by Brant, Jason
“A slice of heaven.” The guard gestured toward the children. “They’re practicing for a play they’re putting together next weekend. Got an hour or so before curfew to rehearse.”
“How is this possible?”
“Valerie.”
“That chick with the red hair?”
“That’s her.
“She runs this place?”
“Built it herself.” He puffed up his chest. “We don’t just survive here—we thrive. We have a purpose again. Like the old days, but better.”
Cass glared up at his massive mug. “Oh really?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re all happier than we ever were before.”
“My husband might be dead. My child was taken from me.” She pointed at the blood covering her. “And I just killed a man while he tried to rape me. That all happened because some assholes wanted to sell me to this place. So excuse me if I don’t buy into this best-place-on-earth horseshit.”
The grin finally slid from his face. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. I really am. But we can help you here. We really can. You and yours are safe now.”
“What’s your name?”
“Bill.”
“Bill, show me where I have to go and tell me what I have to do so I can see my son.” She glanced out over the camp. “Before I lose my temper again.”
18
“What are they doing out there?” Adam asked as he watched the locals through a hole in the wall. “They keep dragging things into that field as if they’re planning something tonight.”
“Got me, bro. Looks like they’re building a big bonfire or something. Can’t quite tell.”
“They’re digging a hole, too.” Lance squinted against the setting sun. “Who knows what these nymphos are doing.”
“I hope that fire isn’t for us.” Adam turned away from the wall. “Lance, you don’t think they’re going to sacrifice us to some Norse god, do you?”
“What?” Greg almost fell over as he staggered away from his peephole. “What if they’re fucking cannibals, bro? Are they going to cook and eat us? I saw this movie once, Cannibal Holocaust, and—”
“Relax.” Lance put a calming hand on his shoulder. “They have livestock out there. I don’t think they’re cannibals.”
“But he said they might sacrifice us to a horse god!”
“Norse.” In spite of how completely screwed they were, Lance almost chuckled at his friend’s confusion. “As in Viking.”
“Oh.” Greg let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t want anyone eating me.”
“That’s understandable,” Lance said. He didn’t quite understand how Greg had made the jump from Viking sacrifices to cannibalism, but then again, the man thought they were talking about horses. “I need you to stay calm. We need to be ready and able to break out of here if we get the chance. If we’re all freaking out, we might miss an opportunity.”
“Yeah, I gotcha. Sorry.”
Lance released him, watching the weird cult people outside again. He’d come to appreciate Greg as a person, in spite of his more annoying personality quirks. Sure, the guy drove him mad every now and then. Yeah, he said ‘bro’ more in a day than anyone should in their entire lives. And yes, he asked moronic questions now and then.
None of that changed the fact he’d become a dependable worker. A neighbor they could count on if they needed help. Against all odds, he’d morphed from an annoying ass Lance wanted to strangle to an annoying ass Lance would call a solid human being, a friend even.
The people outside continued preparing an area in the field behind the house. They dragged firewood onto a massive pile, chatting and laughing as they worked. Logs were already affixed to the ground in a semi-circle around the fire pit for seating.
A few men lashed two beams into a massive cross.
They propped it straight up in the air, using another hole they’d dug to secure it in place. The cross loomed as darkness encroached upon the field. Seeing the shadow of the cross stretch across the uneven grass twisted Lance’s stomach. He considered the bizarre people outside to be some kind of a weird sex cult, but now he wondered if they were more than that. Normal folks didn’t affix massive crosses to the ground in front of what would soon be a roaring bonfire.
Lance cursed under his breath.
Wiped sweat from his brow even as the temperature outside continued to cool.
Fall had settled in several weeks ago, the leaves turning, the evenings shrinking. The chill in the air did little to calm the anxiety building in Lance as he watched the weirdos outside prepare for whatever strange activity they had planned.
A shirtless man, hairy and sweaty, urged some of the other cultists to step back from the fire pit. He sprayed the wood with what was probably an accelerant before setting it ablaze. The fire spread within seconds, flames reaching for the sky.
The entire area brightened under the towering inferno.
More people meandered from the house, congregating around the bonfire as the last of the daylight fled the sky. They whooped and hollered, laughed and drank, kissed and fondled each other.
Lance wondered once again how in the hell so many strange people had managed to survive so long. Half were inebriated already and pawing at the others. None seemed concerned for their safety.
The first wails of the infected reverberated through the woods, over the fields.
No one cried out in fear.
They didn’t flee to the house or a hidden bunker.
The cultists actually cheered at the sky, howling back at the damned.
Fear crept up Lance’s spine as he listened to the Vladdies in the surrounding forest. Even if the idiots by the fire weren’t afraid, he understood how vulnerable they were in their little building. A single vampire could blast through the wall. Take them all out with ease.
“The hell is this place?” Adam whispered.
“Bro.”
“I have no idea.” Lance watched the spectacle in disbelief. “How is this possible? How are they still alive?”
“Bro,” Greg said louder. “They’re bringing Megan out.”
