by N A Broadley
“Well, I guess I can’t sit in this glorious sunshine all day. Got work to do and so do you, old man,” she teased. She pushed herself up from the table, grabbed both their cups and carried them with her to wash.
Roger watched her walk away and sighed deeply. He let the worries that nagged at him flit across his mind. He solved problems best when alone. When he could mull them over quietly; once done, he would then bring it to the group for discussion. There were seven of them in the group that made decisions for the whole compound. Together, Roger, Mary Anne and Julie, Doc, Rusty, Thomas, and Calvin, all gave equal say in matters concerning the welfare of the community.
He’d heard a lot of chatter on the HAM radio from all over the country about the virus. What they thought had run its course and died out, was now reported to be cropping up again in New York, Wisconsin, Florida, Washington State, and California. Joe Nagler out of Wisconsin said he implemented a quarantine of his compound, no more refugees in and no one leaving. The virus was running rampant, all around his area, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
Shaking his head, he groaned. How could this be? Several of his contacts reported hearing of heavy spraying of what was supposed to be a new antiviral, grown in a medical lab somewhere down south. Spraying by whom? The group doing it didn’t identify themselves as any part of the fractured United States government. And stranger yet, in every area they purportedly sprayed, new cases of the virus cropped up.
The second area of worry for him were the reports of a large group of unfriendlies, moving out of New York and Boston, heading straight for the North East. The large group of two hundred plus were clearing the significant highways for several tanker trucks that were slowly making their way from town to town. His contact also told him that many in the group were wearing gang signs on their jackets. Everything about this set off warning flags for Roger. He’d heard of the gangs in New York and Boston, and what he’d heard had him scared shitless.
Lastly, and the most immediate of concerns, were his grandson Spike and the newcomer Brian, who’d taken off after Bobby and his gang to rescue the girl, Sarah. Should he have sent some of his men with them? Eventually, Bobby and his group would need to be dealt with. The safety of his community depended on it.
Chapter Six
Bobby shook with fury. He exploded with dark rage and slammed his fist into the wall, punching a hole in the plaster. Pain slammed up his arm. His knuckles busted open and blood flowed down over his fingers. Five of his men had died because of those two bitches! Five! Glaring, he stepped toward fifteen-year-old Amy with his hands curled into fists. She cried out and attempted to cover her face as he threw punches into her in a fit of temper.
“What is with you women? When will you all learn your place?” Each word uttered he drove home with a punishing fist—until she lay on the floor, sobbing. Jacob stood by silently wincing and watching each blow land on the defenseless girl. He shifted his eyes and stared at a speck on the wall rather than witness it.
Spent and breathing hard, Bobby turned to him and sneered.
“Go tell everyone; we meet here in an hour! Now!” He knew exactly where those bitches were going, and he intended to take care of that problem for once and for all. Jacob nodded and turned quickly on his heels. Anything to get the hell away from Bobby.
How could this have happened? Two women besting five of his men… what was wrong with this picture? He knew he should have just taken his pleasure with the mute girl then killed her. A soft mewling whimper brought his eyes back to Amy. Sunlight poured through the window and surrounded her in a soft glow. Dust particles floated and danced in the yellowed rays. He looked at her with disgust.
“Get up, go wash your ugly face!” A smile of satisfaction touched his mouth. He watched her scurry away. He hated her. He loathed everything about her. But he needed to train her for his brothel. And she was a good student. That much he’d give her. Not as good as Tamara. He regretted how that turned out. He’d lost his temper, and well…?
Pushing it out of his mind, he focused on more important things. The Alliance and their fuel trucks would be here in less than two weeks, and he still needed to find ten women to add to the eighteen he had for trade. His mind spun with the possibilities, and he smiled coldly. He knew where he would get the additional women, and if his plan worked out the way he thought it would, he would be getting so much more than just women. Throwing a light jacket over his shoulders, he slammed out through the front door and into the sunshine. He had a man to see.
He walked along Main Street, whistling a light tune and turned left onto Mary Rowe Drive. Dust kicked up under his boots. He spied Ray riding toward him, leading a man and woman, both bound with rope. Stopping, he waited.
