Land of the Dead (Rise of the Empaths Book 2)

by A. S. Hames

  I take out my captain’s badge. I recall how special it seemed when I first saw Ax wearing it. I tuck it into my pocket and button the flap – then I take the Representative’s letter to his son.

  “Dear Ma and Pa” keeps going through my head. I know it’s not that, but might it be something close to it?

  3 098/9&+ ~9809/

  Dear Leader? That doesn’t fit. Nor does Dear Son.

  Ben stirs.

  “Oh, I overslept.”

  “No, you slept just the right amount.”

  He sits up and rubs his eyes.

  “Ben, how might you start a letter if you were the Representative writing to your son, who happens to be Leader of the Nation?”

  He scratches his head.

  “I don’t know. Dear son?”

  “No, it’s longer. Although… “My dear son”… No, that doesn’t fit either.”

  Ben comes over and we look together. It’s nice having our shoulders lean against each other. But he pulls away again.

  “It’s just squiggles, Jay.”

  He’s right, of course, but I wonder if I should teach him to read.

  “You think he loved his son?” he asks.

  “I think he did.”

  “My darling son?”

  “Maybe… but no. Not quite. But… My dearest…” It takes a second to sink in. “It fits.”

  “You mean you can read it?”

  “Hang on, Ben. Give me a minute.”

  I carefully write the new letters above the original and use them to decode further.

  my dearest leader

  There’s not much room on the paper, but I write the next bit out, using what I know.

  at as my #5mble and 1aan75l d5ty to tell yo5 t#at t#e $ar an t#e nort#-$est does not go $ell.

  I pick out what I can. “At as my… something… to tell you… north-west does not go… well?”

  I write out the changes. Now we have something.

  my dearest leader. at as my humble and 1aan7ul duty to tell you that the war an the north-west does not go well. your general has laed to you.

  “I bet some of the letters don’t change. And there’s probably an order to do it. Like I should have decoded I before A. I think I can have a guess at the whole page though.”

  “Go on then,” Ben says.

  “Okay… my dearest leader, it is my humble and… something… duty to tell you that the war in the north-west does not go well. Your general has lied to you. We are… something… children into our… something… ranks now. Only today I witnessed a child being ordered to shoot a… prisoner in your honor. These can only be the end days. Something… thanks to God that you… canceled your… planned visit.”

  “Lucky him,” Ben says.

  “However… I sense an… opportunity. A secret meeting I had with an emissary of the… blood reds… to form an… open alliance.”

  I stare at the rest of the page. Then I decode it.

  “I can only suggest you… strive toward an agreement. I feel the tide could then turn in our favor… against the South and East States.”

  I stare at Ben.

  “This was never meant to end the war. It was going to make it bigger.”

  “So, the Representative didn’t want the colonel seeing this, because he knew he’d stop him.”

  “Our instinct was right all along. Maybe we should have trusted ourselves.”

  I try to clear the confusion from my thoughts. I try to think about what I know. Is this the real reason Colonel Rose wanted the Representative captured?

  “Where did the Representative go on his tour?”

  “Not sure,” Ben says. “Around the north?”

  “Who are the blood reds?” I ask.

  “They’re the redcoats.”

  “Yes, but who exactly are they?”

  “Outsiders from the north.”

  I’m thinking Colonel Rose knew all this but I decide to leave it for now. I need to get it a lot clearer in my mind. One thing’s for sure – the Representative lied to me, and I fell for it because I’m the worst kind of fool – one who thinks she’s clever.

  With thoughts of redcoats in my head, we get going again – but, lacking energy, those redcoats soon fade to no more than the sound of my footsteps. Blood. Red. Coats. Blood. Red. Coats.

  BEN

  Jay’s surprise news about being an empath is still with me. It’s like a dull headache, only one that’s spread through my whole body. I’m so confused and troubled by it. Jay is so, so special to me, but how can there be any kind of future for an empath and an ordinary boy like me?

