It was vast, bigger than anything I’d ever imagined, spread far into the landscape. Would probably take days to go around, days we cain’t afford to lose. As amazed as I am at the sight in front of me, I understand what has Tater so concerned. Out here in the open lands, you can at least see the dangers approaching, but in there, in the midst of all those ruins, dangers could be hidden anywhere. Critters, raiders, anything could be waiting for us. But we ain’t come this far to stop now. And we ain’t wasting any more time. We’re going through.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I nudge my horse but don’t get far before Tater calls after me.
“Tara, think about this. Trust me; I am just as eager to reach Littlepass as you are, my dear, maybe even more so, but this is foolhardy. We have no idea what to expect in there. I have avoided areas like this my whole life. These dead cities are aptly named for a reason,” he says.
“Maybe Tater is right,” Finn joins in hesitantly. “Maybe we should go around—”
“No, Finn, we ain’t goin’ around,” I snap at the boy, and I can feel him stiffen behind my back. “I ain’t goin’ around; I’m goin’ through. We’ve wasted enough time already. The longer I take to get to Littlepass, the colder Ben’s trail becomes. You and Tater can do what you want … I won’t stop you. But let me remind you; you both hitched yourself onto me and slowed me down, so now this is my decision. I’m goin’ through. It’s just a bunch of stupid empty ruins. So make your choice. You can go your separate ways or stay with me but decide now.”
Finn don’t say nuthin’, but the scrawny arms that encircle my waist give me his answer. Squashing down the guilt I feel at snapping at him, I nudge the horse again and start moving. I don’t look back to see if Tater is following, but the incessant muttering and grumbling I hear behind me makes me fully aware of his presence and his feelings about the whole idea. So be it.
We reach the city by late afternoon. It had been a bit of a struggle to get the animals up over the riverbank, but the gods had been on our side and we had stumbled onto a slope leading out of the dry riverbed. Whether it had been the wind or other travelers who had made it, only the gods knew, but it had come in real handy.
The road we’ve been traveling carries on through the city, overgrown and full of deep craters but still passable. We’re going to have to be careful with the animals though. Cain’t risk having one of them stepping in a hole and breaking its leg. We will have to lead them through.
The rusted remains of the sky towers line both sides of the road, looming above us like menacing overseers. They are mostly destroyed, just bare bones left really, but it makes me wonder what could have brought down such massive structures. Was it the great war like in the old folks’ tales or just the passing of time? And what happened to all the people that had lived here? Sickness? War? Critters? Drought? Were they all lying here, rotted away under our feet, or had they been forced to move on? Reckon we’ll never know, but I cain’t help but speculate.
We can see shapes and mounds where some of the buildings had crumbled away ages ago and over the years had been covered by the sand and grass and earth. Once majestic structures now nuthin’ more than rubble under our feet, their secrets long hidden by the passing of time. It was kinda sad, really.
Numerous other roads branch off from the one we’re on and weave through the rusted bones, dark and spooky-looking, but there ain’t no way in hell we’re going to stray from the main road and travel those. We’re going to try and stick to the open the best we can. It seems the safest bet.
There’s no sound in here other than the sighing of the wind and our own breathing. Cat slinks along beside us, her head twisting in the breeze, catching scents of things we cain’t—and possibly don’t—want to know about. The quiet is nerve-rattling, and I find my hand hovering over the butt of my shooter. I know it ain’t nuthin’ but my imagination, but I cain’t help but feel we’re being watched. Like at this very moment there are countless eyes watching our passage through the dead city. Maybe it’s just the ghosts of the settlers long gone, but even that thought don’t make me feel any better. At least a critter or a mutie you could bring down with an iron shooter.
A loud shrieking from my right scares me something fierce, and the shooter is in my hand before I recall moving. I duck instinctively as a black cloud sails past my head and disappears down into one of the paths to the other side of us. My heart is thumping frantically in my chest, but I’m real glad the scream on my lips don’t come out ‘cause I feel real foolish now seeing as it’s just a bunch of crows. Our intruding on their territory must have scared them off. Cat takes chase after the birds, but I don’t bother to call her back. I know she won’t go far. I look up at Finn, who’s still riding the nag, and grin at him. He grins back, though I can tell from his eyes his fright had been just as bad as mine. It’s good to see his smile ‘cause it tells me he’s forgiven me for yelling at him earlier. It eases some of my guilt. Tater is holding a hand to his chest, not bothering to hide his fright, his face pale and ashen.