“What’s this?” he snapped. Ray brought his horse to a halt a few feet away from him.
“I caught these two sneaking out of town.”
Bobby glanced at the man, Tom? Tim? He couldn’t remember his name. Then he glanced at the young girl, and he swore softly.
“April? What the hell, woman! You know better than trying to escape!” he purred. With a grin he reached out and stroked a dirty hand across her cheek. He chuckled when he saw her flinch. He watched her eyes widen in fear. Looking up at Ray, he nodded.
“You know what to do.” Ray nodded in reply and laughed. Yes, he knew what to do. There would be a show in town tonight.
Bobby stepped around the two and continued on his way. What was going on here today? His men…trying to escape? The women he could understand. But his men?
“You’re losing it, Bobby. Losing control and the men know it.” His mother’s voice whispered deep in his mind.
“No! You shut up!” he muttered.
“You’re a loser boy, a bastard loser. You couldn’t even take care of your brother, now look, he’s dead because of you!” His father’s voice shouted.
Bobby screamed and covered his ears with his hands, spinning in circles. A frantic terror filled his heart.
“You’re dead! Stay dead!” he yelled to the empty air.
Was it true? Was he losing it? Perhaps he’d pushed the crazy too far; now his men were sneaking out to get away from him. Grinding his teeth so that they hurt, he shook his head. No! No way! His men respected him! They feared him! He was king in this little town!
Sweat dappled his forehead and ran into his eyes. The sun suddenly felt too hot and shone too bright. Sucking in a deep breath, he gagged on the stink of horse manure that littered the street. He walked cautiously, avoiding the big piles left behind by the horses. He made a mental note to have Ray gather up some of the women and make them clean up the nasty shit.
Stopping in front of a large, white Victorian house he knocked on the door. A slender woman of about fifty opened it and smiled widely. She held her arms out for a hug before she’d move to let him in, and Bobby welcomed it.
“Cathy,” Bobby murmured. He gave her a quick peck on her sunken cheek. The aroma of fresh baked bread met his nose and teased his senses.
“Bobby? It is so nice to see you again.”
“Is Henry around?”
“Yup, working in the cellar. Come in my brother. “
Bobby stepped into the cold, shadowed hallway. Henry and Cathy, the only two people on this earth that he feared and respected. He let Cathy usher him into the living room where he sat down on a blue paisley sofa.
“I’ll go get Henry.”
She hurried away and he let his eyes roam around the room. Statues of baby Jesus and Mary crowded every available tabletop. Bibles littered the coffee stand. Not a particle of dust shone on any of the surfaces. On the wall hung crosses of the crucifixion and in the corner, near the fireplace, a table sat as an altar. The room reeked of radical religion.
A shuffle of feet drew his attention to the far side of the room, where a young woman of about seventeen stood shackled to a bar on the wall. He smiled; his eyes taking in her terrified eyes, the curve of her hips and the fullness of her lips. Such a shame t
hat this girl’s talents were wasted with these two. No, Henry nor Cathy would have none of that. She was their slave, pure and simple. She did the cooking, cleaning, heavy lifting, so Cathy didn’t have to. He sighed and winked at the girl, teasing her and chuckled as she cast her eyes downward.
“So? What brings you to my humble home?” Henry asked with a booming voice then smiled as he wrapped Bobby into a tight hug. The man was a beast—six-foot-plus, with arms that could easily crush a man.
“The project? How’s it coming along?”
Laughing, Henry winked and motioned for him to follow.
“Come see for yourself, my son.”
The pipe bombs, about twenty of them, lay in a neat row on the wooden workbench. Bobby grinned nodding his head. Henry was a genius!
“Are they ready? Hot?”
Henry nodded and grinned.
“God willing, they are, my son.”
“Good, I think I’ll be needing them very soon.”
Henry wrinkled his brow and gave Bobby a questioning look.
“I’ve got some trouble. Two women escaped this morning, and then I found out another one of my men had tried escaping,” he muttered as he kicked the toe of his boot into the dirt cellar floor. “The compound, I need to hit it soon.”
