The Rat Collector: A Dystopian Thriller (Age of End Book 1) (3 page)

Tamara got to her feet. “Get up and get ready Ella. You have work to do. That wood’s not going to chop itself, dear.”

“Ugh, you don’t know that,” Ella replied. She peered out the window at Martha and Patrick’s cabin. There were no footprints in the snow. No sign of anyone coming or going. “What a crazy dream,” she said as she got out of bed.

The giant tortoise can live for over two hundred years.

SIX

VINCE OPENED HIS eyes. His lids scratched against the dry surface of his eyeballs. He blinked rapidly to build moisture, and then squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight peeking through the edge of the window curtains. He was lying in a modest bed in the corner of a cozy room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of aged wood panels. The piney aroma filled his nostrils as he took a long deep breath. There was a kitchen in the corner, equipped with a gas stove and a small sink. A blackened fireplace was tucked away in the other corner.

He tried to get up, but a strong pain rang through his body. Arms, shoulders, back, chest, stomach, legs. They all ached. An intense pounding invaded his head with each coming heartbeat. He lay back and tried to gather his thoughts. Where was he? Who had brought him here? Where was Saul?

He rested for a moment and tried to sit up again. He swiveled around and let his legs dangle off the side of the bed. The pain rang through his body again, but this time he ignored it. He carefully slid off the bed and onto his feet. A burning rage devoured his soles, crawling up his legs and clawing at his knees. It was a burn too hot to ignore. He collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony. He lay still while the pain subsided. Once it was gone, he sat upright and folded one leg over the other to inspect his feet. They were heavily bandaged.

He grabbed his ankle and bent it further to get a better look. The bottom of the bandage was a light shade of red. As he removed it, he slowly revealed the gory mess underneath. Bare bone showed in scattered areas, and large chunks of flesh hung from what could barely be called a foot anymore. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but there were still wet spots here and there. He carefully covered the wound back up and patted it lightly.

Examining the room again, he noticed a small metal wheelchair in the corner across from the fireplace. His coat and bag were draped over the back. He crawled on his hands and knees, making his way across the room, and climbed into the chair.

The front door creaked open, and a boy’s head poked in. The boy looked no more than seven years old, maybe younger. He slid through the crack and pushed it closed behind him. He stared at Vince. Vince stared back. Neither said a word.

Finally, Vince cleared his throat and quietly introduced himself. “Hello. My name is Vince. What’s your name?”

The boy said nothing.

Vince wondered if perhaps the boy did not understand him. Maybe he spoke another language. “Do you understand me?”

Still no answer. The boy just stared blankly at him. Vince had many questions, but clearly this boy was not the one to ask.

“Is there someone in charge? Someone I can speak with?”

The boy smiled and nodded. He opened the door and signaled for Vince to follow. Vince wheeled his chair through the doorway and closed it behind him.

The cold slapped his skin. He reached behind to grab his coat. His aching muscles intensified as he twisted his body. His coat fumbled about in his trembling hands. He draped it over his shoulders and huddled his arms close to his body.

The village was populated with small wooden cabins. A heavy coat of snow covered the roof of each one. The roads were nearly deserted. A lone old man wandered through the snow, spouting nonsense to a non-existent audience. No one else was outside, but faint candlelight glowed from the inside of windows, and dark smoke rose from chimneys in thick puffs.
They must all be inside
. A forest of evergreens bordered the village. The boy stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms over his head to get Vince’s attention. When Vince finally looked, the boy signaled for him to follow, entering the cabin across the road.

A beautiful horse stood out in front, tied to a wooden post. Tall and strong with a white hide; its hooves the size of coconuts. Its gorgeous mane fluttered in the light breeze. He took a moment to admire the gentle beast, and then rolled his chair into the road. The thick snow made it difficult. His aching arms burned as he turned the wheels, and his muscles tingled with an unpleasant numbness.

When he reached the other side, he pushed through the door to enter the cabin. The boy was sitting in a chair behind a desk far bigger than he was, swinging his short legs back and forth above the ground. The room was almost identical to the other one. The curtains along the windows. The wooden panels. Even the same piney aroma. He rolled along the hollow sounding floor, and stopped in front of the desk, across from the boy. The wooden chair creaked as the boy kicked his legs and smiled at Vince. Vince smiled back, confused.

