Hamilton laughed easily. “A hack? You sure he didn’t double as a butcher? There seems to be less of you. Ha-ha! Oh, Cole, somehow you always manage to make the wrong choices. At least you’re lucky. Because Aikens had already mentioned you to the press, he had no choice but to make your stay of execution permanent. After you snubbed him, he didn’t want to. I gotta tell you, he was pissed.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Cole said. “I also bet that you didn’t come just to shoot the shit.”
“Of course not. I’m here because of Julius Fantucci.” He said this with ominous overtones, as if Cole should be worried. Cole was too tired to be worried, and waited without expression for Hamilton to get to the point. Hamilton rolled his eyes. “Mr. Fantucci wanted to say that you and him were square. You know, even.”
Cole shrugged. “Yeah?”
“Fuck, Cole. You should be thanking me. I told him to go easy on you. You missed his deadline. Normally, people die when that happens.”
“What was I thinking?” Cole replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for setting me up for murder. I guess since McGuigan’s dead, I should thank you for him as well. And Hagy, and Campana. What about you, Corrina? Do you want to thank the great Captain Hamilton?”
She wanted to tear his throat out and drink from the hot streams of blood that would come gushing up—and that was with her feeling dreamy from the tranquilizer dart she had jabbed into her arm a few minutes before. Still, in a way, she did want to thank him. She liked being a zombie. Since she couldn’t drain him dry, she flipped him off.
Hamilton sneered but only for a moment. “As always you bite the hand that feeds you, Cole. I could’ve gotten you in good with the Fantuccis. Julius is about to be vamp-rich and so is everyone on his payroll. But I suppose you’d rather hunt the beasts. Well, I know where you can find one.” He winked at Corrina before he strolled out the door.
That had been five days before. Five hours before, Cole had finally walked out of the doctor’s office—with a collector in tow. He had limped to the bank, withdrawn the last of his money, given half of it to the collector, and then found a cab to take him to mid-town.
Round little Tom Storck, who seemed smaller and who was definitely rounder, gave Cole a controlled smile. Corrina, with her mohawk, didn’t rate even that.
“Mr. Younger. I heard you were dead. Executed, actually.”
“It’s not an execution if you don’t make it to the mulcher. I’m looking for a used Crown.” Their last meeting, which had started out much the same way, hadn’t gone so well. Tom made a face suggesting the belt around his middle was squeezing inwards. In answer Cole dropped a thousand dollars onto the counter.
Ten minutes later they had left with a ’54 Crown in a holster beneath his left arm, and now they were deep beneath the city, on the edge of Devil’s Gorge. The people there weren’t people. For the most part, they were trogs and their stench simultaneously turned Corrina’s stomach as well as made it growl. There were slags among them and she would eat one if she could. Yes, with their sores, their tumors, and their scars, they were hideous to look on, but at least their blood was cleaner than the hideous trogs. She could smell it and she wanted it.
But first they had to get past the huge trog. It was a giant mound of greasy hair and filthy clothes that had been shuffling in front of them, muttering to himself.
“Just shoot it,” Corrina said. Cole turned and glared down at her. “What? Why buy a gun if you ain’t gonna use it?”
“I’m not going to waste ammo when we can just wait until he shuffles on.”
She stuck her fists on her skinny hips and demanded, “Why not? What’s the difference between wasting a bullet and wasting a dollar?”
“I’m not wasting money. I’m keeping a promise.”
“No. Uh-uh. This isn’t the promise you made. You said you’d give whatever money Hagy got from Ashley, but you didn’t get none did you? She didn’t even visit you! Fucking Hamilton visits but not her. And you had to know she knew you were alive. Did she send a card or anything? Nope. She played you, Cole. She’s been playing you like a fuckin…” He glared and she rolled her eyes. Even as a zombie she wasn’t allowed to curse. “She’s been playing you like a stinkin’ violin.”
Cole had to admit that Corrina wasn’t wrong and yet, whenever he pictured Ashley Tinsley in all her perfection, he felt a deep longing and had to stifle a love-struck sigh. All-in all, it was better that she hadn’t visited. Who knows what he would’ve said while he’d been drugged up? he might’ve proposed. “It doesn’t matter. We made a promise.”
The trog had shuffled away and now Cole limped into the gorge. It rose up like a gash on either side of him, reminding him of the crag he had fallen into under the mountain of trash deep in the Infinity Pit. Both faces of the gorge were pitted with caves—the people here were literally cavemen.
“Well, I didn’t promise nothing,” Corrina said, for once not struggling to catch up. “I should be able to keep my half.”
“You don’t have a half. Hmm. Third level on the right, fourth hole after the spring.” He pointed up at a hole that was partially covered by a patched sheet. Sooty smoke belched up from around the edges. Cole hobbled up one of the ramp-like ledges that had been carved into the side of the gorge. The ledges zigzagged upward. It was slow going and the pair attracted the attention of a number of trogs.
