The Gristle & Bone Series (Book 1): The Flayed & The Dying

by Roach, Aaron

  Sophia pulled out the box, opened it and began uncoiling long strips of cloth.

  “Put the gauze against the wounds, front and back, make sure you get them all, Soph. Pack as much as you can in there, then take that bandage and wrap it around her belly, over the gauze. Keep your fingers on it! Yes, like that, keep pressure on the wounds as you come around with the wrap, the tighter the better.”

  Sophia did as she was instructed, her hands becoming slick with red in the process. Kat groaned, with tears streaming down eyes she clenched tightly closed.

  “You’re going to be okay, Kat,” Sophia said in a choking voice.

  Ahead of them loomed the line of fence that separated the army section from the rest of camp. Ward smashed through it without braking, sending it crashing to the ground before turning the wheel to head towards the medical facility. From the turret above, he heard the adrenaline-fueled Litz whooping as they drove over and passed the downed barrier. Around them, stumbling bodies reached for the vehicle before they were cut down beneath Litz’s trigger-happy onslaught.

  Ward brought the Humvee to a sudden stop in front of the squat building. He hopped out of the driver’s seat, shouting for Litz to cover him as he ran for the door. A pair of groaners in fatigues were sawed down in front of him, and another was blasted as Ward reached the unlocked door, flew it open, and threw himself inside.

  Ward wasn’t an army medic, but in his civilian life he had seen enough animals stitched up at the pet clinic to have a passing idea of what to do for Kat. He grimaced. She was going to suffer through a rough next few weeks if she came out of this alive. He grabbed sutures, sterilizing solutions, more gauze and bandages and painkillers. He yanked out a desk drawer to use as a makeshift box and tossed all the items inside. He opened a cabinet to see an assortment of bottled tablets and antibiotics. Not knowing which ones specifically that he needed, he reached his arm in and scooped the whole shelf down into the drawer. As he made his way back to the door to leave, he ran past the desk from which he had taken the drawer. Atop the desk was a stack of books, including a human anatomy reference book and an army medic’s handbook. He scooped those into the makeshift container as well.

  Outside, Litz was frantically spinning the turret, cutting down a swarm of groaners who were beginning to collect around the Humvee.

  “I’m low on ammo, Ward! Hurry the fuck up!”

  Ward exited the building at a run. When he reached the vehicle, he tossed the drawer of items at Sophia before jumping back into the driver’s seat. The Humvee kicked forward, and he drove through gathering bodies before crashing through the gate that led out of the camp. A moment or two later he turned onto a dirt road and left the screaming, dying camp behind. As they moved farther and farther away, and the dead things grew fewer and farther apart, Litz ceased shooting.

  “How’s she doing, Soph?” the soldier asked as he abandoned the turret and came down through the top to join them in the cab.

  “She’s still breathing, but it’s faint.”

  “Just keep talking to her, okay? Keep her awake.”

  Sophia nodded and Kat murmured softly.

  “Where should we go?” Litz asked, directing his attention to Ward. “We need a place to fix her up, and fast.”

  “That town, the one we were at the other day. They had a bank there.”

  “You thinking about taking out a loan?” he asked wryly.

  Ward maintained the serious expression on his face. “That’s where we’re going to do it – the surgery.”

  “Huh? Why not a hospital or a clinic?” Sophia demanded from the backseat, interrupting them.

  “Sophia, what Kat’s about to go through…we don’t have any anesthesia or anything to dull the pain. It’s going to get loud enough to attract attention. We need somewhere secure to perform the operation, but also to hole up for a few days afterwards while she heals. The bank might have a vault we can lock ourselves into. A hospital or a clinic won’t have anything like that. Besides, those places...there might be too many dead things there.”

  In the mirror Sophia nodded, accepting his logic, before he brought his eyes to catch Litz’s. “Glad to have you with us, Litz.”

  Litz looked at him, his eyes hard, before peering over his shoulder at Sophia and the very pale Kat. “Until this is done, I’m here.”

