Manuscript: Chapter 3

      Grim opened his eyes and it was night, black and starless. He was still sitting by the tree. He stood up and it occurred to him that something about the scene was out of sorts. Light danced on the forest ground as if the afternoon sun shone through the canopy, but the ground and the sky disagreed with each other, like two photographs glued together into one bizarre image. The forest was soundless, bereft even of the call of birds and the skittering of small animals in the trees. He did not feel or hear the breeze that played with leafy shadows on the ground.

      Grim stood. He felt his fatigue as a distant thing, something elsewhere. His scratches seemed to be healed too and his shirt was clean and untorn. There was no sign of the duffle bag containing his remaining clothes and food, though. He brushed off his pants, but this was more habitual than practical, as they too were mysteriously clean. He ran a hand through his hair and pondered the strange quiet of the woods.

      Grim began to stroll around the surreal landscape, but stopped almost immediately as he felt a presence just behind him. He turned, and his eye met with the massive figure of a she-wolf. It looked at him with some ancient nameless hunger.

      Grim was frozen. His legs were no longer under his control. He recalled reading somewhere that running from a beast like this was akin to trying to outrun a car, but his brain shouted at his body to go, run, flee from this creature as fast possible. The she-wolf stood there, poised to charge him with, no-doubt, ferocious precision.

      The moment came. Grim felt control of his muscles return and he ran from the she-wolf, full bore. The wolf moved, phantom-like, to intercept him. Grim spun, pawing the earth for purchase as he changed direction to avoid her. She nipped at his heels, but Grim managed to stay just out of her reach. He darted between the trees, feeling the hot breath of the wolf at his back.

      A stream with steep banks appeared ahead and a rotting old log seemed to be the only way across. Grim could see that the sky was brighter beyond the stream. He felt sure this was the right way. Suddenly the great wolf leapt clear over him, knocking him to the ground. It stood between him and the log and growled. Grim stood, ready to run again, but knew he had to cross that log to reach safety.

      “Go on! Let me pass, damn you!” Grim grabbed a stick and threw it at the wolf.

      The wolf growled in response, but now seemed to be looking beyond him, back where they both had come. Grim turned, and before he had time to react, a solid wall of blackness engulfed him, consuming him in darkness.

*     *     *

      Grim woke once again and was once again resting with his back on the tree. The stars shone through the canopy and his clothes were again dirty. His scratches stung.

      “Just a dream. A timely, terrifying dream.” He stood up and turned around...and his jaw dropped. There was, for lack of a better word, nothing. In front of him and expanding to the horizon, the forest was completely gone. The earth itself was impossibly flat, as if no wind had ever touched it, but covered in a dull gray dust. He rubbed his eyes. The effect of the alien landscape was disquieting. The sky looked as it had in his dream, velvet black and unnatural and once again mismatched the day-lit ground. Grim turned back and there again was the forest, as if he had never left it, the stars and the leaves and the crunch of distant nocturnal things inviting normality.

      “Ok. Still dreaming. That’s it.” He looked ahead again. The mysterious landscape stretched out to infinity. He could now, however, make out a light on the horizon -- a soft, distant glow like a far-off town. He shook his head and slapped his face a few times but nothing changed. He suddenly had a funny feeling he wasn’t dreaming at all, that this place was very real and more than likely very dangerous. He looked back, away from the nightmare and was about to return to the woods when he paused.

      What, really, awaited him back there? A step-father who resented him? A mother who wouldn’t defend him? A distant father who had, after all, left him to fend for himself? Grim looked down. He stood where the leafy soil gave way to the gray dust; a dust that, quite possibly, never changed to anything else, forever. He pondered the dim light on the horizon and, against his better judgment, his sense of adventure was sparked. There was something out there, and he suddenly, desperately wanted to know what it was.

      Grim took a deep breath as if preparing to dive into cold water, and took his first steps into the wasteland. The soft dust clouded up momentary with each of his steps, but quickly settled again, as if he had never been there. He had gone about fifty paces when he decided to look back one last time at the forest. The division between this place and the woods must look terribly strange from this distance, he thought. He turned and, as he faced back where from he had come, he was met with another shock. Somehow the entire forest had vanished. The wastes spread out in all directions now.

