The Sands of Borrowed Time Read online

  Aveline noticed a small cloud of dust off road, way out in the distance. The recent rain had cleared the air and dampened down the dirt, so this must be something ripping through the soil, she thought, at breakneck speed. She slowed and grabbed her binoculars from her bag. The magnification was not much help in identifying the culprit. However, it was some vehicle, the way the dust was left behind in a snaking trail. She kicked down a couple of gears, slowly coming to a stop on the verge of the road. The Sun was blazing in the clear air. She could begin to feel her skin starting to burn. There was a loud crack, and a stream of smoke rose high into the sky. It came from ahead, from the dusty disturbance. She watched as it rose swiftly into the blue sky, and then when it was directly above her, it exploded into a bright burst of light. It looked sinister, yet beautiful, she thought, watching the stream of light hang in the air. She looked around as she heard the sound of engines thundering up the road behind her. It was a signal, she thought; someone had seen her and was telling others where she was.

  "Fuck!” Aveline yelled out. "Fuck! Shit!" Things were happening fast. They were coming from both directions and straight for her, she guessed. However, she was not so keen to stay around to find out. She sped off, her back wheel spinning, leaving a dark line of liquid rubber on the road. Ahead, what looked like an armoured buggy came flying towards her at full pelt. There were flashes of light as guns on either side of its windscreen fired towards her. She reached down and fired back, a bullet hitting the front grill, sending metal shrapnel all across the road. The car looked like it was going to hit her head on, still firing shots, but swerved at the last moment, whizzing past her at frightening speed. She was surprised to be alive. She could see the buggy screech to a stop and spin around in her side mirrors, its shell shuddering on its soft suspension. She kicked down a gear and fully opened the throttle until the engine was screaming, then flicking it up a gear again until the bike was flying at a steady ton, the fastest she has ever taken the bike. She was happy that the engine sounded quite relaxed at this speed and probably still had plenty of guts to do more. The buggy behind could not catch her, but she could see a bike gaining, a motorcycle not unlike her Harley V-Rod. The bike had a low centre of gravity with high, narrow handlebars and super fat tyres. She lowered her left arm and fired the rear-facing gun. It missed. The chasing bike was now beside her. The rider was a female, with long matted, blond hair that had bleached to pure white in the Sun. It billowed violently in the wind. She wore no glasses, her eyes a dark, mysterious blue. She looked across expressionlessly as Aveline stared back, trying not to show any fear. The rider had olive skin that had dried and aged from too much sunlight. Nevertheless, Aveline thought she looked good for her age, but could tell she was a fucking bitch, no less. Aveline felt it difficult to breathe from the speed and nerves. The girl beckoned her to stop, pointing to the side of the road, struggling to keep her arm pointing forwards as the wind rattled her shirt. Aveline went for her gun, and as she did, the girl swung her bike right up close to Aveline’s and tried to grab her arm. Aveline swerved away and pulled back on the throttle, gaining some pace. The blonde, however, was quickly back up with her, her bike’s pistons humming gracefully. She looked so calm and relaxed as she glanced over, staring her straight in the eyes, perhaps with a subtle, scathing sneer. Aveline felt that she was no match, both in beauty and as a fighter, but wasn't willing to submit. She went for her gun once more as the blonde tried the same move again, but was too slow this time, braking hard to avoid the blast from Aveline's weapon. The bike disappeared from Aveline’s view in her side mirrors as her adversary came up close behind her; very close. Aveline tried to swerve, but the rider was quick in matching her. It came down so fast around her that Aveline had no time to realise what was happening. She felt a rope tighten around her waist, pulling firmly on her as she started to slide backwards on her seat. She tightened her grip on the handlebars but kept slipping back, her arse almost on the rear wheel, her feet falling free from their rests. She braked hard with her right hand, able to regain some composure but the pull on her was still strong. The rope was getting painfully tight around her waist. She struggled to hold onto the handlebars, desperately gripping as tight as she could, but her hands were slipping. Then she felt everything loosen up as she saw the blonde girl stream past to her right, the rope around her waist locked onto her bike. She saw her right leg kick down as she squeezed the clutch in with her left hand. The bike screamed and roared forward. Aveline let out a scream, but not before seeing the blonde's sly smile of victory as she rolled over the handlebars, walloping the road with her ass, then her head, sliding down the road until coming to a grinding halt, watching her beloved bike somersault and disintegrate into a ball of flames behind her. Aveline looked up into the sky, feeling unable to move and defeated. There was pain in her back and head. Her cheek had split open, feeling numb and sore. She held her hands over her eyes to shield them from the blinding sunlight. She lay there for some time, writhing from the pain in her back, before feeling a shadow fall across her. She removed her hands from over her eyes and looked up. There she was, looking down at her, her smile even more pronounced. There were brown and gold streaks in her blue eyes, she noticed, and soon she could hear more vehicles approaching. The blonde-haired woman remained silent. The vehicles came to a stop close by, and she heard the clunks of doors opening. Soon there was a group of men and women looking down at her.

