“That kid must have been delicious,” Shane mused. “I haven’t seen a single mutant.”
“We’re not there yet,” Aaron said. “We’ve got to get back to the river.”
“We have people meeting us downriver just south of town,” Anna added. “They can take us the rest of the way. Then my father can help us.”
Shane shook his head but followed as Jerry led the group from the highway back towards the Animas. They moved quicker as wails began to grow in the distance. There was obviously not enough conscript to go around. He wondered if the mutants could remember. Did their minds work well enough to recall seeing more food running about their town? Mutants came in varying degrees of stupid. These were so animalistic that he doubted they could remember much of anything.
A bottling plant was the last facility at the edge of town before the river. The parking lot was massive and the open space made Jerry nervous. They had gotten lucky so far and this would be the perfect setting for it to run out. If the creatures came now, there would be nowhere to hide. He ran as lightly as possible and found what cover he could, ducking behind the delivery trucks and cars that had been left behind.
Asphalt turned to dirt and then the dirt turned to shrubs as they approached the riverbank. They had made it through town.
Shane was the first to the top of the bank. He waved the group over. Aaron ran to join him. Jerry was about to move when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned.
For the first time since they had pulled her from the boat, the princess’s eyes were soft and kind. They had lost their murderous edge. She spoke softly. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Jerry smiled. He took a deep bow with an outspread arm. “After you, m’lady.”
Anna returned the smile, curtsied and ran to the river’s edge.
The gunshot dropped her before she topped the bank.
Aaron screamed and rushed to her side. He took her into his arms and held her, but there was no response. The bullet had passed through her chest and out her back. Tears filled his eyes as her death became real.
Jerry ran to the river and looked for the shooter.
Across the river, the man in black stood and dusted the desert from his leathers. He said nothing, but gave Jerry a small wave and a smile as he slung the sniper rifle over his back.
The water was cold but Jerry rushed through the light current and up the other bank. The sand was loose and difficult to climb. He took handfuls of dirt and clawed his way to the top.
An engine roared to life and Jerry found nothing but a cloud of dust waiting for him. The jeep turned back on the road through Aztec and the Dog laid on the horn as he passed through the town.
Jerry rushed back across the river and found Aaron still holding the girl in his arms. He screamed through tears. “Who was it? Who did this?”
Jerry hung his head. “It was the prince’s man.” He looked at Shane. “The prince did this.”
Aaron sobbed. His tears turned to rage. He stared at Shane. “Do you believe me now, asshole?”
Shane shrunk back. “Well, yeah. Now it’s pretty obvious.”
FIFTEEN
Erica awoke in her clothes and slowly opened each eye bit by bit in an attempt to outfox the sun that was trying to kick in the window.
The night was a blur. There were drinks. There was laughing. There was a … bard? That couldn’t be right. But she definitely remembered someone telling stories with a lute—tales of knights and kings and damsels. Oh, there were so many damsels.
These fantastic stories of triumph over ogres and giants and intelligent beasts blended together in Erica’s head with the more unreal confessions of the women that had taken her out to the tavern.
Each had their own sordid tale of survival that had led them to the beds of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. They had done what they had to in order to survive the wasteland and they were still doing what they must to get by. There was no shame among the friends, only understanding. They weren’t proud of their place in the kingdom, but they were safe from the horrors of the outside world.
Like so many, they had found themselves alone after the world fell apart. Erica and Brae seemed to be the only exception. They had each found someone in the aftermath that was more than a companion. They had both found a love that they would cherish until the end of the world again.
Brae gushed for hours about Shane: how wonderful he was, how caring, how understanding and how strong. His band toured the small villages and communities back east playing for food and supplies. They had rocked her town of Hope’s Landing and she had fallen madly in love.
She would never leave him, she said. Even when they were forced out of Knoxville, she refused to leave his side. And he would never leave her. Even with what she had been forced to become.
From there the evening became mostly tears of regret and homesickness until the other girls ordered more drinks. They were there for her. They would always be there for her because, “Girls had to stick together.” There would be a hundred losers like “Sir Tom Thumb,” but they would always have each other.
By the end of the evening, Brae felt better and Erica couldn’t feel a thing. That changed in the morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she drank so much. She rolled forward and felt everything rush to her forehead. She groaned from the pain.
“Brae?”
There was no answer. And there was nowhere the girl could be. The apartment was a single room and a bath, and from her place on the bed she could see the bathroom was empty. That was, unless Brae was sleeping in the tub. Erica took a deep breath and rolled out of bed.
They were heavy steps, but they got her to the small en suite where she found a note on the bathroom mirror from her new “bestest ever friend.”
Jen,
I can’t thank you enough for last night. No one has ever listened to me like that. You are a true friend. To say thank you, I let you sleep in. Hannibal needed to go out so I took her for a long walk. Enjoy the silence.
