Free World Apocalypse Series (Book 3): Captive

by T. K. Malone

  He wondered why he’d begun to remember. Why now, after all these years? Not more than two weeks before, he’d known nothing of that day, of the sewer and the luminous water. He’d only known Sable for being Sable: the voice inside his head who’d steered him like a mother, who’d been with him since his own mother had died that day.

  “Sable,” he said, addressing the stars, “what next?”

  But Sable didn’t reply at first, though Connor knew she was there with him. He now felt strangely at one with her, partners, not AI and man, and when her words did come, they came through his own lips.

  “We must find the queen. We must find Teah,” and that had brought a smile to his lips.

  “Why do you call her that?”

  Connor sensed confusion at his question. He could feel Sable trying to compute, to think the question through, but clearly to no avail. There was nowhere in his mind she didn’t delve for the answer, until she finally replied, “I do not know.”

  “Then that’s two things we’ve got to do: find Teah and find out why she’s called ‘The Queen’.”

  Connor had made his way back to the cabin and joined the others, but come the evening, he could face the confines of its walls no longer. He stepped out onto the stoop where he found two fat chairs, fat ones like those at his mother’s place in Christmas. He pulled them together and sank into their softness. Christmas: surely that would be the place to go. “Make that three,” he then informed Sable.

  “Three?”

  “I want to find out if Zac’s alive,” and Connor shut his eyes.

  10

  Connor’s Story

  Strike time: plus 10 days

  Location: Morton Deep

  Connor woke to see Gino’s face staring down at him, his finger pressed to Connor’s lips.

  “Shh,” he hissed, then bid Connor up. “Just slide inside, all quiet now.”

  Something about the soldier told Connor to do exactly as he’d asked. Then he heard voices in the dark of the night, distant but clear over the silence of the mountains. He eased himself off the chair and rolled onto his knees, crawling into the hut, the soldier behind him shutting the door without a sound.

  “Who?” Connor whispered, but Gino just put his finger up again.

  The voices grew louder. Connor could hear two of them as they neared the cabin.

  “At least there’s one building standing,” one said.

  They were close now, Connor thought, probably just by the stoop. Gino bade him draw back, and when Connor looked around, he couldn’t at first see the others in the gloom. Then he made out Molly’s eyes peering through the crack of the bedroom door. He began to ease back, but the sound of a footstep on the stoop froze him.

  “You think there’s anyone inside?” the same voice asked.

  “Nah, all gone, Nate. Long gone, I’d imagine. Grimes said the army scooped them all up. Shot the ones who refused to go.”

  “Believe everything Grimes tells you? Could have missed some. Heck, we almost—”

  “Shit,” the other voice hissed, “I can see embers in a hearth in there,” and Connor noticed a shadow withdraw from the window beside the door, the sound of a gun being cocked followed by a pump-action shotgun being readied. “There’ll be someone around here somewhere.”

  “Should we go back and get Grimes? What d’ya reckon, Dave?”

  “You really wanna go disturbing him? They’ll be most of the way into that crate of hooch by now. Anyways, could be just an old boy…or even a kid. Hey, you never know, it could be a woman. You wanna share a woman with Grimes?”

  Connor tensed then finally freed his feet and shuffled back a little, careful not to make the floorboards creak. He could hear his breath, and it was loud, far too loud. The back of his leg came up against the edge of the sofa, Gino backing up in front of him, his gun out and ready.

  “Nah, don’t wanna share no woman with Grimes,” Nate’s voice rang out, yet closer still.

  “Go ‘round the back, then,” Dave whispered, then cleared his throat and called in, “Y’all in there might just wanna think about coming out now.”

  Gino stopped backing up, then quickly crawled to the front door and stood beside it, his back to the wall. He motioned past Connor to Molly, who quietly emerged from the bedroom.

  “What do you want,” she hollered, nervously.

  Dave coughed again. “Just want to make sure…” Connor couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected Dave stifling a laugh. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay in there. There’s nasty folk about and that.”