“Oh, dear me, that was rather disconcerting. But as my dear mother would say, “Fright makes the wolfling appear bigger than he is.’ Truer words were never spoken.”
I’ve come to realize that Tater tended to prattle on the more scared he was. Hope we don’t come across no more crows; we don’t need to hear no more “wise sayings.”
I grab the nag’s reins and give her nose a reassuring rub as she snorts nervously. The crows had startled her, too. These iron bones have put us all on edge. Hope it don’t take us too long to get through. I give a slight tug to get her moving again, but we don’t get more than two paces when a howling from the path Cat had run down pierces the air and roots us all in place.
“Cat!” Finn yells, and just like the boy, I can tell her wailing is one of pain. In the blink of an eye he’s down off the horse, and I grab him by the scruff of his tunic before he can run. I know what he’s thinking. He struggles against me, but I hand him over to Tater.
“Stay here. The both of you. Tater, make sure he don’t follow me.” I say.
I pull my shooter again and head in the direction the wailing is coming from, ignoring the words the boy is hurling at my back. From the sounds of it, Tater had heeded me and is physically containing the boy, and he don’t like it one bit. But I cain’t be worrying about Finn trailing me. Something has Cat howling, and it probably isn’t anything good.
The path between the building husks is dark and narrow. I hesitate and try to adjust to the dim light. I peer into the dark, but all I can see is dirt mounds and empty road. No sign of Cat. I’m going to have to go in deeper. Taking a few deep breaths to steady myself, I step into the darkness, my shooter firmly gripped in my hand.
I make my way between the crumbling relics, looking ‘round swiftly, making sure nuthin’ is trying to sneak up on me. I don’t hear Cat no more, but I can still hear Finn’s yelling. The boy is going to wake the dead with his fool shoutin’. Slowly I creep through, pausing every few steps to look ‘round. Nuthin’. I make my way to the corner where another road crosses the one I’m on. It’s like a maze, I think. Roads and tracks everywhere. I peer ‘round the corner, steeling myself for attack. All I find is Cat, lying on her stomach. She looks like she’s gnawing on something, but I cain’t see.
“Cat,” I whisper loudly and she looks back at me, a miserable mewling comes out of her. Slowly I approach, still waiting for something to jump out at me. Finding it clear, I hunch over her and push her big head out of the way. Her front paw is caught in some sort of steel snare. A trap. There’s blood on her fur, and I can tell the teeth of the trap have sunk in good. I pray there ain’t too much damage done to her paw.
“It’s okay … it’s okay girl,” I keep whispering to her, rubbing her panting side and studying the thing. At first, I don’t notice the fresh bird carcass lying just past her head and the rope tying it to the trap. But at seeing it, my blood runs cold. This was no random accident. Someone had laid
this trap deliberately and recently. That meant we are not the only souls in amongst these iron bones. This realization hits me at the same time as the silence. Finn ain’t yelling no more. The dead quiet scares me more than anything, and I bolt upright.
“I’m sorry, Cat,” I whisper urgently. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
It’s like she understands my fear for the boy, and she licks my hand giving me permission to leave her. I high tail it back the way I’d come, berating myself for falling for their ploy. Whoever had done this had split us up on purpose, and I’d fallen for it like a fool. Fearing for what I will find, I emerge onto the main road, and my fears are painfully justified. I take it all in in an instant. There are two of them waiting for my return and another two holding Finn and Tater, both of them pressing wicked-looking knives to my companions’ throats to keep them from yelling out a warning. But I don’t fall into their hands as easily as they would like. At the sight of the iron shooter rock steady in my hand and pointing straight at their chests, they bring up short and we eyeball each other for a bit.
