by K. A Knight
Not today, motherfuckers.
Throwing myself over the ravine, I land in a roll and come up with a katana in each hand, and wade into the pile, slashing and grabbing, blood splashing me, but I still keep going until there is a gap.
“Run!” I scream, and we both break away just as he tosses something that looks like a stick at the chasing eaters.
I race towards the tower up ahead, shining like a beacon in the night, my breath sawing out of my chest, my legs aching just as the ground beneath us rolls and an explosion sounds behind us, followed by another two.
“Keep going!” he yells, as he reaches my side.
The gate is up ahead, twenty meters.
Ten.
Five.
I can feel them behind me, snapping, their claws outstretched. Clay puts on a burst of speed and yanks the gate open, holding out his hand to me as I drop my head and give it all I have, my arms pumping.
I reach for him, my fingers touching his as I feel claws swipe across my back. Crying out, I let him yank me through. I fall to the ground on top of him, but he rolls and he’s up in an instant, slamming the gate shut and hitting a giant red button on the left.
A siren cuts through the air just before the eaters smash into the fence…only to fry. I get to my feet, wincing at the pain in my back. I can feel blood dripping from the wound, but I ignore it as I sheathe my sword and watch the eaters stick to the fence, frying, as inhuman screeches leave their mouths. They fall to the ground eventually, the smell of burnt hair and skin making me gag.
The ones behind them get smart and don’t come close, just pace back and forth, snapping at each other as they watch us. “Eat that, you motherfuckers!” I whoop and turn to Clay. “Well, Mountain Man, we made it.”
He spins to look at me. “Come on, let’s get inside and look at your wounds,” he rumbles.
I agree. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, exhaustion is setting in, followed by a blinding agony. He must see it on my face, because he covers the space between us in two steps and scoops me up, holding me to his huge chest as he heads towards the building set under the tower.
What a strange day.
Twenty-Two
Two Lost Souls
He carries me into the building, which is unlocked and dark, and places me on something solid. I turn on my side, wincing as it pulls at my back. The light flickers on overhead and I get a good look at the inside. It resembles a radio center, with controls over on one side and sofas and a TV in the corner. There are stairs up and down in the middle, and I’m lying on a table.
“On your stomach, we need to wash out the wounds,” he orders, so I do as I am told, turning over with a whine and propping my chin on my arm as I stare at him. He moves around the room, flicking switches before returning to me. He checks out my back without touching it and then disappears upstairs before coming back with a wet towel. “This will sting.”
“There are some med kits in my bag,” I tell him, and he nods and slaps the towel onto my wounds, making me yowl. It’s echoed outside by the eaters, so I bite down on my arm to stifle the next cry as, with gentle strokes, he silently cleans out the lesions.
The cold disappears and I slump into the table, but he’s back in a minute, and with no warning he sprays something that stings. Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in breaths as he stops and then spreads something warm and liquid feeling across the cuts.
“Okay, I’m going to wrap it, sit up,” he commands, so I do, my head swimming from the pain. He holds me until I’m steady and then looks at me. “Shirt off,” he demands.
I hesitate for a moment, having a flashback of my attack, but this man has only helped me, so I pull it off and drop it into my lap. He averts his gaze kindly and grabs a bandage, wrapping it around my torso before ripping it and tying it off. It’s tight, but my back actually feels better, less pained at least. He snatches my shirt and helps me back into it as I rest on my side and watch him.
He removes his mask and rubs at his mouth as he looks around. “We wait here for a few hours, can’t drive until sunlight, rest for an hour. I will load the stash into the car,” he mumbles and turns away, but I grab his hand on his way past, ignoring the harsh, rough quality of it.
“Thank you, Mountain Man,” I say with a smile.
His mismatched eyes land on me and seem to soften for a moment before he steps back and disappears, heading downstairs. I take his advice and close my eyes, giving my back time to heal—a little, at least. I should feel guilty he is doing the heavy lifting, but he offered, so I can’t really complain. Plus, I wouldn’t have made it this far without him, I know for sure I would have died out there.
The mountain man saved my life…why?
I rest my eyes for a moment, but with the howling and cries of the eaters outside, I find it hard to rest. So I throw myself off the table top, stumble to my bag, and take some pain pills before sitting back on the table for a moment and waiting for the meds to kick in.
I can hear banging below, where he’s moving the stash I was sent to get, so even though my back is still hurting, I get to my feet and head downstairs, using the railing to support me since my legs are still a little weak.
Holy momma, I actually stumble down the last two stairs at the sight before me. It’s not the weapons and explosives laid out throughout the room like an armoury…it’s the man currently heaving them across the space, bare chested, to the truck—well, if you can call it that—in the corner.
Yes, I’ve seen his naked chest before, but right now he has no mask on, his hair is tied on top of his head to keep it out of his face, and his eyes are focused in concentration. His muscles bulge with the heavy lifting, and when he bends over, those trousers he is wearing leave nothing to the imagination.
Now, I’ve never been an ass girl myself, I can appreciate a good round handful, but this man…his ass is as tight and round as two peaches pushed together. My mouth literally goes dry as he stands back up and effortlessly lifts two huge boxes, one in each hand like they weigh nothing.
