by Angela White
“They followed. We’re good.”
“Shut up.”
A light moved toward them.
Kendle and Conner waited side-by-side with their guns aimed at the ground.
“How do you want to handle this?” Conner asked nervously.
“We talk.”
The five men coming through the dusty tunnel were tall and thin, with modern clothes over filthy skin. They wore once-expensive shoes and their hair was styled in a variety of sophisticated cuts that Kendle and Conner hadn’t beheld in ten long months. It was disorienting to confront folks who looked like they had stepped from the pre-war past.
The trio didn’t stop or speak as they came toward Kendle and Conner. The automatic reaction was to raise their weapons.
“Stop there!” Kendle ordered, noting that their beaten decoy wasn’t among this group.
“Or what?” the tall black male in the front taunted. “You’ll never learn where your friends are if you kill us.”
Kendle and Conner rushed forward at the same time.
The group of soft men clearly didn’t expect a violent response, despite being thieves who obviously participated in this sort of thing regularly. They cowered from the guns, dropping to the ground.
“Don’t!”
“Stop!”
“Where are they?!” Kendle demanded, shoving the barrel of her new Glock into an apron-clad chest. “Who are you?”
When none of the men spoke, Conner played the role that he thought Kendle would understand. He roughly slammed the nearest man in the shoulder with the butt of his gun. “Someone had better speak right now!”
Kendle didn’t interrupt. She wasn’t going back to Safe Haven to tell Marc that she lost their team, literally.
“Don’t hurt us!” the short white male cried. “Don’t hurt us!”
Kendle retreated, lowering her gun at their terror. “Who are you and where are our men?”
“I’m Rice,” the leader, a tall male of mixed race, answered sullenly. “Your guys have been taken to the market.”
“The market?” Kendle repeated, noting the ugly brand on the man’s wrist. The others didn’t have one.
“This is Market Town.”
Before Kendle could demand more information, the leader sat up. He stared in resentment. “It was our turn to set the trap, so my brother, Baker, took his licks and went out.”
“There’s going to be big trouble for you,” the squattest man warned.
Kendle and Conner both scowled. That was obvious.
“Where is this market?”
Rice pointed towards the surface, south. “The next town you come to. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“So you guys do this willingly? You kidnap your own people and sell them?”
“Better you than us,” the bald man stated angrily.
“You get protection in exchange for doing this?” Conner asked.
Rice said, “We volunteer. In exchange, we are allowed to trade in the market and live on the outskirts of the wall. We don’t have trouble here, except for those like you.”
Kendle and Conner were baffled.
“You like being a slave?” she asked.
“You out-of-towners don’t know anything!” the black man accused. “Can’t believe you’ve never heard of Market Town.”
One of the other men who had been silent until now swept Kendle from hair to boots. “Looks like you’re from a hard place.”
“We’re from Safe Haven,” Kendle informed him, wondering if the dirt under his nails made his name Farmer.
“Where?” Rice asked.
She shook her head in disgust. “Let me guess. No radios are allowed, right?”
None of the men answered, providing one anyway.
“If you want your men,” Rice stated in a tone that said he’d repeated it too many times to forget the lines. “You have to buy a ticket into the market. Once you get in, you can trade for them.”
Kendle motioned the other men to stand up. She regarded the male who hadn’t spoken yet. “Who are you?”
“Flour,” the man answered.
Kendle spotted the white fingernails, confirming her suspicions as to what type of settlement this would turn out to be. “What’s the currency in the market?”
“Same as it is anywhere, I would imagine,” Rice answered. “Beans, bags, bullets and bodies. Cars are good, too.”
Kendle and Conner considered their vehicles with a sinking sensation.
“This is the rest of the trap, right?” Kendle asked angrily. “Keep us busy while they steal our stuff?”
Flour shrugged, straightening his apron. “It’s a hard world out there. We do the best we can to survive.”
Kendle almost understood now. These were city inhabitants who had been caught up in a turf war. They hadn’t had any way to defend themselves, so they had fallen in line with the tyrants. Now, after almost a year of being forced to hurt their fellow man, there was little compassion in them.
Kendle motioned toward the hole. “We need to go.”
Conner glared at Rice. “Is there anything else we need to know? I would hate to have to come back here.” Conner had sensed something upon entering the tunnels, something he didn’t know if he should tell Kendle about, but he was eager to be away from it.
Rice and Flour exchanged glances before shaking their heads.
Kendle tapped Rice with the barrel of her gun. “You stay with us until we get our men.” She shoved him towards Conner. “Let’s go. The rest of you, get out of here before I shoot you.”
The others fled without a backward glance.
Rice watched them with lips that disappeared into a thin line.
“Let’s go.”
It took a couple of minutes to get out of the hole and then to where Conner had parked. The rain and wind were still coming in strong waves, but the thunder and lightning had finally stopped, making for a muddy, windy crime scene.
“Gone,” Kendle muttered. She went to the almost dry squares where their trucks had been parked. She knelt down as a dull flash caught her light.
“Nails painted gray,” Kendle stated, tossing it to the ground.
