The Lingering (Book 2): Rangers (6 page)
La Roux led the women deeper into the thick undergrowth of the woodlands surrounding the Maxwell’s camp. He had to put as much distance between them and the camp as he could before Callum released the undead. He looked over his shoulder and saw most of the women were falling far behind him. He stopped and waited for the closest, Tilly’s sister, to catch up.
“What’s yer name?” La Roux whispered as she reached him.
“Isabelle, but folks call me Izzy.”
“Listen up, Izzy. Unless we get a move on, we’re going to end up dead.”
“I know that,” she hissed. “But none of us have eaten in days. We’re weak and we’re tired.”
“That’s as may be, but you’ll all be just as dead if either the men in that camp, or the Lingerers catch us. Do what you have to, but make it clear to the rest of the women that they’re moving too slow.”
“Why don’t you tell ‘em?”
“I think they’ve had enough of men barking orders at ‘em.”
At that moment, the sound of distant gunshots filled the air.
“Is that your friend?” Izzy asked as she looked back toward the camp.
“I think it may be. If he’s using his gun, then he’s in real trouble.”
“I know of a cave just east of here, and only us women know of it. After severe beatings we use it to hide out in. We could wait there ‘til your friend catches us up.”
La Roux nodded. “You take the others to the cave, I’m going to go and check on Callum. Just in case I can’t find you, have someone keep an eye out for us.”
Izzy looked scared, but she complied with La Roux’s request.
The big Cajun watched as the women trooped past him, and then he headed back in the direction he had just come. He felt bad for abandoning them so soon, but he knew he had no choice. Everything told him Callum was in trouble, and he would not abandon him to either the Maxwells, or the undead.
Izzy had her head screwed on, and he knew she would make sure her kin made it safely to the cave. Things never went smoothly, and improvisation was the hallmark of a good Ranger. It was time to improvise. With luck, he would find his companion merely pinned down. If that were the case, then he hoped for a quick return.
* * *
La Roux navigated his huge body silently through the dark undergrowth of the woods, and despite his concerns over Callum’s safety, he did not allow himself to panic. He knew the young man was most likely the best Ranger he had ever met. No matter how bad things got, Callum never seemed flustered or intimidated by events unfolding around him. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Callum Wentworth.
More shots rang out from the direction of the camp, and La Roux quickened his pace. He knew Callum intended to create as much havoc as he could, but the sounds of gunfire somehow frightened the Cajun. He knew Callum only ever used his gun in the most extreme of circumstances, the rest of the time he relied on silent forms of killing, such as his tomahawk. If the young Ranger had resorted to using his gun, then things must be grim.
After a few minutes of running, La Roux could hear the sounds of undead all around him. He drew to a stop, pulled his large hunting knife, and readied himself for their inevitable attack. To his left, a blood chilling cry of the undead filled the air, and he spun on his heels to face the threat. He had heard such calls of the undead before, and he knew it meant only one thing … Lingerers were about to feast and they were calling for they kind to join them. La Roux did not think; he just reacted. Every muscle in his body leaped into adrenaline filled action, and he charged toward the terrifying bellows.
This is what Rangers were born to do. They faced death head on, and never flinched in the face of overwhelming odds. La Roux’s heart pumped adrenaline to every cell of his body, and an almost euphoric sense of anticipation filled him. As far as he and every other Ranger was concerned, Lingerers were a blight that needed to be eradicated. Facing the undead always filled him with fear, but the greater feeling that prevailed over him was one of good. Fear always faded because he knew that if he died in battle, then at least he died ridding the world of the undead. He did not suppose this bought him a free ticket into heaven, but he hoped it got him close.
La Roux burst into the clearing and abruptly halted. Two Lingerers were about to feed on an unconscious man laid in the dirt. It took La Roux a second to realize the Lingerers’ intended meal was Callum! With his shock dissipating, La Roux leaped to the young Ranger’s aid.
One of the Lingerers already had its mouth a mere inch from Callum’s face, so La Roux threw his knife at it with all his might. The blade tore into the creature’s skull and near sliced its head in two. The second Lingerer turned its attention to the Cajun and charged him like an enraged bull. La Roux parried the charging creature, and sent it headfirst into a nearby tree. The foul thing crumpled to the dirt, but it was far from out of the fight. As the Lingerer struggled back to its feet, La Roux pulled his neckerchief up over his mouth and nose—so as to block unwanted Lingerer gore from entering his system—then moved to finish it. However, the Cajun had hardly moved before strong hands gripped him from behind. More Lingerers had arrived.
