Traveling Merchant (Book 1): Merchant

by Seymour, William J.

  He readies his rifle. The guards do not notice him pass through opening in the gate. Their mistake has already cost them their lives.

  The river is miles in the past, yet Merchant can still hear the roar of its waters between the screams of the wind. Snow swirls in the air. Tornadoes of ice and snow scratches at their skin like little needles, forcing them to cover their face and wipe tears from watering eyes. Darkness is almost complete. The western horizon holds on for dear life to the fading gray that can push through the clouds as night sinks its teeth in deep.

  Cherry Red leads the way. A thick cloth wrapped around her mouth, hair dark and plastered against her head with dried blood and fresh sweat. She walks bent forward against the weather. Her leg no longer limps, through a small visible wobble works its way in with the occasional step as she pushes through the snow. She does not speak to him. A quick glance every mile or two is all she will spare. He does not care. She brought this on herself. Anger and frustration can fuel people to incredible heights. But fear can keep them in line.

  Up ahead, as they continue their way west, the horizon breaks into dark, featureless shadows that leave the ground and stretch for the blackness above. The snow is a muted gray, reflecting the last bits of light before they plunge into the void of a stormy night.

  Buildings.

  Or at least what used to be buildings pepper the approaching wasteland. Tall squares and rectangles lose their tops in the shadows of the night sky. The wind picks up and whistles as it wraps itself around the structures and sings of the lives and world lost to the battles of the past. Dark shadows grow ominous as they approach.

  Red does not hesitate. Shoulders rolled forward, she continues on. Merchant does not say a word. He feels no fear. She won’t lead him astray again. At least not yet.

  “We will need to stop here for the night!” Red yells back, her voice broken against the wind.

  Merchant shifts the weight of his bag on his shoulder. They are close enough now to see the empty buildings. The closest are old brick homes. Two stories with shingle roofs. All of them are in bad repair. Some are nothing more than piles of rubble that stick out of the snow like ancient tombstones. This is the outer edges of an old town. Darkness shrouds the path ahead, giving him no indication how long the empty skeletons extend, but the nearest one looks sturdy enough for them to wait out the night.

  Cherry Red stops waiting for him to respond, pulls her jacket tight around her neck, and turns to the nearest shadowed box to their right. Open windows of black watch them closely as they force their way through the swirling snow. A hole, punched through by rocket or crane, has decimated the second-floor wall, piling bricks and mortar beneath the snow, threatening to twist their ankles as they climb for the first-floor entrance.

  Wood creaks but does not give as his guide pushes her shoulder against the door, which has remained shut against all odds. She grunts, and yet it still does not move.

  “Some help here would be appreciated,” she says.

  Her boot to the door cracks into the night, but does little else to the barrier.

  Merchant steps forward. He puts his hand against the door. Cold. Ice freezes it solid to its frame. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he gently pushes her away and puts his ear against the building. There is no movement inside he can hear. The wind picks up, howling as the last bit of light dives below the horizon. Merchant grunts and jams his shoulder into the wood. Slivers of wood crack off around the corners, and ice splinters into the air. The door moves a few inches into the house but does not open completely.

  Another crash of his shoulder and the door swings wide and slaps the wall behind it.

  Stale, cold air hangs in the darkness. Animals once made this their home. He can smell the piles of shit and stains of urine beneath the brisk winter air.

  “Fucking dump,” Cherry Red mutters and kicks at the snow.

  Snake-Eyes materializes across the room beside a set of stairs that lead to the second floor. Debris from the wreckage above blocks the way, but the ghost has no problem sitting down.

  “I wouldn’t call this a five-star hotel, but I’ve slept in worse,” the ghost says. He eyes Red who settles in the corner closest to the door. “Now that she’s had time to heal up a bit. I would say I’ve slept with worse as well.”

  The asshole puckers his lips and blows a kiss at the young woman. Merchant turns and heads back to the door.

  “You can’t leave me here, we still have a bit to go,” Red says.

  She doesn’t look up at him. Her knees are pulled up to her chin with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her voice is softer and struggles to hide the tremble beneath the chattering of her teeth.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Merchant responds.

  He takes firm grip of the door and pushes it shut. The wind fights him, but the barrier seals and holds. For assurance, he slides down against it and places his bag off to his side.

  “I’m sorry, you know,” Cherry whispers.

  The words float on the wind like dry leaves. She does not look at him, though he doubts she could see him. The room is lightless, only the sound of their breathing and the cursing of the wind echoing beneath the empty walls. Snake-Eye’s glow gives the room a soft, ethereal look. Only Merchant can see it. He stares at where she sits. She seems frail for a woman who has survived as long as she has.

  “Your brother would have died quickly,” Merchant says.

  Red stirs and sniffs. Silence hangs between them for long cold moments.

  “I don’t have a brother,” she admits.

  Judgement hangs between them like the executioner’s blade. Merchant doesn’t say anything. He can feel the darkness begin to strangle her.

  “Look, I was promised, if I brought people down there on a regular basis, I would be taken care of. He said he could cure me.”

  She sobs twice, and then growls in anger.

