The Wanderers

Richie groaned and tipped himself over so that he could lay on his side, "The hybrids? You intend to kill them all?"

She frowned, "We have not decided. It seems irresponsible to leave our genetic material on your planet, however they are all infertile." When I raised my brow at her, she continued, "As I said, women wanderers can control their fertility, we do not have spawn unless we decide to which is not often—most sentient beings are capable of this, so it was an error on our part that we assumed humans to be included in that. However, the combining of our genetics have had odd effects on the hybrids. The tribe that attacked your caravan were drawn there because they are all spawn of male wanderers who were attached to me when they had children with human women. Though those men are no more, their attachment carried down somehow. The hybrids did not understand why they felt inclined to take me or why they felt like I could give them the ability to reproduce, that is why they bound me."

"You can control their fertility?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded, "it is a good thing too or they would have over run your planet by now. Their sexual urges apparently come from their human side; I believe the phrase is, they 'fuck like rabbits.'"

I laughed, I couldn't help it. She frowned at me, but I said, "So if they aren't fertile then just go. Leave them behind, we will clean up the mess."

Her bright eyes appraised me first, then my son, "And what happens afterwards? Say we do leave the hybrids alive. They are not easy to kill. Eventually they could become desperate and attack your cities, give into the savage half of their ancestors, kill, rape, destroy. Perhaps humans would survive it, perhaps not—but in five hundred years? A thousand? When your species gets their sea legs under them and venture into space? I have seen enough to know that humans can carry a grudge. It would not end well for you to track the wanderers down and instigate another attack. So that only leaves us with two options—destroy all of the hybrids or remove sanction on fertility and let natural selection take its course. Neither option is good."

She had a point.

"What happens to me when you leave?" Richie asked quietly.

Vega hesitated, her voice coming out soft, "I suppose that is up to you. You are bonded to me, I cannot leave you behind. If you do not want to travel with me and want to remain here, then I will have to break our bond."

"You said that was a death sentence to a male wanderer," I pointed out, getting nervous suddenly.

"Yes, in a way it is because after the bond is broken they are mortal. They can be killed. I am not sure how it is for a human, though; I do not think you would survive the process of the bond breaking." She dropped her gaze before she rotated her body and laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, "It is not pressing at the moment though, it will be many years before we are ready to leave this planet."

My mind was reeling so I could only imagine what Richie was going through; the choices were shit, either leave Earth, leave his wife, his progeny, the only home he ever knew, and me—or die.

...

Surprisingly, I was the last one to wake. Richie was already up, sitting beside Vega on the far side of the cavern, the two talking softly. Before I stirred I simply opened my eyes and watched them; their connection was clear. My son sat casually close to her, smiling softly while he talked, on occasion looking to her face and deep into her eyes. I could see the adoration in his expression; it somehow seemed wrong yet right. He had a wife—granted, they only saw each other maybe every fifty years but it was a commitment they both agreed to. But now? Now he'd either leave her alone or he'd die and leave her alone. I wondered how she would take the news, if she would blame me for making an impossible choice. Would he say goodbye to her before he left? If he left?

Vega's eyes were latched onto mine in an instant, as if she knew I was awake. I sighed and forced myself up right; glancing out the entrance, I was surprised to see that the sun was already high in the sky. "Have you two come up with a plan?" I asked.

Richie looked over to me; upon seeing I was awake he immediately put distance between him and the wanderer by getting up to sit beside me. He offered the canteen, "Sorry, I don't have any coffee."

I grunted and drank, waiting for their response.

"I will journey with you to see that you find your caravan," she said. "Then I suppose I shall find some more hunters to take me in. I suggested to Richie that the pair of you could bring me in and take the credits but he refuses."

"You're damn right I refuse," Richie said immediately, "it is just wrong."

I nodded, "I'm inclined to agree with him. Why would you want us to turn you in?"

She looked away, "Credits have no meaning to me but I understand their usage in your society. I offered because Richie has people; whatever decision he makes when it comes time for the wanderers to go, he will leave them. The credits would keep them well for a long time."

