Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) (11 page)

Annette nodded. “That’s why I called an election.”

“I figured that. And after a w
hile I realized it’s for the best. Doc needs an ally, not just another follower.”

Annette stopped and smiled at Marcus. They stood in the front hallway, the walls covered with old photographs of his family from the bygone days when the City States still ke
pt a semblance of civilization. Yeah, she was The Doctor’s ally, and if he was too pigheaded to see it at least Marcus did. Because while they might argue over who decided what and what regulations should be passed, when it came right down to it, they were all on the same side.

For some reason that prisoner, Jeb, came into her thoughts. Maybe that’s why he was so anxious to live here. It wasn’t just the food and the electricity, it was the end to wandering, the end to sleeping next to your weapon every nigh
t. This was why the Burbs grew every year as more and more scavengers settled down and tried to find a way to make a living in the precarious local economy.

They continued into the kitchen. Rosie was just lifting a spit with two sizzling rabbits off the fire. She placed them in a pan and took another pan off the fire that contained the dripping. Annette licked her lips. Out in the Burbs she only had meat once or twice a week. Marcus was a citizen, though, with market stalls and fields and herds. He could trade for fresh rabbit anytime he wanted.

The kitchen was one of the nicer ones she’d seen, built by Marcus’ own hands and beautified by Rosie’s relentless optimism. Near the slate fireplace stood a wash bucket and a sink scavenged from some ruin from the Old Times. The other side of the room was taken up by a wobbly old card table that doubled as the dining room table. An array of homemade chairs stood around it, durable but not fancy, like Marcus and Rosie. Fly Daddy Bradley’s place was ten times more luxurious, and infinitely less welcoming.

The atmosphere came thanks to Rosie. The window, framed with scrounged glass, had a heavy hand-knit curtain to keep the cold out and the heat in. The walls were decorated like most people’s with photos taken from old
magazines. Rosie had chosen country scenes with lush fields and babbling brooks and tidy red farmhouses. They reminded Annette of the novels she liked.

Annette sat down as Rosie and Marcus bustled around the kitchen. They were both over sixty yet managed t
o move with energy, although that limp Marcus had made her worry.

He wasn’t hit
,
Annette thought
.
Perhaps he strained a muscle. It should have healed by now, though.

Marcus set down a jug of beer.

“Best in the Burbs,” Marcus smiled.

“You mean Roy’s brew,”
Annette smiled back.

“Yup. I’m sure you get to drink it free all the time.”

“Not at work. I have to keep my wits about me in a bar full of drunk scavengers.”

“You’ll have to keep your wits about you twice as much in your new job,” Rosie scolded. “I don’t l
ike you running around the wildlands after all those criminals.”

Annette shrugged. Running around the wildlands was what she and Jackson did best. But that made her realize something. Roy was going to have to get himself some new bouncers. She and Frank wo
uldn’t have time anymore. She felt a tug of regret thinking that she wouldn’t be hanging around with her best friend every night.

At least it was getting her associate status, and eventually citizenship. Pablo deserved to grow up inside the walls.

As if on cue her son tore into the room and plopped down in one of the chairs. A moment later Catherine and Jessica followed.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Annette told Jessica. “How are you settling in?”

“Great!” the girl beamed. “There’s lots of cool kids here. The wildlands were so lonely.”

“I grew up in the wildlands and you’re right. It’s best to find a group and stick with it.”

Jessica’s mouth fell. “Father didn’t trust any of them.”

Jessica was about fourteen and had shown up a few weeks before wi
th a weird scavenger who claimed to be her father but looked too old. Within a few days he had distributed a bunch of radios that only received Radio Hope, united the Burbs to demand to be let inside the walls before the Righteous Horde arrived, dropped off his daughter with Marcus and Rosie, and then disappeared back into the wildlands.

Annette had only seen the man once more, looting Mitch’s corpse after she took Mitch out with her sniper’s rifle. A black mood settled on her. Everyone thought she was a ki
ller, and she supposed she was. That didn’t make killing any easier, especially when it wasn’t in self-defense.

It was self-defense
,
she reminded herself
.
He would have told Abe where Radio Hope was, and that would have been bad for everyone.

Catherine, a
girl Jessica’s age who had instantly become her best friend, pulled Annette out of her memories by saying, “I’m trying to find Jessica a job.”

“That would be great!” Rosie said, putting down a tureen with the rabbits basted in sauce, carrots, and onion. “H
ow about you write down Radio Hope’s broadcasts like Catherine?”

Jessica shrugged. “My writing isn’t good enough. No way can I write as fast as she does.”

“Wish you’d reconsider working at one of my market stalls,” Marcus said.

Jessica’s mouth turned down again. “You know my father wouldn’t approve.”

