The guard removes his hand from his face. His glove is slathered in blood. He ejects a wad of spit and blood mixed together that splatters on the garage floor. “I can guarantee that after the council hears about this, they will not be pleased, and you will be brought in, one way or another.”
I stoop down in front of the guard. “The council needs to remember my importance, and that they do not own me or my blood. I give it freely. If they, and everyone else, including you, wants to survive what’s coming, you are going to need my help. I am your ally, not your prisoner.”
The guard nurses his injured nose with a delicate touch of his fingers. His glassy eyes cut up to me. They narrow as he pulls his hand away.
More blood trickles down from both of his flared nostrils. He doesn’t bother wiping the blood away anymore. He just stares at me with contempt. “To be honest, I really don’t care. I don’t trust you in the least, regardless of whatever special project you’re doing with them. You’re a vamp as far as I’m concerned. Doesn’t matter if you have the fangs or pale skin, their venom still flows through your veins. You’re still one of them. Wouldn’t hurt me one bit if someone took your head. One less demon we’d have to worry about.”
I stand back up and move over to Lucian. I offer one last glance at the battered guard.
“Don’t worry about him. Why don’t you get out of here—leave the city while you can? I’ll make sure they stay put until you’re clear of the city walls,” Lucian says.
“Are you sure?” The last thing I want is to have him and Trevor caught up in any sort of mess. That doesn’t set well with me. “I imagine they’ll not be too happy that you’re helping me get out of here.”
“She’s right,” the guard barks from the flat of his back. “If you help her out any more than you already have, you’ll be just as guilty and will be treated as an enemy of the city.”
“Pipe down over there,” Trevor speaks, which sort of shocks us both. Killer growls and bares his teeth in the direction of the guard. He shifts his gaze over to me. “I got your bike ready. I haven’t fully tweaked it yet, but it runs, and should get you to where you’re going.”
The other guards around us stir and wallow about on the concrete. The guard that beseeched me to stand down earlier peers at me with a sad gaze. He shakes his head no, insisting that I do not run.
Lucian grabs one of the rifles and shoulders the weapon. “I got this. Now go.”
Trevor motions toward the double doors to our far left with his head. “This way. I’ve got it out back here right next to the building.” He leads the way with Killer by his side.
I stutter in place for a brief second before I give pursuit.
“Amanda,” Lucian calls out. I pause, and glance back over my shoulder. “Be safe out there, and try not to get yourself killed, will ya?”
NINE
All I can do is acknowledge Lucian’s request. I don’t plan on dying out there.
Granted, here as of late, it would appear that I’m seeking out trouble in the worst way, when all I want is to try and save as many people as I can from the vampires.
It doesn’t really seem to matter if I avoid certain situations or not, trouble is always on the hunt for me. I’m cursed no matter what I do.
“Come on. This way,” Trevor beseeches me.
He’s over by the opened doors. His arm shifts to and fro in a manic fashion, motioning for me to hurry up.
Lucian walks forward with the rifle pressed firmly to his shoulder. He tells the guards to get up and move over toward their commander. I don’t give a final look back as I slip out of the building and into the expansive junkyard.
The morning sun creeps up over the horizon, erasing the grim darkness that has consumed the wastelands. Beams of light slice through the taller buildings around us, and hit my face. I hope this is a good sign of things to come.
Black Fields is known for having a permanent sort of gloom that hovers above the city. Seeing the sun’s gleam within the fortified walls is a nice change considering what has recently transpired.
I stand there for a moment, and take in the mounds of scraped metal and gutted vehicles that lay scattered over the grounds. A sectioned off portion to my right has an array of various vehicles parked along a tall, chain link fence that encompasses the outer perimeter.
Trevor is off to my right, messing with the motorcycle he had been working on. He grabs the handlebars and pulls the large bike toward him. He wheels it over and hands it off to me.
“I know she isn’t much to look at, but she runs.” He pats his hand on top of the midnight black gas tank. Rust spots dot the black frame, the reddish orange color sticking out like a sore thumb. I’m not overly concerned with the physical appearance. I just need the damn thing to run.
“As long as it runs well and doesn’t break down on me, then I’ll be happy,” I say. “The visual appeal is the least of my concerns.”
Trevor drops to one knee. “Oh, let me check something real quick.” He digs his hand inside the engine and messes with some of the parts.
I glance back toward the open doorway as strained voices, thick with angst, and heated confrontation loom from the garage. Leaving as I am doesn’t sit well with me. I hate the fact that the council has put me and others in such a tight spot that it has forced me to battle those who are on my side.
“All right. Should be good. Just wanted to make sure everything was holding up. Go ahead and fire her up,” Trevor says.
He stands up, takes a step back, and wipes his greasy fingers off on the front of his faded jeans.
I toss my leg over, and sit down on the seat. The rigid edges of the cracked and weathered leather stab my backside. It takes me a moment to familiarize myself with the bike’s gauges, but I manage to do so without much of an issue.
“You sure you’re going to be all right on this thing?” He doesn’t sound like he thinks I can handle the bulky beast. “You’ve got some major power between your legs.”
