Repulsion (Compulsion Book 2)

by Perrin Briar

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  STAY AWAY! Please stay away!

  A Push. There was no mistaking it. It was faint and almost not even there. Like an echo of memory. But it wasn’t a memory. Siren was compelling him. Quinn stopped his crawl across the hard ground toward the junkyard and thought carefully.

  He’d dropped to all fours to traverse the last hundred yards to the junkyard, and paused, considering what he felt. He knew Siren could send signals out in all directions at no one in particular. But there was no way for him to know what she intended exactly. Compulsion was not telepathy.

  He thought back to when they were in Rafael’s office. Siren had been trying desperately to communicate with Quinn without letting anyone else in the room know what was going on. She had Pushed him then, too. Softly, he remembered. There was a curve and texture to it. She could not form words, but she could send messages by the way she Pushed.

  What was she trying to say? Was someone attacking her? Was she trying to Compel her attacker? When the Raiders got to her and she needed him, she had Pulled, not Pushed. Quinn’s heart beat faster as a mixture of fear and anger flooded him.

  Rafael, you bastard, he thought, if you have laid a hand on her…

  Quinn decided to move on, thinking Siren might need him, that more would become clear as he got closer. He tried to move forward, but discovered he was unable to move. His foot or his leg was caught on something.

  He jerked his leg, trying to free it, but he could not. He rolled on his side and looked back at his foot. Greer’s face was looking back at him, his hand gripping the ankle of Quinn’s boot.

  “Don’t go in there,” Greer said. “It’s a trap.”

  “How do you know?” Quinn said, wondering how his dad had snuck up on him.

  “He’s reduced the guard,” Greer said, releasing Quinn’s ankle and sat up resting his arm on his knee.

  “Why does that matter?” Quinn said. “There haven’t been any Grayskins coming around in the last couple days. Maybe he thinks they don’t need as many. I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “I’m interested in you,” Greer said. “Listen, by calling off the guards, he makes it easy for you to come in. But since he knows you’re coming, he can grab you or take you out. And maybe he even knows where you’re going, so he only has to put people there.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Quinn said, looking back toward the town.

  “Of course not,” Greer said. “But with you and me out here, and Siren in there, we can’t assume this is a good sign.”

  He paused, gazing at the stars for a moment. Then he looked back at Quinn.

  “It’s what I would do,” Greer said.

  Quinn looked deep into Greer’s eyes.

  “Rafael isn’t the brightest bulb, but he’s been around long enough to learn a few things,” he said.

  “What about Siren’s message?” Greer said. “I need to find out what’s going on.”

  “You’ll have to find out another way,” Quinn said. “Rafael has the advantage here. They will see you before you see them.”

  Quinn knew Greer was right. He had studied enough strategy to know this.

  “I felt her Push me earlier,” he said.

  “I felt it too,” Greer said. “What do you think it means?”

  Quinn thought more carefully. His emotions had had time to calm down since they had last been talking, and he wasn’t about to let Quinn face such odds on his own.

  “I think you’re right,” Quinn said. “She wants me to stay away for now. Something has changed, or she wants to be on her own.”

  They both sat back against a boulder. But I’m bringing in some reinforcements, Quinn thought. If Rafael’s ready, we’re going to be ready too. He closed his eyes and gathered the points of light in his mind.

  Awaken! Rally and prepare for battle!

  He Sensed the Grayskins rousing and moving, long hungry for human flesh. More! All of you under my command. Come now!

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “MISS BESS, what is his name?” a little girl asked, crayon in hand.

  “His name?” Bess said, walking across the classroom to the girl’s spot on the floor.

  “I want to write his name in so he’ll feel really welcome when he sees the sign,” the little girl said.

  She had written ‘WELCOME … TO YOUR NEW HOME,’ leaving a space for a Raider’s name.

  “We don’t know his name, sweetheart,” Bess said. “Why don’t you put ‘friend’ instead of his name?”

