WastelandRogue

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WastelandRogue Page 15

by Brenda Williamson


  She released her hold on his sleeve and they proceeded to the next shack.

  Inside, she pointed to the scruffy-looking man and said, “That’s Wirdle. He acted in charge. The fat, dirty one there is Milt. I think he’d be the best one to start with. It’ll get the marauders thinking but not too worried over the death of the simpleton. After him, we can drag out Wirdle. It’ll have them more nervous. Then we can use Hamner. He’ll look as if he put up the best fight of the lot and still lost. They’ll either come looking for us or run.”

  “I hope it’s that easy.” He bent down and grabbed Wirdle’s arms.

  Rye grabbed his legs. “This was your idea.”

  “Do you have a better plan?” He lifted the lifeless man.

  “No.” Rye let out a low grunt as she hoisted her end of the man up.

  “Then we go with what we have.”

  “And if it doesn’t work or something goes wrong?”

  “We improvise.” He backed through the doorway and stopped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just deciding where to go.”

  “Great,” she groaned, shifting her hold and putting a strain on his grip. “You could have decided that before we lugged this dead fellow out here.”

  “We’ll go over there by that old well. It’ll look as if he went for a drink and was surprised by a lamian.”

  “A marauder that drinks water when the wine is flowing tonight as heavy as a river in a storm?” she questioned with disbelief.

  “You have a better place?” He trudged backward not waiting for an answer.

  Rye shuffled forward. At the well, they both dropped the body on the ground. Sevrin looked over the side of the planked well frame. Too dark to see the depth. He picked up a rock and tossed it in.

  “Guess what?” He let out a short laugh.

  “What?” She looked over the side.

  “No water. We shouldn’t be surprised. There’s never any water around when you want some.”

  “Over there.” Rye pointed toward another shack. “Those look like rain barrels.”

  Sevrin bend over at the same time Rye did and they picked Milt up again. She stumbled walking backward.

  “You want to turn around,” he asked.

  “I got it.” She kept going.

  He waited for her to put down Milt’s legs and then he flipped the dead man over the one barrel, making it look as if he didn’t see the attack coming. Then he motioned for Rye to head back to the shack. He didn’t like trusting that someone might come along, so after he saw Rye get to the shack, he gave a loud, painful shout.

  “That should stir someone out of their chair,” he said, running toward her.

  She held open the shack door and he dove inside.

  “Someone could have seen you,” she chastised.

  “There’s not much night left. Once the sun comes up, we’ll lose a lot of the scariness of the situation.”

  “But how do we get this fellow out of here?”

  He looked at the big man on the floor and shrugged. “He is too big for us to tote easily. I say we leave him right here and—”

  Rye pulled him across the room. “Shhh, someone’s coming.”

  They squeezed behind a stack of crates in the corner and hunched down. Sevrin put his hand back, ready to pull his gun out of the holster if needed. The door opened. He tensed. Rye went completely silent. He didn’t even hear her breathing.

  “Here’s Wirdle,” a man said. “He’s done for too.”

  “We better tell Orland that some of those lamians that escaped have come back.” Another man spoke.

  “Y-yeah and then I’m get-getting out of here,” the other replied, his voice trembling.

  The clomping of feet on the wood floor faded and then vanished, suggesting the two men left.

  Sevrin slowly righted himself, looking over the crates. “All clear,” he told Rye.

  She backed out of the tight space first. “I’m all for that one fellow’s suggestion,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “We’ll sneak around behind the shacks to the one I saw Orland in. We need to hear what he has to say.”

  Rye’s hand on his back let him know she followed closely. They kept their movements slow and quiet. In the dark, neither of them anticipated a rock would trip her up and push him into the wall.

  A thud resounded.

  They froze.

  Of course sound would be louder to them. Was it loud enough to gain attention from anyone else?

  “Keep moving,” Rye whispered, nudging him.

  “Someone might have heard us.”

  “That makes a good reason not to be here.”

  “I’m just listening, making sure we don’t run into anyone coming to check.”

  She heaved a heavy frustrated sigh.

  He waited to the count of ten and continued. They passed another shack and then another and moved to the side. From there, they heard voices.

  “First we found Milt dead and then Wirdle. I won’t be next,” one man said.

  “What do you have to say, Toddas?” It sounded like Orland. “Have those lamians who lived here returned to kill us?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve had me at your side day and night. There’s no way for me to know anything other than what you know. After the way you and your gang tortured and murdered the lamians that didn’t get away, I’d not blame them for seeking vengeance.”

  “See, those lamians aim to kill us all,” someone grumbled.

  Sevrin moved around the corner of the building, looking for a better spot to eavesdrop. The more he knew, the better he could plan. The leader of the camp, Toddas, didn’t speak of the lamians using them as food, so Sevrin had to assume he never received the message Ev was to pass on. He hoped Orland wasn’t smart enough to question Toddas’ empathetic tone for the lamians.

  “They’ve suggested leaving,” Sevrin relayed in a hushed tone to Rye.

  “I can hear,” she whispered back.

  “And you think we should just run off?” Orland asked.

