Dela's Hunters (The Harem House Book 1)

by Charissa Dufour

  “When we go to snatch a kid, we use holes in the roof to distract ‘em. Then a few of us run in, grab a kid, and run out. We fast.”

  “That’s a great strategy if we just wanted to go in and out. We’re wanting to kill off Angel and all his men.”

  “You amazed what chaos does,” replied the kid.

  “True, but chaos also gets the innocent killed,” said Greg.

  The kid nodded as though he accepted Greg’s position. Mason hadn’t expected the boy to be open to true brainstorming. The question was, would Greg and Leroy be equally open to working together.

  “What ‘bout we lure Angel’s men out for a fight?”

  Together, they worked on the plan for hours. Slowly, the other adults went back to settling down for the night and the children surrounding them slipped out of their hiding places. It was a subtle shift, taking over an hour to occur. Mason set up his bedroll and fire closer to the discussion happening at the entrance of their camp. A child approached him and Mason offered him some food. By the time the meeting broke up, he had three boys sharing his fire.

  Gareth turned away from the private discussion and addressed the crowd.

  “Get some sleep. We move out at midnight. Horses stay behind.”

  Mason wanted to ask what they had planned but kept his mouth shut.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dela slipped up to the rusting wall, thanking her lucky stars for the hole giving her a view of the camp. Even though it was hours before sunup, all but one of the fires had been put out. Still, Dela could see the faint whips of smoke rising from old fires. Horses milled around, nuzzling at the bits of grass and weeds that grew between the two buildings. One man sat at the single fire. Dela recognized him as one of Josie’s sons. She had no doubt the boy was pissed at being left behind.

  “Okay. So they’ve already left the camp,” she whispered to herself. “But what about the kids?”

  She snuck to the corner of the building, ducking under the various holes and gaps, and searching the ground for any signs of the children. Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t able to see any footprints in the darkness. She did, though, spot a flash of something metallic. Dela scooped it up to find a sharpened bit of recycled metal. She recognized it as something they might have worn on their animal skins. The kids have been here. So what now?

  Dela thought for a moment before ducking across the street and plunging herself back into a shadow. While the half moon was excellent for not tripping, it wasn’t very helpful when trying to stay hidden.

  Her legs shook as she tried to sneak from shadow to shadow until she was beyond the sight-lines of the boy left behind. Even when she felt no need to stoop or duck, her legs shook. Fact was, she was out of water and feeling it. On top of that, she was sleep deprived—now halfway through her second night without proper sleep.

  Dela shook her head, trying to wake herself up. She gave her cheek a slap before assessing her location. She didn’t know the Dead Zone that well, but she felt pretty sure Angel’s community was to the northwest.

  By the time Dela started spotting signs of Gareth and his men, Dela thought she might crumble with the next step. All the same, she continued to put one foot in front of the other. An hour later, she found them stopped. It looked as though they were breaking up into groups while some of the boys were racing away. Panic built in her chest. Were the boys giving up on the plan and deserting the cause?

  Dela dropped behind a fallen bit of wall and watched their activities. Everyone was working extra hard to remain silent, so Dela assumed they were close to Angel’s community. Men were returning to the group with long wooden beams, many of them adorned with bits of paper and long nails. It took Dela a moment to realize they had pried the beams from dilapidated buildings. Those with the beams moved off, out of her range of sight. Dela sat back on her haunches, trying to glean some hint of their plan, but the longer she watched the more confused she became.

  Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Dela snuck forward, taking each scurry from one hiding spot to the next as fast as she could with her shaking legs. After a few blocks of careful stalking, she found where they had finally settled. The men with the logs had set them up in large tee-pees in an arch from Angel’s building around to the pile of rubble across the street. From what she could tell, the arranged beams were meant to keep the flow of those escaping moving in the proper direction. Dela doubted it would work. One could easily squeeze through the gaps between each stack.

