by Kate L. Mary
The only issue comes when they discuss the wagons. Two of the women, the tall one who grabbed me and another one with skin the color of coffee beans, want to load the supplies onto a wagon, while the other women want to leave it behind.
A woman with gray, stringy hair lifts her hands before the discussion gets too heated. “I am Elder Warrior, and I will choose,” she calls. “It cannot make the trip up the mountain, and we do not want anyone coming after it. We will leave the vehicle behind.”
The other seven women turn their backs on the wagon like her decision is law.
When they head our way, I stiffen, and for the first time wonder what our fate will be. These women kept the seven of us alive for a reason, but what that reason is, I can’t even begin to guess. Are they hoping to hold us for ransom? If so, they’re going to be disappointed. The men who signed up for this detail did it because they had no money, no family, and no hope. We are worthless in the eyes of the rest of the world.
“Stand,” the woman with the dark skin says when she stops in front of us. “We will go now.”
I struggle to my feet, finding it difficult to maintain my balance with my arms tied behind my back the way they are. The ground is slick with mud, and two men actually slide and start to lose their footing, but the women are there to brace them before they have a chance to fall. With the heavy rain coming down, it’s tough to make out the faces of the men at my side, and the two I can see, I can’t put names to. We’ve been on the road for a couple weeks, but I’ve been too miserable to take the time to get to know anyone other than Daniel, and that wasn’t by choice.
“Move,” a woman at my back barks.
She shoves me, but it isn’t hard enough to make me fall, just enough to get me moving. I walk, cringing when cold mud squishes between my toes, and follow the other men and women toward the horses. There are half a dozen animals, but eight women and seven men, and I can picture the women riding the horses through the rain as they lead us behind them, tied together by rope. But that isn’t what happens, and I watch almost dumbfounded as one by one the men are helped onto the horses.
When it’s my turn, one of the women holds me steady while another laces her fingers together and kneels and motions for me to use her hands as a foothold. I slip my mud-covered foot into her hands while the woman at my back gives me a push and the one in front hoists me up, and I find myself sprawled across the horse on my stomach. Some careful maneuvering by the women fixes that, though, and once I’m straddling the animal, the broad woman who killed Daniel climbs on with me.
I sit behind her, my arms still behind my back and my body shivering from the cold. A leather strap is tied around our waists, securing me to the woman, and someone throws a thick blanket of fur over my shoulders.
All around me, the other men are in the same positions, already on horses or being helped onto one. The women are silent, focused on their task. They gather the items they salvaged from our wrecked camp and tie them into bundles, attaching them to the horses. The aroma of wet fur is heavy in my nostrils, along with the salty scent of body odor from the woman in front of me. The smell isn’t sweat or filth, which is how the vagrants in the city smell, but earthier. Dirt and rain and pine, with a hint of perspiration. Not pleasant, but nothing to cringe away from.
When everyone is seated, we take off, moving in a line. There are twelve of us on horses, the front horse holding two men instead of one prisoner and a woman, while three women lead the group on foot, carrying bundles of stolen goods and weapons. The woman in front of me rides like a pro, using the horse’s mane and a gentle press of her heels to lead it where she wants it to go. The pace is slow, but with the fur around my shoulders, I’m surprisingly warm.
It isn’t long before the rain tapers off, but even once the deafening noise of the storm is gone, no one talks, and the only sound is the steady beat of the horses’ hooves against the ground as they squish through the mud. There’s nothing but darkness upon darkness as far as the eye can see. Even the stars have been blotted out by the thick cover of clouds, and with the never-ending blackness in front of us, I can’t help wondering if these women are dragging me to hell.
After an hour or so of riding, my ass already hurts. It’ll be numb by the time we make it to wherever these women are taking us. It’s still night, but in the distance something has begun to form, pulling itself from the blackness like a rat climbing from a sewer. It’s a continuous shape, swallowing up the horizon. A mountain, maybe, or a forest. It’s hard to tell with the thick darkness hanging over us.
The woman in front of me is as stoic as she is muscular, so I doubt she’ll tell me a thing, but after hours of riding in silent suspense, I find it impossible to stay quiet. “Where are we going?”
“Our village.” She doesn’t even look back, and she doesn’t elaborate.
A million other questions go through my head, but I say nothing because I’m too afraid to hear the answer to most of them.
We go back to riding in silence.
