by Perrin Briar
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Details can be found at the end of EXPULSION.
Expulsion
Book Three of the Compulsion Series
Perrin Briar
Part One
Chapter One
The black bag was whipped off Siren’s head. She had a dirty rag in her mouth that tasted like sweat and grease. Her hair was plastered to her face and made it difficult to see much through it. It was hot inside that bag. She was glad it was off. She was calm, despite being in the middle of a Raider camp.
A cracked pot bubbled with something that smelled like old socks. The fire hissed as the water spilled over the side. Motorcycles were parked on the outer fringes of light.
“Well, well. What have we got here?”
The Raider Leader was a big man—they all were, or else they did not become leader—at least six and a half feet tall, and broad around the chest and belly.
“She’s the daughter of an influential figure in town,” the weasel-featured Raider said. Siren had been tossed over the back of his bike on the way there. “We snagged her on her way to the well.”
“Daughter of someone important, ay?” the Raider Leader said, scratching his goatee. “What do you reckon she’s worth?”
Weasel crouched before Siren and touched her face and dirty hair.
“A sack of provisions or two, I’d say,” he said. “Of course, we don’t need to hand her over right away. I’m sure she has plenty of other uses. The men could do with working up their appetite.”
Siren narrowed her eyes on the leader, glaring at him in total concentration. The leader staggered, taking a step back. He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a headache.
“We eat first,” he said. “I’m hungry enough already.”
“She’ll be dessert, then,” Weasel said, sneering.
He picked her up and dumped her on the ground. The Raiders sat down around the fire to begin doling out the food. Siren was face to face with another girl. She was younger than Siren, around fourteen or fifteen. She was hogtied, hands and feet bent painfully behind her. Her face was swollen and beaten, her clothes torn. Siren could only imagine what the poor girl had been through.
Siren shifted her jaw left to right to work her mouth free of the gag. She spat it out.
“Alicia?” Siren whispered.
The girl, surprised at hearing the name, nodded.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Siren said. “I’m here to save you.”
Alicia frowned. She looked from Siren to the hunched figures chowing down. Save me? her expression said. And who’s going to save you?
Then, as if in response, groans erupted from the darkness surrounding the camp.
The Raiders paused in the middle of their meal, wide fearful eyes looking out. Tense.
“Easy, lads,” the leader said. “There’s probably just a couple of them.”
They put their bowels to one side, stood up, and withdrew their weapons.
“Watch the girls,” the leader said. “They’re our meal ticket for the next few weeks.”
The men made a wide circle around Siren and Alicia, screwdrivers, knives, and iron poles in their white-knuckled grips.
Movement in the dark. Torn arms and hideous faces illuminated by the crackling light of the fire. There one moment, gone the next. Flickers of fireflies from hell.
“What are they doing?” Weasel said, voice whisper-thin. “Why aren’t they attacking us?”
“Maybe they haven’t seen us yet,” a small-framed biker said.
Then, the Undead came. Not in single file, but all at once, forming a deadly thick circle. They converged on the Raiders.
“Steady!” the leader said, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. “Now!”
The Raiders leaped forward, hacking and slashing at the Undead. A few mutilated corpses fell, but most only took a few slices and puncturing thrusts. There were too many bloody grasping hands and gaping jaws to mount an effective attack.
Alicia whimpered, shutting her eyes tight.
“Sh-sh-sh,” Siren said. “It’s going to be all right. Look at me. Stay calm.”
“Stuff this!” Weasel said, hacking at one Undead and booting another in the face. “I’m getting out of here!”
He made a dash for the gap he’d created in hope of reaching his motorcycle, but the Undead were already there, closing it. Then they swept the Raiders up, tearing and clawing at their soft flesh. The leader and one other Raider managed to escape, clinging on to their bikes, their legs dragging along the ground as they took off into the darkness.
Quinn entered the camp. He was not Undead, and if it hadn’t been for his ability to control the Lurchers, they would have feasted on him too. He took out a knife and severed the bonds holding Siren and Alicia.
“Nice work,” Siren said, massaging her wrists.
“Thanks,” Quinn said.
They turned to Alicia, removing her bonds and helping her to her feet. She was weak and unsteady. She shied away from them both.
“It’s okay,” Siren said. “We won’t hurt you. We’re rescuing you.”
Alicia didn’t look like she believed her, didn’t look like she’d ever believe anything anyone ever said to her again. She didn’t put up any resistance. The Raiders had beaten it out of her. Siren’s lip curled, wishing she could have a few minutes alone with the Raider scum.
They ate the food the Raiders had left behind, before packing the rest up to consume on their journey. They gathered all the supplies left behind in the Raiders’ haste to get away. They tossed what they couldn’t carry onto the fire. The raiders would circle back come morning, Siren knew. No need to leave them anything that might be useful.
Siren sliced the pipes on the motorcycles so the fuel spilled onto the ground. The earth naturally slanted in the direction of the fire.