Annette shook her head. While you had to watch your kids in this world, Jessica’s father took that to almost obsessive levels. Only the fact that cultists were ravaging the wildlands convinced him to let her stay with Marcus while he went off to do whatever he was doing.

Or was that the real reason? Annette wondered. Nobody knew anything about the man, not even his name. And from what she’d heard from Marcus, Jessica didn’t tell them anything more than they alre
ady knew.

They all tucked into dinner, the kids wolfing down their food as usual. Annette wasn’t far behind. Rosie’s cooking was the best in town, and it was warm and cozy in this little house. Between mouthfuls she looked around. Yeah, this is the kind of
home she wanted to give Pablo one day.

Play your cards right and you’ll
be citizen. Then you can have all this
,
she told herself
.
The problem is, you have to get The Doctor’s approval, and if you keep choosing the Burbs over New City, he’ll put you right back where he found you.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jeb you are a fucking idiot. You had them eating out of your hand and one slip of the tongue destroyed all the trust you had built up in them.

He walked down the stairs with Clyde behind him. He glanced back at the guy. Now that he may have blown it, he needed to reconsider his options.

Option 1: Fight. Clyde was on the wrong side of 50 and had a paunch. In a fair fight he could take him no problem. But it wasn’t a fair fight. Clyde had a pistol leveled at his back and the confidence with which he held it showed he knew how to use it. The chances of overpowering him, getting the pistol, taking The Doctor hostage, and getting the hell out of there were too damn slim for his liking.

Option 2: Run. No, Clyde would sh
oot him in the back, or at least in the leg if he was feeling charitable.

Option 3: Go on the hunt for The Pure One and see what he could do along the way. Not a good option, but it was the only option that wouldn’t see him with a bullet in his body within
the next few minutes.

Jeb tried to look meek as they headed out of the warehouse, through the gate, and to the enclosure where the machete men were cooped up. A guard came down from the wall with the key. Keeping a close eye on the men inside, he unlocked
the padlock and chain fastening the spools of razor wire together and opened it enough to let Jeb slip through.

Clyde pointed to one of the machete men. “You, come on out. I got some questions for you.”

Jeb almost let out a sigh of relief to see Clyde hadn’t picked the one who had spotted his little trick with the knife. The man shuffled out and the guard fastened the lock again. Clyde turned to Jeb.

“You just sit tight. Annette’s got a ton of stuff to do so you probably won’t be heading out for a couple of days. I’ll make sure you get full rations to bring your strength up.”

“What about us?” one of the other machete men asked.

“You’ll get what you’re
given and be grateful for it,” Clyde growled. He turned to the man he had brought out. “Come on.”

Shit, he’s going to question us separately one by one.

Jeb managed to catch the machete man’s eye. One look was enough. The man looked away fearfully and bowed his head.

As Clyde, the prisoner, and the guard walked away, Jeb turned to the other three machete men and treated them to the same look. They all cringed. He stepped up close to the one who had seen the trick he had pulled with Leonard. He put his face
inches from the man’s own, intruding on his space. The guy looked away and froze.

What wimps. No wonder we lost.

Jeb looked back at the wall, made of steel plates, rocks, and scrap metal. The base was a row of old buses filled with sandbags. It was the toughest wall they’d faced on their rampage across the wildlands, but they should have been able to take it. It was the fault of losers like this that they hadn’t, that and the willpower of the defenders. He’d always thought that the man with nothing to lose was the most dangerous; now he realized that actually the most dangerous man was the one who had everything to lose.

I want to live here.

He was surprised to feel a deep sadness that that was almost certainly not going to happen. It wasn’t just that this was the safest place, or that it had the most comforts and best supply of food. No, it was more than that. It was. . .

Fuck it. Focus on what you can get, not what you can’t. You aren’t going to live to be a hundred dreaming stupid dreams.

The sight of a young boy walking by gave him an idea. It was Annette’s kid, strolling along without a care in the world while tossing his baseball up in the air and catching it. He was heading for the gate and passing close by the barbed wire enclosure.

The boy glanced ov
er at the prisoners. His and Jeb’s eyes met. Jeb put on a smile. The boy didn’t smile back.

“You hit a homer?” he asked.

The boy stopped and looked at him uncertainly. “No. I got a double, though.”

“Not bad. I used to get a ton of homers though thanks to my dad. Carved the best bats I’ve ever seen. Could hit a homer every time. He taught me how to carve my own. I make them as good as he did.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Hey Pablo!” the guard on the wall shouted. “Don’t talk to the prisoners. Get on g
oing where you’re going.”

The boy hurried through the gate. He gave one last curious look over his shoulder. Jeb nodded to him.

Nicely played, Jeb. Watch your step, though, and go slow.

An hour later Clyde came and gave them dinner. He was good to his word and Jeb got a double portion. It was more than he and the other Elect got to eat on the march unless they had just ransacked a farm. Food was always in short supply for everyone except The Pure One and his bodyguards.

