by N A Broadley
“Well, girl. We got a problem.”
Sarah’s ice blue eyes lifted to hers.
“We might have some bad men coming our way. We can’t run and leave the man behind. We’re gonna have to stay put until he wakes up. So that leaves us with having to stand guard all night. I’ll take the first watch.”
Sarah nodded in response and then smiled tightly as she stood up. Beth thought she was going into the tent to get some sleep and was surprised as the girl picked up a stick of wood from the fire and using it as a torch, walked off toward the dark woods. Curious, she jumped up, wincing in pain as her body protested the sudden movement. She turned on her headlamp and followed her.
“What are you doing?”
Sarah turned and motioned with her hand, then began to dig a hole with a stick. Confused, she watched as Sarah dug several more circling the campsite, about twenty in all. Shaking her head, she wondered what in the hell the girl was up to. Sarah then began collecting solid sticks from the woods by the firelight from her torch.
Carrying them back to the campfire, she grabbed Beth’s knife from her pack on the ground and began whittling to create sharpened ends on each stick. When she had a pile of several dozen or so, she carried them to the dug holes and stuck them deep into the dirt and covered them over with leaves and brush. Beth laughed as she watched the young girl busily creating a series of ankle breaking, foot puncturing booby traps.
“Where in the hell did you learn to do that?” she teased. Sarah cut her eyes toward Beth and smiled coldly.
“I guess I’ll never know but dang girl! Great job!”
It took them several hours to lay booby traps outside of their camp. Beth, sore, moved slowly. Not only did Sarah create ankle breaking, foot puncturing hellish holes, she also created wooden spears, driven at an angle deep into the ground, which if walked into in the dark would surely pierce and puncture the skin. It was hard and sweaty work, but they both felt a little safer having it done.
Chapter Twelve
“In moments of pain, we seek revenge.” Ami Ayalon
Bobby Belanger watched as the sun sank low on the horizon. Scowling, he threw his cigarette onto the ground and stomped a sneakered foot down on it. Billy, Tim, and Elroy should have been back by now, and he was getting a bit worried. He worried they had run into problems over the border in Connecticut. That was Compound territory. A thorn in his side. Whenever he’d sent his men on a run up that way, they ran into the compound militia. A group of men armed to the teeth and determined to keep him from raiding the towns adjacent to them.
Tamara moved up beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist, and angrily, he pushed her away, knocking her to the ground. He paid little attention to the glare of hatred she shot at him. She mattered little to him. She was just his whore, and as soon as he tired of her, he’d replace her with some fresh meat.
But for now, she was a place to plant himself when the need arose. Other than that, she was an inanimate object, in his opinion. Looking down at her, his mouth twisted into a cold grin.
The guys had been on a mission. They needed more women for barter and they needed the special package that was waiting for him. So he’d sent them to a neighboring town to snatch and grab. He had twenty women now he pimped out. He needed at least ten more as the demand was high. They should have been there and back hours ago. He wondered if they ran into trouble. He knew he should have sent Harris and Kevin along with them. Shit! Well, it was too late now to go looking, but at the crack of dawn, if they weren’t back, he’d gather up the boys and go and find them.
He didn’t give a shit about Tim and Elroy, but Billy was his baby brother. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to that punk. An uneasy, unsettled feeling sank into the pit of his stomach, and his lips curled into a grimace.
Life had been good for him since the Event. He had all the booze and guns he could ever want, drugs, food, and women. He saw the writing on the wall and taken advantage quickly after the breakdown of law.
He’d gathered up his good buddies, and they quickly became the law of the land in his town. It was his idea to start building their enterprise with pimping out the women, and he found plenty of men that were happy to pay any price for the opportunity to fulfill their twisted and often sadistic needs.
His women came in all shapes, sizes, and ages. Some of his clients liked them young and fresh; some liked them a bit older and more experienced. It didn’t matter to him; he met their demands with a variety of supply.
Lighting a cigarette, he drew a deep drag and coughed it out. He glanced down at Tamara. She had a few more go’s in her, and he motioned for her to follow him. Obediently she got up from the ground, and with her head hung low, followed him into the house. In her heart, she knew he would one day very soon kill her. But she vowed she would get him first. This thought brought a smile to her bruised and battered face. Bobby liked to use his fists on her. And he used them often.
Society since the Event became like the wild west and Bobby thrived in this environment. He thought of himself as a modern day, Billy The Kid. People reverted to the savagery of those days. Men and guns, fists and bloodletting. Taking what they wanted or needed from those who couldn’t defend themselves.
Yes, this was his time. Before the event, he’d always walked that fine line between jail and freedom. People who didn’t give him the time of day, who looked at him like he was some slithering, slimy thing that just crawled from beneath a rock, now feared him.
Now they called him boss or sir. And the women who’d pointed their noses high in the air, who cast him looks of disdain and revulsion, now catered to him. His father was the first man he’d killed after the event. That fat and slovenly bastard deserved every bit of pain and punishment Bobby gave him. And he’d given him plenty. What that man did to Billy and him? Welp, let’s say, he got what was coming to him.