  “I’ve done all right on my own so far,” Molly hollered and made to move forward, but Gino gestured her to stop.

  “You sure have, honey. Say, maybe I’ll just come in, anyway, just to check, like. You armed by any chance?”

  Connor heard a grunt from out back and motioned to Gino, but the soldier just smiled then nodded his head at Molly. She stared back at him, wide-eyed.

  “Sure, I gotta gun. I gotta gun trained right on the door.”

  Now Dave did laugh. “Now you’ve upset me...but I didn’t catch your name.”

  “That’s cos I didn’t offer it, but if ya gotta know: it’s Molly.”

  “Molly, eh? Well, Molly, you’ve just gone n’ upset me real bad. I thought we had a bit of trust going on here. Y’see, I don’t think you’ve really got a gun at all. You could have, but I don’t think so.”

  With an almighty crack the door flew in, Connor shrinking down as Dave’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. “You going to shoot me, then, Molly?”

  Connor heard her footsteps behind him, moving closer to the door. “I kinda lied,” she drawled. “No, I ain’t got no gun.”

  “Nate?” Dave hollered. “You back there, Nate?” and Dave edged into the room.

  Gino was on him in a blink, the pump-action flying into the air. For a moment, the two grunted and growled in what seemed like an equal match. Connor jumped up, looking for an angle, but just then the big man gave out a great roar and managed to shove Gino away. He fell back and stumbled into Connor, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Gino was back on his feet in an instant, a blade now glinting in his hand as he crouched before the big man.

  Connor froze when he realized Dave had the shotgun back in his hands, its muzzle darting from one to the other of Gino, Connor and Molly. “Three of you, eh?” he drawled, and finally leveled the barrel over Gino’s head and at Connor. “You first,” and he stepped back. Connor raised his hands as he stared fixedly at the muzzle of the gun, his heart in his mouth. Then the room stilled for a moment, only Gino’s panting breath coming between them, and Connor saw why.

  “You don’t really wanna do that,” Gino rasped, “do you, Dave. It was Dave, wasn’t it?”

  Dave gave out a brief laugh and slowly lowered the gun a little, pointing it straight at Gino’s face. “Don’t I?” He smirked, but a hand then slipped around his face, snapping his head back as a knife appeared at his throat, swiftly drawn across it. Dave went limp, surprise in his eyes, and then he slumped forward, the pump-action falling with a clatter to the floor, going off with a loud bang. Wood splinters showered everywhere as Dave the biker fell face-forward onto the floor, Sticks standing over him from behind.

  “They’ll all have heard that. We best get moving,” Sticks shouted, and Byron and Kenny appeared from the bedroom.

  “Where’s the other…” Connor asked, but the look on Sticks’ face gave him his answer.

  Gino stepped over Dave’s body and patted Sticks on the shoulder as he went past. “Reckon we’ve got five minutes, ten max,” he said from out on the stoop. “Where’s the other fella’s gun?”

  “Out back,” Sticks told him as he went to get it. He soon dragged the other body inside through the back door before slamming it shut. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As Byron and Kenny dashed past Connor, he noticed Molly was still rooted to the spot, staring down the two body. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door. S
he pulled away, though, muttering something unintelligible before dashing back into the bedroom. Connor bolted after her. Pulling a couple of rucksacks from beside the bed, she turned to face him.

  “Found these and packed them up,” she said. “Had an odd feeling we’d need to get moving fast.”

  Connor grabbed one and slung it on his back as Molly did the same. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Doubt I’ll ever be,” she said, and they ran for the door.

  Headlights were coming along the lakeshore when Connor and Molly got outside, more following behind them. Sticks was now at the edge of the trees. “This way,” he shouted, and they ran after him as he vanished into the narrow strip of forest and up to the road above.

  Connor scrambled after Molly up the steep slope, Sticks behind them. The weight of the backpack bent him over, his fingers raking the earth as he grabbed for handholds. Molly then pulled herself onto the road and Connor could hear Gino urging her across. They both raced after him, a distant rumble at his back of bikes and men shouting and running as all three of them slipped back into the forest on the other side.

