Wild Wastes Omnibus

by Randi Darren

  Sliding to its knees, the Orc’s hands scrabbled amongst the grass, trying to get a hold of the hilt.

  Vince stepped down firmly on the flat of the blade as the Orc got purchase on it. He turned his sword around and aimed it downward. It pointed straight into the center of the Orc’s ribcage, right into its heart and lungs.

  With a sudden jerk on the hilt by the Orc, Vince’s attack didn’t go as planned as he was thrown off balance.

  He only managed to get the tip of his blade wedged into the thigh of the Orc. The edge itself was pressed up to the Orc’s throat, however, which left Vince staring into the eyes of the Orc who was kneeling before him.

  Unintentionally, one of Vince’s gifts decided it was a good moment to wake up.

  One of the biggest reasons Vince knew he wasn’t entirely human was he had a number of what he called gifts. Gifts that would mark him more of a Wastelander than a human.

  A mutant.

  As his empathic senses opened up, time for Vince stood still. He was inside of the emotions of the Orc before him. Empathically entrenched in its feelings and psyche.

  Hunger. Overwhelming hunger. Fear. Resignation. Acceptance.

  Along with that came the context behind it. Knowledge without reading the subject’s mind.

  It was a female. A young Orc female. She’d been driven from her tribe when she refused to submit to a young male. She’d bested him, then the Orc’s father, then the father’s brother, in single combat.

  With none left willing to challenge her, and none earning her favor, she was shunned by her tribe. They’d been driven her out completely after that.

  Orcish pride was a prickly thing.

  Her choice had been between only two possibilities: To accept that banishment, or fight them to the death to claim her place as the leader.

  She’d allowed herself to accept the banishment. Taking what few possessions she had with her, she’d set out.

  Unfortunately, she’d met nothing but misfortune. Water had come to her easily, and she’d always been able to find it readily enough. Food had been another matter altogether. She had no formal hunting experience.

  By the point that she’d gotten the basics down from trial and error, she hadn’t the strength or time to spare anymore.

  Gathering fruits, berries, and wild vegetables didn’t fill her stomach, either. It left her wanting more. Craving protein.

  She was an Orc warrior with an athletic body.

  She had a need for meat that she couldn’t ignore at a racial level.

  Her plan had been to steal their meat when they fell asleep. It wasn’t until Marcus had spotted her, and Vince had sprung over with weapon in hand, that she’d changed her plans.

  Giving his head a shake, Vince returned to his own mind. Dark black eyes gazed up at him, waiting. They were large eyes, to the point that she nearly had no whites.

  Willing his arm to move, he wanted to separate her head from her neck and be done with it.

  And he couldn’t.

  He’d killed quite a few Wasters. No small number of Orcs.

  And he couldn’t.

  Gritting his teeth, he felt his heart deny him the ability to kill her.

  She was too human now.

  He knew her.

  Her skin was green, she had a set of tusks, her strength was greater than a human’s, and she sported a pair of pointed ears, but other than that, as a race, they shared more than they differed.

  Instead of letting his thinking go further, or killing her, he untied the pouch of rabbit meat on his hip and dropped it into her lap.

  Dislodging the sword from her flesh, he carefully slid the edge from her throat. He watched her for a few seconds without really seeing her.

  Slowly, he lifted his sword up and wiped the blade clean on the edge of his tunic. Her blood smeared the fabric in a bright red streak.

  Deliberately, he sheathed his sword and then began to take slow, cautious steps back from her.

  Her eyes darted from him to the sack and then back to him.

  Holding up his hands, empty hands, he took another step, and then turned around. Putting his back to her.

  Calmly, slowly, he walked out of the trees and back to his companions. They had a number of months to go. He’d have to catch more wild game tomorrow.

  They had more than enough dried rations for a bland but filling meal.

  Most of all, he knew without a doubt the Orc woman wouldn’t trouble them further.

  Chapter 2

  They spent longer in the central Wastes than he would have wanted. Marcus managed to hurt himself climbing a ruin foolishly. It forced them to a much slower pace for far too long.

  Their destination was Jacksonville, down in what was once called Florida.

  Whatever Jacksonville had been in its past life, it was more of a fort now. A city perched on a shore that they didn’t dare leave. The fear of the monsters that inhabited the deep waters kept humanity land-based.

  Vince and his wards had yet to cross the Mississippi River, but they were only a few hours from one of the few maintained outposts in the Wastes.

  The Wastelanders were on both sides of the river, of course, but for whatever reason, their presence on the eastern side of the river was diminished. The Wasters that could be found past the river were typically far closer to human in appearance and temperament.

  Vince was on high alert because they were so close to the river. The few times he’d had a true brush with death had almost always been near the river. Local Wasters had figured out a long time ago that humans would cross the river. And only in certain places.

  Many had begun treating it as a predator would a watering hole.

  Wait, watch, ambush.

  Marcus and Gator were chatting amicably as they walked along the dirt path. Vince hadn’t wanted to risk much, and so he had them taking a back-brush path rather than the patrolled and more frequently traveled road.

