Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel

by Linda Andrews

  Uncle Joseph intercepted and handed it off to Thackery. "Get the damn things buttoned up."

  "Yes, Sir." Thackery saluted and marched away.

  Uncle's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Natasha. "You look like shit."

  What the hell? You don't say that to a woman. Any woman. Sera poked him in the back.

  Natasha grinned, flashing him her full set of black teeth. "Better to look like it than smell like it." She bounded down the steps and embraced her uncle. "I thought your wife might have scrubbed that stink off you by now."

  Sera stepped back. They knew each other? Uncle never said anything.

  "I find new piles to roll around in to keep her out of trouble." He squeezed Natasha tight before easing back. "George?"

  A single tear raced down Natasha's cheek. "He was my first lesson."

  Chills ran up Sera's spine. She had a feeling Natasha's lessons weren't something taught in Dark Hope's schools.

  Uncle Joseph crooked his arm. "Drink?"

  "You have a spare gallon or three?" Nattie slipped her arm through his.

  "You're never going to drink me under the table, woman." Uncle Joseph guided her toward a field were the airship ‘Eternal Hope’ was touching down.

  Harlan's shoulder brushed hers. "The 'Viders?"

  "Dead, I think."

  "No." He ran his finger along the back of her hand. "When I was swept outside, did they..." He arched an eyebrow.

  What? A moment later, she heard the unspoken words. Her cheeks burned. "They left me tied to the stairs like a windsock waiting for a breeze. Then Natasha came and helped me escape."

  He stroked her thumb. "If anyone could get away from the 'Viders, I figured it would be you."

  "Guards!" Men snapped to attention at her uncle's bark. "Escort Westminster and Tahoma to Eternal Hope and don't let them out of your sight, not even to take a piss."

  Sera's mouth fell open.

  Natasha whispered into Uncle's ear.

  He called out over his shoulder, "and bring the rest of the people in the house then round up the tributes. Someone named Mirabelle will tell you who and what that is."

  Ten guards surrounded her and Harlan. "You heard the boss' orders."

  Across the field, Otto checked the stunned people for his mother and brother. He cried and dropped to the ground to hug one woman. Guess he found his mom.

  A medic rushed over.

  Harlan laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders, dragging her forward. "Cheer up, Peaches. It's not like you haven't escaped from an airship before."

  Yes, yes she had. Still...

  A female security officer ogled his chest.

  Sera shrugged out from under his arm. "You should get a shirt."

  "We negotiating?"

  Chapter 42

  Marshall crawled through the dirt. Despite the numbing cold, her entire body throbbed with pain from the falls off the beast. Her teeth chattered as she dug her fingers into the ground and pulled herself forward. Crickets jumped in front of her. A rat rustled in the nearby bushes.

  She had to be close to the 'Vider camp.

  Where were the guards? They would pay for shirking their duty.

  For not finding her.

  She shook her head. No. She couldn't give up. Neither would she crawl on all fours like an unclean animal. Pushing to her hands and knees, she clawed up a boulder and stood.

  The world tilted and dipped, and she swayed with it.

  She checked her bandage. The cloth was saturated with blood. As were her pants, her hands and her shirt. The cold ate at her strength as did the exhaustion and shivering. She had to get to Nattie. The old bitch could heal her. Then she'd lead the 'Viders in victory over Abaddon.

  She staggered a foot, then several. Blackness tinged her vision. Just a little farther. She could make it. At ten feet, she'd reached the apex of the ridge, and the valley opened up below. Bodies lay strewn around the open square. Shaven heads lolled back as creatures in brown and green tossed men and women into piles like spoiled meat.

  Marshall dropped to her knees. Her 'Viders. What had happened to her 'Viders?

  She scanned the village grounds looking... looking... looking. A twinkle of light caught her eye. Gold glittered near the outstretched hand of one woman with gray hair.

  "Mother." The word tumbled over Marshall's numb lips and she sank onto her heels. There would be no revenge against the mayor of Abaddon, no empire.

  Her 'Viders were dead.

  Mother was dead.

