by Kim Faulks
I pulled her closer, rocking backwards and forwards while the desperation and the hurt rose to the surface, and underneath it…scalding rage.
God led me here, to this place and these people. He gave me a weapon and it wasn’t the gun, or the book…it was to live…to survive, when these people wouldn’t.
The girl shuddered in my arms, took one breath and then stilled. I waited for the exhale…for the tremble in her bones, until I realized there was none.
My legs trembled as I laid her on the bed and then snagged the sheet at the foot and pulled it over her body. “I want my gun.”
There was no answer…no movement, no reaction at all.
“I want my gun back now!” My voice cracked like thunder through the room.
Children cried. Women wept…they all waited.
Miles flinched with the sound and wrenched his head to me as I crossed the room. “The preacher. Kenya told me about him. Where is he?”
There was a flicker of concern…almost fear. His breath caught, words slow and clear. “How do you know about him?”
It didn’t matter, didn’t he see that? None of this mattered. They were fighting a battle they’d never win, for this was nothing more than a by-product. I needed to kill the disease at the root, and not battle the symptoms.
I opened my hand as I stepped closer. There was no room for a warning, no desire to plea. “Then give me my damn gun.”
He took one look at my hand and then spoke. “Brendan…take them downstairs.”
The room was filled with a flurry of movement. Guns were locked and loaded. Muzzles pointed at me and Kenya as soldiers filled the room.
“Pestilence has come,” Miles muttered as he lifted his head, cruel eyes seemed to stare through me. “Just like the preacher said…and I think I found her right here.”
I scanned the room, staring at the faces. “You think I’m Pestilence? You think I’m causing all this?”
“Miles, stop…she’s not the person causing the plague,” Kenya started pushing against the soldier in front of her. But there was no getting past as he shoved her backwards and raised the gun…there was a second where Miles waited, until he gave a nod. The soldier wrenched his rifle across his body and unleashed, driving the thick timber stock across her face.
“Kenya…no!” I lunged, punched, fists clenched and swinging as the wall of males closed in. “You goddamn bastard. She was here to help you…she was here trying to save you!”
“Take them down to the cage,” Miles snapped. “Let’s see how they do down there.”
Excitement grew like a tempest storm, and outside in the yellow clouds, a peal of thunder cracked through the sky. Kenya stumbled, holding her hand to her face. Blood trickled from the cut underneath to slip through the gaps in her fingers.
Someone grabbed the collar on my jacket and yanked, forcing me to scurry backwards. “You’re a fucking coward! A goddamn coward. Look at her. She risked her damn life to come here and help you!”
Miles crossed the floor and stopped in front of the backpack. He bent, grabbed the straps, and opened the top. Liquid sloshed against the sides of the vial as he pulled it free. “One of you is lying, and I intend to find out.”
“No, stop…no…Miles, you can’t do this. We had a treaty…we had a deal, remember?” Kenya clutched her head and screamed.
But it was useless…he was already walking away. There was no treaty. There was nowhere safe. There was only fists and fury…there was only the stairway as we left the fifth floor behind.
They wanted blood. It didn’t matter whose it was.
They wanted to take us to the cage and make us pay.
Dad’s words came to me now…don’t let them take you, Harlow. Once they do, you’re dead. Even if they don’t kill you, you’ll be dead inside soon enough. You fight, you understand me? You fight with everything you have, and you keep on fighting. You keep on living. You keep on doing exactly what I taught you, and you survive.
My steps blurred. I tried to swallow the lump in the back of my throat.
If this was the end, I wouldn’t cry—not for myself.
I’d be happy. Soon, I’d see my family again.
11
“We can talk about this!”
Kenya’s words rebounded through the stairwell as I stumbled down one floor after another.
“Please, Miles. Stop. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about…not yet, anyway. I want the truth, Kenya, and it seems you’re incapable of that.”
