Traveling Merchant (Book 1): Merchant

by Seymour, William J.

Light brown eyes pass over Merchant and quickly turn away. They stop at the green Army bag that sits against the bars. Merchant can smell his fear. Sweet and strong, it mixes with the smell of body odor that the child has not had the opportunity to wash away.

  “Little bastard is going to come and get it,” Snake-Eyes says.

  The ghost sits down next to Merchant. Pulling one knee up, he rests his chin and taps his fingers on his shin.

  “They really can’t resist, can they?”

  Inching forward, the child is no more than a half-dozen feet away from the prize.

  Merchant does not move, but the ghost whistles a funeral tune that is picked up by the souls of a thousand-restless dead.

  The little thief turns to see if anyone is watching. All onlookers have vanished to their squabbled homes or other corners hidden within the fenced walls. A shaking hand reaches out and wraps around the lone strap.

  Grrr.

  Merchant growls and the boy yips. Shock overcomes balance, and the little vermin falls onto his ass and begins to scoot away. Merchant stands as much as the cage will allow him to.

  “Ha, look at the little thief now! You damn near killed him with your voice!” Snake-Eyes laughs and rolls on the ground. “Fuck, man, soon you’ll only need to look at them to make them die. Baby killer!”

  Neck bent forward, and shoulders rolled until they are pinched, Merchant moves to the bars that separate him from his assailant. The boy’s eyes are as wide as saucers and the whites brighter than the snow.

  “Looking to take what isn’t yours, child?” Merchant asks.

  Nothing escapes the boy’s rapidly flapping lips as heels kick the snow, and he rolls onto his knees. The other children are screaming and running, leaving their friend behind. Mud and snow lifts into the air, and smoke billows out with the burning of their shoes.

  “Maybe you should be some kind of politician there, killer,” Snake-Eyes adds. He places a hand on Merchant’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen someone make a baby cry like that in ages.”

  Merchant shrugs the ghost away and finds his seat in the back of the cage again. A few men wander within sight and look between the screaming boys and the cage that holds him tight.

  He doesn’t say a word. There is no need to. All of them turn back the way they had come and leave him where he sits. Another cold chill races across the village.

  “Not trying to make any friends, are you?” a woman’s voice asks from behind the cage.

  Turning, Merchant looks but sees only the boxes they have placed against the back of the bars.

  “You are definitely a sight I did not think I’d see again,” the woman says. “I took you for dead, and looking at you now, I’d guess you were pretty close to being there not too long ago.”

  “Death has a firmer grip on me than the blood of a few infected,” Merchant answers. “Why don’t you come out from behind there.”

  Snow shifts and a small grunt follows as the woman turns around the corner of the boxes. She moves with a limp, her right leg shaking with weakness, and her arms and neck are bandaged up, but he recognizes her in an instant.

  “Don’t recognize me, do you?” she asks.

  “Well, well. If redhead out there isn’t good enough for you to fuck, then you better take advantage of this one,” Snake-Eyes says while smoothing out the hair on his head. “She may be a bit banged up, but at least you know she likes it rough. I bet the bitch is kinky as hell.”

  Merchant moves closer to the bars that hold him for now.

  “You were the one out on Interstate 80. Those men took you.”

  “Yeah, and I thought they cracked that thick skull of yours right in half.”

  “Takes more than a tree branch to stop me.”

  The woman cracks a smile and leans against the crates. Her eyes scan for any new gawkers, and a tired look spreads across her face.

  “Look, I can’t remember if I got your name back there before we were so rudely separated.”

  “People call me, Merchant.”

  “Well, Merchant, my name is Elizabeth, and I wanted to say thank you for what you did back there at the interstate. You fought like a fucking demon and, for a moment, I thought we were going to get out of that spot. Guess both our lucks have run out now,” Elizabeth says, and then sighs.

  She slides down until she is sitting against the corner of the cage and the crates.

