Wings of the Walker (The Walker Series Book 1)

by Coralee June

  “If you believe anything I say, believe this. You will have freedom in my Providence. I am not forcing you into my household; I’ll pay you, protect you. All I need in exchange is loyalty and some more of that damn good chocolate cake.”

  He threw me what I assumed was his best attempt at a reassuring smile, and I considered his words while he moved back to the plush, velvet chair and took another sip of whiskey. I observed him openly. I found myself trying to wrap my mind around the manipulative nice-guy that was determined to do right by his people.

  I found a pencil and paper lying next to him, and after briefly asking his permission to have it, began sketching while the train moved on. Art was always something I had a passion for but lacked the time or supplies to fuel it.

  I briefly wondered if I would now have time to do the things I enjoyed. I sketched an abandoned church we passed by on the train. Its shattered windows gleamed with promise and the door’s paint was peeling. Trash littered the front lawn and graffiti stained its white, wooden walls. Realistically, it was a run-down chapel, left alone to suffer the effects of time. I captured each mark, each testament to its survival, despite the lack of care.

  Hours passed, and just as I was finishing my morbid sketch, I was startled to find Cyler standing behind me, peering at the picture. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered. The smell of whiskey filled my nose. “What made you want to draw that?”

  “It needed someone to remember it. Someone to recognize that despite everything it has been through, it's still beautiful,” I answered.

  Cyler nodded at me and, after looking once more, made his way to the oversized couch and laid down. I almost expected the flirty man to provide more commentary, but he took my explanation in serious strides. Soon, snores bounced off the side walls of the train’s cabin. Once he was sound asleep, I made my way around and cleaned up some of the clutter he’d left. I swept the crumbs and washed his glass. I still wasn’t entirely sure what role he wanted me to play, so I just performed the duties I was used to. Until I knew what they expected of me, I would continue to care for Cyler and his household.

  Although I felt tired from the travels and from staying up the night before, I couldn’t sleep. The anxiety was overwhelming, and it made me want to crawl out of my skin. I casually paced the floor in rhythm to Cyler’s timely snores.

  Chapter 9

  I allowed my anxiety to consume me and was lost in thought when a loud bang erupted, followed by screams from one of the other passenger cars. I stumbled over to where Cyler was peacefully sleeping and shook his shoulders in an attempt to wake him up.

  Another loud noise erupted. “Cyler, please wake up,” I yelled. His eyes bolted open, and he grabbed my shoulders. He sat up and peered at me with sleepy eyes.

  “What’s wrong, have a bad dream?” he asked jokingly. I started to explain when another bang erupted, and Cyler stood immediately. The noise seemed to stun him out of his playful mood. He jogged over to the control panel which was hidden by a wooden dash. He then skimmed the many screens until he saw the Walkers being ushered through the trolleys by strange men dressed in black. Each Dorma guard stationed in the individual carts was either lying motionless on the wooden floor of the train or missing.

  “Fuck. Stay here. Do not leave this room under any circumstances, you understand me? I'm locking it. Only open it for me.” Cyler grabbed a holster of knives and ran to the back portion of the train.

  I bit my nails in anticipation while listening to more bangs and loud screams. I tried to watch what was happening on the screen, but one by one each feed was cut, leaving me to wonder in fear what was happening.

  As each moment passed, I tried to remain strong, but tremors overcame me as the fear crept in. I checked and rechecked that the door to the connecting trolley was locked, and once convinced that no one could get in, I sat on the plush couch and listened intently.

  At first, I could hear movement and loud, but indistinguishable, shouts, and then, all I heard was silence. An eerie silence. A silence that amplified the rhythmic sounds of the train and made my heart beat seem unbearably loud. I waited, and still, there was no sign of Cyler.

  I contemplated his strict instructions but decided that it would be better to ask his forgiveness than sit waiting to be attacked. I grabbed a cast-iron pan that was in one of the cabinets of the kitchenette and opened the door that led to the next cabin. Sticky air blasted my face, and I skipped across the open connector, then slowly opened the door that led to the passenger train car.