  Just when Dela was going to reveal herself and share her wisdom, ten children raced up to the stacks of wood, dumping a bucket of black liquid over each tee-pee of wood. The children raced away, only stationary for a few seconds. At that moment, Dela heard the cry of a hawk—a sound she didn’t expect to hear in the middle of the night, much less deep in the Dead Zone. According to legend, nothing but rabid dogs lived in the Dead Zone. Then again, that legend had already been debunked.

  At the sound of the hawk, three kids raced up to the stacks of wood with a large torch in their hands. They ran along their portion of the wall, lighting the stacks on fire. At the same moment, Dela thought she saw something happening on the roof of Angel’s building, but it was hard to be sure from where she hid.

  It was barely a minute before she heard shouts coming from within the enormous brick building. Fists pounded against the large, sliding door. Dela couldn’t see it, but for some reason it appeared as though the door wouldn’t open. Smoke billowed out of the building and Dela bolted.

  Whatever they were doing, they weren’t going to burn those people alive.

  Lath hunkered down with a group of men and kids. Thus far, he had been impressed with the rogue children. They had produced quality ideas, hit their marks on time, and followed orders. As they waited, wedged between two nearby buildings, Lath heard the pounding of fists against the metal door. They had bound the door shut, knowing perfectly well they would get it open eventually. It was just to keep their enemy clumped together, lost in panic. In the meantime, the smoke would create a certain level of chaos, during which time a few boys could sneak in and grab a child or two, whisking them out of danger.

  Lath had it on good authority that the building wasn’t actually on fire. The children had a method for creating a large amount of smoke and funnel it into the building. He wished he was up on the roof seeing them in action, but he was too large to fit into the tunnels they spoke of.

  At last, the twine they used to tie off the door broke and the door slid across its tracks. Men mixed with a few older women poured out of the enormous structure, only to skid to a halt as they found their most direct route blocked with a wall of fire. The crowd turned, heading up a street that ran alongside their own building—which they thought was on fire.

  As the first group passed Lath’s hiding spot, he jumped out—along with four other men and five boys. The plan was for the men to fight and the boys to grab any women or children they could and drag them to safety. Just as he expected, he spotted some of the older boys slashing with their home-made knives. He would have been annoyed had they not been so effective.

  Lath came up against a large man with knotted hair and missing teeth. Lath had his knife buried in the man’s stomach before the man even realized they were in a battle. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted other members of Angel’s army going in a similar fashion, but it didn’t last long. Shouts rang out, warning the next wave of men that they were under attack.

  The next man had his knife out, ready for Lath’s attack. Lath blocked the man’s swing, his forearm connecting with the other man’s wrist as he tried to slash down. Lath swung his arm around the man’s arm, locking it under his armpit. At the same moment, Lath planted his foot on the man’s chest and gave it a shove. His shoulder joint popped and the man screamed. Lath released his useless arm and drove his blade into the man’s gut.

  Two.

  Before Lath could zero in on another target, something slammed into the side of his face, sending him sprawling to the groun
d, his knife skidding across the street. Lath scrambled a few steps forward—on his feet and hands—as he struggled to his feet. He took a kick to his thigh in the process and spun around just in time to block a jab with a stick. Lath recognized it as one of the spears the kids made. For a split second, he worried about the child who had carried that spear but quickly brought his mind back on track. He slapped the next jab away while simultaneously tilting his head to the side to avoid a punch from the man’s free hand. His enemy jabbed again, and Lath caught his wrist. With the other man’s arm outstretched, he slammed his free arm down on the back of the man’s elbow, forcing the arm to bend. With the movement, Lath forced the man to stab himself in the shoulder.

  Lath grabbed the knife, giving it a twist and yanking it out of the wound. The man dropped to the ground. Lath prepared to run to another member of Angel’s army but found the street mostly littered with bodies. A few men were still fighting, but others were approaching from behind, ready to finish off the few men still standing. As he searched, a feeling of panic began to build in his chest. Where’s Gareth?