  And North had killed her after all. Collapsing, Marshall allowed the darkness to bury her.

  Chapter 43

  Lee swam through the fog surrounding him. Some fuzzy animal inhabited his mouth. He tried to lick his lips and realized the fuzzy animal was his tongue. What had they given him?

  "We interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you this breaking news event."

  Cracking one eye, Lee glared at the smiling woman on the screen. If he had to hear one more time about how great Dark Hope was or its saintly founders, he'd find a way to break the damn thing.

  "Early this morning, Dark Hope Security Forces were seen leaving the city and..." The brunette held her finger to her ear. "Oh, we're told that the Cabinet is making a priority statement. Do we have anyone at the Capitol?"

  "I sincerely hope not." Lowering the side of his bed, he reached for the pitcher. His hand barely shook and only a few droplets sloshed out when he poured water into his cup.

  "Yes?" The brunette's brow wrinkled. "Yes, we do. We're going live to the Capital for this priority statement."

  "What, do they all have crabs?" Lee drank his fill then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Since he was feeling much better, he might as well sneak down the hall and visit Sammy.

  Not that his granddaughter would know he was there. According to Doc Julia, Sammy would sleep for the next couple days in preparation for the surgery.

  Then she'd be in and out of consciousness for another week while her body repaired itself.

  But he'd be there through it all.

  Doc Julia had even made arrangements for him to sleep nearby. Now, if she just kept her promise to get him some decent clothes.

  Holding his breath, he held the catheter and slid out of bed. The cold floor chilled his feet. Goosebumps raced up his legs. Lee clutched at the covers. His legs shook but held his weight.

  He didn't need to call for help. Gathering up the bags tethered to his body, he shuffled over to the cabinet.

  The screen flicked to a stage. Nine dour men and women crowded around a shiny silver podium.

  Ga. What an ugly bunch. These Dark Hopians needed a breeding program like in Abaddon. Lee's thoughts turned black. He owed his torturer and his honor a visit.

  A woman strode up to the podium. She smoothed her bun of black hair and set both hands on the podium.

  At least she wasn't too bad to look at. Must be why she got the speaking parts. Lee opened the cabinet. A neatly folded pair of white pants and matching shirt lay on a shelf next to a bottle. He picked it up and opened it. Those infection pills Doc Julia had given him rattled around the bottom.

  "Early this morning, our Security Forces responded to a tip about weapons being sold in the Outlands." The woman moved to the side and a man's image popped up next to her. "Chief Joseph Dawson led the fifth, sixth and seventh battalions as well as the Fighting Twenty-two elite strike force against the town of Sanctuary."

  Sanctuary. His Sanctuary? Lee's knees shook and he leaned on the cabinet to steady himself.

  The image shifted to show a bird's eye view of town.

  Lee recognized the village green, the stage and gazebo, even the malfunctioning clock tower.

  The bodies were new.

  So many bodies.

  "Death to the Nevilles." Someone shouted in the hallway.

  Lee yanked out his catheter and dropped it onto the ground. Blood bubbled across his skin when he pulled out his IV.

  "Although the town was
founded by those who nearly killed our Founding Fathers, our force’s mission was to liberate the citizens, not harm them."

  Lee shook his head. Obviously, they had a different understanding of harmed. Those people looked dead to him. Dead was the ultimate in harm.

  Boos echoed through the halls.

  He had to get out of here. Had to get Sammy and... No, he couldn't take Sammy. They could fix her. But would they? He had to take the chance. Sammy would die without that surgery. Maybe he could take Doc Julia with him, make her fix his granddaughter.

  No, that was just the stupid talking. He'd seen the stuff treating Sammy, no way could he take that with him. He jammed his legs into his pants and yanked them up. His raw privates stabbed him with pain but he knotted the drawstring around his waist.

  "Early reports indicate that one of the townsfolk poisoned the 'Viders, killing many of them."

  Standing a little taller, Lee tugged on his shirt. Probably that bitch daughter-in-law of his. She always was a sneaky one. Grabbing the bottle of pills, he swallowed two then shoved the rest in his pocket.

  "Death to the Nevilles!"