“What are we waiting for?” Vince asked.

“Stay here,” the boy said finally. He hopped off the chair and left through the back door. When he returned, a large burly man followed closely behind. His massive beard covered his lower face and reached down to his belly. He was well-built with broad shoulders and an imposing posture. The falcon perched on his shoulder glared intensely at Vince.

He walked to the desk and placed a tray in front of Vince. On it was a warm bowl of chili and a cool mug of water. “Eat up. You must be starving,” he said with a full jovial voice. “Welcome to Snow Peak. My name is Rupert.”

Snow Peak. The name was fitting. Vince had many questions, but the smell of warm food was far too enticing. He took a small sip of water and then shoveled spoonfuls of chili into his mouth. When the bowl was empty, he downed the rest of the water and politely wiped his mouth. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, “My name is Vince.”

“Nice to meet you, Vince. You’ve already met Carl.” He pointed to the boy, who smiled back and waved. “He’s a little shy, but his mind’s as sharp as a needle. And this here is Fred.” He held out his arm and the falcon fluttered over, her eyes still piercing through Vince. “She’s one fierce bird.”

“She?” Vince said with surprise.

“Yes, Fred is a she.” He lowered his voice. “Although, she doesn’t know she has a gentleman’s name. She is one magnificent bird.”

“That’s quite a horse you have out there,”

“Yes, it is. Always reliable. Unfortunately, it’s the only horse we have.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Like I said, we’re in Snow Peak,” Rupert said as if the answer was obvious.

“Are there any other towns nearby? I’m not familiar with Snow Peak.”

“Sorry friend. Can’t help you with that one. We don’t have much contact with others. Everything we need is right here.”

“You don’t have contact with others?”

“Nope. Just you and Fred. Occasionally, traders come through, but they never stay too long.”

“You haven’t seen a man pass through recently, have you? Skinny, black hat?

Rupert paused, lost in deep thought. “There was that one fellow out in the snow plains. I saw him right around the same time I found you. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I do recall a black hat. But he never came through town. He turned towards the forest. I considered following him, but you were in bad shape. You needed to be treated right away. It’s a miracle you’re even alive right now.”

“How long was I out?”

“We found you two days ago. We were all pretty worried. I’ve never seen that much blood before.” He glanced at Vince’s feet. “You look okay now, though.”

“Do you know where that forest leads? Where is he headed?”

“I go into the woods to hunt, but I stay fairly close by. I don’t know what else is out there, other than trees.”

“Saul,” Vince whispered to himself. “What are you up to?”

“What was that?” Rupert leaned forward, turning his ears.

Vince almost repeated Saul’s name but decided against it. They did not need to know about Saul. Not yet. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

“I hope—”

An older lady burst through the door, interrupting his thought. Panic lingered in her eyes. She leaned against the wall, out of breath. “Rupe…Rupe…” She tried to speak, but her panting was too rapid. She took a short moment until finally the words spilled from her mouth. “Rupert! Another person is missing!”

Frustration swept across Rupert’s face. “Damn it!” He yelled, startling Vince. Just seconds earlier, the man was both kind and welcoming. Even Fred was a little startled by his outburst. He took a moment to calm himself and turned to the lady. “Who’s missing?” he asked in an aggressively calm tone.

She began to tear up. “Patrick,” she answered.

Rupert released a long tired sigh. “Is Martha okay?”

“She’s upset, but she’s safe.”

“Good.” He stood up. “I’ll take a look at their cabin. See if I can find anything helpful. I just hope we have better luck than we did with Alan’s cabin. Can Martha stay with you until we have this sorted out?

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Mary. Carl, go with her.” Carl ran over to Mary, and they left the room. Rupert glanced back at Vince. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Can I come with you?”

Rupert furrowed his brow. “If you really want to, I don’t see why not.”

He walked behind the wheelchair to push, but Vince waved him off. He wanted to do it himself.

