New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

  Jax rubs his shin and glares daggers at me, but as if he’s heeding Tater’s words, he don’t say anything else. I guess we all know where he stood on that wise saying.

  We stay quiet for a bit, the gravity of our situation enveloping us like some cold fog. Then, with hesitation, I ask what’s in my head. “Do you think y’all could be wrong ‘bout me, Tater? I don’t think I’m no New Blood. I cain’t bring forth no power, no … Chi. Maybe y’all imagined what you thought you saw. Maybe I was just so angry, and that’s why I was so strong. Being red-hot mad can do that, you know. Grada used to say sometimes he was so mad he could chew nails. I think now I kind of know what he meant—”

  “As much as I know you do not wish to believe it, child, we all saw your incandescence,” Tater interrupts me with a half-smile, though I don’t believe he finds anything to be funny at all. “There is something special about you; that much is undeniable. I wish I could give you more answers, but I’m afraid I do not know much else about your … uniqueness. Stories of New Bloods, though once abundant, have since been delegated to whispers in the wind. No one dares say those words out loud for fear any of the Prezedant’s numerous spies will overhear and then have the Army drag them off for questioning, never to be seen again. You, my dear, are truly a rare commodity. The raider leader is quite right. You will indeed bring him a fortune.”

  “Aye, and our deaths along with it most likely,” says Jax with such cold hatred I cringe from his words.

  I want to lash out at him, to yell at him, to tell him he’s wrong, but his words scare me more than anything. If something happened to Finn … to Tater … hell, even to Jax ‘cause of me, I would never be able to forgive myself. Ever. I shake my head, the reality of our situation crashing in on me like some flash flood. How can any of this be happening? All I wanted to do was find Ben. I didn’t ask for any of this other stuff.

  I pull my knees up and lay my head on them, overwhelmed with hopelessness. I shut out the rest of ‘em and everything else around me. I don’t want to deal with it or with them. I cain’t deal with any of it. I just want to be back in Rivercross in my bed, listening to Grada snore and feeling safe.

  Maybe that’s where I really am, I think. Maybe I am in my bed and this ain’t all nuthin’ but a bad dream. Trying to convince myself that I’m truly dreaming, I bash my head on my knees—hard—in an attempt to wake myself up.

  Besides the shooting pain I feel in my head, I also hear Finn’s gasp of “Tara!” and I know it ain’t no dream. It’s real all right. All of it. And there ain’t no way out of it unless I create one. I’ve got to get us out of this mess.

  Shizen. The thought of me being the only hope of us getting out of here—well, it kinda makes me stomach sick. I cain’t even make corn biscuits right. How am I ever going to save the four of us from the Prezedant?

  I hope you were right, Grada, when you said that the gods will always provide, I think, ‘cause the way things are going right now, I need all the help I can get.

  Day four of our capture is almost done, and we still ain’t any closer to any mastermind escape plan from the raiders. All day walking in the merciless heat, my mind had been working overtime trying to come up with a plan. Any sort of plan, but I had nuthin’. None of us say a word as we’re tied and bound again for another long night, but our guards are barely out of earshot before Tater starts whispering urgently.

  “Bad news I’m afraid, my dears. I overheard the colossal leader speaking with one of his men earlier today. It looks like we have until possibly morning before the Army will be here to collect us. It has, as my dear mother would have said, come to the final countdown. We have but mere hours to make our escape. Have any of you managed to concoct an infallible plan to get us out of our current situation? Please, I encourage you to lay any ideas on the table for consideration.”

  Did Tater truly have to use so many words to ask if any of us has a plan? But as irritated as I am at him, I don’t say what I’m thinking ‘cause I don’t want to admit I’ve got diddly-squat. None of us speak. Finally, Jax breaks our silence.

  “Whatever we do, it will have to be soon before the Army gets here. If they get their hands on us, we’re done for. But there’s no way we’re going to be able to take out all these raiders unarmed; that’s for sure.”

  I snort quietly at his words and mutter, “Ya think?” but he chooses to ignore me. Instead he keeps talking to Tater.