  Inside was a terrifying sight. Cyler lay face down on the floor, bleeding, while women and children were crouched low and cowering in their seats.

  “What happened here?” I whispered.

  “Get low; the scavengers are coming back,” a woman whispered.

  I bent over and heaved Cyler onto his back, then checked his pulse. He was still alive but bleeding badly from his leg. He clutched a knife in his hand, and I went to grab it when he grunted.

  “I told you to stay in the main cabin,” he growled.

  I rolled my eyes. Only Cyler would scold me while on the brink of death. “Tell me what to do,” I replied hastily. I wasn’t sure what these so-called scavengers were, but I wasn’t willing to find out. Before Cyler could provide me with any instructions, he passed out again.

  A young boy crawled his way up to us and sat down. He then placed both his hands over the wound in Cycler's leg, to try and stop the bleeding. It appeared to be second nature to him, and I wondered how many times he’d had to do the same thing in the Walker Zones.

  “We were in the back train when they attacked us. They forced all of the women and children to move towards the front of the train while they searched the cargo cabin. Each bang, was them releasing a trolley. I couldn’t understand the language they spoke, but they found a chest of gold and stole it. They also put all the men in the back trolley and disconnected it from the rest of the train. Master Black tried to save them, but they outnumbered him,” the boy whispered. “We aren’t sure if they're coming back for us,” he continued with worry etched on his face.

  I quickly absorbed all he said and made a plan of action. If these people were coming back, we needed to consolidate and increase our speed. They had to have been using transports to get aboard, and without the added weight of the other trolleys, we could easily outrun them. The train’s main cabin was where all the controls were.

  “Okay, everyone let’s make our way towards the main cabin. We need to increase our speed and try to put as much distance between them and us as possible. If they've disconnected the other trolleys, then they aren’t on board right now. I was just in the main cabin, and I promise you all it is safe. I’ll need three of you to help me move Cyler.”

  I heard a few grumbles of disapproval, but, luckily, most complied. Eagerly, the women and few children left traveled single file into the main cabin. The younger boy and a beefy woman stayed behind and helped me lug Cyler’s limp body into the velvet, luxury main cabin, getting blood everywhere.

  I then went to the train’s central control panel and observed the different functions. After several minutes, I found the release mechanism for the last connected trolley and clicked to detach it. The scavengers must have used rudimentary bombs to remove the other cargo and passenger trolleys because it disconnected without a bang.

  Next, I found the speed controls and forced our trolley to maximize its speed with the allowed fuel. By the computer’s new calculations, we’d arrive in two days. I just hoped Cyler would make it that long.

  Through the night, I watched Cyler. I kept a hard pressure on the wound in his leg and tried to decrease the bleeding as much as possible. Eventually, a seamstress from the Walker Zone came forward and offered to stitch Cyler up. It was a long shot, but we removed his pants, and I watched as she carefully sewed the three-inch-long gash back together. We disinfected his wound with alcohol but also kept some to give him the occasional times he woke up in pain.

  The train re
mained mostly quiet, aside from Cyler’s brief whimpers of pain. I could sense that the earlier excitement of leaving Galla was now entirely extinguished by the attack. The women and children were rightfully scared, but I felt too distraught over Cyler to even briefly remove my eyes from his weak frame, despite the overwhelming exhaustion that consumed me.

  Each minute ticked by slowly. Whispers about Cyler’s condition annoyed me, and I kept wiping his brow to remove the sweat from his forehead. Eventually, he began to have periodical and uncontrollable tremors. The seamstress that previously helped me and I had to hold him down to keep him from re-opening his wound and tearing the amateur stitches.

  Although I didn’t know Cyler well, it pained me to see him suffer. For reasons I didn’t understand, I ached to take his pain away, and I spent each moment comforting him. Despite his rough exterior, Cyler Black had become a friend, a friend that I wasn’t willing to give up on just yet.

  The tremors came in waves, each one increasing in severity. I gripped Cyler's hand and whispered words of encouragement.

