by Angela White
Tripping, he rolled forward.
Marc was on his feet in an instant, spinning, but knew she was already there, and was impressed.
Angela used the palms of both hands to shove him, hard, and for the first time since he’d begun to teach her, Marc landed on his ass in the dirt, grunting at the impact.
“Very, very good. Now, do it again.”
Angela rushed him the second he was upright, looking to his right. When he defended the left, she came straight up the middle, hands going to his big arms. She used the leg sweep on him again as she shoved and then had to duck the fingers that tried to pull her along as he fell.
“That’s was great,” he praised, starting to get up.
“Don’t move!”
Her tone froze Marc with his hands splayed out in the dirt. He sensed something moving nearby as she slowly drew her weapon.
“Roll to your right when I yell, and come up firing. Targets at… ten, two, and three.”
Marc heard the soft pad of paws, and watched her for the moment to react.
“Shit. Two more at twelve o’ clock!”
Angela watched the three lanky, gray-and-white wolves, trying to judge their intentions. When a big black-and-gold animal that she hadn’t seen lunged from the shadows, there was only time to react.
“Now!”
Angela fired, a bit wildly on the first few shots, and one of the rounds caught the wolf in mid-leap, slamming into its chest.
It landed on the ground with a hard thud as Marc rolled and hit his feet, began to fire.
“Watch your six!” he warned, immediately sure the wolves were pack hunting. He put them back-to-back as the brittle stalks around them swayed with barely seen movement. The sky had begun to darken as they worked out, but neither of them had worried. They were used to being in the dark, but this time, they had let themselves be surrounded by dangerous predators.
Orbs gleamed at them through the dusk-tinted rows and they fired at the same time, dropping two wolves that had jumped from opposite sides.
A dark shadow appeared at her hip, and Angela stopped herself from shooting as she recognized Dog. She narrowed on a stocky white wolf running through the distant, yellow stalks. Before she could take aim, another shadow streaked past her.
“Damn it!” Again, she kept herself from firing by only a hair. “Dog darted to my right, chasing the white one.”
Marc spun them to face another dual attack meant to separate. They came in low, lunging for legs. Both shots killed, but two more hungry hunters jumped at Angela.
“Duck!” she shouted, firing.
She got the lowest animal in the chest as the other sailed overhead, and heard Marc take care of it as more and more eyes shined mercilessly in the dimness. Wolves were now streaming through the corn like rats.
Making sure they stayed tight against each other, Marc moved them in half circles, firing and kicking at the wolves not hungry enough to lunge but still bold enough to snap. He could feel Angela doing the same behind him, her grunts and shots mirroring his.
Flames rose up behind them suddenly. Marc noted the tall shadow of a man as he turned, shot a leaping wolf in the chest, spun again and killed a snapping wolf going for Angie’s leg.
More fire erupted, along with the pungent smell of gasoline as full darkness fell over them. Some of the wolves hesitated, but not the hungry frontrunners.
Angela jerked forward, stiff-arming a determined predator in the throat. Her gun was empty, and she knew by the silence behind her that Marc’s was too.
Drooling, fur bushed up, the wolves padded forward.
Angela fumbled for the speed loader on her belt, and Marc turned them again, slamming his mag in as two more wolves lunged.
He caught one in the neck, blood spraying, and shoved Angie backward in time to let the second animal go sailing by.
“Incoming!”
Reloaded, Angela shot the wolf as it hit the hard ground, and then fired at one in the air as Marc rotated them again. Shadows lunged, coming through gaps in the wall of fire, and she picked them off, assuming the silent gun meant Marc was reloading.
Marc stared intently at the hulking man, aware that the three-fourths circle of flames was discouraging many of the animals. This newcomer was gigantic, over 8’ tall, and yet he was graceful as he poured the last of the gasoline to ignite the gaps.
“Stay inside,” the big man instructed gruffly, voice heavy under his furs and hood.
Before Marc could say anything, Angela spun around, six shots gone. She gasped in surprise at the big man, but like Marc, her fingers didn’t stop. She had to be ready when he turned them again.
