The Survivors: Book One (5 page)

“No way she’s still there, man. Look at all those flames.”

Melvin shook his head, eyeing the storm clouds that were currently raining black, ashy flakes over them.

“Gail'll be there. I told her to stay.”

“I don’t know, man.” Henry was looking at the roof of the farmhouse they could just barely see. It wasn’t his girlfriend, and he clearly didn’t want to go where there was such obvious danger.

“I do. We’ll make it by dark. We just gotta get started moving shit again.”

“It’s an overpass, Mel. No stores if the storm gets bad.”

Melvin waved a dirty hand. “These cars’re the grocery now - and we’re not stuck anywhere. The van’ll go through any storm, even a Norther.”

“Yeah, I guess.” There was deep reluctance in Henry’s voice, mostly because of the rotting corpses in so many of the cars.

Melvin's laughter was mean. “The bitch’ll look for supplies while we’re shovin' that bus over. We’ll just chain her to the bumper like usual.”

Samantha’s gut clenched with nervous anger and hope. Maybe she would find a real weapon while searching those cars.

“Turn off that engine! Get out here, Slut! Time to earn your keep."

Samantha was careful to put heavy loathing into her voice. “In the snow?"

She could hear them snickering as she pulled the keys from the ignition with trembling hands, and she stuffed them up under the dash. Hopefully the jumble of wires would hide the keys long enough to buy her a head start if fate gave her the chance to run…although she wasn’t sure she would. There was too much hate to just scurry away now.

“Yes, in the snow! Come on!”

Melvin opened the side door, and Sam quickly began pulling on her flats.

“Get out here.”

He was leaning inside now, and she tried to control her voice and pounding heart. This was it.  “I’m in a skirt. I’ll freeze.”

“Then hurry up and find some clothes in them cars out there - you too, but only dresses or skirts. My women don’t wear the pants, I do.”

Samantha nodded obediently. Wanting desperately to spit in his face, she held her leg out for him to clamp the hated tow-chain over the raw, bruised skin of her ankle, and sighed in relief when he removed the rawhide leash from her neck. She forced herself to give him a small smile. Melvin was the one she might
have
to kill to get away. It would be best if he thought she was accepting her fate, so she would have the element of surprise.

As she stepped nervously down into the half-inch of gray and black flakes, her shoe landed on a slick piece of wrapping paper with a bloody Santa smiling happily at her. She slipped, awkwardly, crying out as the van’s sharp door caught her leg. The rusty corner tore through her skirt and she hit the wet ground, landing hard on her ass, as blood welled.

The two painters were laughing, Melvin doubled over, and Samantha’s anger grew as cold as the wind.

“Get shoes too. Dumb-ass woman."

Samantha picked herself up, rubbing at her throbbing thigh. She wanted to scream that she had been grabbed and thrown onto a government chopper, that she hadn’t been planning to walk in the snow or anywhere else, but turned away before she could. Fighting back now was not part of the plan - a weapon was.

Her feet were ice within the first minute and she stomped to the farthest car she could reach- a long, brown, dented station wagon. The frozen vehicle was, thankfully, empty of remains, and she began to find small, useful treasures as soon as she ducked inside the front and began searching. She stayed at it steadily, anger flaring hotter when her nail caught on the chain and ripped off in a hot flash of pain.

Five minutes later, she was still searching the wagon. First darting a quick glance at the two men struggling with the tow chain, Samantha saw they weren’t paying attention to her, and took a moment to evaluate what she’d found- a fanny pack, a lighter, two Bic pens, one of which she slid behind her ear and covered with her dirty hair. Half a pack of smokes and one unopened can of Diet Coke completed the stash, and she shoved it all into the small pack before moving to the rear. This vehicles was so crammed with bags, suitcases, and boxes, it was a wonder there had been room for the driver.

The suitcase at the very bottom of the far floorboard was newer, just barely in reach…and full of women’s clothes and belongings, she realized, staring at the lacy bra she’d fished out. Her numb fingers went back to exploring the many pouches and slots.

In the last pocket, when she could almost feel Melvin headed her way, Samantha found the Taser.

The cold edge of power filled her as she sought, and found, the symbols for a fully-charged battery. She grinned harshly at the footsteps crunching closer… at the man who didn’t know the coming battle had just shifted her way.

