The Dead Saga (Book 5): Odium V

by Claire C. Riley

  “Butcher, which way?” Mikey says, pulling the truck to a stop and nudging the other man.

  Butcher sits up and looks around us. “Goddamn, didn’t expect to see this place again.”

  “I know the feeling,” Mikey replies.

  Butcher turns to look at him, a strange look crossing his face momentarily. “I bet.”

  “Are we close?” I ask.

  “Yeah, another mile or so. Turn left here,” he says and then leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “Shit is hurting like a motherfucker.”

  Mikey starts to drive and I look down at the bandages around Butcher’s middle, noticing that they’re pretty blood-soaked now. I take off my jacket and fold it up, and then reach over and press it to his stomach. Butcher cracks an eye open and watches me for a moment before his hand comes to rest on top of mine.

  “Gonna make a good old lady for this brother one day,” he says with a heavy breath, his chest wheezing painfully.

  “We’re not, umm,” I start, noticing that Mikey keeps looking over at me. “It’s not like that with us.”

  “Well I reckon it should be like that,” Butcher says. “Brother’s got it bad for you.” He looks me up and down appreciatively. “Can’t say I blame him, either.”

  “Dude,” Mikey says, looking across at us both, and Butcher laughs and coughs at the same time.

  “Could really do with getting back to my compound quickly,” Butcher says, ignoring Mikey.

  “I think we’re here,” Mikey replies.

  Butcher looks out the window and I follow his gaze, taking in the compound in all its glory. It’s big, I’ll give him that, with metal fencing all the way around it and huge wooden spikes pointing outwards and forming a further perimeter. Zeds are stuck to the spikes, impaled as they’ve tried to get close.

  The place is lit by torches staked into the ground at various places, the flames dancing in the early evening breeze. The wooden gates open and several bikers ride out to greet us, and Mikey stops the truck and holds his hands up.

  “Better do the same, pretty thing,” Butcher says, coughing some more. “Just till I speak to them.”

  I nod okay and hold my hands up.

  “Butcher? Is that you, brother?” one of the bikers asks, his gun aimed at the truck. His hair is cut into a long Mohawk and flops over to one side.

  “The one and only, Prez,” Butcher calls back and then starts to cough again. “Could do with a little help here.”

  The first biker whistles and makes a hand gesture, and the other two bikers ride closer, pulling up just in front of the truck and shutting their bikes off before climbing off. They walk toward the truck with their guns raised, taking in Mikey and me suspiciously.

  “Who’s that you’re with, Butcher?” the biker closest to my door says.

  “They’re with me, they’re cool. The bitch in the back needs to go into storage though. And she’s got a mouth on her, you’ve been warned, brothers.”

  My door opens and the biker looks in at me. He’s a mean-looking guy, with a long scar cutting over one eyelid and up to his hairline. He smiles, showing a mouth full of gold teeth. “Time to get out, beautiful,” he says to me.

  I look across at Butcher, who nods, and I place my trust in this man that I barely know, leaving my gun and my death stick behind as I jump out of the truck. I look back in at Mikey and see that he’s getting out of his door. More bikers have ridden out to the truck; some have headed to the back and some are moving around to help get Butcher out of the truck.

  One man climbs into the back before quickly looking back out at me and aiming his gun at my forehead. “What the fuck happened?”

  “What is it?” the gold-toothed biker asks. “You good, Butcher?”

  “Not really, but it’s not their doing. They helped me,” Butcher calls back.

  “Now I know you’re lying. No one in their right mind would save your sorry ass!” the gold-toothed biker says laughingly. I want to tell him that his joke sucks ass, but I don’t, of course.

  Three men help get Butcher out of the truck, all of them looking worried when they see the state of him.

  “Keep the pressure on his stomach,” I call as they start to carry him inside.

  Another man is wheeling Clare into the compound, while another has his gun trained on her. She looks petrified, her eyes wide as she looks around, but she keeps her mouth shut, obviously sensing, like I do, that these men are not messing around.