  Finally, as the sun rose on the last day of our travels, Cyler’s fever spiked as we arrived at a beautiful village framed by trees and full of homes made of wood. There were dirt roads and a crowd of mostly men, eager to meet us. Some cheered, and some had curious expressions, but I stood on shaky knees, ready to announce that we needed help. Once the train came to a complete stop, I slammed the sliding door open and screamed for a doctor. My voice was hoarse and weak, but it was loud enough to gather the attention of our welcoming committee. Hot air hit my face, and immediately I was greeted with looks of shock and concern.

  “Its Cyler, quick we need a doctor! Hurry! Three men pushed their way through the crowd and boarded the train. “What happened?” a red-headed man asked while feeling Cyler’s forehead and looking around the main cabin. “Are you hurt, too?” he asked.

  I looked down at myself and saw that blood stains completely covered my dress and skin. The exhaustion, fear, and overall emotional turmoil of the past few days consumed me like a relentless fire. The last thing I saw was the red-headed man’s concerned expression before I welcomed the darkness. As it flooded my vision and relaxed my senses, I fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 10

  The first thing I heard when waking up was the sound of Cyler’s angry voice.

  “How long has she been asleep, are you sure you didn’t find anything wrong with her? Do we need to call a neighboring healer?” He spoke fast and choppy. His grave voice made my heart hurt, and for a moment, I almost forgot about all the events that led to that moment.

  But, memories flooded me, and I realized that I wasn’t in my basement in the Stonewell home but somewhere Cyler was wounded. I shot up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, determined to figure out where I was and if he was ok. The last thing I remember was pulling up to his Providence.

  Once my eyes focused, I turned to see a room full of men staring intently at me. I was wearing a flimsy nightgown, and their intense focus made me pull the soft blankets up to my chin.

  Cyler grinned and limped his way over to the bed. He plopped down with a grunt and placed a hand on my knee. “You had me worried, babe.” The flirty nickname made me cringe, causing laughter to fill the small, dark, room.

  “Last I remember, you were the one they stabbed. What are you even doing up?” I scolded.

  A red-headed man that I vaguely remembered grabbed my wrist and checked my pulse.

  “Cy refused to rest until he knew you were okay,” he said kindly. I jerked my hand away from his cold fingers, earning myself a scowl from him. His hair was a red-brown, and his beard matched. Framed by thick lashes, his dark eyes looked kind. He was striking with thick lips and perfect, white teeth.

  “How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

  “Two days,” the red-headed man answered.

  “I’m Maverick, by the way.” He held his hand out, and years of practiced politeness urged me to shake it. As soon as our fingers touched, he gripped my wrists and went back to checking my pulse which was racing at all the attention focused on me. He was a sneaky one.

  “Any longer, and I would have been dead,” Cyler whispered. “Thanks for taking care of me and the other Walkers, Ash.”

  “What I want to know is why they left the women. If the scavengers wanted to take away our resources, why spare them? I don’t get it.” A toned, but slender, blond man with intriguing blue eyes in the back corner spoke up.

  “That's Kemper,” Cyler explained nonchalantly.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They had to have used transports to catch the train. I increased our speed to try and outrun them, but they never attempted to board the train again.” I thought out loud.

  The one Cyler called Kemper nodded as he absorbed what I told him.

  “They got what they wanted. 26 Walker Men were taken captive by them, not to mention a small fortune’s worth of gold,” Maverick said while releasing my wrist and tucking it under the soft covers.

  “What do they want with the Walkers?” I asked.

  “They’re newly vaccinated, non-disabled, men. They want what we wanted.” Cyler sighed.

  “You did the right thing, though,” Kemper added. “Increasing your speed to outrun them and get everyone here safely was the right thing to do.”

  My stomach growled loudly, causing Kemper, Maverick, and Cyler to look at me. I grinned sheepishly.

  “If you just show me to the kitchen, I can get started making . . . uh? What time is it?”

  “Noon” Kemper said simply.