  "Put her in the van," a man said calmly. She could smell his sweat as he gazed down sternly at her. She feebly spat blood from her mouth as it bubbled out over her face. She felt exhausted. "Give her some water," he continued in a soft, almost caring tone, "but not too much."

  As he walked away, he paused, then looked around at Aveline, "And restrain her, she looks a feisty one."

  He opened the car door, got in, but before closing it continued in a more animated, raised voice, "Clean her up. Let her sleep and bring her to me in the morning.” The door closed, and the car drove off down the highway until it could be heard no more.

  Girl Talk

  The darkness at each turn was consuming as droplets fell from the shadows above, their constant dripping instilling a feeling of anxiousness and despair. It was difficult at first to see through the shadowy darkness, but the more you looked, the more you could see, and the more defined they became, almost as if the mind had created them itself. They looked anxious; their faces contorted with fear and anguish, their pink and grey bodies perspiring with a rancid, salty smell. The figures were almost human looking but perhaps more devolved; happy souls that had been corrupted into shadows of the men they possibly once were. They ran frantically through the dark, narrow corridors, lit dimly by flickering candles that were hanging from damp, grey ceilings. Water dripped into dirty, stagnant pools on the cold floor below, each drip and drop echoing along the otherwise silent corridors. As they ran, faster and faster, through each turn of the passageways, the being’s hearts beat harder as each new route revealed the same; long and dark corridors. Each disappeared into obscurity as the gloom swallowed them up. It was darkness with no end; the dark pit of infinity. Their hearts drummed through their thin, translucent chests, audible in their heads as the blood rushed through their oxygen-starved brains. They looked desperate to find a way out of this deceptive maze, frantically running back and forth through the corridors, looking at each other for hope, but they found none; the pupils of their eyes now fully dilated with fear and despair. Some had given up, standing still with their hands on their heads, screaming like they had lost their minds, their heads turning slowly upwards as if to find peace from heaven, but there was none, just the pit of darkness reflecting in their sorrowful eyes. Tormented screams screeched through their lips. It was a sound that you would never forget, a sound that you could feel as well as hear; the sound one makes when one knows their soul has been lost, and the darkness and despair that is left will last for eternity. There were dozens of beings, and many had given up. Those that were not standi
ng were sitting, their backs against the walls, their heads bowed with each hand holding either cheek, elbows on their rough, bent knees, looking aimlessly into the pools of water, finding no solace in their sad reflections. The darkness of their souls appeared to bleed from their eyes. The remaining continued scurrying around the corridors, running faster and faster with each step, bumping off the walls, their muscles on autopilot as the neurones in their brains became frozen from the continued despair. Then, there it was, just like that, a glimmer of hope. In the depth of the darkness, far away in the receding distance of a corridor, there was a speck of light. It was just a pinhole of light; nevertheless, a light that was alive, full of hope and meaning. Only one being saw it, and felt its warmth instantly; not just the warmth on its skin but the warmth of humanity flowing through its veins. The being initially stood still in awe. What they had been searching for, for so long, was finally in front of it. The others sensed something. Those near him saw the change in his face; the contortions were gone, it's expression relaxed and peaceful. The light flooded in quickly as the being raced towards it, not believing it was true until he had arrived in its brilliance that was more blinding than the darkness he had travelled through for so long. The being smiled, it's mind at peace as the light thawed its body, bathing in its essence. The light was brilliant, blinding, and consuming. The being became a silhouette, its arms wide open as if welcoming a long lost friend. Then the being was gone, and with it, the light too, leaving total darkness. The other beings tried to follow, but they knew it was too late. The torment in their minds bled through onto their faces, now twisted in horror as they were buried again in the darkness around them. The game was up, their time was over, and gates thundered down at each turn of the corridors producing a rush of dusty air that extinguished all the candles, the only remaining light. Wisps of dark smoke rose from the executed flames, unseen in the perpetual darkness. The remaining beings were lost forever, consumed by the nothingness, their screams echoing for eternity in the records of time.

