"Make that seven volunteers," a voice beside me chimes in.
I have to bite my lip to stop from screaming “hell no."
"Robyn?" Coop questions. "You sure? Six is plenty, and if you leave, your group will be leaderless."
"My group is a well-oiled machine, Coop. I've trained them well. You know that."
Modest much? I can't help but think as I frown at her perfect, scar free profile.
Robyn continues, "They can function without me. My skills will be needed more on this mission. Your volunteers maybe good hunters but not a single sharpshooter among them. And if these new mutants are going to be a threat, knives aren't going to do a rats-ass good in keeping the docs alive."
Is she taking a dig at me? I can feel my patience wearing thin even though I know she's right. My guys are no slouches with their weapons, but our best sharpshooter had been Kingsley's man, Wentworth. He'd gone missing on our previous mission, and although a team was sent out to search for him, there had been no sign. With him presumed dead, we need someone with above grade marksmanship.
"Agreed," Coop’s answer is fast. Almost too fast. He didn't have to agree with her so quickly, like the rest of us are chopped liver or some shit. "Thank you for stepping up. Thank you all for doing this. This will not be an easy task. Eight years ago when I showed up here with my little group of survivors, we came from outside the city. It was a horror show out there. I'm sure these past years have only made it worse. During this time, we haven't ventured far from the city's perimeter so we really don't know what to expect. But I do know this. It’s going to get messy out there. So if any of you want to back out, now's the time."
His gaze moves around the room. So does mine. I'm curious if anyone will drop out. I wouldn’t blame them if they did. Cooper’s right. This is not going to be easy. After eight years of fighting for survival and supplies, people can grow real callous and mean when their backs are against the wall. We won't find any sympathy or help out there. Just leeches waiting to rip out our throats, and others wanting to take our provisions and our lives. Not exactly a trip to Disneyland, but no one backs out.
"If I'm going to die at the hands of these creatures, I'd rather do it fighting for a chance to defeat them than have it happen while I'm cowering in a corner."
Mike speaks for us all, I think. Cooper nods in approval.
"Good. I'm going to be honest with you all; there is another motive behind this trip. Something we haven't shared with the civilians, but I’m making you all aware today. Our medical supplies are running dangerously low. Antibiotics, painkillers, hell even bandages are in short supply. The supplies are virtually non-existent, and as most of you are already aware, this city is picked over. Wiped clean. There's nothing left out there to find. The doctors in the research facility have agreed to restock us in exchange for crops. Apparently, they are smart enough to make their own penicillin but can't grow shit in their gardens. They won't make it through the winter without our help of vegetables and preserves. A fair enough deal if you ask me."
"So we will be towing a goddamned wagon? Nothing like slowing us down," Dom doesn't usually say the smartest things, but I had to agree with him on this one. If speed and stealth are our priorities, then towing a wagon full of supplies is a real stupid thing to do.
"It won't slow you down. Not with what we have planned for you."
The little half smile on Cooper's face intrigues me. What is he up to?
"Kingsley, show them the plan," he says and Kingsley exits the room only to return a moment later, lugging a huge mountain bike through the door. He starts cussing loudly as one of the bike’s pedals catches in the door frame, halting his entrance and almost sending him tumbling over the handlebars. I would have laughed if I wasn't so stunned. A bike? That's the fucking plan? What are we, a gang of eighth graders?
I tear my eyes away from Kingsley's hilarious struggle with the stupid bike and glance at Cooper, expecting to hear him shout, “Gotcha!” But no, he's watching Kingsley as pleased as punch, like he invented the damn contraption himself.
"Um, that's a bike, dude." My dry voice breaks the lull covering the room.
"That it is," Cooper says back, grinning my way. "We've been sitting on these for a while now. Pretty much useless here in the city. But out on the open highway, they should come in handy. Cut your time down immensely. We've modified them to make them more comfortable and durable and able to easily tow the wagons. Hope you all know how to ride."