Richie stiffened as she spoke, staring at her though she refused to meet his gaze. His voice was strained with sorrow, "It—it wouldn't be right for us to turn you in."

"I understand," she replied, rising. "We should start walking; perhaps we can catch your caravan once they take a rest at the next town."

We gathered what small supplies we had and left the cavern; I frowned, squinting up at the sun. I wished I had my hat, my sunglasses, my duster and my weapons. I'm not sure where my pistol ended up at but the empty holster was a reminder that I was unarmed in the wild. Richie looked like he shared my sentiment though it occurred to me he didn't have anything to worry about—his bond with the wanderer would save him from whatever harm came our way. I would not be so lucky.

Vega seemed unconcerned at our lack of preparation as we began walking northwest. The long leather duster she wore covered her eye catching skin from sight, aside from the hole burned in it where her back and front were visible. None of us spoke, we simply wandered through the wilderness, taking care to fill the canteen and drink as much water from the river before we parted ways with it and head into the prairie. The sun meandered across the sky, sending down scorching heat on our fair heads, threatening to burn our faces if we managed this way much longer.

When it finally began to set, we were still in the wide open grassland. Richie had slowed down substantially in the middle of the afternoon so we were no longer making good progress; Vega pointed to an abandoned farm house in the distance. I figured it was just as good of a shot as any—generally we avoided places like this as they drew too much attention from others but the thought of sleeping on a broken down couch or a bed or hell even a pile of clothes was like a dream.

As we neared it, Richie grew tense, his eyes scanning the surrounding terrain; he was afraid, just as I was, that there was someone already in the house.

Vega, sensing our apprehension, spoke softly, "There is no one inside, nor within five miles of us."

I looked her over; having an alien's intuition seemed like a grand thing in a traveling companion. As we approached the house it was clear that no one had used it in years, maybe even since Day One; the broken out windows were boarded over and the door was bolted shut. It took some effort but I managed to crawl through a basement window. Once I found the stairs and where the front door was, I let Richie and the wanderer in.

The house would have been a decent place to live back in the day; the furnishings had all been covered with white sheets to keep the dust off. The kitchen was bare but as I eased my tired body down onto one of the couches, I sighed. I rolled my head to the side to see Richie just as content. Maybe later we'd try to find a bed but for now anything other than the ground was like royalty.

Vega glanced between the pair of us and shook her head before heading towards the door. I watched her leave without a word; Richie shrugged when I looked at him. To pass the time, I asked him something that had eaten away at me all day, "What are you going to do when they leave?"

"I honestly don't know," he said. "You and I have evaded death far too long, father. It seems right that my body go into the ground, that I decay away into the land and become one with the earth."

"But there's too much out there to see," I said, knowing he was thinking it just the same. He nodded in agreement. "What about your wife?"

He frowned, "I am not sure if I would tell her. I loved her but...this is not the life I wanted to live with her. This is the life she chose, to turn me out because she couldn't bare to look at me when I got younger. It was not right, for either of us." He drew in a deep breath before he continued, "I told her the last time we were together that I wanted a divorce."

"How did she take it?" I asked; he had never mentioned it before and I assumed that he would be returning to her in about twenty years.

He sighed, "She realized just what this had done to us and agreed. I gave her all of the credits I had at the time so that she could continue her life without me. I just still haven't figured out what to do beyond that."

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, surprised. It was a lot for me to think on; when it had started to finally sink in, I was horrified to discover that I was jealous of Richie. I tried to push those thoughts from my mind, "You should go with them then. See the galaxy, all the things that no human will get to experience."

"I would have to leave you," he pointed out. "I am not sure if I am ready for that."

I knew exactly how he felt. Richie was my only child. Carolyn had three children and two grandchildren when Day One occurred—all of them were still around. Her life was filled with their love and the love of the distant generations to come after. But for me, even when my old bones got spunk back into them it seemed irresponsible to bring more life into this world. Richie had five children over the years but they were all long gone; he couldn't bear the thought of sending any more of his offspring into the ground, knowing full well that he wouldn't age or die like they did. "I would rather you leave and live, than stay and die," I said, truly meaning it, "it would be enough for me just to know you were out there, somewhere, among the stars."