  “Our best bet would be to wait until nightfall. Until most of them are asleep. I’m an expert shot. If I can get my hands on one of their weapons, we may stand a chance.”

  I nod my head. “Aye, that should work. Just grab one of their shooters. Oh wait, our hands and feet are tied, and we have guards watchin’ our every move. Got a backup plan, genius?”

  He don’t ignore me this time. “Yeah, we just let the Army take you. It’s only you they want anyways, freak. Make a deal for the rest of us, see if we can keep ourselves alive,” he glares at me. He ain’t whispering no more, and it catches our guard’s attention.

  “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

  “Oh nothing to concern yourself with, my good man.” Tater holds his tied hands up in a gesture of innocence. “It’s just that this young fellow is a little perturbed at being around a New Blood. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. It’s not as if we’re making escape plans or anything … Hah!” Tater’s nervous burst of laughter makes me roll my eyes and groan inwardly.

  Did he truly just say that? The guard eyes us suspiciously, pointing his iron shooter. He looks us over trying to notice anything amiss.

  “Yeah, well none of us are happy having this mutie around, but you don’t hear us all bellyaching about it. Keep it down. And don’t try anything funny. We’re watching you.”

  “Certainly, certainly, good sir. We will be as quiet as a mouse.” Tater grins at the guard and holds a finger to his lips to further his point. The guard gives us one last, hard look before he joins the rest of the raiders at the now roaring campfire. Busher is sitting cross-legged by the fire and watching us intently, so we hold off on any more talk. Once he is satisfied we’re behaving; however, he lets his attention be pulled away by the sudden appearance of a whiskey jug. Only then do we dare to continue our conversation.

  “Let’s get two things straight.” Tater jumps right back in. “If we stand any chance of escape, it has to be tonight. Jax is right; once we are under the Army’s watch, we will not stand a chance in hell. And if we are to escape, then you both must let go of your annoying idiosyncrasies.”

  “Idio … wha?” I start to say, but Tater cuts me off impatiently.

  “You have to stop fighting and work together. Got it?”

  “Well, why couldn’t you say that in the first place?” I hate how his way of talk always makes me feel so stupid. He ignores my biting remark and continues on.

  “Earlier when I pretended to stumble into one of the guards, I skillfully managed to relieve him of this.” One of his tied hands deftly pulls a small dagger down out of his sleeve for a quick perusal before it disappears again. I’m impressed. I’d seen Tater fall into the guard earlier, and it had earned him a hard punch to the back. I had no idea there’d been another motive for his contrived clumsiness.

  “Ask and ye shall receive,” he says to Jax, grinning from ear to ear. “Now, as you said a moment ago, we wait until most of them are asleep. These past two nights, I’ve noticed our guards have been taking forty winks at their post. Obviously with Tara’s lack of any show of power, they have become a little lax about our threat assessment. We wait until they are asleep tonight, I cut our bindings, and we make a run for it.”

  I look to Tater, expecting to hear more, but he don’t say anything else. Jax and Finn look just as expectant, waiting for Tater to go on.

  “That’s it? That’s the plan?” Jax asks finally, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

  “Yes, that’s it. I said I had a plan. I didn’t say it was a good one. Do any of you have a bett
er idea?” Tater asks. “I free us; we run. What else do you expect? As you most astutely pointed out, we cannot go up against so many armed raiders.”

  He’s right. “Sounds good enough to me,” I say. “Finn, you make sure you stick to me like a shadow. I don’t wanna lose you in the dark.” He nods at me in agreement.

  “If we get split up, head east into the hills. That will keep you onto the path to Littlepass.”

  A loud whooping from the group ‘round the campfire interrupts Tater and he clams up, but they ain’t paying no heed to us. The whiskey jug is being passed around freely, and they’re celebrating like they already got their reward. Busher catches my eye and raises the jug to me in a mock toast before taking a big swig of the brew.

  I hope he chokes, I think, but it don’t happen. I drop my eyes and look toward the horizon. Not much longer ‘til sunset, I reckon. Tonight will be our only chance. Tater’s plan is sound … sorta … but since it’s the only plan we have, we’d better make the best of it. For some reason, I have this sinking feeling it just isn’t good enough. I’m hoping I’m dead wrong.