“On your right, woman!”
She twisted the stripper to load the bullets and flipped the chamber shut as she dropped the clip to the ground. She fired without looking, almost able to hear the slobbering jaws about to clamp onto her ankle.
A heavy body thudded to the ground.
“Dog! Guard her!” Marc shouted, firing.
Dog appeared at her side, bloody muzzle snarling viciously at more wolves trying to sneak through a thin gap in the wall of fire.
4
Kenn shifted restlessly in the plush seat of his truck, unafraid of moving alone through the darkness but more than scared of not being able to discover a way to keep Adrian from discovering what he’d done, who he had been.
Angela was here. He could feel it. It had been a relief to get to Cheyenne and find only the slavers (he’d watched for an extra day to be sure she wasn’t there, high in the trees with his scope), but he knew she was within a day of him, just not sure in what direction.
She was likely southeast, coming in on a straight line, but instead of going that way at the highway sign, Kenn kept the Bronco on the path he had taken after slipping away from the massive slaver camp. With full mags for his M16–swiped from the slavers–it had been an easy choice, and the Marine was sticking to it.
Kenn had his lights off, brake bulbs loosened to eliminate the telling glows, and he slowed as loud, rapid gunshots disturbed the darkness. Window down, he rolled slowly, trying to pinpoint the location. It was her. Kenn was suddenly sure of it.
More gunshots rang out, a battle for survival it sounded like, and he stopped. Scope always at hand, Kenn narrowed in on what appeared to be a ring of fire.
She was in trouble, he could feel that clearly, and the plan fell into place with a horrible snap. He would arrive in time to finish off whoever had killed his wife.
And if she survives? his worry asked.
Kenn grinned in the pitch-black truck. The sheep would be told she hadn’t. If they discovered she’d ever been here. He certainly didn’t intend to tell anyone.
5
Angela muttered a curse as three more wolves slunk into the ring, and she heard Marc echo her expletive as he fired repeatedly, hitting them all. They were in deep trouble. It was time to let the witch out and worry over the consequences later. “Fire!”
Bright flames spewed from Angela’s outstretched hands, hitting a gap in the wall as two wolves tried to dart through. Their fur lit up, and the heat of her power blew them into the dark cornstalks as the gap filled in.
“Over here!” Marc shouted desperately as the stranger took a rifle from the sling on his shoulder.
The witch obeyed, flames shooting like golden-blue comets from her fingers. It closed the spaces as each infusion traveled the circle of fire, strengthening it until the ring was solid.
“That’s it, Marc,” she gasped. “I’m low.”
All the animals were outside the ring now, whining uneasily, fighting with each other, and Angela pushed the witch back as she continued to shoot weak balls that disappeared into the air. Stop. We can’t win this way.
There were numerous dead wolves, but dozens and dozens more still glowered hungrily at them from the darkness behind the flames. They would wait for the fire to burn down and attack again.
“Bad time to be bleedin’,” the big man stated before h
e fired a well-aimed shot that took down a pair of wolves trying to breach the wall. One bullet had done the job of two.
Marc kept track of the big stranger as much as he did the wolves.
“You hit?” Angela demanded, keeping her attention on flickering shadows.
“No. Duck!”
They did it at the same time, dropping low, firing together. Two more wolves hit the dirt, and then slid through the already dying flames.
Dog jumped suddenly, meeting a wolf as it came over the fire. His powerful jaws clamped onto an unprotected throat.
Angela fired at the second animal stalking Dog.
Her first shot landed near its paw. Angie was afraid of hitting the wrong dark body, but her second shot went straight between its eyes.
“This is my last mag.”
“Me too.”
The stranger fired a bright red flare into the sky before their words had faded, and seconds later, a tremendous howl split the air.
Wwwhhhhhooooo!
It was a piercing whistle of some kind, the notes melodic and yet offensive at the same time.
Like a wolf’s howl, Angela thought.