He heads over to the truck—again, if you can call it that. After all, it has no roof or doors, it’s just a skeletal frame and a huge open back, which he is piling high. It does have wheels though, so I guess that’s a blessing. When he turns around, he lifts his impressive arms to wipe at his face and spots me. Clay tilts his head in question. I guess we are back to the not talking thing again, so in answer I step down and start to help him carry things.
He plucks the box I am carrying out of my arms and tosses it into the truck before pointing at some smaller ones on a table with narrowed eyes, obviously not wanting me to overdo it or bend over to get the bigger ones on the floor.
I nod in understanding and start to move those as he goes back to calmly heaving missiles and explosives. I peer into one of my boxes and spot wires and what looks like triggers. When the truck is as full as it is going to get, I step back and wipe off my face, sweat dripping down it. I can feel it trickling into my wounds on my back, but I don’t think it will hurt much…right? God, Evvie is going to have a shit fit when he sees my back…I wonder if I can get him to kiss it better? Or Archel, or Jago…hell, all three would be good.
I’m in a world of my own, imagining all the dirty ways my men could make it better, when Clay scoops me up again, making me yelp. He doesn’t look down at me as he takes the stairs two at a time and places me carefully, more carefully than the explosives, onto the table and then points in my face with narrowed eyes.
Yeah, I get the drift, stay here, be good.
He starts to walk away backwards, his eyes still locked on me, and I can’t help but smile as I swing my legs back and forth, watching him. I don’t think the big mountain man knows how to deal with me. He comes back a few minutes later and rounds the table, peeking under the bandages with a grunt before stopping in front of me.
“Why don’t you sit?” I suggest, and he looks at the chair and nods, dragging it over and sitting before me, his hands loose betwe
en his thighs, eyes focused on me.
“Why don’t you talk much?” I inquire. We are going to be stuck here until sunrise, so I might as well do what I do best—talk.
“Does it bother you?” he counters, his voice making me jerk, it’s that sudden.
“No, I talk enough for four people, I’m just curious why. Most people love the sound of their own voice and have a million thoughts and questions in their brain to get out,” I explain helpfully.
“You do talk a lot.” He grins, it’s a quick flash, and then it’s gone. “It’s simple, when you don’t talk, you are listening. You learn more, see more, things others might miss. It makes me a better warrior.”
My eyes widen. Okay, wasn’t expecting that. “Wow, no other reason?”
He laughs then, a short sharp sound. “You are smart, I don’t like people. Most are stupid and when you don’t talk, they soon grow bored with you and then I don’t have to kill them.”
Laughter tumbles out of me. “You don’t talk—” I gasp for breath, ignoring the pain the laughter causes. “Because if you do, people talk back, which you find stupid, so you would have to kill them?”
“Pretty much.” He nods, his lips twitching as he watches me.
I laugh harder, but then gasp in pain, stilling. He jerks, his hands reaching out to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine, I’ve survived worse,” I reply weakly, and then sigh. Remind me not to laugh for a while.
“How so?” he asks, watching me closely. He’s like Jago in that aspect when he watches you, observing you intently, noting every little nuance of your person. Every twitch, facial expression, storing it away. Oh, I have no doubt he has already analysed a million ways to kill me in a second, but instead he is talking to me…even though he doesn’t normally talk to many people. I feel kinda special.
“That is not something even I want to talk about,” I whisper, looking away. He can undoubtedly see the horror and pain in my eyes that simply thinking about it causes.
“Our warriors go through a test when they finish their training. It can be at different ages depending on their experience and skill. For most, it is around their sixteenth cycle, mine was when I was ten.” I look at him then, that’s the most I’ve heard him say, but he surprises me more by carrying on.
“We live with our families until we are proclaimed. My mother had died in childbirth, but my father raised me. One day he went out, out into the Wastes on the orders of our pascha. Him and a group of our warriors were sent to see what the world has become. He didn’t come back.” He doesn’t lower his eyes or look away, he lets me see the memories, the pain in those eyes. No hiding for him, because in his vulnerability, he finds strength. “I begged the pascha to go after him, and he told me if they found their way home, they would, if not, it was an honourable death. But he was my father, my only family. So I snuck away, out of the mountains, and into the world to search for him.”
“Did you find him?” I query softly, entranced by his story.
“Yes, but not alive. They had been attacked by eaters. There were three still there, and I killed them with my father’s sword and brought back their heads as proof. I presented them to our pascha, and he rewarded me by proclaiming me. I became a warrior, one of the youngest. I avenged my father, and in turn I found a strength in me I didn’t know I had.”
I blink at him, unsure what to say for once.
“What I am saying, little warrior, is tests come in all shapes and sizes and it’s not getting knocked down that is the hardest, but getting back up. That is the true mark of a warrior, a fighter.”
He stands before I can reply and strolls away, out the door. I hear the noise of the eaters increase for a moment before the door shuts, and then a few minutes later he comes back. “Two hours until sunrise,” he murmurs, then sits back down.