I do. Well, at least I did, but that was eight years ago. Hope it's true what they say; you never forget how to ride a bike. I glance at Luke to gauge his reaction, and his sheer size hits me with sudden hilarity. For some reason, my mind conjures up an image of his massive frame hunched over the puny bike handles like some circus clown on a tricycle and I start laughing.
He doesn't even look at me. He's still sizing up the bike with a pained expression, but his words are meant for me. "You're picturing me on that stupid thing, aren't you?"
"Yup. Ain't gonna lie," I answer, grinning like a fool.
He sighs as he crosses his arms across his chest and rocks back on his heels, scowling at the inanimate object of his displeasure. "We should look real intimidating riding through town on those."
"Well, one good thing. If there are people or ravagers watching us, they just may die from laughter at our bicycle bad-assery. Least then we won't have to fight them."
He laughs slightly in response, but Queen Bitch rolls her dark eyes my way.
"Don't know what you two are complaining about. The bikes are a fantastic idea. You guys are lucky to have them—and me going along on this mission."
"Question? Is it hard keeping your swollen head upright?" My words are caustic but low. I don’t want spectators to my anger, but everyone appears to be still focusing on Kingsley and the bike. Robyn’s shoulders stiffen, readying for battle at my remark but Luke intervenes once again.
"What did you want to ask us earlier, Robyn?"
She sends a pouty smile Luke's way, choosing to ignore me. "It can wait. We'll have plenty of time to discuss this now since we will be on the road together....partners."
She sashays away to join her own crew, her hips swaying with a confidence I can only dream of. I stare after her, wanting to say something blistering, but nothing comes to mind.
"Fuck," I hiss through gritted teeth. Should be a time and a half on the road with her. I wonder if there's some way to change Cooper’s mind on that decision.
"Okay people, we have a lot to discuss." Cooper’s voice interrupts my sudden vivid daydream of watching Robyn fall off of an overpass and get taken down by a horde of leeches, and I pull myself with reluctance back to the present.
"Now that we've ascertained the mode of transportation, we need to focus on the best route." He nods at Alex who flips over the dusty whiteboard standing in the corner of the room. It has what appears to be an old road map attached. It's ripped and faded in spots but still readable. Where had they managed to dig that relic up from?
"Like Luke said earlier, Ottawa is over 300 miles from here with two possible routes, Highway 401 and Highway Seven." Cooper struggles out of his chair and limps to the whiteboard, pointing to the highlighted red line with his cane.
"Highway Seven is your safest bet. It's a bit of a longer route but less populated than the 401 and a much less traveled road, so hopefully there was less congestion on the day of the invasion. Not much on Highway Seven other than a few backwater towns and plenty of farmland. Should be a safer passage. Follow the highway, and you should make it in one piece."
"Famous last words," Luke mutters, and even though his words are meant for me alone, his voice carries over the sudden lull in the room. He's not happy with this new mission. I don't respond back. I don't want him to know how excited I am by this outing. Even the bicycles don't seem that bad, although I'm sure Luke would argue with that.
“That's the plan,” Cooper finishes briskly, ignoring Luke's muttered comment as he
sweeps the room. “Any questions?”
“I have a question,” Cookie's clipped accent pipes up as she stares down Doc Wicker. “Why are you taking these men at face value? We have been monitoring the radio for years; we've never talked to any 'scientists' in some obscure research center. How come they know about this and we do not? It sounds fishy to me.”
Everything sounded fishy to Cookie, but I have to agree with her on this one. Why haven't we heard of this group before? We've talked to a lot of survivors over the years, and other than St. Joseph’s, none of us ever trusted each other enough to disclose our locations. We haven't survived this many years to be that stupid. Just because you can appear normal over the airways doesn’t mean you aren't some psychopath trying to fetter out the other’s weaknesses.
To my surprise, Doc Howarth is the one to answer.
“I personally know the doctor Roger told you about. She and I used to work together years ago. Truth be told, that's the only reason they probably made themselves known to us. They've kept a low profile. They didn't want to make their presence known.” He glances at Coop as if asking permission to continue, and Cooper nods in agreement. “This isn't just a normal research facility. This was military owned. These people have access to equipment we can only dream of. Trust me when I tell you bringing them on-board as our allies will be beneficial to us all.”