It seemed to go on forever, and Marc put a calming hand on Dog’s shoulder as the wolves hesitated in their attack. Marc thought it had come from maybe two miles away, but no more.
Angela winced as the wailing increased and the wolves joined in. The volume continued to rise as the wolf call came again, pulling at them.
“That’ll be the Missus. She’ll have the bait out and be holed up with the others. We’ll be able ta go in a bit.”
“Won’t she need help?” Marc asked, amazed that the wolves were leaving.
“No. They don’t climb none too well.”
“How will you get to your family without running into the wolf pack?” Angela asked.
The man leaned in, big form intimidating. “You tell me, witch,” he grunted.
Angela concentrated, feeling Marc tense behind her. “Underground.”
The man grunted, tossed off his hood to reveal a horribly disfigured face partially hidden by a thick, shaggy beard.
Angela stiffened as the witch whispered. Aloud, she said, “What payment do you expect for helping us? Nothing’s free. Not before and certainly not now.”
The man shrugged, gaze darting over her shoulder to Marc. “We got a broken radio and no medicine, no ammo. Got any of that?”
She relaxed further. “Possibly. What else? That doesn’t equal the debt.”
His face was hard as he swept her from head to toe. “Girls could use some clothes...maybe some books?”
Surprised, Angela gave him a genuine smile.
Marc heard the man’s sudden intake of breath. He recognized the sound, that reaction to Angela, and rotated them again.
“The woman is not for trade.”
The stranger’s hardened face tightened. “Can’t hardly get it up now anyway,” Max muttered, crossing over the dying flames. “Damn diabetes. Come on. She’ll have supper waitin’.”
Angela and Marc exchanged a long glance of uncertainty, but chose to follow the big man’s shadowy form into the darkness. The corn around them was empty now, but not silent. The breeze blew through the hollow stalks, making an eerie moan that resembled the calling howl they’d heard, and Dog followed, his fur still bushed out in warning. Danger wasn’t far.
Once again glad to be alive, Angela and Marc quietly followed the big man through the corn. When the rows ended, revealing a dark stretch of sickly evergreen trees, they exchanged looks that said they would be careful. The wind was cool, smelled of shit, and they both spotted the fresh scat that littered the dead rows of waist-high corn. This was a part of the hunting ground.
“Almost there,” Max said, moving steadily despite his size. He stopped in front of a large clump of bushes.
Marc stayed by Angela, as did Dog. His thick fur was flecked in blood, and they both noted the big man casting hard glares at the timber wolf. Marc estimated they had come about two clicks from the battle scene.
“Grab an end.” The man bent down to clasp a large handful of the damp foliage.
Marc did it while keeping his ears open, not liking to be unfamiliar with an area but content enough to let the man’s true colors show when they would. The odds on this stranger winning weren’t nearly as high as with the wolves.
“Pull!”
Angela grinned in surprised admiration at the cleverly disguised sewer entrance that rose up like a blanket. There were thin, dark green puddles where it met the ground, a poison of some type Angie guessed. She was careful not to step in it, wondering if it was the chemical fumes that kept the animals from coming through, or if they had learned to avoid it from seeing their pack mates die.
“Close the flap and watch out for the rats. The antifreeze don’t tempt ‘em, and they don’t scare easy neither.”
As they trekked into the damp, stinking air of underground, Marc gestured to the night vision glasses on her belt. Instead of putting them on, Angela tapped the stranger on the arm and held them out.
Max started to take them and then shook his head, stepping by her. “You keep ‘em and watch out. Your blood’ll likely make fire shoot from their arses, and then we’d never be able ta keep ‘em out.”
Angela heard Marc snort in amusement, and she slid the glasses onto her belt. She didn’t sense evil in their huge guide, but his knowing what she was made her uncomfortable, and she dropped back, putting more distance between them.
Marc, however, was relaxing. He was almost sure the man had been military before the war, and he lit a smoke as they walked quietly through the stone tunnels. They moved over and around rotting furniture, mildewed piles of clothes, and whole and broken cinder blocks. Gray and green moss climbed the tall, dank, concrete walls that met a cobwebbed ceiling above them, and their boots echoed along with the distant drip of water.
