Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel

by Linda Andrews

  Although, it seemed life was pretty good in Abaddon. Perhaps, he and Sammy could settle here. He'd be prime stock for the breeding program.

  Tino rose a little off the bench and pointed straight ahead. "That's it. That shiny building there."

  Lee blinked. Amazing! He could see the metal ribs as the building climbed four levels into the blue sky.

  The mid-day sun formed a golden ball on the glass and sent yellow fingers along the huge panes. The words “Johnson's Medical Clinic” raced across a black bar between the first and second level. Men in white pantsuits stood under a metal awning stretching over the sidewalk. Each wore armbands with a red serpent climbing a golden staff.

  Pulling the wagon alongside the curb, Lee mentally tallied his gold horde. Several pounds worth acquired over the years in a bag. Several more pounds hidden in cubbyholes in their belongings and wagon. Still...

  The white-suited men raced toward the wagon when he stopped. After looking at him and Tino over, they focused on the two in the back.

  With a building this fancy, Lee hoped he could afford a few pain pills. He might have to rob several richly dressed folks to give Sammy the surgery. But she would get it, as God was his witness. Jumping down, he tied the mule to a wrought iron hitching post and looked around. No one seemed to be eyeing his mule.

  A sleek black carriage jingled by. The matching two horses put his mangy creature to shame.

  Two women in blue suits rushed out, both pushed beds on wheels.

  Three of the men had focused on Quinn, sticking white squares onto his chest and face. They held books in their hands that blazed with red numbers and words that constantly changed like the sign above. Black fly-sized blobs dangled in front of their mouths, fixed to a wire leading to another bean-shape stuffed in their ears.

  The woman stopped by Quinn and picked up his wrist. She speared Tino with a glare. "What happened this time?"

  Tino held up his hands. "We were attacked by raiders. They killed four other men and Thurman."

  Her mouth thinned to a slash mark when she removed the bandage on Quinn's thigh. "Well, you stopped the bleeding, but there'll be scars. Lots of scars. What about patient two?"

  Sammy whimpered when another man smoothed a white pad on her bruised arm. "I know it hurts, sweetheart. But this will help us make you better."

  The second woman in blue climbed into the cart. Shaking her head, she pulled the blankets away from Sammy's swollen belly. "Advanced leukemia. Swollen spleen." She tapped the bean in her ear. "Broad spectrum antibiotics and find a place for her on the earliest transport."

  The man smiled at Lee's granddaughter. "We need to get your friend out of the wagon, do you think you can climb down first?"

  Sammy bit her lip and stared at Lee.

  "Of course, she can." He held out his hands to her. "She's strong."

  The woman in the wagon carefully helped Sammy to rise while the other man bailed over the side.

  Sammy wobbled a few steps then Lee grabbed her and lifted her onto the bed. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she pulled her legs close to her body.

  "Oh, what a pretty dolly." The woman picked up the nearly bald doll and his late wife's quilt. "We can't leave her behind. She might get lonely."

  Sammy opened and closed her hands. "Please."

  The woman jumped down from the wagon and set the doll on the bed. "Here you go, sweetie." Smoothing aside his granddaughter's matted hair, she leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I think she was a little scared."

  Sammy nodded. Blood beaded on her bottom lip.

  Behind them, four men and Tino helped transfer Quinn to the second bed. The injured man moaned but didn't wake. Two more folks in blue dashed out of the building. Each carried a bag of water, a tiny hose and paper bands.

  The woman tending Sammy draped the quilt over her then pulled a book out of her side pocket. "My name is Julia, can you tell me yours?"

  "Samantha."

  Lee stepped aside as the first man pushed the bed up a ramp onto the sidewalk.

  Julia's fingers tapped on the red letters on the book. "I knew a girl as pretty as you would have a pretty name." She nodded to the newcomer. "This is James. He's gonna give you a very classy white bracelet, then we're going to give you medicine to help you feel better, okay?"

  Sammy nodded as James wrapped a white band around her bony wrist.

  "That didn't hurt, did it?" Julia's attention shifted from book to the arm band them back.

