Nancy heard the hunt more than saw it, even with the nearly full moon overhead. Two men, one larger than average, chased a small teenager. It looked like the men had clubs. That was good; it meant they probably didn’t have guns. They headed toward the clearing.
As quietly as possible, Nancy slid from her hiding place and moved toward the clearing herself. The group had decided it was the best place for an ambush if the men could be herded that way.
She got to the clearing and rolled to the center just before the teen broke through the trees. Nancy nocked an arrow to her bow.
The teenager, a girl of about fourteen, stopped and stared with wide eyes, but only for a moment. In the moonlight, the gray spots on her face and arms were clearly visible.
One of Nancy’s people lept from the side, knocking the teen to the ground and out of the way.
The first man, the large one, rushed into the clearing. A flash of confusion crossed his face. It left when the arrow entered his chest. He looked down at the shaft and fell forward.
The smaller man came into the clearing behind his friend. Seeing his friend fall, he ran to him and knelt beside him. “Joe, you okay? Joe?”
Then he noticed he wasn’t alone.
About a dozen small people with bows surrounded him.
“You killed Joe,” he said.
“How many of us have you killed?” Nancy growled. “How many times have you beaten one of us? Well, you aren’t doing it anymore. You’re going to go back and tell everybody that the, what do you call us, ‘Spotties’? Yea, tell them that you ran into a whole pack of Spotties and they killed Joe and they will kill any of you Plainos that give us any trouble.”
The man didn’t move except to look around at the group threatening him.
Nancy stood to her full, short height, bow still in hand. “Didn’t you hear me? I said go. Go now and warn all the rest of your plain-skinned friends that we aren’t taking your abuse anymore. If we catch you hurting one of us, we’ll hurt a bunch of you. If we have to, we’ll burn your whole damned villages down. Now go!”
The man stood, slow and nervous, glancing around at the arrows pointed his way. His eyes were wide and his breath shallow. Finally, his brain caught up to the situation. He turned back the way he came and ran.
Nancy watched him go, then turned to one of her people and nodded in the man’s direction.
Three of the archers disappeared into the woods, the same direction as the running man.
The new girl stood slowly, backing away nervously.
Nancy shouldered her bow then held up her hands, palms forward. “It’s okay; we won’t hurt you. You’re safe now.”
The others lowered their bows and moved toward the girl, smiling to welcome her.
“My name is Nancy. We have all been in your situation. The plain skinned people are angry or frightened or whatever. They chased us, beat us, tried to kill us. We all escaped and are together now. You’re among friends.”
The girl looked around.
The other people had gray spots on their skin too. All the spots were different but the same kind of thing. Everybody was about her height and build. She had never seen other people like her before.
She passed out.
Running Home
The small man ran as best he could back to the village. He and Joe had already run quite a bit trying to catch that Spotty girl, so he was tired. The memory of those arrows pointed at him provided extra energy.
He couldn’t see or hear the three archers behind him. They stayed a safe distance behind him, keeping him in sight.
The man finally made it past the woods and into the cultivated fields. The village was a short distance beyond. He smelled the smoke and saw the glow of the house fire from earlier. Almost everybody should still be there. That’s where he would go; that’s where he could tell everybody about Joe.
Still running, he changed his path to head for the house fire. The furrows of the field made for rough running, threatening to twist his ankle at every step. That didn’t matter; he had to tell everybody about Joe.
His chest heaved, trying to pull in more air. The cold, dry night air tearing at his lungs from the inside. His heavy legs fought with the memory of the arrows; the arrows won.
Finally, at the edge of the field, he could see other villagers. “Hey!” he called, trying to get their attention.
At this point, the exhaustion was enough to slow him down. He needed to catch his breath. He waved his arms over his head to get someone to notice him.
Behind him, at the other edge of the field, the archers watched. “Remember,” said one, “Nancy wants him wounded, not killed. He can’t talk if he’s killed.”
An arrow pierced the man’s left arm as he waved. He let out a shriek of pain.
Another shaft went through his right thigh. Another shriek followed. He collapsed.
Several villagers ran toward him.
The archers disappeared, already on their way back to their own camp.
One of the villagers called out, “It’s Ethan! He’s Hurt!”
A group of about eight gathered around him, some carrying torches.
A man in dirty coveralls knelt beside Ethan and began checking his wounds. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Who did this to you?”
Ethan shook his head no to the first question and then gestured toward the treeline. “It was Spotties, Tyler. There were a bunch of them.”
