Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel

by Linda Andrews

  "But, since this is my land, you follow my rules. No questions."

  "Fair enough." She shrugged. Besides, she'd memorized most of them anyway. "It's chicken stew, for dinner."

  She handed him a wipe to clean off the blood then the warm food pouch. Steam escaped when she unrolled the top.

  He accepted both without touching her. Before she could pull her army knife and its complement of eating utensils from her pocket, he had raised the pouch to his lips and drunk.

  So much for sharing. Pushing her hair out of the way, she checked the watch’s readout——the stun-gun had a blown resistor. It was always the same with these old weapons. Separating the soldering iron from her eye liner, she selected the right resistor.

  Harlan smacked his lips. "It's good. Like the bar better, though. This one won't hold you for long, let alone me."

  "It has dessert with it." She held the hot tip against the solder, melting it so she could pluck the bad wire free.

  "Dessert?

  "In the bag." A cold gust snaked down her back and her hands shook as she placed the new resistor.

  He set the pouch against her thigh.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched him fiddle with her spare shirt. "In the bag. It's a rectangle marked spice cake."

  Sitting, he draped her shirt around her neck.

  Heat soaked into her skin, radiated up her head and rolled down her back. "What?"

  "No point in your heating pad thingy going to waste." Without another word, he scooped up her pack.

  She blinked. O—kay. That was unexpected. She finished soldering.

  He held his tongue between his teeth while scanning the words on the package. On the third rectangle, he winked at her then returned all but it to her pack. "You need to eat your dinner before dessert."

  Clearing the watch, she reinitiated a scan and picked up the food pouch. He hadn't hogged it all. Shrugging, she raised it to her lips and drank. Bits of carrots and potatoes dissolved when they touched her tongue. Juice dribbled down her chin. Her parents would be shocked.

  It was oddly liberating.

  Thumping the bottom, she caught a lump of chicken and chewed.

  He grinned at her and ripped another bite from the cake. "I like this better than the bar thing."

  "That's because it's dessert." Duh. She carefully rolled up the pouch and blotted at her sticky chin. "What can you tell me about how the 'Viders attack?"

  "They don't. Not at first." He licked the crumbs from his lips. "They pick off the people in the farms on the outside of the village."

  That made sense. They would use those people to gain information on the opposition they faced.

  "Just the people, not the animals. So it takes time to notice something's wrong."

  "They first move at night, right?" To avoid detection.

  He shook his head. "Nope. Daylight. Anyone who sees them is snatched, too."

  "Daylight?" Damn. It wouldn't do to underestimate a force so brazen. "Are they well armed?"

  "Knives, swords, clubs and farming implements. They're very...creative with farming implements." Paling, he swallowed and carefully covered the remaining half of the cake before offering it to her.

  Creative. Her hand shook when she accepted the dessert. She'd seen accidents involving farming machinery. You didn't have to be creative to inflict serious carnage. "So all hand-to-hand combat weapons. Any long distance ones?"

  "Today was the first time I'd seen a 'Vider use an arrow."

  Sera looked down at the cake——dark like the boy's blood in the dirt. Carefully sealing the dessert, she returned it to her pack. "What about spears? Slings?"

  Outlanders had them when they arrived in the Burbs, surely the 'Viders did too.

  Harlan stared into the dark desert. His eyes lost focus as he lost himself in another time and place. "Spears are saved for the grand finale, same with slingshots."

  Low tech, like everyone else. But if the 'Viders were armed with TSG-17s things would quickly shift in their favor. "What about in between? You said spears are saved for the grand finale. So what do they use to grab people after they've cleared the outliers?"

  "They swarm in, screaming and yelling. All the village leaders are hunted and killed immediately. Their heads are mounted on spears and planted on the outside of town. Then the 'Viders declare the town theirs and begin demanding tribute."

  "Tribute." The 'Vider in the woods had called her that before Harlan had shot him. She checked the watch's display. The stun-gun was working. Removing the clips, she began sealing it up. "You mean like gold or animals?"

