by Talis Jones
“We’ll need a town soon to resupply,” Remi shares as he checks the packs.
“There’s one nearby that won’t take us too far out of the way…” Win suggests before his voice drifts off at the sharp shake of Remi’s head.
“What?” I ask. They remain silent and I plant my hands on my hips, summoning a command into my tone. “What is it? We need a town, Win says there’s a town, so what’s the problem?”
Win snaps the rubber band at his wrist and Remi clenches his jaw. I stare them down confused as to what has them both so reluctant to speak.
“It’s a Corral town,” Win admits, ignoring Remi’s glare.
I’d heard that mentioned before, but never thought to ask what it meant. “Which is…?”
Win shakes his head. “Come on, Remi. She won’t let it go and she’ll find out eventually anyway.”
“Doesn’t mean she has to see it for herself,” he growls stubbornly.
Turning towards Win, I ask, “Which way?”
Reluctance in his muscles, he gestures and I follow while Remi eventually trails behind. We find a road surprisingly quickly and keep to its edge until I stop at the sight of a large town in the distance. Excepting the village that tried to shoot us, we’ve stayed clear of civilization thus far. Now though, I’m struck by the sight of it.
“Come on,” Win tugs.
I follow him step after step until we’re stepping through a massive set of gates guarded by Rangers at ease though their fingers never stray too far from their guns. Shops line the streets, kids race between the throngs of people, and my neck twists trying to take it all in. It’s nothing compared to a city, but after so long in prison and then the woods, it’s overwhelming.
“Is it called a Corral town because of the walls?” I ask Win.
“Not exactly,” he hedges then points up ahead. I’m not sure what he wants me to see but we shove our way through and approach a group of others leaning against a bit of fencing. Joining them, I prop a foot up on the lower beam and lean against the top. My quick scan reveals nothing other than a patchy field with kids playing, a few buildings attached where some go in and out. Men with guns pace the perimeter though I’m not sure why. Is it some sort of rustic daycare or a school or something? Why would they need this level of security?
“What–” I begin, but Win shakes his head and nods towards a scuffle that’s broken out.
I think the parents will come break it up, or one of the adults nearby at least, but no one moves. Instead a thread of excitement fills those gathered around the fence and my head whips to the side in horror as bids and encouragements fill my ears.
“That’un I’ve already got a deal with,” one reedy fellow brags. “Half down and half once old enough for sell.”
“Blonde hair brings more customers,” a woman with a hawk-like nose tells her companion. “That one’s perfect, not a strand of brown on her head.”
“Can’t afford it,” a wife lectures her husband.
“We’d make the money back with the help they’d provide,” he insists. “How about that scrawny one in the corner?”
She looks the kid over and scoffs. “It’ll be dead before you see an ounce of profit from the fields and then we’ll be even more in debt.”
I avert my eyes from the monsters breathing my air and my gaze lands on too many small faces and then my sight fills with a face pacing not fifty feet away and I can’t seem to breathe. The blood leaves my face and spots darken my vision.
Remi steadies me with his arm as I sway, his voice is low with worry. “Morgan?”
Win and Remi start arguing in hushed tones, but my focus remains locked on that face so like my own and I stumble back a step as his eyes lock with mine.
“He’s coming,” I whisper to myself though it slices through Remi and Win’s spat.
“Who’s coming?” Remi asks.
Win squints in the direction I can’t tear my gaze from and an odd sound squeezes from his throat. “The Corral Master,” he answers his cousin and the title makes my heart stop all over again.
Remi tugs at my arm. “Come on, he can’t hurt you. Let’s go. He probably just thinks you’re a new buyer.”
But I don’t go. My hands are clamped so tightly to the fence they might as well be fused to it. Too soon the Corral Master stops within arm’s length and looks me over carefully and I do the same to him. I take in each nick and scar in his skin, his sweaty brow, his shorn hair, his eyes that match my own, but what has my hands holding me in place while my feet yearn to bolt is not his aged face, but the meanness in his gaze.
“Well, well,” he smiles coldly with a tilt of his head. “If it isn’t the infamous Morgan Travers.”
“You know each other?” Win asks stunned.
Suddenly it’s as if I’m not a woman grown up, as if I didn’t spend a quarter of a century trying to survive in prison without losing my mind or body, as if I’m not the Horseman at all…I’m a little girl and I am frightened.
“Hello Vince,” I greet softly, my voice filled with trepidation.
“What are you doing here?” he growls and a part of my brain picks up on the tension spreading around us. The ogglers at the fence shift away though their curiosity keeps them close. “I know you’re not supposed to be.”
“Vince, what are you doing here?” He was supposed to be in Atlanta and yet here he is standing in front of me not anywhere near Georgia. “Where’s Tanya and Troy? And…and why did they call you ‘Corral Master’?”
Vincent’s eyebrows rise though his amusement is a cold thing as if he simply can’t believe I have the gall to ask and that sends another dose of fear down my spine.
“You killed them, Morgan,” he spits. “That’s where they are; in the ground.”
I flinch at his words, his hatred, his blame and Remi steps in close. “Hey, I don’t know who the hell you are or how you know Morgan, but back off.”
