by Perrin Briar
She did not feel like seeing any Grayskins today, even if they were helping.
“A few, but I’ll keep them outside the town for now,” Quinn said.
The sun was getting higher, and they were getting hungry. A few hundred yards later they were walking by the church. It was The First Freewill Baptist Church, according to the hand-painted sign out front. The windows were gone, leaving behind the warped windowpanes. The church looked like it could have held the entire town’s population.
The building across from it was a mom-and-pop grocery store. There was a Coke machine in front, along with a freezer that used to hold bags of ice. Siren imagined pickup trucks pulling up to the store to fill their coolers with ice and beer on the way to a day of fishing. She wondered if there was a lake closeby.
“Let’s stop in here,” she said. “See what’s left.”
Quinn nodded. They pushed open the glass door. Siren scanned the aisles quickly. Not much floor space, so the shelves went almost to the ceiling. Certainly high enough that neither of them could see over the top. It was not much more than a convenience store, but they had what used to be a deli counter. Along the front wall was a small section for candy. Farther down were cleaning supplies. The candy was gone, the cleaning section alone was untouched. The middle aisle was packed with baking supplies, cereal, and other dry goods. Canned goods were in back.
Siren saw her opportunity. She turned to Quinn.
“Not much here,” Quinn said. “Certainly no shotgun shells. Maybe some matches.”
“Yeah, I’m just going to check the canned goods,” Siren said.
“Okay, but I don’t see anything worth taking here,” Quinn said. “I’m going outside to look around.”
Quinn turned and left.
Siren walked to the last aisle against the back of the store and proceeded to the end, where a door led to a small stockroom. She went through. It was dark, no windows. Aprons hung on nails by the door, brooms and mops leaning against the wall by a big sink.
There was no stock in the stockroom. And no other furniture save a desk against the wall shared with the sales floor. Beside it was a safe, probably full of useless money. Another door led out the back of the store. She went through it and cast around. No one was there. She had to be more vigilant now. She would not be able to depend on Quinn to keep the Grayskins in check.
Siren needed to put some distance between her and Quinn before he noticed she was gone. Back at the Caldwell farm, he said he could not hold her. But she did not believe he would not try.
Further into town were more shops. One block away from the main street was city hall, and another building, perhaps a library or sheriff’s office. All of them were long ago abandoned.
The first green shoots of spring were showing in the overgrown grass along the sidewalks. Beyond were houses. Probably places where the few folks that worked in town had lived.
Siren walked one block behind the store and broke into a trot, heading deeper into town. She checked the horizon, like she would on the motorcycle, searching for any sign of trouble.
Through her peripheral vision, much more effective than it was at one hundred miles an hour, she searched the bushes and tall grass for anything moving that should not be. She did not want her face to be chewed off just as she was breaking free from Quinn’s grasp.
She passed the backs of an auto shop, a drugstore, and a dress shop. All stores faced the main drag. Freedom pulsed in her veins. The sense of self-reliance returning. All thoughts of Wyvern and Quinn faded the most distance she put between herself and him.
She passed a café, and another church. It must be the Methodist church. It was actually made of brick. She slowed down. She needed to look at highway signs to make sure she did not just walk in front of Quinn so he could catch up.
She looked toward Main Street as she walked, breathing heavy. Part excitement, part fear. On the other side of the church, she was sure to find road signs. She walked toward it. She stepped around the corner.
As her foot set down, a hand gripped her arm tightly, painfully. She looked up into a red face, a beard topped by tiny black eyes that seemed to have no white in them at all.
The man pulled her toward him and grabbed her other arm with his other hand. Siren struggled, but the man’s grip was like a vice. She looked up.
He was not alone.
Chapter Twenty
A TORRENT of emotional keys flooded Siren’s brain. How could she be so blind to this rage and evil? Where had her mind been? She thought she had been vigilant and watchful, but she had been so focused on identifying Grayskins that she hadn’t spotted uninfected right in front of her. The nervousness she felt upon entering the grocery store had been a warning, but it had gone unheeded.
The Raider who held her by the neck delivered a right hook directly to her jaw. Her head pounded and no thoughts could form. Then the pain came, straight up from her jaw to her ear, nose, eyes, into her brain. She was fully awake and opened her eyes wide to see her attacker.
He did not look angry. He was grinning. The black-eyed, red-faced man had hold of her arms again as she tried, in vain, to find the energy to kick. Two more came in from the side to hold her legs.
This thought was quickly replaced by terror as she realized their intentions. She looked around, wondering how many more there were. Her heart was in her throat when she saw a bunch more. Three? Four? It was hard to tell. They were walking toward her, grinning ear to ear.
Realizing it was not going to get any easier, she struggled with all her might to get free. The big man in front of her hit her in her stomach with his bulbous head. It felt like something inside her had exploded. She coughed. He slapped her, open palmed, across the face again.
“Please!” Siren said.
The men laughed. Gathering some kind of power for thought, whatever she had left, Siren reached out to Compel them, Pushing the delight swarming in their minds. But it was no good.