  "No." Sammy plucked at the bracelet, ran her hand along the black bars decorating it. "Pretty."

  James tugged on the bed's headboard and pulled out a metal pole with a hook. After hanging up the bag of water, he traced the hose to the end and pulled off a red cap. A shiny needle glinted in the sunshine.

  Julia ran a cloth over the outside of Sammy's wrist. "This might sting just a little, okay?"

  What the hell? Lee stepped forward. No one was going to torture his grandbaby.

  Someone fisted his shirt, holding him back.

  Lee swung a punch as he turned, missed when the man ducked.

  "It's an IV." The man in white stepped back, out of reach. "It'll deliver the medicine to her without going through her stomach. So she'll get better."

  Stupid fool. Hadn't that idiot Tino said they could do that? Lee scraped a hand down his face. This world was so unlike his own. How was he to know when they were helping or hurting his granddaughter?

  The man in white gazed over his shoulder. "Sir, you may wish to relocate your wagon to the rear of the building. We have staff to take care of your mule and guard your possessions."

  Guard them? Lee glanced across the street. A man in a green suit stood on the corner watching them.

  "We'll take good care of Samantha."

  James pushed Samantha's bed toward the building, Julia trotted alongside talking to Samantha about fixing the doll's hair. Quinn, Tino and their team were just disappearing inside.

  Lee swayed. He didn't care about the mule or their provisions, but there was gold inside that wagon. Gold mattered. It might make the difference between Sammy getting the help she needed or being set out on the street.

  He needed that gold.

  Lee stepped toward the wagon.

  "Just one more thing." The man in white flashed the cover of the book. "If you could touch the screen, you'll be registered as Sammy's father."

  "I'm her grandfather." He pressed his fingers on the black screen. It was hard and no lights lit up. Maybe it was broken.

  "Grandfather. I'll see that it's corrected in the system." The man handed him a black and white bracelet like Sammy's. "Just put this on so we know you have family in the hospital. I'll meet you at the rear entrance."

  Fisting the strip, Lee walked to his mule's head. Bracelets and books. The Bard never wrote about such strangeness. "Round back you say?"

  "Yes, just follow the building. You can't miss it."

  He looked at the bench seat then the corner. Screw it. He'd walk. "Come on, mule."

  From the corner of his eye, he watched the man in green keep pace on the other side of the street. Why were the guards following him? He'd done nothing wrong. Hell, he'd even given them four of his prized eggs.

  Just as Lee reached the corner, the guard stepped off the curb.

  Something hard slammed into Lee's head. Well shit, he'd been conned. Another blow, and the curtain came down.

  Chapter 21

  Left. Right. Left. Sera placed one foot in front of the other. Her toes were numb. Her heels burned and her arches just hadn't fallen, they'd become convex. She glared at the man at her side. Harlan the horrible, the hideous, the heinous. He was deliberately leading them on a circuitous route around the city all because she whooped his ass twice.

  She smiled, boxed up the pain.

  It had been worth it. The look on his face——dust in his hair, spitting mud and sporting the makings of a black eye.

  Yep, she'd just walk behind him and not complain.
/>   But she wouldn't be silent for much longer. Her questions bothered him. Apparently, he wasn't used to getting his posterior handed to him, let alone someone second-guessing the Tao of Harlan the Hard ass.

  Bright eyes peered out of darkened rooms into the alley where Sera walked. Sewage ran in open sewers to a leach field far from the river. Women roasted rats over small cooking fires. Nearly naked children played in the street.

  The poverty, the stink, the privation and degradation could be solved. Why didn't they accept Dark Hope's help? Was pride worth the risk of disease? The needless deaths in childbirth? The high infant mortality rate? Sure, the human race had made a bit of a comeback in the last hundred years, but they were far from a comfortable level. More people died in a single day during the height of the Redaction than currently lived on the whole planet.

  She shivered.

  Harlan paused by a fork in the road and fiddled with his pack. "Can you swim?"

  Through a gap in the listing homes, she saw the sparkle of sunshine on water. He didn't fool her. She knew he was checking on the two men following them. "I can."