And his mama, she was just as bad. She screamed and cried as Bobby took down the old man. Her cries stopped when Billy shot her between the eyes, and they both laughed hysterically as her body slunk to the ground like someone just let the air out of her obese tires. Drunks, both of them. Nothing but nasty and mean drunks. Yup, this was his time now.
He was a man of importance. Gaining notoriety by the day as he networked outward. He walked into his office, a small alcove off of the living room and shuffled maps and other papers from his desk. He pointed to Tamara, and she obediently knelt on the floor next to his chair. He pet her on the top of her head like he would a faithful and obedient dog then laughed as he thought of this. That was it! She was his dog, and every dog deserved a pretty collar. He made a mental note to find one later and strap it around her neck. He’d find a leash too. This way, he could proudly parade her up and down the street for all his men to see.
On the wall behind him was a map of the North East and red tacks placed in strategic places indicated towns and gang affiliations.
While others holed up through the winter in their homes trying to outlast the virus and too afraid to venture out, he was busy building his presence to what it was today.
He started out in a small circle, covering towns that were nearby, within riding distance. Then as his gang grew, they traveled further and further, and like a snowball rolling downhill, he gathered more resources and more fighting force.
He gazed at the map on the wall and smiled as he slid his hand roughly down the front of Tamara’s shirt. He felt her tense beneath his touch, and he slapped her roughly.
“You are my property,” he growled. He grinned in satisfaction as she nodded her head.
Out of Boston, Massachusetts, he networked with the Winter Hill Gang. A gang of its own notoriety having been the home of the famous James Whitey Bulger. With his death, the gang underwent a shift in power but hadn’t lost its prominent position and now ran the entire South End Corridor.
From there he networked out to New York and hit the jackpot as he gained partnership with both the Crips and the Folk Nation. Both s
trong in numbers and resources. Through many tense meetings, give and take from all of the gang leaders they took on the new foundation of merging into one group. The Tristate Alliance. They had become an army.
He thought of the first hectic and sketchy months of the event and how quickly these gangs had all taken control of their areas. This thought brought a grin to his lips. He had the wherewithal to move fast and hard giving orders to take down the small town cops, gathering up the citizens one by one. As they moved from house to house, they took every available resource, food, guns, ammunition, medical supplies, and of course, the women that made up the foundation of his thriving business. The men had a choice, join him, or die. Most chose to join him.
Now through this hard and sometimes bloody work, he was sitting atop his own empire. Goods flowed in and out, trading for things they needed. He felt like a king, and this feeling led him to his next move.
The compound over the border in Connecticut. He wanted it. From recon trips he’d sent his men on, he knew the compound had a boon of resources. He also knew it was heavily defended. Wrinkling his brow, he thought of what he’d learned about the group.
The fighting force was dozens of men strong. Led by a man named Roger. His men ran into this force when raiding towns close to the Compound and the battles between them were bloody. He’d lost several men to those assholes. Since then, he’d been slowly devising a plan of attack. They, the compound, stood in his way. In the way of him taking the whole of the North East in his ever-widening territory.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Harris entered and sat down on a chair opposite him. He shot a curious look at Tamara kneeling on the floor but said nothing.
“The boys are coming in from the south with fuel. It’ll be here in three weeks.”
Bobby nodded. Three weeks and they would have enough fuel to run the vehicles. That would be a game changer for him and his men.
“They have cleared the roads from New York to Boston. The tankers will be running right on time,” Harris said.
The tankers he spoke of made their way across miles and miles of highway that were congested with abandoned vehicles. Time-consuming and difficult, the Crips from New York led the efforts in clearing the highways for easier networking between the major players. Bobby nodded.
“Good. How many women have we got for trade?”
“Right now, nineteen. We lost one last week to Ruben. She didn’t make it,” he sighed wearily. Ruben was a butcher. And twice now he’d unintentionally killed the women Bobby had pimped out to him.
“It’s not enough. They want at least thirty,” Harris replied. Bobby leaned back in the chair and rubbed his temples. Thirty meant another raid. And the death of another one of his whores because of Ruben meant that he was short on filling the demands of his clients. Ruben, he would deal with later, but for now, he needed to strategize what town he would have to hit.
“Okay. Let me think about this. We need to plan another raid soon. Can’t let our boys from the south down now can we?” he chuckled.
Chapter Thirteen
This was the part of the business Bobby hated. And the part that made him the most uneasy. He’d dealt with the formerly known Crips many times and although they were now part of the Alliance he still had very little trust for them. They were a tricky and shady bunch of bastards, especially Thomias, the Alliance region leader. The way the man’s eyes were always watching and shifting and darting gave Bobby the impression that he was looking for any weakness he could use against him.
He had every right to be nervous. Thomias had a reputation for brutality, and Bobby thought the man would drive a knife into his own mothers back if he thought he would gain from it.
But, necessity demanded that he deal with Thomias and his men. They desperately needed the fuel that this group was bringing to them. Fuel meant they could run their vehicles, expand their raids further out, which in turn gained them more resources.
