Sadly, she did.
She had her own fears, though. The one odor she had never become accustomed to was the sharp tainted smell of stomach acid and half-digested shit that came from bodies with severe abdominal wounds. In her nightmares, she'd pictured her death coming from such a wound. She'd watched as her own coiling guts spilled out faster than she could stuff them back inside. They'd swell and swell and ooze pints of turbid fluids. She'd then poke at the slimy pink and gray worm-like tubes, only to watch them spring back and continue growing until finally bursting open in a cloying miasma of stink. That savage odor affected her more than anything else could.
She smelled that same stench now.
One of the men who had accompanied her did not have her level of intestinal fortitude. He half-ran and half-stumbled from the room, doubling over as he went. Long trailing streamers of vomit spilled out from between his fingers.
She tried to breathe only through her mouth as she looked about the room. She saw that they had set up a table for her to operate on and had laid out her instruments along with several bottles of alcohol, the same cheap stuff she'd consumed earlier. These men were not worthy of the higher quality medical supplies inside the complex, a fact she found troubling, but not out of the norm given the circumstances.
She went to the instrument table and strapped on a plaid kitchen apron that was more suited to baking than to butchery, but it would keep the blood she expected to encounter from staining her own clothes. She again eyed the liquor bottles and licked her lips.
She shook her head, thinking: Can't.
A shouted cry came from behind her. Two men rushed in carrying a body between them on a stretcher. They dumped the body, what was left of it, onto the floor next to a haphazard row of the other dead. Each man who still had an attached right arm also had a white cloth ribbon wrapped around it.
She realized that the white team must have suffered a serious loss. They must have been overrun or made some stupid mistake, which was not unusual given that they were the newest recruits. She hated most of them. They were far too unpredictable and undisciplined for her liking.
She glanced back at the table lined with instruments, and at the bottles of alcohol. She could have one drink to calm her nerves, couldn't she? She needed it. Badly. After that, she could get to work on those few men who had survived. She'd save some if she could, do her best at least. But it was shaping up to be a long day, a very long day. Most would probably bleed out before she could get to them.
“Who shall I save first, God?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “Who shall I let live and who shall I let die?”
She took one of the bottles from the nearby table and removed the wine cork that sealed the brown liquid inside. She sniffed the contents. For as sick as she was now, it smelled oddly good, better than the room. She glanced at the open bottle. All she had wanted to do twenty minutes ago was to sleep. Now she wanted to climb inside the bottle and disappear into a numb stupor for a few hours. Sadly, that would have to wait until later, until she was done doing what she could to save lives.
She raised the bottle to her lips, anticipating the warmth that would soon be trickling down her throat, the taste, the temporary numbness it would bring her.
Her hand trembled and shook. She could hear the liquid sloshing inside, slapping against the insides of the bottle and driving little droplets up and out the top. Some splashed on her face. The fumes filled her nose.
“Too bad,” she whispered. “Not now. Not yet. Later.”
Another shouted cry demanded her attention. She lowered the bottle and turned toward the sound.
Sebastian Cyrus strolled into the room with his bodyguards in tow. Sunlight streamed through the open doorway and silhouetted him in a hazy aura. He had his hands resting on his hips, and his shoulders squared. She could not yet see his face through the blur, but she knew he wasn't smiling.
Great, just great.
-14-
THE DRAWING OF THE THREE
JESSE LED EVE and Kate around a series of abandoned and weathered buildings to the street that would take them to the front gate of Rose's compound. The way there was sterile and lifeless. What had once been lush corporate landscaping was now a series of stunted brown shrubs, dead trees, and chunks of multicolored rock. The starkness reminded him of the time he had spent in Iraq. Everything looked about the same, too.
Much like hell.
As he stepped through the weeds that had sprung up over the years of neglect, a sudden chill crawled up his backbone. He glanced back to where he had expected Eve and Kate to be. Eve was two steps behind, but Kate was not. She was nowhere to be seen.