SEVEN

VINCE FOLLOWED RUPERT back out into the cold. Pushing the chair through the snow was much easier now. A little food and water went a long way.

The old man was still outside, and just as nonsensical as before. Rupert caught Vince staring at him. “Don’t mind him. His mind isn’t what it used to be, but he means well. He has some good days, some bad. It looks like today is one of the bad ones. He’ll be fine, though. Come on, let’s get moving.”

As they approached the cabin, Rupert saw Mary, Martha, and Carl through the window next door. Martha was sobbing, and Mary and Carl tried desperately to comfort her. There was only one set of footprints, leading from Martha’s cabin to Mary’s. “Those must be Martha’s footprints.”

“There are no others?” Vince asked. “How did he leave without leaving footprints?”

Rupert had no answer.

“Did it snow last night?” Vince asked. “Maybe the snow covered them up.”

“No. It was a clear sky last night.”

“Hmm.”

Before entering, Rupert circled the perimeter but found nothing of interest.

The room inside was also almost identical to the others. The only difference was a slightly bigger bed. The room itself was in perfect condition. Nothing unusual. No signs of a disturbance.

“It’s like no one was ever here,” Vince said, amazed. “The room looks untouched.”

Rupert nodded. “Just like yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“One of our others, Alan, went missing two nights ago. I checked his cabin yesterday. It was exactly like this. No footprints. No struggle. Like no one was ever there.”

“Did anyone see anything?” Vince had his suspicions about these kidnappings, but he was not yet ready to share. He wanted to learn more first.

“No one saw anything. Not even Alan’s wife. She slept through the night. I suspect it will be the same with Martha. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

When they were done inspecting the room, they went next door to speak with Martha. When they arrived, Carl had left, but the two women remained. Martha was no longer crying.

“Where’s Carl?” Rupert asked.

Mary looked up, surprised that they were already done. “He’s getting food for Martha. Did you find anything?”

“Nothing. Just like with Alan. There are no footprints and everything looks normal.” He glanced at Martha. “Did you hear or see anything last night. Anything at all.”

She shook her head. “No. We went to sleep, and when I woke up, he was gone.”

“Nothing unusual happened last night?” Vince asked.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Rupert patted him on the shoulder. “This is Vince. He’s the one I found up in the mountains a few days ago.”

Vince leaned forward to shake her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please don’t say that.” More tears ran down her cheeks. “You make it sound like he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry. That was not my intention.”

Carl came back holding a bowl of chili.

Rupert gently rubbed Martha’s back. “You go ahead and eat. I think we know everything that there is to know right now. I’ll call a town meeting later today. People should know what’s going on.” Rupert left, and Vince followed.

Martha held the bowl of chili but didn’t eat. Instead, she just stared at it.

EIGHT

ELLA SLAMMED HER ax down on the log, watching it split cleanly down the middle. Chopping wood was exhausting, but she did it so often it was second nature. Just another of the many chores she took over when her father passed away.

She stood over the pile of wood, satisfied with her work, when her mother called from the back porch. “Ella, could you run out to the library? I need a few things.”

“Of course, Mother.” She wedged the ax into the chopping block and headed inside. Her mother provided a list of three books: a recipe book for stews, a guide to edible plants, and a book about herbs and spices. Her mother had recently developed an interest in cooking and was experimenting with new dishes. Ella found herself making trips to the library more often these days, but she did not mind. She enjoyed browsing the shelves and discovering new books.

On her walk over, she came across the old man in his usual spot, yelling and stomping his feet in the snow. Ella approached him with a smile. “Hello, Horace,” she said in her most cheery voice. “You’re looking handsome today.” Horace quieted down and attempted a lopsided smile. Ella chuckled “Okay honey, don’t outdo yourself with all that yelling. Wouldn’t want you to lose your voice.” She patted his shoulder. “See you later.”

When she arrived at the library, it was completely empty. Not unusual for this time of day. She pulled out her mother’s list. First, a recipe book for stews. She browsed the shelves.
The Secrets to Home Cooking: Soups and Stews
. Perfect. She adored soups. Perhaps she could convince her mother to brew a nice hot batch of corn chowder.