He turned his head and stepped down, leading the way as we passed floor three, and then two…and one…still, I kept moving, heading lower back into the shadows, and into the dark
The rifle’s muzzle dug into my shoulder as he shoved. I winced and turned my head to the blown-out walls of the building. Light poured in. But instead of the sickening yellow clouds I was used to, these burned blood red.
A storm was coming.
A…reckoning.
The words welled in my chest as I kept descending, past the first floor to what had to be the parking garage beneath.
Light filtered in from the floor above, consuming the darkness from the middle out. Others moved, they whispered, they stared. I could feel their gaze on me, judging…condemning.
I saw in the right hand of Him who sat on the throne a book written inside and on the back, sealed up with seven seals.
The passage came to me now as I stepped down the last stair and stared at the mammoth cage in the middle of the empty garage. It was a fighting ring, a torture ring. Heavy chains hung from the grill overhead, bars on the door prevented escape. It was designed for one way in, and one way out, and that was dead.
Chairs hugged three sides, the ends of the seats almost brushing the bars, so their audience could get nice and close to the action—and on the fourth side, hidden half in the murky light, were two chairs…
I was betting one was for Kenya—and the other for me.
My stomach tightened, steps stuttered. Kenya fought, twisting and turning, her curls went wild, yellowed eyes were wide. I could taste her terror. “No…No, Miles. We can talk about this. Don’t do this. I’m begging you!”
Steel shone from the corner of the room. Baseball bats, dented and bloody, sat on a counter with crude equipment. I didn’t need to linger to know their use. They wanted the truth, by any means necessary, and yet…that was all I had to give.
I closed my eyes as the room swayed. My heart picked up pace, thundering inside my chest. Don’t let them take you, Dad warned me—and yet here I was.
Taken.
A tear slipped, warm and slick along my cheek.
The Calling was quiet inside me…there was no more vibration, no more leading me to the place where I needed to be.
There was only an emptiness, and out of the void of nothing came a clarity so cruel it buckled my knees. The ground seemed to rise up. I shoved out a hand and hit the ground. Pain flared, savaging my knee like a ravenous beast.
“Get up,” the cruel bastard sneered from above. “Move.”
I splayed my hands against the ground and stared at his filthy boots.
Maybe I deserved this?
Maybe I belonged here, in the dark, lost…just like them?
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…” The words consumed me, spilling like lava from my lips. I shoved, limped. My knee buckled before I swallowed hard and climbed to my feet to meet his gaze. “For thou art with me.”
Thick, bloody, mucous tears slipped from the corner of his eyes. Midnight pupils were blown, widening as I stared. He was dying—right here, right now. His jaundiced skin turned ashen, as though he’d been squeezed of life and wrung dry.
Concern flared, cleaving a valley between his brows as he took one slow step and then crumbled to the ground.
“Jesus Christ…Brendan…Brendan!”
Miles rushed forward, shoving me out of the way. Brendan wasn't moving, not
moaning, not rolling. Just lying there…leaking.
"You fucking killed him..." Miles wrenched his head upwards, hatred flared in his eyes. “You killed my fucking brother!”
Hate flared, cold, cruel, and endless. I’d never seen such depths. Terror filled me as Miles touched the still form, and his fingers came away coated with blood. “Hunter,” he snarled and shoved to his feet. “Get this bitch to the chair."
“No.”
My heart thundered, driving that fear through my veins. Someone grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the darkness.
Fight! The roar punched through. I cocked my fist and swung, but the motion was weak and unsteady. My blow found nothing but air as the big bastard moved.
My knee buckled, pain bit deep. Calloused hands gripped my neck. I thrashed, pulling against his hold, but there was no use. He was strong, too strong.
Miles stood from the still body on the floor and headed toward me.
"Fuck you!" harsh words burned. “Fuck you!”
Tears came, stinging and blurring. Don’t cry…don’t you dare fucking cry. I hated in that moment. Hated him. Hated this world. Hated that urgency that had led me here, to this place and these people.
I hated God...
My stomach trembled as the brute’s hand tightened around my throat. I hated the God that made me weak. I hated the God that had taken everything from me…my family, and now my life.
