The Feral Children (Book 2): Savages

by Simpson, David A.

  “Can you take the kids out before you do?” he asked. “I had a little sister once.”

  Kodiak looked behind him, Landon and Clara were staring wide-eyed through the doorway.

  “Mount up,” he told them, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  They were waiting on him, silently watching, when he came out down the steps and slipped his knife back in its sheath.

  35

  The Prisoner

  Swan opened her eyes and winced at the brightness from the bare overhead bulb. It had been so long since she’d seen electric light, it fascinated her for a moment. Her eyes felt puffy, her nose hurt and the pain in her head reminded her how it got bashed against something hard over and over until she blacked out. She groaned, reached up to touch it gingerly and pushed herself up onto a sitting position. She was on a plastic covered bed in a concrete room. A basement from the looks and smell of it.

  Gordon.

  She seethed and took it all in. She panned slowly around and her eyes fell on a young woman sitting in the corner of the room where the light barely reached. She had a white knuckled grip on the pillow in her lap.

  The woman stood and approached her, still clutching the pillow. Swan noticed the yellowish tint of old bruises and the scars on her arms from cigarette burns.

  “I hoped you wouldn’t wake up,” she said softly. “They hit you pretty hard. You’ve been out for hours.”

  Swan glared at her but remained silent.

  “They’ll be coming for you soon. I can’t stop them, no one can stop them.” Tears fell from her eyes and carved tracks through the makeup on her pretty face revealing the bruises she tried to cover.

  She looked at the pillow, “I thought I’d spare you the pain. Smother you and let them think they killed you with that blow to the head. I’m not that brave though, you’re just a kid. They’re upstairs now talking big talk, thinking up ways to make you pay. Most of its crazy talk, they’ve been drinking nonstop since they brought you in, but you killed Skull and Blind Mike. They’re pretty mad and Gordon is urging them on, offering prizes for best torture.”

  “Send him first,” Swan snarled. “He’ll never leave this room alive.”

  Misty wiped at the tears on her cheek. “I think he’s afraid of you. I think they all are. They talk about what you did last winter. How you and your wolves killed so many of their friends.”

  Swan stared at the pillow. “Are you gonna do it?”

  The woman shook her head in shame. “I can’t, even though it would be a mercy, I can’t. I’m too afraid.”

  Swan softened her look. She peered deep into the woman’s eyes. “Set me free, I can end this. You won’t have to fear him anymore.”

  “You’re just a girl.” She shook her head and turned to leave. “I won’t tell them you’re awake. I can buy you a little more time, but sooner or later they’ll get tired of waiting.”

  “Wait!” Swan said. “What’s your name?”

  “Misty,” she said, exited the room and closed the door softly.

  Swan heard the lock click into place and stood shakily and stretched. Nothing was broken. Her head hurt and her face was sore but she felt okay. She was clean, dressed in a flannel night shirt and someone had filed down her nails. They weren’t dirty and ragged like they usually were. Her hair smelled nice, too. Strawberry shampoo. She hated it. It was useless for hunting, every animal for miles would know she was in the woods. They had rubbed some kind of coconut scented lotion on her skin and she wondered who had bathed her. If it was one of the boys, she’d gouge their eyes out.

  She tried the door but it was solid wood, well built and she wouldn’t be able to get through it, not without some kind of battering ram. The room was bare except for some strange looking exercise equipment and it was all bolted down. Some of it looked like stuff from a medieval torture chamber except it was covered in leather. She ignored the big pieces that looked like stocks and concentrated on the hanging swing. It was suspended by chains from the ceiling beams, if she could get one of them loose, she’d have a weapon.

  36

  Smith’s Landing

  Kodiak jogged beside Otis, easily keeping pace since the big bear carried his gear. Caleb rode in the saddle on his back. He saw a horde shuffling along ahead of them in the twilight and yelled back over his shoulder.

  “Twenty or thirty coming up, get ready!”