“What?” Eve asked as he looked at her.
“Where's Kate?”
Eve spun in a circle, searching. “She was just here. Now. I. Don't. Know.” There was a new worry in her voice.
Seconds later, Kate emerged from the entrance of a dry cleaner storefront that was next to a nail salon. An orange spray-painted message on the plywood sheets covering the missing windows read OPEN AGAIN SOON. Someone else had painted in black under the orange lettering with a symbol Jesse recognized. It was a FEMA tag from many years ago and told of the fifteen dead bodies that had been found inside.
Kate hopped off the concrete curb in front of the building and into the street. She kicked a rock and watched it spin away.
“You need to stay close to us,” Jesse said, irritated. “And, for Christ sakes, stay out of those damn buildings.”
She ignored him and kicked another rock. He knew if she bolted now, there wasn't much he could do about it. And maybe she should, he thought. Eve might not like it, but he was sure Kate could take care of herself for a while. He could come find her on his way back to the city. That was if she wanted to be found, which terrified him even more.
He kept scanning for guards as they approached the front gate, constantly looking for any movement above the walls. So far, he had not spotted anything, but that did not mean they had not seen him. They could be alerting everyone inside now. Maybe gathering to attack him and take everything he had.
With growing trepidation, he reached the hulking corrugated steel gate and stopped in front of it. The ten-foot high gate sat on roller wheels. It had barbed wire and rusted metal spikes welded along the top. Scaling it would be impossible, both from the outside and from the inside.
All was quiet so far, and no one had challenged them yet. Jesse took that as a sign he could talk his way in. He'd only been inside twice before, and he'd learned to trust Rose about as much as he trusted a crippled raptor.
Here goes, he thought, and knocked his baseball bat against the heavy-gauge steel of the gate.
Eve asked, “You sure people are still here? After that truck leaving—”
“Shhh.” Jesse again banged the bat against the gate, this time louder. Something inside made a noise, maybe a cough, but he couldn't tell for sure.
About a minute later, a small slit opened in one of the depressions in the corrugated steel, and a set of bulging eyeballs peered through the gap.
“Go away!” the voice croaked.
Jesse leaned closer to the gate. The slit abruptly snapped shut.
“Well, that was nice,” Eve said. “I thought you told me they knew you.”
Jesse banged the bat against the gate again, and said loudly, “We're here to trade with Rose. We've come unarmed.”
The slit opened again, and the twin eyeballs stared out suspiciously, blinked twice, then the tiny window snapped shut again.
“I've got toilet paper,” Jesse said. “Other things. Good stuff.”
Nothing. Silence.
“Why won't they let us in?” Eve asked.
“They will. Just wait.”
He heard a rattling chain and pulled her away from the gate. A few seconds later, a new clinking sound began, and the gate creaked open, squealing in protest. It came to a stop after opening less than a foot.
Inching the bat off his shoulder, he positioned h
imself to meet anyone stepping through the gap.
A skinny man in a dirty white tank top squeezed through sideways. Dark, heavy bags sagged under the guy's eyes, and he had the pallid, pockmarked complexion of a meth-head. It was impossible to tell just how old he really was.
The man scratched at a scab on his forearm. “Yeah. Yeah, I's remember you.”
Jesse found the man repulsive, but knew him. “Wilson? That you?”
“A fine memory you have, sai. And what else do we have here?” He looked Jesse over carefully, making grunting noises, and then pushed him aside. When his gaze landed on Eve and Kate, he gasped. He started licking his lips, and scratching at his crotch.
The hairs on the nape of Jesse's neck prickled. He kept the baseball bat slightly off his shoulder and stayed tense, suddenly wondering if bringing Eve and Kate along had been a stupid mistake. Maybe he should have gone in alone to negotiate first.
But it was too late now.
“So how's Rose?”
“Milady is fine. She's likely to remember you too, sai.” He gave Jesse another look up and down. “So, what's you have? These two? They'll fetch a nice sum, they will.”
“Are you going to let us in?”
