After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set

by Charlie Dalton

  If he wanted them to donate every week they were going to need some reserves to make a new start. That was if they didn’t up sticks and move somewhere else. It would have been a shame to give up everything they had cultivated at Mountain’s Peak but they simply couldn’t afford to support an entire clan of Reavers as well as themselves. Not if they wished to continue growing.

  If Theresa made a break for it she might escape. She knew the commune better than this gang of slobbering fools. She could cause them real harm if she sniped at them from a distance. It was a nice thought but nothing would come of it. She would in all likelihood be stuck there along with the rest of them until they let her go. If they let her go.

  One of the reasons she—and all the other residents—had come here was to be free. They were not the weak sheep the Reavers thought they were. They were survivors. The difference between them was the Reavers was they’d taken their destiny in their hands and didn’t assign responsibility to someone else.

  “Turn left,” the Reaver guiding her said.

  Theresa’s mind was wandering. Attempting to ignore what she would have to do in a few minutes. Murder evil men. She didn’t waste time thinking about whether or not she could do it. She knew she could. She had to. Every woman had the right to protect herself.

  They were heading toward the back of the commune, toward the larger communal rooms. She imagined long rows of curtains divided into individual cubicles. Her skin writhed. She would stab her assailant in the eye and make her escape. What about the other women? Could she free them too?

  She slowed, her steps faltering.

  Oh no.

  A pair of large Reaver men stood on either side of the doors that led into the main communal playroom. They were both bare-chested, smothered with hair. And inside, beneath the warm light of multiple candles, were dozens of naked men.

  She wouldn’t be handed to a single Reaver as she’d expected but an entire gang of them. She didn’t think there would be so many of them. How was she meant to make her escape now?

  “We’ve got a fighter on our hands here, boys,” the Reaver escorting her said. “She’ll last a sight longer than the last one, I’d wager.”

  “She’d better,” one of the bare-chested men said. “I barely managed to dip my wick before she passed out.”

  “That hardly stopped you though, did it?” the Reaver guide said.

  “Awake or asleep, makes little difference to me,” the bare-chested Reaver said.

  Chuckles all around. A working boys’ club.

  “No amount of slapping woke the bitch up,” the bare-chested Reaver said. “I must have been too rough on her.”

  “This one will hold up better, lads,” the Reaver guide said. “You mark my words.”

  “She looks firm enough,” the bare-chested Reaver said, looking Theresa over.

  “She does indeed.”

  The deep voice had come from behind them. The men turned and looked away sheepishly as if being half-naked now bothered them.

  “She’s a fine specimen, isn’t she?” the Mantis said.

  “Sorry, sir,” the Reaver guide who escorted her said. “This one’s for the men.”

  The Mantis stepped toward the Reaver who spoke, so close Theresa thought he was going to kiss the other man. Uncomfortable, the Reaver stepped back. The argument was lost already, in favour of the leader. He’d taken a step back not only physically but also psychologically. This leader, whoever he was, was smart, Theresa thought. He turned to the bare-chested men standing on either side of the door.

  “Do you mind if I take her off your hands?” he said. “I’m sure there are plenty more you can choose from.”

  “Yes, sir,” the men said, looking at their feet.

  Theresa was reminded of the way a misbehaving kid acted with his parents.

  “There we are,” the Mantis said. “That was easy, wasn’t it? Run along now and find another willing participant for your games. Better make it two. The boys look hungry.”

  The men mumbled their thanks and shuffled off to fetch new victims. The Mantis extended his elbow for Theresa to take.

  “Shall we?” he said.

  Theresa couldn’t believe she hesitated. She had allowed herself to come here to be an example to the others. The situation had turned out worse than she thought. Now she was being offered a way out. One man instead of dozens. Could she abandon the other women?

  No. This wasn’t abandoning them, she decided. It was an opportunity. Her plan relied on her being able to kill one man, escape, seize a weapon and murder as many of these sons of bitches as she could. She wasn’t going to do that if they were dozens of them to contend with. Alone with the Reaver leader, one-on-one, she might just stand a chance. After she opened fire, the Reavers would want orders from their leader. If he was dead, they would be less effective in their defense.

  Theresa affixed a smile to her face and took the Mantis’s elbow, feeling at the sharp tip of her screwdriver in her other hand.

  “Lead the way,” Theresa said.

  70.

  THE WOMAN’S once-perfect skin was brown and burnt. Her clothes had worn away, raged and strewn with holes. Her left breast hung loose, her pink nipple showing through the hole, exposed to the elements. The woman paid it no mind.

  Her hips swayed and rolled, mesmerizing, as she entered Mountain’s Peak via the huge hole that’d been blown in the wall. The Reavers—both men and women—paid her ample tribute as she passed. They whistled, the men pushing up their peak caps with a thumb to get a better view. The woman didn’t cover up or hide her nakedness. Even after the ordeal in the desert, she was the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. Their lust was obvious.

  A Reaver by the name of Rabbit approached and looked her up and down.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” he said. “Are you lost?”