  “Let’s get inside,” the gold-toothed biker says to me, poking me in the side with his gun.

  I start walking, and I notice that Mikey is walking inside too, though he’s further up ahead than me. I want to keep my survival percentage at fifty percent or more, but going by how friendly and accommodating these men seem to be, I’m not sure that’s possible.

  Once inside the gate, Mikey and I are taken to a small metal outhouse and told to sit on plastic chairs and wait. There’s only a couple of small candles for light, so I can’t make out much about the building. And I’m guessing that there’s someone on the door so there’s no escaping. Not that I want to. Not yet, anyway.

  “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you?” Mikey asks, his gaze scanning me from head to toe.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” I look away from him, not be able to stand the intensity of his stare right now. “Do you think he’ll screw us over? Butcher?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I went back for the weapons. Tim had showed me a room that was full of them, plus he had the truck keys. Heard a call for help in another room, and when I looked in I found this guy—Butcher. Wasn’t sure what to do at first. He looked to be in too bad shape to survive, but then I knew I couldn’t leave him behind.” I look back at Mikey and see he’s looking at his hands. He shrugs. “Couldn’t bear the thought of what he must have been through. The things he must have seen.”

  “You did good,” I say.

  “Did I?” he replies, looking back at me. “Seems to me like everywhere I go and everyone I touch gets hurt and dies.”

  There’s so much sadness in his eyes that I feel like I’m drowning looking into them. I can tell he wants to say more, but he stops himself, holding back all the thoughts and feelings that he has buried deep inside.

  The door opens and a couple of men walk in. One of them is standing front and center, and both Mikey and I focus in on him since he seems to be the one in charge. He grabs a chair and sits down, and then he runs his dirty hands through his long hair before pulling a cigarette from the top of his ear and lighting it. He takes a long drag before speaking.

  “My boy Butcher says you saved his life,” he says, looking at Mikey.

  “I did.”

  “Says that the bitch in the wheelchair and her husband messed him up real good.”

  “He’s right about that too.”

  The biker takes another long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the floor. When he looks up, it’s through the smoke he exhales, but his gray eyes find me even so.

  “Name’s Drag 98’ and I’m the president of the Devil’s Rejects. Looks like you two sons a’ bitches fell in with the right crew, don’t it?” He laughs low in his chest and stands back up. “Let’s set you up somewhere to sleep for the night. Maybe get some food in your bellies.”

  He turns and starts to walk away, and Mikey and I look across at each other before quickly standing up and following him out of the room.

  The other bikers in the room follow closely behind, and even though I can see that they still have their weapons, I notice that they’re not aiming them at us anymore.

  “Can we have our weapons?” I ask.

  Mikey glares daggers at me, but I ignore him.

  Drag laughs again. “Nope.”

  “But they’re ours!”

  “Not anymore.”

  “We saved your friend,” I snap.

  Drag stops walking and turns around to fac
e me. “Well now, that still remains to be seen.”

  He bites his bottom lip and looks me over, and I notice that Mikey steps closer to my side.

  Drag’s gaze flits to Mikey. “Got yourself a fine woman here, if not a little feisty. I prefer them more amenable myself, but you never can be too fussy, what with the world the way it is.”

  I clench my fist, readying myself to punch Drag in the mouth if he tries to touch me, but instead he smiles and turns back around.

  “Snake, show them to the guest room,” Drag calls over his shoulder. “I’ll see you two in the morning and we’ll see how our friend Butcher is doing, shall we?”

  Another biker sidles up next to me. “This way,” he says and leads us in a different direction from Drag. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

  Mikey walks next to me, so close I can feel his body heat. I keep looking around us to try and get a better sense of this place—how big it is, exits, entrances and such—but night has fallen now and it’s hard to know which way is which.

  Eventually Snake stops at a small trailer. He opens the door and stands to one side to allow us to go inside. I climb the steps first, wary of everything.

