The Dead Saga (Book 6): Odium VI

by Riley, Claire C.

  When everyone was done eating, the Rejects women started to clear the table and I grabbed a couple of the plates and took them into the kitchen. The kitchen was clean and organized, and barring the dust on the unused shelves and the scent of damp in the air, it was as if death had never touched the place.

  A couple of the women turned to look at me. I expected to see fear or worry—or even the opposite: anger and resentment—but instead they smiled and gestured for me to help them, and I obliged.

  We cleared the dishes away and scraped the leftovers into bowls and placed them in the pantry. It felt good to be doing something normal again, something mundane like cleaning and organizing, and though none of the women were talking, there was a connection between them all that I admired.

  The kitchen door swung open and Shooter and Gauge came in, their eyes, no doubt, doing the same double-take that mine had done. It was probably stranger for them since it was their clubhouse.

  Shooter walked around the main kitchen counter, his hand running along the shiny surface as if he were tracing the memories of the past. I watched him silently, his features pulling in tight momentarily before he looked up and caught Gauge’s gaze. Gauge nodded and let out a heavy breath, something silent being shared between them before Shooter finally straightened and turned to look at me.

  “Wondered where you’d got to,” he said.

  “Just helping out. Keeping myself busy since I can’t be in your meeting,” I replied, trying to hide the bitterness in my voice.

  “We’re holding it now.” He watched me, his blue eyes seeming to darken as they roved over my face. “I thought you and O’Donnell should be there,” he added.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew what a huge thing it was for me to be in that meeting. Hell, for any woman to be in on that meeting. I looked over at Gauge and saw the look of displeasure on his face, but he nodded to show me he accepted it.

  “Okay then,” I said quietly and put down the can of food I was holding. We’d been about to start organizing the stores and work out what food we had to go on when Shooter had come in. I turned back to the women, who had all stopped what they were doing and were watching the exchange in surprise.

  “We’ll be in church when you’re ready,” Shooter said. “Do me a favor and keep your mouth shut in there.”

  I opened my mouth to object when Gauge interrupted. “Brothers are already pissed off he’s letting you in, so why don’t you throw him a lifeline.”

  I looked from Gauge to Shooter, still ready to argue my point, but eventually decided against it. “All right, I’ll try.”

  “Try real hard, woman,” Gauge bit out before turning around and walking away.

  “You know I don’t do things just to piss you off, right?” I said to Shooter.

  He cracked a grin and turned and left the kitchen and I rolled my eyes at his turned back.

  “I’ll put you across my knee if you roll those fuckin’ eyes at me again, Nina,” he said, letting the door swing closed behind him, and I couldn’t stop the blush from rising in my cheeks.

  “You girls okay handling this without me?” I asked the Rejects women as I tried to ignore their humor-filled smiles.

  The Rejects women were the opposite of the Rejects men, in that they didn’t talk. It seemed like a choice and not an order, though, so I didn’t question it. They were smiling and seemed happy enough, their faces and bodies free of cuts and bruises that would have indicated them being abused. And they’d seemed more than happy the night before, serving behind the bar and huddling up with the men.

  They nodded and I turned and left the room, heading to the church, my stomach full of knots. The church turned out to be just a room with a long, ornate wooden table in the middle of it and a bunch of serious-looking bikers sitting around it. Two Rejects men were going in before me, and I clicked the door closed behind me and found a space at the back of the room to try and blend in. Of course, blending in with forty leather-clad, bearded bikers wasn’t easy. I found O’Donnell had had the same thought as me and I stood next to her silently, glad she was there too.

  “Apparently this is a first,” she said discreetly.

  I didn’t have chance to reply, as Shooter slammed the gavel down on the table and brought the meeting to attention. Gauge sat on one side of him and Balls on the other, and at the opposite end of the table Butcher sat with Scar and another biker I had heard someone call Axe. No guesses how he got his name, I thought with a shudder.

