by Angela White
“If you push me, I will kill you,” the Demon’s voice was cold, without weakness, and when Aaron raised his gun, finger tightening on the trigger, the Witch surged forward to laugh at him.
“You think that’ll work on the likes of me? The woman may die, but I am immortal!” the Witch shoved forward, demon face merging with her host, and the black man went pale at the glowing red eyes and hungry white fangs. Horns came from the sides of her head, long, crooked mouth opening to reveal razor sharp teeth that looked like needles, and when the Demon’s forked tongue lashed out at him, Aaron turned and ran, never turned back.
The Witch remained, resisting Angela’s attempts to get her under control, and the Preacher showed no fear even though he was now facing her alone.
“You’re not strong enough to override her morals. She’s a doctor. She won’t let you kill me.” he countered, sure he had her, but the Witch grinned back, red eyes changing, becoming reptilian.
“You know so little. Doctors kill often. They just don’t murder. This would be self-defense.”
Leaning on faith, Warren grabbed her arm again, bible still in his hand, “I am the Lord’s Prophet, and I see you, Demon of Souls! Surrender yourself to me in the name of the Father, the…aaahhhh!”
The Witch released the ball of flames before Angela could stop her, and the fire leapt hungrily up the drunken Preacher’s bare hands and face. He slapped at himself frantically, the flames spreading fast, and Angela shoved the Demon back before she could hit him with a final blast.
“Stop! It’s enough.”
“Never! Never be enough!” the Witch roared, furious, and Angela looked at Warren with hard eyes, ignoring his pain as he tried to put himself out.
“You have offended us, Preacher, and the Demon wants your soul as payment,” she stated harshly as he yanked off his smoking jacket, fear and hatred filling his face. “She’ll settle for your death.”
The woman held out a hand, where tiny flames were flowing in her palm, growing, shaping them into a ball.
“Does it have to be today?” Warren wanted to push anyway, she could feel it, and Angela let the Witch’s red eyes blended with her own again.
“Last warning…”
The religious fanatic spun away, tattered bible falling to the muddy ground, and Angela sucked air into lungs that burned from holding her breath. She’d won. She was free.
Her scream of triumph echoed as they fled.
Alexa jerked awake, the impression vivid enough to make her smother her own cry of victory.
Her men looked around groggily at the sudden movement. Understanding it was the dreams, they fell back into that light, dangerous sleep, leaving her to her thoughts.
The ghost of her father haunted from his journal, but Alexa was encouraged by the vision. Knowing another like her had survived the end of the world was a comfort to her tired soul.
Two
1
At dawn, they were back on the road, and even in this post-nuclear wasteland, they saw life struggling to continue.
Oddly colored bugs the size of tuna cans trundled through the sand, their enlarged bodies twitching hungrily. In the distance, they could make out the occasional flying shadows dipping sickeningly behind the hazy mountain peaks. Rats also scurried in the pale dirt, long tails now forked on the ends like their tongues, and the group kept their hands on their weapons, ready to act. The rodents were abundant and aggressive - yet another threat.
The group of seven moved in a wide V, the men behind their leader. The layers of dust in the sky blocked the sun’s rays, making the August temperature feel like the winter season. There were no buildings in sight, no signs of people. Just the sand and the wind and the uninviting Georgia Mountains that got closer with every step.
It stayed that way until dusk approached.
2
The shapes in the distance were somewhat of a surprise to her men, but not to Alexa. She’d been hoping some of the past had held. Just ahead, the trading caravan winked on and off in the hazy light of an orange dusk.
“Myth no more,” Daniel muttered, tensing like the others as they got close enough to see that their impression of no people around here had been false. Cloaked forms and shadows moved endlessly through the large circle of vendor vehicles.
“Mind your lines,” Alexa instructed tonelessly.
That they would explore together was a given, and the males stood straighter as they were noticed. Being a member of Alexa’s guard was an honor they flaunted at every opportunity… which was rare in this new world of hide-and-survive.
The stores were all set into the vehicles, shelves and baskets hanging from mirrors and bars extended from inside, and above each, a glittering name - Mary’s Maps, Digger’s Tools, Grant Gold Exchange. All the shops had lines of scraggily, impatient customers and burly, half-naked female guards standing watch over the wares. Around these rusty cars, trucks, wagons… were the refugees. Tattered, thin, and weak, they haggled with the merchants, trying to get enough supplies to continue living.
Some are having more trouble than others, Alexa thought, spotting a very thin woman with three small blond boys huddling away from the contempt of a vendor. The clerk was holding up a can of fruit, mocking her harshly for being unable to buy even a single one, and Alexa’s men heard her deceptively soft growl of rage.
Turning her head, Alexa narrowed in on a group of female riders just approaching the gold exchange next to the fruit store… hard… dangerous. The eight women were dressed much the same as she and her fighters. All appearing to be related, they were likely Warlords… male slave-traders, and she was striding into their territory with six healthy, unmarked males.
Did they need anything so much as to risk such a battle? Alexa’s answer was no, but she didn’t change their path from the first truck. She wasn’t in the habit of avoiding those risks, either. If the family clan challenged her, there would be a fight. It was that simple.