Love your bestest ever friend, Brae
Erica looked at her watch. It was half past ten. She couldn’t remember the last time she got to sleep in and her head hurt so much that even remembering caused her pain. She looked back at the bed covered with a pile of blankets. They were inviting her back into their warm embrace and she smiled. She could sleep in. She wasn’t going to waste it. Jerry would most likely return today. She could tell him what she had learned and they could be on their way. The girls were nice and it was good to have girlfriends again, but she wanted to leave this bizarre place right after she got some more sleep.
She rolled into the blankets and rocked back and forth until all the openings were sealed against the cool air of the apartment. Closing her eyes, she did her best to picture nothing and it was wonderful. She wanted to enjoy the silence of the room and her own thoughts.
The pounding on the door ruined everything. She grumbled as she found her way out of the blankets again. Ten thirty was technically sleeping in, but a few hours more would have been perfect. The pounding continued. It had to be Brae. Erica opened the door.
Sir Thomas of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks looked so pissed that it actually covered up the stupid.
The man made her sick. The stories about him had been prolific the night before. She squinted against the headache. “Brae’s not here.”
“I’ll wait.” Tommy pushed her aside and stepped into the room and shut the door with a snap.
It sounded like a gunshot in Erica’s head and she placed her face in her hand.
“Late night.”
“Yeah, it was. We …”
“I wasn’t asking. I was saying you had a late night. And, from what I hear, it was all on me.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Sure you do. You and your new friends were living it up. I heard all about it. There was drinking and laughing. So much laughing. And I seemed to be the star of all the jokes. What was it the girls called me? T
wo-Minute Tommy. That was it.”
Erica didn’t say anything.
“That was a funny one,” Tommy said as he strolled around the apartment examining Brae and Shane’s few possessions. “Tiny Tommy. Another of my favorites.”
Erica looked around the apartment in search of options. There was the door and a window. That was it.
“One girl called me Tommy Salami. I’m not sure what she’s getting at there.”
Erica was in too much pain to be frightened. “She said you smelled like salami.”
“Is that so? Do you believe that?”
“It was probably more the rhyme that made her say it.”
“Hmmm, I see. She likes rhymes. Like a little kid. I guess that’s where Sweaty Palm Tom came from as well.”
“No, she said your palms were really sweaty. Like scary sweaty.”
Tommy turned and glared at her.
“She said she thought it might be a condition.”
Tommy raised his voice. “People sweat during sex. They get excited. They sweat. It’s completely normal!”
Erica shrugged. “Okay.”
“It’s not okay. You girls called me a lot of names!” He shouted them out. “Two-pump Tommy. Tommy Cries for Mommy. Half-man. Stumpy Joe.”
Erica raised a finger. “In her defense, she was calling someone else Stumpy Joe.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she said you were smaller than Stumpy Joe.”
Tommy shot her a sarcastic half smile and continued. “Sir Shrinks-a-Lot. Sir Gal or Lad. Sir Cialis. Blue Pill McGill.”
Erica shook her head. “Yeah, I didn’t really get that one.”
“Oh,” Tommy said. “My last name is McGill.”
“Ah. It makes sense now.”
“Yeah, that one was pretty clever.” Tommy smiled. “Tom Thumb. I thought was a good one, too.”
“It means your dick is the size of a thumb, Tommy.”
The smile faded and the anger returned. “It’s Sir Thomas. Not Tommy, Sir Thomas. If you’re going to stay here, you’d better get with the program, girl. You will treat me and the other knights with respect befitting our station.”
His voice hurt her head. “I’m not sure we’ll be staying.”
A different smile appeared on his face. There was no kindness in it. “Oh, so you haven’t heard the great news then?”
“What are you talking about, To … Sir Thomas?”
“You’re a widow.” The evil grin broadened and Tommy raised his voice knowing that it would hurt her head. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
His words moved slowly through the hangover fog and she didn’t really process them. “What are you talking about?”
“The call came in just a little while ago. Your man didn’t rescue the princess. The search party is dead. So not only are you a widow, you’re not a citizen. But you are here. Which means you’ve got to start earning your keep.” Tommy undid his weapon belt and set it by the door.
Erica backed away. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe, whore.” Tommy lurched at Erica.
Erica’s reflexes had not had as much to drink as she did. Her elbow shot forward and caught the man across the top of his nose.
The blow was enough to send him staggering backwards and reaching for his face. He pulled his hand down and looked at the blood on his fingers. That evil smiled returned. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Tommy rushed across the room and threw his full weight into her. This sent Erica into the wall and shook the old building. She bounced back into his arms. The knight wrestled her to the ground, climbed on top of her and pinned her arms above her head.
“What do you think? Do you think your friends were lying about me?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t care, Tommy. Please let me go.”
He ignored her pleas. “Well, why don’t we take a look and see?” Tommy spit his threat down the side of her face.
Erica winced and tried to get free, but the knight was too strong.
“It was always going to end up this way, you know? Your man was never supposed to come back. None of them were. Now there’s no tough guy here to protect you. No monster of a dog. It’s just us. Just the helpless damsel and the big bad knight.” Tommy grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and moved a hand to his pants.
