Bone Dust & Beginnings (Alexa's Travels Book 1)

Bone Dust & Beginnings

Book One

By

Angela White

New Edition © 2012

Edited by Sharon K.
Maybrier

All rights reserved

Angela White © 2011

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Standard Copyright laws apply.
Made in the United States.

Table of Contents

The First of Six

Exploits of Survival

Descendants

One Last Ride

River City

The Mystery Deepens

Myths and Legends

The Utah Facility

Bridges & Betrayals

Hoppers & Helpers

Hunting Ground

My Mercy

Closing Time

Notes

Extras

…
The Killin’ Fields

…
The Change

…
The Survivors

…
Character Bios

The Quest

They came from the west

Seven fighters to the end

One stunning blonde warrior

Leading six hard-ass men

Through magic and death

Demons and fire

Clever ambushes

and
Nature's ire

Stand in their way

Nothing will

Bone Dust or bullets

To pay the bill

Through now decayed cities

Filled with nightmares

Following a path

Forgotten over the years

Looking for a place of change

of
safety and light

Striving for honor

and
American might

Wrapped in the future

The year is 2016

If they'll find what they look for

Remains to be seen

One

Lexington, Utah

April, 2016 AW

1

The lone woman limped into the border town on a sunless morning, long years after the nuclear world war that slid mankind back into the dark ages. In front of her, the last out-post within a hundred miles beckoned like a flame. Behind her, the shimmering green sky over the Wastelands rolled closer in a devious illusion.

Large by the standards of Afterworld, Lexington consisted of two dozen rickety homes and half as many store-tents lining the unforgiving road that gouged its way through the brutally arid terrain. Of people, there were only merchants out to witness, and their faces were stunned to see a woman limping steadily toward them.

Coming from the west, where even the hardest of men vanished, they expected only the walking dead or worse. That was the reason for the hip-high fog-like barrier around the border town, but the chemical smoke had no effect on the lone female as she stepped through it. She didn’t scream, or burst into flames… a survivor.

The lanky blonde was filthy, covered in glowing desert dust, and her hardened face said she’d been to hell.
Likely, more than once.
Backing up that impression, she wore a Colt .45 slung low on each slender hip. Her torn and tacky red pant leg left little doubt she’d used the guns recently - well enough to have survived whatever horrors fate had delivered to her in the Wastelands.

Shaking off the shock to vie for the woman’s business, the merchants watched her approach with greedy eagerness… moved toward her with more of the same as she neared them.

Stopping, Alexa’s hands slid to the gritty Colts, and her frosted blue eyes blazed with heat.

The merchants darted away in fear and confusion - half a dozen sly puppets scurrying out of her path.
Guns
were the law in Afterworld.

Seconds more of this set stance from the woman found the thieves banished back to their stoops and flaps. She had items for trade, and the anger to punish those who tried to take advantage, but these vultures weren’t worth a lesson, only her lead.

Border towns were as rare the Caravans, and twice as soulless. If she fell before them, these men would not offer help, only an attack. They scavenged, thieved from those in need - she would never willingly haggle with their like. She spent her dust with those who were worthy, those who deserved the patronage. The rest were no better than animals.

Before the War, Alexa had mostly stayed away from other people, but there was a feeling of something being in Lexington, someone crucial to her quest… and that ring of importance said it (they) couldn’t be found in any other place.

Slap… slap!

A tattered American symbol flying over one of the smallest store-tents drew the woman, and she turned that way with a smoothness her injury didn’t impede. Ignoring the watching hawkers and their instant, impotent outrage, her boots made no noise on the dirt hardpan as she headed for the fluttering flag.

The decoration was the equivalent of suicide for a businessman - proclaiming them to honor the old ways that had destroyed so much - and Alexa instantly respected the one who had put it there. Love of country was part of what she’d come for, as was courage.