  “Take me to your leader,” the woman said.

  “I’ll take you to my leader any time you want,” Rabbit said.

  Thick jawed and bushy-bearded, Rabbit stepped closer to her.

  “You look hot,” he said. “Want to go somewhere nice and cool?”

  “If that’s where your leader is,” the woman said. “Yes.”

  The Reaver turned to the others with an arched eyebrow.

  “Hear that, lads?” he said. “She wants to go somewhere cool and dark with yours truly.”

  He turned back to the woman. She stood stock still, unmoving.

  “And what’ll we get up to in this cool, dark place, I wonder?” he said, smacking the woman hard on the ass.

  He left his hand there to gauge her response. There was none. She took the blow without even flinching.

  “My, my,” Rabbit said. “Looks like we’ve got a real tough one here, lads. I might need a little help to break her. Anyone up for giving me a hand?”

  He wasn’t short of offers.

  “You’re wasting time,” the woman said. “Take me to your leader now.”

  “She likes it fast too,” Rabbit said. “Is this my lucky day or is this my lucky day?”

  He performed a low bow.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said. “Come. My leader is this way.”

  He took her by the arm and led her toward a squat building with no door.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  Rabbit pulled up short, face rising up to the sky. He exhaled audibly. Shit. And he’d been so close too.

  “Worm?” the Rabbit said. “Don’t you have someone’s ass to sniff?”

  The Worm had no great affinity with the other Reavers. He was an outsider, an outcast. His power lay in the clipboard he carried with him at all times. The accountant. The bean counter. Only he kept note of their resources, of their incomings and outgoings. What he lacked in strength of arm he made up for with cunning. For that reason, he was one of the most dangerous members in the clan.

  “You know the rules,” the Worm said. “The leader gets first dibs on the spoils.”

  “She c
ame from the desert,” Rabbit said, spying a loophole. “She isn’t part of the community.”

  “She’s here now, isn’t she?” the Worm said. “If the leader decides to let you have a piece, you’ll be first in line.”

  He took hold of the woman’s arm and led her away.

  “After me, that is,” he said with a backward glance.

  The Reavers, hard-ons throbbing and with nothing to unload into, hung their heads.

  “That’s all right,” Rabbit said, ego wounded. “There’s more than one hole for a rabbit to run down.”

  He grabbed the nearest girl—no older than twenty—and shoved her in the squat building. He was followed by two more men. She started screaming before they even began to tear at her clothes.

  71.

  THE MANTIS had taken up residence in the tent the council used for their weekly meetings. As the commune grew, they moved the meeting tent to another location if and when necessary.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” the Mantis said. “It can be difficult to maintain control of the desires of men. Especially when they are from the lower echelons of society. Though I realize it’s of little consolation, I have learned from experience that there is no difference between the desires of a poor man and the desires of a rich man. It is human nature for them to want things. The same things. There’s not a hair between them. Cater to one man and you can cater to a thousand.”

  He gestured for her to enter the tent first. A gentleman. Theresa supposed the leader of a Reaver clan didn’t have to be the same as his underlings. There had to be something special about a leader for him to be chosen after all.

  The candles had been lit, casting a warm glow over the small area. An amalgamation of pillows and blankets were strewn across the areas where the council usually sat and discussed pertinent issues.

  “Would you care for a drink?” the Mantis said.

  “A dry sherry if you have it,” Theresa said.

  “You know, I believe we do,” the Mantis said, moving to the drinks cabinet.

  And just like that, they had moved from a rape situation to a first date.

  “What do you do here at the commune?” the Mantis said, taking out two cups and pouring their drinks.

  “I’m the therapist,” Theresa said, moving to the sofa and taking a seat.

  “Therapist?” the Mantis said, pausing a moment from pouring their drinks. “I thought they’d died out with the vast majority of the human race.”

  “Most of us did,” Theresa said.

  “Not a lot of call for that line of work, I’d have thought,” the Mantis said.

  “More than you’d think,” Theresa said. “More people than ever before have seen disturbing things that cause problems later on in life.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” the Mantis said. “We’ve all had to do things we never expected in order to survive. And if they don’t, well, the dead don’t need to see a therapist, do they?”

  “No,” Theresa said. “I don’t get a lot of clients from the Rage quarter.”

  The Mantis placed her sherry on the table, then took a seat in an armchair across from her.

  “I’m sorry to ask this,” Theresa said.

  “Then don’t ask,” the Mantis said.

  His smile reflected her own.

  “I never expected someone like you to be in charge of a Reaver clan,” Theresa said.

  “What should I be like?” the Mantis said. “Big, hairy, and with no manners?”

  “Essentially, yes,” Theresa said.

  “Those types belong to the underclass,” the Mantis said. “Do not confuse me with my men.”

  “Why do you do the things you do?” Theresa said.

  “What things?” the Mantis said.

  “Killing, maiming, torturing, reaving,” Theresa said.

  “We do what we must to survive,” the Mantis said.

