by T. K. Malone
“Why?”
“Morrow was partial to beating his women—I should know, patched enough of them up.”
“Didn’t Briscoe stop it?”
Kelly dabbed a wetted cloth over Teah’s chest. “Mighty bruised up. Say, Spike do all of this?”
“Had me a warm up between Morrow and Spike.”
“Follow you, does it? Fightin’.”
“Lately,” Teah admitted. “Why didn’t Spike stop Morrow?”
“Beating his women? Most men got a blind eye to that sort of thing. Unless they’re cute of the girl themselves. No, Morrow only chose the loners, the vulnerable.”
“Like you?”
Kelly shrugged. “I ain’t vulnerable, but yeah, why’d you think I live up here—had enough of ‘em all.”
“Grizzly fought hard,” Teah muttered, remembering their tussle.
“He would’ve. Was a nice lad afore he fell in with Morrow. Tellin’ you, you ain’t gonna be short on female friends here, you being the woman who ended their pain.”
“Then why were some of them screaming for me to dance at the end ‘o that rope last night?”
Kelly laughed. “You looked at yourself lately? You’re badass but you’re stunning, and you’re unwanted competition. But now you’re here, count on a few accepting you real quick.” She looked down at Teah’s side. “This one’s gonna need stitches. It ain’t bleeding much but it sure ain’t gonna mend, either—no matter how quick you heal. You okay or you need some whiskey?”
“Thought we was having coffee.”
“Choose.”
Teah smiled. “Whiskey it is,” and she winced when the needle went in. “Hey, thought I’d get the whiskey first.”
Kelly held up her hand. “Steady there. Two more…one …and there,” and she looked up. “Whiskey’ll taste finer now it’s over. Take your jeans and that off. I’ll go dunk ‘em in the stream out back. Here,” and Kelly threw the shirt at her. “Course, that’s only if yer fixing to stay tonight. Tell me, Jake got a hard-on for you?” and she disappeared back into the other room. “Seems like he has.”
“Nah, he thinks he needs to look out for me, that’s all. Thinks he’s Lester.”
“Lester Avery Savage. Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in an age.” She poked her head around the door. “Throw me those… Second thoughts,” and she gathered Teah’s clothes up herself. “Back in a bit. Whiskey’s on the side out here.”
Teah pulled the long shirt down and got up. She ambled through the doorway and found herself in a ramshackle kitchen, a counter to one side and a table on the other, door to the outside opposite. She could see Kelly bent over a stream not far from the back door.
“You don’t have to do that,” she called out.
“No, I don’t,” Kelly called back as she continued thrashing Teah’s clothes against a rock. “Don’t have to do bugger all for you, but I owed Lester a few favors, and he ain’t in a position to get them back. Plus, I owe you for Morrow—though you robbed me of the cold delight of seeing him suffer. S’pose I’da danced fer it, though. But, mostly Lester.”
Teah wandered out and sat by her. “I miss him. He was a bastard was Lester, but damn, I do miss him.”
Kelly carried on scrubbing at Teah’s jeans. “Amen to that. Must have been something to the government, that man. A mighty fish. Never known someone, or anyone fer that matter, who could just come and go between Black City ‘n out here, not as and when they wished.”
“As and when?”
“Whenever he wanted,” and she held Teah’s jeans up. “That’s most of the blood, guts and grime out. I’ll make us a fire and get ‘em all dried. You go grab the whiskeys. Best bet, Wallace’ll start cooking up in an hour. I’d get some of that liquor down you first. Thinks he’s a great cook, but I tell you: tastes like wet wolverine turd.”
Teah grabbed the bottle on her way through the kitchen.
“So, what d’ya think killed him?” Teah asked, sitting on the sofa.
Kelly dumped herself down next to Teah, a large whiskey glass in her hand. “Weren’t the mine, I know that,” and she nodded at the whiskey bottle.
“What?” Teah said as she filled Kelly’s glass
“Silly old bastard said it was, but I know it weren’t. He was guarding that mine, sure, but not for folks’ health—not for that reason. He said it had done him in just to put folk off, and it worked. Nope, he was there to stop folk finding something.”