“So there are honest-to-goodness trained military soldiers still there?” Beth, one of the council members, asks and I can see her glimmer of hope at the news of a re-surging military power to help fight these invaders. But Doc Howarth crushes her hope with a sad shake of his head.
“No, there may be a few base soldiers left, but nothing near an army. They were attacked just as heavily as we were on that day. Nothing left there other than a few surviving doctors and old soldiers trying to make it through, the same as us. That's why we need to join forces. Together we can find our salvation. I know we can.”
Cooper nods, agreeing with the white haired doc. “Don't go rearing any hopes of the Army saving our asses. They no longer exist. If these past years have taught us anything, it's every man for themselves. Although making a few allies along the way can't hurt. Now, Luke, Kingsley, Alex, you three stay and help me iron out the details. The rest of you are free to go.”
I'm not in the least irritated by the fact that I'm not asked to stay and help plan the mission. Last night’s festivities with Luke, plus the abrupt morning awakening is taking a toll and I’m bone-tired. A nice nap in my little bed sounds more appealing right now. Let the council deal with the planning shit.
"Later," I throw Luke's way as I head for the door. But I don't quite make it. An angry, young ginger steps in front of me, blocking my escape.
"You fucking kidding me, Bix?" Gordon growls at me.
I refrain from the exasperated sigh on my lips as I see my chance for a nap disappearing. "Look, kid—"
He cuts me off by shaking his index finger in my face and fixing me with a killer glare. I back up a couple of steps with my hands raised.
“Whoa! Chill, dude.”
"Don't 'dude' me,” he snaps. “I hope you guys sterilized that knife before you stuck it in my back." Before I can retaliate he huffs off, leaving a trail of hurt in his wake.
CHAPTER THREE
I knew where I would find the little dickhead. As rare as it is for the kid to lose his shit, this isn't the first time. And I knew where he would go to cool down. We all had our own nooks and corners in the Grand that we had claimed over the years. We had to have a place to escape to for our very sanity. Gordon's spot was a square little block in the middle of the metal tubing roof vents on top of the Grand; sandwiched in between the hot-tub gardens. I'd found him there more than once during his turbulent teen years before we agreed to train him as a hunter, and it's where I find him right now. Only he's not alone.
Evie, the girl we had rescued on our last mission, and who in turn had saved us from the horde of leeches, is with him. Her dark head is close to his red one as they whisper urgently back and forth. Seeing them together doesn't surprise me. They've been thick as thieves since we’d returned to the Grand. A friendship formed from familiarity and age. What does surprise me however, is their intent conversation. I try to sneak up on them so I can overhear. I'm not above eavesdropping. You can find out a lot of interesting things that way. But Evie's dog, Scruff, is also squeezed into the tight spot with them, and he tattles on my approach with a slight bark of welcome. They look up, guilt written on their faces like I'd caught them red handed. Question is what did I catch them at?
"You following me, Bix?" Gordo asks, anger flushing his cheeks.
I nod my head, not even bothering to lie. "Yup." I slide across the tube and swing my legs over, jumping into the confined space with them. Scruff greets me by pressing his wet nose into my outstretched hand, but the boy and girl don't seem to be near as happy to see me. "What are you two planning? And don't bother to tell me nothing because I've never seen two guiltier faces."
Gordon sticks his chin out at me in defiance and crosses his arms. "We're not planning anything. I'm too angry to plan anything. I can't believe you guys didn't stick up for me down there. I've trained and worked hard to become one of you, and now the team that I've had nothing but respect for just crammed me up the ass. I thought for sure you at least would have my back, Bix."
Oh boy. He's really pissed and not holding back on the barbs, either. And really, can I blame him? Every single word he just said is true.
"Sorry, kid, but you gotta realize this is no ordinary mission. Hell, we have no idea what we're going to find out there. It's way too dangerous for you. It's way too dangerous for us, but not like we got a choice. You do. You don't need to stick your neck out for this. Like Coop said, you'll be much more useful here helping to protect the wall."
