“What are we going to do?” Red screams with little breath.
He doesn’t know. Several have already found their way around the corner of the wall and have tried to come in behind them. More cuts are open and actively bleeding across Red’s body and even he has been torn in several places. The fire of the injuries ignites his blood, but he knows it is slowing her down.
“Try to get behind me,” he orders.
They can’t do this all night. He has killed many in his life, but not an entire army by himself. Kicking at his bag, he feels the contents inside rattle but there is nothing that will help. They are on their own. A small chuckle tickles his throat as he feels her push up behind him.
Side by side they fight surrounded by the plague that haunts this world. He always knew this miserable existence would end sooner or later. He just didn’t think it would be standing out in front of a locked gate without getting the chance to finish one last job.
Such irony.
He chuckles again as two more bite and tear their way to him. Bones break, and breath chokes out as they die at his feet. A mountain of bodies begins to build in front of the fortress. Blood and shadows swirl all around them and there is no room left to fight. They can feel the hands reaching out for them. Sharp nails and diseased fingers pulling them in.
The doors of the impenetrable walls groan as they slide open and the roar of a bear rips through the night. Bright beams of light burn the eyes of the nearest infected and the charge of a thousand horses comes to life as the nearest are flattened beneath the spinning tires of an armored truck.
“Get your asses inside!” the man from up top yells. “He’s making one pass and then these doors shut for good.”
Merchant does not hesitate. Scooping up Red wand his bag, he’s through the opening as the head of an infected explodes, leaving his back warm and wet. The defenders of New Frontier cover their retreat with marked precision and in moments the truck returns, glorified by the carnage dripping from every panel and the doors are slammed shut behind them.
16
Restraint is in Order
The doors slam shut with a resounding, finality. Metal screaming as gears grind and there isn’t enough oil left in this world to ever hope they are to open again. Men circle, guns are pointed, and the engine of the vehicle from hell growls with discontent. Bits of gore drop from its armor plating. A scarlet paint of infected meat and rotting innards smear across its outer shell and splatter away as the windshield is wiped clean by wipers dotting everyone standing beside the killing machine. A heavy gun, almost longer than she is tall, turns their direction and the masked man standing behind it fingers the trigger.
Red refuses to back away. Merchant stands beside her, his presence a steadying rock. A need to kill flows through her deeper than the blood in her veins. She can see those tears and the cries of anguish that drove her here. Every man now surrounding her is Logan Barnett. His face belongs to every one of them and she’ll rip them off until she is certain she got the correct one.
A feral growl slips from her lips and a heavy weight drops on her shoulder. She turns her head. It’s Merchant and the slightest shake of his head tells her this isn’t the time. Her hands ball into fists and he can go fuck himself. She feels naked without that rifle he took from her. Ass out and blowing in the wind, she is exposed and surrounded by the enemy. It doesn’t matter. All she needs to do is get her fingers on a single one of these bastards and she’ll clean this house out of all of its rats.
More men climb down from the wall. All of them look hard and angry. Scars paint faces beneath darkened circles that tell stories of long nights and unforgiving days. Ruffled beards, balding heads, and uniforms tattered with age and use. They are hungry for something. She imagines its rest and a life away from this, but this world is fucked up and where else are they going to go?
The wails and hunger cries from outside die down and the sporadic pops of gun fire fade into memory. She can count at least twenty of them. Numbers was never her strong suit and there are definitely more than she has fingers and toes.
Fuck it. None of it matters. There is only one reason she is here, and that is Logan Barnett. Where is that asshole?
“You two don’t know just how lucky you are, do you?” the commanding voice from before asks.
Red and Merchant turn as the men surrounding them part and one individual approaches. He does not carry any weapons in his hands. Why would he? There is so much lead already pointed at them, they’d end up killing half of themselves if they all decided to fire.
“How about you enlighten us, ass…” Red starts before Merchant steps up between them.
“I’m not sure we would have made it much longer if it wasn’t for your assistance, Mr.?” Merchant asks.
The stranger stops at the edge of the guarded circle. Grey hair peppers the dark hair that sticks out from beneath his army issued hate and the uniform of fatigues are stretched around his fit frame for a man who looks more than twenty years passed his prime.
“Sergeant Halton. CO of this group of fine men. Been fighting here in New Freedom going on four years now,” Sergeant Halton says but does not come closer. Neither do his men lower their weapons. “I’ve seen many things in my time here. All kinds of nightmares and beasts charging relentlessly at these walls. My men and I have killed more than we would possibly count, but tonight is a first.”
The soldier rubs the tip of his chin with a hand and looks around at those circling before returning to Merchant and her.
“Sure was a lot of them out there. More than you expected?” Merchant says.
Red grinds her teeth and wants to spit at the man and demand to talk to Logan now. There is no need to waste any more time chit chatting like a pack of old hens. She is here for one reason only.
