ONE

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The speed with which the ground was approaching startled the boy as he fell, face first towards the pavement. Throwing his hands down to break his fall, he felt a jolt through his wrists and he cringed. Catching his full weight he wondered if the action would prove to be more costly than beneficial. A tingling sensation ran through his hands, convening in his fingertips for just a moment too long. Straightening his arms, he pushed himself up from his position parallel to the ground and paused for just a moment to breathe away the pain of the impact. He had not intended to let the situation get so out of control but he had been caught unawares.

     

‘Get up,’ said the instigator of the assault. A boy three years his senior had been trying to find an excuse to assert his authority for weeks but until that moment, he hadn’t been given the opportunity.

     

Purposefully rising to his feet, the younger of the two locked his steely dark eyes on his assailant and smiled a wicked smile void of congeniality. Straightening to his full height, his black hair hung over his eyes, adding to his menacing posture as the muscles in his jaw tightened. His arms remained rigid by his sides but his fists were balled, the only true sign of his anger. Dark brown eyes, usually alight with a boyish glint, fixed on his opponent, a short stocky boy with brown hair and a pinched face.

     

‘I’m up,’ said the younger of the two, barely keeping his anger in check.

       

‘Not for long.’ Displeased by his ability to return to his feet, the stocky boy allowed his temper to get the better of him. He stepped towards his younger counterpart and immediately balled his fist, throwing it at his face.

     

Dancing out of the way, the usually flighty youngster focused all of his attention on ending the fight. He lashed out with a powerful uppercut that caught his antagonist on the chin, rendering him unconscious before he even hit the ground. The boys that surrounded them cheered, despite the fact their friend was on the pavement, and as they checked to make sure he was still breathing, the victor slinked away from the commotion, making his escape.

     

‘Man, you just got knocked out by a twelve year old… how does that make you feel?’ He heard one of the onlookers laugh as the boy started to come to.

     

Kicking a trash can as he made his way through an alley that would eventually lead him home, the thirteen year old scowled at their underestimation of his age. He was taller than most of them—who were sixteen or older—and clearly stronger, yet they still looked at him as little more than a child. He wondered just how many more times he would have to fight to prove them wrong. Lost in his thoughts he walked through the town, hoping he’d make it back to the reservation before dark. Time had slipped away and he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t get home soon.

     

The boys weren’t the only ones who treated him like a child. His mother babied him incessantly, despite his having learned everything his father and his grandfather could teach him before they both passed away shortly after his tenth birthday. For three years, his mother and grandmother had tried to keep him focused on learning—what they referred to as “the finer points of hunting”—from the other men on the reservation but not one of them had been able to contribute to his education. They told him things he already knew and they didn’t appreciate his ability to flawlessly execute tasks they still had difficulty with. He could hunt and track, he could fight better than anyone he’d come across and—thanks to the women in his life—he could cook and sew almost as well; and he was bored.

     

Picking up his feet, he began to run as he made it to the outskirts of Billings. Though small, it was the biggest city in Montana but in almost every other state it would have lucky to be classified as anything more than a large town. It was relatively isolated, which had been one of the few things that saved them from the first serious assault on US soil; the bombings of 2065. As a small child, his grandmother had told him that the war had started over fifty years before he was born and that it would rage until man destroyed one another. He didn’t doubt the truth of that. In his short life, he had seen much and it made him wonder if the destruction of mankind would be a bad thing.

     

Though Billings was a small city and had avoided the worst of the assaults they had been subjected to a total of three air raids, the first of which had come a year before the bombings in 2064. It was that attack that had been responsible for the deaths of his father and grandfather. The two men had lingered in the house to ensure everyone they cared for had safely made it to the shelter, and when they were certain everyone was safe, the pair had run for cover, being shot down as they fled. Only ten years old, the boy had raced into the shelter and turned in time to see both of them fall face first into the dirt. It was an image that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

     

Forcing his wandering thoughts to return to the present, he marked his position and increased his pace. His mother wasn’t going to be happy. In a couple of minutes the sun would be behind the mountains and after a couple more, the sky would be dark; and he still had three miles to go. It was summer and the days were longer, but once the sun started its descent, it didn’t take long for the darkness to wash over the land. Taking a deep breath, he put his head down and sprinted across the uneven and shadowy terrain. As the last traces of light were leaving the sky, he could see his home on the horizon and he pressed on, willing himself to make it inside the door before his mother had a chance to notice that it was dark and he was not home.