  “There’s food on the side and some water. I’ll be back in the morning to fetch you both.” He turns to walk away, but only manages two steps before he looks back at us. “Thanks for bringing him back,” he says, and then turns and walks away.

  Mikey and I share a look before resigning ourselves and going inside the trailer. Mikey locks the door after us and I quickly find candles on the table and a lighter. I light the candle and place it back in the middle of the table, and then we check out the trailer quickly and thoroughly to make sure there are no hidden surprises.

  Quickly satisfied, we both sit down with heavy sighs and stare into the darkness of the trailer.

  “What do you think about this place?” I ask Mikey, my voice quiet.

  I’m hungry and thirsty, but I don’t trust the food or water that’s been left for us, and clearly neither does Mikey since he hasn’t touched it either. He’s sitting close to me again, his leg pressing against mine, and when I turn to look at him, I find him staring at me with a look on his face that makes my body shiver.

  He doesn’t answer my question. Instead he reaches over, puts his hand on the back of my head, and pulls me in for a kiss so hard and so powerful that my whole body tingles and goes weak.

  I don’t know what it means to him, but to me it means everything, so I kiss him back, allowing his hands to roam my body. I climb onto his lap, letting our kiss deepen, and I forget about where we are, what we’ve just been through, and if we’ll even survive tomorrow. And instead I focus on him, and us, and the now, and every moment that we create together.

  I get lost in his touch, in the way his mouth feels on mine, and the weight of his body on me as he carries me to the bedroom and lays me down on the bed, and I remember what it’s like to be alive again.

  For too long it’s felt like I’m holding my breath underwater, the pressure pushing against me, suffocating me while I wait for the end. But right now, here, with him, I can finally breathe again.

  Odds of survival? One hundred percent, because there’s no way I’m losing this now that I’ve found it.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Morning sunlight filters in through the curtains and I slowly open my eyes. I reach to the side of me, expecting to feel nothing but an empty bed, but instead I feel Mikey’s body next to me. He stirs and reaches for me, pulling my body close to his, and I get lost in the warmth of his arms for another ten minutes or so.

  “We need to get up,” I finally mumble, hating myself for breaking the moment but also knowing that this gang will be knocking on our door any moment.

  God, I hope that Butcher lived through the night.

  We need him and his word to keep us safe and also to help rescue Phil.

  “I know,” Mikey says, but he makes no move to get up, and so I don’t either. Instead we lay in each other’s arms, our naked bodies entwined around one another.

  I listen to the noises outside the trailer; the walls so thin that they may as well not be there. People—men—are moving around, the sound of their deep voices seeping through the walls. Mikey kisses the back of my neck, and despite my fear of this new place and of the dangers that lie ahead of us, I find myself smiling. Because how can I not?

  The sound of Butcher’s deep voice is what finally makes us move. I hear him long before he arrives at the trailer door and starts rattling the handle and calling Mikey’s name.

  Mikey swings his legs out of bed and slides his jeans back on before grabbing his T-shirt and heading out of the room. I sit up and am reaching down to the floor for my own clothes when Mikey comes back in and swiftly reaches down and tilts my face up to his, and then kisses me softly before letting go and leaving the room again.

  My smile grows even bigger.

  I dress quickly and head to the main part of the trailer, where Mikey is sitting with Butcher and Drag—the guy from the previous night. Drag is the only one standing up, one hand on the low roof of the trailer and the other pulling the curtain back so he can look outside. I honestly don’t like either man, but if I had to place bets on who would hang us out to dry the quickest it would be Drag. The man seems so unpredictable and crazy, with a darkness surrounding him that puts my teeth on edge.

  “Mornin’, sweetheart,” Drag says, turning around as I walk into the room, his gaze appraising me.

  My hands finish off tying my hair into a messy bun and I glance at Mikey, but he’s staring down at his hands, his face screwed up in deep thought.