I thought my line of argument sounded pretty convincing, but Gordon sniffs in disdain.
"Please, don't add insult to injury by trying to tell me how dangerous it is out there. I've faced plenty danger with the group, and I've always held my own. Denying me the right to go is bullshit, and you know it."
"Take that up with your big brother. He was the one who said no. It's not up to me."
"And another line of bullshit. He would have caved if you guys insisted. But nope...you all left me hanging like some unwanted trout."
I grin at his analogy, but his scowl grows bigger at my amusement. Covering my budding smile with my hand and faking a cough, I try again.
"I'm really sorry, Gordo. I didn't realize you'd be this upset. We didn't mean to offend you. We really are just trying to look out for you. But bottom line, you're not going this time. May as well get that out of your head. You and Evie will be much more useful here."
The black haired girl looks up at me with a baleful glare. "Leave me out of this. I think you guys gave poor Gordie the shaft after all he's done with you. Shame on you."
I do a double take at her accusation. The girl's barely said boo since she’s been here. Where the hell did that snark come from? And damn good snark too. Wonder where she picked that up?
"Anyway," I say, shaking my head and looking away from Evie. "Decision is made and nothing you can do about it. You may as well stop sulking like a child. So, tell me you're over it, and you'll do whatever Cooper asks you to do to help out around here while we're gone."
Gordon stares at me, arms crossed, and I think he's going to argue with me again. But then the anger abates somewhat in his eyes, and he shrugs in defeat.
"Okay. You win, but on one condition. You guys do what I've been bugging you to do ever since we got back from our mission. Then and only then, will I let this go."
"Oh for Pete's sake...." I roll my eyes. "This again? Seriously? I'm going to tell you again...it's a stupid fucking idea. Why you want us to do such an asinine thing, Gordo? You want the ravagers to laugh themselves to death if they ever capture us and see it?"
"And that's a bad thing, how?" he persists. “
Besides, you guys owe me after that stunt you all pulled earlier; stabbing me in the back. You keep saying I'm one of you? Well, this will prove it.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I have no valid argument. He's right.
"Well played," I admit with a frown, and he grants me a lopsided grin at my admission. Sighing, I run a hand over my shaved head. "Okay. Bring it back up to the guys. Not saying they'll agree, mind you. But if you do it tonight at our poker game, and after they've had a few nips of Jonesy's brew, they may be a bit more agreeable."
"Yes!" He pumps his fist in the air in victory. "It's going to be so cool, you just wait and see. You guys will love it."
* * *
The pain is excruciating! The needle poking into my barely-healed scar tissue and jack-hammering off of my shoulder blade feels like someone is rubbing my skin off with sandpaper. I bite my lip to hold in my cries as the instrument of torture digs in again, and I so badly want to kick Jonesy right in the balls for putting me through this. But I don't. I can't blame him. This is Gordon's fault.
"You can do this, Bix," Luke says, wincing as I nearly crush his hand in mine.
"There's a lot of blood. I didn't think there would be blood involved. I don't know if I can do this," Gordon croaks on the other side of me, and I glare at him sideways in irritation.
"Oh, no. This was your freakin' idea. You're not backing out...ow! Jonesy, you fucking twat-waffle. You giving me a tat or skinning me alive?"
Jonesy's only response is to snort loudly in my ear. A cloud of fetid smoke from the cigarette stuck between his lips encompasses me in a haze. I cough and jerk to the side, causing the needle to dig painfully into my shoulder once more.
"Jesus," I groan as sweat beads my forehead. I don't remember my last tat being this painful.
"Told you it was too soon to ink over this scar," Jonesy says, oblivious to my pain as he keeps digging into my back. "But you're a stubborn twit."
"I can't do it," Gordon groans again.
I send him my most baleful glare. "Don't even think about backing out now. This was your great idea. You were the one nagging us to ink a group name so you could be 'one of us.'"
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 3
