by Justin Sloan
Valerie growled, wishing it could be simpler than this. “Why can’t you all just be bat-shit evil or finger-licking good?”
“Finger…?” The woman’s tears stopped long enough for her to give Valerie a confused look.
“Never mind.” Valerie considered, then, with a deep sigh, she stood and helped the guard up. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m more powerful than all your little friends back there put together. I’m likely going to tear your gods new assholes, because they sound like jerks. You’re going to march back over to those trees with me and tell me who is being forced versus those who are in need of new assholes. Got it?”
The woman looked more confused than ever, but nodded after a moment.
“Let’s get to it, then.”
Just as Valerie had said, they walked over and, to her relief, the woman complied. They got closer this time, so she could see.
“There are lookouts there, there, and there,” she said, pointing to several spots with trees or on hills. “I was supposed to spot anyone coming from your direction, so…yes, my mistake.”
“Focus.”
She nodded, then motioned to the fire closest to the airship. “Those are the ones you would say have no assholes.”
Valerie considered correcting her, but found that silence was funnier here. “Wonderful. And the others?”
“They put the ones like me on the outer circle, so if there are attacks, we get hit first.”
“Of course they did.” Valerie considered, looking between the ships. “It’s the same with all three?”
“It is.”
“Okay, here’s what you need to do if you want to live, and if you want anyone else who isn’t evil to live.” Valerie looked the woman in the eye. “Is that what you want?”
The woman nodded.
“Then we’re of the same mind. Wonderful.” Valerie tried a smile, hoping it would alleviate the woman’s fear, but it seemed to just creep her out. “When I say go, I’m going to attack the inner circles. You tell your people not to fight, to retreat into the trees, and they won’t be harmed. I’ve come here to put a stop to this sort of behavior—slavery, banditry, murdering innocents. Before I do this, can you confirm that is what I will be doing here?”
“It is,” the woman replied, and Valerie felt an aura of warmth come from her. Truth.
“Then here it is: justice is calling. I’m going to answer the phone, are you?”
Again, confusion from the lady.
“Ugh. Just follow the plan.” Valerie turned, drew her sword, and unslung her rifle. “Go!”
With a ferocious shout and a push of intense fear, Valerie burst from the trees. The effect was immediate panic. One of the men she was running toward stumbled backward into the fire, causing even more panic.
A moment later, the woman screamed something in Norwegian and half the closest group started running with her. Others picked up guns, some shooting at Valerie, some at those who were retreating.
Good thing for Valerie, because that made her feel much better about killing them.
She charged forward at vampire speed, spraying a handful of them with bullets before getting close enough to slash one in half. She spun on another and decapitated him. A woman charged her with a burning log, but Valerie swatted the log aside with her sword, lifted the rifle to the woman’s head, and pulled the trigger.
More were coming, but the majority had fled.
Valerie charged, spraying more bullets and watching her enemies drop, then turned as a man landed in front of her, having just leaped over the side of one of the airships. He didn’t seem to be in pain, which surprised her, and when he struck her, the blow actually hurt.
She took a step back, opened and closed her jaw, and then sniffed. Not a Were or vampire, but there was something there… An herbal scent. Bitter.
“What the hell are you?” she asked.
He grinned, lumbering forward. “Motherfucking Death.”
“Well, Death, let me send you home.” She darted around him, bringing up her blade as she did so that it slashed his stomach open. “To Hell.”
A glance down showed him his guts slithering out, but instead of displaying pain or fear, he simply put a hand over them to keep them in place as he turned on her.
“You’ve gotta be screwing with me,” she said as he moved for another attack. He might be freakishly strong, and he apparently didn’t feel pain, but he wasn’t able to move at vampire speed. When Valerie struck again, she made sure the head went flying.
She was staring at the body for a moment, wondering what could have given him such strength, when she heard a noise.
One of the airships took off, then another.
She turned on that one, then noticed the last starting to lift as well.
“Dammit!” she shouted, slinging her rifle over her back as she ran to the closest one. She couldn’t let them get away, not after what she had just done to them. Not after what they had just seen her do.
Her claws dug into wood as she grabbed the side of the ship. The gangplank disappeared above her, but the ship had cannon windows. She sheathed her sword, then used her other hand to claw her way over and thrust herself through the window.
A man fired his cannon, but she rolled aside and kicked it so that the shot hit the next man over. Unfortunately that man had a light, as he had been apparently preparing to light another cannon, and now the slowmatch he had been holding was dangerously close to the extra ammunition and other weapons.
Valerie debated her next move, eyes shifting between the growing fire and the remaining man.
“You’re in trouble,” she said, then winked and dove back out the window.
KA-BOOM!
The explosion sounded mere seconds after Valerie had hit the ground outside with a roll, and she immediately darted after the other ship. It was higher, but they had left behind two fighters to keep her away.
Both of them had shaved heads and a wild look in their eyes, and were accompanied by the same herb scent as the super-strong one.