  Around the classroom, children were making welcome signs to put on the houses designated for the Raiders. Earlier, they had made streamers for the dining area and centerpieces for the tables. Everything was made from old supplies that Siren had found in the school, or recycled materials.

  Siren went from one child to another gently guiding them. She was tired. It had been a night without sleep.

  Rafael was surely still watching Siren, as he always had been. But he had sent her back to her own room and ordered her to continue working with Bess the following day. Siren was more than a little surprised. She had half-expected to be the next flogging victim.

  Rafael did not seem to understand the bad feelings his treatment of Emile had generated among the townspeople. She supposed he thought similar treatment of a young woman would be too much so soon. He had made his point. Explaining his problem with Siren would be too complicated.

  He could also just want to humiliate her. She had failed. She could do nothing against him. She would always fail. This is what Rafael wanted her to think.

  But if Rafael had the tiniest knack for strategy at all, he would have let her go so he could watch her. With Siren free, her actions would indicate Quinn’s actions and where that threat would come from. In any event, she would rather be free than imprisoned. And the whip was certainly not Siren’s idea of a good time, though she wondered if that would have caused a revolt and ended it all.

  The night had been spent lying in her room, thinking about these things, windows open, listening for the sound of a gunshot or an arrow striking a body. But there had been none.

  Hopefully, Quinn had received her Push and understood what it meant. Siren hated not knowing, though. Wherever Quinn was, she could not Sense him. She could not even Sense the entire town, only parts of it. She had heard nothing and Sensed nothing new. But she was so unsure of herself. She still thought Quinn might have been caught or killed, that she might have to watch him be flogged or his body dragged through town.

  “Siren,” Bess’s voice shocked Siren, as if out of a trance.

  “I’m sorry,” Siren smiled a little, embarrassed.

  “I know you’re having a rough time now,” Bess said. “A lot of us are real nervous about tonight. Just try to encourage the children. They need it. And I think it will make you feel better too.”

  Siren nodded and went back to helping one of the smaller children draw a picture of a house on one of the welcome signs. Outside, Rafael’s head guard stood just out of sight, watching Siren through a crack in the plastic covering of the broken window, like a deer hunter watching a salt lick.

  Elsewhere in Whitegate, rooms were being prepared for the Raiders. In an old grocery store, a large crew under Anne’s supervision was cleaning and making the building secure for food storage. At Rafael’s command, everyone was working to make things ready for the coming evening festivities. Down the street from Bess’s classroom, Emile was back at work.

  He needed help to walk around, because he got dizzy easily. He could not wear a uniform. His back had been cleaned and bandaged by a woman who was acting as the town’s doctor, though she had very little medical training. With excruciating pain he had managed to get into the largest shirt he had, and buttoned a few of the buttons.

  In the kitchen, he sat on a chair and gave orders, occasionally tasting something that was brought to him. The doctor was looking for any kind of pain reliever, but so far all Emile had available were a couple
of aspirin and some homemade wine.

  “Emile, we can’t put any more potatoes in the stew,” one of the assistants said.

  “If you don’t it will be like water,” Emile said, his voice slurred slightly from the wine. “We’ve already cut them so small they can barely be seen.”

  “But there won’t be anything for tomorrow or the rest of the week,” the assistant said.

  “Cook like there is no tomorrow,” Emile said. “After tonight, if what Rafael has told us is true, we will have all the food we need. Use everything!”

  Emile slumped and sighed, this little conversation having taken a lot of his energy. He was tired and in pain, but he wasn’t about to let the biggest party ever go down without doing his best to make the food tasty, healthy, and beautiful. It was just what he did.

  Siren looked out the window of the classroom as the children put away their supplies and gathered up their signs and decorations to take to The Corral. So far, it had been a quiet day. She wondered what Quinn was up to, if he was alive, if she would ever see him again. A board creaked outside. She looked in the direction of the sound.