  “Luck has little to do with what happens in this world anymore, Elizabeth,” Merchant says. He slides until he is seated against the same corner as she is. He can see her crinkle her nose at the smell that radiates off his body. “You still looking for the freedom you wanted back before they took you? A life on your own and away from everyone, or have you found yourself a new family here with them?”

  Merchant waves his hand in a large sweeping motion toward the village that huddles together around them for warmth and false protection. The first darkening of the sky is taking hold in the east, and several street torches burn to ward off the darkness.

  “Fuck them all. I told you once the only way to live was by yourself. You still thinking of committing suicide and going west?”

  Merchant nods.

  “Then I guess neither one of us is in luck. I’m stuck here to be some infected fuck’s bang toy, and if you are lucky, they’ll let you man the gate or something.”

  “If I’m not lucky?”

  Elizabeth turns her head towards him, and he sees the fear buried deep beneath the look in her eyes. Dark circles and broken veins bleeding into the whites do a poor job of hiding what she has been through.

  “They’ll feed you to the infected,” she answers before throwing a handful of snow as far as the restricted rotation of her arm will allow.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that has happened,” Merchant says.

  Snake-Eyes chuckles.

  She looks at him but does not ask.

  “Look, I wanted to say thanks for trying back there, but we are both doomed. Can’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

  Pulling herself up on the bars, Elizabeth gets back to her feet and wipes the snow off her pants.

  “Wait, Elizabeth,” Merchant says. She hesitates and does not turn away. “Get me out of this cage. I’ll take you out of here. There is someone waiting for me to return, and they’ll help us both get as far away from here as we want.”

  “And why would you want to do that?”

  Elizabeth takes another nervous look around. Merchant’s voice is hardly over a whisper, but she moves closer to the bars anyway.

  “We’ll call it a debt that needs to be paid,” Merchant answers. “Get me out of this cage, Elizabeth. Do that, and I’ll make sure both of us get what we want before I am done.”

  She lets her eyes look deep into his. He can feel her mind searching, wanting to trust his words. He does not move. Still as a stone, he waits for her to answer.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she says and quickly turns around the crates and is gone.

  Merchant smiles.

  She is here. He has found her. Now, all he has to do is set her free.

  Nineteen

  Today

  The streets buzz with whispers and people. A bonfire burns in the center of the village, and people group together by the dozens like school children telling gossip as fast as their lips will move.

  Warm, smoky air dances with the cold night, and Elizabeth does everything she can to avoid notice. The way to the medical ward is well known to her, and looking down the path, it is as deserted as it ever is.

  The braziers that sit at the bottom of the long concrete steps of the hospital burn bright as the flames reach high into the air. Light shines brightly from the third floor, waiting for her return, but she cannot go back until she has done all that she can.

  Alexis would be here to help her, if she could be. Giving her the words she needs to convince the lunatic who thinks himself a god that this man, Merchant, is someone they can trust, but she is nowhere to be found. Probably
off aiding those infected pukes as she has been instructed to do.

  Elizabeth spits on the ground as her mouth fills with bile at the thought. Her hands tremble while the anger rolls through her veins like a raging river. No matter what that girl thinks, she is not going to stay here in this hellhole. It doesn’t matter if Elizabeth has to drag her out kicking and screaming, she is getting away from these monsters.

  The smell of burning pitch is strong and warm as she hobbles toward the first steps of the hospital. No one has moved within sight since she turned away from Main Street and left the clucking chickens behind.

  “It is not safe to be walking at night alone,” a voice as deep as thunder says.

  Elizabeth’s heart jumps, and she spins around. Boots slipping on the snow and ice, she tumbles, and her ass cracks against the steps.

  “Ow, fuck!” she says. “Who the fuck said that? Show yourself.”

  A shadow the size of the abominable snowman disengages itself from the darkness. Elizabeth’s throat goes dry, and she tries to push herself up another two steps.

