Breach (The Blood Bargain) (23 page)

“I don’t like towns.”  Rylie grumbled, arms crossed over his chest he examined the van along with the redheaded half giant.

“It’s a pretty clean one.  Caravans go this way.  Well...they did when we had caravans. Frequently.”  Ethan
awkwardly offered up.  A crawler in a torn blue flannel was trying to drag itself on one good limb to his legs, with a quick nonchalant strike he stabbed the deadhead through the skull with his machete.  Black blood spraying his boots.

Ben’s thick palm patted the dirty white hood of the vehicle. “We need the van.”   He added flatly.  “Not like we have much of a choice, we can’t very well just leave the vamp here.”

“Damnit.”  Rylie cracked his neck.  “Let’s move quickly people.”

We piled back into our vehicles, the door shutting loudly behind me as I tugged my seatbelt on.  Took me two tries to get the latch into the buckle.

“Hey don’t you worry,” Rylie must have noticed my fumbles his tone reeked of big brother reassurance, “we’ll be up in Lake City, parlayed and home before the week is out.  Ethan says they are kindly folk.  Probably just didn’t take too kindly to one of their supply caravan’s being overrun by the dead.  Once we explain it’s not our fault…we’re home free.”

T
he jeep rolled forward, the crunch of the gravel under the tires sounding hauntingly of bones. I found myself nervously doodling swirling circles in my notebook while chewing on my lip, sensations of guilt swelling in my chest with each pen stroke on the paper. 

Rylie
, like everyone else, had been only read in on as much as he needed to be told.  Being a soldier he was probably used to that arrangement in the old world, but this was not America anymore.  This was not any country to speak of.  Lies and clearance levels were a thing of a forgotten age, they were not values we should put forth in our rebuilding. 

“You were right earlier…about me being full of it.”  I mumbled.  The jeep jumped slightly from a dip in the road, turning my newest circle into a misshapen oval.  With a frown I crossed it out.

“Oh yeah?”

“Can I trust you?   I mean really trust you?”

“You trust me on your six, which means you trust me with your life.  What could be higher?”

“Know how I hurt my legs?”  I asked quietly, drawling little stick figures standing on the circles.

“Yea.”

“I didn’t break them on the wall.   I jumped off the top of a building in downtown Des Moines to get away from the dead on the roof that were following me.  That was of course, after the vampire left me to die on a balcony for meddling.  This mission we’re going on now?  It isn’t what you think it is. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because I kept secrets.”  The words poured out of me in a slurred rush.  When I fin
ished I waited for a reaction.

Any reaction.

              There was nothing but the vibrations from the jeep on the road and the sweet song playing over the speakers.  A synthetic eighties pop tune about a girl.  The upbeat tune did not match my mood.  Rolling my eyes I tucked my hair behind my ears, sinking further down in my seat.  Great.  Now he either thought me mad or devious.  Either made for an awkward road trip.  Telling him was a mistake.  I could not believe I had been so-

             
My whole body jerked as his thick hand clasped my left, his grip wasn’t hard or gruff as his demeanor.  A gentle squeeze then he let go, leaving me wondering if he’d touched me at all.

“I’m thinking,”
Rylie paused to turn off the radio, “you betta start from the beginning tifi.”

So I did.  From the first radio signal to my leap of faith from the roof.  His hooded eyes remained stoic while I poured through the memories in a mixture of vivid detail and ambiguous transitions.  The van gobbled up half of our water supply to limp it ten miles into town, forcing us to pause and guard while he refilled.  With each stop I would forget what I had been rambling about until
Rylie would gently prompt my continuance.

The
Zumbro Falls sign mounted between two brick columns was decorated with two cheery looking fellows pedaling canoes. 

Ethan was right, it appeared to be a pretty vacant place.  A couple of homes built in the nineteen hundreds spaced between several of those prefabricated park and live modular homes.  Large propane tanks decorated every yard, although most were buried under nature.  A population: 207 sign was mounted on a steel spike to our left and spray-painted over in bright yellow to read population: zero.  The homes along the riverfront seemed to have taken quite an environmental beating, water marks rose high along the siding of the ground floor, four feet in some places by my best estimate.  A flash flood zone warning sign had been used to barricade a bay window on a white craftsman home.  Although it didn’t seem to have been effective, the front door was wide open.

I kept my eyes on the town as Rylie slowly drove around an abandon car and debris. We found ourselves on a small residential street, a four still standing homes with gravel driveways in various states of decay.  In the back yard of the brick ranch was a large pine tree that was about two stories tall and half as wide.  Hanging from the branches were…heads, strung up in various ways.  Some through the jaw others through an eye socket or a puncture in the ear.  I could have sworn I saw a few moving…

“
Rylie…”  I started.  The car turned left, placing the festive tree out of sight.  Had I even seen it? 

