Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) (28 page)

“A minute ago you said I should mind my own business.”

“That was before I knew that she was your soul mate.”

“She’s not my soul mate.”

“Of course she is.” She reached up and pulled the satchel off his shoulder. “Now, go get her before it’s too late.”

Tanner watched as Korn stomped around the circle, pumping his weapon in the air like a teenager trying to impress friends at a college kegger. Issa was little more than a prize to him, another conquest to be claimed. Perhaps the subjugation of women stemmed from their widespread infertility, or maybe it was simply another manifestation of the rage brought on by the virus. Whatever the cause, Tanner could not allow it to go unchallenged. When he looked at Issa, he didn’t see the scars or glossy black eyes. He saw only a vibrant, beautiful woman. A woman who needed her champion.

“One more thing,” Samantha said, pushing him forward.

“What?”

“Don’t lose.”

Korn was reaching down to pick up the end of Issa’s leather strap when Tanner stepped into the circle.

“Not so fast, bub.”

The big man looked more amused than concerned. He straightened up and shouted something unintelligible to Marlo.

“He wants to know who you are and why you have challenged him.”

Tanner took a deep breath to appear as large as possible.

“Tell him that I’m Tanner, and I challenge him because I can.”

She shouted something back to Korn, and the man laughed as he dropped the leather strap.

For her part, Issa stood in utter shock, her eyes wide and jaw hanging open.

Tanner gave her a quick nod.

She responded by mouthing something that was either “How can this be?” or “You’re covered in fleas.” Both, he thought, were understandable, especially given his less than perfect hygiene over the past few days.

Tanner slowly reached down and picked up the fallen man’s nail board. It was a standard two-by-four, cut to four feet in length. A half-dozen masonry nails had been driven through one end, the sharp tips now coated in rust and dried blood.

Korn advanced with quick confident strides, slapping the board against his hand. Not only did he have six inches and forty pounds on Tanner, his body had also mutated to use the extra mass more effectively. Long, thick arms, combined with powerful neck and shoulder muscles, gave him the upper body strength of two men. What was most unusual, however, was the ridge of bone that had developed along the center line of his skull, like the sagittal crest found on great apes.

“The lady obviously doesn’t want to go with you,” Tanner said, sidestepping to get outside of the swing that he knew was coming. And boy did it come. Fast and hard, sweeping through the air with a deep
whoosh
.

Tanner leaned back and brought his board down, hoping to end the fight with one good bop to the head. Unfortunately, by the time it made contact, Korn had already lunged forward with his nail board raised. The two boards clunked together so hard that Tanner nearly lost his grip.

Afraid that he might drop it, Tanner jerked the board back. The sharp nails caught on the edge of Korn’s board, and for an instant their weapons interlocked. Rather than try to use his superior strength to disarm Tanner, Korn stepped in and drove the other end of his board forward like the point of an oversized police baton. The flat of the wood thumped against Tanner’s chest, bruising his flesh and forcing him to take a step back. Korn immediately stepped forward with the same strike again, but as he did, Tanner twisted his own board and batted it away.

The two men squared off, slowly circling one another. The crowd had grown, and several hundred of the infected now pressed in on one another to see the fight. Many shouted and hollered, but none seemed to be cheering for either of the contestants. It was simply the fight they relished.

Tanner took a deep breath and grimaced as the muscles around his sternum ached. Nothing broken perhaps, but the fight was not going well.

“Try a little harder!” shouted Samantha.

He glanced back, and she made a little pushing motion, as if to say, “Go on. Go get him.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. “That really helps.”

Taking her cue, Tanner went on the offensive, swinging the board from right to left and then back again, over and over until his arms were barely strong enough to hold the heavy stick. Not a single strike hit Korn. This was a dance the big man had done many times before, and Tanner accepted that he wasn’t going to best him in a fair fight. With the nailed end of the board now dragging on the stone floor, he slumped forward in defeat, holding up a finger as if asking for a moment to recover.

Korn’s eyes narrowed and he charged forward, the board cocked back as he prepared to drive the nails into the side of Tanner’s head. An instant before he started his swing, Tanner dropped his board and lunged forward with both hands extended. By the time Korn managed to get the board in motion, Tanner was already in too close. Like a baseball player being crowded at home plate, Korn tried to lean away, giving himself a few more inches to swing. But it was not to be.

Tanner hit him like freight train, lifting him off his feet and driving him down to the tunnel floor. Korn reluctantly dropped his nail board, but not before Tanner had punched him in the face. The man’s skull had grown so thick that it was like beating on a cinder block, but Tanner continued to swing, left, right, left, right. Blow after blow rained down, mashing and mangling the brute beneath him.

Korn bucked him off, and Tanner rolled sideways, firing a roundhouse kick to the side of his jaw. The blow unhinged his mandible, leaving his teeth clacking together with a terrible overbite. Korn turned his head as he struggled with both hands to push his jaw back into place. By the time he did, Tanner was sliding in behind him, his forearm wrapped tightly around the big man’s throat.

