by Sean Platt
Gallus stood beside him, eager for a reaction.
For praise, like a child.
Sighing, Sutherland finally turned to his second in command. “I don’t know. It seems a bit too . . . formal.”
The young man’s face nearly melted.
“But, sir, I thought you wanted formal. I thought you were tired of the informal nature of the dining hall meetings. That is what you said, right?”
Sutherland sighed, “Yes, yes, I know what I said, but you were supposed to know what I meant.”
Gallus looked like he wanted to say something but knew better than to cross Sutherland. Gallus, just 19 when Sutherland handpicked him as Hydrangea’s second—to replace the traitor Katrina—was young, strong, and well respected among the citizens. But he was still a damned kid, which made him half idiot, and Sutherland should’ve known better than to trust a brat still missing the tit with details as important as a throne room.
Sutherland approached the throne and ran his hands along the chair’s ornate golden frame and dark-blue cushioned seat and back.
“Is this real gold?”
“Of course, sir.”
Sutherland traced his fingers along the carved laurels. “It is quite nice.”
“Have a seat, sir. I trust that you’ll find it to your liking.”
Sutherland sat.
It did feel good.
Though not good enough to give Gallus his praise.
“Not bad.”
He looked out around the room, imagining it filled with his citizens learning to respect—and fear—him again.
Yes, they were still The Patriots of The New Revolution, part of a community spread across The Barrens in nine separate camps. But Sutherland was no longer the leader. Not since he’d allowed Katrina to escape with Ana and Liam. In a vote by The Council of Patriots, which he’d once led, Sutherland had been replaced at Sagebrush by that foolish old bastard Jeffries. Jeffries wasn’t fit to lead a raid, let alone lead The Patriots. He was stuck in the past, and the way Sutherland saw it, too afraid to lead The Patriots in the bold direction they needed to go if they were ever going to live as truly free men and women.
But The Council had made its decision, and there was no recourse for Sutherland. Jeffries had the audacity to say, “You’re lucky to stay as Hydrangea’s leader. Remember that, and get your camp in order.”
Ever since Katrina’s betrayal, too many people had trafficked in whispers, wondering at Sutherland’s effectiveness. They didn’t think he heard them, but he hadn’t risen to the top without having ears everywhere.
When Oswald followed her flight a few months later, the chatter grew louder. Some idiots even considered holding an emergency “election” of all things, to select another leader for the camp.
Of course no one was bold enough to approach him and suggest such a thing. They were still fearful of crossing Sutherland—for now. He had to do something before the rabble began to clamor more vocally for his removal.
He had to make a statement. This throne room was a start. Soon enough they’d have other reasons to talk.
The throne room was ostentatious, but it wasn’t as if Sutherland was a stranger to extravagance. As he sat on his throne, he liked it—and his place above the people even more. In the worlds before The Old Nation, throne rooms were necessary, providing a majestic setting for a ruler to display his power. A king could hold official court and grant audiences to the rabble, award high honors and offices to the worthy. Sutherland would use his to prove his station.
“This will do quite nicely, Gallus.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gallus stood as if waiting for additional praise, rather than leaving like Sutherland wanted.
“Yes?” Sutherland said.
“Well, sir, if you’re ready, Captain Horrance has news for you.”
“Oh?” Sutherland clapped. “Then bring him to me.”
Gallus left quickly to fetch Horrance. Moments later, the two men returned to the throne.
Horrance, a large ogre of a man with a smooshed face even a mother couldn’t love, spoke first. He appeared to be a big, dim man, but he wasn’t nearly as stupid as most people believed—though nowhere near as smart as Gallus—which was why Sutherland liked having Horrance in charge of his soldiers, The Black Guard.
“Greetings, Sir.” He bowed his head slightly.
“Yes, Horrance?”
“I was out in The Barrens, over near Quadrant 11, and saw something.”
Sutherland let out a long sigh, “Please, Horrance, can you be more specific, or do you delight in prolonging the agony of each moment I spend in your presence?”
“I saw Katrina and the escapees.”
“Ana and the boy?” Sutherland leaned forward in his throne.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you didn’t attempt to capture them?”
Horrance said, “They were with bandits, sir.”
“Bandits! Hah, I should’ve expected that whore Katrina to scurry back with vermin. And? Do you have a location?”
Horrance smiled like he was about to deliver some good news. If he had had a tail, Sutherland was sure it would’ve been wagging. “I do, sir. I followed them to what appears to be an old train station.”
“A train station? Are you sure it’s not another installation like this? Not another of the nine camps?” Sutherland thought that maybe this idiot was stupid enough not to realize that their base was connected to a train station.
“It’s not one of ours. And I don’t know if it’s just an old station or maybe a base, sir.”
“How many bandits?”
“I can’t say for certain until I can go back. I was on my own and didn’t want to risk capture before you had word.”
“Good job, Horrance.”
Horrance smiled his big, stupid grin and showed Sutherland his messed-up teeth. Sutherland tried not to let the man’s ugliness sour his appetite for dinner.