Before she reached the battered, green vinyl under the flag, the tent flap opened. From the dimness, a cloaked man of tall stature and wide shoulders stepped into the bracing wind. The sense of being pulled faded.

This merchant didn’t rush to be useful, instead keeping his head bowed in respect. When he waited patiently, hood hiding his face, Alexa was instantly comforted. He wasn’t a vulture, like the others here… and he was strong. She could feel it emanating from his healthy form in thick waves.

She looked toward his store-tent, and the merchant immediately held the flap open for her, moving with a casual grace that she admired.

Alexa stepped inside with a hand still resting on one of her Colts, as a warning to those watching with heated glares.
To have one old world supporter in town was a surprise - two was a threat, and it impressed her that they allowed this seller to stay. In the other places she’d been to since the End, flying the red, white, and blue was an instant battle to be survived. It said a lot about the man now closing out the dust with a light hand on the zipper.

Alexa evaluated the layout of the small store in seconds, marking neat displays of handmade firearms and bins of ammunition. Since the War, life anywhere depended on guns… and the men to use them. All of her crew would be gunslingers. Was this hard loner the first?

Edward kept a clear distance, able to feel the woman evaluating, determining his worth. Would he be accepted, rescued from the self-imposed prison he had created? Was it finally time for his
real
life to begin?

"May I offer you a drink?" He slid the hood back as he spoke, exposing
black waves and a face roughened by the brutal Afterworld sun
.

Alexa studied him. He was clearly no stranger to survival. It was evident in the cold eyes that watched her, expecting trouble, but also in the way his hand stayed near the 9mm on his hip. He had that fighter’s steel she needed… but, would he
kill
for her
?
This would be no easy quest.

Edward looked back just as intently. Tall, with uncountable blonde braids falling into thick ponytails that hung to her hips, the wide forehead and that thick nose fit with those remorseless blue eyes. However, the soft curve of her jaw and delicate arch of brows hinted at a softer side he thought few were probably lucky enough to know. The merchant suddenly wanted to be
counted
 
one
of those.

Before he could repeat the question, Alexa answered, "I have no thirst… only a hunger."

Her raspy voice rolled through the canvas like a match across sandpaper, snagging, bringing heat. Edward’s tone deepened. "What would please you, Mistress?"

That one word sent a short-lived smile across her weathered lips, "To be a man up when I leave this place.”

Alexa took a step closer, not caring about the scarlet drops trailing from her leg. "Do you have a mind to fill that need, tradesman?"

Edward nodded slowly, heart thumping with anxiety that didn’t bleed through his tones.
"Aye.
Nothing, but ghosts hold me here."

"Bones are to be buried, not brought along for this quest," Alexa warned sharply. "I need men,
fighters
."

“Aye, Lady. I am that.” Edward felt her strength, and a dark, endless well began to fill with hope. She sounded like a true leader...

The woman hardened herself against the silent pleading in his stiff body language. “Where do your loyalties lie?”

“With America,” his answer came instantly.

"As do mine," Alexa confided. She went on before he could make the mistake of questioning her words, of asking for proof. "I offer no pay, no promises. I will not swear to protect your life."

Edward's voice was surprisingly bitter, considering how much he wanted to go, to leave this place behind, "The
quest
above all else. I know the code."

Satisfied the merchant really did, - his tone said that he, too, had been to hell - Alexa asked the required questions quickly. "You'd go where I do? Abide me?"

Edward didn’t consider saying no, not with her vibrant sense of authority filling his canvas. "I would… and my thanks for the asking."

"My Honor, Horseman. You are the one called that?"

Alexa extended a scarred hand, head swimming with exhaustion. The battle in the desert had drained the small bits of energy she’d managed to glean since escaping the government bunker. She needed this part over with now, so that she could recharge.

 
“I was.” Edward let his big hand move towards hers. His reputation had grown if she’d tracked him down from inside the Wastelands by that name. He hadn’t been called such since before the War of 2012… before his nature had gone from caregiver to life-taker.