Edward had also noticed the eight women. Of all those here, only that group wore the same dangerous eyes. It was exciting to see, and he wondered briefly if Alexa might let them spend a few hours with a Caravan Slammer. He caught sight of the objects of his thoughts, their strung-out faces and jerky movements marking them as dirty, and he pushed the repulsive thought away. Never on his life! Maybe in the past he would have lain with one of them, but after Alexa, he couldn’t stomach even the thought.
Of the thirty or so customers, and the three dozen vehicles with their owners, hawkers, and guards, few missed the arrival of Alexa and her men. Certainly not the group she and Edward had noticed. These eight females were part of the clan ruling the Georgias uncontested, and anyone who came through was required to pay a token of respect to Heather and her Reapers.
The seven younger females waited for their mother to give the command, but it didn’t come. Heather, once an activist supporting equality for males in the female workplace, had a very bad feeling as she watched the hard-asses move closer. The moon had ridden wrong for her last night, sending a wave of need into her guts that had brought her here to trade for a fresh male… until she’d seen the poor specimens on display. They wouldn’t be able to help, but fire raged at the sight of these new men, their challenging walk, those thick, vainly held arms that were not marked like those of a slave…
“Mother?”
She ignored her youngest, knowing the others were even now shushing her with quick shakes of their heads. Mandy was only along for the ride, not yet a member of mommy’s coveted guard.
Heather studied the men… and already feared their leader. Training women who wanted the same thing was easy when you’d birthed them all. Reprogramming six adult males took a heat that Heather wasn’t sure about stepping blindly in front of.
“We’ll do a follow after dark.”
Very adept at reading lips, Alexa dropped a golden nugget onto the small counter with a scowl, ignoring the flinch of the redheaded midget clerk. “Three of every kind you have.”
&nb
sp; The pig-faced man, who clearly hadn’t been eating his own stock, gasped in shock at the huge demand. His face wrinkled up to become even thicker, uglier.
“Problem?”
At her raised brow, he hurried to fill the order before she could take the gold back.
Behind her, Alexa’s men were pleased at this latest sign that they were following the right person. They were already sure the order wasn’t for their own stock. They’d found plenty, and she always had them take seven of each, without fail.
As they waited, Alexa turned to run slow, bold eyes over every inch of the caravan she could see, giving a warning to those currently planning to take what was hers. Most of the faces dropped, telling her their level of threat, but when she came to the family group, a battle of wills began.
Heather hadn’t wanted to face the blonde warrior, but she’d be damned if she’d let herself be cowed in front of her guard, either!
They stared in open challenge, unblinking, until Edward stepped in front of Alexa, saving her the loss of having to look away as the clerk finished.
“Where do you want them delivered?”
Alexa didn’t smile. “You already know. By two.”
The Horseman nodded to Jacob and David, and they fell in to guard while he carried the three large boxes to the woman with the crying kids… all at the same time, showing off his strength. He didn’t like the way they were being eyed by the family clan, but it was more than that. Pride was something Edward held a great deal of.
The woman with the crying kids was clearly stunned, listening in rapt silence as he explained that all the food in the boxes now belonged to her. He stayed for a long moment that ended in a quick hug from the smallest of the three boys.
Edward didn’t respond physically, he knew better, but he allowed his lips to smile. “Alexa. That’s her name.”
He returned to his Master’s side proudly, and those who could still feel such an emotion were flooded with shame. Others saw it as a weakness that still wasn’t enough to consider attacking her for her males. Yet a few more understood it as a clever ploy to win the support of those who lived in the area, assuring an easy trip through. Only Alexa’s men guessed correctly - she did it because she cared. It was one of the reasons they followed so loyally.
Alexa moved toward the next store, where a familiar vendor waited with shifting yellow eyes. Her men recognized him immediately and stayed back as the Troll came out of the wagon and greeted them.
“Jendon.”
“Lady!”
The Troll appeared exactly the same, with tufts of yellow hair that came from his ears to move on their own, and those reptilian eyes that could put men into trances.
“How goes things with the baby?”
Jendon blinked, confused for a moment, before brightening. “Good. All settled and happy, last I heard.”
Ignoring the surprised mutters of the other vendors - usually humans were given first consideration in the Caravan - Alexa pointed to three of his potions. “Fresh.”
Jendon nodded, immediately starting a fire in the pit next to his wagon. “Quick or good?”
Alexa allowed a grin to trace her lips. “The difference?”
“Backfires are common in sloppy loads.”
Jendon flashed one of those harsh smiles that had Alexa’s men sharing amused looks. It had startled them - as it was startling those now watching - when they’d first met the Troll.
Alexa snorted at the gun joke. “Good, my friend. I have little desire to miss what I aim for.”
The troll livened even more at her words, “Aye, Lady. An hour for the reds, three for the blue.”
“You’ll bring them by later?”
He shook his head regretfully, but Alexa could see he really wasn’t. “We run until dawn and then leave. I’ll send them, though.”
“We’ll be easy enough to find, I think.”
Alexa gestured at the next store, not offended. Trolls and Fire-Demons were a bad mix most days. “Can I trust him?”