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. "People. They only want people."

  "To work their farms, as slaves?"

  His eyes locked with hers. "I think they eat them."

  Her jaw dropped open. He couldn't have just said... No. No. It was too horrible to consider. People just didn't do that. Not even in the Outlands.

  "It's the only thing that makes sense. The 'Viders are travelers. They don't live in one place, but are constantly moving about. You can't move that many prisoners without losing one or two." He flopped onto his back. "And I've never found one. But I've found bones. Lots of them, picked clean, too."

  And animals wouldn't explain it. There weren't that many predators left on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Her stomach cramped. She tasted her dinner again. Oh my God. His answer made sense. Get a grip, Sera. There could be another reason.

  A hundred other reasons.

  One thing was damn sure, she couldn't go back to Dark Hope without proof. If she didn't get it, the cabinet would laugh off her request. And Harlan would be left alone to fight.

  She flicked the safety off. The stun-gun hummed to life under her palms.

  "What's that do?"

  “It shoots a charge that short-circuits someone’s nervous system and incapacitates them.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Aiming at a shrub, she pulled the trigger. The projectile smashed against the trunk, and blue light crackled around it before falling dark.

  Harlan wrinkled his nose. “And that’s supposed to take a man down.”

  “It does. It can also kill them.”

  He folded his arms and lay down. “Think I’ll pass on the two outta three matches with that.”

  Sera carefully stowed all her equipment then stretched out beside him.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and spooned her. “For survival.”

  He’d need more than two more tries to convince her of that. Still, she covered her nose in his blankets when the wind kicked up. At least she was warm. Forcing her breathing to even out, she closed her eyes.

  “There’s just one thing, Peaches. We Outlanders like to keep things even.”

  “I know.” She scrunched down further in the blankets. They were even. He’d taken her down twice; now she had returned the favor.

  “Since you pointed out that you tripped and knocked your own self out that first time, by my counting you’re one ahead. I’ll have to fix that.”

  Her eyes popped open. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 18

  Scratching her lip, Marshall hid her smile behind her hand. This was so much better than she could have planned. War. On her first full day as Head Provider and with North advocating it, no less. Each advising juror had set their weapons on the table, condoning the action.

  No one had abstained.

  North stormed around the tent, shoving chairs out of his way and pausing every so often to pound on the table. Weapons jumped from the impact. “We need to hunt these Raiders down and be done with them, once and for all.”

  Marshall’s chair creaked as she shifted on it. If she had known killing his two sons would have this effect, she might have done it sooner.

  Around the rectangular table, the six member jury nodded. Pierce, an old ‘Vider of forty-four winters, cleared his throat. “We should not have let the raids go this long.” He fingered the patch of blond human hair over his missing left ey
e. “Already, the tribute whisper words of rescue.”

  “They will learn their proper place after the Lesson.” Marshall folded her hands in front of her. The Lesson, her first to be taught to the tribute, had been postponed for this meeting. Fatigue filled her eyes with grit and she blinked to clear it.

  The four men and two women glanced at North.

  Damn them. She was Head Provider. The jury should look to her, try to curry her favor, not North’s. As much as she could use him in the battle to come, she must eliminate him. Perhaps she could use his anger to ‘help’ him make a fatal mistake.

  North threw his folding chair against the tent wall. “The Lesson doesn’t kill the hope. Only time and repeated teachings do that. Last offering, we had four tributes attempt to escape.”

  She licked her lips. “Yes, that was quite entertaining.”

  Titan cracked his knuckles. “I’m willing to teach the shared tribute.”

  North hurled his knife at his cousin before smashing his fist into his nose. “That was a waste of good food. Half of the meat spoiled.”

  Jumping back, Titan lapped at the blood trickling from his fat lip and glared at his cousin through blackened eyes. He resumed his place by the door.