“You shouldn’t have worn the suit,” Corrina muttered. “What did you think? She would be here?” The girl laughed at the image of Ashley Tinsley with her diamond shoes, mincing through the crud under foot.
Cole did not answer because he didn’t want to admit the truth. He had been looking back over his shoulder since leaving the doctor’s, hoping to see a sleek black limo following them. There had been nothing. Now there were trogs back there. He slid the Crown from its holster and nudged Corrina. She had the dart gun crammed down the front of her pants.
Although it held but a single dart, it was big and silver and seemed more dangerous than it was. The two turned and stared down at the group. Corrina was small and skinny; Cole was stooped and favored one leg; and yet the trogs paused. The two showed no sign of fear. None. In fact, the girl wore an eager grin that made even the foul trogs second-guess themselves.
They glanced around at each other and then melted away.
Before Cole turned back up the ramp, he saw the frightening leer on Corrina’s face and he had his own moment of fear. He was afraid she was losing the battle against the thing inside of her. What do I do if she turns? he wondered for the hundredth time. “You can put that away,” he told her, holstering his own gun.
She liked it in her hand. It made her feel powerful. Still, he was the boss, and she shoved it down the front of her pants, but this time she didn’t try to hide it with her shirt. She didn’t like the idea of sharing her money with anyone, but it felt almost treasonous to give it to orphaned children. No one had ever given her money. She had earned her money—first in the terrible sweat shops out in Brooklyn, then on her back, whoring in the sewers beneath Manhattan, and finally fighting alongside Cole.
These kids deserve nothing, she thought. Probably a bunch of spoiled little brats!
Then they were at the curtain. “Hey. Uh, hello?” Cole called out. “Hagy sent me. Uh, Susan Hagy.”
The curtain was drawn back by a child half Corrina’s size. She had giant brown eyes that bulged out of a head that was too large for her stick-thin body. A ragged shirt hung from her bony shoulders. Behind her was another child, this one roughly the same size. This was a boy, though it was hard to tell because his hair was as long as the girl’s and his eyes were even larger. But Corrina knew. Boys had a different scent; theirs was hardier, angrier.
“Who are you?” This was from another girl who was a few inches shorter than Corrina. She had Hagy’s eyes but there the similarities ended. Hagy had been a loathsome, ugly creature, riddled with slag and disease. The girl and the other two children were bone white beneath
the grime that covered their bodies. It was as if they had never seen the sun. Corrina could tell they had never been up to the surface—they were pure.
She could smell their wonderfully clean blood through their pale flesh. Her legs began to shake and her fingers hooked into claws.
Then Corrina saw the rusty knife the girl held against her thigh; she saw how tense the girl was. Even against a big man like Cole she would fight to protect the remains of her family. Corrina liked that.
Cole cleared his throat. “Your mom sent us.”
“Where is she?” the boy asked, eagerly. “Is she coming back today?”
The hope in his voice stalled Cole. Corrina answered for him. “No. She died.” The smaller girl looked at her older sister in confusion, while the boy started blinking back tears. Unexpectedly the older girl, who probably wasn’t even ten, snatched her siblings back and held out the knife, pointing it at Corrina.
“You take that back!” she cried. “My mom ain’t dead!”
The knife meant nothing to Corrina; she had no fear of it whatsoever. It made her smile. It made her like the little girl even more. The girl was tough. She reminded Corrina of herself. “She is dead. We both saw her die. Everyone dies, you know.” Almost everyone, Corrina thought to herself. The dead didn’t die. They lived forever. It was a comforting thought and she wondered if the girl would like to be the same as her. Corrina knew she wasn’t like the other Dead-eyes. She was special. Maybe the girl could be special, too.
Or not. Corrina realized that she was special because there was no one like her. No, she decided, she would not turn the girl. Or eat her either. There was so little to all three that they would never satisfy Corrina’s cravings. She was just considering making them her pets when there was a scraping sound outside the door.
Cole spun, his Crown appearing as if by magic. The sight of it shocked a slag of a man. He was bald and hunched, his face wet with open sores. He too held a knife, or he had. At the sight of the gun he dropped it. Summoning all his courage, he asked, “Wha-wha-what do you want here?”
“They said mom died,” the girl answered.
The man’s shoulders hunched even further, but only for a second. Then he straightened as best he could and faced Cole. “You aren’t taking the children and that’s final! They had nothing to do with my sister’s work. You have no right to…”
“We’re not here to take them,” Cole said, finding his voice. “Hagy, uh their mom I mean, wanted to make sure they were taken care of. She had money from a job that’s supposed to go to them.” He opened his wallet where his last thousand dollars sat nestled. He wanted to give the children most of it but knew Corrina would throw a fit—a justifiable fit if he got right down to it.