     

Covering the last few steps, he paused, took a deep breath to compose himself—regardless of the fact that the sweat that matted his hair to his head was a dead giveaway he’d been running—and entered the house. He looked around, expecting to see his mother in the kitchen and his grandmother by her side but he saw no one.

     

A frown creased his brow as he moved into the hallway, listening for any indication of where they might be. Upstairs, he heard a soft shuffling sound that he recognized; his grandmother’s footsteps coming from within his mother’s bedroom. Taking the stairs three at a time—his long legs capable of doing four—he made it up in no time and was knocking lightly on his mother’s door in seconds.

     

‘Mom?’ he asked softly as he slowly pushed his way inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the soft light that was emanating from the lantern by her bed. The war had seen the increase in household costs rise exponentially and after losing two incomes, they had been forced to cut back where they could. He found his mother sitting in bed, tucked in securely, propped up by pillows. She looked pale. Even in the golden light of the lantern her naturally tanned complexion looked pallid and her long black hair, usually so straight and shiny, was ragged and tangled.

     

His grandmother was pouring her a glass of water from a pitcher sitting on the sideboard. Her long gray hair was pulled into twin braids, a style she had worn every day of his life.

     

‘Adam.’ His mother smiled softly and extended her hand, bidding him to come to her.

     

‘What’s going on?’ he asked as he placed his hand in hers, searching her eyes that matched his own in hue. ‘Are you sick?’

     

‘Just a cold, I’ll be fine,’ she said dismissively as she gripped his hand. Her fingers brushed over his skinned knuckles and she looked at the wounds critically. ‘You’ve been fighting again.’

     

‘I didn’t start it,’ Adam assured her.

     

‘But I bet you finished it,’ his grandmother interjected happily. ‘Who was it this time?’

     

Adam looked down. ‘I don’t know. Just some city boy.’

     

‘How old?’ The little woman’s equally dark eyes were alight and her tone a little too appreciative.

     

‘Red Wing!’ scolded Adam’s mother. ‘You could at least pretend to disapprove.’

     

‘Why? The boy is strong, we should be thankful.’ She turned her ancient eyes on her grandson once more. ‘Well? How old was he?’

     

Adam shrugged. ‘Sixteen? I’m not sure.’

     

Red Wing laughed merrily, the skin around her eyes forming deep creases. ‘Sixteen! I bet he was pretty angry when you beat him.’

     

‘I couldn’t say. I left before he came to.’ Adam’s mother groaned and Red Wing’s laughter reached a frenzied pitch.

     

It took a few moments before she was able to calm herself. ‘You’re just like your father.’

     

Adam grinned broadly before he turned serious. ‘I’ll go fix something for dinner.’ He loosened his mothers hold on him and exited the room, making for the kitchen. He had done no more than gather the pots and set to boiling the water for the vegetables when his grandmother joined him. She stood beside him at the bench, peeling potatoes in silence for a short while but when she spoke, her tone conveyed her concern.

     

‘It’s more than a cold, boy.’

     

‘I know,’ he said sadly and continued to peel. His mother’s grip on his hand had been weak and though she tried to hide it, he could tell she was exhausted. He wondered what kind of ailment could hit her so hard and fast. She had seemed a little off color when he’d last seen her, over dinner the night before but now, she seemed greatly diminished.

     

‘She’s been sick for a long time and made me promise not to tell you, but things have been getting worse.’ Red Wing stopped what she was doing and looked her grandson in the face. ‘She’s dying, Shadow Hawk.’