I cain’t quite tell if they’re men or muties. The one closest to me is wearing a filthy, red wrapper tied ‘round his head, and the ends hang down his back like a braid. Tiny, white bones dangle from holes in his ears, and what appears to be an actual small skull hangs ‘round his neck. His tunic and trousers are a filthy patchwork of different colors and cloths like he had sewn together the remnants of others’ clothing. There are reddish, crusted sores covering his face and arms, some of them open and festering, running with pus. He smiles at me then, and I can see his blackened gums and rotted teeth. He could be twenty, thirty, or fifty born years. I cain’t tell. But the blade he holds in his hand could probably rip me open from belly to breastbone in a flash; I can tell that much.
“Well, whadda we got ‘ere? A lovely little ducky … wot? Look at the ducky, Beanie. Ain’t she a lovely ducky?” he calls over his shoulder.
“Aye, Talbert. A lovely ducky … lovely ducky,” the other answers in a singsong tone and then starts howling with laughter like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said. That laughter echoes with madness and adds to my growing fear. Dangerous I can handle, but crazy is a whole other story.
I gulp hard a couple of times, trying to swallow the huge lump blocking my throat.
“Let my companions go,” I say finally, finding my voice. I’m amazed it only cracks slightly. “And I promise not to shoot you.”
The one called Talbert takes an exaggerated step back from me and looks ‘round in wonder.
“Wot? Ya ‘ear that, Beanie? She ain’t gonna shoot us if we let the others go. I think the ducky is threatenin’ us, Beanie. Wot you think?”
“Aye, sounds like a threat to me alright, Talbert,” he says and snickers some more like he cain’t even help himself.
My fear threatens to overtake me, but I push it down. I cain’t afford to show them any fear. Finn and Tater’s lives probably depend on my actions right now; I’m going to have to play this smart.
“I am only gonna say this once more. Let us go. You can have some of our supplies. But let all three of us pass without harm, and I will let you live,” I say.
The Talbert creature grins at me again and rubs his thumb along the sharp edge of his blade. I don’t know if the cut is on purpose or not, but he don’t show no flicker of pain. He merely puts the bleeding thumb to his mouth and licks away the blood, never taking his eyes off me for a second.
“The ducky does ‘ave a big shooter fer certain. Could even be a threat to us, Beanie. Wot’s to stop us from killin’ the two yonder then the ducky an’ takin’ everthing fer ourselves, eh?”
“What’s to stop us?” Beanie echoes then puts a fist to his mouth to stop his maniacal laughter.
I shrug my shoulders at him, keeping the rock-hard lump of fear in my gut hidden.
“I suppose you could kill those two,” I say.
I hear Tater’s indignant, “Here now!” but I don’t look his way.
“And between the four of you, you may be able to take me down but not before I can put a slug between your eyes and blow your ugly head from your shoulders. You wanna take that chance … Talbert?”
I pray he don’t heed my bluff. My insides are shaking something fierce and feels like I’m gonna retch any second, but my hand holding the shooter don’t waver, not a bit. He studies me for a moment, assessing how much of a threat I may be. Then his grave face turns to cackling laughter, making him sound just as crazy as the other one.
“She’s a lively ducky, wot, Beanie? Lotta spirit. I like that. I do. Tell ya wot, ducky. Me an’ Bean ‘ere, we’s reasonable chaps. We’ll make ya a trade, we will. We’ll let ya pass. Aye, we will. Just give us yer supplies an’ yer nags, an’ ya can go on yer merry way. No trouble, no fuss. Ya won’t ‘ave to worry about us.”
Beanie’s high-pitched howl makes me jump some, and I tense for him to attack, but he is just laughing uncontrollably and whacking himself in the head.
“No fuss … no worrying ‘bout us. Yer a poet you is, Talbert. A poet!” he says, wheezing between whacks.
Shizen. How much more crazy can I take? I shake my head no, hoping they don’t notice the sweat beading my forehead.
“You can take the horse and two bags of supplies. We keep the mule and the water skins, and the two of you get to keep your heads,” I say, hoping my threat is as forceful as I mean it to be. The Talbert one tosses his knife a couple of times, thinking hard and ignoring his companion’s impatient, “Tell her, Talbert … tell her!”
The silence seems to stretch on. No sound comes from Finn or Tater, but I don’t dare look to see if they’re okay. I get the feeling one moment of inattention is all Talbert would need to pounce on me.
