Five Days Dead (7 page)

“They’re not on the Link. They’re outcast chattel and if they come near the Hub, we deal with them. If they don’t we let the Rages have them.”

“But they still managed to walk right into the Utah Hub and steal this man’s wife, the mother of his children?”

“They’re not on the Link.” Victor’s left jaw was flexing as he ground his teeth. Harley pressed on.

“You’re a liar Deputy Shelley. Or a fool. If they’re on the Link, and they are, then the Federation could stop them anytime they wanted. So they must not want to stop them. I wonder why?” 

Victor took a step toward him and Harley caught a scent on the soft breeze swirling through the canyon, a hint of decay and blood and filth that blended with the death around them too late for him to not recognize its source. His hand drifted to his sidearm.

“Since we’re about to meet up with the Wrynd, why don’t we just wait and ask them?”

Hunted

You couldn’t see them yet, you couldn’t hear them, but on the soft breeze of the morning, you could smell the rot of them.

“What?” Quinlan asked and moved closer to his children.

Harley nodded toward the slide. “They’re coming.”

Victor pulled his blaster from its holster and the scye dropped to his shoulder. “How many?”

Harley faced the slide but didn’t bother pulling his sidearm. It was too early for any of that. “Do I look clairvoyant?”

Victor scowled and his scye rocketed into the sky and disappeared over the horizon. “Ten,” Victor said a moment later. “Ten of them and Orrin is leading the way.”

“Royal hunting party then.” Harley planted his feet wide and stood up straight, ready, waiting. “At least we’ll be part of a feast fit for a king. Boy, you’d better get those little ones in the truck.”

Quinlan grabbed Raizor and tossed her in the back of the truck and Noah clambered in behind her. He slammed the tailgate shut and closed the shell hatch and came to stand next to Harley with the baseball bat in his hand. Harley shook his head sadly and handed him the pulse rifle he had taken off the legionnaire who whispered in a dying breath that the end was coming. 

The Wrynd came over the crest of the slide at a dead run, moaning their idiotic war cry and by their speed Harley knew things were not going to end well. They were in the midst of a full ink flare and would be hungry for flesh. King Orrin led the way, his massive arms and legs pumping to reach the five of them first. Right beside him ran a slim, athletic woman with the same crazed look on her face as the others. Her hair was long and very black and a tattoo transformed the right side of her face into a gaping, fleshless skull. A bright green and bloody wrap covered her small breasts and her midsection was flat and hard. Shorts clung to powerful looking legs. Harley thought she would be stunning but for the fact that she was a Wrynd. She wore no shoes and the nails of her hands and feet were claws. Harley couldn’t tell if they were real or synthetic, not that it would matter. He didn’t need to hear a gasp from Quinlan to know that this was Vania Bowden, wife of Quinlan, mother to Noah and Raizor and the latest in a long list of Wrynd King Orrin’s queens.

Orrin skidded to a stop 25 feet from Harley, Victor and Quinlan. Vania and the eight other zombies stopped beside him, fanning out until they encircled the truck. There were five men and three women in the party and they were all consumed by ink.

“Harley Nearwater!” Orrin roared and it was difficult to tell if it was a roar of rage or delight. Perhaps it was both.

“King Orrin.” Harley nodded his way, his hand never straying far from his still holstered sidearm. Victor held his blaster, pointing it directly at Orrin's head and his scye made frantic circles in the air around him. He was scared to death Harley realized, but even more terrified to show it.

“I didn’t order takeout.” Orrin said and the other Wrynd laughed hysterically, except for the young zombie woman by his side. She looked confused and even more agitated than the others. They had pumped so much ink into her that she was far beyond any hope of recovery. Harley made a sidelong glance at Quinlan. The young man hadn’t realized it yet. His breathing was jagged and Harley wondered exactly how long he would be able to hold things together.

“No? Well, perhaps we’ll just be on our way then.”

“You’re a funny little Indian Harley. We’re always up for takeout.”

“Vania!” Quinlan’s voice was jagged and started out as a whisper and ended in a scream. The zombie woman before him looked his way as he called out her name but gave no hint of recognition. 