  He’d already tried to hush the two men several times and had finally given up. They spoke in hushed voices, but seemed unable to remain silent for any length of time.

  Drop ’em off, get our pay, get to the board, pick up several courier messages, get back home.

  Vince couldn’t deny he was looking forward to a return to his little home on the edges of wasteland territory.

  In fact, he’d privately cursed himself almost every step of the way on this agonizing escort job. He’d promised himself over and over again he’d never do another one after this.

  At least until I can’t get a courier job. Again.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d promised himself such a thing. Nor did he doubt it to be the last.

  Vince’s ears picked up the sounds of someone, or something, crashing through the bushes off to their right. Heading right for them.

  Only thing off in that direction is swamp.

  At that moment, a group of reptile-men burst out of the brush, growling and hissing. They were on the nastier side of the Waster population.

  Wasters could be anything, really. From undead to elementals. Creatures that more resembled humans with animal traits, and monsters that looked more like animals on two legs.

  These were the monsters-on-two-legs version. They truly looked like alligators on two legs.

  And to Vince, they looked as if they knew what they planned to do before having even seen the humans. All six of them were already moving straight for Marcus and Gator.

  Unsheathing his saber, Vince stepped off the path and into the way of the six assailants.

  “Make for the crossing. Don’t wait. Go,” Vince hissed, bringing his blade up. Marcus and Gator took to flight, their booted feet pounding at the dirt as they listened immediately.

  If they could have listened when I told them to shut up, that would have been great. This is why I don’t do escort missions. I could outrun these damn things.

  The alligator-men clutched small, crude weapons in their scaly paws. The lead attacker leapt at him, forgetting the weapo
n in his hand and looking to try and clamp his massive jaws around Vince.

  Stepping to one side, Vince flourished his blade, separating from its neck. The gator-man’s head tumbled to the ground, its body slapping into the ground.

  The second gator in line tracked Vince and came in swinging. It was a low swipe, aimed for Vince’s knee.

  Sliding back a step and then darting forward, Vince unleashed a piercing strike. After he skewered the reptile between the eyes, it went limp and nearly took Vince’s sword with it.

  Unfortunately, the third opponent attacked Vince before he could recover from slaying the second.

  An obsidian dagger was slammed into his shoulder above the line of his leather armor chest guard. Then it was ripped out of his shoulder with a vicious jerk.

  Before Vince could respond, the fourth leaned in and clamped its wide mouth around Vince’s forearm protector.

  Growling, Vince managed to get his saber up and run it through the throat of the biter.

  Pushing off from the slumping dead weight of the dying gator, Vince felt the knife sink into the side of his stomach.

  His foe had angled up under the edge of the leather armor. It sank in a few inches from his navel.

  Stumbling backwards, Vince got his saber up into position again. The three remaining gators looked to him and then to their dead on the ground.

  Vince fell to a knee as his body started to give out underneath him. He wasn’t sure if the bastard had nicked something, but he knew he was in trouble. He was sure he’d been in worse scenarios, but none came to mind.

  Pressing a hand to his side for a moment, he pulled it away to check his palm. It was coated in bright blood.

  Damn.

  He pushed his hand back into place to try and stanch the blood, and then Vince started to rise. A pulse of blackness washed over him and threatened to put him back to the dirt.

  A forearm came over the top of his head and clamped down around his chest from behind. A light green hand gripped tightly to his wrist, locking his weapon in place, and began dragging him backwards.

  Looking over his shoulder, he saw the profile of an Orc as the edges of his vision continued to darken.

  Damn, damn.

  Looking straight ahead as his chin began to feel far too heavy for his neck, he watched as the living gator-men fell on their dead and dying companions for a feast.

  As the last of his strength fled him, he realized the Orc was dragging him deep into the bushes.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Vince’s eyes creaked open, then closed again.

  Alive?

  Slowly, determinedly, he managed to pry his eyelids apart.

  Up above him, the foliage of trees danced to and fro, leaves spinning in a gentle breeze. Far beyond that was the blue sky.

  Screwing his eyes up in pain, Vince started to go through a checklist of body parts.

  Head, shoulders, elbows, hands. Okay, good. Chest, stomach… specialized manly gear that he couldn’t imagine living without… knees, feet.

  Everything was accounted for.

  Tilting his head, he tried to get a look at his shoulder. That gator had punched a hole deep into the muscle.

  The wound was sutured closed and smeared liberally with… something. Something that stank.

  Turning his attention down south and discovering that he was naked, he found his stomach had had similar work done.

  That, and apparently his specialized equipment was giving him a proud and strong salute.

  Can’t be too much wrong with me if the little soldier is standing at attention.

  Looking around, he did a surroundings check.

  Wedged into a clump of bushes, he was laid out in the dead center of them. To his eyes, it looked like an animal had denned here for a while and then left. It was a small enclosure, protected from prying eyes and the wind, which might even help obscure his scent.

  Then he noticed the motionless Orc. It was crouched low in one of the walls of bushes.

  A second after noticing it, he realized it was the same one he’d come across months previously. She was staring back at him with those large, dark eyes.