He didn't reply, which was just as well—our conversation wasn't going anywhere. When the time arrived, Richie would make his choice and either way I would be left behind to live with it. In the silence that permeated the room, my eyelids grew heavy. I could tell by his deep breathing that my son was already out and soon I joined him in a peaceful, comfortable slumber.

I wasn't sure how long we slept, it had to have been an hour or more; the door slowly creaked open. My body immediately grew tense, jarring me awake as I remembered that we no longer in the safety of the caravan. When my eyes opened, my hand automatically reached for my pistol only to discover it was gone.

"Be calm, Aldrich," her lyrical voice said quietly.

I couldn't make her out in the darkness of the house but simply knowing she was present did ease my nerves some. I forced my body to relax back into the couch and I listened to her sounds as she moved about the room. I couldn't figure out what she was doing until I heard the familiar scratch of a flint being scraped by a knife. In the black I saw flickers of the spark she created, I watched as it caught onto the dry grass in the stone fireplace. Her face shimmered as she leaned in to blow on the embers, the shadows on her skin reminding me of the smoldering heat a long burning log holds. She coaxed the tiny flame around until it caught on a piece of dry wood and sparked up a fire.

Once it was big enough to light the room, I looked over her form as she knelt there watching the flames dance. She had shed her duster and pulled her hair back into a long braid that rested over her left shoulder. When she turned towards me and caught my gaze, her green eyes lingered a moment too long before she rose. Her hand pointed down to two large hares laying on the ground at her feet, "See to these. I am going to the upper floor to look for some new attire."

I watched her lithe body as it walked across the room and she ascended the stairs, her movements were so basic but something in them portrayed the many lifetimes she had spent learning how to use her body to its fullest. To say she was graceful or elegant was an understatement.

I sat up, slowly rising before standing and walking into the kitchen. It was hard to see from the small amount of light that leaked in from the living room but I managed to find my way around well enough to secure a large knife, a cutting board and a bowl. By the time I had returned to the living room, Richie was sitting up and stretching.

"She hunted?" He asked curiously.

"I assume so," I replied, also surprised. She had no weapon on her that I could tell; when I picked up the rabbits they were still warm and limber, a fresh kill. They were in pristine condition, aside from a broken neck; the wanderer had skills that were so acute she could chase down and catch a pair of hares. I imagine it would have been a sight to see.

By the time Richie helped me clean and skin the rabbits and they had finished roasting on the spit in the fireplace, the wanderer returned from the second story. She had found some clothes, though I was surprised at her choice; instead of pants she donned a long, lightweight grey linen skirt and a billowing long sleeve button up plaid shirt. Vega sat down on the couch and leaned back.

When Richie offered her part of his rabbit, she shook her head, "You eat. You need the energy."

He frowned; I knew it didn't sit well with him that she wasn't partaking in this meal or the one yesterday. Granted, wanderers could go for a stretch without food but there was no reason for her to do so now when there was plenty to be had. I tore off a leg, rose and sat beside her, "Please, dine with us."

She looked at me for a moment, no doubt weighing my persistence if she refused; she relented and took it, picking off bits of meat and chewing carefully. We ate in silence until nothing was left but a small pile of bones.

Vega was the first one to stand, looking at us through the dying firelight, "There are several rooms upstairs with beds in them. It will be much more comfortable than these couches."

She didn't wait for a response before she vanished once again up the stairs. Richie and I stood and slowly stretched, dragging our tired bodies after her; it was a lot of walking that we did today. Normally we ride our horses through the prairie—no wonder our charges were always tired.