Victor took a step forward and the zombies all balanced on the balls of their feet, ready to leap at the first sign from their king. The deputy marshal had no idea how tenuous their situation was. “That woman is this man’s wife. You kidnapped and drugged her and we are here to take her home.”

Orrin looked at Victor mutely for a moment and then roared more laughter, his pointed teeth clattering against each other and biting into the flesh of his lips. They bled down his chin. His tongue whipped out of his mouth to lap at the blood. “Queen Vania?  Kidnapped?  No, I think not. She is my bride, and I am her loving groom. If she knew anything of this pathetic little man, she has gladly forgotten it now.”

Victor straightened his long right arm, holding the pulse pistol directly at the Wrynd king’s tattooed face. “That may be so, but he has the law on his side and I am the law, so she is coming with us, one way, or another.”

“The law?” Orrin seemed amused, but Harley detected the quickness in his breath, the impatient tapping of his toes. Things were about to get ugly.

“Deputy Marshal Shelley of the Federation.”

“Victor? Victor! I hardly recognized you. You’ve had some modifications done I see. You look something like a monkey.” 

“Orangutan.” Harley offered.

“Orangutan! Yes. A big orangutan.” Orrin gripped Vania by the arm and pulled her to him and she wrapped her other arm around his midsection and licked the blood from his chin. Harley heard Quinlan moan and out of the corner of his eye could see the children with their faces pressed against the window of the truck. “Vania, this man is a Deputy Marshal of the mighty Founder Federation. Are you impressed?”

“Hungry.” She said, and her voice was harsh and jagged and somehow seductive.

“Deputy Marshals are delicious!” Another zombie chattered enthusiastically.

“I want me one of them wings!” Another screamed, and they all laughed and Harley knew death was coming.

“Well, you heard them deputy. I think they would like to have you for dinner and as their humble king, how could I possibly say no?”

The Wrynd who had screamed for a wing leapt forward and Victor hit him with his scye. The scye threw him off his feet and he landed by the others, the scye’s shielding catching his shirt on fire. He tore the shirt free and there was a fist sized burn on his chest. He didn’t seem to notice, but he didn’t rush forward again either. Victor sent the scye circling menacingly around the zombies. 

“I see we are at an impasse.” Orrin dropped to his haunches, licking at his dirty fingers. “I suggest a contest. It’s the best way to deal with an impasse, don’t you think? A contest! Yes, Mr. Deputy Marshal a contest would be best. The Wrynd Horde loathes weapons. We believe in the honor of true combat, claw against claw, teeth against teeth, fist against fist and strength against strength. Not the vulgarity of pulse weapons or dirty flying scyes.”

“Claw, teeth, fist and strength under the influence of ink, you mean?” 

“Ink for us, nanobot and medprint body parts for you. I see little difference.”

“What contest?” Harley asked, his hand still hovering above his sidearm.

“A contest between my lovely bride and the Deputy Marshal. He wants to take her away from her tribe, so I think she has some say in that. If he can defeat her in battle, then he can take her back to her pathetic little man. But if she defeats him, then, well, what shall I say. You’ll stay for dinner, yes?”

“Just passing through,” Harley said and Victor shot him an angry glare. He didn’t care.

“You should be careful of your company Harley.”

“Vania!” Quinlan tried again. “Just come with us. We can get you help.”

Vania looked at her husband and licked her lips, smiling and a sob escaped Quinlan. 

“Agreed!”  Victor roared, and he winked at Harley. “Me against your little queen.”

“No weapons! Claw against claw, teeth against teeth, fist against fist, strength against strength.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Victor unbuckled his holster and tossed it on the truck and slapped Quinlan on the shoulder. “I’ll have your little family home safe and sound by nightfall,” he whispered.

Orrin looked at the other Wrynd and smiled. “Clear us an arena.” The zombies dashed onto the road and quickly cleared away the dead animals, piling the bodies into a circle roughly 25 feet in diameter and Vania calmly stepped inside the circle of death, still smiling softly, almost shyly. There was a sensuous control of her every movement that Harley found stimulating. He understood why Quinlan had brought his children into the Wilderness looking for her. He would have done the same thing.

As Victor turned to step inside the dead animal ring, Quinlan stood in front of him. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her.”

Quinlan shook his head. “That’s not why I’m worried. You can’t beat her. Even with the orangutan arms, even with the nanobot strength. She’ll destroy you. I know. We need to find another way.”

