Brunning Divide

Episode 1: Unwelcome Guests - Part 2

Every morning was a struggle. A battle of mind over matter—or my head over my pillow. I wanted to sleep in. I wanted my body to rest longer. Years of waking up before dawn had programmed my internal clock and try as I might, I couldn't beat it.

That morning I lay in bed staring at the rifle mounted on the wall opposite my bed. Warped and melted, it didn't work. But I kept it. At first I didn't want to. When I was little, the damn thing terrified me. My father put it on my wall, said it would remind me of bravery... and to never let my guard down.

Now, all it did was remind me how things could go to crap.

I closed my eyes. One last effort to sleep. Five more minutes, that's all I wanted. Then the smell of fried crelix eggs and fresh oat loaf hit my nose, instantly waking up my stomach. With mind and stomach against me, I gave up any chance of more sleep.

Hurray for another monotonous day of labor. Another day exiled in Brunning. What a dump of a town, if it could even be called a town. The spattering of dusty shanties and barns were more like a half-dead, fully-baked madman's vision. Except not a madman's, Brunning was too inhuman to ever be a human contrivance. No, Brunning sprung directly from the minds of the Hibernarii, higher beings that use us lesser humans for their higher purposes that we don't have a say in. Hurray.

At least the day would end with another chance to see Marigold. If it wasn't the smell of food that got me out of bed, it was knowing the sooner I got my work done, the sooner I could go see the most beautiful girl in Brunning.

And if Brunning had a population of forty-two million people instead of just forty-two people, Marigold would still be the most beautiful girl.

I threw on my pants and clima-jacket, stepping into my boots as I headed downstairs.

I pounded hard on Jamus' door on my way to the kitchen. He had the bigger room, but I didn't care. I don't sleep on the ground floor. Ever.

Plus, I enjoyed waking him up every morning. My internal clock worked so well... I had to share it with my little brother.

Breakfast was on the table when I walked in. My mother stood by the stove, looking out the window, stirring some more eggs on the stove.

"Morning, Mom." I sat at the table and grabbed a small bread cake.

"Morning, Xander," she said, looking out the window into the barely lit brown landscape.

I poured a shot of black coffee. "Eggs are burning."

"Wha—Oh!" She pulled the pan off the element. She dumped out the pan on a plate and put it on the table next to the first plate she'd made. She set to emptying more of the small, leathery crelix eggs into the still-hot pan.

I eyed the two plates of eggs. Despite the rising morning heat, I preferred hot eggs, but I took the first non-burnt plate. Jamus could have the others.

Mom kept her attention mainly to the window, absently stirring at the eggs. I may not be the most socially observant person, but something was off. Mom never did things 'absently'.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing." She didn't even look at me. "Just waiting for your father."

My father, Absalom Floros, the man who never slept in. The man from whom I'd inherited my internal clock—only his was set on overdrive. By the time I'd wake up he'd already have an hour of actual work done. Even my mother didn't wake up as early as him. But my father made it a point to also eat breakfast as a family. This morning, his absence was atypical.

Jamus emerged into the kitchen, his dirty blond hair standing up in the classic Jamus-half-asleep style. He plopped his boots on the ground and took his seat at the table across from me.