  “You are full of promises, aren’t you?” Merchant asks.

  Snake-Eyes walks his way down the stairs. The broken pieces of wall and brick do not impede his travels.

  “Told you that bitch was a lying cunt. You should smack her around a little. Show her that bag of yours isn’t the only thing that can hurt her,” the ghost recommends. “I would.”

  “Fuck off,” she says. “You don’t know how it is knowing this shit is inside your body. Growing. Feeding. Watching your skin turn, feeling it inch its way up and losing control of your own fingers. I’d do anything to stop this. He promised me!”

  “That why you were with Hectar and his group? Leading them one by one to be fed to those monsters down there?”

  Cherry Red shuffles so she isn’t facing him. She doesn’t want to be judged in the darkness. Not by him or anyone.

  “Man was a fucking moron anyway. He’d be dead in weeks if I didn’t set him up the deal with the man-god.”

  “Ooh, she works both sides of the fence, does she? God, I love women like that,” Snake-Eyes says as he sits beside her.

  He runs an index finger through her hair, and she doesn’t notice.

  “Who is this other one you made a deal with, the one who can heal your infection?” Merchant asks.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she answers with frustration lacing her words. “Whatever deal I had with him is lost because of you and that fucking whore of yours. He’ll never help me now. Not after you killed so many of his pets.”

  “He keeps them as pets?”

  “Enough with this shit. You want to know more about where we are going or not?”

  Merchant doesn’t answer. He sits and waits quietly. Cherry Red grumbles a few words under her breath. They both sit and listen to the wind pound against the door at his back. Pieces of stone and rock settle with the storm on the level above their heads. He doesn’t know if he should dig deeper or follow the trail where she would rather go.

  “Go ahead. Tell me what you can. Do not think you can trick me again,” Merchant warns. He reaches over and shifts the bag that sits by his
side. “I will find you if I have to.”

  “I got it, asshole. I hope she’s fucking worth it. You don’t have any idea what you are walking into.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Merchant feels the edges of the cards scratch over the pads of his fingers. Wherever she is, Hell or worse, he needs to find her. He cannot stop until he does.

  Seventeen

  Today

  Morning has arrived. Bright, warm light shines its way through the square dusty windows near the rafters, and tiny strings of dust filter lazily through the air. Cutting through the golden rays, they dance in and out of the beams like leaves caught in the wind. The sound of a heart monitor beeps in the background.

  Boop.

  Boop.

  Boop.

  Elizabeth takes a deep breath. The sterilizing stench of a clean room burns her nose. She lets her body relax. This is a place for the sick and infirm. Something she refuses to let herself agree to become.

  Most of the pain that racks her body is gone. Stitches and cuts are still covered in bandages, but if she tries, she can rotate her shoulder with only the slightest of pinching. Warmth wraps her body tight as she looks up again at the windows high upon the walls. Frost and tiny cracks of ice climb their way up the glass, but she can see the blue sky outside.

  The storms have passed. The world is free. If only she could sprout a pair of wings, lift herself from this prison and fly carelessly into the sky. She takes a deep breath and ignores the burning reminder in her nose that she is still tied to this earth.

  Clouds pass by, soft and as thin as cotton as they filter through her fingers. Freedom. It feels so good. It feels as it is meant to be. For a moment, she lets the feeling of contentment filter through her body. Enjoying its warm embrace upon her skin.

  “You have such a beautiful smile,” Alexis says.

  Her words are no more than a whisper but enough to shock Elizabeth back to reality. Blankets fly into the air, and the heart monitor beats like a pounding garage band drum.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “What the fuck!” Elizabeth shouts.

  She scurries her way to the top of the hospital bed. Looking around, she sees that Alexis is alone. There is no one in sight.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” Alexis adds, her face looking to her feet.

  The young woman’s hands are held together before her at her hips, and her hair falls about her downturned face. The strands of bright brown are darker now, thinner, and the skin of her scalp is red as if she has been scratching at something that just won’t go away.

  “Damnit, Alexis. There is nothing to be sorry about. You scared the shit out of me, that’s all,” Elizabeth reassures her. She reaches an arm out and beckons the girl forward. “Let me take a look at what those bastards have done to you.”

  Alexis steps closer but doesn’t say a word. It has been over a week since she has seen the young woman. Bruises mark her arms around the elbows, and her skin is as pale as snow where it isn’t a rainbow of colors from healing wounds and irritated scratches.

  “Our father takes care of me, Elizabeth. I am fine, and I have been a good servant for our lord’s family,” the young girl adds with no conviction. “I am here to see how you are doing. You haven’t ventured out of this ward since the last judging, and I was beginning to worry.”

  Elizabeth lays her head back and sighs.

  “You worry about me? Fuck. I’m here, high as a kite in drug-induced lala land, but you are worried about me? We need to get you out of this shit hole before one of those losers decides you aren’t worth his time. Once I’m strong enough, it’s the road for both of us.”

  Alexis pulls away from the bed but keeps her fingers laced between Elizabeth’s firm grip.

  “Leave the home our father has built?” Alexis looks around the empty recovery room as if there is someone listening. “Where would we go? Why would we want to leave?”