Alicia stood, unsure whether or not to follow them.
“Come on,” Siren said. “We’ll take you to your parents.”
That was all Alicia needed to hear. Her eyes filled with the thought of them and their loving, warm arms. She followed Siren and Quinn into the darkness.
As they walked away from the camp, the fuel hit the fire and the bikes exploded in balls of flames. For the briefest of moments, the bright light flashed, illuminating the shuffling corpses on their left and right.
Alicia gasped, fearful, and hastened to catch up and keep close to Siren and Quinn. Neither of them had so much as blinked.
Chapter Two
The sun was just beginning to rise when Siren, Quinn, and Alicia approached a horse-drawn cart. They’d been walking all night, Alicia walking so close out of fear that she often stepped on their heels. As the road wound on and daylight asserted its presence with greater confidence, she found the Undead no longer surrounding them.
Upon seeing the cart, and despite how weak she still was, Alicia ran toward it. Her family climbed down and rushed to meet her.
“This is my favorite part,” Quinn said.
“You big softie,” Siren said.
The family embraced their lost daughter, each with tears in their eyes. Alicia’s mother set to cleaning the dirt and grime off her face, leading her away. Alicia’s father turned to Siren and Quinn.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said. “What you’ve done for us…”
“It’s nothing,” Quinn said.
With their abilities, it hadn’t been difficult to locate Alicia. Siren could influence the Raiders, while Quinn called in Undead reinforcements. There was no reason for them not to help out a family who needed it.
Ali
cia’s father offered a small bag of food.
“It’s not much,” he said. “But it’s all the food we have. No amount would ever be enough for what you did for our daughter. But it’s yours.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “But it’s not necessary. We don’t need your food. In fact, we’ve got more than enough.”
He reached into the backpacks they carried, stuffed with the food from the Raiders’ camp.
“We’ll share it with you,” Quinn said. “Instead, we ask a favor.”
“Anything,” the father said.
“We have a long way to go, and it would help if we didn’t have to walk all of it,” Quinn said.
“My carriage is your carriage,” the father said. “Where would you like to go?”
“Arthur’s Port,” Quinn said.
The father looked from Quinn to Siren. He smiled, showing his gapped teeth.
“A fortunate turn of events,” he said. “That’s where we’re heading too.”
They hopped on the cart. With the other family members and their possessions, it was a tight squeeze. Alicia was already asleep in her mother’s arms. The mother smiled at them and gave them blankets. The father clucked out the corner of his mouth. They began their journey.
“You sleep first,” Siren said to Quinn. “You need it more than me.”
It was a sign of how tired Quinn was that he didn’t argue. The bags under his eyes were dark and grey. He slipped into a deep sleep instantly.
As kind as the family were, Siren wouldn’t trust them. They were unknown to her, and anything unknown in this world was always something to keep you on your guard.
Chapter Three
With no cushion underneath them, the cart was a rough ride. They felt every rock and bump on the road. Quinn kept the Undead away, Pushing at them to maintain distance. A couple of times he made out dust rising from motorcycle engines on the horizon. He poked Siren awake so she could Push them away the same say Quinn had with the Undead.
They passed through villages, then entire towns, that had been abandoned, forgotten. Cities burned in the distance, still smoldering from the fallout.
Alicia and her younger brother Darren sometimes climbed from the cart and ran around it. They collected items and threw them around. They kept the toy they found and discarded the human bones.
The next day, the weather turned. It rained hard, turning the dirt into sucking sludge. The father of the family, whose name was Jethro, pulled his cart beneath a tree. It was good luck, because it was the only tree for miles in every direction. Quinn only hoped lightning didn’t accompany the storm.
The family set up pots and pans to collect rainwater, and used the spell to wash themselves using a single bar of soap.
The food Siren and Quinn had scavenged from the Raiders was already running thin. With all the help the family were giving them, insisting they not lift a finger, Siren and Quinn decided to be the main breadwinners.
Siren cleared the way of other survivors and Raiders, while Quinn ridded the towns of the Undead. It was much easier when they knew they wouldn’t be attacked. They could focus on foraging.
Something became very clear to them both. Siren’s ability to Compel was much more powerful even at a farther distance than Quinn’s skill at keeping away the Undead. Siren could Sense an entire town. Quinn could barely Sense half of it. Why that was, they didn’t know.
They picked amongst the towns and villages’ remains. Flies swarmed thickly over fallen, mutilated bodies. Rats had built their new empires inside destroyed buildings. Quinn didn’t like to think about what they were feeding on.
After eating half a dozen grilled rats, Quinn turned to Jethro.
“Why are you heading to Arthur’s Port?” he said.
“They say there’s protection there for those willing to work for it,” Jethro said. “The Undead don’t bother those who live there.”
“What do you mean?” Siren said. “They have defenses to keep the Undead away?”