“Numbers hardly matter to the infected, though, I will agree that over the last several months there seems to be even more of them than before. Doesn’t matter. They could send a million and my boys and I would hold them back. Wouldn’t we?”
A cheer of the men rises into the air and several fire a round or two into the night before settling their weapons back with the barrels pointed straight at her chest. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for her rifle back.
“See the thing here is, you two,” Sergeant Halton starts again. “I know what it takes to survive out there in the wilds. I’ve spent enough of my life running and hiding. Killing and hunting. Anything to keep myself alive. Here with our fortifications, training, and probably the last weapons on this very Earth, each man standing beside me is worth a thousand infected. They outnumber us, but their minds are gone. Madness has driven them to the brink of death and they welcome it when it comes. But out there,” he waves to the walls of sharp metal and the deadly grounds beyond, “I would say the best of them is worth maybe ten. Fifteen if we aren’t caught off guard. Not you two though. That was something special.”
The soldier eyes Merchant as he takes a step closer. Not enough to be within arm’s length, but still inside the protective circle of his men. She can see his eyes moving up and down the big man’s body. She almost wants to laugh. He has no idea just how close he is to his own death.
“People will do what they have to when backed against a wall,” Merchant says as if he doesn’t notice a single thing.
He shifts that bag of his higher upon his shoulder and she knows he’s growing agitated. He does that when he’s close to pouncing and someone is close to being a corpse.
“Backed against a wall?” Halton chuckles and pats the nearest soldier on his shoulder, maybe catching the message in Merchant’s movements. “You two had nowhere to go and would have died if it wasn’t for us, but by the lord above, how many would you have killed in the process? One hundred? Two maybe? I’ve never seen such work with my own eyes. You’re ex-army, aren’t you? Maybe even special forces?”
The smile on Halton’s face is lit up like a torch and he’s animated like a child. Merchant does not answer. Still, the smile g
rows.
“Come on, you have to be. Maybe even black-ops. Trained killers, those men. I’ve heard stories of the things they did. Yeah…,” Halton trails off and looks at the men surrounding them. “I’ve heard those stories and if you weren’t one of them, you sure should have been.”
Merchant is a stone, and she is losing her patience.
“What about her? She doesn’t look like black-ops to me,” one of the soldiers says.
Red growls and can already see the look on the man’s face as she rips his still beating heart from his chest. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“A friend maybe?” Halton asks. He takes a step closer and her palms grow wet. She can already feel his blood between her fingers. “A lover perhaps.”
He draws out the final S and Merchant steps up. Several rifles echo with the sound of rounds readying in their chambers.
“She travels with me. I’ve already told you we are headed west. Where she wants to go when we reach there is up to her. Until then, what happens to her, happens to me,” Merchant cuts in, his voice low and the meaning loud.
Halton looks up at Merchant’s face towering over his own.
“Yeah, your travel buddy. I read you loud and clear,” he says and backs up to put a layer of his men between him and them. “Well, at this point in the night, you will be staying here with us. You can rest and when the sun comes up, we’ll see about you getting back on the road.”
The soldier turns to leave, but those surrounding them do not move.
“What about Logan?” Red blurts out.
Merchant reaches out to pull her behind him, but she side steps it easily. Several men change position to clear their path to her. She doesn’t care. Halton stops moving, and she has what she wants.
“Oh, he’ll probably want to see you soon enough, my lady. You wouldn’t be here and alive if it wasn’t so,” Halton says. Without turning he begins his trek toward the middle of the fortress, mumbling to himself. “Black-ops. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
Several of the surrounding soldiers begin to back away, a path clearing in a direction toward the interior, but not where Halton is headed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Merchant asks, his voice a surprisingly low hiss.
Red does not care. She waves him away and begins the march down the path they are being shown. None of this bullshit matters. They do not need rest. If they are going to be pushed out by morning, she has only tonight to finish the job. Merchant has her gun and the strength, but if he isn’t going to finish the job, then she sure as hell will.
Night is not as dark here as it is in the rest of the world. Fires burn on torches and candles and even a few light bulbs flicker with the hum of electricity. A chugging clears the night air, a slow sound off in the distance carrying with it the smell of old diesel and the taste of lead.
Red paces in front of the barred window. Light filters in with an off-white hew and she digs her nails into the palms of her hands. There is a guard outside the front door of their confined room. Besides the stench of the air, she can feel the humidity squeezing itself against her skin and Merchant’s dark personae sitting quietly in the furthest corner is not helping anything.
“Do you have to sit there like that?” she demands.
Merchant’s eyes open, the contours of his face lost to shadow but the whites of his eyes as clear as a mid-day sun.
“Would you prefer I follow in the steps you are burning into the ground?”
She stops and regards the flat brown carpet beneath her boots. Dulled by age or use, the threadbare covering doesn’t move as she scuffs a toe across and there are more than a dozen stains in the small area illuminated by the outdoor lights.
“You could do something! Maybe try and think of something that will get the job done,” she demands and goes back to pacing.