My eyes are locked on him though. “You are right.” I nod. He exposed his pain, so I sigh and sit up taller. “I was not born into The Forgotten, but a place underground far from it, similar to your mountain. It was all we knew, we didn’t know the world out here, but I wanted to. So I trained, I fought to become a warrior, to become the best I could. The man with me? The big guy? He trained me, and we started out into the world. We protected our people, but not everyone wanted a woman as a warrior,” I explain snidely. “The people I trusted, the leaders, they betrayed me. They sent me out there to die, only I didn’t, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been kinder than what they did to me.”
I look at him then with cold, angry eyes. “I got back up, I didn’t want to, I wanted to die from my wounds some nights, but I couldn’t. Not with them still out there, so I got back up. I fought every day, sometimes just to get out of bed, to get dressed. The tasks that everyone took for granted, I struggled with. But I kept fighting, and along the way, I found people to fight with me. I found a new home, a new people, and it gave me a purpose and reason to keep going. So I did,” I tell him, then lick my lips. “Then, I met Worth. You should see her. A true queen, a warrior like no other, covered in the scars of people who tried to kill her, to keep her down, yet she wears them with honour. Men fall to their knees in front of her, and they would follow her to hell itself, but not just because of who she is but what she stands for. A better world, a unity, all fighting together to protect our home. That’s why I’m here, for her, for me, for everyone like us who was hurt. I got my revenge and it did nothing, but this? This fight will. I’ve finally found what I was searching for, and I don’t plan on letting it go.” Staring into those mismatched eyes, I continue, “I understand you, Mountain Man, more than you can imagine. Despite the world that divides us, we aren’t different. We are both just trying to protect those we care for, a home, and I guess that makes us allies.”
“I guess it does, little warrior.” He grins.
“Why do you call me that? It’s not my fault I’m a normal, human size and you are a giant.” I laugh, breaking the tension.
He winks at me then, actually fucking winks, holy vagina. “Because of the men who follow you and the way you stood up to the pascha, people only follow leaders. Warriors. You are a tiny, pocket-sized warrior.” He shrugs.
Shaking my head, I grin at him again. “Knew you liked me, you find me enchanting and lovable.”
“More like annoying and irritating,” he scoffs.
I nod seriously. “I’ll take it.”
“This war, do you think you can win it?” he questions randomly, and I lift my head before turning onto my side and laying it on my arm. I had laid down to ease my back, and he found a blanket from somewhere and covered me with it. For such a big warrior, he sure is a softie.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I have to, otherwise what am I fighting for?”
He nods and turns quiet again, so I close my eyes and let him become lost in his own thoughts…for a moment. “Your pascha, would you follow him anywhere?”
“Not everywhere. Sometimes you have to have blind trust in your leaders. Follow them into the gates of hell itself, even if they are wrong, but I wouldn’t for him. I haven’t found a person I would do that for, not yet,” he whispers.
I go silent again and close my eyes. I can feel him staring, but it feels kind of comforting, so I relax into the table and before I know it, I’ve nodded off. The clanging of the gate wakes me, and I jerk up with a whine at my stiff and aching back.
He is ready to go, just crouching next to the table, watching me.
“It’s time,” he instructs, and gets to his feet.
Twenty-Three
Tradition
He helps strap on my weapons, his touch gentle but sure, and then we head downstairs to the truck. “Does this thing even run? It looks like you took two cars and they fucked and made this monstrosity.”
“It runs,” he offers, and gets into the driver’s seat.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, and climb into the passenger seat. At least they are leather. He flicks on the ignition and revs the engine a few times, and I look around.
“Wait, how do we—fuck!”
He races forward, heading straight at a wall, but at the last moment…it moves. It goes up and we fly from the building. I have to grab on to the skeletal door as we go airborne, and we land on the dirt just before the gate. I look back to see the wall closing up again as we race to the exit, which opens as we approach. The eaters slip through, but when they spot us, they give chase as we kick up dirt, heading to the ravine.
One leaps from the cliff face and lands on the hood, making me yelp as I try to get my crossbow up, but it gets caught between the stick and the seat. “Fuck, flying dicks, fuck!”
Reaching through the empty door, it wraps its hands around my neck and yanks me forward. I react and punch out, splitting my knuckles on its teeth, but it flips backwards from the car.
“Take that, you cocksucker!” I yell as I sit back, just in time for the car to come to a skidding stop.
“What are you doing?” I yell, looking around, but he calmly turns off the truck and gets out. I slip into the driver’s seat and stick my head out of the door to see him approaching the eater that grabbed me. My mouth drops open when he stabs it in the face and chops off his head. It dangles from his fist as he unhurriedly walks back, despite the thundering steps of the approaching eaters, and he holds it up to me.
“For you,” he offers.
“Fuck, okay, get in!” I scream, noticing the incoming horde.
He leaps into the passenger seat and proudly displays the head on the dash like an ornament. Fuck, my life is weird, I think as I hammer my foot onto the pedal. The car fishtails, but I grip the wheel and straighten us out, making sure to build up speed as we approach the ravine.
“Hold on to your big ass balls!” I yell, just as we hit the lip and fly over the gap, landing hard on the other side.