I set the choke and ensure the cut-off switch is on. I twist the key to the on position. The small dash illuminates through the outer plastic. I grip the clutch and hit the start button.
The engine grumbles at first, sounding rough and choppy. It pushes through the grogginess and comes to life. I ease off the clutch and open the throttle. The rigorous vibrations that rattle the bike melt away.
A pair of goggles dangle from the right handlebar. I retrieve them and slip the worn rubber over my head. The lenses are scuffed and scarred, but I can still see out of them. Since being injected with the vampire’s venom, my senses have heightened much more than before.
Trevor leans in close and raises his voice to trump the bike’s engine.
“There’s a gate at the far side of the yard that you can get through. The code is 26547.”
I nod in return and mouth the words “Thank you.”
He offers a half smile.
Around the bend of the opened double doors, I spot two additional guards emerging from the building. They point at me with their weapons trained in my direction.
Fuck. I hope Lucian’s all right.
They make for me. I take off away from the garage.
I twist the throttle and open the engine up. The thick treaded tires slice into the earth with minimal effort. The bike tears down through the junk yard. I glance back over my shoulder and find the guards racing after me on foot. The gap widens between us as I lay on the throttle.
Mounds of scrapped steel and parked vehicles fly by as I race across the expansive junkyard. Something pings off the frame of the bike. Guess they’re shooting at me now. Not sure if they’re aiming for me or the bike. They still need me alive.
The bike swerves from side to side as I shift my weight to avoid the incoming rounds. Fortunately, they aren’t just spraying the area and hoping something will land. That sort of indicates their intentions. They may want me wounded, but not dead. Yet.
I lean to the right, and stretch my leg out toward the grou
nd. The sole of my boot skims over the loose dirt and chunks of rock as I dip in behind a pile of tires stacked ten feet high.
The gunfire ebbs, but I don’t let up. The guards here are tenacious. That’s one of the qualities that I do admire about them.
I lean to the left and straighten out my trajectory. There it is. The gate that leaves the yard. I spot no movement on the other side through the thick set of plastic that is draped over the bulky chain link fence. Reinforcements could be inbound, but it doesn’t appear that they have arrived yet. I tilt my head to the right and look over my shoulder. The guards are nowhere to be seen. They may not be within sight, but I’m doubtful that they’ve just given up.
My fingers squeeze over the brake as I let off the gas. I pull up next to a keypad that is fixed to a gunmetal gray stand just to the right of the gate. I punch in the code and mash the enter button.
The gate stutters. Both sections retract on the sets of wheels that wobble along the ground. I offer one last look at the building where I had to leave Lucian and even Trevor at the mercy of those guards.
The faint crackle of gunfire catches my attention over the idling of the bike’s engine. I feel a tug on my upper right shoulder. It doesn’t hurt much. Probably just a graze. I ignore the minor sting and tear ass out of the junk yard. I blow through the opening gates and make for the alleyway. Off to the left, I spot more guards inbound on foot, and a bulky rig barreling down the street in my direction.
The tire tread grabs the concrete and keeps me from losing control. I open up the throttle and race down the narrow space that has me surrounded by tall buildings.
The darkness still looms large within the narrow cracks and spaces among the buildings. Up ahead, light splashes over the dull gray concrete of the street. I see no people out and about. I imagine they are probably still reluctant to brave the outdoors until the day has fully taken hold.
I swerve to the left, then shift back to the right to miss a tipped over trashcan that rests in the middle of the alley. The steady growl of the bike’s throaty engine seems to be running smooth.
I slow the bike down just enough to hug the left corner. I emerge out onto the deserted city streets, alone. There are no people on the sidewalks. No guards that I can spot heading toward me.
I hunch over on the bike. My chest is but a scant inch away from the fuel tank. I cut my gaze over my left shoulder, and spot another big rig bearing down on me. It’s not the same one that was trailing me through the alley, but another vehicle that has joined the pursuit.
Although large and bulky, the rig has a powerful engine that keeps me from getting too far ahead. No doubt Trevor had a hand in beefing up the Frankenstein machines for the city.
The steel beast blows past the alley just as the other rig comes into view. It takes the corner without slowing down. All four tires struggle to keep the rig from going too wide and crashing into one of the buildings across the street.
No sharp reports of gunfire tickle my ears, just the steady humming of the engines as I make my way to the main entrance of the city.
There’s a roadblock up ahead—a set of rigs blocking the street.
Fuck.
I adjust my heading, and veer to the left. I bring the bike up on the sidewalk and maintain my haphazard speed. I fly by the nooks of apartment buildings and the fronts of stands people use to sell their wares.
Out in front of the rigs are a row of guards that have their rifles trained in my direction. I speed up and stay close to the buildings with the hopes that they’ll refrain from opening fire from fear of striking someone within the structure.
They fire controlled bursts at the bike. I swerve and dodge as best I can. I feel another tug on my bicep that causes me to wince. Not a direct hit, but another graze that has caught more of the meat this time. I need to find a different route to the main entrance. They’re not going to give up.