“About there. Be quiet. She’ll have the little ‘uns ta sleep by now,” he said, indicating that the battle with the wolves was a long-running one.
Angela caught Marc’s silent words.
He thinks we’re a couple. Tell him different, and I may have to fight for you when it comes time to leave.
Angela also felt the man’s interest, but there was no sense of him being the one to fear.
They came to a stop, and when Marc gestured upward, Angela spotted a trap door in a wooden floor that was over twenty feet up, an impossible jump.
A rock suddenly flew through the air to slam into the stranger’s cheek.
Max sucked in a surprised breath at the pain as another, bigger stone sailed down at them from the damp darkness. “Damn! It’s me!”
The rocks stopped, and a woman’s indignant voice called down to them, “Shoulda said something!”
Max grunted, rubbing his arm where the second rock had hit. “Jealous, I think. Seen your woman.”
Marc agreed. Angie was a tough act to follow.
“Come on, Lenore! Did I save ‘em from the wolves to feed ‘em to the rats?”
There was no sound from above them, and Angela was unable to keep from grinning at the sigh of long-suffering that the big man let out.
“Definitely jealous.”
“I am not! The rope’s kinked up again. Hang on!”
Eyes, round and gleaming in the darkness, appeared in the deeper shadows around them.
Angela’s gasp was followed by the man’s urgent voice, “Now, woman! They’re comin’!”
The trap door slid open, and a rope ladder dropped on top of the man’s head.
“‘Bout damn time. Here!” Max grabbed Angela’s black sweater and lifted her onto the ladder in one effortless motion. As she climbed, his big hands settled firmly on her ass, shoving, caressing.
Angela jerked herself up and out of his reach, and her .357 was pointed at him an instant later. “You ever touch me again, your missus will use your balls for bait!”
The man stopped halfway through the opening, glaring at he
r.
“Angie.” Marc’s tone was patient, resigned.
“What?” she snapped, backing up.
“There’s a rat about a foot long trying to eat my boot. Let him through.”
Angela felt the rage clear and holstered her weapon as she studied the only other person in the big, cluttered kitchen of what was probably a one-floor, ranch-style home–Lenore.
Dressed in a stained white shirt and an enormous pair of farmer’s overalls with the pockets ripped off, the large woman was smirking at her man. A grand beehive of black and white hair hung in every direction like a bad wig, and the long, jagged scars on her face and arms told Angela she had fought to protect what was hers.
“I’m Missus Lenore Codd.”
Angela held out a hand to the giantess, the name ringing a faint bell. Wasn’t there a fairy tale based on the life of a giant by that name?
“Angela. I hope we won’t be a bother to you.”
The woman watched them intently as she shook firmly. “Me? No. Him?”
She indicated the man leaning down a hand to help Marc, not reacting at all when the wolf riding uneasily on his shoulders nipped at him. “Probably already have. T’was me that seen and sent him after ya. Told him I wudn’t cookin’ till he got ya here.”
Angela covered the woman’s large hands with her own. “Then, it’s you I owe the debt to. Good. Maybe we can barter, but for now, let me pay on the debt I owe. I’m a doctor.” Her voice lowered. “Diabetes can be controlled by doing certain things, and then the side effects go away.”
“Might could be. Let’s get them men fed, and we’ll talk.”
The woman grinned, clapped her on the shoulder, and Angela held onto the big arm to keep from falling as the reek of corn filled her nose.
Angela took her sweater off in the warmth. There was barely room to walk in the dusty, ten-by-twelve space, and the cluttered shelves full of bags, canisters, and unpacked boxes told her the couple had come here recently.
“Can I help? Set a table? Do cleanup?”
“You’re polite, eager to help. You remind me of the past,” Lenore mused matter-of-factly.
Frowning, Angela didn’t look away, though the stench of corn was making her eyes water. “I’m sorry.”
