Hans:
’Lija and I are going home. You really looked so happy sleeping here so we left you be. I left some gold. It’s not much, but it’ll tide you over. It’s in your helmet. Take care, buddy.
Hans frumped his shoulders. He really liked those two, and suddenly found himself completely alone in what had to be some different world. Then he remembered his conversation with Kairah that night, and how she was traveling to ‘the Velt.’ Hans didn’t know how to get to the Velt, but it was the one location where he at least knew someone. Actually, it was the only location he knew of at all.
His mind made up, Hans went about putting on his uniform and gear from the old world. Though his uniform was dirty and worn, it carried a certain familiarity. It was time to think about what he really needed.
Would he need that mess tin? There were no more rations, but he had no other utensils, so he hooked it to the back. Zeltbahn? He would need that tent. Helmet? He held it in his hand for a moment. Chances are there would be no need, but discarding it just seemed unfathomable. As for the rifle, heavy as it was, leaving that would be foolish.
Hans sighed as he looked at his wreath of heavy cartridges. This world seemed peaceful. Chances are he wouldn’t need the cartridges. Reluctantly, he placed them on the table.
Then there was that stupid gas mask. He never had to use it, and it was quite cumbersome. Parting with that was easy.
It was time to go. He strapped on his Mauser and tucked the dented helmet under his arm. But going down the stairs, his heart felt heavy. He turned around and looked at those cartridges. Leaving them felt like abandoning a comrade, or perhaps leaving a piece of himself. He probably wouldn’t need the damn things, but at the same time he wasn’t ready to part with them. Not after all they’d been through. Swallowing hard, Hans turned back, draped the cartridges around his shoulders, and trudged down the stairs feeling much less carefree than he did when he first awoke.
“Excuse me… sir… Can you tell me where is the Velt?”
From behind the desk, the ‘prairie dog’ shot him a suspicious glance.
“It’s a long ways to the south of here. Just take that road there.” He waved to the road as if to dismiss Hans, who thanked him, nodded, and turned around to march out. Outside there was a nervous, excited chatter that could be felt even within the inn’s walls.
A crowd had gathered on the sand-frosted, brick street, the only one in ‘Oasis.’ Prairie dog boys were jumping and pointing heavenward. Some mothers were quickly whisking their children to shelter. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, but Hans couldn’t really make out what the people were saying. None of them paid the exotic visitor any attention. They seemed to fixated on the sky.
Then a familiar, mechanical howl caught Hans’ attention. With hands over his brow to block the sun, Hans joined the gawking prairie dogs and looked heavenward to see a German fighter plane flying northward, right over the village, complete with the black cross on its side and stark swastika on its tail. Little girls squealed. The boys pointed and ‘wowed.’
“Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYYYYY!” Hans screamed in vain at the Messerschmitt. He turned on his heel and sprinted in the other direction after the lone German fighter in the sky.
Miao
Asril’s legs felt like rubber, but things could have been much worse. Since Aolom, she counted seven days on the road without incident. Still, the housecat feared running into one of the furres she stole from. The destination for her and the other refugees, for lack of another option, was a kingdom called ‘Miao,’ an irony not lost on the feline.
This land was more hilly than the lands before it, and a bit taxing on the cat’s short legs, but the soft sunshine and springlike weather welcomed any and all to this place. Small plots of wild rice fields, similar to those in her home, reminded her that she wasn’t too far away yet. Rice husks regularly lay on the fare way, waiting for carriages to come by and break up the grains so that farmers could save their labor. Scantly 5′ tall, Asril’s well traveled hindpaws would do little to crack the rice, but nevertheless she did what she could by walking over them, perhaps softening them up for passing carriages. She also noticed that many denizens, maybe even half, were those big, striped cats.
The border to this ‘Miao’ place was hardly a border. Just a booth with two guards, pikes raised skyward, standing at attention and looking straight. She heard a rumor that the post was overwhelmed by a throng of refugees just a few hours ago, and the guards were now freely allowing all to enter. If the kingdom’s soldiers couldn’t even stop a throng of desperate furres, how could it ever stand up to the monsters? She tried her best to shake away that thought.
Scaling a hill, Asril finally got a view of the city she had quested for: A sea of tiled roofs nestled together in a valley with a white-capped mountain looming in the distance. Two tall pagodas jutted out on either side of town. As she peered closer, Asril could see lime-washed adobes sheltered under the roofs. She scurried down the hill and along the road leading into this idyllic place that would be her home for the next few days.
Rows and columns of armored furres lined the entrance. Reflexively she jumped and turned to go back.
“Stop where you are, traveler! Come on forward.”
Now it all made sense. She felt her heart sink into her chest for a second. Maybe it was best for her journey to end here. Maybe these columns of soldiers could push back the monsters who were surely on their way already. One of the soldiers led her behind the line and placed her in a column of other dusty furres who carried what belongings they could. She asked the soldier where she was being taken but he didn’t answer. Still, this fate seemed better than the alternative. At least with this she’d be given food.
The crowd groaned and sighed when they saw their new home; and open-air camp that was already filled. The newcomers huddled into the pen’s boarded, wooden confines. Almost immediately Asril sensed danger.
Paws occasionally shoved at vulnerable cat as she walked through. Out of instinct she did her best to pad over toward one of the fenced edges, clinging to her suitcase as she did. After a few moments, the pushing hands turned into gropes, something the young cat had never been subjected to.
Asril hissed angrily as a hand squeezed over her breast through the fabric of her riding shirt. Soon she felt an adjacent furre rub against her flank. Embarrassment rushed to Asril’s cheeks. She tried her best to slink away, but there were people everywhere. In her vulnerability another male grasped the nape of her neck and that finally made her cry out. The housecat lowered her head and treaded her way to the edge of the camp, keeping her eyes closed as the mass of hands pawed and squeezed at her, unwilling to look at her own molestation.
Once she reached a wall, Asril was no longer able to fight back the tears. She set down her briefcase and hid her head, knees clutched to her body. Why were the furres in this pen doing this?
“Hey, um. Are you from Miamar?”
A boyish voice called out from above her. Asril looked up and saw a fellow housecat. His coloring was similar to her own.
Ausbruch
“Yeah I’m from Miamar,” Asril looked up at the male, wiping away a stray tear.
“Cool! Um, me and a few others from home are huddled together over there,” he said, pointing to a group of cats circled around a fire contained in a trashcan. Asril picked herself up and walked over to them.