Instead of bothering with them, she slid in to hammer-fist one in the crotch. When he didn’t bend over from even that, she knew they were on some sort of drug; there was no question about it.
She recovered, then ran forward and scrambled up one of them, striking and clawing. He grabbed her in a bear-hug and she was amazed anew by his strength. She knew she was stronger, but didn’t have time for an arm-wrestling match or a pissing contest, so she simply sank her teeth into him and drank his blood.
Instantly, he wobbled.
His momentary weakness was to her advantage. She broke his grip and pulled herself up, feet-to-chest, then held onto the back of his head and pushed, leaping into the air toward the departing ship.
When her claws sunk into this one, she felt something odd take over. The herbal scent was back, like white licorice—if there was such a thing—and suddenly she felt a brief surge of strength go through her body.
The drug, or whatever it was she felt, must’ve been giving those guys their strength. Damn, it wasn’t bad, either.
She clawed her way up the side of the ship in half the time, then leaped over the side onto the deck just as her healing ability fought off the last of the drug.
Three men and two women turned on her, surprise evident on their faces. One stuffed a handful of strange leaves into his mouth while two others grasped metal bars and a third grabbed a crossbow.
Valerie deflected the first metal bar, then moved her head an inch to the left to let the crossbow’s bolt fly past.
“You can all walk away from this,” she offered, twirling her sword just for the show of it. “Just tell me you’re nice people who only do nice things, and we’re all good here.”
The second metal bar guy said, “Suck on this,” and tried to jam the metal bar into her throat.
“Be original, at least,” she replied, slapping it aside and slamming her sword into his mouth, keeping the pressure on until it came out the other s
ide. She pushed fear, and two of them ran, leaping over the side of the airship and likely to their deaths below, judging by how high the ship was now. They had just reached the top of the trees, and the glow of the flames below was long gone.
That only left two—the first to strike, and the man who had eaten the leaves. The one with the metal bar shouted something, and then they rushed together.
Like the men below, she could tell the one with the leaves would have incredible strength. Not that it helped him much when she stepped back and kicked the other man’s knee out. He spun in response, and his bar caught the strong one across the face.
She sighed, sheathed her sword, unslung her rifle, and put two bullets into each of their heads. It was simply cleaner that way, though she did regret wasting the bullets.
When she turned to the control room, she found the door locked.
“Listen, I’m going to break down the door. Either open it and I go easy on you, or—”
A string of shots went off, shattering glass and door alike; it would’ve torn into her if she hadn’t been so fast to react. As it was, a bullet skimmed her neck, leaving a line of blood. The cut would heal faster than she could stand up, but it still pissed her off.
In one beat of a heart she was in the room, tearing through two attackers, a man and woman, one dressed in black, one in white, which she thought would have been cute if not for the blood splattering across the outfits. Their own blood, no less.
The captain turned on her with a dagger, but she blocked the strike and tossed him aside. He landed on the wheel, causing the ship to turn, and then he attacked her again—except this time he dove to the right instead of striking, which actually surprised her. She turned, eyes narrowed in annoyance, and saw him pulling out a shotgun.
“No, thanks,” she said. Quicker than he could react, she backhanded him so hard it spun him around and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
When she knelt to check his pulse, she smiled. “Good. When you wake, you can show me where this base of yours is.”
She stood, then paused at a faint sound only her ears could pick up. Movement.
Glancing at her feet, she saw that the first man had an eye open and a hand in one of the drawers next to his control panel.
Expecting a weapon, she rolled her eyes, then stopped. Oh, damn! she thought as he revealed a grenade with the pin removed. She didn’t need to ask what else was in those drawers to figure out there were likely more explosives. She needed to get the hell out of there.
She darted out of the control room and passed two more female bandits who had just appeared at the top of the stairs, ready for a fight.
“Gotta run,” Valerie said, and darted past them to the edge of the ship. She looked for the nearest tree, and leaped.
KA-BOOM!
The rear of the ship behind her exploded as she slammed into the tree’s branches. As she tumbled toward the ground, branch after branch hit her. She grabbed at each to stop her fall, and finally landed on the ground with a hard thud.
Flames lit the trees as bits of the ship fell on the surrounding area, and the balloon, now aflame as well, floated away without a ship to carry.
Valerie stood with a groan, turning to see the bodies of the two women not far off. Where the hell was she? She glanced around, trying to spot the fires where she had attacked the ships, but saw none.
After a crack of her neck and a quick breath to ignore the pain of her body putting itself back together, she ran to the nearest tree, jumped to the first branch, and quickly climbed its trunk.
Only, once at the top, she still had no idea where she was.
The ship had gotten turned around in the fight, and while it had been quick, she had no idea how far it had travelled.
This wasn’t good.
She was lost.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Badlands
Diego was happy to be outside the city, in that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and ensure New York was safe before the baby came. He hated leaving Sandra to deal with the pregnancy by herself, but he couldn’t expect the normal humans to go out and fight when Weres like him—who could heal and fight with enhanced abilities—sat at home with their wives.