“Gallus? Please take Horrance to the whores. Let him have his pick—save for mine.”
“Yes, sir,” Gallus said.
“Thank you, sir.” Horrance smile grew bigger and uglier.
Sutherland tried not to imagine the beast on top of any woman, fouling them with what he imagined would be a misshapen cock. “You’re welcome. Come back later and we’ll plot our next course of action against the traitors.”
As Gallus escorted Horrance out, Sutherland sat in his throne room, alone with his excitement.
It wouldn’t be long before he’d capture the traitors. Once he had Ana back in his care, he would hold all the cards and ensure his return to head of The Patriots.
He smiled, deciding to avail himself of his whores.
CHAPTER 12—ANA LOVECRAFT
Liam and Ana left Oswald and Katrina behind, heading off to their own room while the doctor led Katrina to the one he’d promised her just before dinner. She would be on the other side of the tunnel, a loud yell away if needed.
Her heart began to beat faster as Liam closed the door behind them. They were alone, and things would be good. She wondered if it would be different with him missing his eye, if maybe he would be self-conscious of his wound when he didn’t need to be. Liam was like that, fierce and bold, then suddenly shy without warning. He was a wonderful lover, though Ana really had no one to compare him to.
Alone in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror, pinched her cheeks, and again thought of her mother. Ana remembered her mom’s prettiest nighties, the ones her she had said were her father’s favorites. She remembered her mother telling her that one day she would have her own favorite nighties, more grown up than the little girl ones in her dresser then, and that her man’s favorites would probably be her favorites too. She remembered feeling excited. Now Ana wondered if she’d ever have a favorite nighty or even a shabby dresser to keep it folded inside.
She finished in the bathroom, then emerged in a long white bed shirt as Liam was stepping into the room. He closed the door and turned to Ana.<
br />
“Where’d you go?”
“Katrina came back, right after you went into the bathroom. She wanted to let me know she’d be sleeping with one eye open tonight. She thinks Egan might try pulling a fast one.”
“Do you think he will? Try something, I mean.”
“No,” Liam shook his head. “I don’t. I think he was telling the truth. He’ll let us go.” He sat on the bed beside her, peeling off his shirt. “Are you sure you want to come?”
“What?”
She didn’t want to talk. She wanted his lips on hers, then everywhere else. She wanted no words to interrupt them.
“That little girl could die.”
“So could Adam.” Ana traced her fingers along Liam’s skin, circling his nipple then dipping down past his waistline to tease him. “Please, don’t make me feel worse than I already do. Can we not talk . . . now?”
Liam opened his mouth, then swallowed his words like a good boy. He said, “You’re right,” then moved in to kiss her.
As his mouth found Ana’s and his hands cupped her breasts, months of tension melted to nothing. Liam pressed himself against her, lowering her down to the mattress and pulling the blankets over their heads like a tarp.
“I love you, Liam,” Ana panted.
He mashed his lips hard against hers, making love to her mouth for a moment with his tongue.
“I love you too,” Liam said—a long time later, when they were finally done.
Ana felt herself falling asleep, naked, his warmth against her skin.
This was the way it should be. Forever.
She usually fell asleep slowly, most of the time wondering what the next day would bring. But here in the warmth of the tunnels, lying safe in a bed, breathing long shallow breaths beside Liam, an ounce of worry seemed like a pound too much. Next to Liam, everything seemed more than OK. She had to get Adam, then everything else would fall into place.
Her father had always told her to enjoy the moments they had, because one day they’d be gone, no matter what.
Good advice she should finally start taking.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring? We are here now. Together.
Ana fell asleep.
When she woke, Liam was gone.
CHAPTER 13—ADAM LOVECRAFT
“Tell the truth,” Adam said. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
Colton peeked out the door and into the street. “I don’t see any zombies and the building is just a few more blocks ahead.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“No.” Colton shook his head without meeting Adam’s stare. “Probably not. But if we don’t try, we don’t stand a chance.”
Adam wondered if they stood a chance anyway. Colton had already told him what he expected to find. Based on what they’d seen earlier and the movement of the zombies, it seemed like the swarms were all headed toward the tallest building. Zelle was at the top. There would be plenty of fighting and pain before they could find her, if they were lucky enough to reach her at all.
Zombies were impossible to cut through once they started moving in a wall, and they’d be several layers deep so close to the building.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Adam answered, as if he had a choice, following Colton out as light snow flurries began to fall in the darkness.
The empty street allowed Adam to imagine for a moment that they really could make it the rest of the way without running into anything else. Maybe they would find a way to get inside the building. Colton was a great shot. Plus, he was smart. He would think of a way. Maybe there was power in the building. Or an elevator that went to the top. It didn’t make sense that Zelle would have climbed so many stairs by herself. Adam had asked Colton how tall he thought the tallest building was. He’d said he didn’t know, so Adam had tried to count and had had to stop. He’d guessed forty floors. Unlike most of the other buildings in the city, the tallest one seemed mostly unbroken, with only a few windows missing near the top. Not only was it the tallest, but clearly it was the strongest too.