  At one time the tribe would have hidden, quietly slunk into the woods or turned around and ran the other way but they were different now. Bob had shown them they didn’t have to be so afraid of the undead. Sure, they were dangerous but so was mowing the yard or driving a car. If you knew what you were doing, if you had safety equipment, it was just a job you had to do. Only the zombies trapped inside buildings were any real danger, they were still fast and vicious. The old broken down deaders wandering the roads were slow and jerky. They only posed a threat if their numbers were so great they couldn’t be killed. The tribe had never seen anything like that in rural Iowa, there weren’t that many people.

  The horde heard him yell and turned towards the thundering tribe bearing down on them. Caleb handed down his Warhammer and together he and Otis plowed right through them. They barely broke stride, the weakened husks were bowled aside and tumbled over. The rest of the tribe cut them down as they rode through the hissing monsters. They crushed them under foot or slashed at their heads. Donny brought up the rear and when he jogged through, there was only one still crawling. A spear thrust later and it wasn’t.

  They topped a slight rise and a faded sign welcomed them to Smith’s Landing. The river valley was filled with trendy shopping stores, luxury car dealerships and an eclectic mix of ethnic restaurants. It also had an exclusive gated community with tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course and tall iron fences to keep the deplorables out.

  Even from this distance they could hear strains of music blasting and see the lights. They stood, breathing hard and couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

  “These people are stupid.” Vanessa said.

  “Good.” Kodiak answered. “Better for us.”

  Donny pointed to the back side of the dark golf course illuminated by the rising moon.

  There is a gate in the back, he signed. The boy said it’s not guarded anymore.

  They cut through the side streets to avoid the massive horde of zombies that pressed against the tall iron fence. They keened and moaned and tried to push their way in. Kodiak couldn’t believe how relaxed they were about their security. It didn’t matter how strong the gates were, that many undead pressing against them would eventually break them down. At least they didn’t run into any wandering zom’s, the music and lights pulled them to the front gates of the community.

  The strange procession darted down the outlying roads through the outskirts of town. Vanessa and Ziggy trotted ahead of the tribe while the three bears ran in a triangle formation with Kodiak at the tip. Caleb rode tall in the saddle, his body in sync with the bears loping gait. Like the other little ones, he carried a dozen sharpened screwdrivers in bandoliers crisscrossing his chest. Clara rode in front of Analise on Daisy’s broad back, her baby doll clutched tightly in one hand and an icepick in the other. Landon was on Popsicle, doubled up with Tobias. Both boys wore blue lines painted on their grim faces and it made them look fierce. Harper was astride Bert and the three capuchins poked their heads out of the backpack she wore. Feathers, beads of acorns and strips of leather decorated the harness and bold symbols were painted on the giraffes spotted hide. The wolves raced silently along with the foxes right behind them.

  The moon illuminated the deserted streets and the tribe of children and beasts painted for battle, prepared for war. Birds watched the procession from the safety of their nests. Small rodent eyes glittered and hid in the shadows as the clicking of nails on asphalt and the quiet thunder of thousand-pound bears rumbled by. All the hours they had spent with their companions, the endless and sometimes frustrating training, the days and nights
working together, sleeping together and playing together had formed a bond that was almost supernatural. The children had learned to think like animals. The animals had learned to sense and feel and know what their humans wanted them to do. The connections ran deep. The animals would kill or die for their children the same as they would one of their own cubs and the children would do the same for them.

  Kodiak breathed deep and steady as he jogged and prepared himself for what was to come. It was almost time. Time to put a stop to this madness once and for all. This was where it ended for either him or his enemy. He prayed that Swan was still alive and unharmed. He prayed that they all came through the other side of the upcoming battle, but if someone had to fall, he prayed it was him.

  The rear entrance was a decorative iron gate which was set in the stone wall. It was locked but Otis did what Kodiak showed him, he reared up and bounced his weight on it a few times until the deadbolt snapped and the gate swung open. They rested for a few minutes as they made last minute preparations. Armor was adjusted and buckles loosened from the run were cinched tight. Weapons were unsheathed and Kodiak asked one last time if anyone wanted to change the plan, maybe come up with a better one.