Compulsion was good at gently tugging emotions, subtle movements. These men were fully focused on the here and now, for the pleasure to come. They were not fearful nor afraid. They paid no attention to her efforts at all. They were already in a frenzy. Siren began to wail.
“Shut up, bitch!” the man holding her said. “We’ll give you plenty to whine about. Hold her down.”
The man could wait no longer. He ripped her white cotton blouse like it was tissue paper, leaving her exposed. The others laughed and jeered.
“Get that jacket off!” the man ordered.
Another man seized her jacket and pulled, stripping it from her shoulders. The black-eyed man took up his knife and started splitting the legs of Siren’s jeans from the bottom up, occasionally nicking her skin.
Adrenaline pulsed like a river in Siren’s system. She thought she might pass out from sheer terror. She reached out and Pulled, focusing all her energy toward bringing someone to help, anyone to disrupt what was happening. She didn’t feel any response, anyone nearby. All she Sensed was the fear and lust of the men touching her, grabbing her, ripping her clothes off.
As she Pulled, her power affected the men too. They held her tighter and started battling harder to get close to her. But the black-eyed man fought them off. Having disposed of her jeans, he ripped off her panties and started unbuckling his belt.
Siren whined, crying. This only seemed to make her attacker want her more. He pulled down his pants.
Then suddenly he was gone.
The other men holding her disappeared as well. Siren scrambled to cover herself and run, but the blows she’d received had had a lasting effect, and she fell to the ground.
She was aware of screams, cries and growls, but didn’t turn to look at the cause until a moment later.
The Raiders had been pulled away by Grayskins. The group surrounded her, grunting, growling, ravenous. The Raiders held up their hands, to push the Grayskins away so they could run. But the Grayskins bit off their fingers and sank their teeth into the Raiders’ arms. Bl
ood spurted, throats torn. The walking corpses licked their lips as they moved in and descended on Siren’s attackers, feasting on them.
Quinn ran to Siren and wrapped her in his jacket. She was shaking, still terrified by what was happening in front of her. Quinn picked up her jacket from the ground and helped her put it around her waist.
Siren held on to Quinn as he supported her and led her back down the street to the dress shop. He didn’t say a word as he deposited her in a changing room and picked some clothes for her. His choice was random. Anything, for her to cover up her nakedness and recover. Then she could choose her own clothes.
Quinn sat outside the changing rooms as Siren cried and whimpered, coming to terms what what had almost happened. He understood the need for her to be by herself right then. It was what she wanted, needed. But he was there for her in case she needed him.
After ten minutes, twenty, it was hard to be sure, Siren’s survival instinct kicked in. She stopped crying and wiped the tears from her face. She put on the clothes Quinn had selected and stepped out of the changing room.
Quinn got to his feet. He wore a concerned expression, but did not question her. Siren straightened up, raising her chin. Her eyes shimmered and she bit her lip to keep it from quivering.
“Thank you,” she said, looking directly into his eyes.
She had run away, and he had come to help her. Whatever his intentions were with the Grayskins and the living, and whatever had happened in their past, today he stood by her when he did not have to. He could have punished her, letting those men do what they wanted with her, and then allowed himself to discover her, but he hadn’t. He’d shown his human side.
Quinn barely nodded. Siren understood. She could Sense his emotions—stronger than ever before. He was angry, furious. He enjoyed the screams of the Raiders, and strained to hear them. She had to admit to herself that she felt a satisfaction from this as well. It was confusing. They were human, living, like her and Quinn. Who were the real monsters? The Grayskins? Or the Raiders?
Chapter Twenty-One
QUINN tried not to look at Siren. To do so brought fear and anger coursing through his veins. To take advantage of someone when they were weak and alone was not something he could accept.
Though he couldn’t say with any certainty the way Siren felt about him, especially since she had tried to run from him, he still cared for her. The ‘thank you’ she’d uttered before told him much more about her attitude toward him than the words themselves.
The store had a very good selection of color and clothing sizes, but not much in the way of style. Siren quickly found underwear and slipped into a dressing room to put it on. Then she located a new dress and a first aid kit to repair the injuries to her face and thighs. Quinn only had one regret, and that was that he hadn’t made the Raiders suffer more.
Walking out of the dressing room, Siren looked at herself in a full length mirror. Quinn was pleased. The baby blue went well with her dark hair, but he could see the style was a bit conservative for Siren, like something a nurse would wear.
“What do you think?” she said.
Quinn smiled.
“Really?” he said. “What, do you have a job interview or something?”
They shared a laugh. Siren’s ended first, her face scrunching up like she was going to start crying again.
“Seriously, you look great,” Quinn said. “Are you keeping the boots?”
Siren looked down. Her boots had served her well, and if they worked, why change them? They were now molded to her feet like a second skin. There was a wall with a few shoes on display, a much smaller selection than the dresses. She found a pair of pumps in her size. Practical enough for walking, and subtle enough for her current ensemble too. She put them on.
She walked back to where Quinn was sitting on the top of the sales counter. She held up her boots. Quinn enjoyed watching Siren, for once looking like the young woman she was, emerge from her tough shell. Her other side, the Ronin in her—the roaming, masterless warrior—would not want to part with those boots. But to the emerging creature, a new look was required.