  Blinking once, he strained to look at her, wanting to make sure it really was the same Orc.

  Long black hair pulled back behind her long-tipped ears. Where her arms and legs had been exposed previously, she now had roughly cured and tanned hides covering her limbs.

  Her face was smooth, lacking all emotion. As if she were studying him as he studied her.

  Her lips were generous, her nose straight and slim, her cheekbones high, her jaw sleek and trim.

  In terms of beauty, he found her oddly disconcerting. She had a face that would actually be considered cute, perhaps bordering on being a little pretty.

  Then again, when was the last time I really looked at an Orc like this? When was the last time I didn’t kill them simply out of hand?

  The Orc move forward, her eyes settling on his torso.

  Her lips peeled back as she sniffed twice at him. She had tusks, as all members of her race did. But they tucked cleanly into her upper lip. They looked like large canines more than anything.

  Unable to move or do much of anything, Vince watched, wondering what the hell she was up to. Orcs didn’t patch humans up. They didn’t drag them off from a fight they were losing to save them.

  Then she wrapped a green hand around his member. Her hands were callused, but the touch was soft. Light. Hesitant.

  Betraying Vince’s own desires, his little soldier simply continued to direct all attention skyward.

  Vince’s eyes had gone wide at the suddenness of her action.

  Giving him a thoughtful tug, she sniffed again at the air. The pull had been cautious, a curious testing.

  He got the impression she wasn’t sure about his genitalia. Then again, he could have been the first human she’d seen in person. Let alone naked.

  Much to his embarrassment, he felt his heartrate speed up. Though on second thought, he couldn’t tell if it was fear of what the fuck she was doing or excitement at what the fuck she could do.

  After a heartbeat of nothing further from her, she turned her head to stare into his eyes.

  The Orc warrior murmured something in a feminine yet low, rumbling voice. He swore it had a question attached to the end of it.

  “I’m-I’m sorry I don’t speak your language. Ah…” Vince said unhelpfully.

  The Orc repeated the same phrase, though this time the question sounded more like a statement. He only made out the last word that sounded a lot like Fes.

  “Fes,” Vince said aloud, nodding his head. At this point, he’d repeat whatever the hell she wanted like a parrot so long as she didn’t tear his member clean off.

  The Orc’s eyebrows came together over her dark black eyes. With her free hand, she reached out and tapped his chest with her fingers and said something.

  Then she touched her own chest, and repeated “Fes.”

  It’s her name?

  “Fes,” Vince parroted.

  At that, the Orc grunted, her eyebrows smoothing again. Apparently she was satisfied with that response.

  Dismissing him, her eyes turned back down to his private part held in her hand. Speaking quietly to what he assumed was herself, she waggled him a little. Her words sounded like she was speaking her thoughts aloud.

  Finally, she released him. Much to his great joy and secret shame. Then she gently pressed her fingers to his side. She pushed at the wound, dragging her thumb along the stitches. Then she repeated the process for his shoulder.

  Now that he thought about it, they looked markedly healed. Far more than they should have been.

  Actually, how long have I been out?

  Content with whatever she saw there, she reached to his side.

  He recognized his canteen in her hand at the same time his mouth told him he was as parched as a desert.

  Unscrewing the cap with long green fingers, she held it over his mouth.


  He opened it in mute acceptance for her, and she began to pour its contents into his mouth.

  It had a slight woody taste to it, but the sweet wetness of it on his dry tongue nearly brought him to tears.

  She paused at times, allowing him to swallow. All too soon, she re-stoppered the canteen and set it to one side.

  His head started to tingle, and his hands and feet went numb within minutes.

  Oh. I see.

  It was the only thought he managed before he was swept into the nothing that was a medicated sleep.

  Vince’s eyes snapped open. He recognized the leaves above him, even though it was night now. The air had a bite to it, but he didn’t feel cold. He caught the twinkle of a star or two between the branches.

  Feeling weak all over, sore, and tender at the same time, he realized he wasn’t going to be getting himself to safety anytime soon. He doubted he could wrestle a kitten right now.

  His eyes began to take in the small amount of light available. He’d always had better than normal night vision, and for once felt thankful for those non-normal gifts of his.

  Inspecting his surroundings again, his eyes found he was unmoved from where he’d awoken last.

  He couldn’t even assume this was the same day from when he was last awake.

  Well, that wasn’t quite right. He’d clearly been moved an inch or two, but he imagined that had been probably to check either his wounds or… well, to clean him up if he’d had an accident while he slept.

  Being forced to sleep didn’t preclude his body from relieving itself of waste, after all.

  Looking down to himself, he found the Orc woman pressed up into his side, her knee draped over his hips and one hand on his shoulder, her head on the grass next to his injured shoulder.

  Not being cold made a bit more sense now. That and the fact that the woman felt like a damn furnace. She put out enough body heat for her and him.

  Belatedly, he realized she was awake. Awake and watching him from inches away.

  Clearing his throat softly, he tried the only word he knew, the one he assumed was her name.

  “Fes?” he asked.

  She nodded once at that, lifting her head fractionally from the grass.