  “All right, party time is over. Time to get down to business,” Shooter said, silencing the room and commanding the attention of every man in it. “We all know why we’re here, but in case any of you sorry motherfuckers have slept through the last forty-eight hours, the Savages a group of cannibalistic traders of human flesh, have taken your president and a friend of ours—Mikey.” His eyes met mine briefly from across the room and I forced myself to look away, guilt and shame balling in my stomach. “As you all know, the Highwaymen don’t stand for shit like that. Kidnapping, murder, torture, are all big no-nos to us.”

  A couple of men laughed at that and Shooter smirked.

  “But what most concerns me is that these bitches are selling off people like cattle. Trading flesh for guns and barbequing people’s nearest and dearest like this is all perfectly fucking normal.” He pulled out a cigarette from his cut and lit it, blowing a long plume of smoke out while he let his words settle. He finally looked back up, his hard gaze moving across the people in the room. “The Highwaymen and the Rejects ain’t always agreed on shit,” Shooter continued, eliciting a couple more laughs.

  “That’s the fucking truth of it,” one of the Rejects laughed and slammed a hand on the table.

  More laughter erupted around the room, and even Gauge managed to crack a smile before holding his hand up to silence everyone.

  “Well, there’s the first thing we all agree on,” Shooter said with a smirk. “But let’s get serious for a minute, because this shit ain’t normal and it ain’t fucking acceptable, and it’s time to end them and end this.” He slammed a heavy fist on the table and every man copied him, cheering in unison as they stomped their boots on the ground.

  Shooter glanced at Gauge and then at Butcher, and both men nodded approvingly.

  “The Rejects have already gone up against them and come away stripped of their president and their weapons, so we can’t afford to make that same mistake,” Shooter said.

  “We underestimated them,” Butcher said, drawing the attention of everyone. “Didn’t know how big their crew had got or know about the traps they’d set up already. It was like they knew we were coming, and that don’t sit easy with me, but I don’t know how they would have known.”

  “Ain’t no snakes in our club,” Scar replied darkly. “I checked every one personally, so we’re clean. Just damn good luck is all it is.”

  “Well, we need to make sure that they’re shit out of luck moving forward. We all have something to lose from this. The Highwaymen trade water and blades with the Savages, and that’s obviously going to stop now, so we’re going to need to find their water source.” Shooter stubbed out his cigarette.

  “The Rejects too,” Butcher said. “I’m guessing that their water supply must be close to their cavern, but we’ve looked a couple of times on maps and couldn’t see anything local for them to ration it from.”

  I glanced over at O’Donnell, who looked like she was going to have an embolism if she didn’t get off her chest what she wanted to.

  “What is it?” I asked her quietly.

  She shook her head to silence me, but if nothing else, I wanted to know what she was thinking.

  I cleared my throat and said it a little louder so I’d attract some attention to us. “What is it? Do you have an idea?”

  A couple of the men turned and glared at us, but no glare was darker than that of Gauge’s. O’Donnell side-eyed me like she was going to kick me in the shins, but whatever, it was done now.

  “
I was just thinking, what if they weren’t rationing it themselves, but trading with someone else.”

  “Like another group of Savages somewhere?” Butcher asked, oblivious to the death glares we were receiving.

  “No, like, other people like us that are oblivious to what these women were capable of. Or maybe they aren’t oblivious. Maybe they know and they’re meat traders too. Trading water for humans?” She shrugged nonchalantly, but we were way too in tune for her not to be getting the same chill down her spine that I was getting at the thought of that.

  “That’s a strong possibility,” Shooter said with a nod of his head.

  “More cannibals?” Balls grumbled.

  “One thing at a time,” Shooter said.

  “Kill the Savages, take their supplies—” Scar started to cut in.

  “Save anyone else that they have in their caverns,” I interjected.

  Scar smiled slowly. “I like it. Kill, steal, and then save. Works for me,” he grunted with a smile.