  "Good." He grabbed her shoulders, yanked her against him, then slanted his mouth against hers.

  What in the world? She blinked until he came into focus. The fathead was staring down the street at their followers. Her pulse quickened. If they were going to be partners, they really needed to set some boundaries. Still, if acting all amorous gave them a little space from their stalkers...

  He retreated just enough to speak. "Make a little effort here, Peaches."

  Effort. He wanted effort. Sera hooked her hand through his belt and dragged him between the shanties. "You know, if those guys are voyeurs, your light bulb just popped."

  As soon as he cleared the tent, he cupped her elbow and spun her around. "My light bulb doesn't pop unless I want it to."

  Jeez, what got his panties in a twist? "Light bulb as in brilliant idea. Popped as it doesn't work."

  "Yeah. Yeah. Do you think you could just speak American until we get to Dark Hope headquarters?"

  Sera clamped her lips together. She would not feel bad because she had an extensive vocabulary. She wouldn't. Although, they were partners of a sort. And he'd agreed to talk to the cabinet about the 'Vider threat.

  Sera stopped at the river's edge, bent over, and tugged on her boot laces. The water would feel great on her feet. She'd wash off the grit. Maybe refill her canteen.

  "Shit!" Harlan clutched his head between his hands.

  "What?" She checked behind them. Their shadows hadn't appeared.

  Huffing, he pointed across the river. "The wall is blocked up."

  She followed his line of sight. Fresh mortar appeared between the cracks of boulders of the eight-foot tall fence. "I thought the wall was continuous around Abaddon."

  "It wasn't when I left to rescue the tribute." He pinched his bottom lip and glared at the obstacle.

  She shrugged off her pack. "My compact has enough explosives to blow it back down. But that would draw attention." She dismissed the idea and picked up her bag. Someone on the other side might get hurt. Or it might be traced back to Dark Hope. Not good. "Is there another way in?"

  A pebble pinged against a metal wall.

  Their shadows were voyeurs after all.

  "No." Taking her hand, he dragged her to a patch of grass near the river.

  "Will the guards at the gate take bribes?"

  He snorted and shook off his pack. "They'll take everything you own, then they'll sell you to a Breeder house." His gaze narrowed as he skimmed down her body. "You'd be a helluva prize. The right guard might even keep you, put his babies in your belly."

  "I don't think so." She unhooked her TSG-17. It hummed in her hands as it charged. Breeders, her aunt Fanny. She’d see them dead first.

  Shaking his head, he toed off his shoes. "You're right. One word from you, and they'd turn you over to a proper house. There are those with a reputation for discipline, and a clientele who enjoys it."

  "Eww." She faced the corner and took aim. First one around the corner gets tagged. "Sometimes I can't believe we're not two different species."

  He pushed her weapon down. "Rule number one of the Outlands, don't reveal all your surprises at once. And always start simple."

  "That's two rules."

  "They're related." He pried a board from the wall and thumped it against his palm.

  She set the safety, but didn't power down. "Rule three: Always have a back-up plan."

  "That's usually rule one." He tossed his pack on the ground, then arranged his shoes so the worn soles stuck out of the grass.

  "I'm seriously beginning to question your ability to count."

  "Rule one is, don't be so hung up on the rule's number so you can't adapt."

  Good rule, even if it did give her a headache. "Point taken. Now where do you want me?"

  "Here." He pointed to the area between his pack and empty shoes. "And take off your top."

  Sera dropped to the ground, set her stun-gun by her knee and reached for her zipper. Wait one hairy minute. The kiss was understandable, but her shirt?

  "These guys can't think when their little head is engaged." He peered around the corner of the house. "Hurry."

  She unzipped her shirt and jerked it off. Sometimes, being a woman sucked.

  Harlan snapped her bra as he passed.

  She yelped as the elastic hit her skin. "Hey! It's a front closure, you Luddite."

  "This, too. Gotta think they're getting a show."

  Unhooking the front, she caught the cups before they sprang apart. "You can leave now."

  Nodding, he jogged to the other side of the house. "Oh and don't forget to make those pleasure sounds women make. I've got a reputation to uphold."

