Derelict: Terror on the Tidelands (AFTER: A POST-APOCALYPTIC SURVIVOR SERIES) by T.M. Brown & Eerie River Publishing

Author:T.M. Brown & Eerie River Publishing [Brown, T.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eerie River Publishing
Published: 2021-04-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter III: Colossus

The descent from Astrid’s into the Tidelands was relatively easy. Rugged mountains gave way to a thin strip of forsaken civilization, and beyond that, barren mudflats stretched for as far as the eye could see. Several small hillocks topped with the skeletal remains of trees broke the otherwise featureless horizon. The ocean no longer reached this far, even at high tide, but rainwater and runoff from the nearby mountains kept the plains damp throughout the fleeting months of summer. A wrong step and they’d be trapped in the sucking mire.

The freeze and thaw of the seasons left the ground they trod especially tenuous. Stefan’s wounds were infected and his flesh grew sallow, yet he continued to guide the party through the treacherous wastes. He was clearly experienced in navigating the Tidelands and Mikaela quietly wondered what he was keeping from them. But she was hung over from a night of drinking and the last thing that sounded appealing was a drawn-out conversation. She pressed on in silence, the endless mire and relentless wind contesting her every step.

Grey faded to black. Stefan led the group up one of the lonely hillocks to shelter amongst the wind-worn stones and leafless corpses of long-dead trees. Upon finding a small depression sheltered from the wind, he dropped his bag and took a long drink from his canteen. Mikaela and the rest of the party followed suit.

“The tides don’t make it quite this far,” Stefan said wearily. “But the Parched almost certainly will. Stay quiet and make sure your tarp covers you completely.” He took another drink from his canteen and winced as his cracked lips contacted the rim. “They don’t like to leave the moisture of the sands if they don’t have to. Let’s make sure we don’t give em’ a reason.”

“Should we take turns on watch?” Donovan asked. “You know, to make sure we all get enough sleep.”

Stefan shrugged. “If it makes you feel better…” He stowed his canteen and began rummaging through his bag. “Personally, I wouldn’t bother. Stay out of sight and mask your heat as best you can. These Parched… They’re different than the ones you’re familiar with.”

“Different how?” Mikaela asked.

Stefan produced a hammer and began driving stakes into the ground. “They come from deeper places… Darker places…” His uncovered eye met Mikaela’s. “Just get your shelter up. High tide won’t be long.”

They did as Stefan instructed and spent the night in the shelter of the hillock. Despite her exhaustion, Mikaela couldn’t sleep. A cold rain set in several hours after dark. As her consciousness alternated between dreams and reality, she swore she could make out a low, sonorous melody intermingled with the steady thrum against her tarp. It was a haunting, primal sound, unlike anything she had heard before, and it left her profoundly disturbed. She spent the rest of the night longing for a sleep that would never come.

By the time the muted daylight of the Tidelands finally arrived, Mikaela was packed and ready to depart.

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