  Because that’s what I’d like.

  Us.

  Together.

  “Bridge ahead,” she says.

  We’re approaching a wide river with the grandest iron bridge I’ve ever seen. As we get nearer, I see there’s a great deal of detail in the metalwork that makes it look important. It’s the kind of thing I’d love to ask someone about, but right now its only value is in letting us get across.

  I sometimes wonder about big structures. I worked hard with a few others to build a home for me and Kim – so I know all about putting structures up. The hardest thing is having bigger ideas, where you can see the opportunity to do more, but you lack the wherewithal to carry it out. I cannot for one second imagine how people got ideas from out of nowhere to put up big structures. It just doesn’t make sense. All we ever do in the valleys is find a way to do something a little bigger and a little better next time. As my old grandpa used to say – what kind of mind created the cities of towers that lie abandoned on the coast? But my thinking is it had to be like our endeavors, and I reckon us valley folk would take a thousand years to get to that kind of scale. But people in the valleys like to laugh at fools, so it’s never worth discussing it with too many folk. After all, the idea that people lived in big cities for a thousand years doesn’t make any kind of sense either.

  It’s the best part of another day before we find the trail forking off north-east and south-east. Is this where Roadway Five ends? Is the right-hand fork the trail to the Lake Towns? It must be.

  “The Lake Towns,” Jay says as we begin to take the south-east fork. Did she just read my mind? No, I’m sure anyone would have come up with the same thing. It makes me wonder though. Is that how it will always be between us, with me being suspicious of her?

  Von’s a little ahead, but he comes back to us growling.

  “That’s not good,” I say.

  Then we see them – six men on foot heading our way. They aren’t in uniform, but they look ready for fighting.

  “They don’t look friendly,” Jay says.

  We have a gap that’s closing with each second I waste thinking about it.

  “This way,” I say and we’re galloping off the trail.

  Krak! Krak!

  One of them is firing a gun into the air. We continue running as fast as famished bodies will allow, but I don’t think we can outrun them. We’re going to have to shoot. Six against two. It’s not good.

  “Hey, don’t run!” one of them calls. “We only want to talk!”

  They’re getting nearer.

  Krak!

  A shot just misses me.

  There’s a brow ahead. If we could reach it.

  Krak!

  Another shot comes in. It’s me they’re trying to kill. Not Jay.

  “Stop running, girl. We’re gonna getcha anyhow.”

  Another shot comes in, hitting the ground by my foot. We have to make it to the brow. We have to get over it and turn and drop and aim and shoot these devils dead.

  We keep running, Jay, Von, and me, snaking, weaving. It’s real close. And we’re over it. And – whoa! We’re almost upon a whole regiment of charcoal grays setting up camp by a river. We duck and drop and roll into bushes to hide as best we can. It’s only a few seconds before the men appear over the brow, hollering and waving guns, and letting off another sky-bound shot.

  Krak! Krak! Krak! A murderous volley
comes back at them from four or five of the charcoals. Three of our pursuers go down instantly. The others turn and run. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again. It just leaves us with an urgent need to keep crawling before the charcoals come and take a closer look at who they’ve just killed.

  JAY

  Thankfully, we’re a good sixty feet away in a grassy dip when two charcoals come and dish out a couple of finishing-off shots. Relieved that it’s not us staring blankly at the sky, I look a little closer at the regiment camped thirty yards away. There must be a hundred troopers. Maybe two hundred men this end, and a hundred women on the far side nearer the water. There are a dozen wagons, six horses and a host of mules. They even have two cars. These are the people who destroyed Tine. No doubt about it.

  Immediately, I think of Zu. Is she here? I look around but I can’t see her. They have captive men and women though, tied to the wagons. I shudder. Is the charcoal army’s food supply marching with them? After all, they’re not likely to eat their mules.

