“Insurance policy?” she asks.
The muscles in her legs cramp and he is a step behind her, his presence baring down on her as the knife wavers between them with every step.
“Yeah, if you don’t keep moving and stay ahead of these monsters, I have little to fight with other than this pig sticker I’m carrying. It might keep one or two of them off me, but by the sounds of it there are far more of them quickly closing in behind us. If you don’t get that tight ass of yours moving, when they catch us, I’m going to let them feed on you while I make a run for it. Now, it’s in YOUR best interest that they don’t catch us. Understand?”
Kelly nods and keeps pushing through the undergrowth of the forest. Thick brambles and thorns cut into the denim covering her legs and scratch at the already bleeding skin of her arms. She has nowhere to run. No place to hide. This is the only way she is going to survive.
Logan Barnett.
Her savior.
Her captor.
Her monster.
23
A Tethered Monster and Unleashed Revenge
The trail of blood behind them is thick and easy to follow. There is no time to hide the evidence and looking back, they do not see any signs of pursuit.
Darkness complete overhead, Merchant pushes Red through the moonlight and the forest. Her walk is staggered, and she stops frequently to lean against the trunk of a tree or a rock large enough to rest against.
“We’ve lost this one again,” Snake-Eyes says.
His ghost form weaves in and out between the Oaks and the pines. More shadow than substance, he’s little more than a figment caught with the corner of the eye.
“She’s stronger than she was,” Merchant says.
He watches as she staggers further forward. Blood drips from her, both from the wound opened on her shoulder and the gore left to dry on her shirt and skin where she gutted those men back at the wall.
“Bleeding like a ravaged animal, you may as well put her out of her misery,” Snake-Eyes adds.
“You sound like you actually care about her,” Merchant says.
The ghost waves away the suggestion with a look and the back of a hand that passes through a bush without disturbing a single leaf.
“We both know what happens if you kill her. That damn bag of yours is going to kill you one day and I’m going to be there laughing when it happens. Every new weight gets you one step closer, and what’s the life of a single infected going to do? Go ahead demon, kill her. Add to the memories you already carry.”
Merchant grits his teeth and turns away. Red stumbles, falls to one knee, and then picks herself back up.
“You OK up there?” he asks.
She growls but does not turn around.
“I’m fucking hungry again. It’s like my stomach can never fill and all my mind can think of is the next thing I’m putting into my mouth. Doesn’t help the smell of blood is everywhere,” she replies.
“We’ll get to the village soon enough. They’ll take care of you like they did last time. You’ll be home again.”
“You mean a fucking monster again. This time it’s real, Merchant. You know it. Whoever the fuck you are talking to knows it. May as well take that pistol I gave you and put me out of my misery. All I can do is think of eating. I’m not even sure we are going in the right direction.”
“I do,” Merchant says.
“What?” Red questions, stops, and turns around.
Merchant doesn’t stop and keeps walking. She stares at him as he passes and licks her lips smearing the blood over the white of her skin.
“We are going in the correct direction. We’ll be far enough from the city by daybreak and can follow the road from there. You’ll make it, Red. Save your strength, you are going to need it.”
He tosses her a stick of jerky and she catches it with her good arm. The wounded one is surprisingly still agile, but slow as the blood refuses stop its flow down her arm. The sound of her teeth grinding into the dried meat is louder than the crunch of leaves beneath their boots.
“Whatever you say, demon,” Snake-Eyes cuts in. “We both know she doesn’t have a chance. You are bringing a lamb to slaughter, and you know it. She’ll be lucky if that village is still even in one piece. We all saw the army leaving and with that much firepower, they may even be able to slow you down.”
Merchant ignores the ghost’s taunts and keeps moving, Red close on his heels. The army isn’t the problem. He doubts the men and women of the town have anything to defend themselves against anything resembling an army, but it’s what travels in their wake. He can still feel the burn across his face. The damage may have healed, but there is something else there. The look in the man’s eyes. He’s seen it before.
Evil.
Power.
This isn’t the first time they have crossed paths. Trying to think of the last time he saw those eyes, he can only remember one thing. There were a lot more bodies on the ground than that little village and Brother George can supply.
Smoke swirls in the air like carrion. Wide, slow circles, meandering and refusing to leave their vigil. The smell of sulfur and death fills the air. The taste of bile from deep within the gut burns the tongue and rots the teeth.
Crackles of gunfire pop in the distance. Little echoes of a world moved on and a war that has forgotten. Movement is pain and pain is remembrance. A memory that the misery isn’t over, and the worst is yet to come.
Merchant tries to move but the chains hold him down. Invisible bonds that feel more like an elephant sitting on his chest than bindings refusing to let him move. He squeezes his hands into fists and fills them with blood-soaked dirt. The grains cut at his skin and he watches the smoke above. A tunnel of gray and ash spinning a circle directly down to him.
Lucky for him.
Anyone with twenty miles could follow that to his useless body. Shriveled here like a corpse, all bones and leathery skin.
“You are a unique one,” a raspy voice cuts through the air. “Unlike the others, I see great potential in you. Strength, determination, and something else. Deep inside, it waits. Sitting in anticipation of one day being released.”