“Like what?”
Kelly shrugged. “Beats me; I ain’t going looking.”
“Why not?”
She scoffed. “’Case I’m wrong.” Kelly took a slug on her drink and lit a smoke. “But I’m not. Lester got whatever ailed him in the wastelands which surround Black City. Got it the same time Jenny did.”
“You knew Jenny?”
“Sure. Not everyone’s like you, Teah. I hear you’re quite the antisocial bitch.”
She knew she couldn’t argue with that, so she poured another whiskey. “When the closest thing to someone you can trust rolls joints fer a livin’, there ain't a lot of worth in being social. ‘Sides, you live up here.”
Kelly grunted. “Never said I was a party and puke type. Maybe we’re peas in a pod—you think about that?”
Teah raised her glass. “Maybe.”
“So, if Jake ain’t got a hard-on for you, someone must have. You might be a bitch, but you’re a damn fine one. Briscoe?”
“Fucked my tit ‘n ribs up.”
“Never was one for a gentle run-up, not our Spike. I heard they got your son—the army—heard that last night.”
“Yep,” said Teah, tears of frustration brimming at just the mention of his name. “And it don’t look like there’s a damn thing I can do about it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”
20
Teah’s Story
Strike time: plus 6 days
Location: Ridge Overlooking Sendro Verde
“You sure can sink ‘em,” Max said, between gasps of breath.
“Sure can feel ‘em, too,” Teah replied, taking a break, her hand gently caressing her ribs, her head pounding. She looked around the valley, the view clear to see now they’d left the cover of the redwoods.
They were lagging behind the others, the trail rising much steeper here, the cabins probably only a few hundred yards away but easily just as far down. The trail led through rock outcrops, skeletal trees and hardy brush.
“I just ain’t the right shape for trekking up hills, let alone this,” Max muttered. “Say, I heard folk used to do this fer fun, way back when.”
“Really?” but Teah couldn’t really see it herself.
“Yeah, big ole beasts ‘n all. Like them over there,” and he pointed to some distant snowcapped peaks, now rearing up over the ridge opposite.
“Crazy,” Teah gasped.
“It’s the cold and heat I can’t figure.”
Teah knew exactly what he meant. It was too cold to rid herself of Lester’s coat, but the early morning sun was pounding hotly down on her back. It had been an easy night—her first for a while. The hooch had been sharp on her throat to start with, but the whiskey had given it a good cushion on which to land. Wallace’s cooking had been as disgusting as Kelly had warned. Spike had been quiet, often in whispered conversation with Jake. “Aloof” was the word, she thought, aloof like a leader who was carrying some unshared burden. Jake’s boiled-egg eyes had often flitted toward Teah, and now she wondered if she’d been one of the topics of their conversation.
Looking up at the ridge above them, she noticed Briscoe was forging ahead toward a cut in the rock, what she assumed to be the pass. Kelly was nowhere to be seen, having left before dawn, and Wallace and Jake were trailing Briscoe, but not by much. She took a deep breath.
“Freshener?” Max asked, offering her his hip flask.
“Hooch?”
“I’m strictly Mr. Average here. No trades for whiskey, so yeah, hooch. Distill it myself,” and he
grinned.
Teah unslung her rifle and took another breath. “Well, the fresh air ain’t helping, so why not?” She took the flask and a long slug. “So, Mr. Average, what are you doing here? Seems some select group.”
He laughed, a deep belly laugh. “Don’t flatter yerself. Here, food is king, maintenance and defense second. A farmer’s more important than anything, ‘specially now.” He grunted. “Though I imagine food’s cheap out there at the minute—lots of consumers having vanished into thin air,” and again he laughed.
“So, seeing as I’m new, just what do you do ‘round here?”
“Me?” His black, wiry eyebrows arched. “I’m in competition with Kelly, though she beats me hands down. We both trap and fish this ridge—my cabin’s the other side. I said I wasn’t built for trekking, but I can show you the lazy way to trap anything. So you see, I’m not that special.”