  Kyla awoke abruptly from her nightmare, hot sweat running down her back. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her nerves on edge. She slipped out of her blanket and walked outside, feeling a little better as the fresh mountain air filled her lungs. She sighed as she saw Carla walk towards her.

  From one nightmare to another, she thought apprehensively.

  “So Kyla, how are we today? You're looking a bit pale, if you don't mind me saying,” Carla remarked as she looked down at Kyla’s youthful face, wondering why the boys found her so pretty.

  Her vulnerability, she thought. Her feebleness shines out from that tormented mind; so obvious. Yes, the guys like that, a damsel in distress, ready to be rescued for a good plucking. Carla ran her hand through Kyla’s thick, blonde hair, pulling it between her fingers. Kyla retracted with repulsion at her rough touch, squirming under that demented smile.

  “Tired,” she quietly replied, not really in the mood to chat, especially with Carla. She looked up into her eyes, their glassy gaze, dark and empty.

  The wicked witch of the prairies has come for a good sniff, looking on form for a good slanging; her eyes so dark and lonesome, her humanity bleached away for sure, her soul tired of this existence. All that’s left for her to do in life is to destroy the will and hope of others. Born to bitch, she has made it a form of art.

  “Tired? But why? The day is so young and so are you,” Carla replied. Kyla shrugged her shoulders, making it obvious that she wanted to be left alone. “Come, tell me, what’s on your mind?” Carla continued, enjoying Kyla's sense of unease.

  That smile, like a predator ready to play with its prey, Kyla mused, but she'll get bitten herself if she keeps pushing.

  “Not shy, are we?” Carla teased scornfully, breaking out into an annoying cackle.

  It looks like I have no choice, let's play her fucking, twisted game. Kyla sighed.

  “I dream too much I suppose. It interferes with any decent sleep,” Kyla replied, pretending to be timid as she looked south across the plains, avoiding Carla's eyes.

  “Tell me; dreams can be very informative. They say they're the yearnings of an unsatisfied soul.”

  “Informative for sure, they are, although more the warnings from a wise soul than an unsatisfied one.”

  “And whose wise soul is that? Not yours, for sure? Your experience of the world is still a little spark ready to be kindled, although I doubt the fire will climb high.”

  Carla caught Kyla’s eyes before focusing her attention on her small breasts, mocking them with a gloating sneer.

  Not even a mouthful, never mind a handful. The boys will be disappointed. I’m beginning to feel sorry for them already.

  “For sure, these dreams are not coming from within me, but from a soul that rages fire from its breath.”

  “Oh really, and what does this wise old soul with bad breath have to say.”