La Roux threw his full body weight backward, and slammed the new arrival to the dirt beneath him. No sooner than they had landed in the dirt, then La Roux rolled to one side and grabbed up a nearby rock. The creature, which had just been beneath him, lunged forward, but the rock in La Roux’s hand met it halfway. He drove the rock into the creature’s mouth with the speed and force of a runaway steam train. The Lingerers jaw shattered, and La Roux pounded its head with the rock twice more. The Cajun now knelt near the corpse of the Lingerer that had his knife protruding from its skull. He retrieved his weapon and rounded on the Lingerer he had just thrown into the tree.
Two more Lingerers stood at the creature’s side, and all three charged La Roux almost as one. The big Cajun widened his stance and readied himself for their onslaught. As the first creature reached him, he raised his forearm and allowed it to sink its teeth into the thick leather of his protective coat. With that ghoul occupied, his attention turned to the second of the three. With its mouth open so wide it almost looked as if it had unhinged, it leaped into the air and flew toward his throat. The Cajun held his ground, and lunged out with his knife. With a grisly thunk-slurp, his blade found the creature’s skull and entered bone and brain alike. The ghoul’s aerobatic flight stopped as soon as his head slammed into the knife’s hilt. With its brains obliterated by his blade, it dropped harmlessly to the dirt at the big Cajun’s feet.
Now the third of the undead drew closer, so La Roux drove his shoulder into the creature latched to his arm, and charged toward the third Lingerer. He hit it hard and continued back toward the tree the creature had hit only moments earlier. The three of them, two undead and one living, slammed into the tree, which made the Lingerer chewing on his arm release its bite. As quick as a snake, La Roux pierced its head with his blade, and then he did the same to the one pinned to the tree. More groaning filled the clearing behind him, and La Roux turned to see at least ten undead heading his way.
He holstered his knife and pulled both his six-shooters.
Damn the noise, the time for hand to teeth combat is over. Now the real killing will begin,
he thought as he prepared for the onslaught.
Raising both guns at once, La Roux moved toward the undead and opened fire. His breathing was level, as were his emotions. He had done this many times before. One head, one bullet. He opened fire and began felling the foul smelling creatures who were so intent on tasting his blood. With each shot, a Lingerer fell, but almost instantly another took its place. The first of his six-shooters ran dry, and he threw it in the air and caught it by its barrel. The metal was hot, but his leather gloves absorbed much of the heat. Soon, his other gun ran dry; again, he threw it in the air and caught it by the barrel.
He now stood astride Callum like a sentinel. A creature missing half its face ran at him, but the Cajun brought one of his guns down on its head like a club. Its skull exploded like a ripe melon, bathing both the Cajun and Callum in blood and brains. He only hoped none of the gore made its way into Callum’s unconscious mouth, but there was little he could do if it had. He had no time to worry about such things, so instead he concentrated on killing. Again and again, the creatures attacked, but like Samson with his donkey’s jawbone, La Roux clubbed them away with ease.
Before the tide of undead subsided, the Cajun had caved in the skulls of around ten undead with his six-shooters. With his chest heaving from his exertion, La Roux waited for more undead to arrive, but none came. He looked around the tiny moonlit clearing, and counted close to thirty lifeless bodies. Had he really killed that many Lingerers single-handedly? He guessed he had.
A groan brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked down at the man beneath him. Callum was beginning to wake, which meant it was time to go. La Roux stepped to one side as he holstered his blood soaked guns, then he bent to pick up the injured Ranger at his feet. In the mayhem of protecting his fallen companion, La Roux had noticed very little about Callum’s condition. It was then he noticed his friend was missing a hand.
The Cajun froze. Had Callum been bitten? La Roux drew his knife and readied himself to dispatch the young Ranger. He placed the tip of his blade inside Callum’s ear, and then took a closer look at the young Ranger’s injured wrist. He lifted the mutilated stump closer to his eyes and studied the wound closely. It showed no signs of teeth marks. In fact, it looked like a clean cut that had been sealed by fire or heat.
“Did you do this yourself?” La Roux whispered as he removed the tip of his knife from Callum’s ear. “Did you do this to save yourself?”
Callum mumbled something from his semiconscious lips, but La Roux could not make out what his young friend said. To his rear, and far too close, he heard the sounds of men shouting to each other. His questions could wait, it was time to move.
As gently as he could, the Cajun lifted Callum into his arms and turned to go. For the briefest of moments, he contemplated staying to fight the men who had caused his friend so much pain, but one look at Callum’s pale face told him that would not be a good idea. With that, La Roux ran off in the direction of the cave, and hopefully at least a small amount of safety.
Izzy stood hidden on an out crop of rocks approximately one hundred yards from the mouth of the cave, in which hid the rest of the women from camp Maxwell. She shook slightly as she strained her eyes and peered off into the dark and distant tree line. She shook not because of cold or hunger, but because fear seemed to fill every inch of her body.
Fear was something she and the other women in the cave behind her had grown used to. So constant was the sensation that she had almost accepted it as normal, or at least as normal as life in the mountains would ever seem. Just as she accepted winter was cold and Lingerers ate living flesh, fear had become a constant. In other words, fear was something she could do little to relieve or abate. Yet the fear she felt now was something new … more palpable, more threatening.