  “All right,” Shooter said, bringing the attention back to the front of the room and away from the little spat Scar and I were having. “Raise your hand if you’re with me and let’s destroy the Savages. Because they’re worse than the meat sacks crawling our streets, these Savages,” he sneered. “They’re the real monsters in this world—not you or me, but them. Ain’t no sense in what they’re doing. No reasoning behind it barring a sickness that must have crawled up inside them. This world is still a beautiful fucking place, and we need to take it back from these monsters.” He stood up and placed both hands on the table, leaning forward until his hair fell around his face, and he stared around at each and every one of us, his blue eyes burning with intensity. “I want them gone from this world—our world—and I want anyone who agrees with their ways gone too,” he said through gritted teeth. “This ain’t just killing. It ain’t just torture. It’s so much worse, and I won’t allow it!” he yelled, his voice booming in the cramped space. “I want them all dead! So Highwaymen or Reject, man or woman, we put that bullshit to one side and we work together now to rid our world of this filth! Because together, we can start again, brothers and sisters. Together, we can bring this world back from the brink of elimination, and it starts by taking out the Savages and everything that they stand for!”

  I stared at Shooter in awe, my eyes wide and my jaw slack. He was beautiful and mesmerizing. And you couldn’t help but fall in line with him after that speech. The room erupted in cheers and boot stamping, fists slamming against the table as they all recognized the same enemy. Not each other for one, but the Savages. Chairs scraped back as the men began to stand, and Gauge and Balls began to pour whiskey into shot glasses, sliding one to each man.

  Shooter stood up straight. “Who’s with me?” he growled out, and I shivered as every man in that room raised their glass and cheered. He smiled and picked up a shot glass of whiskey before throwing the liquid to the back of his throat. He looked around the room at men united after so many years. A clubhouse full of bikers ready to fall in line with him and be led, and he smiled.

  His words were empowering and beautiful, full of passion and energy, but that smile was the fuse to dynamite. I had no doubt that Shooter was going to rid the world of the darkness that was seeping into the very veins of it.

  Shooter was going to blow up that world and create something beautiful in its ruins.

  Chapter Twelve

  “We need more men,” Butcher said from across the room.

  He was right. Even with the Highwaymen and the Rejects reunited, if what Butcher and O’Donnell had said was true, there weren’t enough of us to take on the Savages. Especially now that they had most of the Rejects’ weapons.

  Gauge puffed on a cigar before placing it in the ashtray. “We can probably get us another three or four. Got a couple of nomads living up in the hills with some people there. Battle, Sketch, and Rex. They’ll be leaving those people unprotected while we take care of this, but I’m sure they’ll be more than ready for the break.”

  Butcher shook his head. “Still ain’t enough.” He pulled out a small baggie from his cut and tipped some powder onto the smooth table before using his knife to push it into a thin line. Then he leaned over it and snorted it. He sat up rubbing his nose and I looked away.

  “I might be able to help,” O’Donnell said, coming forward. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

  All eyes turned to her and the men parted so she could get closer to the table. They clearly didn’t like that she and I were in this meeting, but they’d accepted it at least. All except Scar. But then again, Scar seemed to permanently look like he wanted to kill everyone.

  “What are you talking about?” Shooter pressed impatiently. “I’m not having women on this, and even if I was, one woman ain’t going to be making a whole world of difference.”

  I scowled at him but he ignored me. He was an idiot if he really thought O’Donnell and I were just going to sit there while they went to war. Maybe he was just an idiot altogether, because we seemed to be having the same argument constantly.

  O’Donnell gave him the middle finger, eliciting some chuckles from around the room. Especially me.

  “The group I’m from are called the NEOs. It stands for New Earth Order, and the man running that group—Aiken—he’s like you, Shooter; he won’t stand for people like the Savages. He wants to make the world a better place. Not just for him, but for everyone.” She stopped and took a breath before continuing. “He doesn’t normally like to get involved in other people’s bullshit, though, but since the Savages have Phil and the Rejects made that Clare woman and her sicko husband pay for what they did, he might just join the cause.”