“What are ya…?”

Sam hit the button as her arm was jerked around, and the vicious blast of electricity slammed into Melvin’s chest.

“Uuhhh..!”

He began twitching, letting go of her, and she stared coolly into his pain-filled eyes as she held the button in, watched him stumble back, teetering. The instant she let go, he thumped heavily to the wet, snowy ground and his eyes rolled back into his head.

His yellow, nicotine-stained knuckles landed on her foot and she smiled coldly, kicking his hand away. “Shoulda been nicer, Mel.”

Sam's taunt was low; her tight smile seething hatred.
That had felt good!
She tossed the weapon and jumble of wire darts into the wagon’s backseat as Melvin’s body continued to twitch as if he was touching a live line.

“Hey!" she shouted toward Henry, choosing her next move quickly. “Something's wrong with Mel!"

Henry came on the run and dropped to his knees in the snow beside his brother, who was now drooling, trying to talk - to warn him.

Sucking in air, Sam snatched the pen out of her hair, keeping it behind her back as she let the cap fall to the frozen ground.

“What is it? What happened? “Melvin’s eyes had closed, body stilling, and the painter was looking up at her in helpless fear. He’d forgotten that they weren’t in this together.

Sam shrugged, trying to match his tone and keep her body blocking his view of the wagon and the weapon. “A seizure?”

Henry looked back down, and Sam immediately lashed out - swinging from the hip and leaning her weight into the unexpected blow.

The pen plunged easily into Henry’s neck, making an awful ripping sound, and she jumped back as his body went rigid, blood squirting.

Eyes bulging, Henry’s arms jerked wildly as he started suffocating. The end of the pen was protruding from just above his Adam’s apple, blood raining down his black shirt in furious streams.

He collapsed across Melvin’s chest, unbelieving eyes glaring up at her from his purple face as he slowly died.

Sam sucked in a ragged breath, glorious in her victory…then cold, hard reason took over. She couldn’t stand here and wait for Melvin to recover! He was definitely the more dangerous of the two. As if to prove her thought, the surviving brother moaned. She got moving.

Samantha clenched her teeth against a surging stomach, and used her foot to push Henry’s bloody body over. She quickly removed the dead man’s bootlaces and bound Melvin’s hands and feet, shivering violently as he stirred again. With this setup, he wouldn’t even be able to stand, let alone run after her, which was good because he wouldn’t take her body for this. It would be her life.

Satisfied with his bonds, she took a minute to clear the blood from her hands, using the icy slush to scrub with. That done, she lit one of the cigarettes from the fanny pack and looked around, making her final choices. That icy feeling inside had little to do with the wind. She was a killer now and she would act like one again if she had to.

Sam already knew she would avoid the burning city, and the Badlands to the northwest - she wasn’t going anywhere she had already been or Melvin might think she would go. There was also no possibility of traveling the Rocky Mountains that littered her hazy view to the southeast, not alone and on foot.

To the west, more smoke was rising, backdropped by distant purple mountains, and she shivered harder. Yellowstone. Bad things were happening there. That only left due east, or south. Samantha pushed off the wave of fear that wanted to overwhelm her. NORAD was south. She could make it that far.

“Ooohh…”

Melvin was regaining consciousness, and Sam made sure she was out of his range as she tossed the cigarette into a deep-looking drift and stepped back over to the snow-covered wagon.

The black flakes fell thickly, the wind gusting harder, and she pulled the suitcase of clothes out and set it on the hood. Behind her, the trussed man came fully alert, twisting and turning.

“What the...? Henry! What’d ya do t' Henry?"

Samantha ignored him, stepping casually by the feet that tried to trip her, hated ankle chain rattling.

“You killed him!” He glared at her, struggling against his bonds. “I got the keys, Bitch! Come get ‘em!"

Sam did look at him then, cold, blue eyes choosing his fate. Did he need to die, too? That was the only kind of death she was okay with handing out – the
needed
kind, like for rapists.

“Come on, whore!"

Samantha grinned, stepping back to the wagon. “It won’t take long to get the Taser ready again. I’ll 'come on’ after your heart attack," she stated ruthlessly, sitting down on the icy seat. Her teeth were chattering loudly as her fingers began to feed the wires into the small black box.