  The six other ‘Viders at the table nodded. Her advising jury was firmly behind North.

  That would have to change. Marshall’s nails dug into her palms. “The waste of food is deplorable, yes. But since my sire set us on this Northern course, our pantry has never been empty. This is the land of plenty, just as he promised those who chose to follow him during the divide.”

  The two female jurors nodded. The one on the right shrugged, baring the scars on her shoulder. “While the food is abundant, our numbers are growing smaller.”

  Heat flashed through Marshall. Her throat tightened until neither air nor words could squeeze through. That was the real reason the jury favored North over her. He had sired six children out of one pathetic tribute, while she, the rightful heir to the ‘Viders, had yet to produce one.

  “And we’ve lost two yesterday.” As one, the jurors glared at Titan.

  The ‘Vider shrunk into himself. The weakling preferred to face tribute over his own kind. He caught her eye, flashed her a warning.

  As did she. If the jury decided to hand Titan over to North, he would rat her out before an hour passed. They all knew she collected raiders’ arrows as keepsakes. Cold fear swept away the burning rage. One or two she might be able to kill, but not all of them.

  And not a healthy North.

  She would not lose the position she’d worked so hard to gain. Licking the sweat beading her upper lip, she cleared her throat. As for ‘Vider Brolyn’s comment, perhaps the woman’s words could be turned in Marshall’s favor. “We know that the first round of tributes are always a poor lot.”

  “Sickly,” ‘Vider Brolyn agreed. “Not much good for even eating.”

  “Yet, we chose from this lot.” Marshall swept her attention over each of them before landing on ‘Vider Stake. The black tattoos on his head were tipped with red. A nice touch, but a symbol of his weakness toward his tribute. One who should have been slaughtered long before the jury demanded the female be used as a lesson. “And sometimes we keep them alive longer than necessary. We waste food and water upon them when they are not even good breeding stock.”

  White tipped Stake’s knuckles.

  The fool hadn’t even taken a new tribute to his bed. It was such weakness that was destroying their kind. “I propose we make a new ruling. If the females do not become pregnant within the first year, they are to be discarded.”

  “Many are doing so already.” Brolyn agreed.

  “And still we are barren.” Marshall smiled at the woman. “It may be time for the females to take a mate among the Chosen.”

  “No!” Stake pounded on the table. “When blood ‘Viders mate, the off-spring is rabid. Those mad progeny lead the Chosen astray. Many always die.”

  The male jurors nodded.

  Only the men. Perhaps this was their way to insure the female ‘Viders never achieved the same level as they. It would explain why females who chose the Warrior way rarely produced children. Could it be they actually wanted weak females in their beds?

  Only Titan shook his head.

  Marshall straightened. “Given the lack of fertile female tributes, perhaps they should be shared, once they produce a worthy child.”

  Titan cut a glance at North.

  North’s jaw clenched.

  “No.” Stake crossed his arms over his chest. “Property is property, not to be shared unless the owner decides.”

  The jurors nodded. “The rights of ownership must be respected.”

  North stalked back to the table, braced both hands on the surface and leaned forward. “Perhaps our Head Provider should focus on planning our war against the raiders, instead of trying to undo five generations of guidance.”

  Embarrassment blazed in Marshall’s cheeks. She would find a way to kill him slowly. And when he was weak and helpless before her, she would tell him exactly what would happen to his precious Mirabelle. Not even ‘Vider code would protect that bitch. Marshall swallowed the bile surging up her throat. “You are correct, ‘Vider North. We must make war preparations.”

  Brolyn consulted with the woman on her left. “With the murder of North’s children so close to camp, we must relocate immediately.”

  Stake opened his arms, gesturing toward the ridge beyond their camp. “In the open as we are, the enemy could attack from many directions.”

  “There was smoke in the air yesterday. It might be a new village.” Titan clasped his hands behind his back.

  Marshall glared at him. He was not supposed to speak to the jury, unless specifically asked. “Tribute villages are easily overrun.”