  Shooter looked across at Gauge and then back to O’Donnell. “How many of you are there?”

  She looked hesitant to tell him, and her loyalty between her people and her feelings for Mikey were at odds, but she eventually gave up the information with a sigh. “Give or take, fifty-eight, though some are old and some are just kids.” She chuckled to herself like she was remembering some private joke. “So, useable people? Maybe thirty-five and one kid.”

  “One kid?” Gauge asked with a scowl. “We ain’t bringin’ a kid in on this.”

  It was O’Donnell’s turn to smirk then. “You’ll see.”

  “Where’s your base?” Butcher asked.

  A light sheen of sweat ran across his forehead and his eyes were bloodshot, though I wasn’t sure if that was from the drugs or from the fact that clearly an infection was setting in. I was hedging my bet at a combination of both. I wondered why the Rejects or the Highwaymen hadn’t offered him any antibiotics. I knew Shooter had some, and though Butcher wasn’t a Highwayman, surely they could have traded for something.

  “I can’t tell you that,” O’Donnell said without hesitation. “But I was looking at a map of this area last night, and if I can take a couple of people back to Haven, our base, I can be there and back in a day—two, max. We’re not that far really.”

  “A lot can happen in two days, bitch,” Scar bit out. “Our prez’s life is on the line here.” He slammed his fist on the table, making it shake, like we needed the reminder.

  “I know, I know, but if I could get them here, would that be enough people?” she asked.

  Shooter leaned back in his chair, a look on his face that told me he was adding the numbers up. He lit another cigarette before replying.

  “I think if we can get the nomads here and your people, we’d have enough, maybe. The attack would need to be coordinated and planned, though, and we’d need more weapons. I’d be happier with twenty or more people to topple the odds in our favor, since we’re going into uncharted territory, but there’s no one else out there that can fight and wouldn’t be just slaughtered.” He sucked in his lower lip, his gaze moving to me.

  “There is,” I said, my cheeks heating as the attention from the men in the room focused in on me. “There are the women at the clubhouse. At your new clubhouse
.”

  “Absolutely not!” Shooter growled out angrily, his glare telling me he wanted me to keep my mouth shut.

  “They can fight, Shooter! I trained them myself,” I yelled. “And they’ll want to help.”

  “And if they all die? What then?” he yelled back. “What will become of the world then?”

  “Then they die.” I held out my arms, my forehead creasing in confusion. “What if we all die out there? Death happens, you can’t shield them from it forever. I’ve been training them, and they’re good. Really fucking good.”

  “She’s right,” O’Donnell agreed. She glanced back at me. “And if she trained them, then I’d trust them to fight alongside us.”

  I felt a small glow of pride at her last statement, but I’m stubborn so I refused to show her or anyone else that.

  Scar snickered from the corner of the room and I swung my gaze to him and glared. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

  Scar looked up at me, his dark eyes burning into mine and making me want to shrink inside of myself. There was something perpetually evil about that man. And I had no doubt that if we rescued Drag, things for the Rejects would be no different than before. I made a decision there and then that I would kill Scar, or die trying.

  “Shooter ain’t going to send his women to war, bitch,” he chuckled darkly. “He’s got a plan for you all.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Shooter barked from his seat, and I thought he was angry because Scar had just called me bitch and he knew how much I hated that. But I was wrong.

  “What? She don’t know your plans for the future? She don’t know how you’re trying to set up this perfect little clubhouse where the women are safe, protected, and there for the sole purpose of repopulating our world?” Scar cocked his head to one side, his gaze landing on me. “He not tell you that, darlin’? You bitches are just babymakers to him and the Highwaymen. Ain’t nothing special about you other than you got the equipment for the job.” Scar chuckled and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “He’s not going to risk your lives because you’re the fucking future.”