Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1)

by C. D. Breadner

  “So he might be out there somewhere?”

  Em shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. If he left five or six days ago, I wouldn’t hold out much hope.”

  “How do you know how long I’d been on my own?”

  Em smiled. “Your piss jug, honey. And the IV drip.”

  Anne felt her cheeks color when she remembered how she’d been found.

  “I’m pretty sure your father didn’t leave you on your own because he wanted to,” Em continued. “Not with how well looked-after you were. He did good, if you were there for as long as we think.”

  Anne wasn’t comforted, but she nodded to show her appreciation.

  The cab of the van was silent, so Anne turned her attention out the windows. It was surprising how little there was to actually see. It was just a beige stretch of desert, and the sky was a slightly lighter tone of beige. Here and there bits of bare shrub were sticking up from the sandy ground like blackened sculptures. It was a painting of destruction, not even believable.

  Where there were buildings, they were the crumbled suggestion of four walls. The sand had blown any land shapes smooth, covering it all to look flat. It was an entirely different planet.

  “How close were the bombs?” she whispered, then shouted as they passed a stone wall with no windows, no door, and as they moved along she realized it was just the front of the building. The rest was long gone.

  “About sixty miles,” was Em’s answer. “I wouldn’t want to get any closer to a blast site than this.”

  “How come?”

  “Radiation,” was the simple answer. “Gamma radiation has a half-life of about thirty years. And it’s the shit that will make you sick, too.”

  “Radiation sickness?”

  “Yeah. It’s nasty shit,” Em’s voice got hoarse at that and Anne wanted to ask if she’d seen someone get suffering from that very thing, but she held her tongue.

  “How many people are at the…commune?”

  “About fifty.”

  Anne was surprised. She’d expected a dozen or so. These women really did have a lot of responsibility caring for each other.

  “Are there only women there?” Anne thought she already knew the answer to that.

  “Yes,” May answered that one. “One of our women has two sons, and they’re the only men that live there. They’re thirteen and fifteen.”

  “That’s why we kinda welcome in the men that we know,” Em said quietly.

  “Why?”

  That made Brit cut up, and she turned sideways in the front passenger seat to gawk at her. “Because sometimes a girl just wants a good fucking.”

  “Brit, grow up,” Coral groaned, pushing Brit’s arm to turn her around. “But she’s right. The whores take the guys we’re scared of. The rest are fair game, if we want.”

  “No one forces anyone,” May said sharply, meeting Anne’s eyes in the rearview. “No one makes you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Anne nodded, exaggerating the motion since she still had the damn gas mask on. She was scared to remove it, and the other still had their goggles on so she kept it in place.

  “Anyone touches you without your permission, you cut them,” Coral supplied in a frightening matter-of-fact way. “And if they do more than that you tell May and she’ll make sure they get dead.”

  Anne’s blood ran stone-cold right then, waiting for Coral to indicate she was kidding. But she just stared out the window, watching the span of sand as it rolled past them.

  “You’re scaring her,” Em muttered, and Anne felt a bit of relief at that. Maybe it wasn’t true.

  “She should know,” May insisted. “No one has to put up with that shit. And we uphold that by hurting the fuckers that hurt us.”

  “That’s right,” Coral added. “Never without your consent, Anne. Always remember that.”

  The van grew very quiet again, and Anne cast her gaze back out the window next to her. She tried to think about…sex. She had nothing. There was nothing in her memory, nothing remotely generic that indicated she had ever had sex. She wasn’t sure how old she was, either, but she was willing to bet she wasn’t a virgin.

  There was no frame of reference at all.

  “What the hell is this?” May mumbled as the vehicle lumbered past an old squat farmhouse. It had stucco walls with peeling paint, and the sand has sloped drifts against one side. And in the front yard two spikes in the ground.

  The van stopped and Anne sat up, frowning. She had to be seeing things. There was something wrong with her vision because there was no way there were two girls chained to those stakes.