With his jaw finally repositioned, Korn pulled at the arm. To keep him from escaping, Tanner wrapped both legs around the man’s torso and lay back, stretching him out as he set the choke. Korn fought for another long hard minute, but when it was over, he lay unconscious, his head tipped forward with his chin resting on his chest. Tanner rolled free and stood up. There were no cheers, no shouts of joy or triumph. Everyone simply stared. It was an unexpected outcome, but one they were apparently willing to accept.

Marlo rushed over. “Hurry. Take your prize into the tent before anyone else decides to challenge you.”

“She’s not my prize,” he growled. “She’s a free woman, and she can go where she wants.”

Marlo grabbed his arm, and her jagged fingernails gouged into his skin.

“No! Her life is yours now. If you don’t take her, they will see her as unworthy and cast her out.”

Tanner looked around the circle. People were confused by his hesitation, and confused psychopaths were never a good thing. He turned and walked over to Issa.

“Hello again,” he said with a nod.

She blinked as if trying to free herself from a trance.

“How can you be here?” She touched her fingers to his temple. “Your eyes… you’re one of us now.”

“Best if we talk about that later.” He started to remove the strap from her wrists, but she pulled away.

“My hands must remain bound as you take me into the tent.”

“Issa, you can go free. I’m not about to—”

“No. I’m yours to take.” She looked toward the tent. “You
have
to take me.”

Tanner glanced back at Samantha, and she shooed him with her hands and mouthed, “What are you waiting for? Go!”

He turned back to Issa and let out a sigh.

“Okay, darlin’, but if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

Before she knew what was happening, Tanner reached down and scooped her into his arms. At first she seemed startled, but as he marched toward the bridal tent, she leaned forward and laid her head against his thick chest.

Calling the sparse conditions of the emergency shelter a bridal tent was like calling a Motel 6 the Perivolas Honeymoon Suite. A dozen thick wool blankets lay spread across the floor, many of them soiled from couples that had consummated their claim before them. Two large tin cans had been filled with something flammable, and they now sputtered and spat as the fuel slowly burned down. Thanks to the cans, the tent was not only glowing with a soft orange light but also warm enough to be a Native American sweat lodge.

Tanner noticed none of it. A hunger was stirring in his belly, and it was unlike any he had felt before. Perhaps it was the infected blood pumping through his veins, or maybe it was the almost palpable heat radiating off Issa’s body. Whatever the cause, he felt himself growing nearly mad with desire. He tossed her onto the stack of blankets and stared down at her, his black eyes narrowing.  

She growled playfully, scrambling back across the bedding like a caged panther. Tanner accepted that what would happen next was outside his control. Perhaps he was no different than Korn, a brute taking his prize, but it was clear from her seductive pose that Issa would be taking him as well.

He pulled off his clothes and went after her. For nearly a minute, they chased, wrestled, and pawed at one another like two animals in heat. In the end, he held her tightly to the blanket, tasting her sweet mouth and feeling the press of her sensuous body. When he finally entered her, she screamed with delight. And when she did, a thunderous roar sounded from outside the tent.

The claim was now complete.

A sharp whisper sounded from outside the tent.

“Tanner!”

His eyes opened, but he made no effort to sit up. Issa lay across his chest, naked and spent.

“Tanner!” Samantha hissed, even louder this time.

“Sam?” He sat up and gently moved Issa to a stack of blankets.

“They’re coming for you. For us.”

He quickly stood up and dressed. As he was slipping on his boots, the flap to the tent flew open. Marlo barged in, glancing first to Issa and then to him.

“Maybe our customs aren’t so bad after all, eh?” she said with her toothless smile.

“What do you want?”

“Mother wants to see you.”

“Why?”

“Not for me to say, and not for you to refuse.”

Issa stirred and reached a hand for Tanner.

He leaned down and kissed her fingers softly.

“Rest. I’ll be back.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the tent on her bare skin.

Tanner motioned for Marlo to lead the way, and together they stepped outside. Samantha stood waiting.

“You okay?” he said.

She nodded. “You?”

He stretched his arms. “More or less.”

Marlo led them through a small crowd gathering in front of Mother’s tent. The sound of crying babies had been replaced with that of voices talking.

Tanner turned to Marlo. “What’s happening?”

She said nothing except, “Wait here.”

As she disappeared into the tent, Samantha turned to him.

“So… how’s your new wife?” she said, covering a smile.

“Funny.”

“Seriously, did you… you know, enjoy kissing her?”

The animal-like desire had quelled, but Tanner vividly recalled their incredible lovemaking.

“It was all right.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

Samantha looked back at the bridal tent.

“Is she coming with us?”

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

Before he could say more, Marlo pulled the tent open and ushered them inside.

“Come, come. Mother’s waiting.”

When they got inside, they found Korn standing next to Mother. For a moment, Tanner thought it might be some kind of a trap.

The big man nodded to him, and there was surprisingly no malice in his eyes.

“My general tells me that you are a great warrior,” Mother said in her singsong voice. She lay where he had last seen her, but the nursing infants were nowhere to be seen. The sheet had also been pulled up to cover her six breasts, something for which Tanner was immensely thankful.

He returned Korn’s nod. “We went a round or two.”

“You asked for our help in overrunning the humans. Tell me again how you would do this, but keep in mind that every living soul in our family is precious to me.”