  Just as Lath prepared to start shouting for Gareth, his friend emerged from one of the alleys. Like Lath, Gareth was splattered with blood. Lath just prayed none of it was his.

  At the sound of a hawk’s cry, Gareth and the men hiding in his alleyway adjusted their stance, ready to pounce. It meant the plan was starting. Smoke began to billow from the enormous brick building, followed by screaming. The wait was impossible. As he heard women’s shrieks, his desire to rush forward and release them from the smoking building grew. Stick with the plan.

  He glanced at the other men in his alleyway. They, too, were shifting on their feet, antsy to move forward, to do something. A moment later, Gareth heard the door rattling across its tracks. The screams grew louder, accompanied by stamping feet. As the escapees caught sight of the flaming wall, their shouts changed. The men were realizing the whole situation was planned. It took another minute or so before they appeared in the street beyond his alleyway.

  Gareth raised his hand, keeping his men back. He waited until the frontline had passed the opening before dropping it. His men raced out, knives drawn. They all had guns, but bullets weren’t to be wasted, especially if they had a long journey home with a herd of women and children to protect.

  Gareth adjusted his mind to the fight, disgusted with his distraction. A distracted mind got you killed. He slid his knife across the nearest man’s arm, his enemy barely realizing a new threat was approaching. Gareth kept running, leaving the injured man for someone behind him. The next man had been alerted to their presence and turned to defend himself. Gareth blocked his downswing with his forearm, the blade grazing his arm. It stung, but Gareth had had worse. As he kept the man’s arm aloft, he released his grip on his knife, letting it fall. His other hand snaked out to catch it, and a second later it was buried deep into the man’s gut. He didn’t even have a chance to adjust to the new attack before he was gasping for breath through the blood filling his airway.

  As Gareth gave the knife a twist and yanked if free, the man gave another gurgled gasp and slumped to the ground, his knife clattering to the scarred pavement. Gareth looked up, ready to block the next attack. At the same moment, a man barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground. Gareth couldn’t tell if it had been an intentional attack or an accident. He rolled, trying to grab the man and get the upper hand. A quick glance confirmed it wasn’t one of his own men.

  The man reached for the front of his shirt, also trying to be the one to end up on top. Gareth thrust his knee up toward the man’s groin but hit him in the thigh instead. The man shifted, throwing a leg over Gareth’s waist. With his momentum, he ended up straddling Gareth, his hands shifting to Gareth’s throat. Gareth grabbed his wrists, trying to dig his fingers into the tendons in his wrists.

  When that didn’t work, Gareth tried to slam his arm into the man’s elbow, but the man was large and strong. Worse yet, Gareth was beginning to feel the effects of both a lack of oxygen and a lack of blood flow to his brain. Desperation set in, and Gareth began thrashing about. Just as he felt the darkness closing in, the large man jerked before collapsing across him.

  Gareth gasped, gulping down the air as fast as he could with two-hundred and fifty pounds pressing against his chest. After a few frantic breaths, his eyes focused on the woman standing over him with a smaller wooden beam gripped in her hands like a baseball bat—Dela.

  “What the…” he croaked as rage built inside him. He shoved the limp body off of him and struggled to his feet.

  Dela swung her make-shift weapon, striking a man in the face before he could get within stabbing distance. The man’s face seemed to disintegrate under the bat’s pressure. It was then that Gareth noticed the three or four rusty nails sticking out of the business end of the weapon. The man grabbed his face with a wail, dropping to the ground and writhing in pain. Dela seemed to ignore him, too busy standing guard while Gareth recovered. Gareth felt his heart thumping in his chest and blamed it on nearly dying. It had nothing to do with the emotions coursing through his body for the young woman standing over him.

  Gareth scrambled to his feet. “What the…” he coughed, trying to get his voice back, “…you doing here?”

  “Saving your ass.”