He glanced at her shrewd dark eyes as he slid out half the bills. She saw the caution and the fear in his. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he was afraid for her. For the last ten days she had seen the same look; he was afraid that she was becoming a monster.
Surprisingly, she gave him a small smile. “They should have all of it,” she said, jutting her pointy chin at the wallet.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’ll be okay. We’ll get more money.”
Cole nodded solemnly wondering if he had been wrong about the progression of the disease within Corrina. She’s turned a corner, he thought. She might be getting better.
She was getting better—she was getting smarter. In that moment, she realized that money would never be a problem again. After all, Cole was a bounty hunter and she had an endless hunger. She would feed and he would clean up her messes—and in the process they’d get rich. There’d be no more worries about where they’d live or how they’d pay their bills. She would let Cole have his silly pet causes. She would let him have his orphans and his widows and while he was busy with all that she would grow stronger and smarter.
And one day she would have her revenge. She was owed a blood debt—blood for blood—and she was going to collect from those who owed her: the governor, the Fantuccis, Bruce Hamilton, and of course Ashley Tinsley.
Cole didn’t love Ashley. He loved a mirage, one that was always just at the edge of the horizon; one that he would never quite reach, not until Corrina had crushed her under her boot, that is.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Corrina said, enjoying the warmth of her hate. She took the money from Cole and handed it to the girl, imagining how plump she would be in a month’s time, how soft her skin would be, how her veins would surge with life. “I wish I could give more,” she said. “Maybe someday I can give you more. Much, much, more.”
The End
Author's Note:
Thank you so much for reading Into the Rad Lands. I certainly hoped that you enjoyed it. I am simultaneously writing book 3 of the series as well as screenplay for book 1—wish me luck!
There is a way for you to read the next story chapter by chapter, before anyone else! All you have to do is go to my Patreon page (Here) and support my writing. The tier levels are exceedingly generous with freebies running from autographed books, video podcasts, free Audible books, signed T-shirts, and swag of all sorts. At a high enough tier, you will even get to meet me in person as I take you and three friends out to dinner.
Patreon is a great way to help support me so I don’t have to go back into the coal mines…back into the dark.
Another way to help is to write a review of this book on Amazon and/or on your own Facebook page. The review is the most practical and inexpensive form of advertisement an independent author has available to get his work known. I would greatly appreciate it.
PS If you are interested in autographed copies of my books, souvenir posters of the covers, Apocalypse T-shirts and other awesome Swag, please visit my website at https://www.petemeredith1.com
PPS: I need to thank a number of people for their help in bringing you this book. My beta readers Joanna Niederer, Monica Turner, Michelle Miller, Shamus McGuigan, Victoria Haugen, Tim Ricketts, Steffi Foller, Christine Beckmann, Roseann Powell, Kim Phillips, Corrina Marie, Amanda Petermen, Doni Battenburg, Kari Lyn Rakestraw—Thanks so much!
Fictional works by Peter Meredith:
A Perfect America
Infinite Reality: Daggerland Online Novel 1
Infinite Assassins: Daggerland Online Novel 2
Dead Eye Hunt
Generation Z
Generation Z: The Queen of the Dead
Generation Z: The Queen of War
Generation Z: The Queen Unthroned
Generation Z: The Queen Enslaved
Generation Z: The Queen Unchained
The Sacrificial Daughter
The Apocalypse Crusade War of the Undead: Day One
The Apocalypse Crusade War of the Undead: Day Two
The Apocalypse Crusade War of the Undead Day Three
The Apocalypse Crusade War of the Undead Day Four
The Apocalypse Crusade War of the Undead Day Five
The Horror of the Shade: Trilogy of the Void 1
An Illusion of Hell: Trilogy of the Void 2
Hell Blade: Trilogy of the Void 3
The Punished
Sprite
The Blood Lure The Hidden Land Novel 1
The King’s Trap The Hidden Land Novel 2
To Ensnare a Queen The Hidden Land Novel 3
The Apocalypse: The Undead World Novel 1
The Apocalypse Survivors: The Undead World Novel 2
The Apocalypse Outcasts: The Undead World Novel 3
The Apocalypse Fugitives: The Undead World Novel 4
The Apocalypse Renegades: The Undead World Novel 5
The Apocalypse Exile: The Undead World Novel 6
The Apocalypse War: The Undead World Novel 7
The Apocalypse Executioner: The Undead World Novel 8
The Apocalypse Revenge: The Undead World Novel 9
The Apocalypse Sacrifice: The Undead World 10
The Edge of Hell: Gods of the Undead Book One
The Edge of Temptation:
Gods of the Undead Book Two
The Witch: Jillybean in the Undead World
Jillybean’s First Adventure: An Undead World Expansion
Tales from the Butcher’s Block
Dead Eye Hunt (Book 2): Into The Rad Lands Page 38