“What?”  He asked, just as we turned right into the heart of this small town.  Looked like they didn’t even have a grocer, just Sally’s Diner and Jim’s
Gas’n Go according to the hand painted signage.

I wondered if Jim and Sally were still lurking about.

Ben parked the urban assault vehicle-the minivan-in front of Jim’s at pump number one. Rylie pulled up alongside the building and killed the engine.  We sat in silence for a minute.

There was nothing coming from outside except for the crack of Ben’s back as he stretched outside the once white wall of the van.  Ethan popped out the passenger seat like it was on fire, moving quickly and low he did a quick perimeter check, disappearing around the side of the building.

“I don’t like this.”  I tightened my grip on my crossbow.  “There was a yard back there with a tree full of hea-.”

“Watch it.”  Ben shouted cutting me off.

“Holy shit!”  Ethan paused where he was, just an inch from the thin wire that had been placed between the two poles that held up the front awning of the gas station.  Tracing it with my eyes, it led across the entryway up the adjacent post and to a sawed off shotgun pointed at the doorway.

Ethan exhaled sharply.  “That could have been bad...thanks Ben.”

“I don’t like this.” I repeated in a hiss.  Wondering if we had living company in this little sleepy town.

“Probably just some triple S.”  Ethan muttered, to which Ben readily agreed.

Sole Survivor Syndrome, a phrase coined by the late Dr. Tommen, was an unfortunately common and nasty psych condition.  You get someone who was isolated from any of the new colonies since the outbreak, some poor guy who thinks he’s the last one out there, then let time pass.  Months. Years.  Next thing you know you’ve got houses wired with guns on trip wires, incendiaries, covered pits, stakes, you name it.  Find some guy behind it all who’s half mad with pillows duct taped to his arms who wants to put a screwdriver through your brain. Or more likely, one that had been dead for years propped up against a wall curled around his shotgun.  Before the wall went up, when they were still doing house search, they found a few alive.  None were able to be talked down into coming in.  Story went they screamed the search team was a hallucination and ran off or something like that.  After the wall went up, there had been whispers over the years that the caravans had run into a triple S here and there, but nothing confirmed.  I used to think it was all just stupid stories the kids told to have something to talk about.

“We just need to be quick.” 
Rylie snapped, “Ben.  Liv. Get what we need. I want to get the hell out of here.”

Going around the shotgun trap, I followed the redheaded man-fridge to the front door of Jim’s Gas ‘n Go.  A little bell announced our presence above our heads as Ben opened the door with his burly hand.  With the sound of the chime we waited for any tell-tale signs.  A moan, something thumping against the floor or any other greeting from the locals.

What we got was a big fat nothing.  Just silence spread across the rows of shelves. This gas station resembled pretty much every store after the initial outbreak.  The inside was pure chaos; displays overturned, register opened, canned goods gone.  I knew when we hit the back wall all the liquid consumables from bottled water to beer would also be out of stock. However, the postcard display to my left was shockingly untouched.

Ben took point and I brought up the rear as we hugged the front wall towards the back where, surprise
surprise, the soda section had been completely cleaned out.

“
Niiice got it.”  Ben declared from the front, waiving a roll of duct tape in the air.  A grin the size of Texas on his freckled face.  “Liv check for more water and meet me out front.”

“Yeah...sure.”  I replied with a roll of my eyes.  Odds of us replenishing our water here was slim to none.  Still I walked slowly down the row of glass cabinets, looking through all the empty rows and bright yellow price tags.  Money.  It had been so long since I’d heard of the capitalism concept that all the little tags seemed foreign entirely to me.  Beneath the two for three dollars sign that had been taped eye level on the window was a few rows
still populated with extremely spoiled moldy milk jugs, beneath those were a few turned over plastic bottles that had been thrown about inside the cabinet when someone was in a rush.  With my hand on the handle I hesitated-prepared really-for the moment I broke the seal an olfactory assault would occur.  I hated the smell of milk two days sour, this long?  It was going to be bad.

The slow metal click came from my left.  My hand went on instinct for my bow.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  A male voice drawled by my ear, freezing me in place as the cold metal of the barrel rubbed against my temple.

Without moving my body, I raised my eyes to catch the reflection of several dozen silhouettes in the glass door in front of me.

We were surrounded.

I don’t know why they separated me from the guys, I could only imagine about a hundred different reasons why they would want me out of their pane of view.  None of them were pleasant.

Hands bound, I was taken into the back manager’s office of the gas station and ordered to my knees on the mud covered floor.  There was no natural light in that room, no windows. When the door shut behind me I lost all concept of time.  My senses limited to the muffled voices outside.  Scavengers, I couldn’t believe the place had been crawling with them.  How the hell had they gotten the drop on the guys?