  “What the fuck?” Brit snarled, leaning over Anne’s lap to get closer. “No way. No fucking way.”

  “It could be a trap,” Coral was warning, but Brit was already shoving the van door open.

  “Brit!” May shouted, then cursed and slammed the vehicle into park.

  Next to Anne, Em was leaning over the back of the seat and picking up a rifle. She checked the chamber then snapped the thing back into line. She passed it to May, who opened her door and climbed out with the thing at the ready. She looked like she was plenty capable of handling it.

  Em handed a pistol to Coral next and grabbed another rifle for herself. She leveled her goggled eyes at Anne. “You stay right here.”

  Well, she could hardly move. So no problem there.

  “If we’re not back in ten minutes follow the GPS back to the commune, okay?”

  Anne nodded, then quite suddenly she was alone in the van. Her own breathing seemed amplified in the gas mask, and her heartbeat was loud in her ears. All she could do was stare out the window at two women, both dark-haired, sitting cross-legged on the ground in the sand. They were both wearing long, oversized white but dirty T-shirts. Their legs were bare, their eyes wide. She could tell they weren’t well-fed; their cheeks were sunken and their limbs were terribly thin.

  None of this made sense. What the hell would be gained by tying people up?

  Still, Anne waited.

  Seconds ticked by. She felt terrible staring while the two girls were just sitting in the sand. Yet Anne was terrified and held still, thinking perhaps they wouldn’t even know she was there if she didn’t move and draw their attentions.

  Until there was a loud noise from in the house. You didn’t have to hear a lot of gunshots to recognize them. It was just a series of odd sounding pops, and she froze, holding her breath and waiting to wake up.

  Nothing. It had been less than three minutes.

  Anne eyed up the sand between the van and the door. No way she could push the wheelchair through that. All she had was the van.

  Well, okay then.

  She turned to hang an arm out over the seat, stretching her arm to its limit until her fingers found something metal and cold. She pulled it up without being able to look, and the item in her hand turned out to be a handgun. It had a cool modern look to it, so it wasn’t an old-fashioned revolver. She didn’t think about what kind it must be however, because as her palm wrapped itself in place on the grip something happened.

  Her panic slowed. Calm fell over her, and she titled her hand to examine the bottom. Somehow her thumb found the release on the side, and she pulled the clip clear. She set it in her lap, then pulled the slide back, hand cupping the chamber but it was empty. Picking up the clip again, she saw a round loaded at the top, and down along the back she saw that half the clip was loaded. Eight rounds.

  She just…knew that. It wasn’t clear how, but that pistol in her hand was familiar. No different from picking up a telephone. She slapped the clip in place and pulled the slide back, hearing the click of the first round popping into place.

  Then she set the pistol on the passenger seat and dragged herself into the front, sideways behind the wheel. With a noise of annoyance she yanked the gas mask off, tossing it into the back. Anne had to fold her legs under the steering wheel manually, which was incredibly hard and had her sweating heavily. But the shooting had stopped inside,
and that had her worried.

  The van was running still. It was alarmingly quiet in park. She slammed it into drive, wrenched the wheel hard to the right and headed for the building.

  Anne had no idea what the hell she was doing, but she knew that shooting was likely a bad thing, and no one was indicating that everything was okay. So she was simply going to ram the front of the building and cause a diversion, if nothing else.

  What a fucking stupid idea. But it was all she had.

  She started beating on the horn in the center of the wheel, and the loud honking startled her, but she didn’t worry about it. She didn’t want to hit the girls if they were anywhere in her trajectory.

  The van passed between the women tied up in the yard with plenty of room to spare, and she aimed to the side of the door where there was a boarded up picture window. She kept up with the horn and yanked the seatbelt into place at the last minute, then she was busting through stucco and plywood with a loud crash.

  The building had given way surprisingly easy. She hit the brake as the wall fell away, revealing the inside of the house.