Conner peered around in disbelief, patting his pocket, where metal jangled distinctively. “How did they get the keys? I still have them. How did they move our vehicles?”
Kendle gestured towards their unwilling guide. “They’ve done this before. They’ve gotten good at perfecting the methods.”
“Hot-wired?”
Kendle sighed. “Not really. They had the keys for one. Not that hard to break the steering column off and then loosen the key latch enough to remove it without shutting off the engine. They probably hot wire them with other suckers, but we made it easier than that.”
“Why didn’t they wait and take us too?” Conner asked, wiping drizzle from his skin.
Kendle shoved Rice towards the hole. “Someone has to be left to pay.”
It was a very old strategy. From robbers to pirates, stealing a person’s gear and forcing them to buy it back had been employed successfully since the beginning of time.
Conner and Kendle took Rice to the tunnel, questioning him as they splashed through the darkness and the muck.
“Do you have a town of folks like yourself or do you hide underground like trolls?”
“We have a town,” Rice volunteered eagerly. “The tunnel where you found me leads to it.”
Conner went first again, watching for trouble, but none of the other locals were still there. The tunnel was now dark. “Did they run?”
Rice snorted, “Yes, straight to the market. The masters will know that you’re here in a matter of minutes.”
“Will these masters hunt for us?” Kendle asked.
“They know you’ll come for your people. There’s no need to waste manpower.”
Kendle angrily shoved Rice into the ground. Safe Haven wouldn’t like what was going on here, not one bit.
“You lead the way,” Kendle ord
ered, glowering at Rice after she dropped through. Her anger at the situation overrode her terror of being underground as she marched them through the sewer.
The man obediently led, not bothering with his light.
The tunnel widened into a corridor and then stairs that rose from the floor. They went up towards another dark hole, where wind and rain greeted them. Mostly surrounded by more woods, there were shapes of buildings in the distance.
Rice led them into the town, greeting the patrol on the perimeter.
It was clear that they didn’t consider customers a threat here, so it had to be animals that had these sentries on edge. Everyone knew nature was trouble. Kendle and Conner made note of the security as they entered the small town. They also noted half a dozen houses, five apartment buildings, and no vehicles. The stench of slavery grew stronger.
Rice exchanged short greetings with some of the guards that they passed; clearly not worried about being in trouble for the company he was keeping. In fact, the sentries appeared pleased with him for it.
Conner drew her attention to two sentries adjacent the area where they had emerged. The two Mexican men, wearing long dusters and rifles, smirked at them. Judging from that, Kendle assumed they knew what had happened, how easily they’d been robbed.
Embarrassed, Conner started to go confront the men. He didn’t know what the matching blue helmet tattoos on their cheeks meant, but he was a descendant. He wasn’t scared.
Kendle grabbed his wrist, sucking in a breath at the contact. When Conner was mad, he felt like Adrian.
“Later,” Kendle insisted.
Conner was also aware of the connection that had lit up between them. There wasn’t any time to explore it right now, however. He stayed with Kendle, scanning the foreign soldiers and locals that were still active after dark. Lanterns lit the small town and the citizens, but the damp darkness fought them for every inch.
There were more people here than Conner had seen since leaving Little Rock. Safe Haven didn’t count. When his father was gathering, souls came. To stumble across a town that had more than fifty survivors visible, without a descendant bringing them together and controlling problems, was something of a shock.
“What will happen to my men?” Kendle needed to know, storing details about clothes, weapons, security posts, and behaviors around the sentries.
“They’ll be okay.” Rice led them up the stairs to his home. It was a small apartment building with a metal and wood wall all the way around it. He opened the padlock on the door and led them inside. “Slaves are knocked out and taken straight to the market. They’ll be locked up until trading day.”
Kendle fastened the lock without being told, noting how many inhabitants were in the residence, where they were, weapons, exits, and other things. “Will they be hurt?”
“No, not until they’re bought. After that, they might be crippled to prevent them from escaping. Some have their tongues removed. The buyer gets to pick.”
Conner and Kendle followed Rice down a grungy tan hallway and up long stairs to a separate apartment. It looked as if the masters packed their denizens on top of each other like sardines.
“When is trading day?” Kendle asked.
Rice entered his home, holding up a hand at the men who started to rush toward him. “Tomorrow. You came through at the right time.”
Before they got any further into the small flat, Conner paused to say, “I need to tell you something.”
Kendle stored his nervous timbre. “Not here.”
Conner switched over to mental communication. There’s power here, descendant power.
Kendle knew. She was picking it up too, now that they were close to the source. She looked over to find Rice and his family observing them with a recognition that was unsettling. Kendle chose not to ask about that yet. Instead, she directed the conversation to the information they still needed. “How do I get a ticket?”
Rice waved toward the table, where a meal was being served. “You’ll owe for the food.”
Kendle shrugged. She already planned to repay their kindnesses in her own special way. “We’ll figure it out. Answer my question.”
Rice settled at the head of the table. A woman wearing jeans and a long black sweater that matched her black flats served him a bowl of rice with red sauce on top. Her appearance, classy, was also a surprise.