Erica twisted and squirmed to get free. His grip was fierce. But as he struggled to undue his pants with a single hand, his palms began to sweat profusely. It had to be a condition. No one had that many sweat glands in their hands. In a matter of seconds his palms became slick and Erica tore her hand free.
Tommy’s attention had turned to the stubborn button on his pants. Now his head snapped up to see he had lost his hold. His face went pale and confusion grew in his eyes. He released Erica and rose to his knees.
Erica backed away on elbows and heels as the knight realized his other hand was stuck to his thigh with a knife.
Tommy tried to stand on weak legs. Blood stained his pant leg and the patch grew larger in rhythm with his heart. He looked at Erica but couldn’t say anything.
“Try and remember what he told you about the hand,” Erica said.
Tommy mustered a deep breath and pulled the knife from his leg. It was surprising to see how much blood it was holding in. It ran down his leg and began to pool at his foot. Sir Thomas Not the Longest screamed and raised the knife to strike.
Erica jumped to her feet and dove out of the way as he charged.
He was weak from a loss of blood. He was shaky from the shock of seeing his hand pinned to his thigh with a knife. He was stupid to begin with. All of this together with his momentum carried Tommy across the small apartment, through the window and down to the street below.
Erica, minding the broken glass, leaned out the window to see if he lived.
The pool of blood-stained snow around the man told her more than any chalk outline would.
A crowd gathered quickly. They looked up and saw her. They called the knights and pointed to her.
Her head still hurt like hell.
SIXTEEN
Funerals were a selfish affair. That hadn’t changed.
Friends and family gathered to grieve and arrange the burial while the person who did all the dying got little say in the matter. Sure, there was the last will and testament, but after quarreling over the specifics of the inheritance, dealing with escrow and holding an estate sale, who had time to follow such specific instructions?
Flowers were brought in. People cried. Coffee was had and life went on.
After the majority of the world died, funerals became a rarity. The survivors looked at cities filled with bodies, decided it would simply cost too much in flowers, and moved away rather than deal with the smell.
Out in the wasteland, a person stayed where they fell because chances are that whatever caused them to drop dead in the first place was probably still around and most likely still hungry. In dire situations like these, the funeral was boiled down to those remaining in the party shouting, “I’ll remember you,” over their shoulders as they ran away.
If they died somewhere safer, the ceremony was extended to a more formal, “We will never forget you,” before the party turned its back and walked away.
If they died in town, they would be buried to keep from stinking up the place.
But, generally, they weren’t a princess. Royalty still enjoyed the solemn affair, flowers and an obituary. Organs played, a choir sung and people said nice things about them before they were buried and immortalized as a statue, a portrait or a halfway decent caricature.
“I’ll remember you, Anna,” Aaron wept. She had been wrapped in a sheet of plastic and covered with desert sand to hide her from the Aztecs long enough for her body to be recovered and taken back home.
Jerry and Shane stood watch as the young man cried over her grave. “I’ll come back for you. I’ll come back and we’ll take you home. I promise. You deserve better than this. You deserved bett
er than him.” He leaned over the grave and gently kissed the dirt. Then he spit the dirt out of his mouth and wiped what couldn’t be spit out on his sleeve.
Jerry put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “She’ll be safe here until her father can come get her.”
“Probably,” Shane added. “Can we go now?”
Jerry turned. “Shane … please.”
Aaron ignored Shane’s comment. “I hope you’re right. I can’t stand the idea of those monsters finding her.”
“She’s safer than we are,” Shane said.
“You?!” Aaron turned but did not rise.
“Yeah. Us.” Shane pointed to Jerry. “Me and him. We failed to rescue your precious princess, so there’s nothing waiting when we get back. No citizenship. No feast. Just the mines.”
“They just murdered the love of my life!”
A wail carried on the air from somewhere beyond the bottling plant. It was a single voice but it wouldn’t be long before more joined in.
Shane crossed his arms. “There’re worse fates, kid.”
“How dare you. I lost her!”
“I’ve got to go back to the mines!” Shane screamed. “Do you have any idea how terrible it is down there?”
“I don’t know, I imagine it’s like the void left in my soul from the murder of the woman I loved. Dark, bleak and cold. Is it like that?”
“You don’t know anything! It’s not cold at all. It’s hot. You never stop sweating. The air is so thick with dust that you take in a breath and spit mud. The pounding of the rock echoes in your head long after it stops. There’s never a moment of silence. No peace. The guy next to you smells. And the guy next to him smells even worse. It’s like working in a giant armpit. And if you’re lucky enough to die from the exhaustion, you get rolled out of the way to rot so the king can have his precious gold. You don’t get a fancy funeral like this.”
Aaron sprang from the ground and caught Shane under the chin with his fist.
The tall man stumbled back on weak knees but saved himself from collapse and came back at the young man swinging.
Knights of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 2) Page 14
