. His lack of a filter was one thing that Elliot found simultaneously endearing and annoying at times. Jay walked with him to find Marcel back at the central tent. The handsome young dancer was definitely showing signs of the significant amount of stress he had been under since starting this operation. His usually immaculately sculpted image was beginning to fall by the wayside. His hair was disheveled and in need of a trim, and his chin and angular jaw had at least a few days' worth of stubble growing in. He still cut a striking figure to be sure, but Elliot hated seeing him under so much pressure. A small crowd of people were gathered around him, asking questions and seeking orders. Elliot shouldered his way to the front and Marcel gave a tired smile when he saw him. The smile widened when he saw that Jay trailed behind Elliot. "I heard about Randal." Marcel spared Elliot the trouble. "He did not have a family, but he was part of our family so we will honor him." Elliot nodded. "Tyr said there would probably be a funeral." Marcel's expression soured only slightly. There was still some tension between the two of them. Marcel partially blamed Tyr for the deaths of several people he cared about during their first real battle. It wasn't a fair stance to hold in Elliot's opinion, but he understood why Marcel felt that way. Time had done a great deal to mend the rift as well. Tyr had of course proven invaluable during the long winter. His survival skills benefited the entire camp more than words could express. And so, Marcel had settled into a somewhat grudging acceptance. He knew they needed Tyr and was making an effort to overlook their past disagreements. At the funeral for Randal, Elliot was stopped by Ida, who gave him a gentle hug and congratulated him on making it back. She was as busy as the others these days, often leading scouting or scavenging missions and directing insurgents to other towns. The funeral was short and followed by the evening meal that Marcel and the rest of the inner circle took in the main tent with a large number of the recruits. Most of them tried to make a point of eating with the people as often as they could, even when food was scarce. It encouraged comradery and boosted morale. Tyr joined them in the tent as well to discuss ramping up security with Marcel. They were both in agreement that the New State was getting closer and could potentially discover them at any time. "We will double the sentries and have them take twice as many patrols." Marcel asserted, and Tyr nodded his assent. As they spoke, Elliot listened but also indulged in crowd-watching. He liked seeing the people at meal-time. It was usually when they were happiest, even after a sad occasion like a funeral, no one was disappointed to receive their evening rations. One man off to Elliot's left, with a short and well-trimmed blonde beard stood from the table he was sitting at. Elliot frowned as he watched the tall muscular man step up onto the bench then onto the tabletop itself. He looked back at Marcel and Tyr, but they were locked in their conversation and had not noticed. The man, now standing on the table, saw him watching and gave him an enigmatic smile that could have meant any number of things. Then Elliot glimpsed something that made his breath catch in his throat. Icy tendrils of trepidation spread through him quickly when he noticed the dark markings on the man's bare upper arm. Markings that looked familiar. "Tiwaz!" The man suddenly bellowed, causing everyone around him to flinch back in fright. Tyr reacted in a way Elliot had never seen before. Without so much as glancing at the man on the table, he whirled around at lightning speed. Elliot never saw his hand reach for a knife, yet suddenly one was flying from Tyr's hand directly toward the blonde man. Elliot expected to hear the familiar dull thudding sound of a knife sinking into flesh, but he did not. When his eyes caught up with him, he saw with shock that the man standing on the table now held the knife that Tyr had thrown. With his arm extended now, Elliot could clearly see the sinister black runes on his arm, making up the mark of Aesir.