  Gareth wanted to argue, but before he could get another word out, more of Angel’s men appeared. Dela swung, missing one man’s face by an inch. Gareth wanted to step in, but another burly man with his long hair tied up in braids charged him, trying to ram his shoulder into Gareth’s gut. At the last second, Gareth spun out of the man’s path, sending him sprawling to the ground. Gareth got a kick in before the man got up onto one knee, slashing with a knife that could have been a sword in another century. Gareth jumped back, the knife grazing his shirt and cutting into the worn fabric.

  The man jumped up and slashed again. Gareth avoided the attack with a flick of his shoulder. He flipped his knife around in his hand, adjusting his grip as he studied the man’s attacks. With the blade protecting his forearm, he raised his hands up as though he was boxing. It wasn’t his normal style, but he and Lath practiced both just to be safe.

  The other man lunged at him, and Gareth slapped the attack away with his free hand, simultaneously slashing his blade around, splitting the underside of the man’s outstretched arm from shoulder to elbow. The man wailed, blood gushing out over both him and Gareth. The flow slowed within seconds as the man slumped to the ground. He would be dead in minutes unless one of his men came to his aid.

  Gareth turned to get Dela. The girl was already across the street fighting a man three times her size. He dashed across the street, nearly getting barreled over by a shrieking woman. He came up behind the man, driving his knife into the back of his neck. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Dela turned, ready to kill the next man, but Gareth grabbed her arm.

  “Stop.”

  “I’m helping,” she said, trying to jerk her arm free.

  “The women. They’re scared. They’re running. You need to keep them from running.”

  “Why me?”

  Gareth jerked her back, hating the fact he was likely leaving a bruise on her. “Because you’re a woman, too.”

  Dela’s face softened. She nodded.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dela glanced down at her arm. It was already purpling, ironically, from Gareth’s grip on her arm. Beyond that, she was still unscathed. Dela knew it had nothing to do with her skill—it was a perfect combination of luck and Gareth watching her back. She spun around, determined to do the job given her as well as she could.

  In some ways, the fight was winding down. She spotted fewer and fewer men who looked like they belonged with Angel. Still, anarchy reigned supreme. There were a few men in fighting order who seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Mixed in with those still fighting, Dela spotted children running in all directions, screaming for some person or other. Other men were tending to their wounded, and a few
women wandered aimlessly, unsure what to make of their frightening new world.

  Dela grabbed the arm of the nearest woman, turning her so that she was forced to focus on Dela’s face. “Help me round up the children.”

  The woman just stared at her, acting as though she didn’t see Dela. In a move that stunned even Dela, she slapped the woman across the face. She blinked. Dela blinked. Finally, a flicker of recognition came into her eyes as her right cheek turned pink.

  “You with me?” Dela asked.

  The woman nodded slowly, more life coming into her features.

  “We need to gather the children. You’re free,” Dela added, hoping it would bring more energy to the woman.

  “Free?”

  “Yes!” Moisture began to build in the woman’s eyes. “Now get the other women to help you gather the children. Some of them are running away out of fear.”

  The woman’s features began to glow and she turned, racing off to the nearest free woman. Dela spotted some of the children warriors bringing the runaways back toward the compound. Figuring she had obeyed Gareth enough, Dela turned toward the doorway. She ran into the brick building, her spiky bat held aloft just in case.

  It looked as though a herd of cattle had raced through the building. Dela stepped over a broken chair, still eying the disaster. She reached a body and gasped as she realized it belonged to an elderly woman. Kneeling, she felt for a pulse. Nothing.

  The body was bloody, one wrinkled leg turned at an odd angle. Her clothing was torn up, too. Slowly, Dela realized the woman had been trampled in the stampede to escape the smoke. She moved forward, slowing her steps as she spotted a rather petite man lying dead a few yards farther into the building.

  By the time she reached the first hut, she spotted three more trampled bodies. Hoarse voices called from the huts, little fingers sticking out through the wooden slats. Dela ran to the first hut, using her weapon to pry the old lock apart. A dirty woman with matted hair fell through the doorway. Dela tried to catch her but failed and they both went down.