  Instead of agreeing with her, the six jurors turned to North.

  Son of a bitch. He needed to die. They all needed to die. Damn the old ways and their stupid safeguards. If she was to save her people, she needed the power to make changes, without waiting for a consensus.

  North stroked the stubble on his chin. The bastard enjoyed the power, her power. “While tributes are no match for the blessings the Great Spanner has given us, their buildings are able to stop the flight of a raider’s arrow. Living in such shelters will mean fewer ‘Viders need remain behind to guard our young ones.”

  Brolyn smoothed her hair shirt. “I shall take a scouting party to find this new village and plan our attack.”

  Stake set his sword on the table. “We will not be able to cull the fringes of the herd this time. Is the Jury giving permission to waste food?”

  Men and women exchanged glances. Wasting food was never to be taken lightly. Despite Marshall’s earlier boasting, there had been perilous times, when she thought they might never find another crop of tributes. The jurors stared at North, waiting for an answer.

  He stared at her.

  The bastard. If she gave permission and it ended badly, he would have reason to strip her of her position. And if she refused to make a decision, he would strip her of her position. “Do what you must to minimize spoilage. A cut across the back of the heel wouldn’t kill the tributes, just immobilize them."

  “But the needs of our people must come first. The Great Spanner is watching.”

  Gathering their weapons, the two women and Stake strode across the tent.

  Titan held the flap open as they marched through.

  North righted his chair and planted it near the table. “I will track the Raiders to their camp.”

  Perfect. She would have him alone during the journey. All she needed was bait for the trap. And he had provided it. “I——”

  “Why bother?” ‘Vider Pierce twirled his knife in his hand. “We know the raiders traveled to Abaddon.”

  Marshall’s heels drummed on the dirt floor. Abaddon. After so many years, the village was within her grasp. If Mother told the truth, there would be food for many, many years to come and pl
enty of breeders for all.

  “The mayor has betrayed your father, Head Provider.” ‘Vider Pierce scraped the gray hair off his knuckles. “He promised to deliver the raiders to us. Instead, our innocent warriors were murdered.”

  Spilling ‘Vider blood required a ten-fold payback. She smiled. “North and I will travel to the village.”

  His eyes narrowed. “For the raiders, or the mayor?”

  “Both.” She might even allow him to kill a few raiders before eliminating him. Of course, he would never find the one that murdered his sons. She’d only reveal Titan’s actions right before North drew his last breath.

  Her special gift to him.

  North jerked his head once, picked his axe off the table and headed for the door. “I shall be ready to leave within the hour.”

  It was time he learned he wasn’t in charge; she was. “Are you sure you wish to go so soon?”

  He paused, raising his axe to his cousin’s throat. “Are you saying I am not capable of avenging my sons?”

  Titan paled, when North pressed the blade to his skin and drew blood.

  The other three jurors kept their hands off their weapons. They would not intervene. ‘Vider code forbade it. Titan had been the boys’ guardian, charged with watching over them on their maiden hunt. Since they died, the warrior way allowed him to suffer the same fate at the hands of their sire.

  She rather liked that rule. Marshall drummed her fingers on the table. North had plenty of opportunity to kill his cousin. But had refrained, time and time again. She doubted he would do so now, doubted he’d do so from the beginning. Not with the raiders blamed for the deed. “Your tribute is weak.”

  North smeared Titan’s blood on the axe’s blade. “Mirabelle is a ‘Vider now.”

  The jurors nodded.

  Fools. Tributes were weak. They should never dishonor the Great Spanner by being allowed to become a ‘Vider. “Nattie broke after her ascension, after the loss of her sons.”

  After the death of her ‘Vider.

  The bitch Mirabelle wasn’t half as strong a Nattie and would break long before Marshall could toss North’s body at her feet. Everyone heard her sobbing through the night. It was just a matter of time before she broke. Then her children would be unprotected.