It was the gold exchange vendor, and Jendon shrugged, sending yellow tufts of hair into further disarray. “As much as any. Most of these understand it only works if people are satisfied. They don’t want any other caravans starting.”
Alexa dropped two thick pouches onto Jendon’s rickety table, and quickly yanked a blonde hair from her head. She motioned to her men and stood watch as each of them did the same.
When the Troll finished collecting all of it, he dropped the hair into a charred, cruddy can, humming happily. Sliding into his work, he poured in liquid and powders with graceful, artful sweeps and slides that he seemed unaware of.
“Potions, charms, spirits…”
That sent a light chuckle around the men, reminding them again of their first meeting with the fast creature.
Alexa turned for the gold exchange before she could join in. When they’d met Jendon, she had been sure they would be hard enemies. What a pleasant surprise to be wrong! In good humor, she made rounds of every store and bought something from each. She was keen to help keep these people alive if she could. Despite being so bad off, they were still here, toughing it out with no signs of resorting to the usual tactics of those who sold things, and that alone, was reason enough to give aid.
Their last stop… was the auction block.
Alexa didn’t spare her fighters from seeing their fellow males chained like animals, but they knew she didn’t condone it either. In the places they’d come through, the slaves for sale had been much worse off than these lightly marked men sitting in the shade of the stage. One had been nearly dead from a gangrene injury and Alexa had bought him… to put him out of his misery.
The Block (stage) was set onto the rear of a rusty, flat-bed semi. A group of twelve slaves were currently on display for twice as many customers, and another dozen were being allowed to eat while they rested in the shade of the truck. Their guards were five of the thickest females Edward had ever seen, and he was careful to mind his place as Alexa’s right hand. She wouldn’t like it if he began shooting without provocation.
Not in the market for another fighter (she liked their number just fine) Alexa still studied the marked men. Over two thirds were strung-out - more easily controlled if they were kept drugged, she assumed. Most of the others wore the dazed looks of men pushed beyond their limit. They would have to be tended before they could be helpful. None of these slaves would be willingly bought by the shrewd, lazy customers here that only wanted workable males, she was sure. Very aware of how the slaves were staring in longing at her own fighters, Alexa though she might be able to change that with a simple purchase. Humans always wanted what they thought someone else valued.
She stepped lightly to the biggest of the hawkers, a 6’ tall bald female with dusty overalls and a shotgun. “You have a virgin?”
There was a stunned silence from those listening. An unbroken male was so rare it was almost a myth.
The taller, wider, meaner-looking woman glared down angrily. “No.”
Alexa gestured lightly toward the stage, evaluating. “You’ll let me use them? I’ve got gold and dust.”
The clerk’s thick face was getting hotter by the minute, telling Alexa she cared about her charges. “No!”
“What are the prices?”
The answer was given in rush of the normal routine. “A thousand per head, or ten gold nuggets.”
Clink!
A quick movement from Alexa placed a heavy pouch on the stage that drew attention from even the dazed males. That was the sound of someone being bought.
“I need two gentle slaves with no thoughts of control, only helping and peace. No addictions or disease.”
Others listening snorted, but the red-faced clerk nodded slowly, understanding that the questions had been a test. Her rough voice now held an edge of respect. “The two on the end, jeans and arms marked with only one line.”
Alexa moved toward the chained men, not missing the weight of the gold. Now that mankind’s number
s were so low, it was more abundant than they were.
Her uneasy fighters followed. Her words said these new men would not be fighters, nor were they so close to death as for her to kill them in mercy. Alexa had never bought a slave. Would they have to endure such from her? Inside, they knew better, but surrounded by the waves of misery coming from the chained males, the worry was hard to ignore.
Alexa knelt down in front of the stiffly sitting men, her words too low for even her own group to pick out. She spoke quickly and the two slaves listened in rapt attention. When she finished, they both stood, slowly, and waited to be unchained from the rest. They were healthy enough, these two the clerk had chosen.
Alexa gave the guard a nod. “My thanks.”
The guard had been just that before the War, helping to keep animals away from innocent people. After the War, the woman had discovered that the animals were safer.
“Go now, and remember my words.”
Both of the bare-chested males gave her looks that said they’d do anything to stay with her, and Alexa shook her head. “She has more need of you than I.”
Disappointed, they reluctantly moved toward the woman with the kids who were no longer crying, but happily eating on the hood of their truck, Alexa turned to observe the other vendors and customers instead of the coming show.
Everyone else in sight watched the two slaves approach the woman carefully, hands held out, and be accepted gratefully as they gift they were meant to be. Alexa had seen the woman’s need, but more, she’d reminded a few of the old way, the ones that hadn’t always been about greed. She’d forced them to face their own selfishness merely by helping a stranger and her children survive a bit longer in this new hell.
Heather and her daughters also observed the moment, but with loathing. They hated the weak, the poor. If womankind was to survive, the breed needed to be pure, and the struggling female that now owned two slaves was head of one of the few remaining families that Heather’s clan hadn’t been able to ferret out yet. The rest were either members of her camp or dead. If you lived around here, in this part of the Georgias, you served the Reaper.