  It was dark, but she was able to make out struggling bodies. A large man had May down on a table, bending her backwards onto the top, with his hand on her neck. Coral was hanging on his back, arms wrapped around his throat. As Anne watched, he flipped Coral over and she hit the ground hard, then his attentions were back on May alone.

  She had no idea where Brit was, but the man was standing up and drawing May’s back to his chest, like a shield. May, for her part, didn’t look scared. She just stared through the dusty windshield, almost like she was wondering what the hell Anne was planning on doing next.

  The pistol in her hand was still comfortable. Anne snatched it up, positioning it without a thought, and pushed the side door open. She set both feet on the ground, stood somewhat safely behind the door and aimed the pistol at the brute’s head.

  He laughed, bringing his own handgun up to May’s temple.

  “Go ahead, bitch,” he snarled, and she could see spittle flying as he spoke. “You’d all make a great addition to my stable. Just need to be broken first.”

  Anne frowned, not dwelling on the words of this asshole. “Put it down and I might not kill you,” she returned.

  May arched one eyebrow, just barely smiling. To the side Coral was standing up and the man backed up, keeping her and Anne in his sights.

  “You think you got the drop on me, you cunt?”

  “Take the shot Anne,” May was saying. “You can do it.”

  Was she nuts? Sure the gun was familiar, and Anne thought it was possible she’d fired one before. But this kind of marksmanship? It had to be a bluff.

  “I’m feeling merciful,” she muttered, no idea where this dialogue was even coming from. “We should give this ass a chance to save himself.”

  “I’m gonna have fun with you, Blondie.” May winced as the man obviously rubbed himself against her backside. “I’m gonna fuck every hole you’ve got and then shove this pistol up inside and kill you that way.”

  Anne shook her head, the gun still very steady in her hands. “With that little dick? You can’t reach me from four feet away. And besides, you’ll be dead before that sad little thing even wakes up.”

  “You bitch—” he was roaring, face a nasty purple hue as he tossed May to the side and came her way. With a couple of controlled squeezes of the trigger she shot twice, the first round hitting his forehead. On the second she dropped the sight slightly and plowed a second hole into his chest.

  Nice, neat. Incredibly quiet after the loudness of the gunfire, and her ears were ringing.

  How’d you just do that? she asked herself, bringing the gun up into her line of sight like she was surprised it was actually there.

  “What the fuck?” Coral was breathing out as May climbed to her feet, looking a bit shocked herself. It was subtle, but her shock was there.

  “How did you do that?” May asked, almost a whisper.

  “And how the fuck are you standing up?”

  With a gasp Anne looked down. Sure enough, those were her sock feet on the filthy ground, holding her up. As though it were a magic trick, her knees buckled and she caught herself with one hand, gripping the van door.

  “I got her,” May was shouting, circling around to wrap an arm around Anne’s waist. She hefted her up a bit then walked them back to the second set of doors. Anne looked up to see Coral heading into a room at the back of the building. “That adrenalin is a trip, isn’t it?”

  Anne gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. I just scared the shit out of myself.”

  “Literally? Because I’ll leave you here.”

  She laughed harder as May helped wrangle her back into her seat. “No, figuratively.” She looked down at the pistol, safely pointed downward throughout the entire moving scenario. “I don’t know how I did that,” she admitted, meeting May’s gaze. “I don’t remember ever picking up a gun.”

  May tilted her head to study Anne. “I don’t know,” she mused. “You might have had some kind of marksmanship training. It might just be reflex for you. You were calm and cool, Anne. Anne. Fuck that. I’m calling you Oakley.”

  She frowned. “Who?”

  “Annie Oakley. Famous female sharpshooter.”

  “Oh.”

  There was loud cussing from inside the ruined building, and they both looked up as Brit came stalking out of the back room where Coral had disappeared. Em was between them, wiping at her bloodied lip.