Merchant does not see the speaker, but his chest feels the weight of the words. A needle pushes through uniform and body armor until it breaks skin and his body erupts into a fiery pit. Molten slag fills his gut and he can feel it melt right through his body, out his ass, and pooling where it withers away the muscle and skin of his legs in a charring heap of meat and ash.
He tries to scream but the words are boiled out in bubbles and coughs. Convulsions rampage their way through his limbs, cramping muscles not melted into putrid liquid and bubbles burst with pus and bile.
“Deep inside of you it is. Such a beautiful specimen. They do not make them like they used to, but even then, you would be special,” the voice continues. Closer now, the sharp-edged sound cuts through the air and eardrums. “I must have you for my collection. The greatest of my collection. A magnum opus so early in my display. Father would be so proud. I will model them after you, mirror images that will never match the perfection of you, but even minor flaws will create such masterpieces.”
A flash of light blinds Merchant as the pain ripples like still water and the skin on his chest heaves as he struggles for air. The stench of burning meat, cooked human flesh after a horrific fire, fills his mouth instead of the life-giving oxygen he needs. His eyes roll back, and parts of his body refuse to move regardless of their commands.
“Do not fight it. I am almost there. I can feel what you hide deep inside you. There is nothing that I cannot see,” the voice whispers and the words draw blood that drips hot and sticky. “Yes, I can feel it, almost within my grasp.”
The pressure on his chest crushes through bones and Merchant still cannot see anything but the bright blue sky and the gray poison tornado now filled with the cooking smoke of his body.
Why is this happening to me?
The answer does not come. Blood fills his m
outh and he can feel the intruder moving through the emptiness within his body the burning has left. Flowing through every cavity within him, the explorer leaves no corner unturned. Every dark spot is examined, his mind an open book.
“I see it now,” the voice coos. “Such a secret. Father would be amazed, and to think one of you carried such a gift. We never would have thought it possible, but here I see it with my own two eyes.”
A dark shadow draws closer and blocks the light from above. Wraithlike, it sucks the world away in the darkness that competes with life itself. Merchant tries to blink the tears of pain away, but his body is not his own. He coughs and his throat fills.
The figure leans down above his face. Things crawl within that darkness. Insects and the workers of decay. Two eyes open and Merchant chokes out a gasp.
Green flame burns within the shadowed sockets. Pupils made of fire watch with wonder, regarding him as a curiosity and probing his thoughts with a single look.
“It is almost within my grasp. Ooh, father will be so happy,” the shadow taunts.
A white flash of flame erupts behind the darkness and the darkness is thrown clear. The pain and pressure rips from Merchant’s body with all the air in his lungs. He gasps and the cold sweet taste of dust filled air fills his mouth and a fresh flow of tears clouds his eyes.
“You!” the darkness screams.
White fire, a giant ball of it, blinds Merchant. Walking passed him, the sudden need to roll and look away becomes almost too strong to ignore. Merchant tries to comply, but the muscles in his body cramp and his back arches. A foam fills his mouth and the tongue between his teeth is thick and heavy.
Air refuses to fill his lungs. The bright flame stalks the cowering darkness. Merchant tries to reach toward them, but every movement is excruciating in the tearing of his muscles.
“Your effort here is wasted. He dies and Father will have him,” the shadow hisses. “It is too late, and, in the end, we will have him. Look, see for yourself. The light within him fades, the darkness is all that remains.”
Merchant’s eyes grow heavy. His lungs are thousand-pound weights and he tries desperately to breathe. His entire body burns. The passage in his throat is clogged. His mind swirls in endless circles.
The light stops its approach. Somehow, without being to see any features, Merchant can tell it turns toward him. His dirty, blood crusted hand reaches out. Wanting, needing whatever it is that can scare away the darkness.
The world swirls in his eyes. Confusion and disorientation. He cannot keep his eyes open as his insides burn and scream. He’s dying. Chocking on his own tongue and vomit. Hand shaking, he reaches out.
The light draws closer. Almost within grasp. The strength in his arm fails. It hits the ground. Dust kicks into the air. His vision darkens.
This is it.
Merchant wants to scream. Yell that he has so much more to do, but the bubbles between his lips pop and the world is silent once more.
24
Pain Does Not Equal Regret
Whichever is worse, the heartache of loss or the numbing of toes and cracking of aching bones over miles of marching, Kelly does not know.
She has never been this far. Miles, years, an entire world now separates her from home. Whatever remains of it. Her last tears were shed hours ago and now the emptiness inside is an ache that rattles within her, wide and hollow.
Logan remains right behind her. His heavy breathing a constant reminder as it chokes and coughs its way through the empty forest. Whatever had found them is no longer there. No sound of pursuit or attack since they ran into each other and now she isn’t so sure she sees it as a good thing.
Leaves crackle beneath her shoes, the splitting pain of her feet driving needles up her legs and the warmth of the coming morning already filling her shirt with sweat. Salt coats her lips and the smell of Barnett is worse than the spring families of skunks that live and make their homes beneath the old hay barn on the west edge of town.
