BADLANDS
BIJOU HUNTER
Copyright © 2020 Bijou Hunter
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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For more information about this series and author, please visit her website.
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Cover
Photographer: Alan Poulson
Source: Depositphotos
Cover Copyright © 2020 Bijou Hunter
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Dedication
To SaMiJaMaLu
My betas—Sarah, Debbie, Cynthia, & Carina
&
Light Hand Proofreading
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Summary
I am a weapon. She is the slave of a cult.
The moment I see her, I can never walk away. Even if saving her means spilling blood.
The Children of the Black Sun will chase us through the forsaken badlands to retrieve what I’ve stolen from them.
The cult believes God is on their side, and I’m the devil sent to destroy them. Well, they’re half right.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
≫ONE SPENT SHELL≪
FRIDA
KAI
FRIDA
≫TWO SPENT SHELLS≪
KAI
FRIDA
KAI
FRIDA
NERI
KAI
SUNNY
≫THREE SPENT SHELLS≪
KAI
SUNNY
≫FOUR SPENT SHELLS≪
KAI
SUNNY
NERI
KAI
≫FIVE SPENT SHELLS≪
SUNNY
KAI
SUNNY
NERI
KAI
NERI
SUNNY
≫SIX SPENT SHELLS≪
KAI
NERI
SUNNY
NERI
SUNNY
NERI
≫SEVEN SPENT SHELLS≪
KAI
NERI
KAI
SHELLSHOCK PREVIEW
ABOUT BIJOU
≫ONE SPENT SHELL≪
FRIDA
There is no escape from the prison my father sentenced me to years ago. I can’t run, fight, or even die. This hell is my eternity.
I wish I were dead inside. Many of the women in the Children of the Black Sun learn to numb their hearts. Others embrace the insanity of the lies drilled in our heads at the homestead.
I can do neither. This place is more than my hell. It’s the home of the child I had no choice in creating. I wish I didn’t love Anika. I never wanted to be a mother. Every part of creating her, carrying her, and giving birth to her was a nightmare. But Anika’s the only light in my dark life.
The homestead’s leader, Jedediah, claims our community lifts each member. Every woman is a mother to every child. We succeed as one or perish together. But those are lies.
I see how each mother seeks out her own child when it cries. Anika isn’t safe without me. A lack of care at the homestead kills children, but the leaders blame the world’s sins for the deaths. I went to the doctor when I was little and before I came to this hell. That’s how things worked in the outside world.
But Jedidiah claims those medicines were poison. A godly way of life will heal those worthy of help. If Anika gets sick without me to care for her, will anyone even comfort her? Only I love her.
Running with her isn’t an option. Even if I could escape alone, Anika would be punished for having my sinful blood running through her veins.
But escaping is a fantasy. There’s no way to break free. I’m always watched. The women spy on each other, and the shepherds punish those viewed as craving sin.
Even in my dreams, I can’t picture leaving this place. Where could I go if I somehow escaped with Anika? My mother is dead. My father is a shepherd. I was told my grandparents died after I came here. Even if they were alive, how would I find them? I don’t even remember my last name.
With no family or money, my baby and I would starve if we escaped. Or someone evil—and the outside world is filled with evil according to Jedidiah—could hurt us worse than those at the homestead.
Dreaming of freedom feels as silly as wanting to fly to the moon. Hoping for more is a sin, and sin requires punishment.
Instead of wishing for a miracle, I submit to this life. I’ve trained myself to survive. I teach the same submission to Anika. My little girl loves to laugh and play, but she’s learning to accept her lot in life. Just like I did when my father brought me here.
Every day, I work at the roadside vegetable stand run by the Children of the Black Sun. Other women sell blankets and trinkets made at the homestead. Some sell milk and beet juice. I’m in charge of the vegetables—potatoes, corn, and green beans when the earth blesses our crops.
Tourists and people from a nearby town tempt me with memories of the outside world. Jedediah says I’m still marked from my time around evil. He claims I’m quick to sin. This is why I require more punishment than the other women. I’m wrong in a way that might never wash away. The devil lingers in my thoughts while the others only hear the word of God.
Tempted by thoughts of my old life, I stand at the vegetable stall and repeat the rules in my head to ensure I won’t forget. Never make eye contact. Don’t smile. Never speak unless spoken to.
The other women follow the rules so easily. This hell is all they’ve ever known. When we arrived at the homestead years ago, my father begged the other men to forgive him. He’d taken so long to leave behind the sinful world. He swore we could be cleansed.
“I was weak,” he moaned. “Seduced by the lies.”
I rarely see my father anymore. He lives in a different hutch and lacks any interest in me or his granddaughter. As a shepherd, he’s provided more power and indulgences. I was the price he paid to gain entry to this world. Once he gave me to the Children of the Black Sun, he only saw his own salvation and pleasure.
For members of the flock like me, the homestead offers few luxuries. Only those on the council and select shepherds enjoy entertainment. They’ve earned their rewards while the rest of us must suffer from the noise in our minds.