Lance turned his attention from the horny crowd at the fire to the horny crowd exiting the house. Magnus King led a small contingent from the back of the farmhouse toward the bonfire. Tall men flanked him on either side. Eifort walked to his left, her head swiveling around as her eyes searched the grounds.
Lithe, topless women surrounded the lot of them, sashaying seductively toward the raucous group.
They’d bound Eifort’s hands in front of her.
“Oh shit. They’ve tied her back up.” Lance shifted his weight nervously. “What are those bastards going to do to her?”
“Should we make a lot of noise, get their attention?” Adam asked.
King offered Eifort a seat in front of the fire.
She tentatively sat, still surveying her surroundings.
Her face was flushed and sweaty, but otherwise she appeared unharmed.
Greg groaned beside Lance. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good,” Lance breathed.
More Vladdies shrieked in the distance, each cry ratcheting up Lance’s anxiety. The beasts moved closer by the second. The sheer number of wails made it difficult to accurately judge how far away they were, but Lance guessed they couldn’t be much farther than the opposite side of the field.
The crazies by the fire stood at death’s door and they couldn’t be less concerned.
Massive flames licked skyward.
The shadow of the cross stretched away from the fire, into the darkness beyond. Details on the cross Lance hadn’t noticed before were visible under the glow of the blaze. Bindings were attached to each arm of the horizontal log and another at the base vertical one.
Someone had carved odd symbols all over the wood.
Adam noticed the ties on the cross a moment later. “Oh, Christ.”
Staggering back a step from the wall, he turned to Lance.
“We need to stay calm,” Lance whispered. “We’ll get out of—”
“Promise me,” Adam cut him off. “Promise me that you’ll take care of Lilith and the baby if I don’t get out of here.”
“We’re all getting out of here.”
Adam’s face twisted in panic. He pointed toward the wall facing the field. “They’re going to tie us to that goddamn cross and do who knows what!”
“We don’t know what they’re planning yet. We have to stay calm and—”
“Promise me!” Adam lunged forward and grabbed Lance by the shoulders. “No matter what happens, swear to me that you’ll take care of my family!”
“You’re going to—”
“Swear it!” Adam squeezed Lance’s shoulders until it hurt. “I have to know you’ll watch over them!”
“I’ll take care of them, bro.” Greg stepped up behind Adam.
They ignored him.
“Of course,” Lance finally said. “I’ll protect them with my life. Always. But you’ll be there to help me. We’re all getting out of this together. And then we’re going to find everyone else and get the hell out of here.”
Adam’s grip eased. “Thank you.”
“I need you to keep it together.” Lance took a deep breath through his nose. “We’re going to jump the first asshole who comes through that door, get his gun, and then we’re in business.”
After Adam nodded, he turned to Greg. “Thanks, bro. I know you’ll protect Lilith no matter what.”
“I’d give my life for you guys.” Greg gave him a curt nod. “You’re family. The only family I’ve really had.”
Outside, the shrieks drew closer.
Lance watched the cultists around the fire and waited for an opportunity.
19
Cass paced around the small office, cracking her knuckles and fidgeting with her hair. She’d showered in a small bathroom a few minutes before, relishing the hot water cascading over her tense shoulders, but hurrying because she needed to see Lincoln. The amount of filth circling the drain between her feet sank home just how disgusting she’d become over the past few weeks.
Bathing was a luxury as they fled the islands and then worked their way up the coast. Hell, food had become a luxury. Poor Lance had nearly starved himself making sure everyone else ate enough calories.
She’d watched the dirt wash off her.
The blood.
They had soap and shampoo sitting on the floor for her.
A new set of clothes.
Deodorant.
If she could have spent three hours in that shower, she would have.
But Lincoln waited.
Her friends.
Valerie.
The guard, Bill, had waited for her to finish getting dressed, then escorted her down a hall and deposited her in the small office. Dusk had already arrived outside. Supply requests covered the walls. Coffee cups and paper plates sat on a countertop running the length of one wall. The place appeared to have been a lounge at one point, but now seemed more like a supply room.
A soda machine sat in the corner. The front was lit up, a sight Cass had walked past thousands of times without a second glance. Seeing it now almost brought tears to her eyes.
They had power.
Stacked quarters sat on the counter beside it.
Cass grabbed one of the coins, held her breath, and tried the machine.
A soda dropped.
Pop, as the Pittsburghese in her wanted to call it.
It didn’t fizzle when she opened it. The first chug tasted so sweet she almost gagged. She hadn’t had a candy bar or a soda in years. None had. The can of soda had gone flat long ago, but she gulped it down anyway. It didn’t taste right. She wasn’t sure if that was her misremembering what it tasted like or if the thing was so old it had lost most of its original flavor.
After throwing the can in a garbage bin beside a small desk in the corner, she resumed pacing. Valerie had her waiting for too long already.
“Screw this.” Cass tried the door.
Locked.
Cass felt her face flush with anger.
She grabbed a folding chair propped against the desk and marched across the room. Just as she raised it over her shoulder to smash out the lone window in the room, keys jingled on the other side of the door.