  “You are in no shape to be wandering the streets by yourself. Especially now that we have such strange creatures in our midst from the wilds of this ruined world,” the Chosen says.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Eyes searching for help, Elizabeth sees no one but the monster.

  “I do not like the look of that man who found our home. He brings nothing but danger to us. People should avoid him until our Father decides what is to be done about him.”

  “Look, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you or any other asshole taking care of me. Besides, that creature you have caged up isn’t as bad as he seems.”

  The Chosen takes a step closer. His face is flat and emotionless, but his eyes are searching. Soft, and for a moment, she can imagine those orbs on the face of a man who cares. A monster who can crush the life out of a man with his fingers and he may, for the first time, show signs of emotions other than anger. Being so large, he looks down at her though she is now seated on the fourth step of the stairs.

  “He smells of death and worse. That is bad enough. Things like him don’t just wander their way until they find us.”

  Defiance builds within Elizabeth’s chest.

  “But what about your father’s lost sheep? Aren’t the innocent and meek supposed to find their way to him? Stumble their way home?”

  The Chosen hesitates.

  “The innocent don’t smell of guts and emptied bowels.”

  Elizabeth pushes herself back to her feet.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe he just hasn’t had a bath in a long time.”

  The monster’s eyebrow raises as he continues to look at her.

  “A very long time. I get it, the man smells and looks horrible, but is that really a reason to just leave him rotting in that cage?”

  “He’ll be released once he tells us why he is really here,” the Chosen says.

  “Listen to me closely, shit for brains,” Elizabeth says. Anger has completely drowned the fear. “The man is just moving west. I met him before I was taken here. He has something he has to do out west, and no matter how crazy that fucking idea is, it does not make him a bad person.

  “So, he is here to see you?” the Chosen asks.

  Turning his head, the large beast looks back in the direction of the judging circle.

  “Why would you think that?”

  Shoulders roll and bones crack. A head made of pure stone turns back to her.

  “You just said so yourself.”

  “I never said anything like that, you fucking moron. I told you, I’ve met him before and told him back then I thought he was as crazy as shit. Now, he’s still crazy as fuck, but that doesn’t make him dangerous, just stupid. Let him out and I’ll bet he’ll be gone by the morning. A good night’s rest and some food will help him on his way.”

  “You sound certain for someone who has met this man once.”

  Elizabeth swallows hard when her mind catches up and she realizes she has already gone too far down the rabbit hole.

  “I met him. He tried to help me out of a jam and failed. Gave me the last bit of his food when he didn’t have to. Crazy bastard is just trying to be left alone.”

  She is standing on the fifth step when he moves up one and towers over her.

  “Releasing him is not my decision. Our father is the only one who can decide what happens to this man of yours,” the Chosen says.

  “He is not a man of mine, you bastard. But if you cannot help me, talking with you is a waste of my time. Where is the Father so I can tell him how much of a disappointing bastard you have become?”

  The Chosen takes a step back. His eyes narrow, and the meat grinders he calls hands ball up. Elizabeth’s heart is racing faster than it has ever before.

  “He already waits for you. All you have to do is return to where he has patiently done so much for you without question or request.”

  Lifting a meaty paw larger than her face, he points to the hospital behind her as if she has forgotten.

  “Thanks for nothing, prick. I think I can show myself the way,” Elizabeth says.

  Turning, she bites back the pain of her leg and ass and moves as fast as she can up the stairs. Putting as much distance between her and this beast will never be enough.

  The monster doesn’t follow her. No one does. Her steps echo in the empty stairwell and return to her like the hollow thuds of broken bodies and ended dreams.

  Sweat clams up the skin of her hands, and her heart pounds. Pain throbs through her shoulders, and she does all she can to hold onto the yellow railing that leads up the stairs to the third level.

  To the room where he waits for her to return. She can already see the smile on his face.

  Fucking prick.