  They exited the dirt road and drove onto a paved one, which they followed until they saw a large green sign among the trees on their right.

  “Welcome to Darby.”

  -92-

  The next morning the sun rose over a cold and soaking Gabe still lying in his sniper’s position above and behind the entrance to the cave. Cuddled in his armpit, Little Brother awoke, yawning to reveal his baby teeth.

  Kill Lou?

  “We’re still waiting,” Gabe replied. “Soon.”

  Kill Lou! Kill Lou!

  Almost on cue, Gabe heard the massive steel door of the cave being opened beneath him. Gabe focused his eyes through the scope and waited. Lou emerged within moments, the assault rifle with which he’d threatened Gabe and his family, slung over his shoulder. He walked out, his back to Gabe, and approached one of the concrete barriers where he unzipped and began to relieve himself.

  Kill Lou! Kill Lou!

  Gabe lined the sight of his rifle at Lou’s back and pulled the trigger.

  The crack of the gunshot sounded across the mountain and Lou went down spinning, his gun flying from his shoulder. Gabe stood up, aimed the rifle again, and divided the man’s leg in half at the kneecap.

  Down below, Lou roared in agony. Gabe walked towards him, peppering the man with rounds every few steps. As he drew closer, Lou saw his assailant and sobbed in fear.

  “I’m sorry, Gabe,” he cried. “I’m sorry!”

  But Gabe wasn’t listening. He shot again and again and again, careful not to deliver a killing shot that would end the man’s suffering. Instead, Gabe shot into the Lou’s limbs, then his shoulders and groin, then finally at his center mass until, in the end, he was more holes than flesh.

  Only then did Gabe permit him to die.

  “Gabe, you’re okay…” exclaimed Bishop from behind as he emerged from the cave. He was followed out by the rest of the community, all of whom came up short at the sight of Lou’s bullet-riddled corpse. “But how?” Bishop continued. “What about Molly? Riley?”

  Gabe ignored him. Instead, he stepped over Lou’s body and retrieved the weapon the man had dropped. He checked that it was loaded, and then looked down at Little Brother.

  The pup stared back at him, knowingly.

  Kill Everybody!

  Gabe turned to face Bishop, his eyes cold. “You shouldn’t have killed my boy, Bishop. You killed my Jacob.”

  “What? I –”

  Gabe shot the man through the heart before he could finish his sentence. As Bishop’s body collapsed, Gabe seemed to notice for the first time the rest of the cave dwellers gathered behind him, their expressions stunned at the violence they’d just witnessed. Gabe pointed at Lou’s body. “You let him lock us out in the rain!” he sobbed, bringing the rifle up to bear. “You let him kill us!”

  They screamed, turning and tripping over each other to flee back into the cave, but Gabe was too quick. He aimed the gun at their backs, fired into the crowd, reloaded, and fired again. He held the trigger down until none were left standing.

  When the last body fell, Gabe dropped the rifle to the ground, his mind and body numb to what he’d just done. He looked into the cave’s mouth and saw the ghosts of his family standing there, just inside the dark entrance, waving him in.

  At Gabe’s feet, Little Brother walked along beside him, wagging his tail.

  -93-

  “Confirmed. Jones is Briends.”

  [Does he have the package?]

  “Unclear. I can’t get eyes on it. Looks like he’s got a backpack or something underneath his poncho. Might be it.”

  [Follow him. If you get a shot, take it. We need that package.]r />
  “What if he doesn’t have it?

  [Command will not accept failure, Delta. Keep an eye out. Remember, Briends is here to rendezvous with the Rangers. We need to get to him before they do.]

  “Copy that.”

  Paul Musky watched from the parlor across the way as the Federation agent dropped his finger from his ear, ending his secret conversation with his earpiece. He hadn’t been close enough to hear the man’s words, but he didn’t need to hear what had been said to know why the man was there.

  Briends was somewhere in the crowd outside.

  Musky simply had to follow the operative, locate Briends and his party, extract them, and bring in the agent for interrogation.