Valerie stepped into the office, stopping midstride when she saw Cass standing in front of the window. “Planning your great escape?”
“Where’s my son?” Cass didn’t lower the chair.
“The others are eating dinner.”
“Take me to them.”
“Soon.” Valerie glanced over her shoulder at Bill. “We’re fine here.”
Bill tilted his head questioningly at Cass. “You sure? She seems a bit… aggressive.”
“Quite sure, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be out here if you need me.” He pulled the door closed.
Cass glared at Valerie. “I won’t ask again. Take me to my son.”
“You’re in no position to make threats. We’re going to speak for a few minutes. When we are done, you’ll be released to your friends and family.” Valerie pointed at the chair. “Have a seat. The sooner I get some answers, the sooner you’re out the door.”
Cass considered bashing Valerie over the head, pro-wrestling style. Bill remained outside, though, and she doubted she could take on such a brute of a man. Especially when he had a pistol and she held only a chair.
Instead of charging forward like a bull as she usually did, Cass unfolded the chair and sat on it backward, her arms resting on the back. She gestured for Valerie to start talking.
“Before we begin, you should know that I’ve already questioned most of your people and I’ll get to the rest soon.” Valerie’s features hardened. “So if you lie to me, I’ll know. And lying is something I can’t abide by. Understood?”
Cass didn’t respond.
Just glared.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Valerie leaned against the desk. “What’s your name?”
“Cass.”
“Cass? What kind of name is that?”
“The Cass kind.”
“Is that short for something? Cassandra?”
“No fooling you.”
“This will go much faster if you cooperate. What’s your last name?”
Cass shrugged. “What does that matter? Are you going to check my credit score?”
It was Valerie’s turn to sit silently.
“York,” Cass grumbled after a pregnant pause. “Cassandra York.”
“It’s been interesting making your acquaintance, Cass.” Valerie chewed her lower lip. “York, huh? Any relation to a Lance York?”
Cass tried to hide her surprise, but failed as her eyes widened. “He’s my husband. How do you know his name?”
“You’re married to Lance York?” Valerie straightened her back, sat forward. “The Lance York? The man who killed Frank Colt?”
Cass shook her head in confusion. How the woman could possibly know her husband’s name and what they had done to Colt utterly battled her. They’d fled the country a long time ago, never expecting to return, let alone to people who knew of them.
The discussion of Lance also jabbed a spike into her heart.
She felt the sting of tears and blinked them away, focused on her anger. “I’m completely lost here. How do you know about Lance and that piece of shit Colt?”
“I can’t believe this,” Valerie mumbled to herself. Her eyes lost focus as she stared through Cass instead of at her. “We’ve found the man who took out Colt.”
“Actually, I killed Colt. But fine, give him all the credit.”
“What?” Valerie snapped back to the present.
“Colt shot Lance in the chest and left him for dead. I tracked them down and sank an axe into Colt’s heart.”
Valerie’s eyes widened. “You killed Colt?”
“Damn right. Nobody fucks with my man.”
&
nbsp; Valerie took Cass in from head to toe again, just as she had when they’d met over Wayne’s dead body. “The attitude fits… Did you have a mohawk? Lance’s companion had a mohawk then. Pardon me, but you don’t look the way I imagined.”
“Yeah, I had one.” Cass brushed her hair back absentmindedly. “What in the hell is going on? How do you know us?”
“And a child,” Valerie said, shaking her head in what seemed to be disbelief before locking her attention on Cass. “This place exists because of what Lance, or you, I guess, did. I lived in a settlement south of here. We were struggling, like everyone else back then, but we were getting by. Then Colt and his men came through and wiped us out. They took our best men, killed most of the rest, emptied our supplies, and burned our housing.”
“Sounds familiar.” Cass remembered what Colt had tried to do to them, the stories they’d heard about his past.
“Those of us who survived, mostly women and the elderly, fled north across the Pennsylvania border until we found this place.” Valerie glanced out the window into the approaching night. “We worked hard to start over, but always feared Colt would hear about us and come back. Some people gave up. Just purposefully took off into the night. Hope had left us.”
Valerie gestured at Cass. “But then we heard that a man named Lance York killed Colt. Had smashed most of the war machine marching behind him. What had happened to Lance and followers, we didn’t know. We owe him… you… an enormous debt. Without you, we couldn’t have built what we have here. Lance is a bit of a legend around here.”
Cass considered her for a few seconds, said, “I appreciate hearing your backstory, but you’re doing an awful lot of talking for someone who is supposed to be asking questions.”
“You must be his wife.” Valerie smiled. “We’ve heard about how sassy you were.”
If Valerie uttered the words Sassy Cassie, Cass would have to kill her on the spot. Lance hadn’t called her that in months, and it had taken a lot of sex withholding for him to finally give that damned nickname up. Of course, that punishment had annoyed her as much as Lance, possibly more, but he’d gotten the point.
“Where did you go after killing Colt?” Valerie asked. “You disappeared.”