“I wonder if Hooper made it out alive.” Adam didn’t believe it, but it seemed like Colton had lost hope for both of them. Maybe saying impossible things out loud might make things better.
Apparently Colton didn’t subscribe to that philosophy, saying in a dead voice, “No, Hooper didn’t make it. No way. There were too many.”
“You never know.”
Colton stopped walking. He turned to Adam, pulled a small black square from his pocket, and jammed his thumb on the middle of it. A small blinking circle with the number “51” in it appeared and moved toward two other circles, “17” and “88.” Tiny chirps bleated from the box’s small speakers.
Adam asked, “What is that?”
“This is a mini-radar I got in The Opening Rush. It shows you a few blocks’ radius around your location. That “51” is the number assigned to Hooper’s bracelet in the game. These other two dots are us.”
“He’s alive!” Adam said, smiling.
“Well, maybe. We don’t know if he’s infected.”
They watched the dot coming closer as the bleats grew louder.
“He’s moving pretty straight forward,” Adam said. “Zombies don’t tend to walk like that, do they?”
Colton nodded. “Maybe the bastard did manage to get away. Let’s stay put and wait, though, to be on the safe side.”
The bleats grew louder. Both Colton and Adam looked down as a fourth dot, one without a number, suddenly appeared on the screen behind Hooper.
“What’s that?” Adam asked.
“Not good news,” Colton said. “Either a zombie or a bandit.”
Colton handed the radar to Adam, then knelt, swung his rifle in front of him, lowered his eye to the scope, and scanned the darkness ahead.
Adam asked, “Is it him?”
“Yeah! He’s running, he’s not too far. He’ll be here in a minute.”
Suddenly, there was more beeping and several more dots appeared on the screen, all behind Hooper, and none with numbers.
“There’s a bunch more dots,” Adam said, looking up to see Colton’s face, staring wide-eyed and slack jawed through the scope as he registered what Adam had seen on the radar.
“What?” Adam asked.
“He’s got a whole damned horde behind him.”
“Doesn’t he see them?” Adam asked, looking down at the now dozens of dots on the screen.
“I don’t know, but he’s going to lead them right to us. Shit.”
Every muscle in Adam’s body felt tighter as he watched Hooper appear at the end of the street. He was too far away for Adam to tell how badly he was injured, but he was definitely not moving like an infected man. He was alive and eager to catch up with them.
Hooper waved his hands and called out, “Guys!”
He seemed to be oblivious of the threat mounting behind him.
Adam turned to Colton, “Aren’t you going to shoot them?”
Colton said nothing, eye to his scope.
Just when Adam thought he would have to ask again, or else suffer death from anticipation, Colton pulled the trigger.
THWAP!
But it wasn’t a zombie he shot.
Hooper dropped to the pavement.
Adam stared, hardly able to believe his eyes.
“You killed him!” he said, still staring straight ahead as the zombies descended on the fresh kill.
Adam could hear their ravenous grunts as they tore into Hooper’s flesh.
Colton turned to Adam, put his hands on both Adam’s shoulders, and shook him. “Come on, or we’re their next course.”
With no time to mourn, they ran.
Episode 3
CHAPTER 14—KELLER
Keller opened his eyes to a raging headache and an empty bed. He threw the covers from his body, stumbled to his feet, and wandered out into the living room of their spacious City 1 loft, one of the more obvious perks of being The State’s Provisional L
eader, a title he’d assumed even though Jack Geralt was dead.
The Elders decided it better to keep the illusion that Geralt was still alive rather than to appoint Keller as The State’s One True Leader. And, as Keller’s understanding of the power structure’s true inner workings expanded—a few Elders secretly pulled strings behind the scenes—the decision made sense to him. It also left him with his taste for government sour on his tongue.
Keller had never thought it would be possible to mourn his old life as City 6 Chief, a position he’d done everything possible to get promoted from. But mourn it he did, every damned day as he woke to City 1’s glistening paradise, all through the evening, and into the black of night when the burn of scotch helped send him to sleep.
Jacqueline was happy enough, with her new friends and shopping trips. She was living in luxury’s lap and couldn’t understand why Keller’s mood had been so consistently awful since they’d left City 6. Considering he had always promised this move would be the one thing that might heal what was broken, it was particularly troublesome. Things had been different between them since Joshua’s death. And though she’d never said it, Keller knew a part of her blamed him. Whether the blame was for not spotting the bomb or The Underground scum who planted it—or for The State’s policies which The Underground opposed—she’d not looked at him the same since losing their son.
So he had buried himself in his work while she—well, he never thought to ask how she tried to fill the void. As if they could pretend they weren’t hurting long enough to truly kill the pain.
“Promotion means a new life, Jacqueline,” Keller had said aplenty. “We’ll have different things to see and different things to do. Everything will be better.”
But nothing was better. Even though Jacqueline seemed happy when keeping herself busy with friends and shopping, he could tell in their moments alone that things still weren’t right, and now likely couldn’t be.
Just admit it: you’re thinking about Adam.