He left with Garcia the first chance they got, after a quick stop to ensure Felix was doing as well as could be expected.
One of the vampires had earned himself the title of “Doctor” by figuring out how best to use the medical supplies recovered from the Bazaar—and now purchased from the enhanced trade—and he had started teaching others.
Their visit was brief, as the doctor insisted Felix not be woken, but as soon as they walked in to check on him, his eyes had fluttered open.
“You’re going back out?” he asked.
“You bet your ass we are,” Garcia replied. “Gonna get us some scalps for what they did to you.”
“Dammit, I wish I could go. You sure this hole ain’t healed yet, Doc?”
The doctor shook his head, glaring at Diego and Garcia.
“Yeah, yeah,” Diego mumbled, then turned back to Felix. “Heal up soon, big man, or the war will be over.”
“Gentlemen, he had a fucking hole blown through him.” The doctor motioned to the door.
“Get some rest,” Garcia commanded, patting Felix on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll bring one of ‘em back for you to throw darts at or something.”
Felix laughed, then groaned in pain, clutching the bandages over his wound. “I’d like that. Get me darts with little grenades on the tips. I miss the sound of explosions.”
Diego had chuckled at that and said it was a deal, and then they were out and on their way.
Since Garcia had to take a whiz, they put the Pod down near a dead tree and the boys took turns trying to bring it back to life by watering the surrounding soil.
“I’ll need another minute, gents,” Garcia said, looking around for privacy but finding none. “Someone grab me something to wipe with.”
“Ah, come on,” Diego chided him, but ran back to the Pod to see what he could find.
It was a hotter day than usual, with flies buzzing around and heat waves on the horizon. The day had been harder still, knowing that Felix was back there wishing he could be with them, when really he should get a medal and be able to just relax for a year for going through what he had.
What was it with some people that made them feel like they had to be part of the action? Diego certainly understood the feeling—the need—even if he didn’t understand the why.
Their first stop was one Clara had told them about, on the outskirts of what had once been New York City, not just Manhattan, which was what they called New York now. According to her, the leader of the enclave was a woman who went by the name of Lady Woo, and she had a network of her relatives running the place. They ruled it like a militarized city-state, everyone forced to serve, but they were good at staying off the radar. Lady Woo was, according to Clara, fairly level-headed. That was why they had decided to try a diplomatic approach first.
Only problem was who to send as a diplomat. Sandra had volunteered, despite being pregnant. Diego was glad he didn’t have to try to oppose that, because everyone else did. It just wasn’t a safe enough world to have that make sense in any way.
Everyone agreed it would have to be a warrior, someone who had proven themselves to be diplomatic in the past, and that only left Wallace, the cop who had put Colonel Donnoly in charge.
“You don’t want me out there,” Wallace had argued, but Sandra and Garcia had both gotten behind the idea of sending him, so soon the others had gotten onboard as well.
“Who better?” Donnoly countered. “Me? I’d screw it all up with the wrong temptation. Garcia would likely snap their heads off with a dirty look, and Diego, well, he’s too short to be taken seriously.”
“Fuck you,” Diego shot back with a smile.
Wallace had eventually agreed, and now walked at the front of the group in civilian clothes instead of the cross b
etween soldiers’ and policemen’s uniforms he and the others had taken to wearing recently.
At least they had taken the Pod. Walking in this heat would’ve been unbearable.
“Almost done over there?” Diego called to Garcia, who was still squatting on the other side of the tree.
“Yeah, yeah,” Garcia yelled back. “In a minute.”
Diego turned back to the Pod. Clara sat patiently waiting for them, arms folded in her lap, her mother at her side. “You don’t look much like pirates.”
Platea glared. “That’s because we’re not.”
“But you were.”
“We were,” Clara interjected. “Or, more like I was. Mom was just along for the ride, in a sense.”
“So if it gets crazy out there?”
“Oh, we could take care of ourselves way before the whole pirate thing,” Platea replied. “But then Clara here joined one of the worst pirate crews there was, and by ‘worst’ I mean best, but not high on the moral side of things.”
Clara shifted uncomfortably, face red. “It wasn’t one of my most clear-headed decisions.”
“Made in haste just to spite me, I’d say.”
Diego pursed his lips, wondering what he had walked into. These two probably shouldn’t have been here, at least in his opinion, but they knew about this indie network, so they would likely serve as better go-betweens than Wallace. Having both options was a plus.
“That’s going to be nice gift for the next Pod that stops by that tree,” Garcia said, waving his hand in front of his nose as he approached.
“Tell me you at least covered it,” Diego demanded with a scowl.
“I kicked sand on it, sure.”
Diego just hung his head and sighed, then got back into the Pod. “Wake me up when we get there,” He tried to ignore the look Garcia and Platea shared. They must’ve had a fun time chatting, because they’d been dressed this morning in the same clothes they had worn the day before, and had arrived together.
They aren’t even trying to hide it, Diego thought with a smile.
When he opened his eyes Clara was staring at him, and he quickly looked away. That wasn’t good.