“Clear your thinking,” Jedediah often says during his hours-long sermons. “Erase everything beyond your purpose. Only then, may you find freedom from the outside world’s corruption.”
But I can’t completely forget the music and the movies and how people laughed and acted like fools. They’re free while I’m not.
Even unable to forget, I stick to the rules. When I fail, I suffer. Early on, my father was punished for my failures. He’s glorified now, but Anika has reached the age of instruction. I can’t allow her to suffer for my sins.
At the roadside stall, I keep my eyes focused on the ground. I never show emotion. I speak in barely more than a whisper. The locals know how women from the homestead behave. They understand to lean in to hear us speak. It was this way long before I was born, and it’ll be this way long after I fail for the last time.
Since
the locals understand, I’m never tested during my daily work here. Next to me, Anika stands on a chair and smiles at everyone. Her presence encourages locals and travelers to buy from our vegetable stall rather than the others on this road. Shepherd Kenneth uses my beautiful daughter as bait, but I’m relieved she can feel free for a few hours.
Unlike my baby, I show no emotion. Anika tries to make me smile, but I won’t give in. Later at the homestead, we can sneak away from the others and hide in the woods. We’ll play tag like my mother played with me. But at the roadside stall, I can’t risk angering Shepherd Kenneth.
Today, the road is filled with cars. Craving fresh local foods, people ignore our oddness. Even the strangers traveling to bigger and better places don’t mind us. Sometimes, I let my mind dream of where they’re going and if I’ll ever see that world. But mostly, I remain completely focused on the rules.
Shepherd Kenneth stands too close. He doesn’t like me. I’m too filled with sin from my childhood in the world. Kenneth always watches me with his cold, blue eyes. I can tell he wants to punish someone today.
His anger is all that warms him. Every day, I see how he leers at the local women. Their casual clothing reveals too much skin. The women at the homestead wear long-sleeved brown shirts covered by ankle-length beige dress overalls. Most of our skin is covered, and we don’t wear makeup or perfume. We are sexless objects, while local women and tourists are sexual beings. Shepherd Kenneth both covets and loathes them. Women in the outside world can’t be harmed, but we’re fair game.
He often strikes me at the vegetable stall. One time, a highway officer was nearby but did nothing. Why would he? Everyone in these parts knows the Children of the Black Sun live by different rules.
When my father first brought me to the homestead, I’d never known violence. My mother used time-outs and grounding to create order in our house. Father showed little interest in me until he wanted to join the Children of the Black Sun. With no money, he needed a payment worthy of acceptance.
My body offered him entry. The first time one of the shepherds struck me, I was shocked. I cried, gnashing my teeth, howling in shock and pain. How could they behave this way? Don’t they know the laws? I had rights.
But at the homestead, away from the prying eyes of the world, there are no privileges for someone like me. Knowing my worth now, I always submit.
Today, Kenneth’s more agitated than usual. Earlier, a mixed-race man and woman bought a bag of vegetables from us. A youthful couple blessed with beauty and grace, they moved from one stall to another. We see thousands of tourists over the year, but Shepherd Kenneth was particularly offended by the handsome stranger’s light brown skin.
Most people find the shepherds intimidating. Even tourists know to avoid their gazes. Yet the stranger stared straight at Shepherd Kenneth and refused to look away. I peeked at them, startled by how the handsome man wasn’t intimidated at all. His golden-brown eyes dared Kenneth to back up his silent threats. When the shepherd did nothing, the man revealed a breathtaking smile.
I’ve never seen a man as beautiful as the one who made Kenneth flinch. No matter how many times I repeat the rules in my head, thoughts of him linger long after he leaves our stall.
Shepherd Kenneth can’t forget him either. Restless, he moves away from me and looms over another one of the young women. Adelheid shrinks in fear as he growls threats in her ear.
With his attention off me, I take this moment to glance at Anika. Waiting forever for me to acknowledge her, my four-year-old daughter immediately smiles. Her dark blonde hair is pulled back in a tight braid to mimic mine and the other women’s. I love the sight of her bright face, round cheeks, and happy brown eyes. When she smiles, I can almost forget I’m in hell.
Sharing her joy, I smile.
It’s only a second of pleasure.
But that’s a second too long.
Anika sees Kenneth’s hand before I do. He strikes me across the face, sending me tumbling to the dirt. My gaze flashes to Anika. Losing her smile and lowering her head, she submits to his authority. Her happiness is evil. We can never wash away our filth. We are lowly. Men like Kenneth are godly. We must submit. Nothing will ever change.
I accept these facts, but Anika sees me on the ground, forgets the rules, and unleashes a pained wail. Shocking me, Kenneth grabs my tearful baby by the root of her braid and lifts her trembling body off the chair.
Her cry chokes off in terror, and I reach for her. Full of unsatisfied rage, Shepherd Kenneth forgets the many people on the road. Looking like the devil himself, he throws my daughter at me.