“I don’t know how they do it,” Jethro said. “Or even if it’s true. But it’s what they say.”
Quinn suspected a lot of people would flock to Arthur’s Port if they believed they would be safe. Safety came at a premium. He turned out to be right as the closer they got to Arthur’s Port, the heavier the traffic became. Up to two or three vehicles at once. New World rush hour.
They always stopped and exchanged a few pleasantries. Everyone was always heading toward, or away from, something. They exchanged news of Undead numbers and where they’d found trouble along the road. Quinn could have told the family they wouldn’t need to worry about the Undead or Raiders, but he didn’t want to have to explain how he knew that.
They passed through another village. This one had been burned to the ground. A sign declared the village’s name as Hope. Despite the fire, Quinn could see what had laid waste to it. He was too used to seeing the wounds and damage clawed human hands could deliver to ignore them. This village had been torn apart by the Undead. The fire had been used to scourge the village clean.
The land sloped downwards at an angle, revealing Hope was one of many such villages, satellites orbiting the crowning jewel city of Arthur’s Port, itself crouched upon the sea. It looked unreal, like poor CGI in a movie.
Whatever was happening here was working. That meant Quinn’s plan just might work.
Chapter Four
Siren didn’t catch the name of the next village they passed through, though it was filled with happy inhabitants. Men in uniform stood to attention around the entire village, but the locals weren’t intimidated. They actually smiled at the guards. They smiled and nodded to the family and Siren and Quinn, not keeping an eye out for Undead that might be close by.
They must have a death wish, Siren thought. But as they passed through the village, they found every member of the village was the same. They got on with their duties while the guards were entrusted with maintaining their safekeeping.
“They’ve got good reason to be happy,” Quinn said.
“Why?” Siren said.
“Because I don’t Sense any Undead anywhere near here,” Quinn said. “In fact, I haven’t Sensed a single Undead since a mile outside Hope.”
Siren reached out and Sensed the general emotion of the town. She was surprised to find the smiles weren’t fake. There wasn’t much fear, either. It was like a regular town. There were even gas-powered vehicles here. They were all used to ferry items between the various villages.
The cart came to a stop in a village called Second Chance.
“Thank you for everything,” Jethro said. “Really. We’ll never forget it.”
Alicia gave Siren and Quinn each a big hug. Seeing this, Darren decided to give them one too. They waved goodbye. The family headed toward the community center, Siren and Quinn to the other side of the village. They were heading for the central town of Arthur’s Port.
The road gradually became busier, with messengers and deliverymen hustling to and fro. Siren and Quinn hadn’t seen this many people—living, anyway—in a single place for years. They were overwhelmed.
Their heads turned left to right, ears buzzing with more noises of greeting and laughter and arguments and kids playing than they could keep track of. A hot poker hissed in a barrel of cold water at a smithy. Steam billowed from pies fresh out of the oven. The plop of excrement as a horse defecated. The road became busier the closer to Arthur’s Port they got. Many of the wagons and flatbed trucks were loaded with goods, predominantly food and farm products, but craft goods and weapons too.
“What do you think is going on here?” Quinn said.
“Civilization,” Siren said.
Using her skills of Compulsion almost constantly the past couple of weeks had made Compelling as easy as breathing to Siren. It was a part of her now. She poked and pried at each person she came to, absorbing everything she could about them. From the look on their faces to the jewelry they wore, to the clothes they had on their back
s to the emotions they secretly—and not so secretly—felt.
Finally, she selected one. A middle-aged man with soft hands and plain gold wedding band. Sometimes getting the information you wanted was as simple as choosing the right mark.
“Hello,” Siren said. “I wonder if you can help me.”
“I’ll try my best,” the man said, lifting the peak of his cap with his thumb. “What can I do for you?”
“I just arrived here and I’m not sure where to go or what to do,” Siren said.
“I understand,” the man said. “It can be a bit overwhelming at the beginning. I remember when I came here six months ago. It was busy then too, but nothing like it is now. That’s all the Controller’s doing. He’s in charge of the guards here, and they maintain a perimeter of safety around the town and outlying villages. They keep away Undead as well as Raiders. They’re very successful. There haven’t been many attacks. In exchange, the Controller takes a percentage of everything the townspeople make. They call it “an offering”.”
The man didn’t need much coaxing. He was quite happy to share this knowledge with her.
“How much is the offering?” Siren said.
“Fifty percent,” the man said.
“Seems pretty high,” Siren said.
“It is, yes,” the man said. “But what is the safety of your children and their futures worth to you? It’s not like anyone has anything they need to spend the money on. And the Controller doesn’t use all the food and gifts for himself. He gives some of it back to the people in the form of festivals and parties.”
Then why take so much in the first place? Siren thought. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what the rules here were for speaking out about those in charge yet.
“Most of it goes into building the ships,” the man said.
Siren had wondered what the hammering and sawing sounds were. They came from where the smell of brine was strongest.