  Elizabeth takes a deep breath, and it stinks of cleaner and old carpet. The wind whips its way around the building and screeches like a whistle blown by a young child with endless abandon.

  He is only a man. A fucked-up individual with an even more fucked-up impression of himself.

  Looking up the last remaining stairs, she has one more level to go.

  Five steps.

  They are a lot longer than they used to be. She doesn’t know if she can even lift her legs high enough to climb them. Merchant’s words return to her.

  “Get me out of this cage. I’ll take you out of here.”

  Can he actually do it?

  Elizabeth looks back down the passage and knows that the monster waits for her out there. There is no way they are getting out of here without a miracle or an army. Alive or dead, they are both stuck.

  She leans against the wall, resting the strain that has tightened in her leg.

  If only she didn’t have to do this alone.

  A small chuckle escapes her lips. Here she is again, worried about being alone.

  Fuck that and fuck this place.

  She can trust no one but herself. If this Merchant says he can get her out of here, then she’ll go along only as far as she needs to. Then the loser can find his way to the west and his death.

  A woman’s moan of passion breaks the silence of the empty stairwell.

  Elizabeth’s knees go weak, and she slides down against the wall. She looks up to the door that will lead back to her room.

  Silence.

  Maybe it was a mistake, a trick of the ear. There is no one in this building besides her and that crazy asshole she now has to convince to let Merchant out of his cage.

  Pulling on the railing, Elizabeth makes it back to her feet.

  “Uhhhhhhh,” the woman’s voice cracks and is drawn out for moments of bliss. The sound is pure torture to Elizabeth’s ears.

  Anger and dread swarm through Elizabeth’s body. Breathing heavy, she forces herself up the stairs as fast as her feet can go. The pain of everything that has torn her apart is returning faster than it should.

  Muscles feel like they are ripping. Sweat drips d
own her arms and chest, burning the stitches so bad she knows she is bleeding all over again.

  “Please, mooooooore,” the woman calls again.

  Her voice is young, timid, and even in the thrall of ecstasy, still shy.

  Elizabeth shoves the entrance to the third floor open as hard as she can. Candles burn their way all along the hall. Passionate red flowers sit in vases made from drinking glasses and medicine beakers at each waiting table.

  A rhythmic thumping is now shaking the walls, and the woman’s voice is a whimpering that moves with the beat.

  Elizabeth can tell where it is coming from. Her stomach clenches and rolls as she bounces from wall to wall like an earthquake taking the building down with her. The world spins in her eyes as the thunder of the thrusts and the wails of the taken grow with each step.

  The smell of sweat and antiseptic is sickening. Metal fastenings scream for mercy as the pounding increases. Elizabeth’s heart is so loud it throbs in her ears.

  Fuck you, asshole. You can go to Hell!

  With her good arm, she throws open the door to the room she has been staying in.

  Metal dents and glass cracks. Candles shake with the new wind, and the two nearest the door go out. The smell of vanilla and scented smoke chokes out the stench of sex and sweat as Elizabeth glares at the dark figures copulating on the very bed she sleeps in.

  “Ah!” The woman screams in ecstasy.

  The man on top continues to pound like a fucking machine, and the moans choke.

  “Get off her, you fuck!” Elizabeth orders.

  Her throat scratches, and she tastes blood in the back of her mouth.

  The dark figures stop.

  “Elizabeth, is that you?” the woman asks in a voice as soft as a child’s.

  “Yes, it’s fucking me. Get off her, you asshole.”

  The man on top of Alexis disengages and slides to the end of the bed, not turning toward her. Even in shadows, Elizabeth can see the smile that stretches across his pretty boy face.

  “What are you doing here, Elizabeth? You should be down with the others, staying warm and having something to eat,” Alexis says.

  The young girl pulls the blanket up over her pale breasts and slides her long legs over the edge of the bed. Bruises and marks line her legs from ankles to groin. She goes to stand, but the man places a hand on her shoulder, and she stops.