[New Voices] Hooman Saga Book One - The Lazurai: Chapter 3

A NEW SERIAL CONTINUES. We meet the lone highway traveler. Her name is Rochelle. And she's very human. But her secret is deeper than the rumors have told...

LATE MORNING THAT DAY, he saw someone walking. Miles off yet. Coming toward him, along the edge of the road and staying off the pavement. Chuck could tell because the highway was laser straight for miles in both directions. You could hear anything coming when there was traffic. And then hear it going.

Walkers made no noise, and took a long time to get there. A long time to get gone.

"Well Mr. Lazurai, take your time. I'm in no hurry." Chuck said out loud to no one in particular.

He figured that this had to be a Lazurai as he was walking.

People told stories about them: they wouldn't always kill you right off. If they liked you, then you had a few days. The people that lived were cursed anyway, as anyone they knew would leave them alone after that. As what the Lazurai gave a person could also affect the other people around them. Big or small community, it didn't matter. Viruses spread.

Chuck didn't care. He would not leave Charlene and she would not leave her baby. So if this was the end, he was as ready as he would be.

By the time the walker was nearly in earshot, Chuck had finished off the rest of his lemonade and was ready for a refill. But he stayed on that bench in the shade and waited to meet this person.

His only real hope is that the end would be swift and painless. For everyone concerned.

The walker just kept coming. The dark hood of a jacket over its head. Dust covering its boots and lower half of its jeans. Hands in pockets. Like sunshine was bad for it. As cool as the day was, a dark jacket would make everything a lot hotter.

Chuck was in a gray t-shirt, faded jeans and his thick hunting boots. Denim cap on his head with a frayed visor finished the local look.

When the walker came up to the porch, a small breeze came up from the east. The smell of the venison in the slow cooker inside wafted out along with the barbecue sauce and the coffee Chuck had brewed that morning.

"Good morning. What can I do for you?" Chuck called out as carefully as he could, more out of habit than instinct.

The walker stopped before store's awning. Still standing in the sun. There was no reply.

Chuck simply waited. Watching. Nothing to do at this point.

After a voice-clearing cough, the walker at last said, "It is a good morning."

Chuck didn't reply, just smiled. Why he smiled was still probably out of habit.

"Why are you still here?" the walker asked.

"Nowhere to go."

"Most people just run off, even if they don't have anywhere to go."

"That's their choice, I guess."

"What made you choose to stay?"

"Wife's sick in back, and she won't leave her baby. So there's not any choice to it. I won't leave her."

The hooded head raised as the sound of the word baby. And a light face showed up at the edge of that hood.

"You have a baby?"

"Did. Buried out back."

"Sorry. For all of you."

Chuck paused at that. The sound of that 'sorry' was honest. "Not to seem rude, but why would a Lazurai be sorry about anything?"

"And you think I'm a Lazurai?"

"Well, I heard weeks ago that one was heading our way. And you're walking instead of driving. I could be wrong, but are you?"

"Some people call me that. The name I prefer is Rochelle."

"OK, Rochelle. That's a lot prettier. Won't you come in out of the sun?"

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Sure, but that's not going to make anything any easier. You might as well come up here and get out of that hot sun. It's a little cooler in the shade."

"Thanks." Rochelle came up on the concrete porch under the awning and sat in one of the chairs next to that bench.

She raised her hands to her hood and lowered it. That action revealed a startling beauty with dark green eyes and straight auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin was light, but she had freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Rochelle looked at Chuck with unblinking eyes, but more in question than accusation. They both looked at each other, until Chuck looked away.

Rochelle then gazed out across the plain where the dried prairie grass was bent from the weather. She relaxed in her chair and extended her feet out in front, crossing them. "It always feels good to stretch your legs after so much walking."

"I imagine it does. Say, I'm about to get a refill. Did you want something to drink?"

Rochelle glanced at his face again and noticed the corners of his mouth were starting a smile. "Sure, some water would be nice."

"How about some lemonade? I've got a pitcher full back there."

"Sure."

As Chuck got up with his thermos glass, he rose with a practiced and unhurried ease like he would for any paying customer. Not that he would ask her for anything. Death doesn't have to pay.

Soon, he returned with a tall plastic sixteen-ounce tumbler, a plastic cap on it, and a paper-covered straw. Gaudy logos covered it, in contrast to the dark and dusty jacket Rochelle wore.

Handing the cup and straw to her, Chuck noticed her fingernails were clean and well-trimmed, silver rings on several fingers.

Rochelle smiled with straight teeth and a look that could melt any teenager's heart. "Thanks."

Rochelle took the straw and set it down by her leg on the chair. Then carefully she took the lid off the filled cup and drank deeply. She paused when she got about a third of it down, knowing she should take small sips to allow her body to adjust.

The silence returned again.