The rain may have stopped, but the air is still wet, and my body is covered in goose bumps thanks to my damp clothes. Even the fur draped around my shoulders can’t block out the chill in my bones, and I bounce back and forth between sweating and freezing as, in the distance, the sky turns orange. In the dawn of a new day, I’m able to see I was right and the massive shape looming in front of us is, in fact, a mountain.
The light also helps me get a better look at our captors. They’re wild, the very definition of savage, and their leather clothes homemade, as are their weapons. The fur draped around my shoulders isn’t a blanket, but a pelt that looks like it was peeled right from an animal’s body. Still, in the light of day, there’s something beautiful about these women. About their strength and power and the way they carry themselves with their heads held high. Wherever they’re from, it’s obvious they’ve been secluded from the outside world for a very long time. Possibly since the plague.
When I glance over my shoulder, the eyes of the woman on the horse behind me bore into mine. Her skin is the color of coffee beans and her irises only a shade lighter, and she has her hair shaved to the scalp, revealing every follicle on her head, and muscled forearms that flex with each step the horse makes. She’d be beautiful, with defined cheekbones and full lips, if there was anything soft about her at all. But there isn’t. She’s as hard and unyielding as steel.
In that moment, with her gaze holding mine, a new and terrifying possibility occurs to me, and the shiver that shakes my body has nothing to do with the dampness sinking into my bones. These women could be cannibals. Those groups existed, back in the early days after the plague when food was scarce and life was hard, and though it’s believed they all died out years ago, it’s possible some still exist. Hidden away from civilization, wild and savage like these women.
When a second shiver moves through me, I pull my gaze from the woman and hunch my shoulders like it will make me invisible. More than ever, I wish I hadn’t let that damn railroad company sucker me with promises of good fortune. I should have known shit like that doesn’t exist anymore, especially not for a guy like me.
Learn More
Acknowledgments
The first round of thanks goes out to my agent, Stacey Donaghy. Even though we weren’t able to find a home for this book, your insightful feedback and notes helped make this story what it is. I will always appreciate your hard work and encouragement.
To Rebekah, for loving this book and always being there to cheer me on. Thanks for all the support.
The Book of David was the second book I ever wrote, but it has been through several rounds of revisions and a lot of character building to get it where it is right now. Starting out at just over 50k words when it was first written, the final product is over 102k words, and it is a much better story for it.
I can’t remember who read it over the years, but I do know that my first critique partner, Lisa Terry, was present for the journey, as were my three original cheerleaders,
Erin, Sarah, and Tammy. Thanks to all four of you wonderful ladies for helping me make this book what it is and giving me the confidence to keep going.
As always, thanks goes out to Jan Strohecker for reading through the manuscript, as well as my other first reader, Courtnee McGrew.
To Lori Whitwam for her editing skills, as well as Amber Garcia for her PR savvy.
Lastly, to my husband who is always patient and supportive, who made me feel confident in my decision to pull this book from traditional publishers when I did it, and who believes in me more than anyone else. Thank you, and I love you.
Also by Kate L. Mary
The Broken World Series
Broken World
Shattered World
Mad World
Lost World
New World
Forgotten World
Silent World
Broken Stories
The Twisted Series
Twisted World
Twisted Mind
Twisted Memories
Twisted Fate
The Oklahoma Wastelands Series
The Loudest Silence
Zombie Apocalypse Love Story Novellas
More than Survival
Fighting for a Future
Playing the Odds
The Key to Survival
The Things We Cannot Change
Surviving the Storm
The Blood Will Dry
Collision
Tribe of Daughters
The Outliers Saga
Outliers
Uprising
Retribution
When We Were Human
Alone: A Zombie Novel
The Moonchild Series
Moonchild
Liberation
The College of Charleston Series
The List
No Regrets
Moving On
Letting Go
Anthologies
Prep for Doom
Gone with the Dead
About the Author
Kate L. Mary is an award-winning author of New Adult and Young Adult fiction, ranging from Post-apocalyptic tales of the undead, to Speculative Fiction and Contemporary Romance. Her Young Adult book, When We Were Human, was a 2015 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medal winner for Young Adult Fantasy/Sci-Fi Fiction, and a 2016 Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal winner for Young Adult Science Fiction, and her dystopian novel, Outliers, was a Top 10 Finalist in the 2018 Author Academy Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy, and the First Place Winner in the 2018 Kindle Book Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy. Don’t miss out on the Broken World series, an Amazon bestseller and fan favorite.
For more information about Kate, check out her website: www.KateLMary.com
Sign up for her Newsletter