Or had they? Bound in the darkness I heard a lot of yelling, then silence.  Focusing on my breathing, I tried to wiggle my hands out of the zip tie binds.  Panic rising in my throat as I waited for the telltale sound of a gun. 

Time ticked on by and the still continued.  I felt a sinking sensation in my gut with the rest of my senses removed, a pain caused by someone who was far away from my location.  Screams and howls echoing around my head as though they originated from right in front of me.  My skin broke out in a cold sweat as my breathing became labored and uneven.

No, not now. Come on...push it away.  I begged myself.  I focused on my Dad, the chill of the metal around my neck.  Mom’s necklace.  Mom… I pictured her pushing my swing at the park, the bright sun shining down on the birds singing the joys of spring.  Laughter all around us.  Pushing hard on the memory I could almost recall the sound of her voice, so faded after all these years.  Be careful up there, any higher and you’ll just fly away. To which I would always laugh, demanding she push me further.  Higher.  Faster.  Her words from my memories rang in my own internal tone, not hers.  Hers was always so much softer than my own, carrying a kindness I couldn’t match, yet always sought after.  My breathing slowed, the shake in my fingers settled in their own slow accord.

Be careful… 

The click of the door cut through the torment in my mind, bringing the true fear back. The very real threat of my impending death and likely torture.  The soft glow of a candle preceded two people; a slim girl in her early twenties with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail and a boy that was maybe fourteen with matted long dark hair stuffed into a purple cap.  Both were dressed in flea market weather efficient flare.  The boy had on snow pants and a
hoodie that fell to his knees and was rolled up at the cuff.  The girl had on ripped jeans over thermals, a tee-shirt under a pocketed leather vest.  Whatever feminine curves she had were hidden under a thick leather trench coat.

“What’s your name pretty girl?” Her voice was thick with a Minnesota accent, her
o’s over pronounced and elongated.  Her slim hand pulled out the cheap fake leather office chair from the desk, spinning it to face me.  With shrewd brown eyes trained on my own, she collapsed into the seat with a groan. 

The boy remained nervously by the door, a rifle pointed in my direction.  I did not like that he was nervous.  If the twitch in his eye was matched with a twitch in his trigger finger…

Breathe Livvy. I told myself.

Scooting back into a pile of boxes, I looked up at my captors.  

“Evelyn.”  I kept my eyes focused on the one doing the questioning, the boy with the assault rifle pointed at my head was just a minion.

“Just you four?”   Heavy bags blanketed her almond shaped eyes.

“Yes.” I lied. 

Her slightly upturned freckled nose wrinkled at my answer.  “Dangerous times for such a small group.”  She drawled, pulling a pack of Marlboro’s out of her pocket she tapped the box against her palm.  Fingernails were covered with purple chipped polish.

“Guess you could say we like life on the edge. Something I expect a scav like you to understand.”

“Fair enough.”  She flipped a lighter out of her cargo pocket and lit the cigarette between her teeth.  A ring shaped like an owl on her right index finger, next to it a plain gold band on her middle.

“Those things'll kill ya you know.”  I quipped.

“I’d be lucky to live that long.”  She muttered with a laugh, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke in my face.  I tried not to cough. “See we have a small problem you and I.”  She gestured back and forth between us before taking another puff.  “You and your little boys have ventured into
Zumbro Falls.  This is my town, so you’re gonna have to pay a toll.”  She stood, crossing her arms attempting to look as badass as possible.  I tried not to pale, wondering what kind of toll that would be.

“What’s your name?”  I asked.  When she raised an
eyebrow I continued.  “No need to be uncivilized.  I just want your name.”  The girl took one last drag on her smoke then put it out on the tile under our feet with her high top sneaker.

“China Lynne Kane, this,” she nodded to her side, “is Viking.”

“Viking?”  I briefly wondered if this was a group of ‘let’s all give each other cool nicknames’ survivors.

“Yeah.  Hey V why don’t you check the perm with Bill?  Give me and Evelyn here a minute for girl talk?”  The one she called Viking nodded, while China pulled her gun from her belt.

“Thanks bud.”  With a quick shuffle of feet he exited the front of the gas station, leaving me with a Beretta pointed at my forehead.  Her hand didn’t shake with the weapon.

“Doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good kid and a damn good shot. When we found him he was five, covered in blood wearing a Vikings coat three sizes too big for him.  Never did get his name so we’ve always just called him V.”

“I see.”  Not that I cared.

“So want to tell me what the hell you all are really doing out here? You
ain’t natives.” She drawled, pacing in front of me on the tile.

I guess there was no reason to deny that.  “We’re headed to Lake City, from Junction.”