Henry shook his head. “You stay the course, Bobby. It is God’s plan. The sinners will fall. You and I both know that.”
Cathy, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, moved over to Bobby and placed a firm hand on his shoulder while she made the sign of the cross with her other hand. She bowed her head.
“Amen. Henry is right. The Lord has sent his wrath upon these sinners, cleansing the world through plague,” she murmured. Bobby nodded. The woman, in his opinion, was bat shit crazy, worse than her husband by far.
Henry nodded and looked deeply into Bobby’s eyes.
“Stay strong, soldier. The Lord will guide you. Look at all you’ve done since the plague hit. You’ve gathered up the sinners, the whores and the weak. Your work is cleansing this town, building a new God-fearing society. Yes, there will be a few who turn against you, but you are strong and in the great hands of our glorious Savior. You are traveling the Godly way. Those whores, they’re nothing, nothing anymore.
Before the plague they were harlots, gluttons, parading themselves around with no consequences! Going against the way of our God! Now, look at them, slaves! It is God’s punishment. Men and women of no morals shall perish.” Henry ranted, his voice rising to a fevered pitch.
Bobby smiled. He didn’t believe in this God stuff. Never had and never would, but these two didn’t have to know that. They thought they were doing God’s work in helping him and he wouldn’t tell them any differently?
“Amen,” he replied, then grinned. Yes, religion… ahhhh, what a beautiful thing.
They made their way back upstairs. Cathy veered off to the kitchen to make them some tea. Bobby looked at Henry and coughed lightly.
“I have two prisoners that we’ll need to deal with tonight. Will you do the honor of speaking?”
Henry’s eyes lit with insane delight and he rubbed his hands together in excitement.
“Of course, I surely will, my son.”
Bobby smiled. He needed to feed those closest to him, no matter how perverse their appetites.
Chapter Seven
Darkness crept in around them as they made their way through the woods. A weak glow from a half-moon cast shadows among the trees. Jessie’s sleek body silently moved in and out, among the shadows. The air felt saturated from the earlier rain, and smelled of freshly turned earth. Spike led them through narrow deer trails and over rough terrain. Brian looked ahead and could barely make out the silhouettes of Spike and Rose a few yards ahead. His bones felt like shattered glass as the horse jolted and stumbled over a rock on the trail. He instinctively tightened his arms around Sarah to keep her from falling, feeling her warmth against his chilled body. She rode in front of him, leaning heavily against his chest. Night riding wasn’t the ideal situation, but nothing about today had worked out the way he’d planned.
Whistling softly, he caught Spike’s attention and motioned for him to stop. They needed a few minutes to let the horses rest and to be out of the saddles to stretch the kinks out. He grimaced and climbed down from the horse then helped Sarah down. She stumbled with fatigue as he set her on her feet. Her wound, bandaged, still bled heavily. Swearing under his breath, he dug in the saddlebags for the medical kit. Jessie moved up beside him and sat. He gave her a light pat on the head.
Sarah needed to be stitched up, but he didn’t have the proper equipment to do this. So, he would re-bandage and hope it would slow the bleeding enough to get her back to the compound where the doctor could take care of it.
Spike sat on a boulder on the side of the trail with Rose leaning tiredly against him. He curled an arm around her shoulder, giving her some of his warmth. Brian cast her a pitying glance. He knew it must be agonizing for her, knowing she’d left her little sister behind.
“We’re making good time. We should be at the compound by first light.”
His heart slammed guiltily in his chest. He thought of the child left behind. He wished he could save her. But he couldn’t. Not without exposing Sarah and Rose to more danger. And with just the four of them, it would be an impossible mission. They needed the help of Roger and his men.
Brian nodded and muttered. He doubted things would go off that smoothly, but he could always hope.
“Good. Hopefully, Bobby and his men won’t start hunting for us until daylight. We’ll have time to drop these girls off, gather up reinforcements and set up the ambush.”