The man smacked his lips and returned to the gate. He waited there for a moment, considering. Then he nodded to himself and pushed the gate open another two feet.
“After you, sai. And lady-sais,” he said, bowing deeply.
Jesse again wondered what he'd gotten himself into. This was the last chance he had to chuck it all and run. Just turn away and take off. Simple. Easy. Kate would probably even follow, and Eve would take too long to realize what had happened. She'd be trapped and would have to remain with these people. Maybe she would find Cory. Maybe not.
It would all be so easy to do if he could just—
Shaking his head, he lowered the bat against his shoulder. He sucked in a breath and took a tentative step forward then checked to see if Eve and Kate were following. They were, so he led them inside.
The gate crashed shut behind them, rattling along its length as it settled into place.
“What brings you south, sai?” Wilson asked as he secured the gate with a length of chain and fist-sized padlock.
“I need to speak with Rose,” Jesse said.
Wilson shut one eye and ticked. He spit out a few unformed words before saying, “She's indisposed. Want me…Want me… Want me to tell her you's here?”
“Please.”
“As you wish, sai.”
Jesse didn't know what all the “sai” crap was all about, but it annoyed him now even more so than the last time he'd been here.
Wilson led them to the largest building in the complex. On the way there, they passed two harsh-looking men who were working on the engine of a Dodge Ram pickup truck. One was skinny and looked severely malnourished. The other's left arm ended in a stump above his elbow. Both were covered in grease and road dirt. When they looked up, the skinny one bumped the armless man, causing him to drop his wrench, which fell into the engine compartment and bounced around until landing on the concrete slab under the truck with a ping.
Both men stared slack-jawed at Eve and Kate.
Jesse frowned. They were just two more assholes he had to watch out for. He remembered them both from the last time he'd been here. Scott and Javier were their names. He did not trust either of them. Fortunately, though, it seemed that so far, other than Wilson and the two by the truck, the place was deserted. No guards, no guns. Had the others died off over the winter? Were they attacked? Could they have deserted? He wasn't sure, but something didn't sit right in his gut about the entire situation. His lizard brain was tingling, too. Given how many men had left in the flatbed truck, there should have been another three or four left behind. Maybe they were hiding somewhere.
But where?
“Where's a—?” Jesse snapped his fingers, as if he was trying to remember a name. “You, know—?”
Wilson just stared back with his bulging eyeballs, saying nothing, so Jesse let the matter drop. Eve stepped passed him and thrust out her chest.
“Who else is here?” she asked.
Wilson started giggling uncontrollably. He grabbed his crotch and started rubbing it harder and harder. Scott and Javier both laughed. Scott then raised the baseball cap on his head and brushed hair out of his eyes with blackened fingers. Javier's gaze flicked over the women, and he smacked his lips like a dog appraising a meaty bone.
Jesse moved to block their view of Eve and Kate. He then pushed them forward and indicated to Wilson to keep going. A giggling Wilson led them all around the garage area and to the center of the compound. There, they headed toward the single tree in the courtyard offering any shade. A bench sat to one side of the tree and faced a neatly arranged flower garden full of roses. Jesse came to a stumbling stop next to the rose bushes.
“You okay?” Eve asked.
He reached out and touched the green leaves of the nearest plant. It had thorns, but he ignored them. How had they grown so fast? He didn't remember them from the last time he was here, but that was before the winter. Above the green leaves and thorns on one of the bushes was a flawless white rose. His wife Cheryl had planted roses like that, except hers had been red and pink. She'd planted them in the front yard of their Texas home. He recalled the strong scent they gave off. How much he had hated it. Too girly, too feminine. He had wanted to cut them all down and replace them with a nice, thick lawn. Tall fescue—probably—maybe some Kentucky bluegrass. But now, after seeing the single white rose, he knew he'd give anything to smell those roses back at his Texas home again.
“Jesse?” someone asked, the voice distant.
“Wait here,” another voice said.