  Elizabeth squeezes the young woman’s hands tight. There are tears around red lids swallowed by black circles, and it breaks her heart. To be honest with herself, she has been thinking about this very moment for the last week. The vision of Alexis being led away to help soothe those three men has put such a fire in her belly that she can’t stand the taste of the idea of leaving the poor woman here to rot with the rest.

  “It doesn’t matter where we go, Alexis. Any place is better than here,” Elizabeth says. She gently pats her hand down on the thin bones that make up the girl’s hands, amazed at how cold they are between her fingers. “Look what they are doing to you. I have been surviving on the streets and open fields by myself for years. With you, we could make a team of it. Two heads are better than one.”

  Alexis’ head shakes left and right. Her lips moving but words are not coming out as her eyes race from corner to corner.

  “A time will come that I leave this place, Alexis. I want you with me. Ha, I’d never thought I’d say that, but maybe this world would be a better place if it wasn’t so empty.”

  “I…” Alexis stammers.

  Doors slam shut down the hall toward the stairs that lead to the exit into the village, and the vibration is enough to feel it through the metal frame that holds Elizabeth’s bed. Flat hair sways as Alexis’ gaze drops down to her feet, and she steps away, this time, removing her hold on Elizabeth’s hands.

  “I came up here for two reasons. First, I was to check on you, Elizabeth. To see that you were feeling better.”

  “And the second?” Elizabeth asks.

  “To let you know it is time for you to venture out again. Our father has said that plenty of time has passed for your recovery. I am to lead you around and begin the process of seeing how you will fit in with our family.”

  “See how I fit? You mean, put me to work?”

  “Everyone is expected to do their part, Elizabeth. The community is only as strong as its weakest part, and we all have our own responsibilities,” Alexis says.

  Her hands cup the small part of her abdomen below her bellybutton.

  “No freeloaders, I guess. And if I don’t find a place where I fit in?”

  Alexis eyes the door and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Elizabeth can see her bite down her lower lip.

  “There is a part for everyone here. If you and I cannot find a suitable situation for you, our father will be able to with his unmatched wisdom.”

  Elizabeth groans and throws her hands up over her head. The sunlight burning its way into the room is no longer warm and welcoming. Cutting through the air like knives, she can feel her eyes water, and she is forced to squint to see through the shadows of black and red growing from the corners of the room.

  “Unmatched wisdom, my ass. Go be one of his slaves or get myself raped every night by infected frat boys. Nice fucking compromise.”

  Alexis’ face melts, and her eyes go wide.

  “I never said…”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’ve said enough,” Elizabeth cuts her off. “Help me out of this bed and let’s go see what little Suzy homemaker you can make of me, because I can promise you this, if one of those pecker heads tries to lay a hand on me, they’ll be lucky if your Chosen is the one who finds them first. You ever seen a man bleed to death from his cock?”

  Alexis’ face is deathly white, and she recoils back into the nearest bed.

  “Exactly. Let us hope you don’t. Now, how about we don’t waste any more time?”

  The young girl nods and straightens her shoulders. With gentle hands, she begins removing some of the wires from the heart monitor and other equipment that does nothing more than hold Elizabeth down. Taking one more look at the windows that lead to her future, Elizabeth can’t help but let the amber of anger in her belly fire once again.

  The cold is bitter, and Elizabeth’s attitude is even harsher. What warmth she felt from the sun and the blankets while wrapped in the folds of cotton and thread is lost as the harsh touch of old man winter sets his grubby paws over her arms and up her legs. Her toes wi
ggle in boots that are too big, and the skin of her calves chaff against the laces that struggle to keep the heavy soles from falling off her feet.

  Muscles tense and injuries tighten as the wind swims by, cutting through the thick material of the coat that wraps her body tight. Surprisingly, Alexis has found something more suitable for the weather for her to wear, and after a spattering of grumbles and curses, the girl successfully walks her out the door.

  Blinding light reflects off snow and white building walls across the village. Standing atop the stairs that lead into the medical ward, she takes in the breadth of just how big this community has become over the years. Black smoke from cookfires and work buildings stretches down Main Street for as far as she can see, and the dark marks of structures housing everyone stretches layers deep as small roads spring up like trails through a forest.

  This is becoming a city of its own.

  A gust of wind carrying the smell of shit and rotting food, mixed with the aroma of burning wood, wrinkles her nose. A cough racks her body, and Alexis wraps a thin arm around her to keep her upright.

  Yep, just like the fucking cities.

  “Stay strong, Elizabeth. We’ll take it slow, but I know a few families that could use some help around their little shops. They don’t need someone with much skill, just a pair of hands to help out. We could start there unless you think there is something else you could do,” Alexis says as she leads them down the steps one foot at a time.

  “Wouldn’t happen to need someone to fill a gap in the perimeter guard, would you?”

  “How could you think of doing something like that?” Alexis asks.

  There is genuine concern in the girl’s voice. Elizabeth shakes her head with a small smile and looks away.

  “You said if there was something else I could do, and that is it. I’m pretty good with a gun. I could help keep the village safe.”