Up ahead, I spot a narrow passage between the buildings. It’ll be harder for the large rigs to keep up with me through the maze of buildings.
My fingers clamp over the brake. The bike’s rear wheel locks up. I tilt the front wheel to the left, and lean back some as the bike slides to the opening of the alleyway.
More incoming rounds blast the brick façade of the buildings I’m close to. Chunks tear free and taint the air as I lay on the gas once more. I maneuver through the tight corridors, taking care to not collide with the rigid surfaces of the buildings. I don’t hear the rigs’ beefy engines behind me. Perhaps they’ve given up pursuit, for now.
Taking twists and turns that snake along the winding alleyways between the structures, I find myself all alone. No way could one of those rigs make it through here without getting stuck. As much as I’d like to think that they’ve given up, I can only think that I’m going to be running into some sort of trouble soon.
The top of the expansive concrete wall that protects Black Fields from the wastelands comes into view. I’m close now.
I shift through the gears, and drive towards the entrance.
Shit. A dead end.
I hang a right, and fly down the narrow alley toward the street. I try to look past the edges of the buildings I’m racing toward to see if any of the city’s security forces are waiting for me. Regardless of how much I crane my neck, I can’t see past the blind spot.
I maintain my heading, and reduce my speed enough to hug the corner of the building. There’s no guards or rigs that I can spot—just the openness of the road. I follow the winding street to the entrance that is sparse of any vehicles or people for that matter. Any that are out now, steer clear and stay close to the buildings and stands that populate the sidewalks.
Almost there.
That’s what I keep telling myself. I’m not far away from the wastelands. Never thought I’d be relieved heading back out into the demons’ hunting grounds, but given what has happened here, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I round the bend in the street and spot the main entrance to the city. There it is, along with a handful of guards and a rig blocking my way out.
Shit.
I can’t turn around and head back into the city. They’ll for sure pin me, and I don’t want to hurt any more of these people. They don’t seem like they’re wanting to listen to me in any sort of way.
Wait. There might be another way out of here. There’s a much smaller passthrough that nomads from the wastelands use to gain access to the city on foot. A simple doorway that wouldn’t accommodate a vehicle, but would be large enough for a motorcycle. It’s risky, but it’s all I’ve got.
I bear down on the gas, and act as though I’m going to maintain my heading. The guards have their weapons shouldered and trained in my direction. I don’t recall the last time I played chicken like this. Still, I’m confident in my skillset.
They open fire, one at a time. I swerve from left to right, trying to dodge the incoming gunfire. I ease off the gas and work the brake. I swing wide to the left and skim past the outside of a building. I twist the handlebars to the right and head for the narrow passage.
Bullets ping off the motorcycle’s frame. Just inside the tunnel that passes through the wall to the outside world is a Black Fields’ guard. He takes aim. I charge full steam ahead. I lean to the left and slam into him. The impact knocks him hard into the tunnel wall.
I make short work of the corridor, and emerge out on the other side of the wall.
I offer one last look at the scaling wall as I head for the unknown. I lean forward, and stay close to the bike’s frame as I open up the throttle and blast across the wasteland.
TEN
I’ve fallen into autopilot. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes to hours. Before I realize it, morning has all but vanished.
The long, desolate stretch of road I’m traveling over has my mind grinding on things to come. The humming of the tires playing off the sand-covered asphalt melds with the whining of the motorcycle’s engine. The bike is being pushed to the max, running at its top
speed.
Devils Fork is at least a full day’s journey on foot. Perhaps more. I’m unsure, since I’ve never been there. I know where it’s at, but I try to avoid heading into areas with dense vampire populations. That is, unless I have a good enough reason to do so. Given what transpired back at Black Fields with the mysterious demon, and his words of me being the key to ending all of this, I need to investigate what that meant.
I can still hear Lucian’s words of caution inside my head, telling me that it could be a trap. Like always, I’ll keep my guard up and be ready for whatever is thrown at me.
Christ. It’s hot today.
Hotter than usual. Then again, it feels this torrid most times.
Large beads of sweat race from under my thick hair and down my face. The gauges are difficult to read with any accuracy from the sand collecting in them. I’ve thumbed the particles out, but they fill back up just the same.
The main thing I’m concerned about is the bike’s fuel cells. Like most of the vehicles that are around now, they operate on solar energy. Depending on the makeup of the vehicle, and the amount of power it needs to move, it can determine the configuration of the panels.
Given that this is a motorcycle, and doesn’t weigh as much as a bulky raider rig or Black Fields transport, it may hold up until I reach Devils Fork before it needs recharging, but I’m not sure I want to take that risk.
Trevor never told me what the status was of the cells. Then again, he didn’t have much time to do so. Just a super quick “here you go” before I had to split and run.
The battery needs to be checked out to see where it’s at. I’d rather stop someplace that has shelter if I need to, allow it to charge than to be stranded in the barren wastelands with no sort of place to rest from the heat.
Crimson Thirst (The Huntress Bane Book 2) Page 7