  She saw Rafael’s guard quickly walking away. He had been watching her the whole day, just as she had suspected. Resigned to wait for whatever happened next, Siren turned and walked out toward The Corral. Maybe she would have time to check on Emile before things got interesting.

  Bess stood among the dining tables as the children spread out, putting up their signs. She had them go in pairs, an older one with a younger one. Elizabeth came and stood beside her.

  “The little ones did a nice job, Bess,” she said.

  Bess smiled and nodded.

  “Think it’s going to rain?” she said.

  They both looked up. The sun had faded as the few high clouds of that morning had joined and lowered and found friends. There was now a grayness about the town. A pair of girls walked up to Bess. They were sisters.

  “All done?” Bess asked.

  “Do you hear anything?” one of the older kids said to Bess.

  “My hearing isn’t what it used to be,” Bess said. “But I see something.”

  She pointed down Main Street, beyond the town. It was so far away that no individuals could be distinguished. Only a large cloud of dust getting closer.

  “What is that?” one of the kids said.

  “They’re coming,” Bess said. “Our new ‘friends’.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  SMOKE drifted over the red face of “The Butcher” Kutcher. He rode in front of his merry band of Raiders, like a leader should. He held his cigar to one corner of his mouth. His brown leather jacket flapped in the wind.

  The bike looked brand new, the finest among his crew. Kutcher and his men were likely hungry for food, drink, and women. No doubt the leader had been told he could find plenty of all three in the town just a few miles ahead to the west. Whitegate.

  Quinn lowered the binoculars and handed them to Greer.

  “About fifty of them, looks like,” he said.

  To the south of town, they lay in between bushes looking toward Whitegate. After a long night of thinking and planning, and a day of waiting, they were both fatigued and sore. Quinn had been awake almost the entire time, trying to assemble and position Grayskins around the town. He had three dozen close at hand, a platoon. Though Greer was completely unaware of this, they were gathered near the Extension Office less than a mile behind them.

  Quinn could not control more than a platoon of Grayskins at a time, but he could switch from group to group, keeping them in position, as they generally moved slowly on their own, unless they saw something they wanted. Many more were nearby, some hiding in the junkyard, a large group near the defunct new school building, some near the eastern entrance to the town.

  Greer didn’t know about Quinn’s ability to manipulate Grayskins, and he wasn’t about to reveal that fact now. They had seen the cloud of dust and heard the engines of the Raiders’ motorcycles.

  “Looks like company,” Greer said.

  Quinn Pushed the Grayskins on the east side slowly away. Making a stand there would not accomplish anything, and likely just waste most of the Grayskins while taking out only a few Raiders. It certainly wouldn’t deal with Rafael. A massive attack would be needed, all at once, with Rafael and his men surrounded.

  “This is Rafael’s big play,” Greer said, looking through the binoculars. “But here’s the problem: they aren’t carrying any supplies. People are not going to be happy about that.”

  The Grayskins nearest Quinn and Greer were getting restless, attracted by the noise of the engines. They grunted and growled and shuffled enough to be heard.

  “What’s that noise?” Greer said.

  Quinn said nothing and tried to Push them calm. They would have to wait, but they were going to have plenty of action soon.

  Kutcher’s face displayed a big smile as he entered the town, several dozen Raiders behind him. They gunned their engines as loud as they could as they entered the peaceful white enclave of buildings.

  Kutcher laughed as he passed the empty church. On the roof of the council building, a guard pumped his fist. Slowing, the gang skidded into the dining area, a couple of the bikes knocking down tables. Then they sat gunning their engines and looking over the scene. It was time for a party, Raider-style.

  “Let’s go,” Quinn said to Greer as they stood. “Time to see what we’re made of.”

  They hurried across the short distance to the junkyard, carefully watching for trouble.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “WELCOME!” Rafael said, walking up to Kutcher and slapping into a big showy handshake.