As he gobbled down his food he saw Annette and her son Pablo come out of the gate holding hands. Pablo glanced in his direction and he gave the kid a smile and a nod. Annette shot him an unreadable look that was neither hostile nor welcoming, more curious, and led her son into the outer city that she had referred to as the Burbs.

At least
that was better than the last look she gave me.

He watched them go, a strange feeling inside him. How long had it been since he’d seen a mother and child walking hand in hand peacefull
y down a street? Sure, the street was a muddy strip running through a shantytown and the mother wore a pistol at her belt and a shotgun strapped to her back, but Annette was still a mother, and Pablo was still a child.

Lucky. Annette, you are so damned lucky.

A minute later a bell rang on the wall and a pair of guards closed the big gate.

Jeb frowned. So the people in the Burbs don’t sleep inside the walls, even with all these machete men wandering around nearby? And Annette had to check her guns before
she could enter the gate, even though she’s sheriff.

Sheriff of the Burbs
, not New City
,
Jeb reminded himself
.
There are two towns here, not one. Maybe moving to the Burbs wouldn’t be as hard as moving to New City. Plenty of scavengers in the Burbs, none in New City. Yeah, maybe it isn’t impossible after all.

Jeb thought about that a long time, drifting off to sleep and dreams of a little frame house tucked close to the walls, with a baseball diamond on the front lawn.

A sharp pain in the shoulder tore him from his fantasies. He blinked, looked around. He heard shouting. There was a whoosh of air as something flew in front of his face. Another whoosh of air and one of the machete men cried out in pain.

Jeb sat up. Not far off a crowd was shouting at them and
throwing rocks.

“Maniacs!”

“Murderers!”

“String them up!”

The crowd drew closer. More figures hurried out of the Burbs, silhouetted by the few lights still burning there. Jeb guessed it was past midnight. Two more machete men got hit by flying rocks. Jeb curled up in a ball just as a stone ploughed into the earth near his head and spattered his face with dirt.

A rifle shot cracked through the air. Jeb clung to the earth, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.

The crowd stopped. Their shouting died down.

“Get back!” someone shouted from the New City wall. “These are our prisoners and we’re keeping them for questioning. Go back home.”

“These scum killed my brother!” one man shouted. He stood unsteadily, weaving back and forth with a rock in each hand. Jeb figured he was drunk.

“They were offered their lives if they surrendered and gave information. You don’t like it you can go talk to that new sheriff of yours,” the guard shouted back.

‘That sheriff of yours,
’
Jeb thought
.
Yeah, this really is two cities. They’re lucky they got their shit together before we showed up. The question is, will they be able to keep their shit together?

“Damn right I’ll talk to her,” the drunken man said. “Didn’t vote for that bitch anyway. I voted for Charley Shibell.”

An angry female voice cut through the night.

“That bitch didn’t want your lazy-ass vote anyway, Ross Poole!”

Jeb recognized Annette’s tough but unmistakably feminine form emerge from the darkness.

“Damn, you’re drunker than when I kicked you out of $87,953 a few hours ago. What hole did you crawl into?”

The crowd had settled down. Many backed off. Ross stood his ground, unsteady but determined.

“I don’t see why we’re keeping these sons of bitches,” he slurred.

“I could say the same about you,” Annette snapped.

“They killed my brother!”

“You haven’t talked to your brother since he stole your wife a year ago. You’re just looking for trouble,” she said and kicked him in the rear end.

“Hey!” he yelped and backed off. A couple of people in the crowd laughed.

That killed the tension. After a bit more shouting from Annette and the guard on the wall, the crowd dispersed. Annette came up to the wire.

“Everyone OK in here?”

“Yeah, none of us got hit too bad,” one of the machete men replied.

“Thanks, Annette. Seems like you’re serious about upholding the law,” Jeb said.

“Lucky for your neck,” she snorted, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She turned and walked away back to the Burbs. For a second time that night Jeb watched her go.

Damn, what a chick.

Jeb rolled himself up in his blanket and tried to get back to sleep. He found it difficult. Every now and then he cast nervous glances in the direction of the Burbs, but that wasn’t what was keeping him up. It was thoughts of Annette. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman like that. During the march he’d gotten all the pussy he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. They’d either cry or lie there all stiff with their eyes closed like that nice little piece he usually took. What was her name? Donna. She’d kept him warm at night even if she acted cold. But a woman like Annette, well, that would be a whole different story. Probably fucked like a demon when she got the chance, which he guessed wasn’t often. With all her responsibilities and tough-girl attitude she was probably itching for it.

Who knew? His life had taken so many weird twists and turns maybe he had a chance.

Jeb finally drifted off to sleep, and this time he wasn’t dreaming about baseball.