  It was almost pitch-black, just the moon and stars blinking in and out of sight through the canopy above. He heard someone stumble farther up, Kenny by the sound of the muffled curses which followed. Losing his own footing, Connor lurched forward, blindly reaching out to save himself a fall, but then the slope leveled a little and they’d soon quickened their pace. Molly was still ahead, forging on valiantly under the weight of her own backpack, the ground softer underfoot, spongy in places, which made his legs scream in pain from the exertion. Gasping for breath, he was about to shout for them to slow down when he thought of what lay behind. A quick glance that way revealed Sticks’ determined expression, the soldier’s eyes saying it all, and so Connor ran on the harder.

  Once deep within the forest, Molly slowed and Connor stopped running, but then noticed Gino waving him down the slope they were on and into a small hollow. Connor finally slumped down between Kenny and Byron. No one said a word until Sticks peered in. “Stay still and keep quiet. We’re gonna see if they’re following. I doubt they could’ve ridden their bikes into here, but, well, you never know.”

  His head snapped back into the shadows and he was gone, leaving Connor looking around at where they’d now ended up.

  “We all okay?” he eventually whispered.

  “Not really cut out for this,” complained Kenny.

  “Me either,” agreed Byron.

  “Not sure these country folks are so friendly, after all,” Molly muttered.

  “Beginning to wonder if that caged bird didn’t have it right, all along,” Byron sighed.

  They’d eventually trudged on and on. Though Sticks had reported no one was following them, they knew they had to put distance between themselves and the riders. “Only problem we’ve got,” he’d said, “is that we’ll all be going the same way. Bet you a credit to a corndog they’re going up the valley.”

  “So, we’ll just stay in the woods, then,” Kenny had said.

  “Don’t think you realize how small this valley has just got, big man, and they’ve got all the good stuff like the road and the river, like the bikes and the guns. Guess they knew that last night when they just let us go.” No one could find any reason to doubt him.

  They’d killed two of their men, after all, and the gang had only pursued them for a short distance. Now dawn was breaking over the ridge of the valley, they all knew it wouldn’t be long before the bikers caught up with them. Gino led them to a small, flat clearing, where they all slumped to the forest floor, exhausted. Sticks crouched in their middle.

  “Now, I’m going to lay a couple of things down. First, I doubt there’s a tracker among them; they’re few and far between up here. So, assumin’ that, they won’t know how many of us there are.” He drew a wavy line in the mud at his feet. “Valleys are easy, even for you city folk. There’s a river and there’s a slope. You can’t go too far wrong. Aldertown’s about ten miles upriver, the prepper’s compound a long stretch farther on.”

  “Where are you going with this, Sticks?” Byron asked.

  “You know where I’m going.”

  “No,” said Molly. “I said it before and I’ll say it again: we must stick together.”

  “Look, they’re gonna catch us easy. One way or another, we’re going to give ourselves away. Me and Gino need to hang back and try and make it as hard as possible for them. Croft ordered us to look after Connor, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Molly began to protest: “But—”

  “I know I’m probably being crazy,” Kenny blurted out, “but aren’t there two sides to this valley?”

  Sticks looked him up and down. “Two sides…separated by a river.”

  “Ah, right,” Kenny declared, “but if we could get across it, then it’d even things up.”

  “How?” asked Byron.

  “Because they wouldn’t be able to get their bikes across.”

  Sticks looked at Gino, who shrugged. “That’s true, provided it ain’t shallow enough anywhere along its course. Only trouble is, we can’t just walk along it till we find a spot.”

  “Sorry, knew I should have kept quiet,” and Kenny looked deflated.

  “What if we do, though?” Connor said. “What if we do just hug the river?”

  “Eh?” and Sticks flicked another look at Gino.

  “I got nothing,” the man said.

  “They followed us into these woods,” Connor went on to say. “Last thing they’d expect is for us to go back to the road.”