Vince barely glances at my friends, a sneer on his face.
“He’s my brother,” I share and the sneer drops from Vincent’s face only to be replaced with fury.
“No. I’m not.” His tone is firm, cutting.
I don’t understand. I can’t. I… “Vince,” I plead feeling lost and hurt and certainly confused.
Stepping in so close I have to lean back to avoid being jabbed by his accusing finger he flays me with more words. “I know what you did. News moves slower out here, but I know. It’s your fault they died and for what? Money? Fame? You were always an ambitious know-it-all and mom and dad indulged you. You took everything from me and I hate you for it.”
Tears gloss my eyes and I can’t even begin to consider summoning Gan to protect me from his attack. Guilt twists my gut even though it shouldn’t because I’d tried to stop that bomb. I’d tried and I’d lost my best friend in doing so. Now it seems I lost so much more. “How can you believe that, Vince? I didn’t do it, I was just someone to pin it on. We’re family, Vince. You know me. How…how can you believe that I would…”
“Liar,” he hisses and then I see it. He needs to believe it’s my fault, because it’s easier to tie up his grief and pain and aim it like an arrow. If he didn’t have this focused hate to compartmentalize his loss then he’d be aimless. At least he believes that and it’s too frightening to chance letting go, accepting responsibility, doing whatever it takes to heal.
“I’m sorry, Vince,” I plead softly. “But it wasn’t my fault–”
My words are cut off as my head whips to the side, his slap so hard I see stars and my hands are wrenched from the fence. Remi catches me and Win shoves up against the beams of wood with a snarl and a knife resting against Vincent’s throat.
“You don’t touch her,” he threatens.
Vincent doesn’t even react. “I have soldiers with guns watching my back at all times. One signal from me and you’re a dead man.”
I carefully shove Win aside and resume my stance at the fence, hands seeking the wood for purchase against his power. “Fin
e, believe what you want, Vince,” I relent angrily. “But how can you rationalize all of this.” I jerk my head towards the Corral he runs.
He laughs and I hate it. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“You’re selling children,” I insist, the horror clear in my tone. He was a father, how could even begin to allow this?
“And you slaughter them,” he sends back.
“Vince, I didn’t do it.”
“Get out of my sight, Morgan,” he warns. “Get out of my town or I’ll consider what sort of reward I could get for turning you over to the Rangers. Or maybe I’ll just let the people have you.”
“Vince,” I beg.
A firm hand wraps around my arm and forces me to release the fence and walk away.
“Think about Troy,” I toss desperately over my shoulder as Remi hauls me off. “See his face when you look at theirs.” Vincent’s face remains a slab of fiercely carved stone yet I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes at the vision I put in his head. I hope it plagues him, convicts him…redeems him.
Those young faces swim in my head like haunting ghosts, my brother’s hatred is like a brand burning into my heart, and I’m barely aware as I’m shoved into a plastic chair and a soda is pressed into my hand.
“Drink it, Morgan,” Win coaxes, kneeling in front of me.
With shaking hands, I do as he says and I hate how the sugar steadies me. I shouldn’t feel steady. Not now, not ever.
“Remi’s gone to get the supplies we need, but we’ll just wait for him here, okay?”
I think I nod. Maybe. I’m not quite sure. Win drags over another plastic chair and sits beside me making small talk not caring if I pay attention. It’s just something to distract me and I hate that too even while I cling to it.
A sudden shadow falls over us and I can practically feel the panic in Win. Looking up I see a woman and a man dressed in black, armed to the teeth, and too well cared for to be from here. They give off an air of money and lethality. They aren’t Rangers, they surely don’t belong to Vince, but they’re here for us. The Alliance? Were Remi and Win wrong about them not bothering to chase after me across the border?
“Morgan Travers?” the woman asks. I think her eyes are friendly to most, but certainly not now towards me.
I don’t know what else to do besides nod.
“You’re to come with us,” she orders reaching out to haul me out of the chair.
Win jumps in front of me, blocking their reach, and I set aside the soda. Gathering myself I dredge up Gan whom I’d thought I’d kicked off with my uniform. Standing slowly, leisurely, I meet their gazes around Win’s protective stance.
“And who might you be?” I condescend.
“Agents of Sanctuary,” the man identifies. “Now tell your dog to stand down and come with us.”
“You take her over my dead body,” Win growls.
The man shrugs. “We have our orders and clearly you have yours.” He unsheathes a knife and I shove Win out of the way as he jabs aiming for Win’s gut, twisting my own self out of its path while kicking out to crumple his knee. The woman holds back her partner and I keep an arm out in front of Win while staring both agents down, waiting. Over their shoulders I see Remi, bulging packs slung across his body as his grim face spies our situation. He meets my gaze and I send him a silent promise.
“You always go around shanking people, agent?” I drag my gaze down to his boots and back up, finding him wanting and letting him know it.
He starts forwards but the woman grabs his arm. “Cool it,” she snaps. “We’re not here to kill anyone, deserved or not.” Clearly, she believes I fall into the ‘deserved’ category. “We have orders to collect you and deliver you to Python. You made a deal and they expect you to keep it.”