At the top of the stairs was the master bedroom; I could barely make out the wanderer's shimmering form as she sat on the edge of a large bed, pulling her boots off. I forced myself to look away and walk down the hall a bit, coming upon a smaller room with a single bed. I sat down on a chair and kicked my boots off, unbuckling my empty belt; glimpsing through the darkness of the hallway I saw Richie hesitate before he entered the room Vega had chosen. I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard their door shut. Thankfully by the time my head hit the pillow I was out like a light and not subjected to the muffled moans and squeaking bedsprings of their bonding.

The morning came all too quickly, my internal clock waking me up just as the sun had began to brighten the sky; I could see around my room a little bit through the light that crept in between the boarded over windows. Forcing my body up I stretched my tall, lanky frame before walking towards the closet; I was happy to discover a long canvas duster and a cowboy hat, even if they were a size too big. I pulled out a thin cotton long sleeve shirt and some other items and figured it was probably time I attempted to clean up a bit.

When I walked out into the hallway, I was surprised to see Vega carrying two large buckets of water towards the bathroom; she glanced at me, looking me over before continuing into the small room and setting the buckets by the tub. "I will never understand how humans can remain dirty for so long," she murmured when I leaned against the door frame, blocking her path.

She stood in front of me, her eyes caressing the details of my face in such a way that it aroused and frightened me. "How did you know he was my son?" I asked.

A soft smile touched her lips, "You two look a lot alike but you are older. I can see it in your eyes."

I nodded slowly, maintaining her gaze, "They say the eyes are the windows to the soul."

"Surprisingly poetic words from your race," she smirked, "a bit obscure but true none the less. If one knows how to look into those windows, that is."

"You will take care of him, when you leave?" My voice was a quiet whisper but the tone of it erased her smile.

As if she could sense my worry, my need to keep Richie safe, she gingerly reached up and her soft fingers trailed down my jaw line, "Do not despair, Aldrich. All will be as it should."

Her vague words were surprisingly comforting, as was her touch. I wanted more, more of her but I knew I would never be privy to such a deep connection with such a magnificent creature so I simply stepped out of her way. She pointed towards the buckets of water before she walked past me, "For you and your son to refresh yourselves."

I shut the door, drawing in a deep breath to discover that her scent still lingered in the air—I had never noticed it before, the way a wanderer smelled but as I breathed her in I immediately knew it was theirs. I don't know if I could describe it but they smelled like the looked—golden, mysterious, powerful. I shook my head to clear away the errant thoughts of arousal I had for Vega and hastily stripped my clothes off, standing naked in the claw foot tub. It took some doing but I managed to wet myself down, wash myself with some soap and rinse off using only one of the buckets of water, saving the other for Richie.

I dressed in the strange clothes, frowning when I saw that they fit a bit awkwardly on my thin body but figured they would have to do. By the time I had finished, Richie was up and standing outside the door; he handed me a slab of the remaining jerky before shutting himself into the bathroom to bathe.

I gathered my things and retired to the porch, sitting on the first step while slowly chewing the jerky and looking out over the barren stretch before me. It wasn't long before Vega leaned over the railing, her gaze following mine. We remained like that for a while, staring at the gradually lightening prairie until Richie finished up inside and joined us. He had found himself a white canvas cowboy hat and a brown trench coat; he handed me a pair of sunglasses before pulling the locked door shut behind him.

The day didn't seem quite as hot as the one before, though that isn't really saying much as it was certainly over a hundred. The vast stretches of open grass started to give way to patches of massive trees, towering tall with thick branches, their roots buried deep into the earth where water was stored. The flat land was broken up with tall juts of mountains and plateaus, signaling our arrival into the wilderness of old Canada. I knew the area vaguely, it wasn't one that we traveled with a caravan but one that we drifted through on occasion when it was just Richie and I.

By the time we found a spot to camp for the night, the sun had dropped in the sky; I was exhausted but Richie seemed to be in much better shape than the day before. We found a quiet place near a wide river, the forest lush and green along the sandy bank. We were tucked into a small cove of sorts, high rocks surrounding us on all sides, a sandbar stretching out in front of us, the dark water rolling down the stream. When we finally decided on a spot, Vega's soft voice broke the silence that had hung throughout our trek, "Please build a fire."