Even if she was burning a hole in the carpet, she wouldn’t fucking care.
“Believe me or not, I am doing something,” he answers.
She cannot hold back the small chuckle.
“What? Collecting dust while that asshole sits out there and makes us wait?”
Frustrated, she slams her fist into the wall beside the window and the glass shakes. The shadow of the men guarding the door shift and she catches the man’s face as he looks in. She gives him her best smile and his eyes travel as low as the window will allow.
He finds her middle finger pointed right at him. She doesn’t care when he goes back to his seat.
“You don’t think there is any way they remember you?” Merchant asks.
Red stops her pacing but doesn’t look at him.
“Not a fucking chance. They were too busy playing footsie with the good old Brother George back there and those who didn’t give two shits about the holy man were spending too much time looking at the girls a lot younger than myself. Whole fucking crew needs to take a dirt nap.”
She spits on the ground and kicks at the wet spot. Fucking dust covered carpet.
“Good because someone is coming,” Merchant says.
Red looks his way but then spins as the lock on the door begins to turn.
Halton and two of his goons stand in the doorway, their silhouette darkened by the lights behind them.
“Mr. Barnett will see you now,” Halton says.
Stepping out of the way, his men back up leaving the door wide open. Red makes it to the portal first with Merchant on her heels.
“Just the lady, for now,” Halton says with his hand up and the barrels of two rifles following the trail of his arm. “Mr. Barnett finds there to be no reason you both need to come since it was the lady who said she carries the secrets he needs. I assure you, Mr. Merchant, that no harm will come to your friend. I implore you to remain and rest. Let my men know if you need anything and they will oblige you where they are capable.”
Merchant gives her a look, his frame stretching within the door, and she nods without saying a word. His eyes narrow but he backs into the room and lets the shadows fill in around him before they shut the door.
She turns to Halton and does her best to ignore the four men with rifles surrounding them.
“Where do we go from here?” she asks.
The smile on Halton’s face warms his tired features and the guards slide back as they move out onto the road.
“He’s waiting for you in his guest house. Was anxious to meet you once he got word that you have what he has been seeking for so long.”
Red lets the questions in her mind go on hold as they make their way through tight streets tucked between dark and cold structures. Like the walls that surround them, everything is made of reclaimed and re-purposed metal. Sharp edges cut into the jagged holes of the ground and high above they resemble spikes waiting for heads to be put out for display. A million rusted knives slicing at the cold world giving the whole fortress the feeling of an angry mob.
Dark smoke lifts into the air above fires and the sound of engines grows louder. A soot darkens the edges of her shirt where the blood has dried brown and heavy. She can see the thinnest of layers covering her skin where they let her wash away the blood of the infected as she waited for them.
“Took him long enough to come and get me if he really needed it so badly,” she says.
At first, he does not answer. Hands in pants pocket, he’s content with walking beside her, his men shadows following their every move.
“He’s a busy man. Plus, we needed to make sure you were the real deal. Can’t just let anyone in through our front door just because they promise to pay their way, now can we?”
Red can feel more eyes watching as they continue along.
“And he is sure now?” she asks.
“As sure as he will ever be. Can’t know anything for certain anymore, but Mr. Barnett is a calculating man. He’s been weighing the odds since the moment you neared our gate.”
“Let me guess. The odds are not in my favor,” Red says.
Halton chuckles.
“On the contrary, my beautiful friend. They could not be any better,” he replies with the sweep of his arm and a twinkle in his somber eyes. “If we felt you were lying, you and your big friend would already be dead. Black-ops or not, your friend looks like he’s one hardened man, but flesh is flesh and, in the end, we all will die.”
Red basks in the revelation that he doesn’t know he may have never spoken more true words in his life.
“And you are ready to die defending this man?” Red asks.
The softer look on Halton’s face hardens into a rock. He stares straight ahead.
“I will die defending my men and my home. Do not get me wrong. Mr. Barnett is a generous employer, when the need arises, but he, like everyone else, is just a man. These soldiers you see with us, they are the real deal. Fighters every one of them. Their blood runs so those that live here may rise to see another day. I do not take their sacrifice lightly, and neither should you.”
Red nods her head in agreement. The buildings with their murderous points and unwelcoming glare continue as they turn this way and that. Any attempt to keep track of where they are was forgotten roads ago. She can do nothing but hope that Merchant will find his own way in the end. A small smile creeps its way to the corner of her lips. The vision of Barnett’s death already plays behind her eyes.
“How many people live here, Halton?” she asks, trying to soften the mood once again.
A relaxed look returns to his face and his stride lengthens into a confident and relaxed walk.
“Exactly two thousand, six hundred, and forty-three. Women and children make up a large portion of our population as any man capable of bearing arms is conscripted into the defense of the city. Sadly, it keeps the population of the young soldiers at a declining rate, but we do our best to mitigate the losses where we can.”
She stares hard into his face and a chuckle echoes as he drops his head back into a laugh.
Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence Page 17