  Easy work, he forced his mind to say as he downed his shot of bourbon. This was his first mission as a Ranger, and he didn’t want to make any rookie mistakes. The liquor gurgled in his gut with the pressure of it all.

  The agent made a move, stepping out from the alley where he had been waiting and into a crowd of refugees snaking its way up the street.

  Musky waited a few moments before heading towards the tavern’s exit and stepping out into the crowd, too. He turned left and followed the agent up the pedestrian street, making sure to stay a safe distance behind. As he tracked him, he couldn’t help but observe how the man walked. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but eastfooters carried themselves differently, almost pompously. It was something so subtle that he couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there, and to those who paid enough attention, it marked the man as a foreigner – an unwelcome Federalist on Frontier territory.

  A few yards ahead of the agent, there was another man who moved similarly through the crowd, though he kept his shoulders stooped and his head hung low in an attempt to blend in with the disheveled, war-weary throng of civilians in which he walked. The man was better at blending in than his pursuer, but the agent had still marked him, his gaze never wavering from the back of the unknown man’s head.

  That must be Briends.

  Briends didn’t seem to know he was being followed.

  On either side of the street, vendors in ragged clothing hocked food and wares, shouting out prices and offering to barter for the belongings of passersby. Musky’s experienced eye caught a thief, a child pickpocket, cutting his way into the satchel of a one-armed farmer who had no idea what the child was doing. Musky had walked right past them when a woman, a prostitute, suddenly stepped in front of him, causing him to halt abruptly so that he wouldn’t collide with her.

  “Fancy a ride, cowboy?” she asked.

  “Move!” he growled, shoving her out of the way.

  Ahead, the target, and then the agent, disappeared around a corner and into an alley.

  Musky quickened his pace, though he was careful not to break into a run. Delphi had warned him that enemies would be hidden in the crowd, other Federalist agents, and that to reveal himself would put his life in danger. He breathed through his nose, trying to keep himself calm and his demeanor casual. To the civilians around him, he looked like any other passerby going about his business. They were unaware that he and possibly several others among them were involved in a deadly race.

  A race where Briends was the finish line and one in which he was currently losing.

  Musky reached beneath his poncho to discretely free the gun from his holster. He knew the alleyway the men had gone into led to a dead end. There, he would make his move and the enemy agent would either be captured or killed, and Briends would be dealt with.

  Mission success.

  As he rounded the corner, Musky heard voices and he ducked behind a dumpster before he could be seen, cursing silently.

  “You’re a traitor. A fool to go against Command!” said one of the voices angrily. “Where is Briends? Where is Neyra’s work?” the man demanded.

  “A traitor? Maybe. But you were the one foolish enough to fall for this disguise. I thought you people were supposed to be intelligence operatives. You really thought I was Briends?” scoffed the other.

  Inwardly, Musky cursed. Damn! It wasn’t Briends! Then who was he? And where the hell was Briends? He peeked cautiously around the dumpster in an attempt to determine who the man really was. There, the one whom he thought was Briends was leveling a pistol at the face of the agent. Again, Musky let out a silent curse. Though the man had nothing to mark him as such, Musky recognized the man as an Operator – the Federation’s answer to the Frontier’s Ranger unit.

  His sworn enemy.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” said the operator as the agent raised his finger to the communication device in his ear. “I’ll be taking that. Take it out, easy now.”

  The agent glowered but obeyed. He removed the small earpiece and tossed it to the operator, who caught it out of the air.

  “What now?” the agent asked, his sour expression never leaving his face.

  The operator looked the agent up and down, before shrugging almost apologetically. “If I’m jumping ship, I might as well commit.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  As the agent dropped like a felled tree, Musky stepped fully out from behind the dumpster, pointing his own weapon and shouting at the operator to drop his. The operator looked at him, a small smile playing on his face, before raising his hands and dropping his pistol to the ground. He said nothing.

  Keeping his weapon trained on the operator, Musky knelt and placed two fingers on the agent’s neck, checking for a pulse. There was none.