Alexa pulled hard as they touched, drawing his energy. Willing killer or not, she needed him in more ways than just the obvious.

She was a magic-user!

Edward stiffened, but didn’t protest. Her drawing was the feel of icy water on unexpected skin, followed by the searing heat of flames. Sulphur and rose scents filled his nose.

He’d felt her calling out in need, even before seeing her. Hadn’t it brought him from his tent, when little else did? Edward shuddered as the heat increased.

Alexa shoved herself back, staggered down to her knees as his energy began to merge with her own. She mentally directed it toward her wounds, not looking up.

Her ways were different, even for Afterworld, but she waited for his reaction without much concern. He wanted to be free of this place, this life. His silence was screaming it, and she doubted he would pass up the opportunity. Many creatures, much more dangerous than her, roamed man’s roads now. Magic was easy enough to accept in comparison.

Thankfully, the rest of this apocalypse land was slowly coming to the same conclusions. Still shunned, magic-users were no longer being driven out of the scattered groups of refugees - unlike in the beginning, when the War first allowed nightmares to become reality. In Afterworld, one such as her could be useful, depending upon what battle for survival was being fought… and the price. Nothing was free in Afterworld - certainly not the talents
she
had to offer.

Head bowed, trembling, Alexa’s breathless rasp was still one of power. "I now give you one chance to back out… to
live
. After this, only bullets come to those who leave my side before the quest ends."

“Aye.
That’s clear enough.”

Alexa heard his light steps moving away, but still didn’t look up, wasn’t sure she could yet. She needed five minutes to recharge, and that amount of time had almost cost her the quest more than once already. One of those mistakes had come recently, and left her with a slug in her thigh and rage in her heart. Regan would pay for his good aim, and so would the guard’s one-eyed boss.

Despite the merchant’s calmness, Alexa tensed as he returned. His boots stopped by her head - sturdy, made to endure this rugged land as much as their owner.

A fur blanket dropped over her shoulders an instant later.

"
Mmm
..." Alexa closed her eyes in bliss at the warmth. It had been so cold in the desert!

Her moan sent a flare of want into Edward’s gut, and he quickly moved back. He'd lost his submissive wife in the War, and this was no cheap slam to be ridden and escaped afterward.
This
woman was lethal.

And I’ll die on her quest.
Edward was suddenly sure of it. He should send her away… "I have a room empty."

Her raspy chuckle in response tugged on his gentler side. Many seasons had passed since Edward had heard amusement, been the one to cause it. His presence for the last years had only brought scorn… and bloodshed.

"A canvas room is always empty."

Edward snorted at the military joke, "So it is, Lady, but mine lies under our feet."

Wary, Alexa grunted her consent, but didn’t move from the warmth of the fur. His energy was repairing, aiding, strengthening… and it hurt. Her own life force was very defensive.

Sensing her weakness, Edward knelt down. “May I?”

She grunted again, head still bowed, "My permission… and my gratitude, tradesman. It was a long trip out."

"You came from the Zone?"

"More than one.”

Alexa flashed to the battle she had clearly lost control of – to the tremor-storm that had saved her, but not left enough bodies. Even now, Corbin and Regan were likely on the way here. They wouldn’t find her underground, though, and she was thankful for this merchant’s defiant sign. The tattered flag said more about him than the neatness of his store, or the very low prices chalked on the board over the thin wooden counter.

Steeling himself to the feel, Edward lifted the woman carefully but without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he had shared his energy, though it hadn’t felt nearly as intense. He wasn’t comfortable with magic-users, but he didn’t hate or fear them, either. Since the War, everything had changed - even reality. Adapting was the key.

Using his feet to open the cover to his hideout, Edward was aware that she was judging his value even as he gave aid. He had expected to dislike whoever finally saw his worth - there were few happy endings to journeys like these - but instead, found his heart eager to serve.