  “Of course I do,” Leach replied to Orland. “There are other camps for us to get cozy in.”

  “I like this one just fine. We stay. You and Felder stand watch outside the rest of the night. And if you don’t want those lamians getting you, I suggest you don’t try sneaking out of camp on your own.”

  “Come on, Orland. You can’t put us out there. We’ll be the next ones those fangers kill.”

  “Stop whining, Leach. If you stay alert, you’ll hear them coming,” Orland said. “If they do come, you warn the rest of us.”

  Sevrin took Rye’s hand and pulled her away from the building. “It’s time to get Hamner in place.”

  “Do you really think one more body will get Orland to change his mind?” Rye asked.

  “What other option do we have?”

  “I don’t know. It’s obvious Orland doesn’t scare so easily.”

  They returned to the shack where they had left Hamner. Sevrin paced the room, undecided where to put the man. It wasn’t as if the camp had many locations where no one lingered or where anyone might venture.

  “What if we give them a show?” Rye suggested.

  He turned toward her, interested in what she had in mind. It wasn’t as if he was coming up with anything. “What kind of show can we give them that doesn’t put us in the thick of that horde?”

  “Let me clarify that by saying not we, but me. I can stage a performance of killing Hamner.”

  “You? Killing Hamner?”

  Rye nodded.

  “You’re forgetting, Hamner is already dead.” He watched Rye pull off her jacket and toss it to the corner.

  She pulled her shirt from the waistband and then pushed up her sleeve. She bit into her forearm.

  “That won’t bring him back to life,” he reminded her, not understanding what she had in mind.

  “I’m just making him fit the part.” She smiled, transferring blood from her arm to Hamner’s ne
ck. “No one has to see the fight. A little shouting, screaming and some ruckus should provide enough for their imagination.”

  Sevrin nodded, agreeing it did have merit. “Where are we going to take him?”

  “We’re not moving him at all.” She rose. “Take off your coat.”

  She rushed the process, grabbing the collar and helping pull the garment down his arms.

  “Now what?” He threw the coat over hers in the corner.

  “Stage the fight. I’ll go out behind the shack while you make a commotion to get Leach and Felder headed this way. Then I’ll attack you from behind. We’ll have a scuffle, with you stumbling back into this shack. I’ll take off, back around the building and sneak my way into Tari’s shack. You hide—” She turned and looked around. “Better yet, this shack has a window. You climb out it and I’ll meet you out back.”

  “Why don’t we both climb out after our fight?” He didn’t like her going outside alone.

  “As scared as Leach and Felder are, do you really think they’d come in here? I have to make them think the threat is gone. The only sure way of doing that is if they see me leave.”

  “What if they notice Hamner doesn’t have bite marks?” He had to think through all the angles.

  “Do you honestly believe those two are going to exam him?” She walked around and tipped over a chair, sat objects on the floor and spilled contents from containers. “They’ll be racing back to Orland, begging to leave this place.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I know I am.” She went to the window and pushed open the shutters. “Ready?”

  He was and he wasn’t. However, they didn’t have a lot of night left and her plan had a feasibility he liked. He nodded and went to the door.

  “Give me to the count of ten and then go outside and attract their attention.” She climbed up on a chair and hoisted herself through the opening.

  He counted. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.” He pulled open the door and stepped out.

  Sevrin wasn’t sure anyone watched but he had to play a part from the start. Pretending he was inebriated on fermented dandelion, he stumbled into a large metal washtub hanging on the building. It clanked against the wood siding.

  Rye sprang out from around the corner and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Even knowing what she was going to do, he was startled. He shouted as loud as possible during their fake struggle.

  “Make it louder,” she coaxed. “The more of them that see us, the better.”

  “Come here and bite me, then.” He tugged her close. “I mean pretend to bite me.”

  She nuzzled his neck, brushing her lips back and forth as if she might kiss him. He saw the movement of people coming their way. No doubt Orland’s men were in the crowd.

  For the show, he forced Rye back. She charged and shoved him through the doorway, back into the shack. He cried out, making a painful sound as if dying.

  “Go.” He pushed her toward the door, not wanting the men to get too close to her with a bout of courage.

  Rye ran out.

  He grabbed their coats, tossed them through the window and then followed. The opening wasn’t as big as it appeared. After wiggling through, he fell on the ground.

  Rye’s outcry had him jumping up onto his feet and sprinting toward her shrieks. His heart felt as if it would leave his chest, it pounded so hard.

  How quickly a good plan can get shot to hell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rye didn’t expect anyone to come after her, especially such a small man. He had strength, just not the weight behind it to overpower her. The knife he plunged into her shoulder could have been an equalizer.

  “At least this one wasn’t dipped in allium.” She breathed a relieving sigh as she threw the man off her.

  “Are you sure?” Sevrin’s voice startled her.

  She jerked the knife from her shoulder. “It’s becoming the first thing I think of when attacked, but I didn’t smell that pungent odor and I don’t feel the weakening effects.”

  He put his hand lightly on her arm, a light tingling skittered up her limb.

  “It’s healing,” she said, shrugging off his touch, turning her face away so he didn’t see her blood-infused eyes.