The more he thought of Rose’s younger sister, the more rage pulsed in his gut. Bobby was a psychopath. A man that needed killing. If it weren’t for Sarah and Rose, he would have turned his horse around and gone back to that town. His hands itched with the desire to hunt Bobby down and make him pay for the misery he caused to so many. Every time he looked at Sarah’s battered face, he burned with fury. What kind of man could be so twisted and perverse? He was an animal who took pleasure in hurting others.
The night folded in around them. Brian breathed deeply, inhaling the chilly air, tasting the scent of pine. Sarah leaned heavily against him, her breathing soft and even, sleeping peacefully. He tightened his arms around her, ignoring the ache in his shoulders. Night sounds, the creatures stirring behind the wall of darkness, lulled him into a soft place where memories floated.
The virus. It had raced through the prison like a roaring wildfire. At first the guards quarantined the sick, but then the sick outnumbered the areas they could put them. Having run out of sickbeds, they left them in their cells to die on their own dirty, stained mattresses. Wingman, his cellmate, died early on. Wingman had been a young man, barely twenty-one, goofy and obnoxious, but Brian liked him. And he always looked out for the boy. His heart gave a sad tug as he remembered his sandy hair, green eyes, and goofy smile.
He thought about his parents; the last time he’d talked to his mother. How she’d wept openly when visiting hours were over and how her face collapsed in agony when his father, roughly grabbed her arm as she leaned in for one more hug. And how this had brought him to the brink of rage, leaving him feeling helpless. Anguish ripped through him. They hadn’t understood why he did what he did. They hadn’t realized the burning hunger that clawed at him, driving him to right the wrongs that happened to Talia. Those men, the ones who took her, they destroyed the little girl through their savagery and cruelty. The chill of the night air matched the coldness in his heart.
His father had accused him of becoming the man he so hated. Just a killer, on the same level as Bobby. The blood that stained his soul screamed yes. The deaths of the men, from his hands, screamed yes. Did it matter, the reason for killing? If the law couldn’t or wouldn’t serve up the justice, then he would. And he didn’t regret one moment of the misery he’d inflicted upon his enemies.
He remembered his fat
her’s eyes condemning him. Even while his mother wept, his father stood, stone-cold and distant. They didn’t understand. And he would never regret his actions. Talia deserved his vengeance upon those that hurt her. Pushing this thought away, he pulled a tin of chew from his pocket and stuffed a pinch between his cheek and gum. Acrid saliva filled his mouth and turning his head; he spat onto the ground. The nicotine gave him a temporary fusion of energy and the long night demanded all the strength he could get. Darkness floated around him and he gazed into the trees. Weak moonlight penetrated the heavy leafy cover of the forest.
Spike pulled his horse to a halt and climbed out of the saddle. Rose climbed down and stood beside him tiredly. Motioning to Brian, he grinned.
“I gotta pee, man.” he sauntered off into the darkness on stiff legs. Brian took time to stretch his legs. Sarah walked up beside him, yawned and stretched.
“I’m so sore and tired.”
Brian smiled. They were all sore and tired. His back felt as though someone had beat him with a sledgehammer, his joints popping as he twisted and stretched. He pulled the canteen from the saddlebag and took a long drink. Wiping the rim, he handed it to Sarah.
“Not much further. You need to hydrate. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Sarah tilted the canteen to her mouth and drank deeply. She saw Rose do the same with Spikes canteen of water.
“I can’t wait to see Beth. I’ve missed her so much.”
Brian smiled.
“She’s gonna be one happy lady to see you too.”
“Are you sure she’s gonna be okay? The doctor fixed her?”
“Yes. Beth is strong. She’s gonna heal up from the hip surgery just fine,” he assured her.
They’d talked on and off through the night; about Beth, about what had happened, about why he’d waited a few days before he set out to rescue her. They talked about Bobby’s plans to take the compound and his ties with the Tri-State Alliance. They talked about the shipment of gasoline that the Alliance would be bringing into Massachusetts and how, having been their captive, Sarah had overheard many conversations surrounding Bobby and his plans. All things Roger would need to know. What they didn’t talk about was what she’d gone through with Bobby or Gregory. Whenever he tried to broach the subject with her, she shut down.