  “Surprised to see you up and about,” I say to Butcher, trying to sound as calm and collected as I can—though I am genuinely surprised to see him sitting here. The way he was last night, I wasn’t even sure if he’d be alive this morning, never mind him being up and about. But I mostly say the statement so I don’t have to reply to Drag, or even give him a second glance because he’s still looking at me, his eyes moving over my body like I’m a piece of meat. He is not a good man, that much is certain.

  “Ain’t nothin’ can keep me down,” Butcher replies with a grin. He’s pale and sickly looking, and the way his pupils are dilated, it’s obvious that he’s on something to manage the pain, but who can blame him?

  “Maybe if they would have taken a leg instead of that arm though, huh?” Drag laughs and lights up a cigarette before sitting down.

  Butcher laughs along, but it’s clear that he’s not happy about the comment, and I can’t blame him. I’m pretty sure I’d be freaking out if I’d just lost my arm. But what’s also obvious, even to me, is that Drag only said it to assert his authority over Butcher. Men are lame like that.

  “Well, the psycho bitch was aiming for that next, I reckon, but thanks to this man,” Butcher says, slapping Mikey on the back, “I’m safe and sound.”

  Both Drag and Butcher are big men, and their voices are loud—too loud for such a small space. I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic with so much testosterone flying around the place. And I’m worried about Mikey. He’s barely said anything since yesterday. He seems weighed down, a heaviness pulling him under, and I don’t know how to help him. I woke up feeling like the sun was shining for the first time in three years, and I hoped that Mikey felt the same way. But looking at him now, I can see that’s not the case.

  “What did you do with her?” Mikey asks without looking up. His hands are knotted together in his lap, unmoving but tense.

  “You ever watch that movie Pulp Fiction?” Drag asks casually.

  “Yeah.” Michael frowns.

  “Going to be giving her a taste of her own medicine, just like they do in that movie,” Butcher says without hesitation. “Reckon the old bag’s got a few months of pain to suffer through before I’m done with her, though. You can have a go if you like.” Butcher laughs and Drag joins in, and god I’m glad that she’s suffering so much, because she deserves it, but
the glee in these men’s eyes frightens me somewhat fierce. I almost wish I would have just shot her in the head and gotten it over with.

  “No, thanks,” Mikey replies, his expression solemn.

  “No? Why the fuck not?” Drag asks, stamping his cigarette butt out on the floor. He stands over Mikey and glares down at him. “Bitch did a number on my boy here. Seems like she fucked you up too, would have thought you’d be wanting to take a slice outa her. Or are you scared of getting your hands dirty, boy?”

  Mikey finally comes out of his reverie and looks up at Drag. A small line has formed between his eyebrows. He stands up, a scowl fixed on his face.

  Drag laughs and glances over to me and then back to Mikey. He’s not in the least bit fazed by Mikey’s show.

  “You want me to show your bitch what a real man is?” Drag smirks and runs his tongue across his teeth.

  The air seems to have been sucked from the room, and I have no idea what’s going to happen next. I look over at Butcher to see if he’s going to do anything to defuse the situation, but from the blasé look on his face, that’s not going to happen.

  “Mikey?” I say his name quietly, hoping to get through to him, but it possibly makes the situation worse as Drag’s smirk deepens.

  Mikey and Drag are at a stalemate, with both of them glaring at one another. I can feel my blood racing, my heartbeat slamming against my chest as I decide what I’d prefer—dying or being Drag’s bitch.

  “All right, can we get back to business now you two cocks have shown your balls to each other?” Butcher says, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. He looks over at me. “I suggest you put on some more fuckin’ clothes, unless you want to get fucked sideways.”

  I look down at myself, not really sure what the problem is but ready to take action. I’m wearing a thin T-shirt and jeans, so it’s not like I’m running around in my underwear. Regardless, I take one last look at Mikey and Drag and head back to the bedroom to grab my jacket.