*     *     *

      Grim quickly discovered that there was, in fact, a night and day cycle to the strange desert of nothing. The ground darkened as he walked towards the glow, as if an unseen sun had set and an invisible moon now took up the task of lighting the gray earth.

      After an hour of walking with the horizon light appearing to get no closer, Grim began to think his decision to come here might have been a rash one. Back at home he had a place to sleep, at least most of the time, and he never had to wait long eat or drink; He was certainly thirsty now. In fact, he couldn’t remember being thirstier. It was also getting cold. He had heard it got terribly cold in deserts at night. He could certainly count this place a desert.

      A distant sound reached Grim’s ears from somewhere in front of him. Someone was singing -- something high and feminine, though he couldn’t make out any actual words. Grim’s curiosity vied with his caution and once again curiosity won out. He jogged towards the singing and after just a few dozen steps the Grim saw source of the tune.

      There, in the middle of the vast gray nothing was a shining pool of water. It was surrounded by soft green grass and tall brown cattails which swayed in an unfelt breeze. There was a woman there. She was dressed in a light white gown and she had long, wet hair that she combed gently with a shimmering pearl comb. She looked as if she had just come out of the water.

      The woman looked up as Grim stepped forward. She stopped singing, but continued to methodically comb her long hair. She gave Grim a warm smile, and when she spoke, her voice was lilting and luminous, like a soft melody from childhood.

      “Come to the pool, little lost one. It is my charge to provide for thirsty travelers here in the wastes.”

      This was the only pool of water Grim seen since he’d first crossed into the dust and the lady certainly didn’t seem like a threat. She was lithe and beautiful and her smooth wet hair shone in the moonlight. Grim approached the pool, keeping an interested eye on the woman.

      “So...” Grim cleared his dry throat, attempting to make small talk as he approached. “Just live around here, then?”

      “Oh yes.” She smiled again. “The pool provides me with food and sweet water. I have no other needs.”  The lady turned to face Grim as he approached the water’s edge.

      “You’re not cold? You’re soaked.”

      She shook her head.

      “Are you all alone here?” Grim knelt down by the water and cupped his hands; he filled them and lifted the water to his lips. It was indeed cool and sweet.

      “Oh, I often have visitors. The wastes are not as empty as they seem, little one.”

      “Like that light on the horizon?” Grim pointed off into the distance, where the glow still beaconed.

      The woman frowned now. Grim felt guilty for ruining her smile. “Oh, we do not tread there. Never there.”

      Grim took another grateful sip and turned to face the woman. He sat down cross-legged by the water. “Why? What’s there? That’s where I was headed.”

      “Oh no, little one.” The woman announced with scandal in her voice. “Do not go there. It is an evil place. Dangerous people live there. Many dangerous people.”

      “Oh,” Grim was disappointed, but curiosity still gnawed at him. “What is it, though?”

      The lady looked distant, her soft pink lips quivered as she whispered her response. “A city. I suppose in your tongue it would be called Wayside.”

      Grim tilted his head. “Odd sort of name. Anyway, my pa used to say ‘places aren’t good, and they aren’t bad, only people get to choose between those.’”

      “Your papa sounds like a wise man.”

      “He also said people too often chose the latter.”

      The woman stood and pulled her hair back. She was barefoot. “What is your name, little traveler?”

      “It’s Ab...Grim. It’s Grim Munroe.” Grim’s eyes followed as woman proceeded past him and into the pool.

      “I am called Lyudmila, Grim Munroe.”

      “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Grim nodded. Lyudmila giggled.

      “So formal. What brings you to the Wastes, Grimka?”

      Grim looked down. “I don’t know. I was in the woods and then I just...ended up here, I guess.” Grim picked up a rock and skipped it across the pond.

      “Lost in the woods. A common thing. You are lucky to have found me so quickly. Tell me, do you like my pool?”

      “Um. Yes ma’am. It’s very nice.” Grim stood. “I should get going though. I’d still like to see this Wayside place.”

       Lyumila sighed. “Well, Grim Munroe, Wayside is two days journey from here, if you indeed are so adamant about going there. But I strongly suggest you stay here for the night. The wastelands can be...inhospitable to the uninitiated.” She immersed herself up to her shoulders and looked beckoningly back at Grim. Grim couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so beautiful.