  The first inkling we get that something ain’t right is when Hat Head, back to being his cocky self again now that he’s been swigging the whiskey, wobbles our way. He brushes past Tater and Finn to stand directly in front of me. I get to my feet. I don’t like having to look up at him, and I ain’t sure what he’s about to do. He stares at me, swaying back and forth like he downed the whole jug of whiskey himself. There ain’t no way he drank enough to be this wasted, I think.

  “You don’t look like no freak,” he says, least I think that’s what he says. His words are all slurred like his tongue is too big for his mouth. He wobbles a bit more and then points his finger at me.

  “Ya … nawe … bood …”

  Huh? What the hell is wrong with him?

  Then suddenly, his eyes roll back in his head and he falls with a loud thud, face first into the ground. I jump back. Shizen. What’s happening? Before I can get a word out though, I hear another thud, then another. The raiders. They’re falling like leaves in a big wind, one after another.

  Busher is the last to be standing. He’s wobbling just like Hat Head did, but he’s fighting it. He lets out an angry roar, and he kicks the whiskey jug over. His eyes, so full of hot anger, seek me out. He looks like a mountain bearing down on me, and I cain’t help but back away as far as the rope will allow. But he don’t get to me. He falls to his knees before he can get more than four paces. Trying in vain to push himself back up, he gives me one more burning look before he also face plants the ground—hard.

  “What the gods …?” Tater is looking at me, but I’m just as dumbfounded. I shake my head at his unspoken question. It ain’t me. I don’t have no idea what’s happening.

  I look around at all the raiders on the ground lying where they fell. Are they dead? I think. Finn’s panicked, “Tara!” pulls my attention away from the bodies on the ground, and I follow his fearful gaze to a figure approaching us from the trees. It’s walking kind of hunched and shuffling, but I recognize it right away. The creature I’d seen that night in the sand lands and again in the valley on the other side of the mountains. I was right. It had been following us.

  It comes closer, and I get a better look at its face. Shizen. What the hell is it? It resembles something more out of a night terror than a human face. Its yellowed flesh hangs in loose folds ‘round its neck, and the skin on its odd-shaped head not covered by tufts of hair is dotted with visible veins. There ain’t much nose to speak of, just a bump with two holes where a nose should have been and a fleshy mouth that looks too wide for the face it’s on. I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat, and I find myself searching the ground, looking for anything that I can use as a weapon. Finn cowers against me, and I hold him close as it approaches. I can hear Tater muttering something, prayers maybe, and Jax starts tugging at his ropes, cussin’ under his breath. Tied and bound, there ain’t nuthin’ we can do but watch helplessly as it shuffles closer.

  The muttering gets louder, and I almost yell at Tater to shut up when I realize the sound ain’t coming from him. In fact, Tater don’t look worried at all. The muttering is coming from the critter. Its mouth is moving all odd-like, like it ain’t used to forming words, but that’s exactly what it’s doing. It’s talking. Good gods … it’s talking! As much as it terrifies me, I find myself straining to hear what it’s saying.

  “Mus … ove … mus ove …”

  I don’t understand, but it keeps shuffling towards me like its words are meant for me and me alone. It comes straight for me, and I’m shocked to see its eyes. As strange and wrong as the rest of it is, its eyes are so human-like. It grabs my wrist with a skeletal hand, and the contact sends a tingling up my arm. The dark eyes bore into mine with such fear I shiver. I cain’t help it.

  “Mus … ove!” It speaks with more force this time, and suddenly I understand.

  “Move. We must move.” I say. It nods in relief, I think. My fear eases some at the realization that the creature ain’t trying to harm us, but help us.

  “Men … come.” Its long finger points to the trees.

  “There are more men coming?” I ask, and it nods again. Tater looks at me in concern.

  “The Army,” he says, and the creature confirms.

  “Ess … yes … Must go.”