  I look to Ben. He’s too low down to see. Von is lying beside him. I’m glad about that. I feel sick. I want to kill them all. But I have no power. I close my eyes but the images remain, just as clear. It fires hatred in me. People never had to suffer like this before everyone began their campaigns against us. This is why we need the Nation. Not as it is, but in a reborn form. Those who say we don’t are dealing in insanity and will see the whole country and everything in it slide into Hell.

  “See anything?” Ben says. He’s coming up alongside me.

  “Nothing good.”

  “They have a lot of weapons,” he says. I sense he’s thinking like me, that they should all be shot dead.

  “They also have cars,” I say.

  “I wonder if they have Zu…”

  “I can’t see her.”

  “Those people,” he says. “We should rescue them.”

  I was hoping he wouldn’t say that, even though I know he’s right. I’m not sure what we can do with the numbers they have. I’m not sure we’d get ten yards.

  “We should rest,” I say. “If we’re going in, we’ll need the dark on our side.”

  Looking at our opponents again, I’m not sure who camp fires will benefit. Will it be dark enough for us? Or light enough for them? It’s plain we’ll be able to get in among them, but will we be able to get out again? I don’t like situations where we need everything to go just right. If I’ve learned anything about war, it’s that something will definitely go wrong – and it will be something you never even gave a thought to.

  “See that one by the end wagon?” Ben says. “Why’s he over there?”

  I don’t have an answer, although… now he mentions it, that could be the shape of a big gun under the cover.

  “He’s guarding it,” Ben says. “I reckon it’s a big gun.”

  “Me too.”

  “I wonder if we could get Von to bring him down.”

  I think about it. We’ve been with Von a good while now. Do I just point and let him go? I know he’s a goddamn killing machine, but how do I make sure he kills the right man?

  “Until dark,” Ben says.

  He crawls back to where Von is trying to sleep and joins him in that endeavor.

  Sleep. It’s probably a good idea, because what lies ahead will require us to be rested and alert. After all, it would be crazy to take on hundreds of soldiers if we’re tired.

  14. The Killer in Me

  BEN

  With a waxing crescent moon rising, it’s dark on the ground. Beyond the camp, the water looks black and still. I almost smile at how we might have missed this river by staying on the trail. It’s a wide stretch, much wider than anything we’ve seen in an age, and I can smell big fish cooking over fires. We’re on high ground, but I’m guessing the lower ground where the charcoals are camped would be prone to flooding in winter, assuming they ever get rain here. I wish it would flood now. I wish the river would rise up and wash them all away.

  “Memories of evil don’t fade, do they,” Jay says.

  I think of Pa and the empath who brought him down.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” I say. But I reckon she’s right. I reckon there’s a curse on those who witness evil, a curse that forces them – us – to always remember. If we live, that is.

  “Do you think some people are born evil?” she says.

  “Could be.”

  “If you take away the things that need to happen in a war, there are things left over. Things that don’t need to happen, unless people are born evil.”

  I’d prefer to concentrate on freeing those men and women tied to the wagons, not the details of war.

  “Thing is,” she says, “it would mean there are some among us in peace time who are capable of the worst kinds of evil. It could be the baker, the ironmonger, the teacher…”

  I wish she wouldn’t talk like this. It’s not like we can do much about it. We’re just two young people who matter as much to the world as a bug on a leaf. The main thing now is surviving what comes next – and to do that, I need to find the killer in me.

  JAY

  I think of Dub shooting the colonel, and for some crazy reason I can’t stop myself from making up a rhyme.

  He helped the farmer, he helped the miller

  And all the time, he was a killer.

  How well do we really know anyone? Are there clues to who’s evil? I think of Essie shooting a prisoner, and of the crowd, some of who were watching too eagerly.

  I wish I had a clear head. I wish I had a porch to sit on. I wish I had a life to live. A family close by. I wish I could sing a song about the moon. I wrote one once, although I never finished it. I was eleven, I think. How did it go again?