  “Sorry, that’s not good enough,” Theresa said. “You could set up a commune like ours. Hell, you could even join ours if you wanted to.”

  “You of all people know there are many different kinds of people in the world,” the Mantis said. “Always have been, always will be. Lords have always ruled over peasants.”

  “You consider yourself a ruling lord?” Theresa said.

  “What else are we?” the Mantis said. “We roam from place to place, taking from those who oppose us. Like it or not, we’re the ruling class. We rule by strength.”

  “That’s not how the ruling class has ruled for hundreds of years,” Theresa said. “At least, not in this country.”

  “You can choose to believe that if you wish,” the Mantis said. “The truth is, the rulers we elected to lead us in days passed aren’t much smarter than we ourselves are. They only wish they were, believed they were in many cases. They grew fat off the hard work of the ordinary working man. Why? Because they could. They saw the world for the way it really was. If you want to live in their world and be someone, you have to know how to break the rules for your own benefit.”

  “I was hoping I could convince you to have mercy on our commune and leave,” Theresa said.

  “We’ve already outlined our position,” the Mantis said. “There will be no negotiation. Now, if you please, strip.”

  The sudden change took Theresa by surprise. She blinked.

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  The Mantis peered at her over his steepled fingers. He didn’t break eye contact.

  “You thought you were here for polite conversation?” the Mantis said. “You’re here for my amusement. Strip. And do it slowly. I intend on taking my time with you.”

  Fear flooded Theresa’s system, clogging her throat and making it difficult to breathe. He was a monster. From the inside out, not outside in like the rest of his men. There was a reason he was the leader of this scum, she realized. He was worse than them. He did what they wouldn’t do. That was why he was top dog and they were afraid of him. And she ought to be afraid too.

  If it wasn’t for the long lump of cold metal in her fingers, she would have been terrified. She smiled, sheepishly, before standing.

  “All right,” she said. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

  72.

  “SORRY ABOUT that,” the Worm said. “These men don’t know what they’re entitled to.”

  He glanced at the woman’s exposed nipple and licked his lips. She had a good foot on him, with a strong athletic build. The way he liked them. He loved to tear them down piece by piece until they begged him to stop. But he never stopped, not until they were destroyed. He could be a very patient man.

  He might have been the number two in any organization in the history of the world. His meticulous nature and set of skills were valuable to every large organization. He was extremely efficient and did things most people—especially those in power—often hated. He got most of the quirks of leadership but without the target painted on his back. He wasn’t a threat to any of the Reavers physically and kept his stead in good standing by giving handouts to those he thought might be plotting against him. Food, women, drugs, whatever they wanted. Just to keep the peace. All he ever asked was for his fair share of the women. They were ruined by the time he was done with them.

  The guards outside the leader’s confiscated quarters let the Worm enter without giving him a second look. But the woman was an unknown. A guard held up a hand, barring her from entering.

  “We have to search her,” the guard said.

  “Look at her,” the Worm said. “Where do you think she would hide a weapon?”

  The guards did as commanded and gave her another look. He was right but this woman was gorgeous. They couldn’t let her go without checking her over.

  “You know rules,” the guard said. “Everyone gets checked.”

  The guards took turns in patting the woman down, taking longer than necessary with her breasts and crotch area. The Worm felt himself stir at the sight of them so obviously manhandling her in public like this. The second guard did the
same, ensuring to cup her large breasts with both hands.

  “All right,” the guard said. “She’s clean.”

  “Are you sure?” the first guard said. “Maybe I should check her one more time, just in case—”

  “That’s enough,” the worm said, stepping inside the tent. “Animals.”

  73.

  SHE NEEDED to get close to him, get close enough before she had to remove too much clothing. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on him. She swayed her hips and moved rhythmically, crouching and dancing, tossing her long hair like she’d seen in music videos she’d seen as a kid.

  The lack of food in recent years had made her body thin and firm, and with the extra hard work she’d put in on the farms, she’d developed a toned, firm body. The kind she could never achieve in the old world. No matter what diet she’d gone on, what fad she’d subscribed to, there was nothing she could do to lose the soft belly, the hips that were too round and motherly.

  It turned out, as with all things that required big change, you needed a bunch of new habits, habits that once strung together would become a whole new lifestyle. That was what had made the difference. The fact that was she had no choice but to change. Change or perish. And like the best things in life, the choice had been an easy one.

  She could see the lust in the leader’s eyes and, though it didn’t turn her on, it did make her feel wanted. She wanted to be desired by this man, just enough for her to get close to him. She unbuttoned her shirt, ensuring to hold the screwdriver tucked close to her body at all times. With her bra showing through the open front, she approached the leader, presenting her firm ass to him for inspection.

  He brought his hand back, high, in preparation of a hard strike. With his attention so focused on the act, she seized the screwdriver and brought her arm up, preparing to time her strike with his.

  The candlelight flickered as the front tent flap opened. Knocked momentarily out of rhythm, Theresa hesitated. The moment slipped through her fingers.