      “T-That’s a mighty generous offer. Thank you, ma’am.” Grim found was much more willing to stick around than he had been a few minutes ago. The pool and Lyudmila were both quite inviting.

      Grim took off his shoes and worked on his socks. “So, this pool have a name too, like the city? Everything have funny names around here?”

      “Perhaps it did, once. I do not recall it. It is also called Lyudmila now.” She winked slyly and sunk completely below the water.

      “Named after a puddle.” Grim said to himself as he pulled off his shirt. He rolled up his pant legs and waded into the water.

      Lyudmila suddenly emerged next to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Grim tensed; She was cold.

      “You should stay here, maya Grimka. You should rest.” Grim was suddenly feeling very tired. He had, after all, had a very full day. It might even have been multiple days since he had really slept and Lyudmila’s caress was soft and welcoming. She stroked his hair, then his shoulders, then his back. Grim was floating now. His body was weightless in the clear water, Lyudmila’s form wrapping around his own. The water slowly began to close in around him and he welcomed it, let Lyudmila’s cold embrace take him.

      Suddenly Lyudmelia tensed and shouted something in a strange language. “AshkIEit!” The word echoed and warped in Grim’s head. It was a tongue strange and somehow also familiar, but he couldn’t translate it.

      Grim was wrenched from Lyudmila’s grasp as a loud explosion blossomed the water by his head. He lurched and scrambled as a second blast nearly missed his ear, making his head ring like a church bell. Someone was shouting, a man’s voice, but it too echoed and warped as it rang out in the wastes. “Hyesh-heyot. Malkry’Sghehyet, Lyudmelia!” Another blast. Grim scrambled to the shore, gasping and grabbing for his clothes. He could see a man standing by the pool now, dressed in a brown uniform of some sort. He sported a rusty red beard and an old rifle, which he pointed menacingly at the water.

      Lyudmila raged in the middle of the pool, her face a rictus of anger and frustration. She shouted at the man and pointed at Grim. “Blieeesg, Veisideer! Esh’lineer viRes meen!”

      The man smirked and walked calmly over to Grim. Grim was still too stunned to react. “HesnenDI, Lyudmila. HesnenDI.” He fired another shot towards Lyudmila and she dived below the surface of the pool with a shriek. She did not resurface.

      Grim was horrified and angry.

      The man in the uniform knelt down by Grim and extendeded a hand. “H’leny-ish, lineer? Esh, sgyun ortghen?” He said, in the same strange echoing voice as before.

      Grim furrowed his brow, and shook his head. “Why would you do that?” He cried. “Why would you shoot at a lady like that? Are you crazy?” Grim ignored the hand.

      The man raised his eyebrows and smiled.

      “The hell are you smiling for? You could have killed me!” Grim shifted away from the man, who loomed over him but did not move to intercept him.

      Grim looked back at the pool. The water was still and deep. Grim recalled Lyudmila’s cold touch, and its memory no longer welcoming. He shivered. “Ah.” Grim turned his head to face the man again.

      The man smirked and tilted his head. He looked up as if he were thinking about something, then said “Oh, there we go!” and continued in clear English, with an accent that reminded Grim of old British television shows. “Sorry. Haven’t spoken like this in a while. You ok?”

      Grim looked up at the man, who he was beginning to think had just saved his life.

      “You’re not an emere, are you?” The man offered his hand again.

      Grim it and stood up. “Um. Not even sure what that means, so...no, I think.”

      “No, you’re probably not. Name’s Lieutenant Colonel Charles Osborne, once of the British Army, Coldstream Guard, now commander of the Wayside Finders.”

      “Grim.” Grim said succinctly as he replaced his socks and shoes.

      “Just Grim, eh?” Charles Osborne rubbed his bearded chin, then shrugged and began walking towards the glow of the city. He shouted back to Grim. “Suit yourself Grim, though I would suggest that a bit more chattiness might help you in the long run. Come on. We’ve got to get back to the camp.”

      Grim stood there, bewildered, for a moment longer, then rushed to catch up with the man.