The grip tightened around my throat. My pulse throbbed, filling my head with the thunderous roar. The bastard sneered, digging the tips of his fingers into flesh and veins. He was a monster, a beast. Hard brown eyes held no flicker of emotion. He'd do whatever Miles wanted, no matter the cause.
My boots skimmed the ground as he dragged me backwards. I caught the corner of the chair as he shoved. My arms windmilled, clawing the air for a hold, until I hit the molded plastic with a thud.
"It's me," Kenya whimpered. Her voice cleaved my head, her desperation drowned out my terror. Her chilling screams were all I heard. “It’s me you want. Listen to me! It’s me you want…it’s me…I’m here. I’m right fucking here!”
I tried to swallow, tried to think. My throat wouldn’t work, words were a lump in my throat. I forced a whisper. “Kenya…stop.”
She stumbled forward and clawed for a hold on his arm. “Miles, please. I’ll tell you everything…everything I know.”
Miles stilled, inhaled hard. But there was no changing his mind. I could see that in the cruel glint that shone in his gaze. "Hunter...remove this bitch's jacket. Let's see what we're dealing with."
The savage barbarian grinned as he loomed close. Cracked lips bled against yellowed teeth, leaving smears of crimson as he sneered. I gripped the edges of my jacket. Knuckles burned as I held on. He gripped my wrist and yanked, pulling one hand away before reaching for the other.
But I was quick, grasping the ends again just as soon as he pried my fingers away.
“Bitch,” he snapped. “Stop fighting me…”
Hate flared, carving away the shell, to the fire inside. In that moment, I was no longer the nice girl, no longer the quiet kid…no longer the loner, afraid to fight. “Fuck you, you no-necked motherfucker.”
Thick fingers poked and prodded. His laughter was a growl, blowing foul breath in my face. “I like this one,” he spat, stabbing, grabbing, trying to pry the leather from my grip. “She’s not like the others.”
“No, she isn’t,” Miles murmured, stepping to the side to watch the show. “She isn’t at all.”
I clung onto the leather, gripped the zipper with all I had, but the bastard had strength I couldn’t match. He fumbled with the zipper with one hand and speared the other in my hair. Fire lashed my scalp as strands pulled taught.
My head pulsed with the pain. I slapped his hand away, “Get the fuck off me! Get the fuck off!”
The room blurred under fresh tears as he dragged my hair, wielding it like a weapon to pull me forward. The collar tightened. Leather skidded and gripped, buckling my elbows, before my jacket dropped to the floor.
His fingers released, leaving my hair.
Miles took a step forward, his gaze skimming my throat, my chest...lingering on my breasts. “You want to talk, then talk.”
My mind raced, searching for the words he wanted to hear. I wrenched my head to Kenya as she stumbled forward. “It could be anyone,” she pleaded. “I’m…”
Miles’ gaze snapped toward her. “I’m not talking to you, Kenya. I’ve heard all I want from you. I’m asking her. I want to hear from her.”
He turned to face me, excitement sparkled like a thousand stars in his gaze as he crossed his arms and waited.
My mind blanked, churning, spinning on itself, binding me as I waited, desperate to say something….anything. “The preacher…”
Miles’ breath caught. His chest stilled. There was no movement, no sound, only a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“I want to know where he is.”
“Why?” He demanded.
I licked my lips, waiting for the thread to unravel. “I want to talk to him, to seek counsel.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to see you.”
I flinched with the answer.
“Maybe he’s right where he needs to be. You know, it’s funny,” he snarled, but there was no laughter in those cold brown eyes. There was only hate, only a quiet rage that seethed under the surface as he took a step closer and lifted his hand to ruffle my hair.
I jerked from his reach and stared into those hateful eyes.
“It’s funny that he comes to me one day and tells me all these terrible things, only for you to show up on my doorstep the day after—just like he promised.”
My breath was fire in my lungs as I searched my mind for the truth in a world filled with shadows and lies.
The preacher knew about me?