“How comes you ain’t in better shape—if you don’t mind me askin’”
He stared at her for a moment, then averted his gaze. “Oh, I’m in good enough shape, but don’t normally choose to climb a mountain after a night on the hooch. Plus, I drew the short straw.”
“The short straw?”
He grunted. “Someone had to wait fer you.”
He ambled off up the slope, a hunting rifle over one shoulder, a machine gun slung over the other. He wasn’t struggling, not in the slightest. She pushed herself after him, the hooch taming her raging head.
Clay: was that why she was so out of sorts this morning? Kelly’s thoughts on his rescue had been, at the very least, headed in the right direction. She’d said Teah had been mixing with men too much. According to her, men could only think one way about anything. Whether it was fighting, demolishing, hunting, or loving, they came at it from the same angle, brute force and the fastest, hardest way to get what they wanted. Teah had laughed at that, but Kelly hadn’t joined in. Her expression had become even more serious. She’d said by hanging around with them, Teah’d lost the ability to think sideways. When Teah asked her what she meant, Kelly had just said only a fool would try and rob a bank by attacking it—same went for the army—but the true thief could steal anything without anyone knowing.
And that had got Teah thinking.
It made her realize she’d never even thought about rescuing Clay on her own. In fairness, both Ned and Trip had urged her not to take on the army, and she’d gone along with their advice—just thinking about the firepower issues was enough. Jake had also made it seem like a one-way street, but Kelly had left Teah to think it through on her own, and now she wondered if a smaller force wasn’t the answer.
“Max!” she shouted, and quickened her climb to catch up to him.
As she drew beside him, she felt the air thicken, and Max grabbed her shoulder, yanking her off the trail just as a shot rang out. He fell beside her, pushing her farther into the brush.
“Shit,” he growled. “That one was aimed at Briscoe. Damn fool’s left himself exposed—that’s the problem with kings.”
“Shit,” Teah muttered. “Kings?”
Max unslung his rifle. “You a good shot?”
“At hunting, yes.”
“Same thing. Kings always think themselves invincible. Shit.”
Teah scanned the ridge. Two jutting rocks caught her interest, between which the trail led and where Briscoe had just been about to pass through—
Another shot rang out, this one from a different direction.
“Snipers?” Teah asked.
“That one was Kelly. One shot: she won’t have wasted that. You okay to run?”
“Yeah.”
“See that outcrop over there—the big one—and that dark, craggy line?”
“Yeah.”
“One of ‘em’s in there—if Kelly’s bullet’s left him alive. Soon as I aim thataway, you go forward, then find some cover you can fire from. Aim at that crack and keep firing till I’m alongside you. Got it?”
“Yeah,” and Max began firing.
Teah sprang up and dashed forward, bent over, rifle in hand.
More shots rang out, echoing around the valley. Teah zigzagged and saw some boulders, soon skidding in behind one, and on which she rested her rifle before letting loose some rounds of her own at the crack.
“Go now!” Max shouted, already crashing in beside her, rifle raised. Teah set off into a sudden hail of bullets, surprising her so much she hardly felt her arm being ripped backward as adrenalin fueled her on. An outcrop of rock gave her her next cover, and she dropped to the ground behind their shield, rifle raised and pointing around its edge as she shouted, “Go!” and began firing.
There was movement on the ridge which drew her aim, then Max fell in beside her and she took her shot.
“Not bad,” Max muttered, his back against the rock as the zip of close-passing bullets told them Teah had missed.
“Shit; didn’t get him,” she spat.
“Nope, but you made him real mad.” Then a short burst of fire rang out, followed by a dull thud and the sound of undergrowth slowing the fall of something man-sized. “You didn’t, but sounds like Kelly did.”
“How’d you know?”
“Heard that rifle shootin’ near every day fer years. I know.”
“Then we’re good?”
Max huffed. “If there was only one of them.”
“Briscoe?”
“I don’t know what his rifle sounds like, now do I?” and he grunted a laugh.
“Max?” Jake’s voice hissed out.
“Here.”