  “Operator scum,” Musky snapped, rising back up to his feet. “Bloodthirsty fucking savages, the lot of you! Federation agents are assets to be captured and interrogated. You didn’t have to kill him!”

  The operator shrugged, that small smile still playing on his face. “Sorry, I’m new to your ways.”

  Musky was growing irritated with the man’s cavalier attitude. He advanced and pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the man’s forehead hard enough to leave a mark. The operator’s smile turned into a scowl.

  “You frontier folk sure have a nice way of greeting new allies,” the man growled.

  “Ally, my ass. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send you to hell with your Federation friend here,” Musky threatened, nudging the agent’s corpse with his foot.

  The operator’s smile returned, and he shrugged. “If you kill me, it might piss off the Doc.”

  Musky felt a presence behind him. Shit. He swiveled his head to stare into the dark eye of a muzzle raised at his face. His gaze followed the pistol, down the arm that held it, and up to a woman’s face.

  The fucking prostitute.

  “Hey cowboy,” she said with a wink. “Drop it.”

  Musky sighed in defeat before lowering his pistol from the operator’s forehead. The operator stepped forward and Musky moved to turn his weapon over to the man.

  “Keep it,” the operator said. “I meant what I said. We’re allies now. Call your friends.”

  Musky raised a questioning eyebrow to which the operator chuckled. “Come on, Ranger,” he said. “I know you’re not alone. I ain’t leaving this alley just to walk into a trap. Call your people. We need to talk.”

  Musky shook his head in disbelief. As much as he hated operators, he had to hand it to this one. He was well trained and knew what he was doing.

  Musky brought his fingers to his mouth and let out a high-pitched whistle. Within seconds the alley was flooded with a half-dozen armed men and women in ragged garb, their weapons drawn. Above them, another half-dozen individuals peered down at them from the surrounding roofs, rifles trained at them. They were Rangers and other brave Frontiersfolk, all. A woman stepped forward from the group on the ground.

  “They got you, huh, Paul?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Delphi,” Musky replied. “They got me. They knew ya’ll were here too.”

  Delphi nodded and patted him on the shoulder before taking another step to the operator. The woman the operator had addressed as Doc switched her aim from Musky to Delphi before the
operator gestured for her to lower her weapon. She did so.

  “My name is Delphi, Lead Ranger of the Denver Company,” Delphi told the man. “I assume you’re Maldonado?”

  Maldonado looked her up and down before bringing his eyes up to meet hers. They were fierce, stabbing almost, and daring him to do or say something to cross her. “Aye,” he answered simply.

  “Where is Thaniel Briends? Where is the evidence he has brought us against Federation Command?”

  Maldonado looked around at the scowling Rangers and the rifles trained at them from above. I fucking hate Rangers. He brought his eyes back to her and said nothing for a few long moments. Instead, he let the tension of the standoff settle over all of them and he saw with some satisfaction a few of the closer frontier people begin to twitch and fidget, their aims wavering as doubt took over.

  “Your people don’t look too confident, Delphi. You sure you can win this war?”

  “Command hasn’t been able to hold a single Federation position in the Rockies for over a decade,” she snapped, raising her head proudly. “We fare well enough.”

  “Aye,” he said, “but that’s not what I meant.” He leaned in close and whispered, “How will they fare against the dead?”

  Delphi’s eyes squinted and Maldonado saw that she didn’t have a ready answer for that. “Well, Delphi, Lead Ranger of the Denver Company,” he said mockingly, raising his voice again for the crowd and walking over to the dumpster. “I guess it’s a good thing that me and my friends have come to help you out.” He rapped his knuckles on the lid of the dumpster and a moment later a man rose from its interior, an embarrassed expression on his face.

  Some of the guns in the alley turned in the direction of the newcomer. He raised his hands in submission, his embarrassment turning into fearful surprise. It was almost comical.

  “What is this?” Delphi demanded, her eyes squinting impatiently.

  “I don’t think they appreciate the theatrics, Maldonado,” the man mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

  Maldonado ignored him. “Rangers,” he said, “I present to you Thaniel Briends, harbinger of Neyra’s doom.”