A Nomad's Song

A Nomad’s Song

By Michael Castillo

June 28th 2021

It started for you like it does for everyone who hears the song. First their eyes burned orange like the fiery tendrils which cracked the ashen clouds of the Mad Winter. Then their voices splintered like breaking glass.

First time I saw this happen was at the Folsom Lake compound where I had lived with my parents. I am the only person who survived from that place.

When I sensed the changes in you small pieces of my spirit fractured off my essence. I don’t know if I can live without the sweet tone of your voice or the brilliant glimmer of your dark brown eyes.

I told myself the changes were caused by the lack of food, water, and proper shelter so I did my best to be your shield against the elements. Whatever rations we gathered I made sure you were satisfied before I broke my fast. And for a time this seemed to quiet your restless spirit. Then came the visitors.

Upon their arrival the young couple, David and Andrea were better for us than all the others who had joined our cause. David’s youthful vigor aided me with hunting and fishing. His skills gave us deer, fish, and pheasant a big improvement over the rodents and insects we had subsisted on.

Andrea’s industrious nature improved our encampment immensely. She devised a way to capture the rancid rain water in cans, filter it through smaller containers until we had water that did not burn our throats after a few swallows. I hoped your voice’s melodic quality would return, but it only got worse.

For nine weeks we had enough to sustain us. Your eyes hadn’t turned nor did your voice get any more guttural. I allowed myself to hope we would be okay.

One night I looked up in the sky to see the clouds restrained giving me a clear view of Fornax. My father once told me of this group of stars representing a furnace, but he told me I would have to travel very far to the south to see it. A deep sense of foreboding encased my heart. Why can I see this far off sight when I am still in California?

The next day David and I were planning where we would hunt when the fire returned to your gaze. You wouldn’t draw near to us only remain in the shadows of the forest with your orange globes glaring as if with rage.

I finally coaxed you out of the shadows but regretted it when your angry mien drew close.

David seemed to sense your anger for he said, “would you like to join me on the hunt today, James?”

“That would do you some good, my love. Give you a chance to enjoy the wilderness. It’s been so long since you left the camp.” I had seen you act jealous before. Yet you have nothing to worry about. I could never be without you.

The first day you went out with David, you returned to the camp with a smile on your face.

Andrea spoke first. “Oh I am so glad to see your hunt was good. What did you bring us?”

A look of resignation came over David’s face. “We have nothing. I don’t know why he smiles. Hopefully tomorrow will bring us luck.”

This went on for five days, no food, no rain, no relief.

I tried to insert myself back into the hunt, but with a feral grin you insisted you needed one more day.

By noon the next day you returned without David, though you brought slabs of meat bound to the hunting pole. You told us a predator had killed David before you could kill it. Then you encouraged us to dine on the animal you killed.

Neither I nor Andrea believed you. As you gorged yourself on the meat, Andrea spat curses at you, called you a murder, and lifted a sharp stone to hurl at you.

With a dexterity I had never seen from you before, you sprang on her, pummeling her with the stone she intended to strike you with.

I tried to stop you but with one powerful shove, I found myself on my back several yards away.

Once I gathered my senses I rolled on to my hands and knees then hurried to where you knelt, straddling Andrea’s corpse with blood still spraying from her caved in skull.

You tilted your head until our eyes met. The corona filling your corneas dissipated until the only color in them was muddy brown. Shreds of the mysterious meat dangled from your teeth. Your lips curled up in a bitter grin. Then acidic chucks of meaty bile spewed from your mouth. A crazed howl came up from your stomach until you wretched for several minutes. You looked down at Andrea and wept. “Can’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?” I demanded. “I can hear her blood cry out against you. And the blood of David. What have you done to us?”

“I can’t hear it anymore.”

I clenched my teeth. “What are you talking about?”

“The song. You know, the song the Nomad sings when the clouds open.” A dazed look came over you. Then you collapsed.

I embrace you, Sobs rack your body while all strength seems to bleed out of you. I stand up and reach for a coarse string around your neck. I pull it over your head to reveal a heartshaped locket. “What’s this?”

“The Nomad gave it to me this morning. He says it keep me safe.”

I held it in my hand the gold paint had long ago faded away, yet it’s luster still holds me transfixed. I opened the locket and at first it appeared there was a picture in each side. But once my vision focused, two empty spaces stared back at me.

You pushed me away again, though this time more gently than before. A flash of steel turned your exposed neck into a fountain of blood. Your eyes looked peaceful for a second or two, then your eyes widened in horror. I grabbed you again with one arm around your waist while my free hand tried to stop the bleeding. Then your eyes were dark.

The sound of birds woke me up some time later. I do not know how long I was out, but your bloody neck stuck to my arm. I gagged as I pushed your head away your lifeless body rolled away from me. My body convulsed with anguish for a time I cannot measure.

When I finally sat up, my left hand throbbed. My fist had been clinched around an object. I unclasped my wrist to find the locket. I screamed when I saw your picture looking back at me from the left side.

***

“Look what I found mommy, a locket.” A black haired girl of eight years runs to where her mother sits by a smoldering campfire.

“Oh, Bella, that’s wonderful. Do you know what that is?”

The girl crinkled her nose. “Of course I do. It’s a locket.”

Her mother responded, “open it. See who is in there.”

Bella rubbed her fingers around the entire locket until she felt it pop. Then she opened it, looked in wide-eyed wonder at the pictures inside. “It’s a man and a woman. Why do they look so sad?”