China snorted. “Long way to drive to die.”

“What do you mean?”

“It ain’t exactly a welcoming friendly place,” she sneered, “I would know.”

“How’s that?”  My eyes flicked to the waning candle briefly, the sun had been close to setting when we got here.  Had to keep stalling.

“Put eight years into the live as one with the vamps theory, I consider myself lucky that I got out alive.”

“You left?”  I tried to summon my inner talk show host, pretending to be interested as I could be in her woes.

“Yep.”

“Why?  There was food, shelter-”

“Every prison has food and shelter.”  I shook my head.

“Junction isn’t like that, we have an actual town.  We live in harmony-”

“-think you live in harmony.”

“We do. “  She just laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever girlie, so let’s make this easy peasy okay?  We’re going to scrounge some supplies off of your little team and you’re going to co-operate.”  Grabbing me by my shirt, she stood me up. “Dick me around though and I’ll be forced to kill you all to set an example.”  She leaned in close to me, her heavy tobacco breath in my face. “That would really piss me off.  See honestly I really hate to kill the living.  There ain’t much of us left and there certainly ain’t much room left on the tree to put ya.  I’d prefer just to let you go die however and wherever you like.  Understood?” 

“Where’s the key to the jeep?”  She asked me.   A morbid picture flashed through my mind of
Rylie’s head dangling from that pine tree, if she had…

“Back pocket.”  I muttered.  Her hand lingered just a moment too long in retrieval. With a superior smirk she jingled them in front of my nose before putting them in her jacket.

“Come on.”  A shove lead me back outside, where everyone from the colony was thankfully still breathing.  All of the guys had been lined up and bound, guns trained on them from all sides.  The girl then pushed me down to my knees next to Ethan.  Keys in hand, she set upon the jeep with two of hers, going through the supplies we had packed in the back.

Someone behind me started shouting about the need to hurry up.  I looked around, counting at least eight
scav’s I could see in the group.  Twisting my wrists I found my bonds no looser now that we were outside.  Rylie was looking positively deadly next to me, his face remained expressionless, his right eye swollen shut and nose bloodied.  Rage filled his good eye as he tracked every move they made, looking for an opportunity.  Ben was muttering to himself, his large shoulders heaving from his heavy breathing.  I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he wanted to jump to his feet and rip our current captors to shreds, it was just his style.  Ethan had taken a fist to the jaw in the scuffle, blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth onto the pavement beneath our feet.

When they went around to the back of the van, I held my breath.  The sun was quickly setting, but the reddish purple skyline had yet to fade to night.  When they opened that back door…

“It’s padlocked.” A raspy alto voice shouted.  “None of the keys on the ring from the girl or the big guy work.”

“Where is the key asshole?”  An Asian man grabbed
Rylie by his shirt, almost spitting in his face as he talked.

“Funny I thought I left it in your mom’s undead ass.”  Ben sneered from beside them.

It was enough to earn him a blow to the face with the butt of a shotgun.  Ben just laughed, slow rolling pained guffaws. 

A heavy metallic bang came from the back of the van, then another.  Sounded like someone was trying to beat the lock off the door.  Chewing on my lower lip I looked over at China’s smug expression as she rifled through my bag.  Did they not realize how very
very bad sound was?

“Got it!”  Came the call from behind the van.  Ben just kept at the hysterics, his eyes wild as the Asian man raised his gun to Ben’s face, cursing him and demanding he shut his mouth.

“I said shut the f-”

He was on the pavement, his throat ripped open.  Choking he tried desperately to hold in the blood with one hand while his other arm and legs twitched.

“Evening.”  Candice purred, standing casually over the gurgling body with her fangs down over her dripping red lips.

One of the
scav’s got off a shot, but by the time the bullet plugged the side of the van with a metallic ting all of the armed aggressors were flat on their backs.

“What the hell!”  China shouted, just before Candice shoved an elbow in her jaw, knocking her out cold.

“Oh maaaan, I have never been happier to see you!”  Ben gushed at his ex.

“That’s what all the boys say.”  In a blur of motion our hands were unbound; the mixture of unconscious and dead
scav’s piled in front of the gas station like a bloody soda sale display.

“I’m going to scout while you sort this out.”  Candice told me with a wicked smile, and then she was gone.  A blur of blonde disappearing into the night.

“We need to be on guard the rest of the trip.  I can’t believe things have gotten so brash we were ambushed by children.”  Rylie grumbled.

“What do we do with them?”  I asked, gesturing to the body pile.  Ben was whistling, rifling through the
scav’s pockets, collecting shells and what looked like a couple sticks of beef jerky.

“Leave them.” 
Rylie snapped. 

“Out in the open?”  Ethan chimed in, eyebrow raised.