Melvin immediately started scooting backwards, balls drawing up painfully when she paused to give him a furious smile of anticipation. “Wait! Okay! We’ll trade. Let me go, and we’ll split up - never see each other again!"

Samantha nodded, but made no move toward him. She wasn’t sure the weapon could be reused this way, was sure it needed a new cartridge or something, but the backward hillbilly at her feet wouldn’t know that and hopefully it would bluff him. Sam smiled eagerly. Then again, she didn’t know for sure that it wouldn’t work either. If not, if he pushed her, she had another pen.

The snow was falling in sheets now, the wind spinning small drifts in circles, and she moved faster, able to feel it getting colder as she watched the trapped man push himself backwards in the slush.

“Okay! Okay! The keys are in my front pocket. You can have ‘em. I won’t move!"

Sam nodded again, still smiling that tight, malicious grin, and Melvin began to beg, finally sounding sincere.

“I’m really sorry, lady, really.” His voice got louder when she stood up, anger burning hotly in her heart. “Please don’t, please."

 “You don’t even know my name!”

“No, come on! You’ll kill me. No! I’m sorry for what we..."

The man froze as Sam dropped to a knee beside him in the icy slush, shoving the box hard against his crotch. “It might not kill you, but you’ll wish it had.” She sneered. “Be a good dog now, Mel, and don’t even breathe.”

His eyes pleaded with her as she sent a rough hand down into his closest pocket and came up with her freedom. Enjoying the fear on his dirty face, she jumped out of range of his kicking feet and immediately unlocked the hated chain - it fall into the dirty snow.

“I should lock you to the bumper and leave you here!" She landed a vicious kick to his knee as she stepped over him, going back to the hood of the car. She stripped while he watched, letting him see the dozens of purple and yellow bruises, and the dark blood crusted to her thighs.  There was loathing in her look as she used the grimy skirt to clean up, and her face mocked him as she threw it in his direction.

She pulled on a pair of warm sweats with a taunting smile. “Who wears the pants now, you piece of shit?"

Melvin said nothing, only watched her and the Taser that stayed close by her hand. Her eyes kept track of his slow backward progress as she got what she needed from the weathered wagon.

“What’re you gonna do?" His voice was even, though he was starting to shiver.

Sam snapped on the pack and closed the suitcase before turning to look at him. “Henry always carried that knife, the one he used to cut my hair! Find it and stay away! Don’t make me kill you."

“Just 'cause you had a pass don’t mean you’re worth a shit out here in this world!” the captive man spat, hatred lining every inch of his face. “I hope it haunts you that we went right by that compound!”

Samantha walked away without responding to any of his taunts, threats, lies, or pleas, thinking she would have to watch out for him. Melvin deserved to die, that was the only way she would really feel safe, but she just couldn’t, not unless it was needed. One premeditated murder was enough. The feel of it was…heavy, as if a chain had just been clamped upon her soul – binding it to this world.

Samantha moved fast, glad when the snow became thicker and the wind blew fiercely. It muted Melvin's screams and would cover her tracks better. It also might kill her if she waited too long to take shelter, but Sam didn’t stop right away, going by house after warm, empty-looking house, to keep her enemy from seeing where she went. She longed to drive one of the vehicles she was now climbing over and around, but they had spent the first few days after the War looking for something quieter, easier on gas, and she’d been forced to tell them about EMPs and that they’d been lucky Melvin’s van - parked under a sewer overpass - had started. Anything with electrical components in a damage zone was now junk.

Samantha blinked back tears as the frigid wind stung her eyes, lungs aching from the cold in the thick air, and she sniffed before running a damp sweater sleeve across her dripping nose. Her feet felt leaden, sliding on black ice, and she curled her numb fingers tighter into the wet material as she caught her balance and pushed on.

Sam sucked in a surprised breath as another icy blast of wind hit her in the face, but didn’t stop. The more space between her and Melvin, the better. “By and by, Sammi,” she told herself, lowering her head against the wind. “One foot in front of the other.”  She would stay away from highways and frontage roads. Maybe, with any luck, the storm would get worse, and Melvin would have other things to worry about.