“I’ll carry these,” Siren said. “Good boots are hard to find.”
“We’ll need to find your backpack,” Quinn said.
Their eyes met, both thinking of what the scene would look like on the other side of the church. It was entirely too soon for Siren to have to confront that.
“I’ll go,” Quinn said. “You stay here.”
Siren relaxed. Quinn jumped off the counter and walked quickly toward the door, then grabbed something out of his own backpack and tossed it to her, smiling.
“Here,” he said. “I got something for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
QUINN jogged back to Siren and handed over her backpack. Siren was standing in front of the dress shop holding a foil packet with a colorful label on it.
Siren had brushed her hair and let it fall down her back. She looked beautiful in the afternoon sun.
“Where did you get this?” she said, impressed.
“You know what it is?” Quinn said.
“Of course I do,” Siren said. “It’s freeze-dried ice cream. They have it at the Space Center in Houston. It’s supposed to be similar to what the first astronauts ate in space.”
“They had some at the counter at a random crap store,” Quinn said. “That’s when I felt your Pull. I thought it would be fun to remember what ice cream tasted like.”
Siren’s smile faded. She looked down in thoughtful repose.
“Quinn, I was running away from you,” she said.
“I know,” Quinn said. Then he smiled. “I’m not as bad as you think I am, you know. I don’t expect you to just trust me. But it’s true. I hope one day you’ll come to realize I’m just trying to help people.”
Siren kept her eyes on the sidewalk. Dare she let herself trust him, trust someone who was not herself, or her brother?
“Hey, did you see a library somewhere?” Quinn said.
“I think it’s a block over, close to city hall,” Siren said. “Why?”
“Well, there’s no need to be in a hurry now,” Quinn said. “Let’s go check it out.”
The library was extremely small. There was a desk in front of a plate-glass window looking out at the street. Across from the desk were a couple of nice leather chairs. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, a two-sided shelf unit in the middle short enough to see over.
Another room was in the back populated mostly with children’s books. Siren and Quinn dropped their backpacks. Quinn leaned the shotgun against the wall next to the door. Siren plopped down in one of the chairs and relaxed, letting the freeze-dried ice cream dissolve in her mouth. Quinn began to roam the aisles looking at the titles of the books.
“Mostly popular stuff,” he said. “Bestsellers, you know. Who’s your favorite?”
Siren looked up and thought about it.
“I never liked reading much,” she said. “But we had to read Tom Sawyer for school. I kind of liked that one.”
“Classics, eh?” Quinn said, looking for it in vain. “Sorry, don’t have it.”
He walked toward the desk to see if there was anything useful there. Siren looked at Quinn.
“So what’s it like?” she said.
Quinn continued searching through the drawers of the librarian’s desk.
“What’s what like?” he asked without looking up.
“What’s it like to Compel the Grayskins?” Siren said.
Quinn looked up. Siren looked genuinely curious.
“Well,” Quinn said, returning to his search. “They’re always there. I Sense them. Sometimes I try not to, but as time goes by and I need them like I did today, the ability to Sense and that presence in my mind seems more sensitive. I can’t really not Sense them, even for a short time. From there it’s just a matter of grouping them together in my mind and thinking of what I want them to do.”
“Do you ever worry that you’
re going to suddenly think of the wrong thing, like them attacking you?” Siren said.
“And they’ll carry it out?” Quinn said. “No. It doesn’t really work like that. They’re more like standing orders. It takes effort, I have to concentrate. They would attack me, of course. But it’d need to be a powerful thought, not a passing one. I can’t find anything here. Why are you interested?”
“No reason,” Siren said, looking out the window.
“So what’s it like from your point of view?” Quinn said. “Compelling the living?”
“It sounds similar, I mean, the way you describe what goes on in your head,” Siren said. “But I don’t seem to have as tight a control as you. It’s all mushy. It works sometimes, best when things are very calm. It’s like I can increase an emotion, but if it’s already going strong…”
“I understand,” Quinn said. “People are more complex than Grayskins. I can tell them to do anything, and they respond immediately. The living, they have emotions and thoughts. It’ll be harder to influence them.
“You know what I think is one of my greatest points? The fact I’m never alone. The Grayskins are always with me, even if it’s just as a pinpoint of light in my mind. They are always there when I need them.”
“But if you’re forcing them, how valuable can that kind of companionship be?” Siren said.
“It’s not like you and me sitting here talking,” Quinn said. “It’s not that kind of companionship. It’s like having a dog that loves you. You can’t always get a response from her. Not a verbal one. But you can talk to her.”
“At least a dog is alive,” Siren said. “You talk about bringing the living and Grayskins together. Why should I care about people like those Raiders who just tried to rape me?”
So that was the reason for her questions, Quinn thought. She was having trouble understanding why she should be concerned about them.
“They’re not all like the Raiders,” Quinn said with compassion in his voice. “Some are kind and good. Like the Caldwells. Like the people at Whitegate. Like your brother.