“You drive a ‘ard bargain, ducky. Tell ya wot. I’ll let ya keep the mule, but in exchange, ya leave us the boyo. You see, Beanie ‘ere … well, he likes the young’uns, an ‘e ain’t ‘ad a playmate fer quite some time now. ‘E may look full grown, but ‘e ain’t quite grown in the ‘ead. Know wot I mean?”
I hear Finn’s gasp at the offer before Beanie’s howling laughter drowns him out. Just knowing the boy is so scared starts the anger flowing. How dare these lowlifes, these horrible wretches, try and barter for Finn! The evilness of the situation, of these creatures, it surrounds us like a dark cloud … smothering, suffocating. I suddenly understand again what Grada and the old folk of Rivercross had tried to do: protect us from this all-consuming evil that seemed to cover the lands on this side of the mountains. How did creatures like this standing in front of me come to be? What had made them this way? And how dare they even suggest I leave Finn in their vile hands? There ain’t no way in hell that’s going to happen.
The coldness of the iron shooter in my hand that used to scare me comforts me now, like it’s a part of me. I realize we ain’t going to come to no agreement. This is a game to them. They’re playing with me, and it’s going to end badly. I raise the shooter so that it’s aimed straight for Talbert’s head, confident I will not miss when the time comes.
“Bargainin’ is over, mule turd. This is how it’s gonna be. You let my companions go right now, and you walk away with nuthin’ but your lives, and that’s bein’ damn generous on my part.”
All traces of humor disappear from their faces now at knowing I’m onto them. I didn’t think it possible, but the sneer on the creature’s black lips makes his face even uglier. But it’s his eyes that scare me more so. They’re no more human than the wolflings or other creatures we had chased off these past few days. They’re no different. They are predators, and we are their prey. Only I ain’t going down without a fight.
Then the Talbert one winks at me cheekily, all smiles again, distracting me from the wicked blade he’s holding out in front of his chest in a fighting stance.
“‘Ave it yer way, ducky, but choose wisely. You gonna save the boy? The old man? Or yerself? Ya cain’t get us all. Yer shooter cain’t—”
“Er … Talbert …,” Beanie interrupts, but the other man ignores him and goes right on talking.
“My men, they’re gonna kill yer companions the minute ya move at—”
“Talbert!” Beanie says again, and I watch in astonishment as the ugly creature drops his knife and turns to him, totally disregarding me.
“Really, Beanie? Wot is so important that you ‘ave to interrupt me eh? Wot? Cain’t ya see I ‘ave business with the ducky ‘ere? Wot ‘ave I told ya ‘bout interruptin’ me, eh?”
Beanie looks terrified at Talbert’s outburst, but he points tentatively with one of his purplish fingers, and we both turn to look in the intended direction. I’m totally shocked to see Talbert’s men now kneeling down on the ground, Finn and Tater holding their own knives on them. But that ain’t all we see. Talbert finds himself looking down the barrel of another shooter, only this one is held steadily by none other than Jax.
What the hell is Jax doing here?
“If I were you, freak show, I’d take the girl up on her offer and walk away with your lives ‘cause it’s a damn better offer than you’ll get from me.”
Unlike me, Talbert don’t show any sign of surprise at Jax’s unexpected presence. He merely looks from Jax, to me then back to Jax and then, surprisingly, gives a little bow and puts his knife back into his sheath. He smiles at us like he never just threatened our lives.
“Looks like I ‘ave been outsmarted, now, ‘aven’t I? But we’re not simple chaps, are we, Beanie? We know when the jig is up an’ when to walk away. Come along, boys. Our little adventure is over.”
The two on the ground don’t need to be told twice. They scramble to their feet and scurry away like rats to disappear amongst the dark ruins. Talbert, however, takes his time, ambling away from us and whistling cheerfully into the wind. He don’t even bother to look back at us, not the least bit concerned we might just shoot him in the back. Beanie follows, but he ain’t so casual. He don’t take his eyes off of us, still laughing like a maniac ‘til they, too, disappear into the darkness of the rusted bones. We stand there for a bit, the four of us, sweeping the area, making sure they ain’t gonna double back on us and try to attack again. I don’t even notice I’m holding my breath ‘til it comes out in one big sigh of relief. It’s over.
New Bloods Boxset Page 18