  But Brit looked ready to kill, which was wasted effort since the man on the ground was already dead when she began kicking him in the face.

  “Fucking! Cunt! Sonova! Bitch! You like that? I fuck you up! Asshole!” Each point was punctuated with a boot to the man’s head. It was hard to watch and Anne had to look away even though she was the one who had just made him dead.

  May was watching her though. It was an evaluating look, and Anne’s skin shrunk up a bit under that scrutiny. “He sells those two women in the front yard. They’re put out there to advertise that he had services available to trade. It’s how they all get food, although he obviously keeps them too weak and doped up to run away. He kidnaps women like us and makes them fuck people so he can stay that fucking fat.”

  Anne inhaled, her eyes stinging a bit. The whole explanation was bit out with such venom it felt as though it was directed at Anne.

  “So if Brit feels like caving his head in, she gets to. You can too, when you’re strong enough. Any prick we kill feel, free to take out all your anger because they’ll do that and worse to you if given the chance.”

  Anne swallowed and nodded. She’d need to work on her poker face around these women.

  “Shoulda seen her!” Coral was saying loudly from behind Em as they approached the van. “Anne dropped him like a fucking army sniper. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Em’s face was thoughtful, and now Anne could see her lip was cut and bleeding. “Are you okay?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Asshole got handsy with May,” Em muttered. “I punched him. He punched back.”

  “Then he threw her and Brit in the back room and locked them in. A little more nimble than he looked, that’s for sure.” Coral put her arm around Em’s shoulders. “I hate that you got hurt, gorgeous.”

  “I’m fine,” Em said, wiping at the blood on her mouth again. “He just knew the right way to hit.”

  Coral went on her toes to kiss Em’s cheek then turned her grin on Anne. “And you honey are going to be a fucking fun puzzle to figure out.” She leaned over and laid a kiss on Anne’s lips. “Thank you.”

  She was startled. She pulled back, then stuttered out a lame, “I-I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” Coral said immediately, backing away and her smile fading. “Don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Anne.”

  She as so earnest Anne felt embarrassed for her reaction. “No, I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

  “We’re affectionate w
ith each other,” May informed her. “But the same rule goes. Never without your consent.”

  Anne nodded, then tried to give Coral a reassuring smile. “I take no offense, and I mean none.”

  Coral smiled. “So we made up. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “We’re taking those girls, right?” Em asked May.

  “Of course. I’ll go get them, ask them if they want to come.”

  Anne couldn’t imagine anyone saying no to that, but she stayed in place, only moving to reach over the seat and put the pistol back in its place.

  “We should see if that was luck or not,” Em said, motioning for Anne to scoot over and give her room to climb in. The other side was somewhat blocked by building pieces she’d knocked out of the way in her breakout scheme.

  “Yeah,” Anne agreed, sighing at the fact that her legs were still useless. So strange that she’d just climbed out of the van without any troubles.

  “That’s a handy skill to have,” Em went on. “I’m pretty curious about where you came from, Anne.”

  She snorted. “May wants to call me Oakley now.”

  Em’s grin grew wider. “That works better, actually. It means something at least.”

  “I just want my legs back first.” She hated sounding so whiny, especially with everything these women had been through while she’d been safely planted underground. But feeling useless and helpless was sitting on her like an uncomfortable coat.

  “You’ll get them back,” Em assured her, pulling the van door shut.

  Brit climbed into the back of the van, moving around supplies to create a space in the middle of their haul. She put the blankets in the center, and that’s when Anne got a good look at the women from the front yard.

  Bruised, starved, and scared of anything that moved. It didn’t even matter that they were all women. The older woman’s eyes moved from one of them to the other like a caged animal. She looked like the younger woman, and Anne was wondering if they weren’t related. God forbid, they might be mother and daughter.

  “It’s okay,” May was saying gently, slowly placing her hand on the older woman’s elbow. “We’re going somewhere safe, I promise. And no one’s going to touch you.”