Fiction logo

Heart of Iron

By Shyanne McClendon

By Shyanne McClendonPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
Like
Heart of Iron

I’m not sure this is what Kace had in mind when he gave me this locket. It arrived that June with a letter telling me to start going east, that something was happening. He said, in his words, that “the locket would be useful to me one day, maybe. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ll find a use for it.” I hadn’t believed him at the time. On any of it. No news was coming from the west (besides more wildfires), and the locket wasn’t even able to be used for a picture. It was iron, at least partially, a heart-shaped lattice work with a thin layer of plastic on the inside to hold whatever was inside. It almost looked like a cage, and I remember thinking it was stupid. It hung down way lower than I liked and wasn’t adjustable, the chain was thick and cold, and the pendant was unusually large. I thought it was clunky and didn’t wear it; there was no use at the time. That was my first mistake.

My second was not immediately leaving for as far west as I could go, as fast as I possibly could. Now, not only have I most likely lost Kace forever, but I am smack in the middle of a wasteland, surrounded by these… well, I call them Crypt-Keepers.

I remember Kace making me watch that episode of that stupid kid’s show, where the Crypt Keeper wasps were the main enemies. I didn’t want to admit how scared I was, but I had nightmares about them for days. These Crypt-Keepers are basically those creepy grey eyed mind-controlling freaks, but human shaped and everywhere. They may not be incredibly dangerous, as long as you stay out of sight, but the real threat isn’t being attacked. It’s being infected. Some days I think I’ve turned into one of them. I hesitate to pick up the necklace and put it on, scared of what will happen if it does start to make a rash. If my fear is confirmed. I wonder if I would even be able to think, if I was infected by whatever it was that made these things. But I put it on anyway, because there is no way I’m going outside without my lemon water necklace.

That’s their one weakness, these things. Lemon. I think it’s the acid in it. Even being near the smell will make them reel back, if only long enough for me to escape. The full-grown ones react more violently (and thank god for that or I’d be dead long ago) but they recover quicker, so I try to stay away from them. I discovered this when my mother turned. This was also when I discovered what was happening and, in short, doomed myself. She was making salmon for dinner, and she always used lemon on her salmon. This time, however, she didn’t. I noticed, and teased her about it, asking her if her poor teeth had just had enough. She joked along well enough, which I suppose should have been my first warning.

I think my first reaction was horror. Maybe terror for her. It was like she was shedding, like some kind of snake. Her skin turned red, like a rash, then just flaked off of her arm, starting where I had splashed her with lemon juice and spreading to her entire arm in seconds. She screamed, but it wasn’t her anymore, it was this horrible, misshapen exoskeleton that might have resembled mother-of-pearl, if it hadn’t been inside my mother. She tried to attack me, most likely in defense, but I was already up out of my seat and she- it was cradling the arm I had splashed. I panicked for a moment, and ran without thinking to the one place I knew was safe, a treehouse I had built without her knowing.

I saw her once more, later, though I only knew it was her because of the direction she came from. She was now completely covered in the exoskeleton, and her body almost resembled a Praying Mantis, but with an armored tail that clunked back and forth when she moved. I can only assume that after one in the nest ‘hatches’, the rest do as well, because soon there were hundreds, maybe thousands like this. Most of the people in my town were replaced by these creatures in a matter of days.

The woods quickly became my best friend, and my knowledge of them has served me well, both in getting around and in hiding those who haven’t been infected. My little iron-heart locket has been just as indispensable. I couldn’t just carry the huge bottle of lemon juice around, so I diluted it and poured a little in the locket whenever it splashed out enough. It took me a week or so to trust that it would keep me safe, but I suppose Kace was right. I did find a use for it.. The smell disguised me and kept me safe, and the lemon juice inside could be poured on anything that tried to attack me. Or, more commonly, anyone who I found outside. There were a surprising number of people that hadn’t been infected. We stay in the forest, and we have a little family of sorts now. We protect the young and old, and collect supplies for them when we can. But as of now, all we are doing is surviving.

There is a different problem with this, though. We are running out of supplies. Soon, even surviving will be a coin toss. It’s a small town here, and there are too many of us now. We can’t sustain everyone here. I’m taking some of the younger kids with me, but most people my age will stay and help those that can’t travel. If you’re reading this, then you have the locket now. Keep it safe. If you have any spare, well, anything, there’s a map in the box too. It will lead you to the camp. If not, or if you just don’t want to risk it, then keep moving on. Maybe you’ll see me one day, maybe not. I left the locket in hopes that you, whoever you are, will find Kace. If you do, thank him for me, will you? I’m travelling north, towards the big city. I hope to find food and medicine there, maybe some books. With most of the Crypt-Keepers gone, migrating on wherever they go, I hope you find safe travels. Maybe one day we can rebuild this broken world.

Best of luck (if you believe in that), Lucas.

Young Adult
Like

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.