“You have to do someone a favor. That’s how the market runs.”
Kendle took the chair directly across from him as the female returned to the kitchen. “What kind of favor?”
Rice scooped up a large bite, waving off a fly. “Some folks need food, some folks need medicine. It all depends on the person selling the tickets.”
“Who sells them?” Conner asked, standing next to Kendle’s chair. He had chosen to be the lookout, as if he were a full Eagle in his father’s army. There were half a dozen thin men and women in here with them, but they were all happily occupied with tablets and hand-held games.
“Our family has that honor this month,” Rice stated over the music of several games.
Realizing they were dealing with the person that was able to get them in, Kendle rested her arms on the table, leaning in. “What is it you need, Mr. Rice?”
The man studied her briefly. “I already know you have nothing I need. I know, because we took it.”
“What usually happens at this point?” Kendle asked. “When the person doesn’t have anything left for you to steal.”
Rice’s sleazy gaze went over her body. “You still have something I can use. Or rather, something that I can sell. One week of service should pay me back for this shelter and food every night that you two are here.”
Before Kendle could refuse the deal, Conner shoved across the table and grabbed Rice by the shirt. He jerked the local forward until their faces were inches apart. “She is not for sale!”
Kendle pried Conner off the unresisting man, forcing the teenager to sit down in the chair that she had exited. She glowered at Rice, letting a bit of the descendant come forward despite Marc’s orders to stay low-key on this mission. “Do we have to kill you all?”
The icy tension that filled the warm studio told Kendle that revealing her descendant status hadn’t been a good idea. She put a hand on her gun.
Rice motioned the others to leave them alone.
Kendle waited nervously to discover why.
“Maybe you do have something I need,” Rice stated, scanning her intently. “Sit down. Let’s deal.”
Kendle did, reaching for the bread and tub of butter. “You have animals here for this?”
Rice nodded, shoveling another large spoonful in.
Kendle and Conner slowly helped themselves to the meal, taking small portions. Their host was keeping a running tab.
Rice studied Kendle as he chewed. He swept her scars and weapons again, then Conner. “They’ll want him. Would bring a great price.”
Kendle stored the information, noting intelligence and suffering in the man. “What do you want us to do for a ticket?”
“Remove something from the market without anyone finding out,” Rice told her. “Take it far away from here.”
“And do what with it?” Kendle asked, confused.
“Protect it. It can’t be damaged in any way during the trip.”
“Do we deliver it to someone?” Conner asked.
“Pick someone good to care for it. Just never let it come to harm.”
“What is this precious item?” Kendle demanded.
“I won’t tell you that until after you agree,” Rice stated.
“Can we see it first?” Conner wanted to know.
“No,” Rice denied. “If the masters or the other locals here were to find it, dozens of lives would end.”
“And if we’re caught with it?”
“You’ll be killed. The item will then be used against your folks, and mine, at a later date.”
That was enough to convince Kendle. Rice was in willing slavery, but even he wouldn�
��t let the masters have control of whatever this weapon was. Kendle assumed that’s what they were stealing. She held out a hand. “We’ll get it out and give it a good home. In return, you will assist us in every way we require, including giving safe passage out of here. With supplies, please, since you stole our vehicles.”
“If you back out, we’ll kill your men.” Rice shook her frozen hand and then stunned her by shoving into her thoughts. Get it done and go away. No one wants your kind here.
Kendle blanched. “It’s not a weapon, is it?”
Rice snorted. “Of a sort, I guess. We’ll sleep when we finish here. Let this shift of guards drink for a while. No need to get on their bad side by being out roaming too much.”
Kendle dug into the food, mind racing across several possibilities. She didn’t voice any of them. Instead, she asked about the next thing that mattered. “Tell me about these masters.”
“So you can kill them?” Rice scoffed. “No. We have a deal. Don’t break it.”
“We can’t fight with anyone here?” Conner confirmed.
“No,” Rice stated. “You’ll get us all killed.”
“Your family and friends?”
“The entire town,” Rice corrected coolly. “Helping your kind is a death sentence for everyone.”
“Everyone?”
Rice swallowed, peering toward the window. “Most of us came from towns around here, like Butler. You hear about it?”
“No, I’m sorry, but we were going through there later in hopes of fuel.”
“Don’t bother,” Rice stated bitterly. “It was burned to the ground with people nailed in their homes. A magic user was found.”
Kendle scowled as she realized what was being asked of her. “You’re hiding a descendant!”
Rice flinched, even though she’d said it lowly. “We have a deal.”
“I’ll honor it,” Kendle vowed. “Tell me about them, as much as you can. I can’t steal something without at least knowing some basics.”
“I’m not getting everyone killed,” Rice repeated before letting out a nasty belch.
“I need currency to buy my team,” Kendle switched topics. “What should I use?”
“Food or information,” Rice stated immediately. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the cold liquid. “Locations of things they need would be good, but you’ll have to get it after you make the deal. Then you’ll get your men.”