Victor rolled his eyes and brushed past him. The scye hovered above the truck as Victor stepped inside the ring.

Quinlan glanced hopelessly at Harley and shook his head. “He can’t win.”  Harley watched as the two of them paced the circle of dead animals and found he was in complete agreement.  

“You’re married to her?”

“She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. We trained together. She can kick my ass without working up a sweat. Against him, it won’t even be a warm-up.”

Harley nodded and stepped closer to the young man as the two in the ring continued to circle. “Have you killed before?”

Quinlan shook his head.

“You’ll have to now.”

Quinlan looked him in the eyes, looked away. “I’ll try.”

“A steer tries son.” Harley’s eyes stormed. “Bull up and get this done. No hesitation. None. Do you understand? You kill, or you and your little ones are killed. There is nothing else. When the time comes you kill everything in your way and maybe we can walk away from this. If we’re lucky.”

The deputy marshal and Quinlan’s wife circled each other a few more times, smiling pleasantly as if they were not seeking out the simplest way to kill the other. Victor suddenly stopped where he stood and Vania did as well, staring across at one another. Vania smiled softly, seductively and attacked in a single, impossible leap 10, 12 feet into the air, her arms and legs extended and a fierce grin on her face. Victor batted her away with his massive right arm. As he did, she seemed to fold onto herself and wrap her body around his arm as she buried her nails into his biceps and let the force of his own thrust rip the flesh of his arm when thrown aside.

Victor howled and swung out with his left arm, but Vania nimbly ducked beneath it and sashayed out of his reach, walking on the balls of her feet like a dancer. Victor rushed at her, both of his long arms extended and reaching to envelop her, but again she ducked beneath them and spun around him, slicing with her own hands and leaving bloody scratches down his back as she tore his shirt away. Every time he attempted to get a hand on her she would deftly slip out of his reach only to leave him bleeding from another part of his body. The Wrynd around the circle cried in delight. The sight of the blood on the big man was working the zombies into a frenzy Harley knew would soon overcome them.

Victor no longer looked so sure of himself and his nervous glances to the outside of the circle and the other Wrynd confirmed the terror that was quickly overtaking him. When Vania ducked beneath yet another blow and scraped her nails down his right side, he howled in frustration and the scye above the truck suddenly dove forward, hurtling toward the zombie woman. Vania did a somersault away from the deputy and as the scye raced at her head, she leapt into the air and came down on Victor’s back, her feet digging into his side as she made two quick chops into his neck with the claws of her left and right hand. Blood poured from the gaping wound and Vania hugged him, buried her face into his neck and tore free a hunk of flesh. The deputy fell to his knees, then to his chest and the scye fell on the ground beside him as the woman rode him to the ground, still ripping with her teeth.

Harley cursed and drew his sidearm and his cutlass and as the other Wrynd pounced he went to work. Vania was oblivious to the battle raging around her as she tore at the dead deputy with teeth and claw.

Harley ducked out of the way of one rushing zombie and took another down with a pulse blast as his cutlass tore through the arm of another. Two more were rushing toward him and as he turned he saw Quinlan strike one across the head with a mighty swing of his baseball bat. Harley blasted the two coming and Quinlan dropped the bloody bat and opened fire with the pulse rifle. Harley dove to the ground as the young man demonstrated perhaps the greatest spectacle of poor marksmanship Harley had ever witnessed. He hit nothing he aimed at, but he did distract the Wrynd enough for Harley to finish the job. When he holstered his sidearm eight of the 10 zombies were dead on the highway. 

Orrin still stood where he had, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched Vania feed on the dead deputy. It was becoming a gruesome scene as the woman bathed in his blood. Orrin was obviously pleased but made no move to take part.

Harley stepped into the dead animal ring toward Vania and she stopped feeding and looked his way with wildness in her eyes. She was coiled and ready to strike. He knew that when she leapt toward him she would move fast, perhaps faster than he could manage to counter. He hadn’t seen many faster in his life and again understood why Quinlan had come for her.

Quinlan took a step toward her as well and he dropped the pulse rifle on the ground and knelt in front of her, his eyes brimming with tears.“Vania. It’s me. It’s Quin.”