  If the Moon don’t care, then why’s he there…

  I add a new line.

  And why’s he still, like he’s ready for the kill…

  My empath abilities… developing them to the full would help me know the killer before he struck. Wouldn’t that be a good thing for the world? If I could do that to save lives, wouldn’t it free me from the prospect of being burned alive or having certain organs cut out with a rusty knife?

  I realize how scared I am. It’s been boiling away inside me for a while now. In fact, I’m surprised there’s not steam made of worry spiraling upward from my head and shoulders. Maybe there is.

  I look to Von. He’s alert. I try to get a sense of him. I try really hard… and I…

  Ben nudges me, which I don’t mind.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready,” I say. “Come on, Von.”

  And, in this moment, I feel our wolf’s readiness and his understanding that things are about to get dangerous.

  We move and I think of Dub’s warning that we would become a suicide squad. Well, we are now, Dub.

  If the Moon don’t care, then why’s he there

  ‘Cos if he don’t care, it’s rude to stare

  We reach the edge of the camp. There are two troopers by a fire eating cookies from a box. They’re between us and the captives. A tied woman sees us. Her eyes widen. I place a finger to my lips.

  Von is at my side. I hope he knows what to do because I have no idea how to take a wolf into a real fight. Fact is, we’re at Hell’s door and there’s likely no way back for us.

  The two men at the fireside must hear us because they get up and reach for their guns. But Von is on one of them and Ben is shooting.

  Krak! Krak!

  The two men are down. As we hurry past them, I take their cookie box.

  “What’s going on?” a soldier calls.

  Troopers are stirring.

  We start to untie the captives… and those we free untie the others. I keep hold of the cookie box. If I survive, I want to eat cookies.

  Krak! Krak!

  Shots are coming in. We return fire. Two of the freed captives grab the dead soldiers’ weapons. There are four of us now exchanging fire with the enemy. We pull back to a supply wagon to get some protection and
I’m able to push a dead soldier’s gun into my waistband.

  Kra-kra-kra-kra-kra!

  I dive to the ground.

  Kra-kra-kra-kra-kra!

  It’s a machine gun! We’re in trouble now, except… the shooting stops. The gunner is trying to turn his machine gun on a wolf, but Von’s under the weapon and up at the man’s throat. Even before the man is dead, one of the freed women is up on the machine gun wagon and firing the damned thing into the emerging soldiers.

  “Von! Here!”

  He leaps down and bounds over.

  There is a lot of movement now. Half-drunk, half-asleep charcoals are hauling themselves blindly this way and that. I don’t see many get more than a few yards from the point where they’ve understood what’s happening.

  Krak! Krak! Krak!

  Shots are coming back at us from the troopers. Among them, in the half-light, I think I recognize someone. Her hands are tied.

  Krak! Krak!

  Kra-kra-kra-kra-kra-kra-kra!

  I pull back. It’s that or get myself shot up. I look again for Zu, but she’s a prisoner of the troopers who are pulling back and shooting as they go.

  Krak! Krak!

  Kra-kra-kra-kra-kra-kra-kra-kra!

  We have to keep backing out, firing as we go. Then the machine gun runs dry. The woman immediately jumps down and takes a handgun from a dead guard.

  Krak! Krak!

  Shots are coming into her. She’s hit. She’s hit again. And again. She fires back. She falls down.

  We’re beyond the camp now. Moving toward safety.

  Krak! Krak!

  More shots. Coming in from a different direction.

  Krak! Krak!

  I look across to Ben but his eyes are fixed ahead.

  Behind us, the exchange of gunfire grows. I stop looking back now. We just keep on running, up into the higher ground, into the night.

  The gunfire doesn’t last long. Given the number of soldiers, I guess the captives we freed are all dead. I could wonder if we’ve achieved anything in giving them death over captivity, but this isn’t the time. Especially now I can hear hooves.