“Van sent you?” I ask sharply.
“He’s waiting just outside of town,” she nods.
It sounds like a cliché set up in a movie and I’m in no mood to get jumped. “Prove it.”
The woman holds my gaze a minute and I let her look. Around us people have stopped to watch the spectacle though they don’t dare get too close.
“I suggest you try before my friend decides to lose his patience and shoot you both dead,” I advise guessing that Remi would have found a position to aim by now.
The woman’s eyes dart towards Win and I shake my head. “Not him.”
She gives a frustrated sigh and unclips a walkie talkie from her belt. “Van, Travers wants proof it’s really you and that we’re not going to assassinate her in a back alley somewhere.”
“Ms. Travers,” Van’s voice buzzes through the device and there’s something about the diction that sparks recognition in me. “Agents Sierra and Rooster will not kill you as much as they might like to. You’re too important for that, I assure you.”
Win snorts at Rooster’s name and the man sends him a death glare. I might be important but I have more than myself to think of now. Holding out my hand, I gesture for Sierra to hand over the talkie. Slapping it into my palm I grin with the arrogance of Gan.
“Van,” I call.
“Ms. Travers?”
“I’m not traveling alone,” I tell him. “I’ve got two companions and though I may be too important to Python for your agents to kill, they may not be and I’m not about to let something happen to them.”
“Understood,” he replies swiftly. “You come with my agents, and your friends will be left unharmed.”
I press the button to agree when Win snatches the device from my grip.
“No deal,” he growls.
“Who is this?” Van asks politely.
“The name is Winchester and like hell if my cousin and I are leaving Morgan alone with you.”
“I assure you she will be safe and taken care of.”
“No. Deal,” Win bites out.
Silence hangs between us, the tension still thick. Finally the device crackles and Van’s voice responds. “Fine, I will add you two to the bargain. Ms. Travers, your two companions may accompany you and be employed as your bodyguards if you wish so long as you stop wasting time and come now without any more fuss. Make sure your hooligans know they will be subject to our rules of conduct and company policies or else they will be ejected with no preamble. Is that understood?”
I glance at Win and he nods. “What about Remi?”
“He’ll agree,” he assures me.
Gripping the device tight in my palm, I press down on the button and seal our fate. “Deal.”
Eighteen
The vehicle is a bit snug with the three of us shoved into the back seat. Van sits up front while a different agent handles the wheel. I’m glad the two we met in town climbed into a different one. Smushed between Win and Van, I lean forwards a bit to glance out the window and see the security truck eating up the earth like a reckless adventurer while our fully enclosed ride streams forwards along a worn road. Win glares out the window at them while Remi remains silent in deep assessment of Dr. Vanguard Mehen.
“So how long is this trip going to take?” I ask to break the stiff silence. I know it will be quicker to travel on wheels than on foot, but right now the tension has me wishing the cousins and I were still bushwhacking our way down south.
Van taps a device on the car’s dashboard. “About four or five hours to the coast maybe,” he shrugs.
“The GPS isn’t sure?”
He glances back at me. “There are a lot more factors out here than traffic lights, Ms. Travers.”
My eyes narrow. “Excuse me for being locked up for the past quarter-century.”
Win snorts and it catches Van’s attention. “So who exactly are you two?”
“He’s a forgetful one, cuz,” Win tells Remi. Speaking slowly he gestures, “I’m Winchester and this is Remington and we’re traveling with our Auntie Horseman.”
“Very funny,” Van huffs. “You’ve already told me your names, I want to know who I’m dealing with.”
“The Wild Cousins,” Win grin
s proudly. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, would you accept this token of our gratitude for the lift?”
Hanging between Win’s fingers is Van’s wristwatch and the man gapes for half a second before snatching it back. “Interesting friends, Ms. Travers.”
“Aren’t they?” I smile. Deciding to be straight with him I say, “They were on the bus with me, supposed to be transferred to a prison in the Coalition. The bus crashed and we seized an opportunity.”
A tired sigh blows out from his lips. “I’ll make arrangements in case the Rangers decide to look for them.” Silence resumes until a thought strikes him. “You could’ve gone anywhere…”
“Yeah, I could’ve,” I agree. “But I was heading south to you guys.”
He reads the truth in my eyes and his brow furrows. “Why?”
I settle back between the comforting protection of my friends. “Figure it out, pantsuit.”
Van’s eyes take me in for a long minute before turning back around. Bending to rummage in a bag by his feet he pulls something out and tosses one to each of us. “This should keep your stomachs happy until we arrive at Python.”
Win tears the top of his with his teeth and begins squirting the contents into his mouth with relish. “Berry Bonanza,” he says licking his lips.
I examine the packet in my hand, a frown tugging on my lips. Silver, vacuum sealed, the size of my palm, flexible…
“Just eat it,” Win laughs.
“What’s inside?” I wonder cautiously.
Remi gently pries it from my hand and tears a corner open before handing it back. “It’s packed with nutrients that’ll keep you feeling full and fueled. They’re new, from Python actually, and they’re handy to keep in a travel pack.”