  Removing the slippers on the bottom shelf, Lee toed into them. For Sammy's sake, he had to return to Abaddon and collect the rest of that gold. Once he had it, he'd sneak back here and take his granddaughter far, far away from Dark Hope. Pounding the pillows into a body shape, he tucked the blanket around it. That should buy him a little time.

  "Although details are still coming in on this operation, I can say that all weapons have been recovered. We'll be releasing more information as it becomes available."

  Lee stuck his head out the door. A few patients shuffled up and down the hall. Slipping into the passage, he headed left, away from the nurses’ station.

  Heart pounding, he followed the signs to the exit. He stopped on the bottom level when he saw the image of the train and an arrow to the level below.

  Could it really be that easy?

  He slipped in with a group of men and women in green. A handful gave him a dismissive look but returned to their conversations. The stairs opened into a platform. Beyond it waited a white train. Using the chattering people as his shield, he stepped aboard and sank onto the first available seat.

  He'd done it.

  He'd escaped. The doors closed and the train glided forward. No one stopped him, shouted at him, or demanded his Neville blood.

  He was free to seek his fortune and revenge in Abaddon.

  Chapter 44

  Harlan drummed his fingers on the metal table bolted to the deck. Underfoot, the airship hummed and his stomach fluttered.

  "We're taking off now." Sera tugged a carafe from its slot on the wall and poured dark liquid into two mugs before passing him one. She sat next to him at the table, brushed her knee against his. "We'll be in Dark Hope in a few hours."

  "And then what?" He wrapped his hands around the cup. Warmth seeped into his palms. The 'Viders were dead. He'd found his sister. Ten years of his life gone. What was he supposed to do now?

  He barely remembered farming. Wasn't sure if he wanted to live so close to people. Maybe he could partner up with Sera and protect Dark Hope.

  Surely there were bad guys who needed killing even in paradise.

  "We'll go over all the statements the security officers are collecting and write our reports." She blew on the steam above her cup. "You'll be debriefed for days about everything you know about the 'Viders, and then you'll be given a home where you and your family can live."

  It sounded like Heaven. A very boring heaven. And he was certainly no angel. He raked his fingers through his hair. "What about you?"

  Setting her drink on the table, she slouched in her chair. "I'll go back to public relations, ribbon-cutting ceremonies, vegetable judging contests and speaking to school children about Dark Hope."

  Just the sound of it irritated him. She was one of the few from her city to fight for others. Shouldn't that be nurtured? "Vegetable judging contests?"

  She shook her head. "I'll be fine."

  "We're a long way from fine." Dawson stomped into the crew galley. Red spotted his cheeks "Those idiots in Sanctuary refuse to leave their town and clammed up once they learned we were from Dark Hope. I could ignore their remarks that I should have taken my bow years ago, but..." White ringed his mouth. "But to insinuate that we sent the 'Viders into their town so we could steal their stuff is just plain fucked up.”

  Harlan didn't blame them. He'd thought the same thing about Dark Hope, too. "It's their home. With the 'Viders gone, they should be safe enough."

  Sera's brow furrowed. "What do you mean take a bow? You're barely fifty-two years old?"

  "The nut-jobs kill everyone over fifty. Something about the good of the younger folks. Bah, I'll be glad to see the last of them." Hooking the chair leg with his foot, Dawson dragged it back, sat, grabbed Sera's cup and sniffed it. "Sugar?"

  She shook her head. "I want to go back out. I didn't find the traitor."

  "You found the weapons." Dawson pulled a glass dish closer and spooned four helpings of brown powder into his cup. "That's gonna have to do."

  That wasn't right. Harlan straightened. "She should be allowed to finish her mission."

  And he could help. His sister didn't need him, and she'd be safe in Dark Hope.

  Dawson spread his hands. "Nothing I can do about it. The Cabinet's decision was unanimous."

  Harlan had been down to his last few staples on steroids when men had fallen from heaven and had beaten the mob back. She'd called them in and had saved his life. He owed her. "Getting those weapons back couldn't have been done without her."