For the short raids, the horses were adequate. With the vehicles, he could hit harder and faster. It was a win-win all the way around. It pissed him off having to depend on others for what he needed though. He was never one to play along well to the group think mentality. But, small towns didn’t carry the large amounts of fuel he needed to keep his small community going, so that made him have to play nice. This stuck in his craw as painfully as a thorn. He was king of his own castle so to speak and yet found, even as king, there were others he was forced to answer to.
Chapter Fourteen
Brian woke angrily. Pain radiated in hot waves from his hip to his knee, and he swung violently at the soft arms that pressed his shoulders down. With a start, he struggled against the darkness. His breath rasped angrily between his clenched teeth, and he let out a volley of profanity.
∞
A volley of profanity from within the tent sent Beth careening to her feet. Stumbling against the pain that assaulted her body; she clenched her teeth. She’d been dozing by the fire, drifting in and out as the night closed in around her. Awake enough to hear the chirping of the night creatures, awake enough to hear a branch snap.
She entered the dark tent with her headlamp switched on to see a nervous Sarah trying to restrain the injured man from getting up.
“Mister, it’s okay. Be still; you’re injured,” she hissed as Sarah looked at her with wide and fearful eyes. The last thing she needed was for him to bust open the stitches she’d just put in a few hours earlier.
“Get this woman off of me!” the man growled in response. She motioned for Sarah to back up a bit. She watched as the man struggled to a sitting position. Jessie stood at the doorway of the tent, growling softly.
“Call that mutt off!” Brian said angrily.
Beth reached out a calming hand to the dog.
“She won’t hurt you. Your shouting scared her is all,” she explained. The man glanced at her in irritation.
“How bad is my leg?” he asked.
“The bullet went clean through. A flesh wound. Don’t be a baby,” she snapped hotly “I cleaned the wound and stitched you up. It’ll hurt like hell for a while, but I think it’ll heal nicely.”
He nodded. Yes, it was hurting like hell already, but he was thankful it wasn’t worse.
“My name is Brian. Did you just call me a baby?” he snickered.
She smiled, then laughed.
“Yes, I did. I’m Beth, this is Sarah, and the dog is Jessie.”
Brian nodded and then shifted his weight a bit to get more comfortable.
“Thank you for stitching me up.”
She nodded. This man had saved her and Sarah’s ass, and he was thanking her? She was the thankful one. If he hadn’t come along, she couldn’t imagine what those men would have done to them both. The thought sent a tingle down her spine. Yes, she could imagine but didn’t even want to go there.
“Are you kidding me? Shit, thank you for saving our hides!” she replied. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Brian nodded. He was both. He watched as Beth moved from the tent and then came back in carrying a bottle of water and a cup of what looked to be a noodle mixture. Uncapping the bottle, he took a long and deep drink. It felt good on his parched throat. Then with three large bites, he ate the noodle mixture. It was cold, but he didn’t care. Food was food for a hungry belly.
She apologized for the small amount of food she’d given him, and he waved her off.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t that hungry,” he lied. He looked at Sarah, who sat in the shadowed corner of the tent watching him. She hadn’t said a word, not even when he was yelling at her and pushing at her as she tried to hold him down — not one syllable, not one grunt.
“Hi Sarah, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked. She shook her head. He cast a glance at Beth.
“She doesn’t talk,” she explained.
The night went from clear and starlit to overcast and rainy. Sitting in the tent, four of them crowded together; Beth shared the few last pieces of beef jerky she
had left. Sarah wolfed hers down in two huge bites while Beth nibbled at her own slowly, savoring every tough and dry bite, washing it down with water. The fire went out, and the woods were buzzing with activity from the night creatures around them.
“So,” Beth muttered between bites, “I think the men that attacked us earlier has a friend or family member named Bobby. And he’s gonna be pissed when he finds his men dead,” she finished. Brian listened quietly and then shook his head. His leg ached.
“I think at first light we need to beat feet out’a here,” he suggested.
He didn’t know if the man Beth killed was blowing smoke or telling the truth and he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Those men were on that trail for a reason, and he suspected hunting was not their primary goal. He’d seen men like them before. Hard and mean with no consideration for anyone but themselves and now that the law was not around to keep them in check? Well, it just made for a very bad situation all the way around.
Beth nodded in agreement. It was true. The faster they could leave, the better off they would be. But there was one problem.
“How are you going to hike over this terrain with an injured leg? You’re injured, Brian! You need a few days to heal before you start putting too much stress on your leg.”
“I will manage it. We can’t stay here,” he argued back.
Although she didn’t know this man at all, the steely glare in his eyes told her that he would indeed push on.
“You’re crazy. No, we stay,” she replied stubbornly and shook her head. Brian turned his gaze up to her and swore in frustration.
“It is a wonder you haven’t been killed yet! Or better yet, you haven’t gotten her killed! “he said as he waved a hand at Sarah. “You skip along like your walking in a Sunday park, not paying attention to anything around you. You act as though you are oblivious to how dangerous this world has become!” he ground out angrily. “We can’t stay! If what the dead man said is true, we are going to be hunted! I am not staying here to be a sitting duck! You stay if you want. I am leaving!”