The other villagers looked nervously toward the trees.
“What’s going on over here?” Mike, the effective leader of the village, pushed his way through the small group to see the issue. “What happened here? Did Joe do this to you?”
“Naw,” said Ethan. “Joe’s dead. The Spotties killed him.”
Mike frowned. “What Spotties?”
Ethan pointed back to the woods again. “There’s an army of them. They killed Joe.”
This made the group more nervous, but Mike didn’t have a lot of confidence in Ethan or Joe. “Alright,” Ethan growled, “start from the beginning.”
“Well, me and Joe was headed over to the fire when we saw That Thing. We was afraid she might have the Cough, so we thought we should catch her for quarantine. She saw us and ran off into the woods. We almost caught her when they ambushed us.
“Joe was in front of me and he just fell down. I figured he tripped until I saw the arrows. That’s when I saw all those Spotties; there must have been a hundred of them. They all had bows pointed at me.” He paused to catch his breath and noticed that the group was paying attention to him.
“There was one, must have been the leader. That one tells me they are letting me go to take a message back. They told me to tell everybody that the Spotties are coming for us.”
This sent a ripple of concern through the group with mutterings and worried expressions.
Ethan continued his tale, “I made it back all the way here when they shot me. I don’t know why they shot me. I didn’t even see them. They could still be in the trees there for all I know.”
A couple of the bystanders who had children present pulled their kids closer. A couple of others began to back away from the group and toward the buildings. The others just stared into the darkness of the treeline for signs of arrows.
Mike turned to a lean fellow in a green jacket. “Zack, get some travel supplies and get over to New Chicago as fast as you can. Tell them we got an army of Spotties threatening us and we should probably all band together to end this before it’s a real problem.”
Zach nodded and ran back to the buildings.
Mike turned to Tyler. “Tyler, as soon as you get Ethan patched up, you take the same message to Wood Hill. Maybe they can send some people too.”
Ethan smiled a little. “That’ll show those freaks. We can get rid of them once and for all. Make them pay for what they did to Joe and me.”
Mike reached down and slapped Ethan hard across the head. “You idiot. If you and Joe had left That Thing alone like we told you, Joe would be alive and we wouldn’t have any of this trouble. But no, you two had to feel important so you harassed the only person in a worse position than you. We should have run you two off a long time ago.”
Mike turned and walked away.
In a Tent
The girl awoke to find that she was in a tent and covered with a blanket. It was still dark out.
There were people moving around outside.
She sat up slowly and looked out through the front of the tent. She could see a couple of fires and other tents around. Some people walked around the camp.
“Feeling better?” asked a voice.
She turned to see that there was someone in the tent with her. It was too dark to know who.
“Like I said back in the woods, my name is Nancy.”
The girl seemed to remember something about that, but it was still a blur.
Nancy continued, “You were being chased by those two men. They can’t hurt you anymore. You are in a safe place now, among your own kind.”
The girl let that settle in. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t have a kind and there was no such thing as safety.
“What’s your name?” Nancy asked.
“Um,” answered the girl, “they call me That Thing.”
Nancy paused for a moment, not sure how to proceed. Names were delicate matters. “That’s not really a good name. Don’t you have a different name?”
“That’s the only name anybody’s ever called me,” answered the girl.
“Okay,” said Nancy, “Do you want a different name? You can pick any name you want.”
“It’s the name I have,” said That Thing.
The name was settled, at least for the moment.
Someone came in with a bowl and a cup and set them in front of That Thing. Nancy nodded approval.
“We thought you might be hungry or thirsty. Here’s some food and water. Why don’t you eat and tell me your story? Where you from?”
“I lived a little ways from here with Grandma Grace. She always protected me.”
“Is your grandma safe? Do we need to go get her?” asked Nancy.
That Thing stopped eating and slumped over. After a moment, her shoulders shook and it was obvious she was crying.
Nancy moved closer and put her hand on That Thing’s back.
Crying was sometimes healthy, especially for someone who was just rescued. In this case, the long minutes of sobbing showed a need to release a weighty burden carried for years. There was a hint of something more, but Nancy didn’t want to pry; that could wait until the sobbing was done.
“Grandma Grace,” That Thing got out as the crying slowed, “Grandma Grace died of The Cough yesterday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She, she, she told me to hide in the woods because she couldn’t protect me anymore. So I went to the woods.”
Nancy shook her head in sadness. “It sounds like your grandma was a very good woman.”