If he knew about me, then maybe he knew about the Calling…
I speared myself down deep, spiraling, as I reached that deep hum in the center of my soul. The Calling…the quiet drone that’d been muffled by my own howl of rage.
Movement came from the corner of my eye. She moved fast, slipping out of the shadows to cock her fist and lunge.
The blow hit Kenya in the cheek. She stumbled, falling to one knee before she reached for the side of her face. Miles just stood there, oblivious, as her attacker moved in again.
“No, stop!” I growled, struck by this scrawny, wild-eyed girl.
She was sick, fresh blood leaked from her ears and crusted sweat-soaked strands of dirty blonde hair. Her filthy clothes looked like she’d lived in them since those savage storms that ripped the veil from this world and left us barren and alone. A sickening hiss slipped from her lips, and the sound mirrored her feral, hateful stare perfectly.
Kenya dropped her hand from her face, and shoved against the ground to stand. The small round mark on her cheek was starting to swell, turning bright red. “You always were a hateful little bitch, Miriam.”
“You killed him…you killed my Brendan! I’ll kill you…I’ll kill both of you.”
“In the cage,” Miles turned his head and commanded. “Fight it out in there.”
The whippet smiled a sickening smile. She gave a nod and stepped away. Metal howled behind me. Springs screeched, bending and bowing as the cage door opened. I tried to think, tried to piece this all together.
Miles wanted answers. Ones I couldn’t give…ones Kenya refused to give.
She took a step toward me. Her gaze met mine before she lifted her head, her focus on the metal cage behind me.
“Lights,” Miles commanded.
The slow, guttural crank of an engine started, a misfire filled the room with a boom before it started once more. Overhead lights came to life with a slow surge, and then ebbed, only to burn bright and fill the room with a haunted yellow glow.
“It’s how we do things around here,” Miles stated, staring down at me.
Miriam gave a sneer and then sauntered past. I tracked thei
r footsteps. I tracked their breaths. Kenya light and fast…too fast, and even though I sat here, welded to this moment by hate and misery, all I could hear was my father.
Keep your breaths steady, Harlow. Fear will try to take you—don’t let it take you.
It was a fight. Only a fight, and yet my breaths deepened, burning all the way down deep.
“We have nothing you want,” I shoved from the chair to stand and was met by the thick meaty fist of the brute.
The blow smashed the center of my chest, but it wasn’t designed to hurt, only hamper.
“Let me go.”
Thick rivulets of crimson blood seeped from underneath each of his nostrils. I stared at this life-force weeping away, and then raised my gaze to meet his eyes. “Move, or I’ll make you move.”
“Let her go, Hunter. Let her watch how we do things ’round here,” Miles muttered.
The beast stepped backwards, leaving me to shove forward and climb to my feet once more.
“I always hated you,” Miriam spat as she stepped inside.
A male moved forward, closing the gate behind her. Others filled the space, cramming the chairs, grasping the rusted mesh of the steel cage, and watched the two women inside.
“Why fight?” I wrenched my gaze to their leader. “Why do this?”
Something wasn’t right…this was more than the plague, than the water or food. There was a sickening tang in the air…a cruel, undercurrent of sorrow and horror entwined like long-lost lovers.
It was evil here…and evil hides within the shadows of us all.
The air was charged with excitement. A deep rumble echoed from outside. The bitter scent of ozone was carried on the wind. Energy crackled, but it wasn’t out there that was the danger. It was in here, amongst these barbarians.
“Because this is who we are…this is what we do. We’re all lost,” he said, and stared into the cage. “Until we find ourselves…in there.”
A soft grunt was followed by a murmur from the crowd. I yanked my gaze to the sound, finding Kenya stumbling backwards, and out of reach.
“Fucking bitch!” Miriam snarled and clawed the air as she lunged forward. She stumbled and hit the cage wall. Her fingers speared through the metal gaps, while she sucked in hard breaths and turned toward Kenya. “You know who killed him…know who killed my Brendan. Say it…say it!”