  "Don't tell me, son." Dawson grinned. "I'm not happy my little spy has had her wings clipped for the next eternity or two."

  The skin between Harlan's shoulders itched. That smile was pure evil. He'd seen it once before when Dawson had flat out told Harlan not to help Sera escape the Dark Hope embassy in Abaddon and forbidden him to see her.

  That hadn't worked out too badly in the end.

  "You mean she's a prisoner?"

  "It's okay. I'm used to it." She studied her fingernails.

  The hell it was.

  "The way I see it, you're gonna need someone the locals trust to get answers. Find out who poisoned the 'Viders." Like he cared. As far as Harlan was concerned, they deserved a medal. "Did they order the stun-guns and who was their contact? That's us." He pointed to himself and Sera. "We were there with them for a while. They'll trust us."

  Dawson shrugged. "I agree that we're left with a few more questions than I would like, but Sera's staying in Dark Hope. Nothing I can say will change that."

  Harlan's grip tightened on the cup. "How can you let them do that? Dark Hope can't be a symbol of freedom if they house arrest its people because of who their parents are."

  Dawson's grip eased. "Sometimes it takes an outsider to point out things we should have seen all along. What you say at the press conference... Well, that's something different."

  Sera leaned forward in her chair. "Uncle?"

  Harlan took a sip of his drink, allowing the bitter brew to wash over his tongue. Then he caught the subtext. Dawson might not be so bad after all. "What do you want me to say?"

  ***

  Harlan tugged at the noose around his neck. These Dark Hopians might call it a tie, but there must be a reason that word sounded like die. He smoothed his short hair and tugged on his jacket. Formal wear for the press conference.

  Sera turned, caught sight of him then stepped back. "Harlan?"

  He ran his hands over his clothes. God, had he forgotten a layer or three? Or maybe he just looked as stupid as he felt.

  She blinked rapidly then met him halfway across the airship’s lounge. "You look uncomfortable."

  He felt a tug at his throat then she wadded up his tie and stuffed it into her backpack.

  "It took me a long time to get that just right."

  "It's not you." She peeled off his jacket, spinning him a
round in the process.

  "Is this your idea of negotiations?" Not that he was complaining. But they did have an audience nearby and her Uncle Dawson was always lurking about, waiting for a reason to shoot Harlan with a stun-gun.

  She clucked her tongue before popping open two buttons at his throat. "They should at least get a glimpse of the real Raider hero."

  "Couldn't have done it without you, Peaches." Harlan rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

  She smiled at him.

  He leaned a little closer.

  “Dammit, Sera. What have you done?”

  Harlan leapt back at Dawson’s voice. Figured the man was sneaking about.

  “Giving the audience what they want.” Sera tossed him a half smile then headed for an exit. "See you on the other side."

  Harlan followed Dawson and Nattie down the gangway. Across the blacktop, a crowd gathered around a podium. He searched for Sera, his sister and her family. There, in the back. Security guards bracketed them. Two men moved in close before the guards shoved them back.

  Dawson clamped a hand on Harlan's shoulder. "Ready?"

  Hell no.

  Sera tossed him a half smile.

  Harlan nodded.

  Dawson strode up to the podium and adjusted the microphone. "As the Minister of Information has already explained, this will not be a press conference about the liberation of Sanctuary by our Security Forces. Instead, I wanted to introduce you to a man who has saved thousands of Dark Hope citizens from a horrible fate. Ladies and gentleman, I give you the Raider, Harlan Westminster."

  Harlan cleared his throat. Everyone in Dark Hope would see this, Dawson had said, and the cabinet ministers were accountable to everyone. He just hoped it worked. For Sera's sake.

  He crossed to the podium. His heartbeat drummed over the applause. And the carefully crafted speech left his brain. Shit. He was gonna blow it and Sera would be stuck here forever.

  Nodding encouragingly, Sera rocked baby John on her hip.

  Someone cleared his throat.

  A twitter followed.

  Harlan gazed across the crowd. The air hummed with power, a power the citizens of Dark Hope refused to use for the good of everyone, including their own. "Someone once told me that it takes an outsider to show us what is wrong with our societies."