“Jesse. Come on. We need you. Focus.”
As if coming back from far away, he returned. Blinking, he said, “It's okay.”
“What's okay?” Eve asked.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“You're one weird guy. You know that?”
He grinned. “I've got a lot more crazy in my bucket of shit,” he said as he started looking for Kate. She was sitting on the bench like a schoolgirl patiently waiting outside the principal's office.
“You can't just space out like that,” Eve said. “I'm not sure what to say. These guys scare me.”
He nodded. Good. She was scared. That might just keep her from saying anything stupid.
A loud bang came from the garage area. It sounded like a gunshot. Eve grabbed him by the arm and slipped next to him. He tensed when the loud banging noise repeated.
Then it sounded again.
But it wasn't gunshots. He relaxed after understanding what he'd heard. It was the sound of a hammer blow. Metal banging against metal. Then the whole idea of what they were probably doing struck him as even crazier. They had been hovered over the engine compartment earlier. Not much use for a hammer there.
Wilson, who had been gone for less than a minute, emerged from the tan building. He looked at Eve and started giggling again. “You may see her now, sai and lady-sais.”
Jesse motioned Kate to come nearer and traded a wary glance with Eve. That glance did not go unnoticed by Wilson. He backed up a step and put his hand against his shirt slightly above the waistband of his filthy trousers. His bottom lip jutted outward.
Gun, Jesse thought. The guy had a gun. Based on the way he'd instinctively gone for it, it was probably loaded, too.
“You can leave those here,” Wilson said, indicating Jesse's bat and Eve's spear. “And, for Rose's safety, I must search you all.” Saying that brought on even more giggles from the man.
Jesse held out the baseball bat and pointed at Eve's spear. “We aren't carrying anything other than these.”
“Can't take any chances, sai. I could always shoots you and take what you have. Wouldn't bother me half a wit, but Rose, see, she might gets upset. Gets upset with me. Then she gives me no juju. No spurt-spurt. So, what's it gonna be?”
Jes
se thought about it briefly. Things were getting worse and worse. Now he had nothing to fight back with except his wits. That scared him to the bone. But he also realized he had little choice. He'd come this far, so he might as well see it through.
He rested the bat against the side of the building and shrugged off his nylon pack. He indicated for Eve and Kate to do the same.
Wilson rummaged through Eve and Jesse's packs, digging deep, but found nothing worthy of confiscating. Although, he did smile at the items in Eve's pack more than those in Jesse's. When he started digging in Kate's purple knapsack, he suddenly stopped and glanced up. He extracted the knife Jesse had given her and held it up, admiring it. He chuckled to himself.
“What's you doing with a knife like this, I wonder? A little lady-sai with a knife? Oh no, no. Can't be… Can't—” He ticked and his head snapped against his neck twice. “—be.”
Kate reached for the hunting knife, but Wilson withdrew it out of her reach. “Ah. Ah. Ah. Sorry. This stays here.” He set the knife down next to the other weapons. “Good. Good. I need to check your, ahem, persons now, too,” he said. “If you please, sais?” He made an arm raising gesture and giggled.
“Is this necessary?” Jesse asked.
“Indeed so. One cannot be too careful.”
Wilson patted down Jesse and then moved to Eve. She raised her arms. He wet his lips and rubbed his hands together before pawing at her, and then he fondled her more than searched. She cringed at his touch but endured.
That little piece of shit.
Jesse eyed the baseball bat leaning against the wall. Two steps were all he would need to reach it, and one more to crack the guy with it. Wipe away that giggling smile.
Wilson continued to take his time with Eve, running his hands up and down her body, across her breasts and over her hips. She let him do this with only a few tiny frowns crossing her face. Sighing, the vile little letch moved away from her.
Jesse wanted to bash him but was even more surprised by the way Eve had reacted. While he was thankful that she hadn't done anything stupid, he was also a little shocked she would let herself be touched like that without decking the guy.
Red Asphalt: Raptor Apocalypse Book 2 Page 9