Teah held her breath, wondering when the next shot would come and from where. A shuffling noise grew louder, then Jake’s head emerged from the brush beside them. He rolled against Teah. “How many you got?” he asked Max.
“Not a clue. One less than there was, that’s fer sure.”
“Yep,” Jake muttered, “about all I got, too. Wallace is dead, bullet ripped his head clean off…well, a good chunk of it. Some shot to miss his fat ass.”
“Briscoe?”
“Ain’t moved that I can see.”
Max grunted again. “Then we best go and look. Who’s first?”
“Newest usually goes first,” Jake said, and they both looked at Teah.
“Really?” she said, but they kept looking.
Teah counted to ten, slowly. She sprang from their cover and bolted up to where she reckoned Briscoe had fallen, but before she’d gone five paces, the bullets came. They pinged past her, slamming hard into the ground, ricocheting off rocks and thudding into the trunks of the scrawny trees which clung to the sides of the pass. Her calves screamed merry hell at the steep incline, then her ribs joined in. In a mad panic, she gritted her teeth and forged forward. Yet more bullets whistled past her head, she zigzagged up the climb, frantically searching for cover. Then, with an almighty tug, her snagged coat pulled her to a dead stop and she threw herself to the ground, quickly scrambling into the nearest undergrowth. More shots peppered the earth around her like fat balls of hail, then two now familiar sounding shots rang out—Kelly’s—and all fell silent again.
She heard Max and Jake following up behind her, and as no more guns sounded out, she jumped up and ran on. It was only a few paces before she bounded over Wallace’s body—well, the major part of it—and spotted Briscoe. She was soon at his side, the bloom of blood staining his white T-shirt, but then bullets started flying again. She threw herself past him and asked, “You dead?” When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his arms and dragged him a few feet into some thick brush.
Briscoe jolted, his hand shooting to his side. “Seems like the bullets,” he muttered close to her ear, “got mighty close once you decided to rescue me,” then he winced in pain.
“You were playin’ dead?”
“I was avoiding getting shot some more…that was until you came along.”
Jake skidded in beside them. “You alive, Spike?”
“Yeah, just. Who in hell is it? Can’t be the cons, surely. And it ain’t the
bikers’ style.”
“Where’s Max?” Teah asked Jake.
“Skirting around; trying to help Kelly.”
Teah risked a peek though the foliage. “I’m gonna crawl forward—there’s cover about twenty yards up. I might be able to get a fix from there,” and before they could say anything, she was out and crawling up the slope. She could now recognize Kelly’s rifle firing and gritted her teeth, waiting for their unseen enemy’s bullets to come her way, but everything stayed silent around her.
“All clear!” came Kelly’s call, echoing around the valley, and Teah slumped down on the ground and rummaged in her coat, pulling out a pack of smokes. Lighting one, she took a deep breath, then her eyes were drawn to her sleeve. “Dammit,” she muttered, seeing a bullet hole. “Sorry, Lester,” she said, looking up at the heavens, then noticed another in the coattails. Jake was coming toward her, as bold as brass, and Teah wondered if she’d ever be so trusting.
“You okay?” he said. “Not got a spare one, have you? Mine are as flat as Black City.”
“Sure,” and she offered him one. “How’s Briscoe?”
“Bleeding out.”
“Saves you killin’ him.”
Jake lit his smoke. “Sure does,” he said, offering her a hand up.
They continued the climb to the ridge, Teah asking Jake, “So, why did you want him dead?”
“Never said I wanted him dead, just said I was gonna kill him.”
She stopped and stepped out her smoke. “That don’t make any sense.”
Jake laughed. “You know, you don’t even sound like a gridder now. Too much time out here.”
“Kelly reckons a few of us could rescue Clay.”
“She’s probably right—she normally is—but you gotta have the right team.”
Trip and Kelly emerged above them from between some sheer rocks Teah and Jake were drawing near to. Teah gasped. Trip was covered from head to foot in blood—or at least it looked like that. He had a hunting knife in one hand.
“Seems Trip’s better at close quarters,” Jake muttered as Max followed the other two out.