     

Tightening his jaw, the boy nodded. His eyes filled with moisture and he took a deep breath. He had not expected to hear those words, he wasn’t ready to lose her but the last thing he wanted was for her to suffer. Deep inside he knew that when she left him, he would be sad for a long time.

     

Two weeks from that night, his mother drifted off to sleep and did not wake. The people on the reservation gathered to farewell her, singing the ancient songs that would guide her to the spirit world. Adam could not recall a day he had ever felt so alone. One by one, the people he loved were being taken from him and he was powerless to stop it. Red Wing had told him that his mother had died of a broken heart, that the loss of his father had eaten away at her and after three years of constant mourning, her body had given up the fight. He wasn’t sure if he believed it was possible to die from loving someone but it was the only explanation told to him so he accepted it.

     

Sleep rapidly became an important part of Adam’s life. He spent at least fifteen hours a day lost in dreams that were far more enjoyable than his reality and as he opened his eyes after a particularly long slumber two months after saying goodbye to his mother, he was greeted by Red Wing’s face looming over him.

     

‘You’re still alive then,’ the old woman’s tone was void of humor.

     

‘Go away.’ Adam rolled over.

     

‘No. Get up, we’re leaving.’

   

‘What?’

    

‘We’re leaving this place. It’s not good for you to be here.’

     

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

     

Red Wind smiled humorlessly. ‘Yes; you are. I’ve packed what you’ll need. We’re leaving in an hour.’

     

‘Well how long will we be gone?’ asked the irritated boy.

     

‘As long as we need to be, now get up.’ Her words were final and she huffed out of his room, her old feet pattering lightly on the stairs as she cautiously descended them. She was nothing if not stubborn and it seemed she had definitely made up her mind.

     

Adam sighed, unsure if he fully understood what she had said and decided it might be best to join her downstairs. Wearing pajama bottoms he had long outgrown, their cuffs sitting over three inches above his ankles, he looked a comical sight to the old woman who waited for him in the kitchen. His unkempt hair was hanging in his face and he scratched his head sleepily. Red Wing smiled. He was far too important to just leave to rot in the place his parents had died and it was her job, as his last living relative, to make sure he didn’t follow in his mother’s footsteps. Red Wing nodded to herself as she appraised him. He was old enough; it was time for him to learn about behaving like a man.

     

‘Where are we going?’ he asked, heading toward the fridge.

     

‘Anywhere, everywhere, it doesn’t matter. I think we’ll head south.’

     

Adam pulled on the fridge door to find it empty. ‘Where’s all the food?’

     

‘I gave it away. Like I said, we’re leaving in an hour, can’t very well leave the food to rot.’ Red Wing tossed him an apple. ‘This will have to do until lunchtime.’

     

Adam caught the piece of fruit and looked around his home. The furniture had been covered with sheets and there were boxes everywhere. He frowned. Surely his grandmother couldn’t have done all this since last night!

     

‘What’s going to happen with all this stuff?’ he asked while taking a bite of his breakfast.

     

‘It’s been taken care of. Come on, finish your apple then get dressed. We have a lot of ground to cover and I’m not getting any younger.’

     

The boy sighed and went back to his room to find some clothes. On the floor in front of his wardrobe he found a pack with most of his garments inside. There was a T-shirt and a pair of utility pants left out but everything that still fitted him had been crammed into the pack. He wondered how he had slept through Red Wing ransacking his closet and shrugged it off. If there had been another air raid, he couldn’t be sure he would have heard it, one little old lady going through his belongings seemed like the sound of a butterfly’s wings in comparison.

               

He quickly dressed and returned to the kitchen with little thought—most of his days recently had come and gone with little thought. It seemed the only way to numb the pain was to block everything out and just shut down, he thought it likely that was the reason he could sleep so long. With a resigned sigh, he looked at his room, knowing that if Red Wing had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t make it back there any time soon.

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