A new sob rattles Kelly’s chest and she coughs at the thought. The memory of the flames cutting a mile into the sky as the buildings burned is still fresh and raw in her mind. Probably the brightest light this world has seen in years as the entire remaining supply of feed and supplies burned to ash and fell beneath the wrath of the monster less than two steps behind her.
“We are almost there, sweet thing,” Barnett says.
He calls her SWEET THING now and Kelly wants to claw his eyes out and stomp on them until they are mush in the dirt beneath her feet.
“Almost there. Once we reach the road, I’ll radio my men and we’ll be on our way,” he says.
Biting her tongue, she stomps her next several steps into the hardened forest earth and a root gives way beneath her ankle. Pain, a ripping sound, and a shriek sends Kelly sprawling onto her knees and then her face. Tears run from her eyes as fire purifies the inside of her right leg.
“Ah, get the fuck up,” Barnett barks.
Rolling away, Kelly grabs for her ankle. The skin is already tender beneath her touch and the pain is half way up her calve.
“Don’t touch me!” she shouts and tries to scoot herself up against the base of the nearest tree.
A birch with its narrow trunk and bark of paper crinkles against her body. The leaves above rustle against the lightening sky now a deep purple as it prepares its journey to blue with the coming of the sun.
“I do not have time for this, you stupid little bitch,” Barnett barks again and reaches for her arm.
On instinct, she swats away his attempt before pulling her leg closer to her body.
“Get the fuck away from me. I twisted my ankle. I can’t keep walking,” she yells back at him.
“You are going to keep walking if I say you are, and I wouldn’t give a shit if you broke the damn thing.”
He reaches for her and when she swats at him again, he drops his hand before bringing it across her face with a resounding crack.
Tears and sobs erupt from her body as she tumbles onto her side, the roots and sharp twigs of the ground cutting into her face.
“I told you, we are moving, and that is final. Get that pretty, little ass of yours off the ground, and let’s get moving.”
Kelly claws at the forest floor and tries to pull herself away. Dirt and stone peel away at the nails of her hands and her leg is useless from the knee down. A dead weight that anchors her as the fat man approaches.
“I said get away from me,” she screams.
A meaty hand wraps itself around her arm and spins her onto her back. She looks up at him. His face of puffy red cheeks, wild angry eyes, and a matt of wet dark hair plastered to every side of his round piggish head.
“Stupid fucking girl. I’m trying to save your life, and this is how you treat me.”
He reaches down again, his giant paw opening to grab the front of her shirt. She doesn’t know what she takes a hold of, but it breaks away, and she swings it as hard as she can.
A wet thud cracks the man on the side of the head. His eyes roll back, turning a milky white, and he crashes against the side of the Birch. Leaves and small twigs crash and try to cover him in a natural blanket. His body does a slow slide down the twisted bark and Kelly does not have time to see if she has killed him.
Pain sears through her leg as she rolls onto her knees and begins to crawl away. With every single movement, she drives the torture through her body, but she bites back and lets it fall away with the tears that drip from her cheeks and nose.
Putting one hand in front of the other, she keeps going. Whatever distance she can use to separate them, she’ll take. Hide in a bush. Roll down a hill and get lost in the shadows that stay well past sunrise. Once he realizes he can’t find her, he’ll give up and head back to his hellhole city.
The infected can find him there. Eat out his eyes and burn the world around him like he has done to her. Muscle and joints ache as she moves forward. The thought of the infected sends ice down her spine, but she can’t let it s
top her.
New cuts open on her arm and the pain is magnified against everything she feels. A darkness opens ahead. Maybe it’s a hill. A shallow drop that will help conceal where she is.
It is only a few dozen feet more. Kelly digs her fingers into the ground and pulls with everything she has left. Each step a horrid grind of determination and sheer will.
The end is within her reach. She can feel the ground begin to dip. A smile dares to crease the edges of her lips.
“Got you, you fucking little whore,” Barnett’s bark is angry and the grip on her shirt as he flips her onto her back is proof he has a bite. “Think you can get rid of me with a simple whack on the head? I’ll show you, you little piece of shit. Takes more than a crack on the noggin to stop the likes of Logan Barnett.”
Kelly tries to crawl away on her back, kick at his legs with her good ankle and slide down the hill. He moves with her meager attempt at an escape and stomps his boot down on her twisted limb.
“Ah!” she screams.
The fire racing through her leg threatens to black her out. The sky and its lightening blue color swims and tears run freely down her face.
“Don’t go calling every fucking monster in this forest, you little bitch. We don’t have time for that. I figured I’d get to wait till I got us back, cleaned you up a bit, then taught you how to truly appreciate everything I’ve done for you. I guess we can start our lessons right here, right now.”
Grinding his heel into her leg, Kelly’s body convulses, and he laughs as her leg arches but the weight he presses down with refuses to let her move. With practiced hands he begins to work at his belt. The large buckle snapping away with a firm click and springing free of the tension stretching it.
“Now, you are going to be a good girl and stay quiet or this is going to be a lot rougher than you could ever imagine,” Barnett says.
Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence Page 25
