Behold the Scalded

Chapter One

In the Scalded, there are two things to get used to; the utter loneliness and the nightmarish creatures that haunt more than just my dreams.

The scorched line that separated the rich and inky radius of overgrown black roots from the rest of the city's dull green grass lay at my feet. I noted the differences between the old terrain that I'd known a couple years ago and the inky recent growth that I'd become accustomed to. The line of demarcation in the soil burned into my sights as I allowed the realization to rip at my heart, I had caused it.

Even though the past few months of my life had become nothing more than hiding, surviving, and defending myself from those who pushed past the city's barricades to gawk, investigate, and take samples of the newly formed vegetation inside the two-mile circle, I've become used to it.

And although some city folk entered, they never stayed.

Speaking of barricades, the inky border had somehow overtaken the police barricades and made their orange hue dull and discolored. It had been only a couple of months since those barricades were safe from the edge by a few feet.

I stared at the thick array of roots that nearly toppled the plastic barriers and forced them to rest at unnatural angles. Was the radius expanding?

A scuffling from behind startled me, and I turned to face the dense forest of trees. The patches of leaves stood out like nothing else, as the full, fluffy fronds coated the branches in large, separated puffs.

I cocked my head to peer beyond the bristles, not expecting researchers this late as the sun had settled below the horizon, nor expecting the huntsmen this early as the sky far west was still lit with deep auburn.

I knew better than to allow my emotions to get the best of me. Ever since the initial incident, I've done my best to keep my temper neutral and my thoughts pure. Deathly afraid of what my imagination can produce, I left speculation to the wind, deciding not to focus too heavily on the what-ifs.

Frustrated with the lack of response, I fixated on the leathery black coating of the tree near the scuffling. Specks of the old, dry and crumbling brown bark peered through pieces of the hardened material that had overtaken it.

Still, I couldn't shake the sense that I wasn't alone.

"You can't fool me. Show yourself." I've been here foraging far too long to be fooled into thinking the noise was only the wind or a small woodland animal.

The only creatures in the Scalded that contained a beating heart were people. People who were too close when the incident occurred, who made this place their home, or forced their way in from the outside after. The latter never go too far or stay too long.

But those are only the creatures with a beating heart. The others, however—

I turned my head toward the crack of a snapping twig. Now that I was sure it wasn't my ears playing tricks on me, I eased behind the wide trunk of a tree to shield me from whoever or whatever was stalking me.

I waited until a person appeared with a head of short hair as white as snow. Their narrow eyes locked onto mine and we stood, stunned. A smudge of black residue smeared across the pale skin on the corner of their lips and continued along the cheek.

My heartbeat sped up with anticipation, but I inhaled slowly to counter it. "Leave me be," I damn near growled but didn't have to as they pulled up the cuffs of their blemished sleeves and backed away behind the thick of the forest.

As I headed through the trees toward my sanctuary, the hem of my shirt caught and snagged the bristles of fuzzy leaves as I hurried by.

I have never seen someone like them before. Although they seemed harmless, a lot about their appearance said plenty. They were young, like me. Similar build with a thin frame but taller by a few inches. They had to be an inhabitant of the Scalded since the smudge on their chiseled cheek showed they took nourishment from the land.

They were vigilant, but something about them seemed odd or out of place.

I moved through the familiar trail of vegetation. The roof of the building came into view in the distance. No matter what went on inside the Scalded, the torn down and abused walls of the specialized hospital always felt like home.

It had been home for two years before the incident and it remained that way even in its dilapidated state.

Entering the deserted building, I realized how fortunate I was that no one came to this spot. Even the few stragglers who stayed behind and refused to exit the Scalded radius knew better than to return to ground zero. To call a hospital my resting place, some would call it lucky. Although it was home, I called it cursed.

I pulled the tattered Winnie the Pooh backpack from my back, an homage to Nurse Jane and her daughter who loved the bear and tossed it on the dirty counter of the front desk reception.

"Hey, Jane." I unzipped the pack and watched the lopsided chair on the other side of the desk through my periphery. "I met someone out there. Strange kind of character. Hair like I've never seen." I paused, thinking about the short pixie cut and bone straight strands. "White as snow. It's ... odd."

I pulled a bundle of dried and dead puffy leaves from my pack and tossed them on the counter. "Brought back some kindling. Maybe I could liven this place up a bit with a cozy fire. What do you think?"

I stared at the empty seat, envisioning nurse Jane's dark brown eyes and her infamous super short haircut. An outline of her body draped in a white lab coat appeared, but immediately dissipated. "Yeah, probably not a good idea. I know."

I left the bag on the counter and the remaining light from the setting sun shone rays of amber-orange through the broken and missing parts of the glass windows, announcing the fast approaching night.

In no time, the hunters would step foot over the inky threshold and enter the Scalded to find trophies they could take back to their wives and children to prove they had fought the boogeyman and are actively trying to take back their land.

I could continue to allow the hospital to hide and protect me, however, when the moonlight shines and illuminates the forest, that's the optimal time to get nourishment. In the mid of night, the roots were the most satisfying and tender. Stockpiling them turned them into nothing more than dry, dead kindling almost immediately.

But worse than facing the hunters during the midnight moonlight, was closing my eyes and heading off to the nightmarish place of my dreams. Staying awake and fighting off hunger could only work for so long.

And right now, hunger called.

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