  Tater don’t hesitate. The little blade suddenly appears, and he starts sawing at his bindings. The creature is also prepared. It pulls a wicked-looking blade from the sash ‘round its waist and starts at my ropes. The smell of it so close to me is overwhelming, but I just hold my breath and let it continue sawing my ropes and then Finn’s. As soon as we are free, I reach for Hat Head still lying at my feet, pull the shooter out from underneath him and hook it over my shoulder. Tater by now has freed Jax and they get the same idea, grabbing the nearest weapons they can find. Tater even takes the time to scoop up his hat even though the creature is making frantic movements with his hands, trying to hurry us. But there’s still something I need to know.

  “The raiders.” I point at the bodies on the ground. “I’m guessing you did this. Are they dead?”

  “No … dead … sleep. Po no kill.”

  “Po?” I say, not knowing what the critter means by this.

  It points at itself and says again, “Po … no kill.”

  “Is that your name? Po?”

  It nods a yes, and I find myself amazed that the creature … that he (I assume it’s a he) had the smarts enough to carry out such a plan. Somehow, it had figured out a way to put a sleeping herb or such in the raiders’ whiskey. It must have been waiting for its chance for days to do so. Why though? Why was it helping us? I don’t get the chance to ask. Tater, hat now planted firmly back on his head, interrupts my line of questioning.

  “I hate to interfere with your getting acquainted and all, but as the mutie so accurately pointed out earlier, we must move.”

  I realize the cause of his growing concern as I hear the dull thumping coming from the ground below us. Horses—a lot of them—and they are coming fast. The Army is here.

  “This way,” Jax makes a beeline for the closest grove of trees, and we hightail it behind him. We hear shouting and then popping sounds. Iron shooters. Did they see us already? But then we hear more shouting, and I remember the scouts Busher had planted around the campsite. They ain’t had a chance to drink the whiskey. They’re still awake. And from the shouting we’re overhearing, the Army ain’t greeting them none too friendly-like. So much for honor amongst thieves or such. I grab Finn by the front of his tunic and drag him faster, trying to get into the cover of the trees. I don’t want to be in view when they reach the campsite.

  Stumbling into the trees, I look ‘round wildly, fearing either raiders or Army to be waiting for us, but we’re alone. Tater bends over with his hands on his knees and wheezes loudly.

  “Tater?” I say, worried, but he just waves a hand at me and keeps gasping.

&n
bsp; “I’m okay,” he manages to croak, but Jax grunts with impatience.

  “We don’t got time for this, old man.” He ignores my glare and paces around. Finally, he jerks a hand over his shoulder.

  “This way,” he says, but Po puts a restraining hand on his arm much to his obvious disgust.

  “No,” the creature says and points with his bony finger. “There.”

  Nestled away in the trees are Winnie and Busher’s much larger horse, grazing contentedly, unaware of the trouble around them.

  “Faster,” Po says, and I nod in agreement.

  “Po’s right. Finn, you and Tater on Winnie. You two ain’t so heavy; she should be able to carry you both easily. Jax, you, me, and Po on the other beast if we can.”

  As I speak, I head for the two animals and quickly untie them from the trees. We help Finn and Tater onto Winnie’s back before I climb onto Busher’s beast and take the reins. Thankfully the horse doesn’t resist. Jax leaps nimbly behind me, but the mutie don’t move.

  “Po, come on!” I urge. The shouting is getting louder now, and I know they’ve found the campsite and the other raiders. The creature shakes his head and says, “Go.”

  I ignore Jax’s muttered, “You don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s move.”

  “No, he helped us; we ain’t leaving him,” I hiss at Jax.

  But the creature shakes his head. “You go. Po will hide. They look for girl … they no find Po.”

  “You heard him. They no find Po,” Jax hisses back, but the creature is done debating. He smacks the horse’s rump, and we bolt off without warning. I struggle with the reins, but finally I get the horse under control and I glance back over my shoulder. Finn and Tater are riding directly alongside us, but Po is as good as his word. He ain’t nowhere to be seen. What I do see; however, is much more frightening. Emerging from the grove of trees we just cleared is a line of riders, all on big, black, powerful-looking beasts.