  Kutcher walked slowly forward, almost ignoring Rafael, checking the gathering throng of people. His men continued arriving and dismounting their machines.

  The dust had followed them in from the road outside Whitegate, and settled slowly over the herd of motorcycles. A smaller Raider walked up to a woman and grinned, waving his fingers at her as dust fell from his red leather jacket and the light half-helmet he held in his other hand. The woman cringed and stepped back.

  All of the Raiders wore leather from head to toe. Some had helmets, others goggles, some just sunglasses. They were all men and most of them had full beards. Some had shotguns strapped to their backs or tied to their bikes. Many of them had pistols in their jackets or tucked into their belts, or in holsters. But none had any food or other supplies. And there was no truck coming behind them. Just bikes, and dirty, hungry men.

  Siren had been talking to Emile in the kitchen, and had come out on the porch when the Raiders rolled in. She watched as Bess walked over to Rafael, Elizabeth trying to grab her arm and hold her back, but missing, and just watching as a worried look came over her face.

  “Where are the supplies, Rafael?” Bess said.

  Rafael was continuing to shake hands with the other bikers as they approached. Kutcher smiled as he removed the cigar from his mouth and flicked the ashes on the ground.

  “Well?” Bess said.

  Rafael turned, smile souring into a scowl.

  “You promised they would bring supplies,” Bess said. “Where are they?”

  Kutcher continued to smile, cocking his head to one side, interested in this fiery woman. The rest of the raiders glared at her smugly.

  “These brave men defend you and all you can do is complain?” Rafael said.

  He stormed toward Bess, wound up and slapped her with the back of his hand. Bess stumbled back, but stayed on her feet. Angered by this show of rebellion, Rafael threw a punch at her face. She went down.

  “You should be grateful!” he said, kicking her on the ground. “Not bitch about supplies!”

  The crowd tensed. Siren could see men clenching their fists, but no one moved. She thought Rafael was making a display for the Raiders more than anything else. To show how powerful he was. Or how ruthless.

  Siren looked over the gathered townspeople. It was almost dark and a breeze was pic
king up, blowing dust around and ruffling the streamers the children had made. Several of the people she had spoken with were looking right at her.

  The council members, except Anne, looked as if they were ready to lead an army into battle. Bess, getting up, just stood looking at Siren. As did Emile, leaning against a post to her left. It was as if they expected her to give them a sign.

  Siren could Sense more feelings of excitement and fear in the people. They felt something was wrong, that they wanted to do something about it. Siren knew her Compulsion was not at full power, but it was getting there fast. Her eyes told her what Sense could not.

  We can do this, she thought.

  Rafael motioned to Emile, but the food was already being brought out. He invited the Raiders to come to the tables and eat. Siren could smell how delicious the stew was. Emile had somehow given it the flavor of beef even though there was no meat. But she also knew it was the last of their food. Spring planting had just begun, and nothing was left from the winter stores. If the Raiders had their fill, perhaps some of the people would even go hungry that night.

  Kutcher and his men went to the tables, grabbing bowls of stew and pouring the stew into their mouths, dripping it over their beards and clothes. They drank their wine the same way. The townspeople sat and ate as more food emerged from The Corral while they watched the Raiders mingling.

  The small Raider in red finally caught the woman he was eyeing and grabbed her. She tried to get away. The other Raiders began to walk around eyeing women, picking out which ones they wanted.

  Siren looked with horror at what she knew was about to happen. She had almost experienced it herself recently. Then, before she even saw him, she felt a big arm around her, squeezing her body and lifting her from the porch of The Corral down to the street.

  The man was huge, six-foot-five and over three hundred pounds. He reeked of rancid old sweat and beef. He did not have a jacket on, just a leather vest over his shirtless, hairy body.

  “You’ll have your hands full with her,” Rafael said as he swallowed a mouthful of stew. “She’s a firecracker.”