For the first time in a long time, she saw a little light at the end of the tunnel. She saw freedom for not only herself, but also the other women back in the cave. The fear she now felt was not the fear caused by constant beatings and rape, but rather the fear of losing what little glimmer of hope she and the others had. If the Rangers failed to return, then she and the others would surely be captured. The beatings they received as punishment would be severe, but what really frightened her was the thought of never being free of her family. Freedom hung on the two Rangers, and if they failed to return, then all was lost.
It had been quite some time since La Roux had left them to go in search of his companion, and Izzy had an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She suddenly felt sure that her family had captured not only the big Cajun’s colleague, but also La Roux himself. If that was the case, then it was only a matter of time until her family tortured the truth out of them and learned the whereabouts of her and the other women.
She looked back toward the cave and pondered if it would not be wiser for her and the others to just run. After all, when had any man treated them fairly? Were the Rangers any different from every other man in her life? Surely they would abandon her at the first signs of being in danger. With her mind made up, she started for the cave but stopped when she heard movement to her left. She crouched and peered toward the increasing sound of foot falls.
Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she felt sure that whoever approached her could hear it too. She felt around in the dirt by her feet, and her hand stumbled upon a large stick. She picked it up and readied herself for a fight. If this was one of the men from the camp, then she would not give up without at least the semblance of a fight. With luck, she would be able to brain him before he realized what had happened.
With these thoughts ricocheting around her mind, a massive dark figure suddenly appeared in front of her … and it seemed to be carrying something. Without thinking, she leaped to her feet, let out a scream, and then swung her stick straight at the figures head. The mass moved and her stick broke across the shapes massive shoulders. She lunged forward—hands held like claws—and ripped at the figures face.
“Hold up,” the shadowy mass yelled. “It’s me … La Roux.”
Panting from both exertion and the sudden flow of adrenaline, Izzy collapsed backward and fell to the dirt.
“I’m sorry,” she panted as she struggled to slow her thumping heart. “I thought ya were one of the men from the camp.”
“They’re sure enough out there, but I managed to lead them astray. I’m sure no one followed me, but just in case, we need to get inside that cave and out of sight.”
Izzy struggle to her feet, it was then she realized La Roux held an injured man in his arms.
“What happened to him?” she asked as she drew a little closer.
“I don’t rightly know, but he’s lost a hand.”
She moved back. “Was it taken by a Lingerer? ‘Cos if it was, then he’s already as good as dead.”
“The wound is a clean cut and it’s been cauterized. I think he cut it off himself. Listen, we need to get him in the cave so I can treat his wound, so can we talk about this inside.”
“Of course, of course … follow me.”
* * *
Izzy led La Roux to a small thicket of bushes, which nestled at the bottom of a large rock face. From behind the bush, the faint sound of women talking in hushed tones could be just heard. If someone stood a mere few feet farther away, then they would hear nothing.
Izzy pushed the foliage to one side and revealed a tiny opening at the base of the rock face. She looked at the opening, then back at La Roux, and realized the giant man would struggle to fit through the opening. As it was, the only way to enter the cave was on hands and knees, but even if La Roux dragged himself in on his belly, it would still be an extremely tight fit. She looked up into the Cajun’s large, but kindly face and saw he was thinking the same.
“First things first,” he said. “We need to get Callum inside, so I suggest you go inside and bring back a couple of women to help us get him through that tiny little hole.”
Izzy nodded and shot inside the cave. She reappeared a few moments later, followed by two women who looked barely out of their teens.
“You two stay just inside the opening,” La Roux said as he nodded to the two new arrivals. “I’ll lay Callum head first by the opening, then you two take an arm each and drag him in. Izzy you push from behind. Once yer all in, I’ll see if I can fit through the opening myself. I must admit it’ll be like threading a camel through an eye of a needle, but I’ll give it a go.”
The two young women, Mary and Josie, positioned themselves snugly in the opening, and then La Roux lowered his still unconscious ward down to them. He removed Callum’s backpack and then nodded for them to pull him in. With grunts of effort, they instantly started dragging him inside. As his waist disappeared through the opening, Izzy dropped to her knees and started to push at his butt from behind. After a minute or so, Izzy popped her head out of the cave and smiled up at La Roux.
“Your turn,” she said as she grabbed Callum’s pack and started to back her way back inside the cave.
La Roux shook his head woefully and removed his own pack from his back. With a sigh, he threw it to the ground and dropped to his belly behind it. Using his elbows and knees, he began to traverse the small opening to the cave. Through it all, he pushed his pack forward with his head. It took him nearly five minutes to squeeze through the opening, and the ensuing ten yards of narrow passage that led to the main cave.