  Heat flared across her skin. She should have just shot the bastards and been done with it. Next time they needed a distraction, he'd be the one with his assets hanging out. Once she was sure he was gone, she released the cups. Silk skimmed down her arms when she shrugged off the straps.

  A whisper of movement sounded behind her.

  Right. Pleasure sounds. She shook her head, felt the play of her hair across her bare back and moaned. "Ooh, Harry."

  Her fingers slipped over the cold metal of her TSG-17 and her ears strained. Where was Harlan? Why hadn't she heard the thump of wood against bone?

  Arching her back, she ran her free hand through her hair. "Ooh, that feels so good."

  She rose a little and her thighs quivered from carrying her weight.

  God she felt like an idiot! He better hurry it up.

  "Yeah, right there." She turned her head slightly. Nobody there. Were they taking turns peeking around the corner? "That's it. Harder now."

  "Christ, you're bossy even in the sack."

  Whipping around, Sera raised the gun and fired.

  Harlan dove for the ground.

  The charge landed with a thump and scorched wood.

  Grinning, he rolled onto his elbow. "Given the view, it might just be worth it."

  "You——You juvenile." She jammed her arms into her sleeves and yanked the zipper up to her neck. "A little professionalism isn't too much to ask, is it?" Leaping to her feet, she scooped up her pack. Her bra lay on the ground and she kicked it to the side. "Did they even come close to spying on us? Or was it all a ploy to get your rocks off."

  Hooking his thumb on his waistband, he gathered his belongings then stepped into his shoes. "See for yourself."

  She couldn't help it. She stared at his button fly. A tiny spark of feminine satisfaction zinged through her. He definitely enjoyed it.

  Knotting his laces, he grinned up at her. "I meant the body behind you."

  "I knew that." Slipping on her backpack, she spun on her heel.

  The man stared unseeing at the sky. His mouth hung slightly open and a red ribbon cut across his neck. A wicked knife lay in his palm. Obviously, he planned a little more than coitus interruptus for them.

  "He's
dead." And she'd heard nothing above a whisper. Harlan was obviously skilled despite his lack of formal training.

  "Rule one: Never let them hear you coming."

  Him and his rules. "Should we dispose of him?"

  "Nah, the locals will take what they need and dump him someplace he won’t be found." Tucking his hands in his pockets, he led her back into the slums. They passed the second man lying in the gutter, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. A garrote next to his body.

  Maybe she hadn't bested him last night. Maybe he let her win. But why? Her stomach knotted. No, surely not. Just because he'd been in the desert last night, didn't mean he was there to collect the weapons.

  And she’d stupidly spouted off about being from Dark Hope at the first opportunity. If she made any more newbie mistakes she might as well resign herself to being a mouthpiece forever. She shook out her fists. Okay, she could fix this.

  He wouldn’t like the consequences of deceiving her.

  Not one little bit.

  Harlan slowed, waited for her to catch up. “I think I like it better when you're asking questions.”

  She flashed her eye teeth. Would her uncle allow her to deal with him herself? She’d heard Antarctica was nice this time of year.

  “I got a feeling you’re planning to chop some of my favorite body parts into tiny pieces.” He stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it around. “I kinda like things the way they are.”

  “Which way to the railroad tracks?”

  He pointed ahead. “But flagging them down won’t work. Those trains go too fast to stop. And it would be noticeable. Thought the idea was for us, er, you to sneak in.”

  She caught his slip. “So, you’re wanted in Abaddon.”

  He shrugged.

  “What are your crimes?”

  “Crimes? Jeez, I’m the good guy here.” He set his hand over his heart. “I’ve only ever stolen from the ‘Viders and, well, those who deserve it. But they were bad people. You would have thought so, too, if you’d been there.”

  Great. She was taking a wanted criminal into Dark Hope’s inner sanctum. Her gut said to trust him, that he was a valuable resource. But her gut needed experience, not book learning before it could be trusted. Only time could teach her the meaning of the little things——a flicker of an eyelash, a shifting gaze, and a stutter.