  “That change is coming, and coming fast.”

  “He’s a bit behind the times, change came a while back, but he was right about it coming fast.”

  This is going to be tough, Kyla thought.

  “I saw a tall flower; bent, its petals falling to the ground. A young, colourful flower was beginning to bloom in its place, slowly strangling the tall one until it withered away to dust,” Kyla stated, this time giving a subtle sneer, looking at Carla's sagging breasts, clocking a micro expression of unease from her as she blinked a little too hard. Kyla gave a quiet titter as she looked back into Carla's shaken eyes.

  “Sounds like your dream mate is lost in the romance of life,” Carla responded, appearing weakened.

  “You know, he could be. The new flower looks more beautiful, powerful in its presence, radiating a sense of joy.”

  Carla narrowed her eyes, “Really now, but remember some flowers are just weeds, a nuisance in the garden, to be pulled out by its roots and left to rot.”

  “Not this one, it grows every night I fall asleep, its petals unfolding, touching the smaller ones that grow in its shadow, encouraging them upwards until they bloom themselves.”

  “Remember, a garden needs shit to grow. The more shit, the better, in fact.”

  “There will be a lot of shit for sure, stamped good and hard, deep into the ground. Good shit, bad shit, it doesn’t matter because when it hits the ground, it becomes the same. Shit! Kyla exclaimed, her pupils dilating, “And out of the shit will grow a better garden that will feed the World into a new age.”

  “What's all this girly chat about ladies,” Cain interrupted, still looking half-asleep as he wandered over, rubbing his eyes.

  “Kyla was just giving me some gardening tips,” Carla quickly replied, reasserting her theatrical smile.

  “Oh really, Kyla,” Cain laughed, “you're not going to get a garden growing around here.”

  “We’ll see,” Kyla replied with a knowing wink as Cain looked at them both with suspicion in his pale blue eyes.

  “On a more important note, have you girls heard about this ship that has run aground up by White Sands?”

  “Ship, what ship?” Carla replied, enjoying the relief from her girly chat with Kyla.

  “Bayliss mentioned a ship, a cargo ship, full to the brim, stuck in the cove waiting to be plundered.”

  “Really, then we must go quickly. As soon as possible in fact, otherwise, they will be queuing to get on,” Carla suggested. “I bet bandits, and those types are already there, making it their second home, their greasy fingerprints all over the woodwork.”

  “That’s if they’ve seen it,” Bayliss said.

  “It’s not visible from the road,” Cain added while rolling a dead twig between his front teeth.

  “We should go at night,” Kyla suggested as she stood up.

  “Why, we wouldn’t be able to see fuck all,” Carla quickly objected.

  “I think they call it the cover of darkness,” Kyla interrupted as Carla narrowed her eyes.

  “Good call, young Kyla, maybe we should go as soon as
possible, like tonight, before those grease heads take what's ours,” Cain said, giving her a gentle pat on the head.

  Kyla twirled with excitement, shuffling her feet in the sand, speaking excitedly. “Lanterns would illuminate our way around the ship, to see what's there. We just douse the flame if others come and let the darkness protect us.

  “Yes, the cover of darkness would be of great help,” Cain replied.

  “What! They'll have lanterns of their own. Anyhow, your little white face will stick out a mile in the darkness, lanterns or not,” Carla interrupted, folding her arms as she looked at Kyla with scorn. “Besides, why would we take you, this is a job for the boys, the grown-ups.”

  Cain laughed, “Come now girls. This will be a team effort, for the large and small. Let's see who has the balls to join us; male, female or otherwise.” Cain continued to cackle, enjoying his little joke as he looked at the girls, Carla's annoyed face, preferring though the enthusiasm in Kyla’s as her lips quivered with anticipation.

  Cain caught Jeff in the corner of his eye, turning quickly to call him over, “Jeff, you got any balls?” Jeff stopped in his tracks, looking bewildered.