  “The strip of forest between the road and the river’s pretty narrow—less cover,” Sticks pointed out.

  “But their eyes will be the other way,” Gino muttered.

  “You’re considering it?” Byron asked.

  “It’s better than my plan,” Sticks admitted. “I was just going to get you to run on ahead and hope me ‘n Gino could hold ‘em back. Didn’t even give myself any odds of survival, let alone a long shot.”

  “Then let’s cross before they get here,” Kenny enthused.

  They were soon scrambling down toward the road, following Sticks’ direction which slanted them farther up the valley, but as they closed in on the road, Connor heard the throaty rumble of engines. Cautiously now, they inched nearer the edge of the road.

  “Gino, you and Molly first,” Sticks barked, and Gino leapt onto the tarmac, pulling Molly with him. When they were halfway across, Sticks shoved Kenny and Byron out. The rumble grew louder. “Go,” shouted Sticks at Connor and he leapt out and ran across the road, half expecting to get mown down or shot. Byron jump and vanished ahead of him, Kenny doing the same, and then Connor was at the far edge and saw the ground slope sharply down. He slipped and slid, digging his heels in, trying to get a grip. Gino reached out to grab him but couldn’t hold on, and Connor clattered into a tree, smashing his head against its rough back. He slid away from it and plunged farther down the bank, tumbling head over heels until he smashed into a boulder, his head snapping back against it. His vision was now grainy, his mind swimming as he fought to get his breath, winded, and he strained to see more than what was fast becoming just a long black tunnel before him. He felt like he was drowning again, slipping away.

  Then he felt a sense of lightness, one bringing with it a rush of clarity, but it wasn’t a strange feeling, not at all. He’d felt it before, and again he welcomed it. Sable was murmuring within him, flooding him with her essence, each tendril of her vitality pulling him back to her, steering him away from the darkness. “You saved my life,” he said to her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Am I still alive?”

  “Yes, Connor, you are.”

  “What’s to become of us?”

  “We must endure.”

  Connor snapped awake. Molly was hovering over him, looking down at him, her head cocked to one side as though considering a stranger. Sticks reach around her and grabbed his hands, pulli
ng him up. “Move,” he barked, and they carried on down the slope, Connor now more bemused than confused.

  They slowed their pace near the bottom, carefully picking their steps, eking out a safer and quieter path. Up above, the bikes rumbled past as Connor stumbled on, now feeling drowsy and strange, but he knew it was only his mind steadily healing him. Molly never let him go, her hand tight on his arm, and when they finally stopped for a break, she took him to one side.

  “What just happened back there?” she whispered.

  “I don’t follow,” Connor almost slurred.

  “Up there, when you fell.”

  “I banged my head… What?”

  “Never mind ‘banged’, you gouged it—a huge rip in your skin. Then…” She stared at him, wide-eyed, then took a trembling breath. “Then you just healed, right in front of my eyes. Your skin just grew over and stitched itself together.”

  “Sable,” Connor whispered.

  “I know,” but she didn’t release him from her stare. “What’s happening to you, Connor?”

  He grasped her shoulders and drew her nearer, then whispered, “I don’t know,” into her hair.

  But he did know, he knew that deep within him Sable was reaching out, that she was growing, maturing.

  “Is she a monster?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Think?”

  Connor looked beyond Molly and at the water of the river as it flowed past. “It’s the best I can… It’s all I know.”

  They’d not heard the bikes for more than an hour when Sticks finally let them slow their pace. He made them crouch down, though, when not much later a steady whine of what they assumed was a convoy of trucks went past, but other than that it seemed that Kenny’s knee-jerk plan had appeared to be working, so far.

  “We’ll see a crossing point soon, you’ll see,” he declared at one point, but no one believed him. The river here was narrow, deep and far too fast, its current treacherous. The narrow strip of trees between it and the road, however, did manage to conceal them from the road. Connor wondered what plan the bikers had, although he knew they’d have to stop and make camp before the end of the day. When he looked up at the sky, it was ominously clear, sucking the very heat from the ground.