That Thing took a couple of deep breaths to try to recover the air. Then she swallowed hard. “Grandma Grace wasn’t my grandma. That’s just what everybody called her. She was there before the village. People came around and she just helped everybody. She found me when I was really little and wandering around in the fields. She was just a good person.”
“Well,” said Nancy, “Those two guys from the village won’t bother you anymore and, if the little one got the message back, none of the others will either.”
That Thing shoved more food in her mouth while nodding.
“You finish eating and then get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. You will be safe here.” Nancy moved to leave the tent. “I have to go make sure everything is as it should be. I’ll check in on you in a little bit.”
The Morning After
That Thing woke to the sounds of a busy camp. Looking outside her tent, she saw that the camp was much larger than it appeared the night before. Nestled in a steep valley filled with trees, different colored tents extended off quite a ways. The whole thing was almost as big as the village around Grandma Grace’s farm.
People ran around the camp, mostly cooking breakfast. The scent of fires and food drifted across the air. That Thing thought it odd that the smell didn’t make her hungry, and then she remembered the soup from the night before. Grandma Grace always tried to feed her, as long as there was food around.
The people she saw were all like her. They were small and their skin showed spots of different colors. Unspotted people she had always known came in different colors, but generally just one color per person. They had a range of different browns, some so light to almost glow white in the sun. The spotted people of the camp had all those colors, plus the gray spots. It looked like some of them even had spots in the different brown colors.
One of the people near her turned and saw her. “Hey, you’re awake!” the person said.
That Thing recognized the voice as Nancy from the night before. Being shy, or scared, That Thing only waved a little.
“Come on over,” Nancy said. She waved her hand to beckon That Thing over. We’ve got some breakfast almost ready and you can meet some people.”
Despite the urge to hide or run, That Thing crawled out of the tent and went to the fire. Several other people waited there.
Nancy directed That Thing to a stump to sit on, then she started the introductions. “These are my friends. That’s Tom putting more wood on the fire. Juanita’s stirring the eggs. And the last guy is Oak; he’s nice but a bit quiet.”
They all smiled at her.
“Everybody,” Nancy continued, “this is the girl we rescued last night. She goes by the name ‘That Thing’.”
The name seemed to catch everybody off guard, each giving a concerned look. It was known that the Plainos often gave derogatory names to the spotted ones. Some spotted people wore the names as a badge of defiance, owning the name and making it their own. Others, like Oak, got rid of the name as soon as they could and picked a new one. A few though, ones who seemed extra damaged, kept the name because it reminded them that they had no value, just like they had been told all their life.
Nancy saw the reactions and chose to intervene before anyone said something. “She’s just now joined us here and will take some time to get used to the situation. If she chooses to use a different name later, we will go with it at that time. We all got our story.”
The others realized what they had been doing. Tom and Juanita looked away, back at their tasks. Oak looked to That Thing and said, “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Within a few minutes, breakfast was ready. The four of them sat around the fire and ate from rough metal plates.
Tom motioned toward That Thing and asked Nancy, “Do you think we’ll see any more of her friends?”
Nancy shook her head. “Naw, we sent them a message. By now, they know better than to mess with us.”
Juanita said, “Let’s hope that’s the message they got. Maybe they got the message that we’re a threat and that they need to get some friends of their own to hunt us down.”
“That’s possible,” Nancy responded, “but we’re about to get some friends of our own. That Silus guy’s messenger will hook us up with his big group. If that pans out, we’ll be a big enough army, the Plainos won’t think twice about bothering us.”
Things were changing fast, so the That Thing’s question blurted out before she could stop it. “Who is Silus?”
Nancy perked up at the chance to explain it again. “Silus is the leader of this large group of people like us. He says our spots were caused by Storm and that they are meant to be. He thinks the Plainos are just the leftovers of the people from before the Storm and that they will die out on their own. He says it’s our job to rebuild the world the way the Storm wanted it.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “The Storm was just a big storm; an accident caused by some technology from before. It didn’t ‘intend’ anything, it was just a storm. We have spots because of all the poisons blown around.”
“Of course the Storm didn’t have any intentions of its own,” Nancy rebutted, “It was just an instrument. Silus says it was an act of God; it was God in the Storm and we are the chosen ones.”
That Thing listened. She had heard people argue about the Storm and God and everything else. Her new people seemed to disagree about things just as much as the non-spotted people did. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
Oak and Juanita started gathering the dishes for cleaning. Juanita added, “I guess we will know more when Silus’ messenger gets here.”