  He grabbed her arm again and pulled her around. His hand appeared near her face, the ghostly shadow of fingers waved slightly. “How bad is your eyesight like this?”

  She flinched at the quick movement he made to test her vision.

  “Well, I’m not blind.” She turned her head and spit the taste of blood from her mouth. Her best defense against someone stronger was always biting them. Unfortunately, the slightest taste aroused her senses—all of them. Everything from hunger to anger to lust roiled through her. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes.” She pushed Sevrin aside.

  At the back of the building, while Sevrin grabbed their coats, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The unwelcome feeling of her hunger-lust made her shudder. Sevrin knew how she reacted to human blood. Her darkened eyes were a big fat reminder. How did she explain to him all the sensations she experienced or did she need to? She had never hated the effect more than now, when it might upset Sevrin. Would he tire of her uncontrollable mood changes?

  Then Sevrin was there, showing her they hadn’t yet. He stroked her arm, soothing her soul. Calmness washed through her quicker than normal.

  “Are you all right?” He touched her cheek and rubbed away what she suspected would be spots of blood.

  She lifted her lashes and looked into his eyes, filled with kindness and caring that she readily welcomed. He seemed too good to be true and that’s what kept her in debate with her doubts. What man met a female and right off treated her so special? He didn’t know if she was a killer or crazy. The smartest villains could charm water out of rocks.

  Sevrin guided her from the building. They crept along in the shadows until they got back to the shack on the end. After sneaking inside, they listened to the shouts of men giving orders or demanding to know what was going on.

  “They’re upset,” she said, pleased by the results of her plan. Nothing she liked better than to have something turn out how she hoped.

  “The word is ‘terrified’,” Sevrin said, flashing a triumphant glance her way.

  As the sun came up, light filtered through the weathered boards on the thin wall. She moved closer and tried looking out between them to see what was happening. The angle was all wrong. Sevrin too showed a need to see out. He opened the door slightly.

  “What are they doing?” She walked over to him.

  “Can’t tell. A group of them has congregated by that shack Orland occupies down at the end. I assume they’ll toss around arguments for leaving, for staying or for hunting us down.”

  “Do you think they’ll search the camp?” She leaned and looked over his shoulder. “It might occur to some of them that we were helped. They could threaten people into talking. What if we’ve put Ev, Tari, her father and others in a worse situation?”

  “They were already neck deep in feces, Rye. The marauders killed all the lamians who couldn’t escape. They killed Ev’s mate and Tari’s mother. No one has the perfect choice. At least we gave the survivors some hope.”

  Rye watched the band of thieves and cutthroats milling about in a tight mass. “They do appear too agitated to do anything constructive.”

  “Except from what little I saw and heard from Orland when I was sneaking around by his shack before, he’s not stupid. He knows how to handle this bunch of thugs and he’ll not go as quickly as we’d like.”

  “Then maybe we should get out of here.” Rye spun away and leaned against the wall. “If we’re found, those who helped us will be in more trouble than if we’re not found at all.”

  Sevrin turned his head and looked back at her. Lamian men lacked a lot of facial hair. The scruff on Sevrin’s face had grown thicker, giving him a ruggedly masculine, unconquerably confident appearance. Whi
le humans were the weaker species, they had a fight in them to survive. Yet again Sevrin proved he leaned more toward his human side.

  “You said Tari hid under the floorboards. Was it an old mineshaft below?” He closed the door and walked around tapping his booted foot on each board.

  “No.”

  He kept searching the floor. “Some shafts have multiple tunnels going quite far.”

  She went to the corner and picked up the boards. “This is where she stayed.”

  Sevrin got down on his hands and knees and looked beyond. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Don’t you think if there was a shaft, Tari’s father would have used that to hide his daughter?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  A creak from the door caused Sevrin to spring up from his crouched position. He stepped in front of Rye when the door opened.

  “Tari.” Rye went to her and Ev. “What are you doing here?”

  Rye looked up at the man who entered behind them and stepped back.

  Sevrin stopped her with his hands on her waist. “It’s all right, he’s Tari’s father.”

  “I’m Toddas Gray,” the man said. “My daughter and sister told me how you two helped us.”

  “I’m Rye Sanborn and this is Sevrin Renault. Have we helped?” she asked, not knowing what was going on in the camp.

  “You helped a great deal.” Ev smiled. “They’re leaving.”

  “Orland didn’t want to leave,” Toddas added. “But his men are rattled. He had to appease them, so he said they’d go hunt and kill lamians. I’m afraid that’s just a temporary reprieve for us. When they get tired they’ll be back.”

  “Sevrin.” Rye turned around. “I didn’t want to send them on a rampage.”

  “Their goal has always been to kill,” Toddas said. “Humans will do but they live for slaughtering lamians. They did it while they were here. They’ll do it elsewhere. However, they’ll be doing it with four fewer men, by my count.”

  His reminder of her kills made Rye put a hand to her mouth. Was there blood on her face? She hoped Sevrin would have told her, but maybe he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

  “Excuse me,” she said, going to the water basin and grabbing a rag.

 

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