  “Ah, well then I can get started for lunch, then. Do you have any preferences?” I casually asked while removing my covers and placing my feet on the wooden floor. I heard quiet moans and looked around the room, confused. None of the men met my eye, and I looked down to see that my nighttime slip was nearly see-through, revealing my chest and an eyeful of my bare back.

  “You aren’t lifting a finger, babe.” Cyler broke the tension. “I want your pretty, little head back on this pillow and relaxing for the rest of the day,” he ordered.

  “I’ll bring up some lunch in a few,” Kemper offered.

  “Thanks, that would be great. I-I don’t want to impose, though. Just some crackers would be sufficient.”

  “Ah, fuck. Don’t be one of those martyrs. We aren’t here to feel sorry for you. We find a problem and fix it. As of now, you’re hungry. Kemper has offered to fix it. Let's move on,” Cyler said forcefully. His brash nature never ceased to amaze me.

  The sound of a metal click caught my attention, and I looked to see Maverick clicking an ankle bracelet onto Cyler’s injured leg.

  “Just a precaution–it reads his vitals and will let me know if the infection comes back. We have him on round the clock antibiotics, but you can’t be too careful. It also serves as a tracking device. So, if you leave this bedroom–I’ll know. You need rest. Stay here for the day,” Maverick said with a cheery smile. I could sense that he enjoyed having the upper hand over Cyler, and Cyler’s expression hinted that it was rare that he released control.

  “A day here with the lovely Ashleigh. However will I survive?” Cyler grinned and rolled over to me then settled under the covers. He smelled like cinnamon and mint, and the combination wafted throughout the room. I rolled my eyes at him and felt slightly uncomfortable by his nearness. Kemper slipped off his sweater and threw it at me. I accepted it gratefully, and he turned on the large screen. Maverick and Kemper filtered out of the room. While Cyler nonchalantly flipped through channels, I laid back down and tried to wrap my head around all that had happened.

  While he sat in comfortable silence, watching the news, I felt hyper-aware of every move he made and breath he took.

  “I was worried about you,” I whispered.

  Cyler turned to face me with a sad expression on his face.

  “I’ve been an ass to you. I’m surprised you were so worried.” He shrugged. “Kemp told me that you looked wild when the
y pulled up. Almost like a true, Dormas woman.” He smiled.

  “I couldn't let a fan of my chocolate cake perish,” I replied with a chuckle. “Where are we?”

  “My brother and I live here with the other council leaders of our Providence. We built it a while back as the main hub for all the Providence. We don’t have the fancy government buildings that Galla has, but I like that my people feel welcome in my home.”

  I got up from the bed and walked over to a window dressed in sheer, white fabric, which coated the room in an incredibly bright light. I felt Cyler’s eyes on me, so I tugged Kemper’s sweater down lower so as not to show off too much of my legs. Obsessive modesty was something ingrained in me by Mistress Stonewell.

  I slowly opened the windows and gasped at the sheer beauty of the town. Logs and wood made up each building, and the main street that led up to the Black home seemed paved with a dirt and sand mixture. People loitered on the road, selling goods and exchanging pleasant conversations.

  “Wow. It's beautiful.” I exclaimed.

  “Be sure to tell Kemp. He’s led most of the teams that built our town. When Influenza X hit, we burned most of old town down to prevent the virus from spreading and rebuilt about ten miles east from the original town center,” he explained.

  I tore my eyes from the beautiful scenery and openly observed Cyler again. He looked pale. “You need to rest,” I said. “May I please excuse myself? I don’t know who helped me change and wiped the blood off of me, but I would very much enjoy taking a shower.” I wondered if Maverick was the one to change me into this nightie. The thought made me shiver.

  “Ah, sure. And, no worries. The seamstress that sewed me back together helped get you in here,” he assured me.

  The shower was amazing. Cyler warned me that there was a hot water timer of ten minutes, so I used every nanosecond to enjoy the heat that caressed my tired muscles. Kemper told me that a pile of clothes my size would be in the cabinet under the sink, but instead, all I saw was small scraps of fabric that couldn’t possibly pass for actual clothes.