  “The best plan is no plan,” Tobias said. “We rush in, we kill everyone, we free Swan.”

  Every head nodded. They had discussed sneaking around, looking for weak points, watching from afar to see if there were roving guards but every minute they waited was a minute Gordon could be hurting her. They remembered the beating he’d given Kodiak, it was harsh and cruel and would have killed him if the tribe hadn’t stopped it. It would be worse for Swan. She was a girl and Gordon hated her even more, if that were possible. Who knew what kind of humiliation and pain he would inflict on her.

  They hurried through the overgrown golf course, followed the lights and the sound of music towards the house. They passed by Gordons’ grisly collection strapped to the fence by the clubhouse. The disembodied heads gnashed their teeth as they ran by. The tribe ignored them. The real threat was hidden inside the million-dollar mansion that was lit up bright. They were having a party and Swan was the guest of honor.

  They didn’t pass any sentries as they came up the dark streets and as they neared the house Zero howled and charged past them all. He had picked up her scent.

  37

  Swan

  Swan was crouched in the darkness with a chain wrapped around each arm and enough hanging free to lash out and break heads. She was waiting to ambush the first person that walked into the cell.

  Misty stopped in the doorway and was silhouetted by the light coming in from outside.

  “Swan?” she asked and juggled the box in her hand to flip on the switch.

  Swan gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to bash the girls’ brains out, she wanted one of the boys. She wanted Gordon.

  She gasped when she saw the girl crouched and ready to spring, her teeth bared in an animal snarl.

  “What’s wrong? Move!” A man’s voice growled behind her.

  “Nothing.” Misty said. “Stay back. You heard Gordon, nobody touches her. He doesn’t want her damaged anymore.”

  She shoved the door closed with her foot before the half-drunk boys could see the feral girl.

  They stared at each other for a long moment before Misty broke the silence.

  “Can you really put an end to this?” She whispered.

  Swan stood and should have looked comical in the flannel night shirt and dangling chains. She should have looked like a thirteen-year-old girl playing dress up in a bad Halloween costume but she didn’t. She looked vicious. She looked scary as hell the way her pitiless eyes glittered and she moved with animal grace.

  “How many are there?” Swan growled “and what kind of weapons do they have?”

  Misty stuttered her answer, the little girl scared her.

  “Probably not, then.” Swan answered. “But I can guarandamntee if you get me close to Gordon, I can kill him. That’s all that matters, right? He’s the one calling the shots?”

  Misty nodded.

  “They’ve been talking all afternoon,” she said, still standing in the middle of the room with the box clutched in her hands. “They have a hundred different things they’re going to do and each one sounds more awful than the other. They’re going to teach you a lesson. They’re going to make sure you can never hurt any of them ever again.”

  A tear tracked down Misty’s face as she continued.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if Gordon didn’t hate you so much. You get used to the sex stuff they make us do but the ideas they have…”

  She broke off and hung her head.

  “They’re all drunk and afraid of Gordon and I heard what he did to your friend, the crippled boy. They have worse planned for you.”

  Swan nodded, fear and reality set into her young mind. This was her last chance. She’d fight them the best she could, but she knew in the end it wouldn’t matter. There were too many. She’d let them know they’d been in a fight, though.

  “I’m not telling you this to scare you.” Misty continued. “I’m telling you so you know what’s coming. I’m telling you so you don’t surrender. You have to make them kill you, Swan. If you don’t, you’ll wish you had.”

  She opened the box and pulled out the wedding dress, complete with veil and long train.

  “This was mine. He wants you to wear it because he said tonight is your wedding night. Tonight he’s going to have his way with you and so will the rest of them.”

  “Over my dead body.” Swan snarled, repulsed at the thought.

  “Exactly.” Misty said and emptied the rest of the box. “It’s the only way. Gordon has the only gun, you have to make him shoot you.”