Anika slams against my body, shocking us both. Shaking wildly, I cradle my stunned daughter. She stares in my eyes with her big brown ones. She begs me to save and protect her, but I’m worthless.
My heart breaks, and I lose control of my willful nature. Unleashing a howl of misery, I’m helpless to protect this innocent child.
Kenneth’s face grows uglier at the sound of my cry. The people around us have barely begun to react. Only a few seconds have passed, but I feel as if everything is happening in slow motion.
I’m on the ground. My baby dangles by her hair. I see her flying toward me. My gaze searches for help from the other women. They stare in horror at my mullish behavior as Kenneth raises his fist to silence me.
Then the shepherd is on the ground with a hard thump.
Kenneth glares startled at me as if I’m the one who shoved him. He returns to his feet and prepares to fight.
The handsome stranger from earlier now effortlessly punches Kenneth. First in the throat, and then I hear the crack of his fist shattering the shepherd’s nose. Everything echoes in my head. Am I still crying? Is Anika?
The shepherd crashes to the ground, blood pouring from his face. I flinch when the stranger yanks Kenneth back to his feet. There’s another punch to the face, and down the shepherd goes again. When Kenneth pulls a knife, the stranger easily kicks away the weapon. Then he punches a kneeling Kenneth in the mouth.
The shepherd is a bloody mess in the dirt. My gaze flashes to the stranger standing over Kenneth. The exotic man finds me with his golden gaze, and I see freedom in his beautiful eyes. I can’t speak, move, or even think. Still shaking, Anika buries her face against my chest. Her little hands cling to my dress.
The stranger leaves Kenneth and walks to me. Kneeling down, he looks over Anika and then caresses my sore cheek.
“Do you want to leave with me?” he asks in a faintly accented voice.
The rules in my head demand I refuse to answer this man. Anika and I can never escape. This is our lot in life. We are slaves to the Children of the Black Sun.
But the man’s eyes hypnotize me.
“Yes,” I whisper, daring to reach for the salvation that the homestead will never offer.
Gasping voices behind him draw my attention. Kenneth remains on the ground. The other women cower together. The locals and visitors run in fear. They see what I now do. What the stranger can’t because his back is to Steven running toward us. The shepherd raises his rifle at this beautiful man.
I cover Anika’s eyes, waiting for the end to come.
For the stranger.
Me.
My baby.
The end comes with a loud gunshot.
KAI
The sight of subhuman trash slapping an angel feels as if someone has stabbed me in the heart. I see red. My holiday is over. The desire for violence seizes me.
Even before that moment, I’m on a mission. As soon as our eyes meet, I want this woman.
She wears a beige, shapeless dress. Her waist-long, fair brown hair is tied in a braid. Face devoid of makeup and emotion, she matches the other women at her vegetable stand. I notice a similar booth selling what looks to be used clothing and bedding.
Long after I should leave, I linger in the crowd at the roadside farmer’s market. Next to the woman is a foul man. I see the petty rage in his beady eyes. My skin—only slightly darker than his—no doub
t offends his sensibilities. I stand out in a sea of white faces. He can’t stop scowling in my direction.
What does he think when he sees me? Am I a foreigner unwanted in this lily-white world he pretends to rule? Does he think I’m a silly boy batting my long lashes at a pretty girl? Is it possible he views me as no more than a gnat to be swatted away?
The worm doesn’t see what I truly am—a weapon offering retribution.
Before the woman claims my heart, I’m on holiday. A simple exploration of the country of my parents’ birth. A road trip to understand the heart of the nation they left behind for the promise of rebirth in Nicaragua.
A primal need awakens in me when the woman’s gaze and mine meet. I need her. She’s mine. Her child will be mine too.
Neither belongs to the dirty worm lurking at their vegetable stand. He hungers for a fight but prefers one he can easily win. Early in my life, I was taught about men like him.
I am neither cold nor haunted like my father. He is a product of the world’s cruelty. I am pampered and loved—raised to demand what he couldn’t imagine desiring.
And now I long to steal away this woman from that man. I don’t need to know her name or the exact moment of his death.
Instead, I see past such small details to a time when she will know the tranquility my family found on the beaches of a foreign land. I will soon introduce her to our sanctuary in Playa Cielo.
I have met the woman that will be mine, and no one will keep us apart. I truly pity anyone who tries.
Trusting my instincts, I don’t attack yet. I’m waiting for a signal from the universe. In every situation, there is a right time. This afternoon, I wait for mine.
I pretend to care about the apples sold at a stall nearby, but I am only biding my time.
My gaze flashes to the woman. She reveals no emotion on her face, not even for the child. The man remains a vile presence, leering and standing too close to her. When he looks away, she provides her child with a single smile.
Such a simple gesture inspires the little girl to dance with joy.
Then, like a violent storm ending a beautiful day, the vile man ruins their happiness. I’m too slow to stop him from striking her. She falls out of view. The vile devil grabs the child and sends her flying at her mother.
Badlands (Spent Shells, #1) Page 1