At last, Chuck spoke. "Have you been walking long?"

"All day so far, and most of the day before that."

"Heading somewhere in particular?"

"Not really. Just walking."

"I may be out of line here, but all that walking will end up take you somewhere. Most people know where they want to go when they start out..."

"Nope. Not for me. I'm just walking."

Another fresh breeze came through the store, and reminded Chuck of what he was cooking.

"Hey, are you hungry? It's a little early for lunch, but late for breakfast. Would you like to join me for some venison stew?"

Rochelle brightened at this, all the creases from her face erasing at the thought. "It's been months since I've had someone else's cooking. My breakfast was a trail bar."

"OK, you just sit there and I'll bring you out a plate of it. We don't have a table inside, and you don't need to be standing at a display counter after all those miles your dogs have covered. Be right back."

Rochelle smiled at her feet being called 'dogs' and the idea of some hot food.

Chuck returned soon with two plastic foam plates, and some corn bread. He had put a plastic fork and spoon on each plate. Rochelle thanked him as he handed her one.

They sat and ate in silence. The wind rustled the brown and gray grasses, while a skeleton tree with a small clump of shade provided a perch for a lone hawk out in the distance.

Rochelle loosened her jacket by unzipping it partly. That exposed a t-shirt that had some rock band logo on it. She had curled her feet under her chair while she ate, sat the tall drink by one chair leg. Once the plate was cleared, she sat it down on the bench seat and picked up the drink again, sipping it with pauses.

"Thanks, Chuck."

"How did you know my name?"

"Road sign. Figured that you must be the Chuck in 'Chuck's Place.'"

Chuck smiled. "Yea, that would be me."

Rochelle looked directly at him. "I don't know how many years its been since someone talked to me like you have."

"Like I have?"

"Nice-like. As if you cared."

"Well, what choice do I really have? People are people. It doesn't seem right to treat them nasty even when you're facing the end."

"Do you think I've bringing you your end?"

"Well, aren't you? Aren't you a Lazurai?"

"Not actually. Something like a third generation."

Rochelle then told the story of how she had come into contact with someone who had been in contact with one of the original Lazurai. By the time she had found out, she was already cursed by her own family and community. She'd been asked to leave and did. She'd never heard from them again, or even tried to call them.

"Most of the original Lazurai are gone. They literally faded into the earth or canyons, or even vacant concrete buildings. Loneliness does strange things to people. And they didn't have to be human anymore, especially if they weren't wanted. They'd lean up against a wall, all depressed, and then just melt into it. Or sit in a canyon until they just faded into the rocks they were sitting on. Some seemed to evaporate into the air. But those are all legends.

"There are isolated camps of people who were infected by them, and they've learned to master their situation. So much so that they can pass for normal, and move through cities entirely un-noticed and not make anyone sick.

"Others used to work for the military, at least until they were being experimented on too many times. Vengeance only goes so far as motivation. And trusting the government too much has never worked well, if you read your history. Corporations are no better, and usually worse.

"So a private and reflective life is the usual outcome. No one but our own kind understand what it's like. And when you get a group of them together, it usually winds up getting attacked one way or the other. Ends up badly for everyone."

Chuck closed his open mouth. "So you don't make people sick? Don't kill them?"

"I can if I want. Mostly I don't want. Why would I want to?"

"But isn't that what the originals did?"

"That was all they knew how to do. They didn't have control over it. And everyone who got close would die, so they quickly turned pretty sour, mostly."

"How did the next generation survive?"

"In their travels, they'd sometimes find babies. And babies are able to adapt easier than kids or adults. The ones that did then would inherit the virus from whoever had found them. Just through their physical touch. And the Lazurai took special care of those young ones, as babies didn't judge them and would give them love in return.”

She looked up at Chuck again. "Tell me about why you're still here when everyone else left. Tell me about your life."

So Chuck in turn told her about the baby and Charlene. All the doctors and treatments. And finally Charlene's decision to simply go back home. To the only home the two of them had ever known together.

When he was done, they were both silent again.

The sun had climbed while they were talking and the porch's shade had shortened considerably.

Rochelle then asked, "Can I see her?"

Chuck rose without a word and took her plate with his to drop in the trashcan on the other side of the open door. He motioned to Rochelle. "I think Charlene’s still asleep."

Rochelle rose out of her chair and they then went inside.

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A New Serial Arrives From This Anthology

Book One of the Hooman Saga is an anthology compiled from earlier short stories which tell how their dystopiac world started before, well, everything in Hooman Saga Book Two.

This is an alternate future history. Here starts the second book in this story - The Lazurai. Now we’re on chapter three of five.

This second of fifteen stories are appearing here as a new series of serials. Continuing from the first story and going forward. For nearly 350 print pages.

For now, set your calendar to keep track of these new adventures. Every Saturday.

Table of Contents

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