  Swans’ leather pants, her armor, some makeup and lipstick and a pair of short knives tumbled out on the bed.

  “I was supposed to burn your clothes,” she said, “but I thought you might want to wear them one last time.”

  Swan looked at the wedding dress in disgust as she pulled on her pants but paused and fingered the soft silky gown.

  “I have a plan,” she said. “Help me get into this thing.”

  38

  Fight

  Swan looked at her reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that covered one wall. The dress was too big but with her armor and leathers on she filled it out. She cut off the train and slit the sides from floor to armpits, leaving only a few thin strands to hold it together. She smeared mascara on her fingers and wiped it across her nose, eyes and cheeks. Her smile was savage.

  “They’ll know you helped me.” Swan said. “They’ll come for you.”

  “I know.” Misty said then showed her the knife in her hand and the scars on her wrists. “I won’t fail this time.”

  “You could fight.” Swan said. “You could help.”

  Misty shook her head. Up until the world fell her whole life had been about hair styles, beauty magazines and nail salons. She’d never been athletic, had never played sports and had never struck anyone in anger. She didn’t know how to fight back.

  “No, I can’t. I tried once. They laughed, plucked the knife out of my hand and slapped me for being silly. I just can’t. This is my way of escape, it’s what I want.”

  Swan wanted to argue but the boys outside banged on the door.

  “Let’s go!” one of them yelled. “Enough stalling, the Boss wants to see his bride.”

  Misty pulled the veil over Swan’s painted face and smiled sadly before she opened the door. They grabbed Swan roughly and pulled her out of the bondage dungeon, past row after row of wine racks and finally into the little elevator. Bong snickered drunkenly when the doors closed and reached over to grab her breast.

  “Your boss won’t like that.” She told him as she let the paring knives drop into her hands.

  “What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” The other boy said and reached cruelly between her legs. “But it will hurt you.”

  Their laughter turned to gargle
d splutters as the blades flashed across their throats. A crimson shower spurted out in arcs, covered her in hot blood and both boys grabbed their flayed open necks. Their eyes widened as she threw back the veil, revealed her blackened face and wide smile. The elevator came to a stop on the second floor, the doors slid open and the wedding march started playing over the speakers. Drunken cheers and lewd shouts came up from below, promises of pain and what they were going to do to her. Swan thought about running. She could rip off the dress and flee, find a window to climb out. She could escape but there were a half dozen boys dressed in ill-fitting suits waiting at the head of the stairs. Her bridal party. They would catch her. Gordon wanted maximum humiliation and maximum degradation for her. He knew it was supposed to be a special day, the happiest day of a young girls’ life and he was going to make it the worst.

  They’re going to know they’ve been in a fight. She told herself. Get a few more before they get you.

  She braced herself, stepped onto the landing and smiled at the silence and shocked faces when they saw her blood covered dress, her painted face and the knives in her hands. The balcony doors were open to let in the summer breezes and the sound of a howling wolf could be heard over the strands of the bridal song. Other wolves joined and they were close.

  She tilted her head back, let out a howl and heard the answering howls of her pack. She smiled a wicked smile and ran for the stunned boys on the landing. She might walk away from this fight after all.

  Swan charged into the older, bigger boys who threw up their hands in surprise and confusion. None of them had weapons, none of them wore armor. There was no need, she was supposed to be a scared, little girl. She sprang, landed and aimed for eyes. One boy went over the banister as they tried to scramble out of her way. She growled and snarled and her steel flashed and found skin with every thrust. She was a hell beast, moving fast, slashing faster then jumping to the next boy. A bleeding arm or slashed leg would stop them, make them tend to their wounds. She didn’t have time to kill them all, she could come back and do that in a minute. They tried to defend themselves, tried to attack but the blades spoke the language of pain, found soft flesh and laid it open. One of them tried to grab her, slam her to the floor but she jabbed the short, blade into his belly and pulled upward. He screamed as it split open his stomach and acid diluted whiskey poured out.