Justin Joschko - Yellow Locust

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright 2018 by Justin Joschko

YELLOW LOCUST by Justin Joschko

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-946700-63-6

EPub ISBN: 978-1-946700-61-2

Mobipocket ISBN: 978-1-946700-62-9

Published by Month9Books, Raleigh, NC 27609

Cover design by Danielle Doolittle

Map illustration by Zachary Schoenbaum

For Lavender and Hannela:

May the world you inherit fare better than this one

Selena and Simon trudged west. Cracks snaked across crumbling asphalt, hemorrhaging weeds singed crisp by the sun. Neck-high stalks of yellow grass choked the once wide road into a claustrophobic pathway, its overgrown edges ragged and swaying in the frugal breeze. Selena pulled a small wagon behind her, which hopped and jerked over the cragged pavement. Its battered wheels whined for oil.

Simon wiped his forehead with one chapped palm, leaving a miasmic trail of mingled sweat and grime. Sunlight played off the rims of his glasses. His normally pale face flushed.

Can we stop a minute? he called.

Selena responded without slowing down. Wait til we find some shade. Youll fry out here.

Im frying already.

Then walk faster.

Groaning, Simon grabbed his sweater by its lower fringe and flapped. A pathetic wisp of stagnant air brushed against his belly. He longed to remove the sweater, but knew that his pasty skin, if exposed, would crackle and burn in minutes.

A frieze of buildings rose in the distance. Selena heaved an inward sigh of relief. Theyd encountered such places before on their long trek through the great puckering abscess that was the center of this continent. Once great cities before the Last War a hundred years earlier, they stood now as ghosts of the endless plains, their crumbling buildings serving as nothing but a shell for some tiny, hardscrabble town carved into their bellies. The few citizens of these placesonly K City boasted more than a hundredseemed edgy and desperate and somehow misshapen, twisted by hardship into bent, gnome-like shapes. The vacant buildings of their dead cities held the ubiquitous yellow grass at bay, allowing them to scrape meagre livings from soil once entombed in asphalt and threaded with rotted power lines and gas pipes and the iron guts of an ancient sewage system. Such places saw few outside visitors, though so far, Selena had always found at least one farmer willing to trade good Standard for a few leeks or a head of cabbage. Selena hoped the trend would continue. It had been almost a week since theyd encountered another living soul, and their supplies were dwindling, especially their water.

By the time they reached the citys outskirts, it was dusk and they still hadnt encountered a soul. Buildings towered over them like the walls of a great grey canyon, channelling the wind into a steady gust that carried with it the stink of ancient sewage and rusting metal. Beads of glass from long-shattered windows littered the asphalt, jagged edges worn smooth by a century of wind and rain.

The grass followed the siblings into town, looming silently along the highway shoulders, lancing up through broken sidewalk slabs, squatting in the cavernous lobbies of derelict skyscrapers. It stalked them all the way to the city center, where a square kilometer of turf and asphalt had been pared away to uncover the silty soil beneath. Stakes with tips painted green, blue, and orange still jutted evenly along the fields southern edge, though whether the colors signified crop rotation or ownership, Selena couldnt say. Only one plant grew there now, and she was willing to bet it hadnt been deliberately planted. The yellow grass devoured every inch of naked soil, creating a neck-high carpet of brittle, oily stalks. We arent gonna find any food on offer here, Selena thought, though she kept this opinion to herselfthe last thing her brother needed was more bad news.

A fountain stood on a cobbled square beside the field, its ledge chipped and weathered. A bronze woman stood atop its stone platform, her face tarnished and scaly with grime. She held aloft a jug with a broken handle. Water dribbled from its spout. No food, maybe, but waters more important anyway.

Selena knelt to the water. A caustic stench of grease and bitter herbs rose from the pool. A skein of shimmery oil coated the water, stirred to a rainbow froth where the trickling spout spilled its endless contents. Selena rolled up her pant legs, removed her shoes, and waded into the fountain. The waters scummy skin clung to her leg hairs. She cupped her hands beneath the dribble.

Even before the water touched her lips, she knew it was bad. The stench of it lapped at her face like a hungry tongue. She sipped anyway, gagged, spat. Running or still, the water was hopelessly befouled. Its taste and smell lingered long enough for her to place it: the smell of the yellow grass, the few times shed been forced to push her way directly through it. Not content with razing the towns crops, the vile stuff had also poisoned its water supply. Whatever this shit is, its thorough.

Simon stared into the pool. The face it reflected was wan and distorted.

This place is spooky, he said.

Its not spooky. Its just abandoned.

Thats what makes it spooky. What do we do now?

Selena rubbed her damp legs clean with a rag, wincing with distaste as the greasy water trickled over her fingers. We move on, I guess. The waters foul, and I seriously doubt were gonna find any food. But first, I want to check out some of the buildings near the field.

Simon chewed his lower lip. You want to go in those things? Why?

Someone lived here once. They mightve left things behind.

Like food? In jars and stuff?

If they were stupid or insane, maybe. Could be. If nothing else, itll let us sleep indoors for a change.

Though as run down and haggard as the rest of the city, the tenements next to the field at least showed signs of having supported life sometime this century. Windows bore bandages of plywood or ancient tarpaulin, and the litter of broken glass and other debris had been swept away. Tables stood beneath a jury-rigged awning, a couple of which even held ceramic mugs of stale or foetid water. Selena wondered if there might not be people left here after all, living off preserves or tending a rooftop garden. She knocked on the door of the nearest building.